20
This time, my mother heard it clearly.
She nods and puts down the paintbrush. "Are you still going to call him professor?"
I am stunned.
"There isn't a professor named Lincoln at your school."
A crow outside suddenly caws.
"You found out?" I swallow and ask softly.
"When I was sick, I couldn't pay much attention to you; now that I'm better, I wanted to fulfill a mother's responsibility, so I checked your school's website." My mother sighs lightly. "His name is Lincoln Daniels, isn't he Mateo's brother? Everything is online."
It's all over.
This morning, I brainstormed the whole way here, following the narrative that Lincoln initially used to deceive my mother—that he was my professor, and that I had divorced Mateo, so we started dating. I even fabricated a background for him, saying his parents passed away but were deeply in love.
"So, was he the one who found the kidney donor, and not, as you said before, your aunt and uncle out of the goodness of their hearts?" my mother continues.
"Mom..." I take a deep breath. "I'm really sorry I lied to you."
"It's me who should apologize to you."
"If it weren't for my illness, you wouldn't have been forced to marry a man you didn't love. The most ridiculous part is that as your mother, I was the last to know."
My mother pauses. "These past few days, I've been feeling so guilty but didn't know how to bring it up."
"Mom—" I choke up a bit.
The bird outside caws again, staring at us through the window.
Tears glisten in my mother's eyes. I reach out to wipe them away and gently hug her.
"Mom, do you remember when I was little and loved to cry? You always said something to me."
"What?"
"You said, 'Life is like a cork drifting down a small river.
' The TV at home didn't work, and I missed my favorite cartoon; I cried.
I went to the store, and my favorite strawberry ice cream was sold out; I cried.
But you said, there are always unexpected things happening in life, and it's no one's fault.
All we can do is accept it and try to love the people around us. "
My mother looks up at me. "You actually remember that?"
"My memory has always been good." I smile. "At first, I didn't really understand what that meant. But the older I get, the more I realize how true it is."
"Mom, even though you were often absent from my life because of your illness, unable to attend my parent-teacher meetings, or take me on trips, I still love you."
Her hair and clothes still carry the scent of jasmine, just like the smell I remember from my childhood.
"I love you too," she finally says after a long pause.
"But that's not something I said."
"What?"
"That was something Renoir said. I was just quoting him." French Impressionist painter
I look at her with wide eyes, and she smiles.
Then I smile too.
The sun climbs higher, and the garden outside the window is bathed in sunlight.
"I have one more question. Just one last question," my mother says, slowly calming down.
"What is it?"
"Do you really like Lincoln?" She pauses. "I don't care about his relationship with Mateo, and I don't care about what people say about you being tangled up with two brothers. I'm just worried that the reason you're with him is the same reason you married Mateo in the first place—just for me."
"Mom, actually—"
I recall how I met Lincoln.
At first, I actually disliked him.
He was gossipy and flippant, encouraging me to cheat. He was also cunning, flirting with me just to make his brother angry.
When did my feelings for him start to change?
It seems it was when I realized that his flirtatious words were just that—words.
When I had a fever and went to the hospital, I needed medication on my back.
I thought he would use the opportunity to take off my shirt, but instead, he called a nurse to help.
Later.
He dragged the illegal immigrant who tried to rob me into an alley, beating him until he was bloody.
When I fell into the mountains, he tended to my wounds first, ignoring his brother who was even more seriously injured.
When I was trapped in the old mansion, I thought he was gone for good, that he would never come back.
But when I fell from a great height, he opened his arms and held me tightly, keeping me safe in his embrace.
"I love him, Mom. I love him," I say to my mother as Lincoln walks in.
Summer arrives quietly, with wild raspberries hanging down from the trees along the path. At the end of June, Lincoln and I get married.
Lincoln stands at the entrance of the city hall in a black tailored suit. I hold onto his arm, dressed in a white wedding gown, with a bouquet in my hands. To appear taller, I've worn ten-centimeter high heels, making my steps a bit wobbly.
Lincoln has me hold the bouquet close to my chest, then holds me in his arms.
We're here for the marriage registration, and naturally, Sandwich, as a family member, has to be present.
However, as we're taking photos in the garden, he's immediately distracted by a passerby carrying a hot dog. Lincoln quickly runs after the dog, while I stand there holding the bouquet, watching and laughing.
"Long time no see."
A tall shadow suddenly appears in front of me.
I look up and see my ex-husband, Mateo.
I'm surprised to see him here, and the next moment, Lincoln returns with the dog on a leash.
"Oh? What brings you here?"
Lincoln wraps his arm around my waist and, with a mocking tone, says to Mateo, "Those in the know would say the ex-husband is here to see his ex-wife get married. To those who don't, it might look like a father giving away his daughter."
Mateo frowns at this. "Don't be so smug. You're 30 now; you're still much older than she is."
The sunlight is perfect, and the park is slowly filling with people.
"Is there anything else?" Lincoln asks.
Mateo looks at me, then at Lincoln, with the sunlight shining on his face.
He coughs.
"I'm here to apologize today," Mateo says to Lincoln, then pauses. "We've both caused irreversible harm in each other's lives, and I'm here to sincerely apologize for my part."
"That's really not necessary," Lincoln says as he leads me toward the car, opening the door for Sandwich and me to get in. He then turns to Mateo and says, "We're in a hurry, we need to go now."
"Where are you headed?"
"America, for our honeymoon."
As we sit on the plane with Sandwich, I study the map of the United States and nudge Lincoln with my elbow. "I want to visit the Red Rock Canyon National Wildlife Refuge."
It's in Las Vegas too, but most people are more interested in the casinos.
"Sure," Lincoln replies.
"I also want to see Haleakalā Crater."
"No problem."
"Mendenhall Glacier seems nice too..."
"Ali," Lincoln hands me a glass of juice and sighs softly, "I think you're forgetting that before our honeymoon, we need to settle in first and meet with your physical therapist."