Zephyr's Promise

32

Her head full of curls is tilted back. The camera captures her uninhibited smile. Not for the first time do I stare at the pixelated picture. One of many in which I have forced my brother to send me. Torturously I lap up each one he sends without shame. Like a glutton for punishment I consume everything about her. The bright smile on her brown skin. How tightly she holds her stomach from laughing. The peacefulness stolen from her the last time we were together.

Pretending the happiness on her face is meant for me is much easier than remembering how I left her. Envisioning the dip of her mouth in a tight frown haunts. Remembering how she had held her hands up in pleading surrender rubs me raw. An alarm of error rang loudly in my ears and still I didn't heed the warning. Refusing to bow down to something or anyone.

Angelo: Leave me the fuck alone. Stop bothering me to bother her, believe it or not she's fine.

That was the last text he sent me accompanied by the most recent photos of Nile. Pretty soon I am sure my brother will stop answering my calls or texts. Each time he brings up Costa and what we will do to assist him I abandon the conversation. Mainly because when I think of Costa I think of Nile. And thinking of her always pushes me to a place of desperation. Leaving me to rely on my brother for updates on her life. Learning that she quit her job and has decided to work freelance for companies left me lying in self-pity. Not because I was upset that she didn't work for Bianchi Corp anymore. My self-loathing came from the fact that she wasn't the one to tell me the news. I want to be the first person she shares the good and bad with.

"Whose that?" Over my shoulder mama peeks. Curiously her blue eyes stare at my phone. I can see the wheels turning in her head. Drawing her own conclusions usually wouldn't bother me. When it comes to Nile everything seems to.

"No one." I say shutting off my phone. It's useless to lie to myself but no one else will know how deeply affected I am from my time in America. From the one woman who has influenced me in more than one way. I don't even completely understand what it is that she has over me. Compulsively I cling to the memories of her small pleased smile when satisfied. Or the clinching of her eyebrows when working.

Those are the thoughts that must remain with me. The very ones that are proof of my weakness. Fragility that was supposed to never exist for me somehow appeared when I least expected it. With every particle of happiness also comes an opening for my enemies. But the woman beside me is not an enemy. No, she's something far worse. A mother. My mother.

Lightly she taps me on the shoulder. "She has to be someone." Soothing, her voice lulls me to the very memories I have no business reliving.

"Ma." I say with a heavy sigh. If any one could see through me it's her. The one person who encouraged me not to lose my humanity. Our world is cold. Viscous. Easily it taints the purity of all who pass through. Somehow she has been kept uncontaminated. Happy in a sense. After my sessions with Papa she'd talk about the sun and stars. Remain consistent that life is worth living, even with the pain. To her I will always be her little boy.

"What." Innocently she shrugs. "You come home suddenly without reason. While you look the same but also different. Sadder. Except when looking at pictures of that woman." Softly her words land like a fresh drop of snow. Comfortingly direct. Unlike the others, mom always pays attention. Sees through the facade I hide behind. When I held my tears as a kid because it made me weak she still kissed my forehead. And now as I try to act as if I am unaffected she realizes the important truths without needing the full story. "My sweet boy, who is she?"

"She was mine." My jaw clenches. The truth is too much to swallow. "I lost her when I.." Softly her fingers twist in my hair. Reminding me that I am in the comforting protection of my mama. The only person I can admit the dark confessions to. "I left her. I left her for Russia. For our family." Abruptly, the kneading of her fingers stops.