Chapter 6

“I, Maliyah, am not your mother,” I declared. “You, Jamie, are no longer my son. As you once said, your surname is Ojn, and mine is Shen. From now on, we have no relationship.”

After stating my intentions, I rose and stood by the door, ordering Jamie to leave. “Don’t return. We don’t welcome strangers.”

Jamie’s fingers trembled; his fists clenched. He remained motionless. Seeing this, I returned to the living room, grabbed his collar with one hand, his luggage with the other, and dragged him outside. “Mom! Wait, my leg… my leg hurts!” Ignoring his cries, I pushed him through the gate.

As I tossed his luggage after him, Brock emerged from behind the large banyan tree, his face serious. His voice trembled slightly. “Maliyah, Jamie has had nightmares every day. He misses you. He needs you. Can’t he stay a few days?”

“No,” I replied without hesitation. Jamie, noticing Haylee peeking from the kitchen, asked in a hoarse voice, “Why can she, an outsider, stay, but not I? I was your son…”

I looked down at him with boredom. “What makes you think you’re comparable to my precious Haylee? Haylee can stay as long as she likes.” I addressed him slowly, enunciating each word, “I no longer want you. Since you chose your father, you are no longer my child, Maliyah.”

Jamie stared, dumbfounded. Tears, which he’d considered shameful since age seven, welled in his eyes. After a long silence, Brock, having helped Jamie to his feet, muttered, “Maliyah, why are you so heartless?”

The mansion gate slammed shut in response.

That night, a fierce storm raged. Brock’s car remained parked on the muddy path beside the banyan tree. Grandma, flashlight in hand and under an oiled-paper umbrella, attempted to deliver a blanket to Jamie, but I intercepted her and gently escorted her back to her room.

The next morning, the usually calm Brock anxiously knocked, urging me to check on Jamie. He had a high fever, vomiting and dizzy. Grandma, severely hard of hearing, didn’t hear the knocking. Haylee slept soundly, her ears protected by earplugs, as were mine. I ignored the knocking and slept on.

Waking at noon, I found Brock's car gone. Smiling contentedly, I hummed a tune and lingered with Haylee in Grandma’s melon shed. Taking Haylee to school, she carried fruit she’d picked, happily sharing with her dorm-mates. The girls, rarely venturing outside the city, chattered excitedly. “Is this a blueberry? It’s so big, much sweeter than store-bought ones!” “That’s right. Maliyah used to be an agricultural science doctoral student. This Oldsilver blueberry only grows at her great-grandmother’s house.”