"You can't just take her away from me Veronica. She's my Flower to. We helped her grow, and I want to be there for when she's a mature beautiful rose with thorns, because if she's anything like you, that's exactly what she'll be."
Beautiful, but if...
Trigger Warning: Before you read, please know that this is only a story. This chapter and the next one talk about abortion. I respect everyone's beliefs. This may be triggering for some. The intent is not to offend anyone. If you wish to continue, please read on.
New York City Veronica
My fingers cramp from curling them like I did to my hair. Drenched in stress sweat as we wait for the elevator to ding open. My mother has done well for her self it seems. It's not a condo or anything, but the apartment isn't a dump. Thankfully Andrew rubs my shoulder. "You're fine baby. You look gorgeous."
He always soothes my fears. Rolling them out like bubbles in dough. It's bitter here. The leaves have changed to brown, red, orange, and yellow. I've missed everything autumn. It feels like a welcomed hug as the wind gusts around me. I'm snug with a heavy cardigan over a cream colored sweater, scarf and brown boots.
Flower wears something similar. Andrew surprisingly wears a flannel instead of the leather jacket I'm so used to seeing him in. Checkered, red and black with a beige hood. He looks good, but that's no surprise either. The man looks stunning in anything, everything.
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We approach her room number. Each step the floorboards creek. Old building I suppose. Cigarette smoke has lined the walls with yellow gunk. The scent seeps through the walls. I wonder if Andrew craves the toxic habit. Adjusting myself, I take a deep breath before knocking. Just be natural, don't force it.
After a minute I go to knock again. Maybe she isn't home. Are we at the right place? What if she is home, but recognizes me and doesn't want to open the door? Oh god my thoughts are rambling. "Who are you?" I didn't even notice her answer the door. Her hair is cut short, sharp at the edges. Platinum blonde just like mine with the purest, deep clear water eyes.
Pink lipstick patches her mouth. Dressed in jeans and a sweater. She's a pretty woman. I clear my throat. "Veronica Cooley."
Her jaw drops. Tears instantly sting her eyes. Not because of the cigarette smoke either. "Ronnie? That you?" She pulls me in and I can't help but cry. This is what having a mother feels like? Held in her warm embrace. We hold each other for a short while. "Oh please come in. I'll brew some coffee, tea, anything you like."
Following her inside, it's your typical New York pad. Small, cozy, but flavorful. It's clean in here. I feel at ease bringing my daughter in. It's crisp, like taking a bite out of a freshly washed off apple. "Sit sit sit."
"Wait, this is Flower, my daughter, and Andrew, my boyfriend." I wanted to say husband, but that's a lie.
Her smile spreads far and wide. "Beautiful little one, hi. I'm Vanessa, but you can call me Nessy. And you are handsome son. Wow Ronnie, you have a beautiful family. I see you've done well for yourself." If only she knew.
