Page 61 of Between Passion and Revenge: Part Two
I think.
She hums, clearly weighing the merits. This girl is seven going on seventeen—brilliant, moody, and definitely not sold on dead white men in gold chairs.
“Will we get chocolate sometime tomorrow?” she asks suddenly.
I think about it for all of two seconds before saying, “Absolutely.”
She hops a little and screams, “Yay!”
Crisis averted.
“Okay, let me get up from the floor so you can show me around,” I say, groaning as I peel myself from the expensive tile. The kids jump up and run toward their rooms, and I take my time walking over to my mom.
She draws me straight into her arms, hugging me tight.
It’s everything I could ever need.
“What’s wrong, baby?” she asks, resting her cheek on my head. She’s a few inches taller than me, but most people are.
I don’t want to let my mama go. What’s wrong? It seems like everything is wrong.
Except I’m standing in a hotel suite that costs a night what my parents paid in their mortgage every month.
My children are happy, well-nourished, and excited to experience things I couldn’t have dreamed of when I was their age.
I’m healthy. I’ve got opportunities ahead of me that are one in a million.
Who the hell am I to complain about a damn thing?
“Everything is fine, Mama,” I say, and I get a flash of my therapist Joanne telling me what “FINE” meant.
Feelings In Need of Expression.
She’s probably, definitely right.
Mama hums and pulls back, looking at my face. I can tell she doesn’t believe me, but she’s not going to push.
God bless Opal Rivers.
“You gonna be okay with the two of them alone?” she asks, and I don’t want to get annoyed at the question. These are my children. Of course I can handlemychildren.
“Yep!” I say brightly.
“You don’t have to send the nannies off either,” she says.
I smile brighter. Tighter.
“It’s fine. They didn’t sign on for an extra week galivanting around Europe,” I reply. “And it’ll be good for it to be just me and the kids.”
“And security. You remember Kim Kardashian was robbed in France. Don’t trust none of these crazy people,” she says, her tone serious.
“Yes, Mama,” I say. “The guards stay. Happy?”
Mama looks at me hard as if seeing right through me. After a long moment, she says, “I’m happy when you’re happy, baby.”
And that right there has the power to thoroughly undo me, so I give her another hug in response.
By the end of the day, I’m wiped, even though we call it in early. We spent time exploring the city of Versailles. We ate at a cute restaurant with the best bread, walked around the outdoor market, and spent the rest of the afternoon in the suite before Mom and the nannies left for the airport.
