All The Memories That We Made [Completed]

Love Is Where Home Is

It's almost like she heard my thoughts, for looking more irritated and visibly tired of the whole drama herself, she sighs deeply.

'I'm sure Sarah, that you were sent here by someone else. Another agency maybe?' She states more than asks. I shrug and she takes that as a yes.

'Do you know why?'

'No.' I shake my head.

I really wonder why. Trust me, I do.

She carries on, unaware of my thoughts. 'My point, is that I'm more than a publisher. I'm a counselor as well.'

'Yes?' I really want to say 'So?' but that would sound very rude.

'It means.,' She says a bit more loudly, getting impatient. 'That I already know your case.'

I shake my head, finally daring to speak my thoughts. 'It's not a case, sorry to disappoint you. It's a story.'

'Am I wrong to suggest that your Mother has been going through severe depression?' She asks tartly.

'Wrong.' I reply dryly. 'My Mother went through depression, and calling it severe doesn't explain the extent of it.' I resist the temptation to snort. I don't know why, but I really much want to.

'She's better now.' I add, after a full minute of silence. 'I believe that old memories can be forgotten if they are enough new ones.'

Wow. I'm quoting Ellie.

She shakes her head, lips pursed. 'You don't even know what you're talking about.'

'I don't?' I interrupt. She looks wearier by each second.

'Yes, you don't.' She says more forcefully. 'You're way too young to understand the 'extents' as you all them, of pain, or depression.'

'You're wrong then.' I cut her off again. She closes her mouth angrily, which she had opened again to say something further. Even if I am being rude, at least I am talking about something I know about.

Perhaps I couldn't have said the same thing a month ago. But I know my Mother better now. More than this ignorant lady who refuses to be proved wrong.

'And how am I wrong?' She asks softly, her eyes flashing.

'You don't my Mother as well as I do.' I sigh, feeling tired suddenly. My past catches up with me every time I talk about my Mother, and an ache that I haven't forgotten yet.

'I'm not here to urge, to be honest.' I can't help but add. 'I'm here to ask if you can help publish my book. Not to discuss any cases of mine or my Mother's.'

She looks like she has drank something very sour. Heaving another deep sigh, she pushes my folder back at me.

'I have already read..,' She looks at the folder thoughtfully. 'Your story.' She adds, not looking convincing enough.

'And what do you think?' I ask, wanting to know, even if it means having more arguments. If I had tortured my soul this much, another ten minutes shouldn't hurt that much.

'I think.' She avoids my eyes. ' I think that your story is very confusing.'

I open my mouth to respond, but she speaks over me.

'And your story doesn't makes sense.'

'Which part?' I ask politely.

She blushes a little, but looks more angry about it than normally people are.

'Don't try and act smart.' She spits. 'Don't try and sound like you know everything.'

I shrug, leaning back on my chair, wishing it wasn't so hard. ' I am merely asking you a question. If.,' I shoot her a bored look. 'I thought that I knew everything. I wouldn't ask you questions. I would be telling you facts.'

She brushes off my words like a lame fly. 'What is the point of your story?'

I can't help but lean forward a little and smile. 'I'm glad you asked before passing judgements.' I ignore her sour look. ' The point of the story is that there is a way. It took me years to believe in that. And in these years, I was miserable. What was the point?' I sigh for the millionth time. 'When I still had what I loved the most? I let my Mother get stuck with her past. I didn't helped her as I should have. I wasn't there for her when she needed me.'

She shakes her head again, and I can't help but wish that her bun comes loose. 'Your Mother wouldn't talk, she wouldn't tell you the reasons. How could you be there for someone who wouldn't tell why she was hurting so much?'

'Sometimes it's questions that bother the victim so much.' I reply, feeling deeply sad. 'Sometimes they just want to be held. I wouldn't hold my Mother, because she wouldn't answer my questions. We both made mistakes. We're both trying to correct it.'

'So that's what people want? To be held?' She speaks even more softly, a smug expression on her face.

'What's your problem?' I spit back. Enough is enough. 'Stop being so ignorant. I came here to ask if you would help publish my book. My personal life is my life, nothing for you to poke your nose in. Either just tell me whether you can help me or not. Or else shut your mouth.'

Okay. I didn't meant to say the last part.

Her face was red already, from stress and work for sure. Now it's as dark as the curtains behind. She takes a couple of deep breathes, then manages to speak, her voice cracking with anger.

'Leave.'

I stand up, feeling tired. Walking to the door, I glance back one time, and speak one last truth.

'My point of the story was that I accepted. I accepted even when it took me years. Sometimes you just have to accept. And that,' I add. ' That isn't stupid. It's called life. Sorry, my story wasn't up to your standards. But books are meant to be read with care, to understand. You wouldn't understand even if you read it a million times. Because you deny to accept what's in it.'

Then, I walk out of the room and shut the door.

***

Ellie rushes towards me as I park my car outside our house. Since the last month, she have become a frequent visitor, and I can't deny, she's great company.

'What happened?' She asks but then her eyes fall upon the folder that I'm still holding and her face falls.

'It's okay' I assure her. 'I'll write something else, I've got a million ideas. Maybe.,' I look thoughtfully at the window that shows my Mother working in the kitchen. 'Maybe, some people just don't understand little things that brings out more in people.' I give her a quick smile. 'I wouldn't have agreed to get my book printed there anyway. The staff there is crazy.'

'Tell me about it' She rolls her eyes, but the giggle escapes from her lips anyway.

I start smiling but then stop, looking at her.

'What?'

I shake my head. 'I was just thinking about what you said.'

She smirks. 'I say far too much, my Mother says. Remind me what I said kind lady, I don't have that smart of a brain.'

I roll my eyes, before giving her a light shove.

'Hey!'

'Don't be so sensitive' I smirk.

'Tell me what I said.' She shoves me back.

'You said. Old memories can be forgotten if there are enough new memories.'

'Happy memories.' She corrects me.

'Well yes, whatever. I was thinking. How do you make new memories when there are so many bad ones?'

She smiles. 'You let go.'

'Just like that?' I roll my eyes.

She takes my hand and squeezes it. 'Yes. Just like that.'

'For your Mother.' She adds.

'For her.' I smile back at her.