My mother never loved me that much was evident. How else could she have left me?
Drugs and money were more important than playing housekeeper and wife to Bancroft. However, that wasn't much of a consolation prize.
Who knows maybe his mother was a lying radical cheat and murdered not some perfect vision I had clung onto all these years. Cold-blooded murderer, premeditated. Unruliest ice woman to rule the earth had sentenced him to the orphanage to suffer for his life and beg forgiveness forever being born. While she slept with man after man to prove herself that, she was more than a whore. A mistress was so much better.
No his mother never did a lot of things. Raising a son for one. He wondered why the bitter divorce had strangled the woman to the point of disaster?
We'll he knew it now, plain and simple. She was just as low as he was. Tied with the curse of not knowing which person to trust, which way to turn. No family get together, no going to Aunt Bertha's for Christmas. Alone. Forever.
He sighed and raised a cool glass to his cheek. The sting he had know too many times, burned as the glass touched. It's not that his mother never taught him life was hard, it's just he never learned.