When I was six, she left with the man she loved, taking my twin brother with her. She shoved my hands away from her legs, sending me crashing to the ground, ignoring my desperate cries for her to stay.

She walked away without looking back, her resolve unyielding.

Now, at twenty, she was back with my brother. She said my brother was sick, and I was the only one who could save him. But what she didn’t know was that I was sick too, and I might not have much time left.

——

Mom returned with my brother.

She tiptoed to touch my head, her voice dripping with sweetness. “Oh, look at you, Gavin! You’ve grown so tall and look so strong!”

Strong?

The neighbor used to say I was too skinny and always urged me to eat more. At 6 feet tall and weighing only 117 pounds, I’d lost a lot of weight.

Her sudden touch threw me off balance.

I instinctively turned my head, and her hand brushed against my face.

I lowered my gaze awkwardly, catching a glimpse of her hand rubbing against the seam of her pants.

She knew I saw, but acted as if nothing happened. “Mom’s back. Are you happy? From now on, we’ll be a family together forever. Sound good, son?”

To me, this was the greatest temptation. Ever since that day at three years old when she left, I had wished for this moment over and over again.

I didn’t respond, but then she hit me with another emotional punch. “Gavin, your birthday is coming up in a few days. I came back just to cook you your favorite birthday meal!”

In that instant, my heart sparkled with hope. I had to admit, I longed for her love, even just a little.

She remembered my birthday. It felt too good to be true, and I needed to be sure. “We’ll really be together forever? You won’t leave me again?”

“Of course, we’ll always be together.”

With her reassurance, a smile broke across my face.

“But your brother is sick. You’re the older brother; you need to help him so we can stay together forever.”

I’d known for a week that Blake had leukemia. Four months ago, I was diagnosed with it too. Last week, while picking up my medication, I overheard the doctor talking about them. I later confirmed with the doctor that Blake’s situation was manageable and not severe.

“Gavin, are you quiet because you don’t want to help your brother?”

I opened my mouth, eager to explain. “I’m not, I–”

But I was sick too. If I weren’t, I’d be willing to donate my bone marrow to Blake if only Mom would love me a little more and not leave me again.

But those words never left my lips.

Mom lost her patience and flipped the switch in an instant.

Her tone hardened, devoid of any warmth. “Gavin, are you making excuses again? I thought you’d changed, but you’re just as selfish as your dad.

“I risked my life to bring you into this world. Shouldn’t you give something back? Your brother is sick; you can donate your bone marrow to him.

“Helping him means you’re just giving up a bit of bone marrow, but if you don’t, Blake loses his life!”

I let out a self-deprecating laugh.

The doctor said Blake’s condition was mild and treatable with medication.

The one who really needed a bone marrow transplant was me.

Mom married my dad to get back at the man she loved, Tim Goodwin.

After five years together, Tim cheated on her and refused to return.

When she learned Tim was about to become a father, her fury boiled over.

It was then that my dad, who had waited for her all those years, pursued her once more, and in a fit of anger, she married him.

Not long after the wedding, she got pregnant.

Tim found her again, begging for forgiveness, pouring out sweet words and promises, trying to rekindle their past.

Her already shaky heart was torn apart.

She cried and demanded a divorce, wanting an abortion.

But my dad couldn’t bear the thought of losing his two babies.

He promised her that after the child was born, he’d transfer his assets to her and let her go free.

The doctor told her it was twins, and at this stage, an abortion was risky.

Plus, her chances of getting pregnant again would be slim.

If she went through with the abortion, she’d lose the chance to be a mom forever.

In the end, Mom weighed her options and gave birth to me and Blake.

Dad kept his promise and transferred his wealth, but he didn’t let her leave; he even used Tim to threaten her.

Dad just wanted her to stay a little longer, to care for us more.

But she felt he was selfish, deceiving her, and holding her back this way.

Mom hated him – and me.

She loved Blake but didn’t love me.

Because I looked like Dad, while my brother resembled her.

She said I was a constant reminder of her shame, with my features resembling my father’s, making her feel sick just looking at me.

In the end, she spent six years with Dad.

After he died in a car accident, she couldn’t wait to leave with Blake, abandoning our home and me.

To welcome Mom back home, I made a big feast.

I knew what she liked to eat.

I wanted her to enjoy it, to see a satisfied smile on her face, and maybe even get her to smile at me.

In my memories, Mom always looked cold toward me.

She walked into the kitchen with Blake, her face soft and smiling – only for him.

I told myself that after she tasted my cooking, she would smile at me too.

After Mom left, I lived with my grandma until she passed away a few years ago, leaving me to live alone.

When I was six, other kids said I was a jinx for not having parents.

But I knew I had a mom.

After she left, I would cry and throw tantrums, begging to find her.

Grandma told me Mom ran off with someone.

I wouldn’t listen; I kept demanding to see Mom.

Grandma tried to explain, giving me all sorts of reasons, but none worked on my stubbornness.

Finally, she changed her story.

She said Dad had died, and with no income, Mom left to save money for me, so I wouldn’t go hungry.

I believed her.

How could a mother not love her child?

All the other moms around loved their kids.

So I was convinced my mom loved me too.

She must have had her reasons for leaving, and I was sure she would come back.

From that day on, I finally stopped crying and throwing fits.

I stared at the big bag of potatoes in the corner, tears streaming down my face like a string of broken pearls.

I decided I’d eat half a portion less each day, so when Mom came back, she wouldn’t have to worry about running out of food for me.

And I did just that.

Now, Mom was finally back.