40 Family Bond
Wind's howling while caressing the flowers. The cemetery's quiet and peaceful. An empty feeling is urging out of my chest as I look at the tombstone before me.
"Who are you?" A voice interrupts my loneliness.
I turn around, only to find a woman standing close to me. She's middle-aged, with fair black hair. "Mia," I manage to say. "You don't remember me?"
She has a resting face with an unknown expression. "Never seen you here before."
"I'm... I was busy."
She says nothing and stares at me for a few long seconds. "For twelve years?" she asks, and I keep quiet, my mind racing with disturbing thoughts. She wants to talk, but something stops her. Some blood spills out of her mouth, and her words fade.
"Mia?" Smith shouts.
I open my eyes. My whole body is in a cold sweat. Smith is sitting on my bed with his hands on my shoulders to snap me out of the dream.
"You alright?" he asks, and I take a few seconds to nod.
I wipe my forehead with my hand. "What happened?"
"You were whining in your sleep."
"I'm... fine. Sorry. I woke you."
"Were you having a nightmare?"
The face of the woman appears in front of my face. "I don't remember," I lie.
"You need anything?"
"No. Thank you."
He gets up to leave. I lie down again, this time afraid of falling asleep.
The morning comes. I find it difficult to get out of bed. My legs and face have swollen, which I see on my phone's camera. Someone knocks on my door.
"Come in," I say and fix my posture.
"Good morning," Ian says, entering the room with flowers.
"Ah, Ian. Good morning, sweetie."
"How are you feeling?"
"Pregnant. You?"
He sits by my side, handing me the flowers. "I'm fine."
I smell them immediately. "Thank you! They're beautiful."
"You're welcome. I got worried about you."
"Why?"
"You can't stay here any longer. We need to go home."
"I said I would consider it."
"Well, you're not getting any better. So, you need to decide."
"I'm fine," I say again. Ian arches his brow, and I realize Smith has told him about my nightmare. "Jesus, are you two dating each other?" I ask him, looking at Smith with a scowl.
"Don't change the subject," Ian says.
"I said I'll consider it. Give me some time. I'm not coming to a place where my baby is judged only for existing!"
"Mom is not like that."
"Mom? When did Linda become Mom?"
"When you were gone for twelve years, and mom died."
My ears start to ring, and I keep quiet for a few seconds. I don't remember how my actual mom behaved. "Linda's not fond of me and my baby," I say.
"She's mad at you because you ran away," Ian says. I chuckle sarcastically. "What?" he asks.
"I don't care about her," I say. "If I wanted to come back—"
"When you want to come back," he corrects me.
"If," I emphasize, "I want to come back, it's only for you."
"What about Dad?" he asks. I say nothing.
His brows furrow. "We'll have lunch today. We want you to join us."
"You're talking like a cult leader."
"Mia!" He says, frustrated. I show him my legs. "Oh, my God," he says in shock.
"I know."
"Is that normal?"
"I don't know what's normal at this point. All I know is that my pregnancy's a sensitive one. I need to take care of myself, or I might—lose the baby..."
"Okay. What if we just come here for lunch?"
"Um..."
"You don't want us here?"
"You know what? Screw it. We'll order something."
"Great. I'll call Mom and Dad."
A few hours later, the doorbell rings. I can't tell if the reason for my nausea is the lunch with my family or my pregnancy. There are a few brief contractions that come and go. I don't want to ruin the dinner, so I don't mention the pain to Ian. I get the door. My father is holding flowers, and Linda is holding his arm. She is wearing red lipstick. I remember the blood that spilled from that woman's mouth in my dream. I shake my thoughts away and welcome them inside. My father hands me the flowers and takes his coat off.
"Nice to see you," I greet them. "Come on in."
"Hi. Where do I hang this?" my dad asks.
"My room," I say.
"Let me help with that," Ian says. He runs to my room.
"Wow," Linda says with a grin on her face.
I look around to find the reason why she's amazed. "What happened?" I ask.
"He doesn't even hang his clothes," she says. "It's odd."
"Why don't you sit?"
She sits by my old father. "What have you cooked, dear?" she asks.
I put a plate in front of her. "Nothing. I ordered."
"Oh. Nice. I just thought you would—cook," Linda says, looking disappointed.
I say nothing. Smith's words keep me in control; 'For Ian,' he said. Yeah, I will tolerate her for Ian. I can do that.
"She can't cook, mom. She doesn't feel good," Ian says, sitting across from my father.
"I know, sweetheart. I can see," Linda says, smiling at him. Now, we are all waiting for our food to arrive while sitting at the table.
"Have you started packin' yet?" My father unexpectedly asks. I gulp and shake my head. "We're leavin' tomorrow. You don't have much time," he informs.
"This soon? But you just came here," I say.
"We came to get you. There's no need to stay more."
"Packing is too hard for me, Dad. I can't even move."
"We'll help you pack."
"Really, Bob?" Linda says, cutting off our conversation. "You can't even walk properly."
"I walk perfectly fine," my dad says with a warning tone.
"Why don't you tell her you've been lying on the bed for a few months?" Linda says. "You barely stand straight."
"Nobody has to move anything," I say. "Is it something serious, Dad?"
"No," he responds shortly.
"It is," Linda says. "He's not young anymore. Nor am I. I haven't swept the porch in years. We've already done too much heavy lifting, as you know. Life was hard on us, and now our body's suffering."
Heavy-lifting? I feel my blood boiling. Another contraction hits, and I hold my breath for a few seconds. "You mean your job, which you got paid for," I say, putting my hands on the table.
She looks shocked. My father doesn't interfere. "My job?" she asks.
"You were my mother's caregiver," I say, challenging her with my gaze. "Or have you forgotten?"
She looks enraged. "Is this the way to talk to me?" she asks.
"I didn't know you're sensitive about your past job," I say. Linda opens her mouth, ready to comment, but I speak again. "I didn't ask for your help, anyway."
"But you don't do it yourself either," she says. The doorbell rings, but I don't move a hand. Ian's quick to get to the door and pay the delivery guy. We all stay silent while trying to eat.
"You said you had a job," Dad says, and I nod. "Have you quit?"
"No. I took the maternity leave," I say. The door opens, and Smith enters. He greets everyone and walks to his room.
"Oliver, was it?" Linda says and stops him from walking.
"Yes," he responds.
"Why don't you eat with us?" she asks.
"I—Uh... I wouldn't disturb."
"Don't be silly. Join us." She insists. He gets a plate and does as she says. "So, Oliver," she starts poking into his life, "What do you do for a living?"
"I don't work for now," Smith says, "except for Uber driving."
"You work at Uber?" she asks, and he nods. "Ian delivers pizzas," she states unnecessarily.
"I know," Smith says.
"Not much, but he believes he can look after everyone."
"I'm sure he can do what he puts his mind up to," Smith says, smiling at Ian.
"Thank you, man," Ian says. "Could you help us pack Mia's stuff?"
Smith stays quiet for a few seconds. "Are you moving?" he asks me, and I say nothing. I don't know what I am doing, but I nod. "Sure," he says to Ian. "When are you going?"
"Tomorrow," Ian says.
"Oh! Wow. Let's get to it then."
I ask my dad and Linda to stay put as Oliver comes to my room to help me. Ian decides to get a few boxes and leaves the house. Smith's quietly folding my clothes, and I'm looking for the important stuff in my drawers. I come across a picture I have tried to avoid for a long time;
A woman with hazel eyes and black hair is in the picture, hugging a girl.
The woman is my mother. She looks healthy, hugging me before going to her first chemotherapy. I almost forgot her face and how she looked, but this morning, I saw her vividly in my dream. She looked a little paler than in this photo. I wish I could dream of her in better situations.
"Would you read them, or should I leave them here?" Smith asks, and I turn to see he's holding some books.
"I have too much stuff," I say. "I'll come back once again to get the rest."
"Who's that?" he asks, seeing the picture in my hand.
I look back at the picture again. It still aches my heart, so I put it away. "It's... my mom," I say.
He realizes my reluctance to talk about it, so he doesn't mention it again. "You'll be back three months later," he says, referring to the books. "Just leave them here."
"I'm not coming back."
"What?" he turns to look at me.
"I'm moving out."
"Are you serious?"
"Yes."
"This is your house!" he says in a frustrated tone.
"You can use it as long as you want."
"Is this what I asked you?"
"What do you want me to say?"
"You were going to leave without saying?"
"You already knew I was leaving. You asked Ian to come and take me."
"I didn't ask him to take you!"
"Oliver, I'm not mad at you. I understand. I'm a pregnant woman on 24/7 rest with a high risk of miscarriage. My life is more dramatic than the whole Keeping Up with The Kardashians. The only difference is I have no money. Or a rich family. Or fame. I'm sorry if I couldn't be the friend that you needed. I became a burden to you instead."
"You're not a burden—"
We are cut off when Linda knocks on the door and enters. "Anything you need?" she asks as she explores my room with her eyes. The moment I see her face, my contractions begin. When does this day end? How am I going to live with her?
"No," my answer is firm.
"Hurry up. We have to leave in the morning."
"I can't take a road trip in the morning. I already get morning sickness, and car rides make me worse."
"Well, we're leaving in the morning. You might need to come alone if you don't wanna come with us."
I slowly get to my feet as I hold my belly. "People will think you don't want me to come." I feel a contraction, but I keep standing.
She laughs and pats me on my arm. "You're funny, dear. What I want is not important here."
"Thank God," I say, and she frowns. "Why are you in my room?"
"Oh, I'm sorry if I interrupted anything," she says. Smith says nothing and keeps folding my clothes. "Seems like somebody's gonna miss the mother of his child," she says, staring at Smith. Smith looks at Linda suddenly with raised eyebrows.
"Are you done accusing everyone of random things?" I say to her, and she stops smiling.
"I was just joking, Mia. Why do you always hate what I say or do?!"
I let out a wince when another contraction hits. Oliver runs to me quickly. "Are you okay?" he asks.
"Oh, she's fine," Linda says. "Don't worry. She's just sad that she'll be away from you."
"Can you shut the fuck up?" I shout while holding my belly and trying not to get worked up.
"Mia!" Smith says, standing between us now.
Linda gets shocked. "Is this the way you talk now?!"
"I'm not okay. You're stressing the fuck out of me!"
"You know what's stressing you? The truth! I always say the truth!" she says, "We're not stupid. You're living together and have a thing going on."
"Oh, my God!" I move my hands to my head, trying to stop myself from hitting her. "What if he's the father? He's not married! He doesn't have a sick wife on her deathbed! Whatever I do will never outdo your sins." Her mouth opens in disbelief. She didn't expect me to bring up the things she did. "So, why do you really care?"
She instantly thinks of something to answer. "You're moving in with us like you already haven't embarrassed your father by escaping the house," she says. "If he hasn't said anything, it's because he cares about Ian. Ian was the one who made us come here. We don't even want you. Now there's a bastard child we should care for besides you."
I let another wince out, and this time the contraction lasts longer. "Mrs. Collins. Please get out," Smith says, scared of my situation.
"This doesn't end with this family; you know?" she says despite Smith's warning. "They're all cursed! I've been taking care of her father for years. Now he's started to wet the bed, and I have to clean it! Like I used to clean her sick mother for years. The things that I did. I wiped her ass, for God's sake! But Mia wouldn't know 'cause she wasn't there! Where was she? God knows in what places, with what creeps doing what evil things!" As she keeps humiliating me, I feel my legs shaking. The entire world gets black for me. She continues, "We prayed to the lord to keep her safe. Now, look at her! Growing a bastard child inside her. She escaped the house to leave her sick mom alone and her father and brother with more grief!"
Smith grabs her arm. "I don't want to disrespect you. Get out before I hurt you."
"Oh, really?" she says. "You would hurt me?"
"No," I say, feeling the worst contraction through my lower parts, "But I fucking would!"
Before I can comprehend the words that exit my mouth, I throw my fist at her face, and she falls to the floor. Smith's mouth is wide open. Terror is on his face.
"What the hell did you just do?" he asks, and I stay in the same spot with my fist in my other hand. "Are you mad?" He sits down to check if she's okay.
"Oliver?" I mumble lowly.
"Mrs. Collins? Can you hear me?" he says, trying to get a response from her.
"Oliver?" I say again in a louder voice.
"What?!" he glances up but can't ignore the floor getting wet.
"I think... I think my water just broke..."