My mom is here!
I open the door and stare at her face for a moment. She looks the same and smiles with a bouquet in her hands. I think I should change my shocked face for a smile.
“M…” My throat tightens, I can’t speak. My eyes are filled with tears. I almost can’t see.
“Cassie!” She yells while opening her arms for me to hug her. I ran towards her to do just that.
Her touch.
Her smell.
Her voice… Oh, God, I missed her voice. It’s really her.
She can’t stop crying and neither can I; my pajama sleeves and her shoulders are completely wet with my tears. The guards smile at me and one of them tries to hide a sudden tear by scurrying away from us. She comes in and asks me for a vase to put the flowers. We sit down and start chatting about regular mother and daughter stuff. She doesn’t ask about what happened to me, and I don’t tell her either. She’s going to stay with me for a while. She loves the new name; maybe now I’ll get used to it.
???
Dr. Gonzales suggested a session with my mom. I didn’t like the idea at first, but my mother insisted on participating as well. It was two against one and I had to give in.
Today is Monday. The three of us are sitting at the table.
“In this session, we’re going to try to address the avalanche of feelings you’re probably experiencing right now, Sarah.”
“Okay, I will admit that the idea of not finding my mom was tormenting me day and night, and now that she’s here, I can start worrying about other stuff. Hehe.” I laugh nervously.
“I understand that, and it’s okay to be nervous, Sarah. How do you feel, Mrs. Phillips?” My mother sighs loudly before answering her question.
“This feels different to what I’d pictured in my head. We never gave up on you, we always knew we would see you again. I fought relentlessly until your father passed away. When he did, I realized he was the one fueling and pushing the investigation forward, talking to reporters, sending letters to nonprofit organizations— he even spoke with the President! Once he was gone, I gave up. It was too much for me to handle, and I couldn’t find the strength to cope with his loss and keep searching for you. For that I’m sorry. I should have been stronger.”
“It’s okay, mom… You’re here now, that’s what matters.” I try to calm her while handing her some Kleenexes.
“It must have been devastating, not being able to find her. But here she is! We must celebrate this!”
“I know that.” My mom replies with a mournful tone. “It was very hard, seeing you in all those videos, the suffering you had to endure because of that bastard.”
“Eh-erm… He’s not a bastard,”says Life, and I lock her away in a wardrobe.
“That’s over now, mom.” I don’t want to talk about it right now, and she’s trying to get me to talk about it. Every time I think about that, I get emotional and can’t talk.
“Stop lying! Say the truth! The only reason you don’t want to talk about it is because you’re afraid you’ll fuck it up and give up his identity, and they’ll know you’re protecting him!”Life yells from the imaginary wardrobe.
My mom turns to the Dr. asking for help with the universal expression for ‘your turn.’ They have this understanding between them that I don’t really like, it makes me feel like I’m always one step behind.
“Sarah, you need to understand, and I’m telling you this as a mother, that it’s normal for your mom to ask about what happened. She wants to help you get through this, and you should let her in, little by little…” Yeah. Nope. Not happening.
“Coward!”Life broke free from the wardrobe and is back in her armchair. I can hear her loud and clear.
Chapter Nine
Like a tattoo.
Sarah
It’s a regular Wednesday morning and I’m spending it by lying on the grass in my beautiful garden. I’m watching the tree leaves over my head dance under the warm breeze; they sound like a lullaby. Chirping birds and squirrels jumping among the bushes complete the moment. The skies are mostly clear. Nothing seems out of place; all of this is a perfect picture. My mind, on the other hand, can’t be a part of this picture. If anybody looked at me right now, they’d be deceived to think I’m completely calm. Don’t get me wrong, I do look calm on the outside when actually I feel like I’m going a thousand miles an hour as if I had a load of coke running through my veins. Trains of thought collide with each other, explode against imaginary walls and then reemerge stronger. Those thoughts must share the space within my mind with the countless versions of myself; some of them are screaming existential questions nonstop, while others are just running in circles. I need some quiet time, some peace of mind.
Late last night, my mother went back to her place to collect some of her belongings. She decided to stay with me for a while. I didn’t think it was a bad idea when she proposed it, so I said yes. I guess I was so happy to have her with me, that I never thought she’d become a nuisance when I need to calm down and relax. So here I am, trying to make the most of this ‘alone time,’ trying to sail this sea of emotions. I can think about pretty much anything —my mom and dad, my new home, my new take on life, my future—, but this sea has a weird pull and I always end up washing ashore this island where there are only two things to think of— Bruno and his letter. I still don’t have an answer for a lot of questions, but there’s one that bugs me the most. Why did he write it? Being a cold-hearted man, like he says he is, it shouldn’t bother him if I forgive him or not. If you ask me, that’s confusing.
It has been a month since I last saw him and yet his image is imprinted in my mind like a tattoo. Nothing faded, everything’s still vivid— those light green eyes, his hairstyle and how neat he always looks. He must be like 6’5” and has a very wide back. I’ve never met a man this massive. I remember the first time I saw him. I thought he was going to kill me just by looking in my direction.
