“I left because I felt like I didn’t belong,” I’m soaking her shirt. “Nadine and Rosa felt like home for so long that when they left, you andTatayfelt like strangers.”
Ma brushes a palm down my hair. “Do you want to go somewhere with me?”
She forces me to pull away, hands tucking away sweaty hair. “Where?” I ask.
“Come on,” she’s on her feet. Pulling me down to the basement. It’s been the no-entry zone since I was born. Something aboutTatay’soffice being down there and mom’s forgotten pottery studio. She turns on the light.
It smells old and repainted.
When I hit the last step, I see it.
I’m hit by a bulldozing crowd at a music festival. It’s loud, chaotic, and utterly magical. The walls are covered with frames. Not regular frames, but a single flower petal in each. There’s a post-it on each frame.
I move across each, letting myself be guided by an aura that isn’t mine. This is the universal freeze theory scientists talk about. World heats and it’ll be over in less time than I can process what’s in front of me.
Ma hums a tune under her breath, but she doesn’t interfere as I scour the flower wall. There’s a conversation on each note.
How are you, Nova? I hope you’re good.
I liked this floral arrangement. It reminds me of your mother.
Nadine tells me you’re happy. I’m glad.
There’s one that’s just bullet points of conversation topics.
I have to close my eyes and poke tears away because this is unbearable. I’ve been living my life resenting my parents, while they were secretly loving me.
I stop in front of a particular one. It’s not a dried petal, but a picture of my shop.
Rivera’s Roses.
You can see my shadow through the window.
“H-how long?” I’m hurting everywhere. It hurts where there are no wounds—after this, I’ll be applying iodine on phantom scars.
“Since you first opened your shop.” Every syllable waters the damaged seeds in my soul. “Your dad and I came to visit you when we stumbled upon it. At first, we didn’t understand. You told everyone you were an editor, but then we watched you put together arrangements from afar. Parents want to see their children happy—you wereecstatic. That was enough.”
“You’ve been buying from me.”
Her silence is a quiet confirmation. “It’s wonderful how there’s people on the internet willing to take your deliveries.”
“I’ve only sent flowers to Calgary,” my voice breaks.
“They’d send it to us from there.” She squeezes my shoulder. “Your father and I are so, so proud of you. You made the best out of your life without us.”
All I can do is giveMaanother soul-crushing hug and sob.
I cry about all of it. My life. The show. Dean. It’s a resurrecting experience, I recommend everyone try it. It turns ugly, completely savage to the point she has to tell me to calm down.
We go back upstairs, Ma forces me to finish my cold tea. Then she gets working in the kitchen, while I watch her. When I’m no longer crying, we talk about everything. I tell her about the show, about how weird the cameras were. She tells me aboutTatay’ssnoring issue. I tellher about my first kiss with Dean, the conversation with Rosa and Nadine, and the point where I ran from everyone.
Not once does she judge me, but she goes quiet at points like she’s thinking her mother thoughts—having opinions but doesn’t want to spill them over my feelings.
The sun sets, she turns on the new pot lights, the neighbours with the annoying dog installed for them, and we eat chicken pot pie on the couch.
Hours later, when the sky turns black and I can hear the crashing waves over Ma’s laughter over watchingNew Girl, the door flies open and in comes the hurricane ofTatay.
He looks the same, yet older. The remaining pieces of his hair are now gone. There’re scars over his hands, but he bears the same dark skin as I remember. He doesn’t see me laying on Ma’s lap.
