It’s not real. I know it’s not.
I close my eyes, wiggle my toes against the floor, and begin counting my breaths.
1, 2, 3, 4…
Doctor Franklin said it’s normal to have dreams when a parent dies so tragically.
“It isn’t uncommon for the dreams to become night terrors,” he explained with the warmth of a rattlesnake.
When you open your eyes, she’ll be gone.
I take five or six more deep breaths, then finally work up the courage to open my eyes.
She isn’t gone. No, she’s rising to her feet and approaching me with outstretched arms. “Oh, Felix.”
My resolve disintegrates. Whatever mind-fuck this is, I’ll take it because I need it. I run toward her, falling into her arms and squeezing her close. This is all I’ve wanted—one last hug.
A painful sob rips from my throat.
I’m holding her.
Her golden hair is as silky as the day she died, and the white nightgown we buried her in feels smooth on my freezing fingers.
She’s so cold.
That’s the only difference from how she used to be. My mother radiated warmth and humor in a world filled with old money and political corruption. My father’s policies are a blessing for the rich and a disaster for the people living in the Patch—the “bad” side of Belmont.
Mother was the only light in this life until she extinguished it.
“I miss you so much, Felix.”
Tears pour from my eyes, but I manage to utter the question I’ve wanted to ask since the moment I found her. “Why? Why did you do it?”
I knew she was depressed; her mental health had taken a dramatic turn for the worse, but I never thought she’d do something like this.
Her face falls, and with downcast eyes, she shakes her head. “I—” she stops, her voice giving out, then takes a deep breath and says. “There are things I wish I could say, but I can’t.”
I want to scream,well, why the fuck not?I’m so angry and hurt that she did it, but I can’t stop myself from wrapping my arms around her again. “I miss you so much.”
Mother kisses my cheek, the way she always used to. “I miss you every single day, my love.” She gently takes my face in her hands and looks into my eyes. “I’m sorry,” she whispers.
Hearing those words heals something within. At least she’s acknowledging how much she hurt me.
“I want to go with you—”
“No.” It’s abrupt.Stern. My mother usually laughed things off with her trademark sardonic wit. The few moments of sternness she exhibited always left a lasting impact. “You and I are on different paths, Felix. You’re destined for somethingbetter.”
I want to protest because,like hell, I am! Father despises me for having a nervous breakdown after her death. To him, it was a display of weakness—not to mention something that would have been a disaster if the media got hold of the story—a fate worse than death for Mayor Hargrove. I had to take my sophomore year off at Cornell because I simply couldn’t handle anything, which only added to my humiliation in his eyes. God forbid I take a moment to grieve the suicide of myfucking mother.
“I know you’re hurting, my love, but something is coming.” Her face brightens, and she flashes a dazzling smile. “I have a gift for you.” She whisks back to the chair, jumpy with excitement, and retrieves a…
What on Earth?
She hurries over and hands me a hunk of metal that kind of resembles a heart.
“What is this?” I ask.
“A carburetor.”
