Chapter 14
Ethan dialed the number on speakerphone so Maya could hear every word. The phone rang three times before a breathless, trembling voice answered on the other end.
"Ethan?" Eleanor’s voice crackled through the small speaker, desperate and fragile, as if she hadn't dared to leave the phone's vicinity since he walked out the door. "Ethan, are you there? Are you okay?"
Ethan took a deep, steadying breath, looking across the studio table at Maya, who nodded encouragingly. "I'm here, Mom. I'm in Portland."
A ragged sob echoed through the line, followed by the sound of shuffling fabric as Eleanor likely clutched her beige cardigan around her shoulders. "Did you find her? Is she... is she safe?"
"I'm right here, Eleanor," Maya said, leaning in closer to the phone, her voice clear, calm, and resolute.
The line went utterly dead silent on the other end. For several seconds, the only sound was Eleanor’s shallow, ragged breathing from three thousand miles away. The shock of hearing her daughter's voice after three decades of silence seemed to physically paralyze her. When Eleanor finally spoke, all the defense mechanisms, all the polite suburban facades, and all the political excuses had completely vanished, leaving only a broken, repentant mother.
"Maya," Eleanor whispered, the name catching in her throat like a physical obstruction. "Oh, God... Maya. I am so sorry. I am so, so sorry."
"I know you are," Maya replied, her voice remaining remarkably steady, carrying a quiet strength that seemed to anchor the entire conversation. "Ethan told me everything. It was a long time ago, and we can't rewrite those thirty years. But we can decide what happens next."
"Can I... can I ever see you?" Eleanor asked, her voice breaking entirely into tears. "Just once. To look at you. To tell you face-to-face how sorry I am for everything I took away from you."
May you like
Maya looked across the table at Ethan, who gave her a subtle, supportive nod. The anger that had driven him across the country had finally dissipated, replaced by a profound sense of closure and rebuilding.
"We'll come back home next month," Maya said into the phone, her tone warm and definitive. "Both of us. We'll sit down at that living room table, and we'll talk about everything. But we're going to do it together."
