“If I got help, she would keep you safe and give you back to me when I was well again.”

“And if you didn’t?”

“She would have you taken away. She would report me to Child Protective Services, petition to get custody, and I would never see you again.”

The eggs and peppers and french fries lurch in my abdomen, but I hold them down. This is what you wanted, I tell myself. This is truth. It is ugly and twisted and full of corners and angles where people and things get stuck and lost. This is not my Moony, not cinnamon-roll, gameshow Moony. This woman who makes threats against her own. But Moony is proving to be someone I didn’t know. I comfort myself with the belief that she did it to protect me, to help my mom, that she was desperate to save us both. Sometimes, the ends really do justify the means. Don’t they?

“So, you left me for me, is that what you’re saying? Does that mean I’m supposed to be okay with it now?”

“I’m saying I didn’t see another way at the time, Cat.”

“And did you get better?”

“I did,” she says quietly. “For a time.”

“I don’t understand.”

“I was clear and focused and working even. I quit drinking and smoking. And I came for you.”

“Bullshit.”

She purses her lips. “I know this is hard for you to hear.”

“You don’t know anything about me. Don’t pretend like you do.” I don’t know why I’m suddenly so angry at her. I don’t want to hear more, but there’s no stopping now. It is spilling from her like fire ants from a disturbed mound.

“I came for you, Cat. I promise. I tried. But she lied. She wouldn’t give you up. She told me you were better off with her, happier there, even though I was your mother.”

“Why? Why would she say that? You’re lying.”

“I’m not. Not about this. I know you have no reason to trust me, but I’m telling you the truth. I wanted you, Catia. You are everything I’ve ever wanted. I’ve spent my whole life wanting you. And I will never forgive myself for letting her take you from me.”