"Hello, is this Felix Mason's mother?"
"Today is the first parent-teacher conference for our first graders. Will you be able to attend?"
I froze. A parent-teacher conference?
Felix hadn't said a word about it.
Still, he was the child I'd raised with my own hands. So I went.
But when I arrived at the school and introduced myself, the homeroom teacher stared at me, confused.
"You're saying you're Felix's mother? Then who's that inside?"
I looked toward the classroom on instinct.
Audrey was sitting right next to Felix.
A few of the children overheard our conversation. They looked me up and down, taking in my clothes, and wrinkled their noses.
"Felix, didn't you say the pretty lady next to you was your mom? So who's this ugly old woman?"
"Which one's the real one? We don't play with liars!"
Felix looked at Audrey—her styled hair, her perfect makeup, the designer dress she wore.
Then he looked at me. My jeans, washed so many times they'd faded to near-white. My plain T-shirt.
His face turned bright red. He stomped over to me and shoved me hard.
"Who told you to come?!"
"You're just the nanny! You think you're good enough to show up at my parent-teacher conference? My mom is right there! Get out!"
"Or I'll make my dad fire you!"
Audrey watched from her seat, a smug smile curling at the corners of her lips, as if she'd expected this all along.
I lowered my head and looked at Felix in silence.
When he was two, he'd been so fragile. He cried in the middle of the night constantly, sometimes burning with fever. The doctor said it was probably because he'd lost his mother—he had no sense of security.
It broke my heart. I held him through the night, every night, rocking him to sleep.
When he got sick, I stayed up without rest, watching over him, making one nutritious meal after another, trying anything to get him to eat.
Felix had grown up in my arms. There was even a time when he clung to me, refusing to let go.
But this child I'd loved as my own, together with his father, had treated me like a fool.
Five years. I never once heard him call me Mom. Audrey got that title without lifting a finger.
And last night wasn't the first time she'd stayed over at my house.
Otherwise, Felix wouldn't have been so desperate to push me away.
Maybe the bond of blood really did triumph over the bond of raising a child.
It felt like there was a hole in my chest, cold wind howling straight through it.
I spoke softly.