I'm Sorry, I love you

Chapter 6

I watch mum's face light up as she tells of a man she is talking to her. I pretend I am happy and surprised. I know the man she speaks of is the postman but in mum's mental state he is more than that. To her, he is a friend who visits daily bringing with him gifts and letters just for her. I dare not correct her. Dare not upset her. And so, I do not listen. We've gone to her favourite place to eat in London, Cafe Godiva. It gives mum the perfect excuse to shop and eat at one time. With Christmas right around the corner there is no stopping her. I've barely eaten my food. Mum on the other hand has completely cleaned her plate, going as far as mopping the gravy up with bread.

"Waste not, want not" she grins, dabbing her mouth with a paper napkin.

Paying the bill, we head to the shops below us. A perfume shop catches my eye. I feel like my usual one hasn't covered the smell of Michael well enough. I point in the shop's direction, forgetting briefly that my wrists are red raw from the struggle. That is until I see mum's face drop as she grabs my arm and pulls my sleeve back.

"What on earth is that?"

I pull out of her grasp and cover my wound. What do I say to that? I hesitate, trying to come up with a good excuse.

"Come on mum. I'm nearly twenty-five. Isn't it about time I gave you a grandchild" I joke, winking at her.

It's clear from her expression she isn't convinced. Quite the opposite. Worry brings her wrinkles closer together.

"Look mum, this isn't the time nor the place to discuss my sex life. Can we drop it please?"

I smile at her, trying to assure her everything is fine. Finally, she sighs and waves her hands in the air.

"I'll never understand you youngsters" she laughs.

For once I am grateful for her mental decline. Before her dementia mum would not have let the subject drop, rather persisting I tell her whilst frowning at me until I relented. I laugh with her, trying my best to act myself. We meander around the store until I find a perfume that is completely different from the one I wear. It smells nice, but it's not me. Nevertheless, I purchase it. We continue to walk around the shopping centre, grabbing mum's extensive list of gifts as we do.

"You finished?" I giggle, my arms barely visible under the numerous bags.

You could easily assume my mum had a large family as opposed to just her and myself. After losing my brother in an accident when I was ten, my parents had never fully recovered enough to have another child and so my family was but a small one. I myself had fallen pregnant three times, unbeknownst to mum. Each time Michael had been furious. He has never wanted children. My excitement and joy was not enough to stop him dragging me to the family planning clinic. Never has a pill felt so large as it lodged in my throat. Upon finding out I was pregnant a second and third time. I decided not to tell my husband until after twenty-four weeks, hoping because I could no longer have an abortion legally, he would allow the pregnancy to continue. I had underestimated him. His attacks had left me motherless and broken. The pain of losing my three beautiful children is still, even after all these years, far too raw to even contemplate trying again. Instead of embracing motherhood as I ought to have, my children were stolen from me, and for that I hate my husband. Mum looks over her list one last time before nodding.

"Yes, I think so"

Relieved, I lead her to where my car is parked before we begin the drive to my childhood home.