Olivia. You were never one to ignore the hand before
your eyes. All these years, whenever I refused to see
hardships or pain, disappointments and defeats, you
would chastise me. Stop pretending, Mother, you would say. It doesn't make it disappear if you ignore
it. It's still there. Remember?"
"Yes, but . ."
"Well, I have come to a point in my life when I
have to follow your good advice, Olivia."
She turned to gaze at her rose-tinted glasses,
sitting atop her bedside table.
"There's no point in putting them on now. It
won't change things. Living in my own imaginary
world was comfortable, but it wasn't the right thing to
do. I always knew that, Olivia. The truth is I was
selfish. In that respect Belinda is more like me than
she is like her father. Funny," she said with a small,
weak laugh, "you turned out to be more like him. It's
pleased him. I know. It's made him feel better about
what he did years and years ago," she said, her eyes
out of focus now as she gazed at pictures inside her
head.
"What do you mean, Mother? What did he do
years and years ago?"
Her eyelids fluttered and she turned to gaze
back at me, her face now full of resignation. "I am dying, Olivia. Doctor Covington was here
earlier and you know how brutally honest he can be.
It's his philosophy to be direct and honest with his
patients."
"Mother . ."
"No, no, the results are in again and they're not