Mother, Leave me alone

When I was twelve years old, my mom walked out on my family. I was the one who found the note. It was short, and said that while she loved me, my dad, and my brother, she wasn't happy and needed to be somewhere else. She promised she'd call as soon as she was settled and had a phone. As most walk-outs followed by short notes go, we never saw her again.

For the most part, my family and I moved on. I won't lie and say that it was easy, or that everything went smoothly. But everything turned out alright in the end. Dad remarried when I was in high school, and they seem happy together. I can't say that my stepmother and I are especially close, or that I think of her as a mother, but she’s not much of a bother to deal with. We get along well enough, and I'm happy that my father is happy.

Over the years we tried a few times to track my mother down, but she must have changed her identity or moved to some other country, because we never succeeded. I came to believe that I would never hear from her again, which... well, wasn’t the easiest pill to swallow. A couple of breakdowns and a quiet bout of sob shower later, I accepted it and vowed to move forward.

Fast forward to 2006. On my twentieth-first birthday, I found a gift-wrapped package waiting outside the door to my dorm room. It was an iPod Nano, which I'd been planning on buying once I'd saved some more money. There was a note taped to the box, which I've saved--

"Dear Ethan,

Happy birthday to my wonderful son! I love you so much and am very proud of you.

-Mom"

It had been ten years, but there was no chance in hell I’d forget my mother’s writing. Either she'd written it, or someone who knew her handwriting well had. I called my father, then my brother, but neither of them knew anything. This was the first time in ten years she'd contacted any of us. For weeks I walked around my campus, expecting to see her at any moment, but I never did.

While the whole thing was strange, there was one detail that stood out in particular. I hadn't told anyone but my brother that I was thinking of getting an iPod, and he swore up and down that he hadn't been in touch with her. If anything, he was upset when his birthday came later that month and she didn't reach out to him at all. I kind of wondered if they were in touch, but I believed him wholeheartedly when he said they weren't.

The experience was unnerving. I kept wondering why she'd contacted me. Why hadn't she given me any way to contact her in return? Why had it been me, and not my brother or father? And the fact that she'd said that she was proud of me-- how could she say she was proud of me if she hadn't seen me since I was twelve?

Another four years went by. In late 2010, I met the woman I'd eventually marry. That Christmas, I introduced her to my family. One week later, I got this email, with an empty subject line:

"Hi Ethan,

It was great to see you at Christmas. Clara is a sweetheart! I'm so happy for the two of you. Give me a call, and maybe the three of us can go out for lunch sometime next week.

Love you!

-Mom"

She didn't include a phone number. I sent many emails back to the address it came from, but never received a response. More importantly, my mother had most certainly not been with us at Christmas dinner-- it had just been me, my girlfriend, my dad, my stepmother, and my brother. None of them were in contact with her, and they all seemed just as surprised and confused as I was by the message.

To be honest, I suspected my brother was involved in all this. He was the only common factor in both instances. I just didn't know why. Why would he be in contact with Mother, lie about it, and act as though he was upset that she had contacted me and not him? And why would my mom act as though she was in regular contact with me when she wasn't?

After that, my mother started contacting me more and more frequently. She'd send emails every week or so, saying how good it had been to see me. She'd ask about my girlfriend. When I got married, she sent a long letter about how beautiful the wedding had been, and how happy she was for me and my wife. I continued to suspect my brother was involved in this somehow, and though I never outright accused him, I think he knew. Things between us became strained. We talked less and less, though the emails from my mother continued frequently (though I noticed that her email address, while always similar, frequently changed). I was beginning to suspect this was a cruel prank by someone who wanted to break my relationship with my brother.

Then came the call.

In April 2013 I bought a new cell phone. My phone number was very new as well, and I hadn't shared it with anyone else yet, not even with my wife. I was the only person who knew what it was. I was driving back from the store with the new phone, and ignored it when it rang-- I didn't want to get a ticket. Besides, I reasoned, it was probably a wrong number-- after all I'd only just bought the phone.

When I got home, I saw that whoever it was had left a voicemail. I had almost deleted it but then curiosity got the better of me.

Instead of a stranger’s voice on the other end… well, it definitely sounded like my mother. I hadn't heard her voice in seventeen years. I barely even comprehended what she said at first-- I had to replay the message before I could focus on anything other than the fact that I was hearing my mother's voice.

I've saved the message, and transcribed what she said:

"Hey, kiddo, it's Mom. Just thought I'd say hi. Hope things are good. I was wondering if you'd like to go, uh, get lunch or something-- you, me, and Clara (if you really want), or something. Maybe that Japanese place we went to -- last week… yes, I think it was last week. The one with the spicy tuna rolls. Anyway, give me a call. And tell Clara I said hi….*static noises* Love you, okay, bye."

When I called the number the voicemail had come from, I got a recorded message telling me that it had been disconnected.

I didn't understand. My wife and I had been to the Japanese restaurant my mother mentioned on the voicemail, but she sure as hell hadn't been there with us. My wife had never been contacted by my mother. No one Clara or I talked to had any communication with her whatsoever. I hadn't given her my phone number-- no one knew my phone number yet. Not even my brother, who I now believed (and continue to believe) had nothing to do with our mother.

The emails have continued. She hasn't called since then, but every so often she texts me-- little things, like wishing me luck at my new job, or how much she likes my new car. Everywhere I go, I look for her -- expecting her to appear out in front of me, hug me, caress my hair, say all the things that she always says over text to me... but she's never there.

I've hired private investigators. And this is the thing-- the emails and the phone numbers are from different locations. Different cities, different states, all across the country. She's constantly moving, and yet she knows details from my life as though she lives next door. When my daughter was born, there was a wrapped package with baby clothes on our doorstep, no postmark, with a card from her gushing about how happy she was to be a grandmother.

On my birthday this year I received the following email:

"Subject: Happy birthday!

I can't believe you're already 29. It seems like you were a baby just yesterday. It's been so wonderful to see you go from a young boy to the man you are today. I count myself truly lucky to have you as my son.

Talk to you soon, kiddo.

-Mom"

I don't understand this. I really don't. How did she get my phone number? How does she know details from my life that she couldn't know if she's constantly moving around the country? Is she contacting people I know, and are they lying to me? And more importantly, why? Why is she pretending she never left? Why is she acting as though we constantly get together and have a happy, great time? Why only me, and not my brother? And why won't she respond to any of my emails, or let me contact her back?

I'm kind of scared.

It's really weird. When I was a kid and she wrote that note saying she'd call, I waited every day for weeks, for months, for years, wanting to hear from her. Now I'm filled with dread every time she messages me. Part of me wants her to explain what's going on, and the other part just wants her to go away forever.

What does she want from me? Mother, mother, why won’t you leave me alone?

This is what I think as I tight up my tie to go meet my mother.

I hope she comes. I hope she hugs me, caresses my hair and tells me all the things she says on text.