Chapter 8
I was buried beneath the magnolia tree that Rebecca and I used to visit as children. Spring had arrived with everything coming back to life, and flower buds were already sprouting on the branches.
Rebecca came early, wearing my favorite white dress, sitting on the grass with a cake to keep me company.
I gently leaned against her, closing my eyes to feel her presence. She always carried that pleasant scent of laundry detergent— clean and pure.
Rebecca seemed to sense my presence and began talking to
herself.
She told me about the unpleasant things and interesting stories in her life, as well as news from my family.
From her, I learned that both Sonia and Oscar were now in
prison.
The boy Sonia gave birth to was dumped on Yoseph to raise, but the paternity test showed the child wasn’t his.
Yoseph’s company had gone bankrupt, and he was now living in a daze.
She smiled, seeming to have emerged from the shadow of losing
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- me.
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“Rebecca, you’re here so early.”
A voice came from behind as my parents and Yoseph arrived late.
They also brought cake and delicious pastries—all the things they used to secretly buy for Sonia when we were little. Now I was receiving but I felt no surprise, no gratitude, not
these to even a ripple of emotion.
“Not easy! Really not easy!”
Rebecca flopped down on the grass, a blade of foxtail grass between her teeth, resting her head on her arm as she teased.
“Really not easy! You actually remembered Freya’s birthday.”
“I thought your brains only had files on Sonia stored in them.”
The three being scolded all hung their heads and fell silent.
I couldn’t help but chuckle. When it came to sharp tongues, Rebecca was unmatched–her little mouth was like it was coated with honey.
Seeing them arrive, Rebecca packed up her things to leave.
My family placed all the food in front of the headstone, sharing
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their innermost thoughts with me. My mother had cried so much that she was now completely blind.
+2 Bonus
Their bodies were hunched, and they walked with trembling
steps.
Yoseph, who should have been in his prime, now had a full head of white hair, weathered by hardship, no longer resembling the man I once loved.
As they talked, my mother began crying again.
They had to help her leave. In front of the headstone lay mango popsicles, pretty little dresses, and a beach vacation photo with me photoshopped in, all neatly arranged alongside that necklace.
So my parents did know what I liked and wanted as a child.
They also knew that children could be hurt, but they just kept ignoring it, delaying, turning a deaf ear.
“Freya, Sonia really got her comeuppance–her words came back to haunt her. When she faked cancer, now she actually has it and won’t live much longer. She’s getting chemo every day, and all her hair has fallen out…”
“Freya, Oscar has already been executed.”
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