[Claire’s Epilogue]
My mom was famous.
The old TV crackled, showing a news report
about her. Her words at the piano
competition, about perseverance and
pursuing happiness, had gone viral, inspiring
countless high school seniors facing their
final exams. Even my classmates called,
envious of my “amazing” mother, praising her
beauty and wisdom.
“Yeah, she’s pretty great,” I’d mumbled.
But… she didn’t want me anymore.
My final exams had ended three days ago, but
I felt no sense of relief. I hadn’t taken them.
I touched my swollen belly, sighing. In just a
few months, I felt decades older. Night had
fallen. My boyfriend was still out drinking. I
didn’t know when, or if, he’d return. When he
did, it would be a night of drunken rage,
<
punches and kicks that threatened my unborn
child.
Sometimes, I wished he’d just… end it. End
my misery.
I looked at the empty pill bottle on the floor.
I’d swallowed the entire bottle of sleeping
pills. My eyelids were heavy.
I forced myself awake, picking up my cracked
phone, replaying videos of Amy’s
performance and award acceptance. A
strange feeling gnawed at me.
It should have been me.
<
Winning the competition, receiving the
scholarship. Being her daughter.
It should have been me.
Why wasn’t it?
When had everything changed?
Maybe when I started complaining about her
stained apron. Maybe when I found her
constant reminders to practice annoying.
Maybe when I grew tired of her ordinary life.
My mind grew numb, thoughts blurring.
<
Finally, release.
I managed a faint smile, closing my eyes.
Too late.
My life, a complete mess. Beyond repair.
I just hoped…
That in the next life, when I saw her again,
she would forgive me.
And say,
“Claire, dinner’s ready.”
