Sighing, she grips my shoulders. “If you both are happy, sweetheart, then I won’t interfere. But just so you know—he fucks up with you even once, and I’ll forget I have a son.”
My eyes widen at her swearing. “Mama!”
“What?” She huffs. “You think I don’t swear?”
“I—”
My face flattens to a glare when she grins. Then I sober up, whispering hesitantly. “He’s… changed, Mama.”
Her grin softens to a smirk. “He changed the moment my skillet met his dumb noggin.”
An amused laugh slips out of me. “You’re unbelievable.”
We settle on the edge of my bed and I grab my pair of sandals that I picked out for tonight’s outfit.
“I’m worried for you, Charlotte.”
I freeze at Mama’s whispered words, my head slowly turning. “Why?”
She gives me a small smile. “Don’t get me wrong. I love my son to pieces. But he’s… he hurt you a lot.”
I open my mouth to respond but she shuts me up with a raised hand.
“I know he’s changed. I’m not denying any of that. And I’m also pretty sure he won’t ever hurt you again. I’m just… I’m worried thatyouwill remember that hurt from time to time. And it’ll be too big to forgive everytime.”
I shake my head. “I haven’t told him, but I’ve forgiven him, Mama.”
Her hand rises to cup my cheek, then slides down to fix my loose strands of hair. But her eyes never find mine. “Forgiveness is a funny thing, sweetheart. You’ve forgiven him today. Then someday you’ll remember the hurt. It might be too big, so you’ll have to forgive himagain. Then again if it comes crashing back.” She finally looks up and smiles dryly. “It’s an awful lifetime subscription, at times. And I don’t want you to go in blind.”
I stare at her, my heart sinking. But there’s a low simmer of hope still warming my chest.
“When that happens, Mama,” I whisper. “I’ll remembermorethan just the hurt. I’ll remember how he gave me space when I asked. How… he built peace for me with his own two hands.Hands he has changed in all but flesh. I’ll remember how he nearly died,” my voice cracks on the word, “to simply stay with me when I couldn’t feel more alone.”
My lower lip quivers, recalling the pain and tears marring his face—when helplessness took over both of us in that cell. How he chose to calm me down, over the fear clearly coiling his frame.
“I think…” I blink back my tears, clearing my throat. “I think I would rather risk occasional resurfacing of those hurtful memories, than simply… leaving. I think I can forgive him every time, Mama, because I’m forgiving thenewhim.”
She smiles wide, even through the tears. Nodding, she pats my cheek softly. “That’s exactly what I do when I need to forgive Paul.”
I smile wistfully, tears threatening.
Mama’s lips twitch, like she’s caught the storm in my head and decided she’s had enough of it.
“Well,” she sighs, dabbing her eyes lightly. “If you’re going to get all teary on me, at least warn me. I would’ve worn waterproof mascara.”
A startled laugh slips out of me.
“I’m serious,” she huffs, though her eyes are warm. “I’m raising you better than to smudge good makeup over a man.”
I roll my eyes, but the heaviness in my chest loosens just a little.
She bumps her shoulder into mine. “Now come on. Tell me something nice. Distract me before I start crying too.”
I hesitate. Then the question that’s been nagging me for a while now, slips out before I can stop it.
“Is it true?”
She glances at me, brow lifting.
