Page 9 of P.S. I'm With You
“I deserve to see my girls happy.” His eyes become glassy as a tear trails down his cheek. “I deserve to know that the two loves of my life are safe. Go and teach that little girl to be fearless, just like you. And you,” —he swallows thickly as more tears fall—“you go and find your peace. Grow old and grey. Find someone to worship you as I have, because you deserve nothing less.”
“Never!” I snap through my own sobs. “You hear me, Dominik Kovac? Never! You own my heart and my soul. You are my peace, and I’ll never look for another because you are it.” I give him a pleading look as a horn sounds outside—my ride to the train. “Stay with me,” I beg desperately one last time. Dominik gives me a sad smile before pressing his lips to my forehead.
“I’m with you.” He pulls back, and I feel so empty as I make my way to the car. I give him one last glance before entering the car and slamming the door shut. As the car pulls away, I stare at the passports in my lap, losing track of time until the driver tells me we’ve arrived. I get out of the car and head through the busy station. As I step onto the train, my heart tries to beat out of my chest.What if Zora isn’t here? What if Dominik was set up?
I walk towards cabin twenty, and sure enough, an older woman with short grey hair and a floral dress sits, knitting a blanket. I see a bunch of freshly cut irises in a basket beside her.
“Excuse me,” I say, grabbing her attention. “I’m looking to purchase a flower.” I pull the envelope from my backpack. The woman’s dark eyes consider me before nodding her head, motioning for me to take a flower.
“Take the one wrapped in yellow, such a pretty color paper.” I furrow my brows at her statement while reaching down and grabbing the wrapped flower, leaving the envelope in its place. I look at the paper and see a number—forty-two, and I immediately leave the room. I rush down the narrow hall of the train, shoving past travelers and workers alike until I reach the door with “forty-two” written above it. Ripping open the door, I step in.
“Mommy!”
I have nothing left; no strength, no mask, nothing. My sweet girl runs to me and I collapse to my knees, pulling her tightly to my chest as sob after sob wreck through me.
“My sweet Zora, my flower, a-are you okay?” I can’t even look at her for fear of not having her touching my heart.
“I’m okay, Mommy. Daddy protected me. He said you and I were going to go on a trip and you wouldn’t have to be away anymore!” I pull her back, only slightly, and give her a sad smile as I continue to sob.
“Yes, my love, I will never leave you again. Mommy is with you, always.”
Seven
NIKA
PRESENT DAY
“Wow,” Stefa breathes out as she leans back against the chair. “So all those stories, they were real?”
“Ah.” I scoff, waving my hand. “You think Baka have the time to come up with the fairytales to amuse you, Stefa? No, it real life.”
“But, Mama,” my Zora says softly, her eyes looking at the box. “What does this mean? It’s been decades, who would’ve found you, and why? How?”
My hand trembles slightly as I open the box and look inside.
“Oh.” The sob that escapes is unexpected as my eyes land on the picture frame. It is of me when I gave birth to Zora, Dominik next to me.
“Baka, that was you?” Stefa says in astonishment.
“What? You think Baka come out looking like old lady with the wrinkles? You make me wrinkle with your back talking.”Stefa snorts as I pick up a piece of paper. Zora looks over my shoulder at it.
“What does it say, Mama?” she asks, unable to read the language.
“Certificate of Death, Dominik Novak.” I hear Zora gasp, but pay no mind. Certificate of Death? Dominik? How…
“Excuse me,” I say, standing up.
“Baka, where are you going?” Stefa asks while reaching out to grab me.
“I have many things to do, Stefa. You think this place just run on wishes and sunshine? Hard work, Stefa, no time to dwell. No… no time to think. It was long time ago.‘I with you’. Ah, he no with me. He stay there, become Lord of the Damned. He made the choice. No calls, no letters—”
“Mama.” Zora’s voice grabs my attention and I look to see her pulling envelopes out of the box. I walk over and read the writing on the front. “My Queen”. And on the back. “PS I’m with you.” The box is full of them—letters he had written but never sent? Why?
“Mama!” Zora calls after me as I walk out of the bakery. How dare he? Nothing for over five decades, and then I get a box of heartbreak. To do what? To hurt all over again and realize that he has, once again, left me alone to figure out the world?
“Fucking asshole,” I growl while resting my hand against the back of the building.
“You’ve called me worse.” The male voice causes my heart to nearly stop. I know that voice. Even after half a century, and even though it’s become rougher with age, I know that voice. Looking up, I’m met with familiar blue eyes, and salt and pepper hair.
