Page 74 of The Kiss of Deception

In my periphery, I see her ankles uncross, knees bumping against the bench as she folds her body to fully face me.

I don’t move an inch.

“I loved your father—still do. But I didn’t know how to be what he needed. So, I let him go, thinking that was the best I could do for him. It was a relief, honestly—to be able to do something, even if it was simply not opposing his departure.”

The pitter-patter of water, from one tier to the other in the fountain, becomes a sweet lull that keeps a semblance of peace as we navigate murky seas without a map.

“But I failed to notice how that hurt you. And I failed again when my absence allowed your grandfather to do to you what he did to me—too busy being what he made me.”

My grandfather…

As a little girl, he stole me from myself—chipping away at who I was to make room for his ideal granddaughter; teaching me to hate who I was so he could change and shape me into who I should be. The grandchild he thought he deserved.

But I wasn’t the only one, was I? Or the first.

Of course not.

I look away from the tears collecting in the corners of her rich brown eyes, drops that defy gravity, refuse to succumb to the inevitability.

All this time, I’ve judged my mother for her father’s sins. I still do.

We’re the handiwork of her father.

“I’m fine, mom.”

Finally, small wings stretch, blue with a ring of yellow. The little bird takes flight to the other side of the fountain.

Survival.

Mom’s lips lift at the corners. It isn’t a smile. It’s a false imitation. “Aren’t you always?”

I’ve spent my life believing it’s freeing to keep my emotions to myself where I can feel them without the pressure of anyone else’s eyes. But is it truly? When I’m locking them inside myself? Even now, there’s an ocean in my throat that won’t ascend to my eyes.

The fabric of her dress rustles as she drags herself closer. The brush of her finger, a tender caress on my scar, makes my eyes fall shut.

“Seeing you in that hospital bed was the worst moment of my life. But it has also brought me clarity. It has forced me to face all the things I’ve swept under the carpet.”

Her voice is closer and lower, now that the distance has been erased.

Mine is but a strangled rasp. “Mom—”

“I haven’t finished my point, darling.” My shoulders curl with a wince under her strict tone. She tips my chin with perfect French tips, demanding I listen “I’m working on acknowledging my flaws and failures—and all the factors that weighed in. I’m trying to fix my mistakes and make peace with the fact there are many things I can never right. And I’m learning how to unlearn.”

For a moment, the breeze fills the silence with gentleness against the trees, branches heavy with summer leaves and sunset sunshine.

“I can’t change the past, unfortunately, but I can do better from now on. I can try to be a better mom. If you forgive me and let me.”

For a long moment, we watch the little bird as it fills our silence, chirping happily now.

I mirror as she leans in, her embrace tight.

My smile is muffled against the linen of her white dress. “I really was the perfect daughter, huh?”

“You were. You are. You’re perfect.” A curly strand catches in her pearls as her embrace softens. She tucks it behind my ear. “The only time you gave me trouble was when you smoked marijuana and decided to cook eggs and fries at 2AM to the soundtrack of little baby sharks. Thank God it was just that once. I would’ve lost my mind if I heard that song just one more time.”

Oh, that was definitely an enlightening experience. I snort before I can control my unbecoming reactions. Mom clutches her necklace, nails clicking against the pearls as she waits, impassive, as I regain my composure.

“Look at my favorite girls having a lovefest.” A breathless voice puts an end to our stare-off. “Save some for an old man, too.”

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