Page 19 of Pain and Pleasure

"I'm proud of you, you know," I croak out, breaking the silence as she peeks up and stares at me. Her eyes are wide and confused.

"There's nothing to be proud of, Emmie. I'm just trying to right my wrongs. However, I don't think there's enough time in anyone's life for me to do that. For me to repair all the damage that I've caused…"

She sniffles and I set my hand on her knee, squeezing it gently.

"You're doing what you can, Mom. You're trying and that's all I care about. I just want you to keep trying, to never stop trying."

She stares at me for a moment, and I see tears form in her eyes, but she pushes them away just as quickly as they came.

"It just hurts to try, you know? It hurts to remember. All the damn time. That's all I do. I wake up, I remember, I ache and then I go back to bed. Maybe mop some floors and remembering."

That's her attempt at cracking a joke and I realized that she's never done that before. She's never really spoken a full sentence with me before unless it was something to do with money or needing something from me. I smile at her and she returns it, her eyes crinkling. I can see the lines on her face growing and stretching, her age accelerating from the years of drug use.

She's a beautiful woman and I know if she would've taken care of herself better, maybe never met the monster I have for a father, she'd still have her youth and beauty. Now, she just looks tired.

"Isn't that what life is? Remembering and still choosing to move forward? To make more memories to look back on. Maybe even replace them with the shitty ones."

I think of Dante when I say the last part. I think of all the dark moments we've had since knowing one another and how they're slowly getting replaced from those quiet moments of passion that we've shared. My mom scoffs in response.

"I guess so. I guess that's all it will ever be."

She slaps her hand on the bed and gets up, walking towards the door.

"I just wanted to see how your day was today. I know I have never really cared or shown my interest in your education, but I'm proud of you, Emmie. I'm proud that no matter what life throws at you, you still keep moving without a thought."

She gives me a small smile and heads toward the door, but I stop her before she can open it.

"Life's not just about memories, mom. It's about love too, if you'll let it."

She nods at me, her small smile stretching as she walks out of my bedroom and closes the door behind her. I put my laptop on my nightstand and get up to stretch, my limbs deliciously sore from both last night and this morning. My stomach growls in hunger and I realize that I haven't eaten since last night.

As I walk down the staircase, I head towards the direction of Ricky's bedroom when I hit the main floor. I knock on his door a few times, expecting an immediate response when it comes to him, but find that I am only greeted with silence. I open the door and walk inside, searching for him but coming up short. His room is large like mine, but his bathroom and closet are no comparison to the grand scale of my quarters.

His closet is filled with a wide variety of clothing, all in different colors and materials. I spot a few of the custom-made pieces he created during the many semesters of fashion school. This man really does have a talent and it sets him apart from many other designers out there in the world. He's always loved color and has never been too shy to play with it, you can see it in his pieces. My stomach growls again, disrupting my nostalgia.

I walk down to the kitchen and grab leftovers from last night, heating them up in the microwave as Javier walks in. He looks at me with an appalled expression and I freeze.

"What in God's name do you think you're doing?" he asks me, disgust lacing his voice. I am utterly confused and point to the microwave as if he's blind.

"Heating up leftovers, I'm starving." I explain.

He walks to the microwave, opening the door and grabbing my food before throwing the contents of my plate into the garbage can. My mouth widens in exasperation.

"Javi! What the fuck was that about?"

He shrugs and walks to the oven, pulling out a freshly baked tray of empanadas. My mouth immediately starts watering as he sets one on a plate, gesturing for me to sit down across from him at the counter.

"If you're hungry, then eat real food. Not chicken remains that are fried from radiation."

I roll my eyes at him as I cut into the dough on my plate, all but shoving down the empanada within seconds. Of course he wouldn't approve of a microwave, he's a five-star chef.

"Why even have a microwave in the first place?" I ask him as he plates the rest of the beef filled empanadas.

"I guess it came with the floor plan," he says with distaste. I laugh and finish my food, gulping down a glass of water and thanking him.

"Do you know where Ricky is? I stopped by his room, but he wasn't there."

He sets the plate in the center of the counter before going to the fridge to gather ingredients for what I guess would be tonight's dinner. I wonder if he ever does anything besides cook.

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