It’s what she expressly wished for me, though. Every time I’ve gone to see her, she’s pushed me out the door within twenty minutes. I think maybe it’s her way of making amends with how she’s treated Mia in the past.
“I just don’t want you to feel obligated.”
“Is it that, or are you worried I’m going to upset her? You know that’s not my intention.”
I know with all my heart Mia doesn’t have a vindictive bone in her body. She’s probably done some sort of extreme mental gymnastics and came to the conclusion that whatever part my mother played in keeping her away was her own fault. I know one thing, though, she’s entitled to speak with her and find out for herself.
“Does she like any kind of flower in specific? I don’t want to show up empty handed.” she asks as she throws a long pink tunic top on over her head. She stands in the mirror posing and spinning in circles before she takes it off and tosses it on the floor.
“You don’t have to dress up for her, Mia. Whatever you want to wear is fine. And don’t worry about the flowers. She’s got a whole fucking roomful. I’m sure the only thing she’ll really care about seeing is that ring on your finger.”
The engagement ring hasn’t left Mia’s hand since the moment I gave it to her. She sleeps with it on. She showers with it on. She wears it when she strokes my cock and I don’t even care because it’s just another reminder of who she belongs to. It’s just all the more proof she’s mine.
“Everything I have is black,” she says, tossing an armful of clothes on the bed. “I don’t want her to think I’m trying to send her a message.”
“You look beautiful in everything,” I remind her, especially right in this instant as she stands there in nothing but a pair of tan lace panties with a matching bra. “I’ll take you shopping on the way home. You can pick out some not so somber stuff.”
“Absolutely not,” she says. I want nothing more than to shower her every single day in whatever she wants. Jewelry, cars, clothes, expensive art, I don’t ever want her to want for anything. Mia isn’t about that life, though. She’s been working her ass off, dividing her days between Jakub’s office and getting her gallery set up and ready to go. She paints well into the night at least a few times a week, but every night, no matter how busy either one of us are, we always find time to lay in bed and cuddle before we fall asleep.
It only makes her that much sexier to me. All she ever really wanted was to be loved for who she is, and that’s the only thing I’ve ever been capable of doing. It’s a win win situation.
It’s not like I don’t get anything in return, like these glorious views of her getting dressed every morning, or the way she takes my hands in hers and stares into my eyes and promises she’s never going to leave me.
I don’t even know if I would’ve had the strength to navigate my mother’s illness without her by my side, but she truly has a way of making me feel like everything is going to work out just fine no matter what the world throws at us.
She finally settles on a plain yellow dress and a pair of bright blue flats, and as she rakes her fingers through her hair, I can’t help but think she looks just like a ray of sunshine.
“I’m going to go fix some coffee,” she says. “You want anything?”
My cellphone starts to ring and it’s the direct line from the hospital. “Hey mom,” I say. “We’re on our way over in a minute. I just have to hop in the shower.”
“Mr. Mazur, I’m sorry, this is Anita. I’m calling to let you know that your mother’s condition has seriously declined in the last two hours. We need you to come down here so we can discuss our options.”
“Is she going to die?” I ask.
Mia stops dead in her tracks and races over to me, wrapping her arms around me. I hang my head, resting it on her shoulder. I drop my phone to the ground and the sound of the nurse’s voice turns into muffled background noise.
21
Mia:
“I don’t want to eat up any of your time with her, Serafin,” I say, standing outside the doorway to his mother’s hospital room. I guess I enabled all of this. Everything he told me about his mother’s prognosis over the last few weeks sounded bad to me, but he kept playing it off like everything was going to be okay and she’d magically wake up one day and be completely fine.
I wanted to believe him. I guess it’s selfish, but I really really wanted to know what it was like to have a mother in law. With my mother out of the picture, I thought it would be fun to have someone to go wedding dress shopping with or someone to help me when I had questions about raising our kids. I wanted that experience with her, even if she maybe didn’t want that with me.
Now, her time is coming to an end before we even had a chance to talk in person like two human beings.
“You’re not,” he assures me, wrapping me in his arms and kissing the top of my head.
He pulls the door open, and I tiptoe into the room, trying to make as little noise as possible. I don’t know what to expect, but I don’t exactly feel like I belong here. Something about seeing someone during their last day on earth feels like a level of intimacy I’m not entitled to.
To my surprise, she looks
