When you love me

Where can I fit in

Soft morning light floods my room through the white curtains as I slowly wake up. The sound of distant voices echoes through the house, indicating that my mother is already in the kitchen preparing coffee, with someone accompanying her. I get out of bed and put on a comfortable sweater, and wash my face in the bathroom.

I notice movement coming from outside and look out the window. A boy is there, loading crates into the truck parked near the garage. He closes the back of the car with a soft bang, and suddenly his eyes meet mine through the window.

Panic fills me for a moment, and I quickly move away, hiding behind the wall. Who will he be? Why are you here so early? These questions echo in my mind as I try not to be seen.

Soon after, I hear the car engine starting and the sound of the truck moving away down the road. I peer out the window, watching the car drive away until it disappears from view. Curiosity mixes with a sense of relief, but a question persists: who was that boy and what was he doing here so early?

I take a deep breath and decide to put my questions aside. I go downstairs and go to the kitchen, where my mother is setting out cups of coffee and plates of fresh fruit. She smiles when I see her.

— Good morning my love. — she says, warmly. — I thought you might like to start the day with a good breakfast.

I nod my thanks, sitting at the table and accepting a hot cup of coffee. As I slowly sip, my mind wanders back to the boy in the truck and the unanswered questions that continue to intrigue me.

—Who was here? — I ask finally.

My mother stopped everything, seeing that this was new to her, perhaps considering it a small step towards changing our relationship, but deep down, I'm not thinking about it.

— It's Ryan. He came to bring me some things. He is the son of a great friend, Lauren. You will enjoy getting to know them.

— Do you live... alone, here?

She sits down and rests her arms on the table, organizing her words before answering.

— No dear.

— Who lives with you?

My mother swallows hard, looks away a few times, and I swear she's shaking.

— I got married again, Jennie. We had a daughter. Do you have a sister.

I can't think straight, and all the pains of the years have come together in an instant. I feel like yelling at her, cursing her, and maybe picking up my things and going home. My home, for my dad and Nick.

— I have a sister? How did I never know about this?

— Your father tried to tell me, Jennie, but I don't think he ever found the right moment.

  — You are impossible! — I said, leaving the table.

I leave through the back door without saying another word, heading towards the beach. Every step on the soft sand is an echo of my own uncertainties and frustrations. The morning sun seems less welcoming now, its bright colors mixing with the dark shadows that consume me inside.

My mother's revelation still screamed in my mind like a relentless whirlwind. A sister. A marriage she hid from me. How could she? How could my father?

The tears begin to stream down my face, hot and bitter, a silent betrayal of all my shattered expectations. I can no longer contain them, they suffocate me. I cry softly, while the sea murmurs my laments.

How did we get to this point? How did my mother and I become strangers to each other, sharing only the title of mother and daughter, without understanding anything about each other? The pain is palpable, a tight knot in my chest that never seems to loosen.

I huddle in the sand, hugging my knees to my chest. The sea breeze gently blows around me, a gentle caress that contrasts with the whirlwind of feelings within. My mother and I, lost in an emotional labyrinth that we share silently, trying to find a way back, to what was once lost.

I remain there for a while, allowing the tears to purify my pain and confusion as much as possible. I don't know how much time passes before I finally stand up, wiping my face with the back of my hands. The decision is clear now: I need to confront my mother, confront my father, and find the answers that have been hidden from me for so long.

With determined steps, I return home, determination replacing the anguish in my heart. No matter what happens from now on, I can no longer live in the shadow of half-truths and omissions. It's time to discover the truth, no matter how painful it may be.

I enter the kitchen through the same door I left, and see my mother still sitting at the table, with the cup of coffee in front of her, full and untouched. Her eyes lift and meet mine. She tries to say something, but her voice doesn't come out.

— Answer me something. Because you left? — I ask, in the firmest voice possible.

She stands up, standing in front of me, face to face, as if she wants to show that she is willing to face my confrontations, but fear is written all over her face.

— Jennie, it's... it's complicated, honey.

— Can't you really give me an answer? Can't you tell me why you left on my birthday? Can't you explain how you had the courage to leave me behind...?

— Jennie, I... — she gives up completing the sentence and starts crying profusely.

I want to scream at her, to vent everything I've felt all these years, but I'm also at a loss for words, and maybe I need more than a few days to get it all out. All I can do is look away from the window, with the view of the sea that ends up relieving my anger.

I hear voices coming from the entrance of the house, which get louder and louder. My mother gets up and goes into the living room, forcing a smile and fixing her hair, while I was still trying to find my way back to myself, to come to my senses.

A man and a little girl appear, hugging my mother, then look at me. The little girl in his lap and kisses his cheek. My blood boils with this image, because all my feelings begin to suffocate me. I realize that there is no more room for me in that. There never was.

I turn and walk out the back door, running toward the beach, and perhaps nowhere, aimlessly. The damn tears insist on falling again, now more tears. I feel like I'm drowning, entering a deep, dark abyss, without the strength to return to the surface.