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Damian grabs hold of my hands and squeezes them, then gets a serious look on his face, making me frown.
"Your mother is outside the gate with your father, and my parents. They want to talk." I freeze. Mila is downstairs with her uncles, who are still competing for the No. 1 position of favorite uncle. I can't do this, it's too soon.
Damian takes hold of my face between his hands.
"Forgiveness baby, we've been going on dates, enjoying time together again, just like we did when I used to pick you up from school. We’ve reminisced without the pain of what I did, and we've been taking Mila out, much to Alexandr's and Sergi's disappointment," he says with a chuckle, causing me to smile. A few tears leak through, and he wipes them. "For the past two weeks, we have been learning to forgive and move forward, having more deep talks with Marvin so we can be better and stronger than before. But, baby, this is the one thing you haven't managed to do. I know it's hard; they fucked up, they broke your trust when you needed them the most. But this will be good for you—to get it off your chest and hopefully help you heal so we can focus on being a family. Please, baby…."
I sit for a couple of minutes, and he lets me have my silence. I sigh, knowing he is right, then nod.
"Mila stays downstairs. If I don't think it's the right time after hearing what they have to say, then they leave without causing a scene," I say sternly, and he nods, then kisses my head and turns to let them in.
I head to the kitchen to make a pot of tea and a carafe of coffee. By the time I have everything laid out on the table, the parents come in, following Damian. After pulling my chair out, he takes a seat, and the parents sit on the opposite side. I notice my parents holding hands, and I can't help myself. I melt, but only a little; she still fucked up with me. We sit in silence for a few minutes until, shockingly, my mother starts the conversation.
"Know I don't deserve it, especially not as much as these three, but I'm here to ask—no, beg—for your forgiveness for what I have done and how I treated you." She takes a deep breath. "I know I haven't been a good mother to you for the past thirteen years, and I know I can never make up for what you went through, and I know I will never be able to forgive myself for letting you go through that, for pushing my pain onto you instead of confronting or just leaving your father as I should have.
You are my daughter, and I failed you all because of my lack of communication with your father," she finishes with a sob, and I look down. I don't want to feel sorry for her, but I can't help it. She's still my mamma, and I know she doesn't deserve it, but I think she might need my forgiveness more than I need to forgive.
So many times, over the years, I thought she was trying to kill herself; the heartache my father caused was too much to bear. And I know, without a doubt, that each time she cheated, she was completely drunk, and that pain was killing her. Knowing what she had done the next morning, drinking became her new normal, her way to forget. I look at my father, his eyes full of pain and sorrow when he looks at my mother. I furrow my brows, then look at her again. I notice bruising on the top of her hands, my medical knowledge coming into play. I know my worst fears were realized, and what she tried to do.
A tear leaks down my cheek as I ask, "Why?"
She sobs, realizing her truth is not as hidden as she wishes. I'm not asking why she treated me the way she did; I already know. I'm asking why she would want to leave us.
"Because I couldn't bear being on the same earth as you and my granddaughter, knowing what nearly happened to you because of me ,and what could have happened to her if you didn't have the courage to leave as you did." My heart breaks while she has a complete breakdown right in front of me, barely able to sit up straight in her chair, her body trembling with uncontrollable sobs. I give in, unable to watch my mother release years of unbearable pain.
I get up and rush around the table. I lean over her and wrap my arms around her, holding her against my chest.
She whispers, "I'm so sorry, so sorry," as she grips my arms, rocking back and forth. I just hold her tighter.
I look at my father. His eyes shine, trying to keep his tears in. I hear a sniffle from Maria.
My mother starts to talk, stuttering, "A-am go-going to get h-help. I'm go-going to rehab to-tonight. I-I promise, I'm-I'm so sor-sorry."
I hold her tighter, my tears falling with hers. My father stands and wraps his arms around us, and I rest my head on his shoulder. I forgave my father a few weeks ago, after his confession in Damian's office. Am I still hurt? Yes, but I can still forgive. I just didn't dare to let him meet his granddaughter yet because of my mother. I didn't want it to push her over the edge, not realizing she’d already plummeted.
I look up at Damian, his eyes glassy. He gives me a sad smile and a little nod, knowing what I have to do. I untangle us and crouch down near her chair. I place my right hand against her cheek, then wipe my own tears with my left.
"Mamma?" She looks at me, and the pain in her eyes almost killing me. "Would you like to meet your granddaughter before you leave for rehab?"
She shakes her head, and my heart hurts for her.
"I can't. I am no good for her." My father goes to say something. I know he really wants to meet her, too, and so do Damian's parents, but I beat him to it.
"But what if she wants to meet you? Will you deprive her of her nonna? This could be something to give you encouragement you need to get better, so you can have a relationship with her, and do all the things you used to do with me at her age." More tears fall as hope starts to fill her eyes, and she nods as another sob escapes.
I turn to look at Damian and, without me having to ask, he gets his phone out. My father kisses my mother gently, then stands near Dimitri and Maria, so Mila goes straight for my mom when she gets there. I stand and clutch her hand to support her. I look toward Damian's parents, who both have tears in their eyes, and I know I can trust them.
Forgiveness,I breathe out in my mind, and I smile, feeling lighter.
We hear stomping feet as Mila comes up the stairs from the basement, bringing my attention back toward my mother. Mila sees her first, and her eyes light up. I have always told her about the good times with my mom, so many stories of laughter and love, and I always hoped that woman would return.
Mila screams, "Nonna!" and she runs to my mamma. I let go of my mom’s hand as Mila jumps into her arms. I hear Maria cry at the same time my mother does. My mom clutches Mila tightly and looks up at me, mouthing “thank you,” tears running down her face. I nod, knowing that she doesn't just mean letting her meet Mila, and I go back to my seat.
But before I can sit, Damian drags me into his lap, holding me tight around my waist.
He whispers, "I'm proud of you," in my ear, before kissing my temple. I nod again as we watch my mother sit and talk with Mila.
Roughly ten minutes later, my father has had enough of being ignored and decides to make himself known.
