Daughter of a Rose

Une

The day started like any other beautiful summer day.

Happy, lively almost.

But I paid no attention to any of it. I felt no heat of the summer sun. The chirps of the birds outside didn't faze me into breaking out singing like everyone's favourite Disney princess.

I couldn't bring myself to smile, not even a fake one.

Today was my mother's funeral.

...

"Rose, we'll be happy to take you in for a while," my aunt Margarita squeezed my shoulder.

I couldn't do more than wipe my tears away and nod.

"Don't worry hermanita she's coming with me," my uncle Victor put a kind arm around my shoulder. He looked down at me with a warm smile, holding back his tears and I didn't feel alone anymore.

My mother was his favourite sister and they did everything together until he married a bruja.

He could have had any woman in the world, but he chose a bitch with no heart whatsoever.

"Mi amooooooooor," she called in a disgustingly sweet voice.

Here she goes. I rolled my eyes and my uncle chuckled.

"You couldn't have chosen a more terrible person to be your wife couldn't you tio," I whispered under my breath. He burst out laughing.

"Your mother used to say that to me all the time," then he pointed to his phone, "just you wait, but for now, you are the only one who knows that I'm filing for divorce."

"You lie," I said with a grin.

"I do not," he returned with his toothy grin.

"What are you guys talking about?" she asked with a mock accusation, but anyone could see the glint of disdain in her eyes.

"Nothing of your concern tia," I gave a tight smile and I walked away towards the house. I could hear her and my uncle start to argue.

I walked slowly towards the house, dreading the flood of memories of my mother.

She was my protector against anyone who dared to tease me because here is my main issue; my weight.

This is why most people form prejudices against me. Because I'm not perfect. My mother protected me, she stood up for me. Now, I'm on my own.

I can see why my aunt thinks I'm disrespectful now. I was always silent, shy. I never lifted a finger against her when she would go out of her way to make me miserable, but now, I simply don't give a flying fuck.

I look up at the sky as I get closer to the back sliding door. The sky is still clear and bright. A pang in my chest as I remember the colour of my mother's eyes. When my dad was alive, he used to compare her eyes to the colour of the sky all the time. It was his preferred compliment towards her.

I wipe at another tear as I enter the house. I look around but everything is draped with sheets. The pictures aren't on the walls anymore. Only the walls are the same.

"Rosie, come, tell me what you think," my mother beckoned.

"What is it, mama?" I asked.

She smiled and said, "Help me pick a colour, I want it to be special for when your father-"

She was interrupted by a knock on the door.