𝐅𝐨𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐘𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬 ( 𝐁𝐨𝐨𝐤 𝐎𝐧𝐞)

𝐓𝐡𝐢𝐫𝐭𝐲 - 𝐈𝐭 𝐖𝐚𝐬 𝐍𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐀 𝐋𝐢𝐚𝐢𝐬𝐨𝐧

𝐒𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐬𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐦𝐞𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐡 𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫!
~ 𝐀𝐯𝐢𝐣𝐞𝐞𝐭 𝐃𝐚𝐬~

𝐋𝐮𝐜𝐚

" Mom, what are you doing in my room?" I asked even though I could see she was folding my clothes. She was seated on my bedroom couch, legs beneath her, head bowed looking desolate, her hands mechanical with folding, precisely, perfectly, efficiently.

She lifted her face to me, and I read anxiety in them, sadness, and helplessness.

"I'm sorry," she said, her eyes fixed on my face.

"Don't be," I told her in a gentle voice. I haven't seen my mother this sad in a long time. The anguish in her eyes brought back childhood memories I would rather remain hidden in the depth of my brain. I was young, a child, really, but there is a part of me that remembers Freddie—her first husband—the man whom everyone thought was my father.

"I went to Alessa's room first, but she was asleep."  She told me, shifting her eyes from me and picking another t-shirt that required folding. She didn't say a word again until I spoke, my voice cutting through the silence.

"Are you worried because Alessa shot someone?" She grinned a little, shaking her head, "your father says that's not a big deal," she says. "Though I disagree, I think I can't change either of your fates," she adds.

"I guess not," I tell her, sitting on another seat beside her in my workout gear. I was out for a run, and I smelled sweat, I could feel it dripping down inside my clothes, especially my chest, but I sat still. My mother seemed to need me.

"Is this about your parents?" she shoots up her head at me, and I read the restlessness in her gaze which tells me I'm right on the money.

"Your father woke up early to go to the gym. " she says instead of answering my question. I do not reply, I don't know what to say to that, plus I know she is stalling, perhaps trying to figure out how to start this conversation. "I don't want him to have to worry about me, he is still mourning," she adds.

I nod. I know my father wouldn't mind listening to her and helping her deal with her heartbreak, but I understand that loving someone means worrying and being considerate of their feelings. My mom doesn't want to burden my dad.

"Do you have any good memories of your mother?" I ask.

She stops what she is doing, frozen, holding a towel in midair, suspended in thought or lost in memory, I couldn't tell.  Then she turns her intense look on my face. She still doesn't say a word, it's like her mouth can't move or perhaps she can't form words, or maybe she has no good memories of her, which is downright sad.

"I don't know," I could barely hear her. I nod. We sit in silence again. I'm sure she is going through her memory files trying to find at least a good memory of her mother. Isn't that devastating when I could name a million of mine and more?

"I'm sorry." she gives me a sad smile. I don't know what she is going through because even in my bad memories of Freddie, which are vivid but few, I have my mother's kisses, hugs, and eggrolls to remember.

"Do you think I'm selfish for not wanting you and Alessa to have a relationship with them?"

How the hell could she think that?

"No! You have a right to dictate who you want to be in your children's life. "

I tell her and I mean it. I understand that part. To protect your children from people who destroyed yours is every parent's prerogative.