he also took you away from me, my beautiful baby girl.”
“I’m here, Mum. Do you…do you want me to move in with you?”
“Absolutely not. That will seem as if I’m asking for pity after I announced I want to focus on my career.”
I wish Mum would stop thinking about the media, the press, and her friends when she makes her decisions. I wish she’d look in the mirror — really look in the mirror — and base those decisions on not only her reflection, but also the woman on the inside.
I wish she’d stop trying to prove herself to her dead father who pushed her to be a perfectionist, or to my dead grandparents from Papa’s side who criticised her for everything. They wanted their prodigal son to marry an aristocrat’s daughter, so when he married Mum, they kind of made her life hell as revenge. Nothing was good enough in their eyes. So she took it out on Papa. It was a vicious cycle.
But I learnt to stop wishing for things when it comes to my mum. She’ll only do what she thinks is good for her image and her career.
That’s why she’s been making me slowly but surely change to fit that image.
“Okay, happy thoughts.” She shows me her red lipstick. “This one is amazing. Let me try it on you.”
“Mum —”
“Stay still.” She places her glass of wine on the counter and paints my lips, then looks at me with awe. “Look at you growing into a wonderful young lady. You’re my pride, Silver. It’s because of you that I survive this rotten, man-infested world.”
“Then please answer my calls next time.” I’m still high off the adrenaline, slightly trembling from thinking I’d lost her.
“I will. Now, happy thoughts.” She smiles, and it’s radiant. It’s the reason her snobbish friends are jealous of her – because she’s the most beautiful amongst them all. She’s the one who attracts attention and gets invited to radio and talk shows.
“I got a perfect score in maths.”
“I’m so proud of you.” She strokes my cheek and I lean into her touch, fighting the tears that are about to break free.
I would do anything to keep that expression on her face, so I say, “I…I got engaged to Aiden King.”
“Really? Jonathan’s son?”
I nod, and for the first time since yesterday, it doesn’t feel like the most horrible decision I’ve ever made.
“Look at you, Babydoll, scoring so high when you’re so young.” She sighs dreamily. “You’re the best thing that I got out of that bastard Sebastian.”
I wince. Sometimes, I think Mum forgets he’s my father and that she shouldn’t project her hatred for him on me.
Both of them do it, actually, but Papa is more passive-aggressive about it. Mum is too direct.
Since their divorce, I feel like I age three years for every year. The only things I care about are making Mum happy enough so her mind won’t lead her in the other direction and spending time with Papa in an attempt to reduce his loneliness.
When it gets too much, like too much, I go to the park and cry. In those dark moments, I wish they would never have given birth to me, or I imagine how my life would’ve been if I had whole parents like Ronan’s or Kimberly’s.
Every one of those times, Cole has found me in that park. It’s like he hunts me down just so he can catch me crying.
He sits beside me in silence, mostly reading from a book, and that’s enough to make me stop crying.
It’s enough for my tears to turn to hiccoughs before they eventually disappear.
I hate that he has the ability to calm me down by his presence alone, but I keep my mouth shut about it. I’ve accepted it because we share secrets. He knows something about me no one else does and vice versa.
So his betrayal yesterday stung more than I like to admit. It cut me open and is still refusing to be sewn back together.
I might have hurt him back in the only way I knew how, but unlike what I thought, it doesn’t make me happy.
Not in the least.
If anything, it smashes a heavier weight on my chest.
“Come on, Mum. Go shower. You have to be in that radio studio today, remember?” And yes, I have both my parents’ calendars on my phone. I’m that desperate to be the breeze that makes their lives easier, not harder.