All of My Days

7

2009

"You are delusional, Seri," her mother's voice ran through her ears, echoing in sharp tones, piercing her with tiny needles. "You think you can do better? You should be grateful he's even interested in you. Why does he bother trying is beyond me, but he is and we're not going to miss this opportunity. Not like anyone else will take you."

She spat the words as if they were poison and left the room, leaving her daughter alone at the marble kitchen counter. Seri looked down at her hands, skinny fingers trembling slightly at the contact with the cold surface. Bitten nails with dried blood glared at her as if proving her inadequacy, and the girl shrunk, crouching down at the counter, hugging herself. Tears streamed down her face pressed to the cold marble.

Straighten up, at least pretend that you're good enough to be here.

You're a piece of trash your father picked up on the road.

No decent man would ever want you, be grateful for what you get.

Seri pressed her hands to her ears trying to block off her mother's voice unsuccessfully. The words that would haunt her dreams for many years afterward.

* * *

"Do you think it will ever happen?" she typed, hesitantly biting her lower lip.

"What?"

"You. Me. In person." she clarified as if he didn't already know what she meant. She felt stupid asking, like she was the only one who wanted it. Like she was forcing herself on him.

He was quiet for a while. She checked time and time again that the little flower sign next to his name was still green, that he was still online.

She needed some clarity. Whatever it brought. Yes. Or no.

She was tired of hanging in limbo waiting for something to happen, something to change when it never did. And if only he gave her a slither of hope that someday it might, that he yearned for it as much as she did, she would wait. Only he was as elusive as always.

"I am genuinely sorry that I cannot promise you anything, my love," he said eventually. "You have no idea."

They've been down that road before and it's a fucking dead end.

"You never tell me anything. How can I have any idea?" she asked rhetorically, feeling a growing lump in her throat. "This is the 21st century. We are both practically adults. We both can travel, you just returned from a trip abroad, for God's sake! We both have the means to buy tickets. What is the issue?" she continued pressing, swallowing her pride.

She knew she was pushing the limits, that possibly there will be no turning back after this, but she couldn't help it. The lump in her throat was physically hurting her, eyes stinging with unshed tears.

"I cannot keep waiting if you don't give me anything to hold onto," she typed when he did not respond.

"Don't," she could barely see his reply through the thick layer of tears, "Please don't. I want you to be happy, please don't torture yourself. You deserve to live a full happy life," he added and she dropped her head, hot tears burning her cheeks now.

"So you don't want to?" she asked, nearly missing the keys. Her mother was right after all...

"I am sorry I let this go too far when I couldn't promise you anything. I truly am."

She wished he just said it directly instead of using words that are so shaded with genuine hope that it always lulled her into that false hope that's shrouded her for so long. If he doesn't even want to try...