Sweet afternoons

Chapter twenty one

"Lena." Her voice hit my ear like a hammer striking steel, harsh and painful. Memories of that voice flew through my mind: all the times she'd yelled at me, said she was disappointed, insulted me under her breath when she thought I couldn't hear her.

For the first time, however, she didn't know what to say. There was no smart remark she could give, no curse word that could make her feel better. Other than my name, the only thing that made sense was silence.

I didn't blame her for being quiet. What is a mother meant to say after years of absence? There weren't any words that could bring either of us comfort. The world had yet to combine vowels and consonants in a way that could reflect the sadness in my mother's eyes. A sadness I was sure could be seen in my own, too.

The bubble eventually had to break. But it was neither of us who made that happen.

A throaty cough, violent in its sound, tore through the room and stole my attention. As my eyes laid on the bed in the middle of the room, the white sheets entangled across a frail torso, I met eyes with my father. He was attempting to sit up, his arms shaking terribly under the weight of his body.

"Oh my, dear!" My mother's voice shook with fright as she rushed to her husband's side to help him. Once he was sat up, pillows propped against his back, she poured him a glass of water and encouraged him to drink. At no point did her eyes stray from my father and I wondered if she was too scared to look away from him or too nervous to look towards me.

The thought forced me to turn away from the couple. Seeing them together, caring for one another, was harder than I had anticipated. I could scarcely hear her whispering to him gently and for a second, I saw the caring person I had always wanted my mother to be: Kind, loving, accepting. I had longed for her to show me compassion. But it was impossible.

"Lena, you've grown up to be so beautiful," My father spoke, slightly out of breath but with a voice filled with warmth.

I turned back towards him, taken aback by the affection. It was unexpected, to say the least. My parents had never called me beautiful before. Especially not in a tone that almost made it sound believable.

"It...It's nice to see you again Da-" I stopped myself quickly.

There was a lump in my throat, preventing me from getting out that word. It didn't feel right. Referring to him as my father, a title demanding closeness and familiarity, was against my judgments. After all these years I was still bitter towards my parents. As much as I wanted to move on I never could.

Noticing my hesitation, my father frowned before looking over my shoulder at something. His eyes scanned the figure behind me, taking in as much as he could of Andres without giving away his inner thoughts.

"And who is this young man?" He asked curiously, his tone suggesting he already knew the answer.

With the attention now on him, Andres no longer felt the need to stay out of the way. Instead, the man moved to stand beside me and took my shaky hand in his firm one. The comfort was instant and my fingers wrapped themselves around Andres' as if unwilling to ever let go again.

"I am Lena's boyfriend, my name is Andres. It's very nice to meet you, sir," It was a forward introduction, polite but unwavering in its message. Despite his traditional values, Andres was not asking for my parent's permission to be where he was. Instead, the man was stating his claim as my partner and daring them to challenge either of us.

It became clear to me that he was as wary of my parents as I was.

I was unusually relieved at this revelation.

"Boyfriend? Him?" I heard my mother mutter in awe, not bothering to hide the evident shock that she was feeling. The woman's eyes scanned Andres from head to toe, flickering to look at me occasionally as if comparing us where we stood. Could she not have tried to be less obvious?