Motherless Brooklyn Novels & Stories

He helped Mary into the car like she'd break. Then got in—didn't even look back. I limped inside. Only then did Mary glance at me. Something sharp flashed in her eyes. "Stella, I'm sorry. It's my fault. But Jack said if you're gonna be a mom, you can't be so sensitive. You need to toughen up. How else are you gonna take care of the baby?" Something inside me went cold. My baby's gone.

"No, I don't…" When she lifted her head again and met his eyes, he let out a piercing scream. How could he not, when what he saw was the face of his mother? The same mother who'd been dead for over a decade.

But it was like they’d vanished off the face of the earth. No trace. No leads. “Maybe they left the country,” Lorenzo said, his voice full of despair. “Maybe they’re in Europe, or South America…” “No.” I stared out at the Chicago skyline. “They’re still here. I can feel it.” But a feeling wasn’t a lead. Our money was running out. The estate was sold. We moved into a small apartment. Lorenzo sold his last Rolex. I pawned the ring my father left me. The great Moretti brothers. Living worse than the people we used to rule.

Brad recoiled and withdrew his hand before leaving with the others in resentment. I stood there in silence, clutching Mom's funeral portrait, fighting to keep the tears from spilling. I had endured hardships my whole life. I had slept on construction sites and gotten my skin burned under the sun; I had delivered food until dawn and survived accidents. Through all of it, I had never once broken down, clinging to the belief that men should never cry. But Mom's death had me breaking down countless times.

] Mom gave a bitter smile and nodded toward the judge. Soon, dense transaction records filled the big screen. At a glance, almost all of them were from nightclubs, bars, and male escorts… Under the consumer's name, it clearly said Matilda. The crowd instantly exploded. [Damn, no wonder Matilda is so skinny. But it’s not from hunger, she’s been living a dirty life!] [This is hilarious. She spent all her money drinking and fooling around. Of course, she has nothing left to eat.] [I knew it. A philanthropist who treats outsiders so well. How could she possibly abuse her own daughter?]

Every step was a promise: I’m still here. Outside, the city felt louder than usual, as if it too had caught the scent of anticipation. Screens glowed through windows, each one a silent beacon of demand. Someone shouted about tickets on the corner, voice ragged with hope. A group of teenagers laughed too loudly, performing joy for each other like it was the only way to feel real. The sidewalk pulsed with old gum and the sharp tang of fried food drifting from a cart down the block. Exhaust, neon, and the press of bodies against dusk—Brooklyn’s own brand of chaos. Celeste walked past it all, phone silent now, notifications muted by design. Her scarf itched at her neck; she welcomed the sensatio

Mom dragged me into the kitchen and yelled, "Clean all of this up! Don't even think about coming out until it's done!" The door slammed shut and locked behind me. I collapsed to the floor. My cheek burned with pain, and my entire body quivered as if it could not hold me up. To get through it, I began picking up the broken pieces mechanically. A small white pill bottle rolled out from a corner. It was Mom's sleeping pills. She always said she needed them to sleep. After a good night's rest, she wouldn't have to think about anything. The thought hit me clearly. It was frighteningly tempting.

I couldn't ask any more questions, but just pacing in the room with her in my arms, coaxing her and falling into deep thought. The dream of a werewolf child could be seen as a foresee of something to some extent. So her "two moms", did that mean Brooklyn will be her mom too? I didn't know how to describe this feeling. It tasted sour and sweet, both anticipation and sadness. To be honest, I had nothing against Brooklyn. She was a kind and tolerant woman, but that didn't mean she could condone the hurt of others. This could be seen from her behaviour towards her mate's family. When she made up her mind, she was strong enough and persevering enough to face the storm.

Brooklyn's voice broke as she spoke. I hated seeing people's heartbreak, and I felt sorry for her; I actually did after everything she had done. I glanced at Zuhra, surprised that she was able to cause this level of pain. She always seemed too caring to do that. But I guess Brooklyn had pushed her to her limit. "I have much more than she can ever get. I'm rich as hell, talented, got an actual shot at becoming a star, and what does she have? A dumb job at some eatery and a baby whose father doesn't even care about it," Brooklyn continued