Spring Between Two Winters

Hello! This is yet another novel that I have created… Unfortunately, I haven’t finished my first written work, Alliance of War, but I’ll try to soon.

Here you go.. straight from the document::

Spring Between Two Winters

Manuscript Version 1.0

Author: Stephen Velez

Date Started: June 28, 2008, 9:05 PM

Date Finished: -,-,-, -:– -M

Dedicated to:

Joanne Pabalan

Natassia Austria

Balbino Santos

Roman Aquino

Ruth Madrid

Celina Penaflorida

Ida Mendoza

Patrick Monfort

Gil Caparas

Lorraine Mangulabnan

And everyone else from 3-SDS of Elizabeth Seton School, Las Pinas City, Manila, Philippines School Year 2008-2009.

Chamberwinds members.

Also to my batchmates and teachers. Go Juniors!

My beloved family.

Spring Between Two Winters

Stephen Velez

Goodbye

…Until we meet again.

It was dawn. I’m wide awake, waiting for the alarm clock to ring. Lying down on my bed, I looked at the sky, about to be filled with the sun’s bright light. 10 seconds and counting… 5…4…3…2…1…

RING!

The alarm clock rang and I immediately pressed the snooze button. I rose from bed and immediately took my body towel and headed for the bathroom. I was too excited for the first day of school.

After bathing, I clothed myself with the school’s new uniform design. It was pearly white with black lines along the edges. It somewhat carved my body. The skirt, which reaches the top of my knees, has the same features as that of my polo shirt. I wore my black tie with our school’s logo, took my bag and headed off to the dining room.

At the dining room, I found my mom preparing the table, my lunch money on the counter, and my jug removed from the refrigerator. I took everything I needed, kept my lunch money, and sat on the chair near the ‘fridge to start eating my breakfast. My mom looked back at me, with eyes worn out from work.

My mom works late at night, from 5 o’ clock in the afternoon until 3 o’ clock in the morning. She was a pharmacist on night shift and worked at the hospital nearby. She also taught those that are taking up Pharmacy in college, only as a part-time. She’s a proud liberal woman. She is somewhat similar to Generals in the military. She’s very strict with policies and she never shows any hint of soft heartedness. She hates to love but loves to hate. She cared for me, with the daily needs. She fed me, changed my diapers, and taught me how to read, write, and speak. That’s generally what we did together. We never hang out. Not even a conversation. Not a word, except when I did something wrong.

My dad works early in the morning. He leaves at 4 o’ clock in the morning and returns home at 3 o’ clock in the afternoon. He’s a brain surgeon, working for the day shift. He’s a kind and thoughtful guy. I like him more than my mom. I know it’s bad to have favouritism when it comes to people, but hey, my dad is a lot loving than my mom. He always welcomes me home with loving arms. He always stops and listens to what I have to say. So I pretty much love him more than my mom.

My parents only have 4 hours in total to talk with each other, but usually, those hours were spent either in preparing for one’s work, or resting after a day of hard work. Yeah, I pretty much have a family that only meets for four hours. Though for me, I only meet one of them during the day, another during the night. I never get to meet them, except on weekends, where I can be with the both of them for at least four hours. However, those four hours are usually spent for my assignments and them doing things work-related.

After eating breakfast, I said goodbye to my mother, who replied with a nod, and headed off for school.

School for me is my home. It is where I feel loved. I feel being one with every classmate and teacher. I never felt unhappy in school. I always get good grades, even if I just guess the answers. I guess that I’m good with guessing. I have a large group of friends. Each of my friends are very loving to me and they care about me. They are always concerned about me, much like how I am to them.

I always am happy with school. I always felt at peace here, even if schoolwork is spammed on to me. I excel in our music class – I play the violin. I also excel in Sciences and Maths. I don’t like studying the languages much, but I enjoy studying literature.

Ophelia is my best friend since childhood. I remember one day, we were at my place and we both cut ourselves with my dad’s razor used for shaving. We pressed our fingers first to let the blood flow out, and we both connected our cut fingers and let our blood flow into each other’s body.

“We’ll be friends forever!” we said.

She is my classmate again, as I start my third year in high school. We sat together so that we could become seatmates for the first semester.

I had lunch with all of my friends that day. We caught up with new things that happened to us. Most of them went abroad, so they didn’t have time to connect to the internet or call us through cell phone – it will be too expensive. I had baby back ribs served with java rice and barbecue sauce. It was the best dish our canteen serves.

Imagine how I enjoyed school that day. It was very fun being with my friends again.

Teachers were one of the things I’ve been looking forward to this school year, since teachers in the higher levels in high school are said to be good. Some of them were fun, some of them were downright strict. I couldn’t possibly understand why they’re like that. Who cares anyway? As long as I’m having fun, there’s no need to bother.

As I was thinking about what happened in school today, I walked back home. It was a short distance away. There was no need for a tricycle ride. I opened our front door and anticipated my father’s voice welcoming me with a hug and a kiss on the cheek… but it didn’t come. I wondered if my father went overtime again. My cell phone rang the moment I placed my bag on the bay window. I received a text message.

“Go to the hospital immediately” it said. It was from mom. It was very new to me, since my mom hated using her cell phone. She never even wanted to write. She hated to write but she preferred to read.

I immediately left home, thinking that it was urgent. Locking the front and back door and closing the windows, I hailed a taxi and asked the driver to take me to the Holy Trinity Hospital. I arrived there at exactly 6:30 in the evening, since 5:00 is my dismissal time from school. I got into an elevator and pressed the number 15, the floor where my mom’s office is.

When the elevator doors opened, I stepped out and headed to the right. I looked at the door and it said that the doctor is out. There was a note attached to it, and it said to proceed to the Emergency Room at the third floor.

Frustrated, I got into another elevator and went to the third floor. I went to the right, then left, then right again. There it was, the glowing red text of “EMERGENCY ROOM”. The benches on the side of the walls had one person seating on them.

“What’s the problem, Mom?” I asked her with great curiosity.

“You’re father is dead,” she said without hesitation… not even a pause.

I stared back at her in horror. She stared back at me with complete seriousness. She meant what she said. The doctors and surgeons in the E.R. exited through the door and allowed us to go inside.

There my father lay. He was pale, as pale as death. Long transparent tubes connected to him on the arms, legs, chest and some parts of his face. He laid there, with no movement. He had no expression on his face. He simply laid there.

My tears flowed from my eyes. It was hard for me to take it in. My father always was dear to me. He is the acting parent to me. It was hard to accept but it’s the way life is. Like a wheel that turns, sometimes it misses you, sometimes it crushes you. At times life gives at times it takes away. And each day you wake up and breathe and live is but another day’s reprieve of death.

My father is buried the next two days. The funeral was planned by my mom, without me knowing. The coffin he was in is in royal blue, his favourite colour. We all wore royal blue. It was a long and sorrowful ceremony. My mom couldn’t take her sorrow in. She cried and cried. The first time I ever saw her cry.

After the funeral, my mom stood near my father’s tombstone. Everyone left, except for us. It is about to be evening. I wanted to go home and rest, but I can’t leave my mother behind.

“Mama,” I called. She did not respond.

“Mama,” I repeated. She still did not respond.

“Ma-,” I said, but I was cut off with her harsh, cold, tearful reply:

“No, Claire, I am not your mother.”

Memories

…is where the truth lies.

I remember when I was in my first year in high school, that everyone always admired how I looked and everyone is jealous of my family. Everyone thought that I was a daughter of a person with a high seat in society. Oh how I wanted them to know that I am not someone like what they think I am. I am just a normal person. A person who goes to chill spots, wears flip flops, listens to hip hop, and all that jazz. I am not any more special than that.

“Claire doesn’t need any make up, she’s good as she is.”

My friend, Ophelia, said this. Everyone agrees with what she says. She seems to see the truth in everything. She enjoys all the pleasurable things. She’s great in analyzing a person, but not a critical thinker. She is also someone normal, but she is extremely talented when it comes to dancing and singing. She gets everything right.

Probably, I really don’t need any make up to cover my face. I haven’t even tried putting them on. I always thought that I looked best without anything on my face. All I did was wash my face. I really don’t like catching people’s attention. Every time I enter the classroom, everyone moves their head to look with the reaction of “Wonder-how-she-looks-like-now” written all over their faces. All my classmates said that I should wear make up. It will definitely make me look better. That night, I decided to try it. I placed some make up on myself, lipstick here, blush-on there. Voila! There I was, sitting in front of the mirror in my dressing room. I looked very strange. I didn’t recognize myself. I removed my make up and went to bed.

And that is how I started wearing make up.

In grade school, I was praised for my grades. “Good looks and brains!” my teachers always say. All I could do is thank them, since my parents say that it is rude to make someone eat their compliment. I really had low self-esteem before. I felt different from everyone. I don’t know why.

There was a time when everyone was supposed to bring their parents with them for career day. Everyone brought theirs, except me. My parents are working by that time. Classes start at 9 and end at 3. Only the maids are left at home. My teacher, friends and other classmates asked where were my parents. I told them that they’re at work – that they can’t make it. The day ended with everyone’s parents speaking in front, telling the teachers how proud they are of their child.

Whenever I try to join in with anything that my parents are doing – talking, hugging, watching, anything – my mother always frowns. She never enjoyed my company. She always disliked whenever we are in the same room. My father always cheered me up. I think he knows this. He always come running to me and carries me. He then takes me to the kitchen to fetch me some ice cream.

I always wondered why. I never did anything to mom. In fact, we never did anything. She simply frowns and the mood in the atmosphere changes. She talks to me like a soldier. My teachers are even more comforting. I tried asking my father, but the answer never came to me.

When I turned 13, the house seemed a lot more different. It was like everyone has a secret not be told. The maids are always asked to be quiet about everything my parents tell them. I tried bargaining them, but they never gave in.

Since then, I knew that there were secrets in the house. I tried investigating through the different processes I learned in school. It took me about 10 months, but there was no luck. I never found out anything – just that we had a basement.

When I graduated grade school, my parents attended the ceremony; glad that all their hard work came to pay them back. I was happy seeing them happy for me. It was the first time my mother ever did.

My mother always stared back at me as if I was her prey. She is a hawk, I was the chicken. There aren’t any interactions, just gestures. This really bothered me, since most of the stories I have read that talks about mothers, makes my mom seem to be a wicked witch. All prototypic mothers are a lot more like my adviser in school. My mom never does such a thing. Never in my life have I felt loved by her.

There was this emptiness inside of me. I was longing for something. I don’t know what. It’s just there. I cannot identify what it is. I told Ophelia about this, and she said that maybe I’m just craving for something sweet, so she gave me a bar of chocolate the next day.

There are also times when I feel awkward with my parents. They just seem like they’re my neighbours. They weren’t like parents. I always feel confused about it. Whenever we hug, I always feel like it’s not them. Their hug is too cold. It was as if we met for the first time. I never knew anything of them. Do I?

In high school, it was harder to deal with it everyday. Having all those schoolwork, and still having this problem, all I’m waiting for is a heart attack. I can’t focus on my schoolwork, since my parents always seem a bit strange. They said comforting words in times, but I never really felt that something special.

When I reached my third year high school, my father died. It was the first time I saw my mother cry. She wept and wept with no hesitation. She was in agony. I cried, too. But I didn’t cry for too long. This bothered me.

When the funeral ended, my mother stood near my father’s tombstone. Everyone already left, except for the two of us. It was already getting dark, and I have to go home for schoolwork. I tried to call her attention, but she did not respond. I did it again, but it seems more like she didn’t hear it.

When she responded, it struck me. It was cold. It made me shiver. It made me dive into a pool of questions. It was a lot more horrifying than any horror movie I ever saw. Whatever does she mean?

“I think that it is time you learned the truth,” she continued.

Truth
…is always painful

To be told a secret that someone has kept from you for a long time always feels so good. It seems like the person came to trust you – that the person is comfortable with you. It always makes a friend feel special and important.

I remember making friends with Diana before. She was one of the smartest people of our batch. Ophelia and I thought that it would be nice to be friends with someone who is that smart. We were in grade three back then.

We all hang out together in school. We ate our food together, answered our homework, did our research, read books in the library – everything you could think of that three third grade-schoolers could ever do. It was fun being with her. We thought our threesome would be the happiest of all those in our batch.

My mother’s secret, however did not feel like it. It was something more complicated than my third grade memory. It was a form of betrayal – a dark fantasy. Upon hearing it, I would rather escape reality and live in my own fantasy-reality. I wanted to run away.

“I and your father, were lovers since our childhood.” She said, with her tear swept face and shivering voice.

“Of course, we never realized it back then. We only thought that we were friends – very close friends. We did all of our homework together, we ate our food together, we played together – everything you could ever think of children doing. We always felt bliss when we were with each other. We always love to play pranks at elders before. Once we did a prank on Mrs. McCluckers, our neighbour. Her house was weird compared to the other houses in the neighbourhood. She had a statue of Hera in her front yard. It seems that she admired it too much; she always polished it everyday at four o’ clock in the afternoon. It was our dismissal time. We were enrolled in the afternoon class.

“One afternoon, Edward and I decided to do a prank on Mrs. McCluckers. We thought of drawing on the statue of Hera. Fortunately, Mrs. McCluckers went to the market – she seems to have polished the statue earlier. So we took some markers at Edward’s home and we hurriedly went to Mrs. McCluckers’ garden. We drew a beard on it, Edward some circles on her chest and some smaller ones inside it and a long straight oblong above two ovals on the statue’s privates– I didn’t know what that meant at first, but when we remembered doing that when we were in high school, I learned that Edward was a pervert since then. We also drew glasses and some wavy lines on her brows. Finally, when we were contented, we ran back to Edward’s place. Mrs. McCluckers was so angry. Fortunately, she doesn’t know who did it. It was a good thing, though that her polish got the drawings off. It would have been very embarrassing to have them.”

“When we were adolescents, we started attracting each other. He always stared at me, my legs and my jewels – if you know what I mean. I stared back at him, though only at his face. We stared at each other for longer than we could have counted. He always walked me home and fetches me to school. We never had a chance to be separated, since we were always classmates, we were always grouped together in groupings, we had our lunch together, and we did our research and homework together. It was when Maricel asked me if we were dating, had it stopped. It stopped, because before I could answer, Edward headed straight at me and blurted out loud: Do you mind if I date you? We started dating then. We never broke up, not even after graduation.”

“During our graduation, I didn’t only graduate from high school, but I also graduated from a lady to a woman. I lost my virginity. We seem to have drank so much back then that when he dropped me off at home, we started to get right into it. It was the best time of my life. We lost our virginity together.”

“When we got into college, I got pregnant. Edward disclaimed it as his. I was angry at him for that. He clearly is the father, since we do it every time we went home. I barely had the time to be with someone else because of that. Sometimes we did it twice, sometimes even five times – depends on how horny he is. I always fall for the words he said. Running with anger, I fell down the stairs and my baby vanished. He was the first one to go to the hospital, since no one knew of it. It was good that nobody contacted my parents, else I wouldn’t be here now. Seeing him there made me happy, but sad since the fruit of our love had vanished.”

“When we graduated college and got married, we decided to have a child. We tried all that we can muster – but there was no luck. We consulted a doctor, and the results show that I can no longer be impregnated. Our hearts broke upon seeing the results. We went home crying our eyes out.”

She paused then cried. I had nothing to say. I didn’t know that they were so irresponsible. It made me get so irritated. Where was this going? What is this for? I don’t know whether to comfort her at scold at her. I then remembered that she was unable to have a child. The very thought of it held my heart tight. I asked her with a stuttering voice, trying to not think of the worst. So what does this have to do with me?

Diana invited me to lunch back then at her home. She said she wanted to tell me and Ophelia a secret. It made me feel very excited to come over her place for the secret. Ophelia and I went there with no hesitation. Over lunch, we discussed everything – school, our teachers, our crushes and all that. It was when Ophelia popped the question.

“So… how about that little secret, Diana?” she said with a look of longing on her face.

“Oh… do you want to hear it now?” Diana replied.

“Of course, we do!” I said with excitement.

“Okay then…” Diana said with hesitation.

The words she said had hurt Ophelia immediately. She cried on her seat. I dropped my spoon and tried to understand every word she said.

“Do you mind saying that again?” I asked, not believing my ears.

“Are you sure?” Diana replied back. I merely nodded.

“I never wanted to be friends with you. You make me sick.”

Her next few words were very the same with what my mother told me after wiping her tears.

“You just happen to come along.”

I cried.

Serendipity

…could be the discovery you will always regret.

One can never be too contented. There is always that feeling of longing that never vanishes. Every time you learn something, your curiosity strikes you. It is the time when questions pop up. What does it do? How does it work? Why is it so?

There are chances, however, that doesn’t make you eager to know but rather a certain feeling that you wish to escape the inevitable.

It was a very beautiful day in Serendipity Homes, the start of classes for students, children and teenagers alike. Every single child in the village left their own homes with excitement especially me.

As I was walking down the sidewalk, I happen to pass by the house of a previous friend of mine, Diana. We had good times together but she was plain mean. I didn’t really know what I did to her that made her be so cruel. I remember that afternoon, when Ophelia and I were invited for tea. She said she wanted to tell a secret – something she must tell. The secret, however, was not worth the time. She made a big fuss over all of the servings of crumbling and tea when she would just ask us to leave the house.

“Oh, stop crying, Ophelia! You’re dirtying the doilies – and the ones with my picture on too!” she said after saying those terrible words. I didn’t wait for her invitation, so I stood up and grabbed Ophelia by the arm and headed off to the door. Diana was there with her face painted with shock.

Yes, that was the last time I ever spoke to her. Now, Diana is one of those slutty cheerleaders – her intelligence seem to have left her.

Walking on, I looked forward to the first day of school.

When I went back home, something unexpected came up. I could have wished for anything but what was happening to alter the usual routines I go through every single school day. I immediately rushed to the hospital – learning about my father’s death.

On his funeral, my mother decided to tell me the truth. We had a long conversation with her not looking at me but at the tomb of my father. His tombstone seems to be crying with my mother because of the sun’s light. It was already late in the afternoon.

“You were the daughter of the friend of your father.” Bella said.

I looked up at her with my tears flowing endlessly from my eyes. I desperately tried to stop them, wiping them off constantly.

“Your father and I were desperate for a child. We wanted our love to bear fruit. However, my impotency became the factor that ended our dream.”

“Time moved on, and we all did our job, I as a pharmacist and he was a brain surgeon. One day, my sister, Marybeth, got married to Jordan. They were very much in love. Their wedding was the talk of the town. In the wedding, Marybeth invited all of her friends. That is where we met Isolde and Theresa. A few years later, they had a son, Jacob. After a year, they gave birth to Jonathan.”

My mother gave a heavy sigh then continued on.

“Unfortunately, there was a fire in their house. Marybeth and Jordan were unable to wake up during that evening. The firemen went frantic. Jonathan and Jacob were crying their lungs out – but they do not have strong lungs. They inhaled the smoke and later on perished. Marybeth and Jordan died soon after due to the injuries they received from the fire and the sorrow that penetrated them in an instant.”

My mother wept. She dried her eyes then continued on – the sun now setting.

“At their funeral, everything was in gold and silver – the titles they have never garnered. Jacob and Jonathan were buried first, then Marybeth and Jordan. There weren’t any space in the cemetery that could accommodate a family, so we had to bury all four of them separately. Isolde was there too, she was the one who arranged everything. I hated her for that. She never asked me about it. She did everything according to her without even thinking about Marybeth’s only living relative. Edward and I didn’t want to cause a ruckus, so we just followed her without hesitation. I held a grudge against her. I sometimes did unnecessary things, just to tell her that I should have planned the funeral. Edward, as usual, tried to calm me down. Theresa was there, too. She helped with the food – she owned a catering service. Her I liked. She was kind and pleasant. She knows her place. I thought I heard her say to Isolde that she should have left the planning to me.”

“After the funeral, our lives returned to normal. I returned to the pharmacy and Edward returned to the hospital. Theresa and Isolde frequently visit us, sometimes to check on how we’re doing, sometimes to chat and to reminisce Marybeth and her family. I didn’t like Isolde visiting, since she hadn’t admitted her fault against me. The very image of her makes me hurl. I always wanted Theresa to visit more frequently, but since she has a business to maintain, a family to support, and a college to pay for – she was studying nursing, about to graduate, I think – she hadn’t had much time to do so. Isolde, however, visits almost everyday, it really annoys me. At first, I thought the main agenda of the visits were – as I’ve said – to chat, to reminisce, or to check on us. One afternoon, I learned everything.”

“I was going to visit Edward in the hospital for his birthday – I wanted to surprise him. As I was getting off the elevator, I thought I saw Isolde get on the other one in front of the elevator I was on. She looks frustrated over something. I don’t think she saw me since she was shovelling her purse for a comb. I thought something came up that got her off the edge. I felt a sting of happiness but got cut short once I saw where she came from – the only open door to the left, my husband’s office. The door was then shut. I went there, my footsteps getting faster than usual. My heart was beating fast. I had a sudden rush of mixed reactions. The very thought of Isolde’s messy hair and her untidy, messed-up dress. I held the door knob tight and opened the door… and there it was. The very moment that broke the fast beating of my heart – and started the hard and slow beating. My hands were shaking. My mouth dropped open then I closed it with my left hand. Edward simply looked back at me, his tie ridiculously hanging on his collar. His long sleeves untidy, his polo completely messed. His belt was unbuckled, his pants falling… He held a leg up… a woman’s leg. I did not know whose. I walked slowly towards the scene. The woman’s face was covered by her skirt. My husband was very close to her.”

“I…I could explain… was all Edward said.”

“I didn’t bother listening. I have decided to uncover the face that was lying down the table of my husband’s office. I held her skirt – she was gripping it too. I forced the skirt out of her hands and uncovered her. There she was, the woman that I have thought to be the woman that knows reason. The woman that is responsible. Your father had an affair with Theresa.”

“Bella, I could explain! Edward shouted.”

“I didn’t listen to him, I stared at the crying woman who was uttering: I’m sorry, Bella, I’m very sorry! She covered her face in shame. Anger was definitely reflected upon my eyes. Edward moved away and tried to get a hold of me.”

“Don’t touch me! I said.”

“Never do!”

“Bella, I could, explain!”

“There is no need to! I could clearly see what you have been doing! All of those overtime work you were doing! You were doing it with her!”

“I am definitely not! I wasn’t doing anything! This was our first time!”

“So you already did it with Isolde! She visits every single day! I can always see her name on the visiting log! What was she doing here? Enjoying you? Devouring you? What ever happened to the vows you promised me?”

“Edward remained silent. He looks completely guilty. Theresa wept and wept knowing her fault. I forgave her since she looks like she didn’t know about the affair that Edward and Isolde shared.”

My mother stopped talking. She was trembling in anger. Her teary eyes shake. She was still angry about all of this. I can see it. I can see it clearly painted on her face. She was crying over the anger she had with her beloved.

“Edward and I decided to leave that place. I saw that Edward was very sorry for what he did. I forgave him, but I did not forget it. We moved here, to Serendipity Homes leaving the past behind. We never saw Theresa and Isolde ever again.”

“We found a job in the Holy Trinity Hospital. That was where we worked. We worked to be able to buy new furniture – I have lost trust in Edward with all the furniture we had before. I had a stupid thought that in every corner of the house, he did it with Theresa and Isolde.”

“One day, your father started to work overtime again. He said it was for our insurance and for our home. I panicked. I didn’t trust him with it. We argued about it and it all ended with me allowing him to work overtime. Your father has a way with words. He can sweep anyone with his persuasive words. I talked to a friend about it. She said that I should trust my husband. So I did. However, she said something more. She said that I should trust… but verify. A man who has committed adultery couldn’t possibly move out of it completely. He will do it gradually. So I did verify.”

“I went to his office one night without him knowing. I was scared to do this at first but I had dedication. I am a woman of her word. I will do what I have said and promised. I crept into the floor of his office and took a peep at his office door. He wasn’t there. Tension was getting to me. Questions popped out of my mind. What would I do if I found out he has another affair? What will happen to us? Will it be the end?”

“I gathered all the courage I had left. I held the door knob and moved the door further. I took another peep. My tension dropped and my fear faltered. He was there, scribbling with his pen. I gave a sigh of relief. Knowing this, I left the hospital.”

“After a year, your father arrived home early during my day off with a big basket – enough to carry a small television. He was grinning. I asked why he was happy. He reminded me of how we wanted to have a baby. That feeling I had seems to have gone.”

“You know how I feel about adoption, Edward. It just isn’t right. I don’t feel like loving a child that is not mine. I thought we were clear about this.” I said as he was sitting down on the couch beside me. His grin vanished.

“I’m sorry. It must have skipped my mind. He said.”

“He then showed me what was inside the basket. It was you.” My mother said. She then got up from the seat near the tombstone and walked towards me.

“Let’s have dinner. We haven’t had a good snack.” She told me. We left the cemetery without talking. My eyes were sore from crying. We went back home under the moon’s light. We sat down the dinner table as she heated the leftovers from the dinner we had before. I had the baked macaroni and she had the tenderloin.

“We decided to take care of you. It is embarrassing for your father to return you to the adoption center. It was hard for me to breastfeed you and change your diapers. I am really uncomfortable about it. We bought all the necessary baby things – your father was very excited. One day, his friend, Caroline, came over. It was the first time I met her. Edward never mentioned her. I asked her to have a seat. Your father wouldn’t be there until after an hour. You and your father were out shopping for your clothes when you grow into a toddler. She said that she would return next time so she left without another word. When I told your father this, he seems to be bothered. This made me bothered also. Thoughts came into my mind. It was indefinite. I couldn’t get myself together – my thoughts, feelings and emotions. Who was Caroline? How come it was the first time I met her? I became unstable.”

“It was a very beautiful day the next time she returned, your father met was the one who opened the door. I went to go see who it was. When I saw it was Caroline, I hid myself. I thought I heard your father say: I thought I told you not to go here or even see me ever again! Fear took hold of me. I was shocked at all this. Why was he banishing her? What was with their relationship?”

“I am the mother of your child! I am Claire’s mother! You very well know that! You are her father! You must know what is best for her! she shouted. Your father silenced her. I held my mouth. My tears started to fall.”

“What happened was an accident! I thought you were my wife who forgave me! You were the one who invited me, even! You are nothing but a street whore! I will not have my child be brought up by you! Was what your father said to her. Caroline cried and said: You ignorant savage! She ran off to the street and left. Your father had the door shut and rushed to your bedroom. Learning that your father had another affair, even during the time when I was looking for my heart to forgive him, I cried on that spot from where I am standing.”

Learning all of this, I didn’t know how I must feel. It was a very big amount of information for me to digest. I mixture of shock, anger, sorrow, and joy filled me. Tears flowed from my eyes again. I dropped my fork and covered my face. I cried all of my tears out.

All of this was unexpected. It was supposed to be a beautiful day.

One Response to “Spring Between Two Winters”

  1. OMG, Thanks so much for the dedication! I wish I also had the talent to write a novel like that. I can’t wait for you to finish it!:D

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