Elena’s stomach turned. “It’s been three days.”
Margaret closed the door. The sound of the latch was a period at the end of a sentence.
She knelt.
The first time Elena saw her father cry, she was thirty-seven years old, and the tears fell not into his hands, but onto the polished lid of a cherrywood coffin.
Margaret looked up. Her face was wrecked. “I don’t deserve that.”
Her father, Richard, sat in his recliner—the one Leo had bought him last Christmas, with the massage function and the cup holder. He was staring at the wall.
“And you wanted a mother who didn’t exist.” Margaret’s voice dropped. “I am sorry. Not for wanting what I wanted. But for the fact that I couldn’t want you instead.”
“Because Leo loved you.” Elena’s voice finally broke. “And because he asked me, six months ago, to promise him something.”
“Then why are you here?” Margaret whispered.
Elena stood there for a long moment. Then she did something that surprised them both.
Don’t make it worse. The family motto. The reason Elena had swallowed every sharp word, every sideways glance, every Christmas when Leo received a new laptop and she received a gift card to a grocery store. Don’t make it worse. Keep the peace. Leo needs a quiet environment for his studies. Your father is tired. Your mother has a headache.
“I need you to listen,” Margaret began, “before you interrupt.”
Elena’s stomach turned. “It’s been three days.”
Margaret closed the door. The sound of the latch was a period at the end of a sentence.
She knelt.
The first time Elena saw her father cry, she was thirty-seven years old, and the tears fell not into his hands, but onto the polished lid of a cherrywood coffin.
Margaret looked up. Her face was wrecked. “I don’t deserve that.”
Her father, Richard, sat in his recliner—the one Leo had bought him last Christmas, with the massage function and the cup holder. He was staring at the wall.
“And you wanted a mother who didn’t exist.” Margaret’s voice dropped. “I am sorry. Not for wanting what I wanted. But for the fact that I couldn’t want you instead.”
“Because Leo loved you.” Elena’s voice finally broke. “And because he asked me, six months ago, to promise him something.”
“Then why are you here?” Margaret whispered.
Elena stood there for a long moment. Then she did something that surprised them both.
Don’t make it worse. The family motto. The reason Elena had swallowed every sharp word, every sideways glance, every Christmas when Leo received a new laptop and she received a gift card to a grocery store. Don’t make it worse. Keep the peace. Leo needs a quiet environment for his studies. Your father is tired. Your mother has a headache.
“I need you to listen,” Margaret began, “before you interrupt.”