12
A month earlier, the day after I’d received
that call from Chloe, my coworker told me
she was pregnant. “I hope it’s a girl,” she
said, a soft smile on her face as she placed
her hand on her still–flat stomach. “I’ve
always wanted a daughter. I’ve been craving oranges since I got pregnant. Her nickname
will be Clementine.” She was the toughest
woman in our department, but her face
softened when she talked about her baby.
く
She noticed me staring. “Ashley, what’s
wrong?”
“Nothing,” I shook my head.
That night, I dreamt of before I was born.
Mom, discovering she was pregnant, gently
touched her stomach just like my coworker.
She said, “Ashley. We’ll call her Ashley. I
craved peaches so much when I was pregnant
with her.
It was the love I’d always longed for.
I went back to therapy. My therapist said, “If
you can’t move forward, try going back.”
Some wounds couldn’t be healed with
medication. They’d become demons haunting
- me.
I bought the gold bracelet. Mom’s birthday
was in two months. The saleswoman asked,
“Would you like to write a card for your
mother?”
I said yes and took the pen from her.
One more try, I thought. Just one more try. I
wasn’t a helpless child anymore, and she was
getting older. Maybe we could talk.
Pathetic, how desperately I still wanted her
love.
But there would be no more chances. That
rainy day, I answered that call. My fate had
been sealed a month earlier.
My ashes and belongings were brought home,
then laid to rest in the cemetery on the
outskirts of town, next to my twin brother. His
urn was tiny. The day of the funeral was
overcast, but it didn’t rain. Mom stood by my
gravestone all day, her grief and regret finally
surfacing. I thought I’d feel satisfaction, relief.
But watching her pain, I felt nothing but
indifference. Decades of pain and turmoil had
been condensed into those final hours, and
now, there was nothing left.
That night, Mom sat quietly on the sofa. She
<
was retired now. Zach went back to school,
Dad went back to work, Chloe returned to her
new life with Finn. Everyone moved on after
that brief interruption.
After a long silence, Mom smiled faintly.
“Ashley,” she whispered, “now it’s just the
two of us… stuck here.”
