My Dad Brought His First Love Back

After that, Mom started meeting with a lot of men in suits.

Lawyers. A notary. People from the bank.

She had me sit next to her. She wanted me to watch her sign.

Sometimes she'd take my hand and guide me, letter by letter, writing my own name.

"Nina, write it nice. You're going to need it."

"Mom is building you a road."

I did what she said, even though I couldn't read a word on those papers.

Mom's hair was falling out faster now.

There was a clump on the brush every time.

She'd ball it up and flush it down the toilet, on the sly.

She thought I didn't see.

I saw.

Dad figured out Mom was moving the assets.

He found a stack of papers under the coffee table.

His face went black and he stormed into Mom's bedroom and threw them at her.

"Helena! How much have you been doing behind my back? Are you trying to clean me out?"

He grabbed her wrist and squeezed it till the veins stood out.

Mom's wrist was thin as a twig. One twist and it would've snapped.

She didn't fight him.

She didn't cry.

She just looked up and met his eyes, cold.

"What are you worried about? This is mine and you know it. If you think you're getting cheated, go l check the receipts on what you've spent on Fiona these last few years."

His hand dropped.

He stood there, breathing hard, like a cornered animal that just got kicked where it hurts.

Then he stormed out.

The door slammed hard enough to rattle the windows.

Mom looked at the red mark on her wrist, rubbed it, and went back to her papers.

That night I climbed into Mom's bed.

Her body ran cold now. Her hands and feet were freezing.

I pulled my own little blanket over her and held onto her arm.

"Mom. Grandma's up there. She'll show you the way. Don't be scared."

Mom's whole body started shaking.

She pressed her face into the top of my head and sobbed, quietly.

That was the last time she ever cried in front of me.

After she was done, she wiped her face and said,

"Nina. Mom has maybe two months left with you. You need to remember this. Whatever Mom set aside for you, no one gets to take it. Not even Dad."

I nodded.

Two months.

I counted on my fingers.

That's still a long time.

The school had a music recital at the end of the term.

I'd been picked to play piano.

The teacher said parents should come.

I came home and told Mom.

Her eyes lit up. I hadn't seen that look on her in a long time.

"Okay. Mom will be there. I promise."

Then I went and told Dad.

Dad grunted without looking up. He was on his phone.

"Got it. We'll see."

The day of the recital, Mom put on a pale blue dress.

She'd done her makeup, trying to cover how sick she looked.

But you couldn't cover how thin she was.

The dress just hung on her, like it was on a hanger.

She was already short of breath when she walked.

From the parking lot to the auditorium, she had to stop three times.

I held onto her arm and we sat in the very back row.

"Mom. Is Dad coming?"

Mom looked at her phone. She didn't answer me.

When I went on stage, I scanned the audience.

Mom was in the back, smiling, waving at me.

The seat next to her was empty.

I played Für Elise. I played it clean and didn't miss a note.

The audience clapped.

When I bowed, I saw Mom wiping her eyes.

After it ended I ran offstage to find her.

She wasn't in her seat.

I found her by the auditorium door.

She was leaning against the wall, bent over, coughing hard.

There were a few dark red drops on the floor.

"Mom."

She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and smiled at me.

"Nina, that was beautiful. I got the whole thing on video."

She held up her phone. There I was on the screen, playing.

The picture jumped around the whole time.

Because her hands had been shaking the whole time.

Then her eyes rolled back, and she pitched forward.

I screamed and lunged for her, but I was too small. I couldn't catch her.

She hit the floor, and her face caught the edge of a step. Her forehead split open.

Teachers and parents came rushing over.

Someone called 911.

I knelt next to Mom, wiping the blood off her forehead with my sleeve.

Crying the whole time.

"Mom, get up. Mom, don't scare me —"

I took Mom's phone and called Dad.

It rang for a long time. Finally he picked up.

It was loud on the other end.

Someone was playing guitar. People were singing.

Fiona's laugh was closest to the phone.

"Daddy. Mommy's bleeding. Mommy fell down. You have to come!"

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