Your mother came with a glass of water. The sound of the clock accompanied the silence we shared. We are waiting for each other who will break this silence first. In the end, it was your mother who started, 'Are you all right?'
'All right, all right,' I said.
'Are you sure?' your mother asked.
'Yes,' I said.
'Auntie still likes to talk to your mother, you know. Call,' your mother said.
Silence.
The sound of the clock filled the silence again.
'We all miss Nadia,' your mother said. 'Really miss.'
Your mother is trying desperately not to cry. 'But waiting doesn't mean you have to torture yourself. Auntie is also waiting anxiously, but that doesn't mean our lives don't go on.'
'Yes, auntie.'
'Auntie also hopes that she will found, whether she is healthy or not. Even though burying one's own child is the most thing parents fear.'
I can only listen.
'Auntie and Uncle know, once a week you stop by at the end of the road, like a confused person looking at the clouds, looking at our house. We know how come you were the last person to talk to her before she left. We know why, if in your heart you feel responsible for all this.'
I finally spoke up, 'I'm just sorry I can't change what happened.'
'No one knows what happened. We don't even blame anyone, Mo. We don't even blame you, why are you blaming yourself?'
My tears started to collect.
My father once said that a man should not cry, except when he is disappointed with himself.
