Page 202 of Vampires of Eden
To my astonishment, her eyes are pleading and… sad? Definitely not an expression I’m accustomed to seeing.
“Lamento haberte golpeado, ¿sí? ¡Deja de ser tan indiferente conmigo! ¿Cuántas veces te he llamado y no contestas?”
A stiff silence hangs in the air as we all stare at her. I’m shocked by her apology, but I’m annoyed that she’s suddenly speaking Spanish when she knows Father can’t. Daniel understands fluently, but she doesn’t know that. It’s fucking rude.
“Victoria, we talked about this.” My Father’s voice is solemn beside her.
Mother visibly bristles and rolls her eyes. Reluctantly, she half-heartedly translates her own words for him. “I apologized—I said I’m sorry that I hit him.” She lifts her gaze to focus on me. “How many times have I called you and you don't answer? How can you be so cold and indifferent?”
“You apologize for hitting me, then immediatelyfollow that up with, ‘Why are you being so mean to me?’ It’s always about you, isn’t it?”
“Alejandro—”
“Everything is always about howyoufeel. You apologized once. Congratulations. But I’ve been apologizing to you my whole life! Any choice I’ve made that you disagreed with, I’ve had to apologize for it and I’msickof it. Why do I have to be held responsible for your feelings all the time? Your disappointment, your confusion, your pride and reputation. Why is it that my feelings don’t matter to you at all?”
She stands, gawking at me, speechless.
“You still don’t get it,” I go on. “You’re either apologizing because Father told you to—or becauseyoufeel bad, not because you care about and are genuinely remorseful toward me.”
“I do care about you!” she says, finding her voice and stepping forward. “Of course I care about you—you’re my only child and I brought you into this world.”
“Okay, then instead of trying to make me feel guilty because I disagree with your opinions, why not celebrate the choices I’ve made that give me joy? Why can’t you just be happy that I’m happy?”
My mother stops again, blinking. She looks back toward my father and his expression is opaque. When she whips her head toward me and Daniel, she takes a visible breath and smooths her hair so that it’s elegantly draped behind her shoulders. “I didn’t ask you to come back here to fight with you. I just wanted to… I wanted to ask some questions. Obviously, now isn’t a good time.”
“Right,” I say, turning and meeting Danny’s eyes. “Let’s go.” He nods and follows me toward the door.
“I’m not perfect,” my mother calls out as I take hold of the handle. I pause and look over my shoulder as she goes on. “I… I am remorseful for what I did, and what I said. I am. Your Father has explained many things to me and I’m listening, okay? But I can’t—I’ll never be some perfect cheerleader of a mother, Alexander.”
“Of course you won’t,” I say, taking hold of Danny’s hand. “I’m not asking you to be any of those things. I’m asking you to think aboutmyfeelings sometimes, instead of constantly projecting your own. I don’t want your feelings to be my burden anymore.”
The room is silent as me and Danny leave, closing the door behind us.
He squeezes my palm. “That was… not too terrible.”
I huff, cynical. “Wasn’t it?”
“It was progress. The two of you have to start somewhere—and at least everything has been laid out on the table. As a fellow recovering asshole, I know that these things take time.”
Smiling, I dip and kiss the space beneath his ear. I don’t feel particularly good about that conversation with my mother, but when has Danny ever been wrong?
“Will you dance with me?” I ask, wanting to change the subject and lighten the mood. “We’ve never danced together before.”
Danny glances at me from the corners of his pale eyes. Sexy and playful and reminding me of twilight clouds in autumn. My perpetual autumn solstice.
“I’d love to.”
Epilogue
One year later.
Daniel
I’m planting strawberries today.
Officially, I know way more about strawberries than I ever thought possible.
Firstly, there are four kinds—alpine, June-bearing, everbearing and day-neutral. After much research and consideration, I’ve decided on Quinault strawberries, which are an everbearing variety (this also means they consistently produce fruit throughout the spring and summer instead of just one harvest, but let’s not get too deeply into the weeds).
