Free Finding Willow (Hers) by Dawn Robertson Page B

fucking comical. I place the canvases down before straining to lift the basket onto the counter next to them.
    That’s when I notice her, before she sees me. The woman working behind the counter is Seven's mother. Actually working, for once in her life; it is absolutely unreal. I pray she won't notice me, but I am pretty fucking sure it is too late.
    “Starburst? Is that you?” She nervously pushes her long gray and white braid over her shoulder and starts to make her way around the counter with her arms extended. I don't want her to hug me, but I know she’s going to. It will be uncomfortable, like any affection Seven or I received from our parents over the years has been. Our mothers don't have a maternal bone in their bodies, even if they try.
    “Yes, Mama Joni. It's me.” I just want to pay for my fucking paint and leave. I feel like a broken child all over again. I fucking hate it. I hate the way any of our parents make me feel. Every time I look at any of them, I can hear the moans coming from the bedroom they all shared. I can hear the heavy breathing, the panting, the bodies slapping against each other. It's fucking gross.
    “It's been so long, baby girl, so long! What brings you back to Woodstock?”
    I want to tell her I’m searching for the baby she and her BFFs stole from me, but I don't want them to know I am looking. All I need is them getting in the way. She seems just as anxious as I am about my reappearance in town, though.
    When I became pregnant with Willow, it was a community effort to take her away. Not only did my mother easily convince my father that I could never take care of a baby, but Joni also put the final nail in the motherhood coffin with the threats of Blue being around more. I didn't believe her, but then again, I was young and impressionable. The thought of him puts me on edge because of his craptastic behavior toward me the moment I ended up pregnant. His years of abuse I could almost tolerate because in some sick, fucked up way I loved him. I loved the attention he showed me. The connection I craved with another human being. I said no, I realize this. Then I hurt for a long time. I should have reported it and sent him to jail. Instead, I feel for him. Just showing how much of a lost cause I always was. Needless to say, I hate them both. Deeply.
    “Just taking a little break from the city. Wanted a little quiet time to myself.” Okay, so it’s only a half lie. I do want quiet time. I do want a break from the city. So I am only omitting certain facts.
    “Painting, huh? You were always such an artistic little girl.” I want to ask her what the fuck she would know of me as a little girl. She and my parents were always too fucking busy doing drugs or fucking each other to know what I may have been good at. My own parents never fucking noticed, I am pretty damn sure this bitch didn't, either.
    “Yeah, helps clear my head.” Can this fucking awkward conversation just end so I can get the fuck out of here? Next time I will drive a half hour to the big box craft store just to avoid running into her. I’m sure she will run right back to my parents and tell them I am somewhere within the city limits. It is going to be a big family reunion that I don't want to deal with. The only person from my family I had planned on spending any time with was Journey, my baby sister.
    Coming to Woodstock, I had no idea my parents had migrated back to this area. They never stayed anywhere long but, according to Journey, this time they had been here quite a while.
    “Have you seen Seven lately? Blue?”
    That’s it. I want to punch this bitch in the cunt. I'm done. I am just fucking done. Rage pumps through my veins as I think about all the times they left me with their piece of shit son. How they knew, as a teenager, he knocked me up and walked away. What the fuck does she expect me to say? Yeah, we did brunch last week . Dumb bitch.
    “Oh, your son who raped me all those years ago? No, can't say