Bad Boy Rich

With her hand grasping mine, I sob, “Mom, I’m scared.”

She hushes me, kissing my forehead. “You’re a brave girl. This baby is going to be loved so much. I promise you, you’ll change forever and feel nothing like the love for this baby.”

Nodding my head, I lay back, and stare at the ceiling while the surgeon begins. The voices that surround me are muffled; I’m too focused on this tugging of my body, and after what seems like forever, a sound echoes loudly in the room, wails from a baby.

“Congratulations, it’s a girl!”

Everyone in the room cheers; Mom grinning so big with clouded eyes. She begins to laugh, a joyous laugh that I hadn’t heard in such a long time.

“She’s beautiful.”

The nurse, smiling wide, brings her over to me, the baby’s face making contact against my own.

She’s stopped crying, squinting her eyes and blinded by the light. It’s all surreal; the elation in the room and the overjoyed miracle of birth. But I’m exhausted, waiting for this moment of love to wash over me like everyone said it would. There’s something that stirs, an unknown emotion but all I see is his face.

All I see is him.

“I’m so proud of you honey, I told you, you’ll fall in love from the moment you see her.”

I smile, forced. “You’re right Mom, that’s exactly how I feel.”

That moment remains crystal clear. The moment that every woman dreamed about…just not me. I never wanted babies. I never wanted to have a family and pass on Mom’s disease. No one, and I mean no one, understood the pain of watching their mother suffer as much as I did. Each time, each memory loss, fueled my sadness and threw me deeper into a depression.

And just when I began to climb out, see a small ray of light—the nightmare continues its wretched domination.

She’s lying beside me; dressed in a little pink bunny outfit that Phoebe insisted she wear. Her face has changed, a chubby little girl with light eyes and wispy brown hair. Something about her face, something I couldn’t quite distinguish—reminded me of him. It was the shape of her eyes, perhaps, nothing like my almond shape. Or maybe it was her tiny hands, the shape of her nails that mirrored his.

I still thought about him.

Every day.

Every time I looked at her.

She stirs, softly, and when that stir is the beginning of a cry, I scoop her in my arms. I’m tired. She didn’t take to sleeping well and my breasts didn’t produce the milk like it should have. I felt like a failure; a sign that I wasn’t cut out to be a mother. I wasn’t sure when I last washed my hair, or even shaved my legs.

It was all about her. Just me and her.

I watch her again, and surely, she must know I’m complaining about her as a sweet smile plays on her lips. My heart begins to flutter, my smile in tow. I laugh, softly to myself, wishing Mom could see this.

Quickly, hoping to recap this moment, I place her in her carrier and head over to visit Mom. She loved seeing Katerina and I was excited, for once, to have her in my arms.

It’s a short drive over, enough to keep Katerina settled. The moment I arrive, a doctor ushers me in, asking me to take a seat.

“Miss Milenov, we wanted to speak to you in private.” He removes his glasses, rubbing his eyes. “Unfortunately, we received your mother’s results back and they aren’t good.”

My stomach omits a sick growl, making it difficult to breathe and focus. “What’s…what’s wrong?”

“We found a tumor, beside her brain. It’s cancerous and has spread. We can’t operate.”

My hands begin to shake; his words absolute nonsense. “What do you mean you can’t operate?”

“It’s spread, and it’s too late, I’m sorry.”

I shake uncontrollably. “How long…how long do we have?”

“It’s a difficult question. I can’t really ans—”

“ANSWER ME!”