Total pages in book: 71
Estimated words: 82678 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 413(@200wpm)___ 331(@250wpm)___ 276(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82678 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 413(@200wpm)___ 331(@250wpm)___ 276(@300wpm)
Mother’s eyes focused on me and she smiled softly. It looked horribly sad on her worn out face. She’d been so beautiful and proud once, and now she was only a shell of that woman.
“My sweet Lily,” she said.
I pressed my lips together. Mother had never been the overly affectionate type. She’d hugged us and read bedtime stories to us and generally tried to be the best mother she knew how to be, but she’d almost never called us nicknames. “Yes, I’m here.” At least until Father tried to send me away again. If it was up to him Mother would be locked away from everyone she loved, only cared for by the nurses he’d hired until she finally passed away. I tried to tell myself it was because he wanted to protect her, to let a proud woman be remembered as she used to be and not only for her sickness, but I had a feeling that wasn’t his main incentive. Sometimes I wondered if he was embarrassed by her.
“Where are your sisters? And Fabi?” She peered over my head as if she expected to see them there.
I lowered my gaze to her chin, not able to look into her eyes. “Fabi is busy with school.” That was a blatant lie. Father made sure Fabi was busy with God-only-knew-what, so he didn’t spend too much time with our mother. As if Father worried her sickness would rub off on Fabi if he got too close. “Aria and Gianna will be here soon. They can’t wait to see you again.”
“Did your Father call them?” Mother asked.
I didn’t want to lie to her again. But how could I tell her that Father didn’t want them to come visit our dying Mother, that they wouldn’t even have known she was close to dying if I hadn’t called them. I filled her glass with water and held it up to her lips. “You need to drink.”
Mother took a small sip but then she turned her head away. “I’m not thirsty.”
My heart broke as I sat the glass back down on her nightstand. I searched for something to talk to my mother about, but the thing I really wanted to tell her about, my crush on Romero, was something I couldn’t trust her with. “Do you need anything? I could get you some soup.”
She gave a small shake of her head. She was watching me with a strange expression and I was starting to feel uncomfortable. I wasn’t even sure why. There was such a look of forlornness and longing in her gaze that it spoke to a dark place deep inside of me. “God, I don’t even remember how it is to be young and carefree anymore.”
Carefree? I hadn’t felt carefree for a very long time.
“There’s so much I wanted to do, so many dreams I had. Everything seemed possible.” Her voice got stronger as if the memory drew energy from somewhere deep inside of her body.
“You have a beautiful house and many friends and children who love you,” I said but even as I did I knew it was the wrong thing to say, and I hated this feeling of always doing the wrong thing, of not being able to help.
“I do,” she said with a sad little smile. Slowly it faded. “Friends who don’t visit.”
I couldn’t deny it and I wasn’t even sure if Father was why they stayed away or if they’d really never cared about my mother in the first place. I opened my mouth to say something, another lie I’d feel guilty for later, but Mother kept talking. “A house that was paid for with blood money.”
Mother had never admitted that Father was doing horrible things for our money and I’d never gotten the impression that she cared much either. Money and luxury were the only things Father had always given freely to her and us. I held my breath, half-curious and half-terrified of what she would say next. Did she regret having had kids? Were we a disappointment for her?
She patted my hand. “And you kids…I should have protected you better. I was always too weak to stand up for you.”
“You did everything you could. Father would have never listened to you anyway.”
“No, he wouldn’t have,” she whispered. “But I could have tried harder. There are so many things I regret.”
I couldn’t deny it. I’d often wished that she would have stood up for us, especially for Gianna, when Father had lost it again. But there was no use in making her feel bad for something that couldn’t be changed.
“You only have this one life, Lily. Make the best of it. I wish I had done it and now it’s too late. I don’t want you to end like me, to look back at a life full of missed opportunities and lost dreams. Don’t let life pass you by. You are braver than me, brave enough to fight for your happiness.”
I swallowed, stunned by her passionate speech. “What do you mean?”
“Before I married your father, I was in love with a young man who worked in my father’s restaurant. He was sweet and charming. He wasn’t part of our world.”
I glanced toward the door, worried Father would overhear us. As if that could happen. As if he would actually set foot into this room. “Did you love him?”
“Maybe. But love is something that develops with time and we never got the chance. I could have loved him very much, I’m sure of it. We kissed behind the dumpsters once. It was cold outside and it smelled of garbage, but it was the most romantic moment of my life.” A sweet smile was on her face, an expression I’d never seen on my mother before.
Pity squeezed my heart tight. Had Father never done anything romantic for her? “What about Father?”
“Your Father…” she trailed off. She took a few shuddering breaths. Even with the help of the oxygen tank, she was struggling to breathe. “He doesn’t have time for romance. He never had.”