Abruptly, she stands up and loses her balance, but I grab her elbow and steady her. When I glance to the side, Dad is a second late to help her.
Mom erases the distance between us and wraps her arms around my waist. She hugs me tight as if she’d never let go.
But I know she will.
In a few days she’ll be gone. I’ll forget how warm her embrace feels like. I’ll forget how she smells exactly like summer and spring—flowers and fruits. I’ll forget how when she hugs me, thechild in me runs to her silhouette, excited to reach her so he can talk to her.
Those little facts will fade away with time, like leaves change color in autumn and are eventually gone by winter.
“I thought you were gone,” she murmurs. “That you’d never come back…like her.”
My eyes shoot to Dad who closes his eyes momentarily, and when he opens them those gray irises are filled with so much agony it surprises me how he doesn’t sink into it.
I place my palm on her back.
“I am here and I’m not going anywhere,” I tell her.
“For how long?”
“Forever.”
She looks up at me to read me. “You really mean that?”
I nod.
Mom watches me for a long moment, then says, “Your eyes are just like hers… so blue.” She cups the side of my face in her shaky hand. “They remind me of her.”
They remind of her too.Always.
Before she can say more, Dad pulls her out of my embrace and wraps his arm around her waist, supporting most of her weight.
“Let’s go sleep and don’t wander off this time.”
So I guess this happens frequently.
Mom sniffles. “I like sleeping here.”
“C’mon now. I’m done with work.”
They walk out of the room when Mom looks back. “Are you going to stay here? I can stay with you.”
I glance at Dad who wants to take her to their room so she can sleep. The dark circles under her eyes are going to get darker if she doesn’t rest and sleep.
One look from him and I know what he wants me to say. Just to go against him, I want to say the opposite, but what good will that do?
Mom will suffer, meaning Dad will suffer.
I can hurt both of them.
The question is, why can’t I?
I’ve never held any feelings for them. They are not important to me. I don’t care about them.
The why does it feel like all of that is a lie?
Anger and frustration sizzles through my veins. My fingers curl into tight fists, ready to attack. A second later, they start shaking.
I feel like a mess because my head is all over the place.
