Chapter44
I had expected a formal, impersonal environment, but instead, I’d found a supportive and encouraging community that felt like a big, extended family. Their warmth and kindness had been a pleasant surprise, and I felt grateful for the way they welcomed us with open arms. As I added the final touches to the cake.
I stored the cake in the refrigerator to chill and then headed to freshen up. A warm shower and a change of clothes worked wonders for my mood. I slipped into the Ivory Pink dress I had purchased during our last outing to the mall- a lovely perk of this facility was the freedom to come and go as we pleased, despite being in a private treatment program.
It didn’t feel like we were confined or restricted in any way. The dress hugged my curves in all the right places, and I felt a sense of normalcy washing over me as I got ready to celebrate Wilona’s special day. A swipe of lip gloss and a spritz of perfume later, I was ready to join the party and make some unforgettable memories with her.
As I turned around, Wilson emerged from the bathroom, freshly showered and dressed, his eyes locking onto mine with a warmth that made my heart skip a beat. His gaze swept over me, taking in every detail, and for a moment, he forgot to blink.
“You look gorgeous Leo,” he whispered, his words dripping with sincerity. The way he looked at me, with such admiration and adoration.
“Thanks,” I replied softly, my gaze drifting to the mirror to see if the familiar flush had risen to my
cheeks.
But as I looked, I realized that while I might appear flustered and surprised on the outside, the usual flutter in my chest, the spark that once ignited when Wilson admired me, was noticeably absent. It was as if my heart had grown numb, its responses muted, and I couldn’t help but wonder if I’d ever feel that way again. I quickly looked away from the mirror, focusing instead on the present moment, on the celebration we were about to share with Willy.
“Mom, can you make me a Dutch braid, please?” She requested, her voice sweet and endearing. I nodded, chuckling to myself as I remembered her declaration just yesterday that she would wear
her hair down today.
But her lovely locks were long and luscious, and keeping them untamed was a challenge she usually preferred to avoid. I smiled, happy to oblige her request, and began gently braiding her hair, the familiar ritual a comforting moment for both of us. As I worked, I couldn’t help but think about how far she’d come, how strong and resilient she was, and how proud I was to be her mother.
With the help of a few friendly workers, whom Wilson had promised a generous payment, we transformed the spacious room into a vibrant celebration space.
Balloons, streamers, and colorful decorations adorned the walls and tables, creating a festive atmosphere that was sure to delight Wilona. Finally, we brought in the pièce de résistance – the
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magnificent cake, carefully placed on a prominent table, its coral frosting matching Willy’s dress perfectly. The room was now ready for the guest of honor, and I couldn’t wait to see her face light. up when she saw the wonderful setup.
“Mom, Dad, come,” Wilona called out, her voice filled with excitement, as she grasped our hands, pulling us together to cut the cake.
I felt a surge of emotion as I gazed at my little family, my heart swelling with love and gratitude. But amidst the joy, a pang of guilt and sorrow struck my heart, and I couldn’t help but feel a lump form in my throat. Tears pricked at the corners of my eyes as I thought about the imperfections of our family, the struggles we’d faced, and the normal, happy family Wilona deserved but never had. I pushed the thoughts aside, focusing on the present moment, and the beaming smile on Wilona’s face, determined to make the most of this special day.
The party had been a resounding success, filled with laughter, and cherished moments. But as the evening drew to a close, Wilona’s energy began to wane, and we gently guided her through her nightly routine and exercises.
By the fifth month, I wasn’t able to do much about feeling bored, thanks to the comforting facilities and abundance of free time. I talked to my parents and Wilson’s parents sometimes but there’s a possible limit you could speak to people, with nothing but Netflix series to pass the time, I grew frustrated, feeling unfulfilled and vacant.
I had formed friendships with some of the other parents at Willy’s therapy sessions, but I wasn’t the type to get extremely close to strangers quickly. We’d hang out occasionally, exchanging stories and support, but I didn’t feel comfortable taking it to the next level – like visiting each other’s apartment.
I wasn’t a fan of books or movies, so my options were limited. But then, one day, Wilson walked into
our apartment with his arms full of art supplies, and I was astonished. The unexpected surprise was a breath of fresh air, a welcome distraction from the monotony. Paints, canvases, sketchbooks, and colored pencils spilled out of his arms.
It was as if he had read my mind, intuitively knowing that I needed something more, something spark my imagination and bring me back to life. His thoughtful gesture was a lifeline, a reminder that even in the most mundane moments, beauty and inspiration could be found.
“What’s all this?” I asked, my voice tinged with surprise and curiosity, as I eyed the array of art supplies scattered before me. I took a step closer, my hands instinctively reaching out to touch
them.
The colors and textures seemed to dance before my eyes, awakening a long–dormant creative spark within me. I looked up at Wilson, searching for answers, and found him smiling, his eyes shining with a knowing glint.
Chapter44
