where we belong

3 'believe in me

Sunday morning, it's been three days since I woke up. No visitors, just my mom and every day she enters the door I could see that there's something wrong going on.

I hesitate to ask and she tries to hide it.

"where's dad?" I ask quietly, "work?"

"Yeah, work." She hesitates once more.

"look, mom, I'm not 10, I know there's something wrong going on so if you please say where my dad is and why he never visits? Or anyone else does!" I say with frustration.

"nothing, I told you. He is just busy! You know your dad," she says.

"No, I do not know. His daughter burnt her hand and her gallery was eaten by flames, but he has work to do?" I sigh, "that doesn't sound like my dad, so where is he?"

"he... he can't see you now, but he will call. Trust me." She said not giving me the chance to talk back, "now, do you want to read some magazines or what?"

She tossed me one and I rolled my eyes, "why don't you ask them to come and fix the t.v.? I've read these magazines, twice each!"

"Okay, I will see what I can do about it," she said playing with her phone.

Seconds later, the doctor came in and my mom excused herself with the lie of, "I need to get something from my car," to go somewhere and smoke, like I can't tell by the smell that sticks to your body like glue.

"so, how are you feeling today?" he asked his usual question while examining my hand as I keep my eyes shut.

I couldn't look at my hand after that day when I saw it for the first time without the white cooling cover. It was ugly. Like a lizard's skin with lots of pink burns.

"bored." I simply said as my eyes fell on the newspaper on the coffee table, " can you please hand me the newspaper?"

"sure," he grabbed it and scanned it really quick.

*

A kid swallows a key and his babysitter saves his life. I read.

"God, how did he swallow a key that big?" I say looking at the gross looking key and the little boy, "kids nowadays are scary!"

The way the writer put the story together was funny but professional at the same time. I flipped the paper for the rest of the story, but it wasn't there.

three pages were missing. Someone ripped them off, I thought as I saw some pieces of the missing pages still attached to the rest of the newspaper.

"Ugh!" I pressed on the nurse-calling-button thing and she came in in few seconds.

"needed something young woman?" she was not the nurse I'm used to. In fact, she wasn't even a nurse. She was the cleaning lady I saw once.

"I have today's newspaper, but some papers are missing. Can you get me another one please?" I show her the incomplete papers and she nods.

It took her second to run outside and grab new ones for me.

"thank you," I say and she smiles then leave the room.

*

I ran my finger between the lines, the story of the key kid didn't interest me anymore. My brain can't keep up with my eyes see, dirty laundry, owner of largest bank, jail, through paintings, were the words that echoed in my head, ' daughter as a partner in crime?' were the words in a bold red.

I heard the door being open then my mom's high heels getting closer and not fast enough she rips the pages and hides them behind her back. I see her struggling, how to explain this to her? She thinks.

"your father is okay." She manages to say in a low voice.

I don't know what expression I had on, but the moment I open my mouth to say something she started crying.

"You never believed in me," I say, this time not like the young teenaged me who would make it look like a question, you don't believe in me? It was a statement.

"Everyone who attended the exhibition was your clients?" I asked although I already knew the truth.

"no," she say and I yell, "lies."

"the papers.." I let out a little sob, "it's written in the papers," I cry.

"they made out of their daughter's WORTHLESS ART millions that flew all over the country." I read as my mom kept shaking her head with a 'no'.

"I'm sorry," she cried, wrapping her arms around my head and holding it close to her chest.

Although it was my mom's chest, it wasn't warm.. not this time.

It was suffocating me.

"where is he?" I asked, making a promise with the inside of my head not to call him 'dad' again.

"away, I don't know." She hesitated and I could see that it was another lie.

I lied back resting my head on the white pillow.

"selfish." She said after a long silence, "we made all of this for you, but you're never grateful. Always expecting the worst from us." She simply threw words my way, "I'm telling you we might lose everything, but you only care about yourself. What about your father? And me?" she spoke nonsense and I only listened.

"I'M TELLING YOU IT HAD TO BE THIS WAY, WE WERE LOSING EVERYTHING!" she yelled throwing the things on the coffee table, the used cups, the old magazines and her expensive purse.

She wanted me to react, it's been minutes since I lied on my pillow, not saying a word. I think she expected the words, 'thank you, what now? Where to go?'

*

Emma not only lost a gallery, but also her family. I don't think she can ever trust them again if she really had no idea about what her parents were doing behind her back. After all, all she did was play with her colours and make an 'Art'. -the words of the 10 o'clock news reporter, Anne Green.

That night, Emma needed her black box to hide in until it was all over.