Page 169 of Eternal
He’s quiet for a moment, then asks, “How do you know she loved you, then?”
“Because she was mymother.” The lie slips out like an instinct from my lips, like something I’ve held onto so tightly it’s fused to my bones. It was all a lie, but it was the only lie I had to believe to survive. “She was just tired. So, she tried to forget everything.”
Even me.
His fingers brush over mine again, slowly, like he’s giving me time to keep going.
“What do you remember from her?”
“I remember how her voice would disappear after she drank too much. How it would turn raspy, ruined from throwing up. I used to think it was a game. Trying to understand what she wassaying.” I huff out something that almost sounds like a laugh. “But deep down, I knew she didn’t even know what time it was. Still, she was my mom. I had to believe she loved me. What else was a kid supposed to do?”
My chest tightens, and I squeeze his hand before I can stop myself.
Stay here. Don’t go.
“She always cried after hurting me. And I’d sit there, rubbing my cheek, wanting to comfort her.” I shake my head. “That was the fucked-up part. I was the one hurt, and I still wanted to be the one to make her feel better. But she cried for me. Somaybe…maybe she did love me after all.”
He doesn’t say anything, but then his hand is on my cheek, warm and careful, and before I can process it, he’s pulling me against him.
His arms close around me, firm, solid, insanely him. His breath brushes the top of my head. “Partner,” he murmurs, “you make me want to keep you here until your body finally learns the difference between affection and violence.”
“You’ll have to tattoo it into my brain for me to remember…” I laugh, pathetically. I squeeze my eyes shut, pressing closer. “That’s why they’re irises on the table,” I whisper. “Because she was still my mom. Even when she forgot it.”
A slow exhale, and then, akiss, barely there, just the faintest press of lips against my hairline. I don’t know what to do with it. I don’t know how to accept it, but my body is giving in, exhaustion curling around me like a tide I can’t fight.
“I’ll buy you more irises,” he says softly. “An entire garden for my partner.”
I can’t breathe. “Would you?”
“Of course. I’ll make you love them again. With me. Onlyme.”
The words settle into me, deep, deeper.
“Purple ones,” I mumble.
And then I’m gone.
“Purple irises,” he replies back, and it’s the only thing I can hear before sleep finds me.
Purple irises…
44
DAMIR
“In My Room” by Chance Peña
Present
Purple irises.
The old journal sits on the table, the blanket folded beside it. Another song plays on repeat, and my hands…fuck. My hands won't stop moving, fingers tracing the curve of her cheek, the line of her jaw.
Broken. So many demons, so many thoughts, but none strong enough to name what I feel with her lying here, vulnerable in a way I was never supposed to see.
“You’re always sosad…” I whisper, though she won’t hear it, not in her sleep, not in her dreams, if she even has them.
Shecan’tdie. Ican’tkill her. I don’twantto.
