10. Chapter 10
The scent of cinnamon and yeast envelops me as I enter the kitchen. Mama stands at the table, her forearms dusted with flour as she kneads dough with practiced hands.
I slide onto the bench across from her, my heart hammering. Now”s the moment to break the news. Bittersweet, given the ramifications.
”Mama, I have news.”
She glances up, her tiny but strong hands still working the dough. ”What is it, child?”
I take a deep breath. Just say it quick, like ripping off a bandage. ”I”m moving to America with Gerald.”
Mama”s hands still. Concern clouds her eyes. ”Alina, are you certain? You”ve only known this man a short time. Just because he sweeps you off your feet by taking you to some fancy tropical island doesn”t mean he”s who he says he is.”
”I know, but—”
She holds up a floury hand. ”Listen to me. Men make big promises they rarely keep. If something seems too good to be true, it is.”
Doubt creeps in. She has a point—I only met Gerald a few short months ago, and we”ve only spent a few days together in person.
But no, I”ve thought about this a lot and decided I can”t let fear rule me.
”He”s not like that, Mama. I trust him.” I lean forward, willing her to understand. ”If you”d met him in person, you”d feel the same way.”
She searches my face. ”I hope you”re right, child. But please, promise me you”ll be cautious.”
”I promise.” I reach across the table and squeeze her floury hand.
No matter what the future holds, nothing can break our bond.
Mama looks thoughtful as she resumes kneading, working the dough with practiced motions.
”You know I only want what”s best for you, right Alina?” Her voice is gentle. ”My concerns come from experience, that”s all.”
I nod, knowing she speaks the truth. Mama”s keen eye and wisdom has guided me well over the years.
Yet something in me resists her doubts now.
”Gerald has proven trustworthy so far,” I say firmly. ”I”ve watched for red flags, and haven”t seen any.”
Mama raises an eyebrow. ”It”s easy to put on an act at first. To show you who they want you to see. For some, they can keep up the pretense for months, even years.” Her expression turns solemn. ”But eventually, the cracks appear and the real person emerges.” She pauses. ”And if you haven”t seen any red flags at all, then it sounds like you have blinders on. Because every man has some kind of a flag.”
I lean forward, unwilling to back down. ”What if this is who he truly is, though? A good man who cares for me, and who would do anything for me and Yara? And seriously… the only thing I”ve found not to like about him so far is that he doesn”t like pickles.”
Mama”s face softens a bit at my stubborn hope, and she smirks at the pickle reference. She reaches across the table and pats my hand.
”Then I”m wrong, and you have my full blessing, Alina.” A hint of a smile touches her lips. ”I”ll look forward to visiting you both in America someday soon.”
Her words lift my spirits. I knew convincing Mama wouldn”t be easy, but her tentative acceptance means everything.
”I promise we”ll bring you over to live with us as soon as we can. Gerald”s already talking about starting your immigration paperwork the moment we”re married.”
”Let”s hope for the best,” she says, nodding. ”But don”t let worrying about me cloud your judgement. And just promise me you”ll be careful.”
I meet her gaze directly. ”I promise, Mama.”
No matter what the future holds, I”ll enter it with open eyes. Mama gave me the gift of wisdom, and now I have to find the courage to follow my heart.
Mama squeezes my hand gently before returning to kneading the dough. I watch her strong, nimble fingers work the pale mound. Baking has been her passion since girlhood. Even in our darkest days after Papa died, Mama always managed to conjure up sweet breads to fill our bellies and spirits.
Looking at her now, I feel a pang of guilt. I want her blessings for this new chapter of my life, but I would forge ahead regardless if she put up a fuss.
I have to, for Yara.
Still, having her support makes things much easier.
”You”ve given me so much, Mama,” I say softly. ”I don”t want to seem ungrateful, or like I”m running away and abandoning you.”
She pauses, dusting flour off her hands before facing me again. ”Oh Alina, you have nothing to feel guilty for. A mother”s greatest joy is seeing her child spread her wings and fly. I always knew you”d do amazing things.”
I blink back sudden tears. ”I”ll send for you, as soon as I”m settled. Yara will need her grandmother”s guidance.”
Mama chuckles. ”And her cooking! American food is so bland, or so I”ve heard.”
We both laugh, the sound lifting the mood.
No matter what comes next, our bond will remain as strong as ever.
I smile through my tears as Mama comes out from behind the counter and wraps her arms around me the way she has since I was a little girl. Her arms are frailer now, but the meaning behind this simple act is as powerful as ever.
Inhaling the scent of yeast and cinnamon that always clings to her, I”m instantly transported back to childhood. To long days spent watching her bake in her cramped kitchen, learning at her side.
She”s taught me so much over the years—how to roll out dough, shape intricate braided loaves, and test when cakes were done with a toothpick.
But more than recipes or techniques, she”s imparted wisdom. Patience while waiting for dough to rise. Care in choosing ingredients even when you have hardly any food in your pantry. The value of putting love into everything you create.
I cling to her tightly, knowing I”ll carry those lessons with me wherever I go. They”re woven into the fabric of who I am.
She pulls back, cradling my face in her flour-dusted hands. ”You”ll write?”
I nod, not trusting my voice. ”Of course, and we can do video calls as well. I”ll help you get it all set up before we leave.”
”And I know you”ll take wonderful care of my granddaughter. Gosh, I”m going to miss her.”
”Of course, Mama.” I managed a watery smile, instantly feeling guilty for taking Yara away. ”And I know she”ll miss you too. I”ll make sure you can video chat all the time.”
She kisses my forehead. ”Good. Then I have nothing to worry about. I”m so proud of you, Alina, for never settling or accepting what life gave you.”
I hope she”s right. That the roots she”s given me will be enough to flourish in new soil.
Drawing a shaky breath, I stand, my heart brimming with equal parts excitement and fear.
But bravery isn”t the absence of fear, it”s moving forward despite it.
And for Yara, I will find that courage.