Page 28 of Marked By Him

“Mom,” I groan at her endless praise.

The nail tech casts a knowing smile at me. “Your daughter is very beautiful. You can tell you are mother and daughter. I have a daughter too. She’s studying medicine in Seoul, but she is so busy, she never calls!”

“That’s this one right here,” Mom laughs. “I had to come see her to get some attention.”

“That’s what happens when they grow,” the nail tech says sagely. She’s started lathering one of Mom’s feet in oil while mine are still steeping in the small tub of frothy bubbles. “They get their own lives and don’t need you anymore. It is bittersweet.”

I can only smile as the two women bond over the next hour of our mani-pedi. But it’s less of a happy smile, more of what the nail tech has described as bittersweet.

Having Mom around this past week has been such a balm for my aching heart. It’s been a nice escape spending time with her and, at leastsometimes, forgetting my troubles.

But the closer we get to Sunday, the more I’m reminded how everything changes the moment she’s gone.

I fiddle with the bracelet I’m wearing, Mom’s bright voice drifts in and out as she chats and laughs with the nail tech. It feels like I’m drowning, and I don’t know how to break back onto the surface…

When we leave the salon, our nails gleam with summery gel polish. She loops her arm through mine as we wander the boardwalk some more and even grab the mango ice cream she’s come to love.

“This day is just perfect,” she says. “This whole visit has been. Thank you for making it that way, Moni.”

“I’m glad you enjoyed yourself, Mom.”

“I’m going to come back again. Maybe in the winter next time. I missed you this last Christmas.”

I nod but don’t answer. The ice cream is melting too fast in this heat, and I can’t keep up with it. I can’t even keep up with pretending I’m as content as she is right now. I’ve been doing it for a week, and I’m exhausted.

Mom steers us toward a bench to sit down and rest our feet for a few minutes.

“Now,” she says gently as we’ve taken our seats. “I think it’s time you tell me what’s really troubling you, baby.”

My heart skips a beat. I blink at her, thrown off. “Uh… what?”

“I’ve been watching you, Moni,” she says, taking off her sunglasses and tucking them into her purse. “You haven’t been yourself all week. You’ve been trying to be for me, but a mother knows, baby. That sweet little smile you put on at the nail salon? It didn’t even touch your eyes. And yesterday, when we were at the market, I saw how lost in your head you were. Something is wrong. You’re not the same.”

I swallow, looking down at my sandals. “I’m just… I’m going to miss you.”

She shakes her head. “That’s not it. I know you better than anybody. I carried you inside me for nine whole months. Something’s heavy on your heart.”

I can’t bring myself to think up another excuse.

The sun is lower now, casting the water in gold, though the beach still bustles with life. I feel so disconnected from everything and everyone, it’s like I’m adrift in the water while others are firm on dry land.

Mom takes my hand in her lap, stroking the back of it. “When your father died, I thought the world had ended. We were high school sweethearts. But you already know that. I never looked at another man once I met him. Never even wanted to. That man was the only one I ever loved. Nobody ever even came close.”

I shift uncomfortably. “Mom…”

“When we lost him, I used to lie awake at night and ask God how I was supposed to go on. How could I, when my other half was gone?” she muses, squeezing my hand. “It was like missing a whole chunk of myself. But then he answered me… he helped me realize something, baby girl. Your father never really left. He’s lived on in me. He’s lived on in you. I carry him with me every day, wherever I go.

“That doesn’t mean it still doesn’t hurt that we lost him like we did. But we had twenty-three glorious, happy years together. We created you, the greatest gift we could give each other. What else could I ask for?”

I open my mouth to finally say something but find I can’t speak right now. My throat is aching and cool tears slide down my cheeks before I even realize I’ve started crying. The tears quickly blur my vision, the breath stuttering in my lungs.

The floodgates have been opened.

Just like that, I’mweeping. I can’t stop it from pouring out of me. All the emotion I’ve had bottled up breaks free.

Mom’s arms quickly come around me like they used to when I was a little girl and had fallen off my bike and scraped my knee. She holds me in her soothing way, rubbing my back and stroking my hair.

I’m crying for Dad. For the pain I know Mom’s been through, and that same pain I felt when we lost him.

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