Page 93 of Indigo

“How?” Is all I get out, my voice hoarse.

She peers at me from over her shoulder, a beautiful smile spread across her lips, but she remains silent.

“Mum,” I croak again. “How are you here? You… you died. I saw you.”

She nods while still facing away from me, pouring the coffee into our favourite mugs. “I did.”

Her admission causes a shooting pain to run through my chest.

This is a dream.

I scrunch my face, close my eyes, and feel more tears trickle down my cheeks. “No.”

Opening my eyes, I see her shake her head, grab the mugs, and spin around to face me. She shrugs, walks over to me, and holds out the coffee for me to take. “I’m not allowed to visit?” she teases, lifting her cup to her lips and sighing dreamily as she inhales the smell of freshly brewed coffee.

Turning her focus back to me, she exhales loudly and places her mug down on the counter behind her. “I hate you being this upset,” she whispers, her eyes turning glassy. “I’m right here.” She holds out her arms as if to show me.

I shake my head, my body trembling so severely that my teeth chatter. “You’re not. This is a dream. You’re gone.”

She gives me a watery smile, comes closer, and cups my face.

I gasp as I feel her skin against mine.

“I’m right here. Always. You can’t carry on like this, sweetheart. You’re making yourself sick,” she says, using her thumbs to wipe the moisture from my cheeks.

Pushing my cheek into her palm, I close my eyes and whisper, “This is a dream.”

“Indigo. Look at me.”

I gulp, and slowly peer up at her, knowing this is the last time I’ll ever have the chance to do so.

“I miss you,” I whisper. “I don’t know how to do this without you. I don’t know how to…”

Her grip on my face tightens. “I will always, always be here. You may not see me, but I am. Do you understand me?”

“It’s not the same,” I choke out, placing my mug next to hers.

“No. It’s not. But it’s what we’ve got now.”

A sob escapes me. I don’t want to accept that the only time I’ll ever see her again is when I’m asleep. Even worse, that one day I won’t remember how her hands feel, how she smells, or the sound of her voice. I’ll forget it all and then I won’t even be able to see her in my dreams. She’ll be gone, in every sense of the word.

“You are so brave, my girl. So strong. You’rehome. You have so many people around you that love you and want to take care of you. Let them.Please.” Her tone is almost begging, and her bottom lip trembles to match mine.

I can’t speak, my throat rough and raw, my body shaking, but I nod, trying to make her smile again, because if this is the last time I see her, I don’t want her to be sad.

“Good,” she says, releasing my face and wiping her own stray tears. “Now drink your coffee and tell me what’s going on with you and Pax.” Through my heartbreak, I manage to laugh, really laugh, because it’s so like my mother to visit me from the grave and ask about my love life. “You’ve been shutting him out, Indie-girl. Why?”

“Because it’s a hell of a lot easier than loving him,” I admit, and then lower my voice. “Every time I look at him, I feel, and that hurts. Feelinganythinghurts.”

“Oh, sweetheart,” she says as she wraps me in her arms.

“I’m so sorry.” My body trembles against hers as I choke out the words.

She pulls me back, a hand on each arm, and a mystified expression on her face. “Sorry? For what?”

“If I had just gone out of my own way and come for a walk with you, you’d be here. I could have saved you. If someone was there with you. If I had just–”

“Now listen here,” she says, making me look her in the eye. “Nothing you could have done would have changed my outcome, Indigo. It was my time. Leaving you–” Her voice breaks, and she takes a deep breath before continuing. “Leaving you was the hardest thing I’ve ever done. It was my time. Tell me you know that.”

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