Page 46 of A Sixpence For Your Shoe

“What?” I ask, confused and knotting my own brows as I pull some fresh veggies from one of the shopping bags.

“You’re in love.” She says out of the blue.

“What?” I stammer, “Don’t be silly. Why in the world would?—”

“You are. I can see it. Don’t even try to deny it.” She laughs. “Who is he? Tell me everything.”

I shake my head, but the smile on my face confirms everything. “And here I thought I could hide it from you.” I laugh.

“Pfft.” She huffs, pulling the fridge door open to pack things away. “You better start talking while I make the lunch.”

And so, I tell my mom that I’m in love with a good man. A generous, kindhearted, gentle man. A man who wants to take care of me and who makes me smile. A man who is one in a million.

I don’t tell her his name or that he is almost double my age. I don’t tell her he is from the mafia and that he is the one who I work for.

“But - I’m scared to tell him I love him.” I shrug, chewing nervously on my lip.

“Misha - you can’t do what I did.” She sighs softly, her eyes lowering and her thoughts churning. I can see the strain in her expression.

“What do you mean, mom?” I ask nervously.

“I mean - you can’t hate all men. I’ve taught you that from such a young age - that all men are monsters. It’s not true. There are good men out there I just didn’t find them and - you deserve to. You deserve a good man who loves you and wants to look after you. Don’t be afraid of it if you’ve truly found him. Don’t listen to your old mom, sweetheart. Love is real. And good men do exist.”

I stare at my mom for a long time. I’ve never heard her say anything even close to this. She hates men. She’s only had warnings and threats for me when it came to talking about men. I don’t know this side of her.

She notices my strained expression and laughs at me.

“Do you want to know something crazy?” Her eyes are distant and dreamy.

I scrunch my nose. “I don’t know,do I?” I ask.

She shrugs, not looking at me. “The man I knew before I met your father?—”

“The murderous fucking monster of an asshole?”

She nods.

“I still love him.”

“What the fuck?” I stammer.

She laughs, shaking her head. “I told you it was crazy.”

“Mom, that’s enough for me to think you should be put into a psychiatric ward,” I laugh. “I don’t understand, and you better explain.”

While my mom is making stir-fry, she explains. “I knew from the start that he wasn’t a good man, but he was good to me. He made me feel more alive, more wanted, and more adored than I had ever felt in my entire life. He made me feel like I could own the entire world just because he loved me. I will never forget that. And in a stupid, dark way - a very dark way - I know why he wanted to kill me. Because we couldn’t be together, and I never wanted to imagine him with someone else - and I know hefelt the same way. He loved me that he would rather I be dead than with anyone but him.” She speaks as though she’s lost in a dream, and I listen in horror to her words.

When she falls silent, quietly chopping the veggies into thin slices, I interrupt her thoughts.

“Mom, that’s really fucked up.”

She looks up at me and our eyes lock. Both of our expressions are serious.

For a long time, we are frozen, looking at each other.

Then we burst out laughing.

We laugh so hard we have tears streaming down our cheeks and we can hardly breathe.

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