Total pages in book: 66
Estimated words: 61657 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 308(@200wpm)___ 247(@250wpm)___ 206(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 61657 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 308(@200wpm)___ 247(@250wpm)___ 206(@300wpm)
Brandon had written me an email asking if everything was okay. My response was vague and noncommittal saying that I was still not well. I’d considered working remotely to help my team out, but my mother forbade it demanding I take a full rest: mind and body.
A full week went by before bringing out the envelope that contained information on my father’s whereabouts. After running out of Pictogram the day Penny sent me the video, I ran back to Theo’s to grab a few things, one of which was the private investigator’s findings of my father.
My mother sat in the kitchen sipping coffee when I emerged from my room, holding the envelope. “Good morning, sunshine!” she said greeting me with a warm hug. The sun was streaming in through the windows and lit up her auburn hair beautifully. She looked so happy. It saddened me that what I was going to tell her might change that.
“Good morning, Mom,” I said sitting down at the kitchen table to a plate of eggs, bacon, and toast. “Thanks for breakfast.” It looked delicious, but my appetite hadn’t yet completely returned.
My mom smiled and patted my hand. “Of course! I missed having you home.”
I placed the envelope on the table. My mom looked at it and said, “What’s that? Something from school?”
“I have something to tell you.” My voice trembled when I spoke.
My mom, noticing the change in my voice, put down her mug of coffee. “What is it, Mia?”
“Mom, I want you to know that I am truly grateful for everything you have done for me, for raising me on your own. I never felt like I was ever missing out on anything because I had you.”
My mom’s eyes looked bleary as I talked. “Of course, honey. I love you.”
It was difficult to get out what I wanted to say, worried she would be angry or worse, hurt. “Theo hired a private investigator to find out about my dad. That envelope has all his information.”
My mom was silent, staring at the envelope as if it were alive but dormant, and at any moment, it would jump to life. She was barely audible when she said, “I’m sorry I never told you about him.” A teardrop spattered the kitchen table.
“No, Mom! No. That’s not what this is about. I understand.” My chest ached not wanting to hurt my mother’s feelings.
She just nodded quietly in a trance, looking at the envelope. I wondered what memories of my dad flooded back to her as she stared.
Drumming my hands on the manila envelope with my name written on it in bold black letters, I said, “I didn’t want to open it without talking to you first. I don’t want to hurt you or make you think that you weren’t enough for me, because you were.” Now my own tears choked me up.
Mom wiped the tears off my cheeks with both her thumbs looking into my eyes. “You have the right to know.” Her eyes were full of sadness and regret. “Once your father left during my third month of pregnancy, I never heard from him again, but, I didn’t look.” She paused looking away into the past. “I never looked back because I had you, a baby on the way, and I had to get strong for that.”
My arms wrapped around my mother’s shoulders. “You are strong. The strongest woman I know.”
“If you want to know about your father, even meet him, I’m okay with that.” My mom squeezed me tightly. “You’re the best thing that ever happened to me, Mia. I love you.”
The yearning to know my father dissipated as I held onto my mother. Whoever my dad was, he didn't have the same love for me that my mother did or else he would have come for me. He wouldn't have let all the years pass without ever once trying to contact me or get to know me.
As I took the envelope in my hands, my mother looked at me with understanding eyes. The shredder was in the adjoining room. I headed straight for it. I had made my decision. Mom was enough for me. “I don't need to know, Mom. He has had plenty of time to find me, and he hasn't.”
My mom followed close behind me. “Are you sure? You don't have to do that.”
I turned on the shredder without any doubt in my mind. “I want to.” Watching the envelope going through the slot and turn into shreds of paper, I felt renewed, proud of myself, even.
I put my arm around my mother. “All I need is you, Mom.”
We smiled at each other and walked back to the kitchen. It felt good to get that out of the way and off my chest.
The latest issue of Vogue was on the kitchen counter. Mom wiped the last of my tears with the back of her hand, kissing me on the forehead. Then she nodded at my breakfast, “Eat,” she said and began flipping through the issue. She stopped on a Marc Janow ad of me – the one where I was standing in front of Theo's painting.