THE OLD MEMORIES

At the night, I’ve cancelled another moments of mother-daughter night, and my mom stops by my room.

“So Mina, are you okay honey?" she's caressing my face, concerned-look.

“I’m sorry that I've cancelled our night, Mom. I’m just feeling out of sorts and I don't know why. I-i'm just tired.”

She immediately presses the back of her hand to my forehead, checking my body's temperature.

“Mentally, not physically,” I clarify. I can’t get the image of Mystery Girl’s hand on Chaeyoung ’s shoulder out of my mind. It's freakin' disturbing and I don't like that scenes.

She nods but doesn’t even remove her palm until she’s satisfied that I’m not feverish.

“So,” I say, prompting her. I really wanna be alone. I hope she understand my suffers. I'm almost had enough of this life.

“I was a teenager once honey and I'm also the only child so I was very lonely. I understand your feelings. I find that being a teenager is quite painful. Not all of our youth tend to be wasted. But every person has a different ways of living.” She says, sounds hurting.

Then is it because of that she is here? Because she thinks I’m lonely? Because she thinks that I’m having some sort of teenage angst?

“I'm not lonely, Mom,” I snap.

“I am alone. Those are different things. I'm not lonely but I'm always alone. You won't ever understand that.”

She flinches but doesn’t retreat. Instead, she lets go of whatever she is holding and caresses my cheek until I meet her big round eyes.

“I know, baby girl.” Her hands are behind her back again.

“Maybe now is not a good time for you. Do you want me to go?”

She’s always so reasonable and understanding. It’s hard for me to get irritated with her.

“No, it’s OK mom. I’m sorry. You can stay here with me.” I pull my legs up, making room for her. “Seems like you're hiding something. What is it Mom?” I smirk, trying to lift up my mood for her.

“Oh you caught me early honey! Nah, I brought you a present. I thought it would make you feel less lonely, but now I’m not so sure about that but still I hope my baby will like it.”

She pulls out a framed photograph from behind her back. My heart squeezes inside my chest. It’s an old photograph of the four of us—me, my mom and dad and brother—standing on a beach, some place-looks-tropical. The sun is setting behind us and whoever took the picture used the flash and so our faces are bright, almost glowing, against the darkening sky.

My brother is holding on to my dad with one hand and clutching a small brown stuffed penguin with the other. For the most part he’s a miniature version of my mom with her same straight black hair and dark eyes. Really, the only difference is that he has my dad’s tan skin. If he's still alive, I'm sure he will be the hottest guy in our town.

My dad’s wearing a matching Aloha-print shirt and shorts. Goofy is the only word I can think to describe him. Still, he’s so handsome. His arm is wrapped around my mom’s shoulder and he seems to be pulling her closer. It's so romantic, seeing Mom being so happy in his arms. He’s staring straight into the camera. If ever there was someone who had everything he wanted, my dad was him. It was perfect.

Mom is wearing a red, strapless, flower-patterned sundress. Her damp hair curls around her face. She’s not wearing any makeup or jewelry. Really, of course she looks younger but she looks like an alternate universe version of the mom sitting next to me now.

She seems to belong on that beach with those people more than she belongs stuck here in this room with me. She’s holding me in her arms, and she’s the only one who is not staring into the camera. Instead, she’s laughing at me. I’m grinning that silly, gummy smile that only babies can smile. Such a blessing life that I had.

Her voice is almost a whisper now. “You were just four months old, before we knew why you were always sick. It's a month before the accident.”

I clutch the photo to my chest. My mom’s eyes fill with tears that don’t fall. Beautiful and strong woman.

“I love you baby,” she says. “More than you ever know.”

But I do know. I’ve always felt her heart reaching out to protect mine. I'm always hearing to lullabies by her voice. I can still feel arms rocking me to sleep and her kisses on my cheeks in the morning. And I love her right back. I can’t imagine the world she’s given up for me. I will never get to hate her. Never.

I'm speechless with a mixed feelings. I don’t know what to say, so I tell her that I love her, too. It’s not enough, but it’ll have to do. She wipes her tears, preventing from falling. She smiles, wake up and kiss my forehead.

"Goodnight, honey."

Right after she leave, I stand in front of the mirror holding the photograph next to my face. I take a look at myself in the photo, and looking back at my reflection at the windows glass and look at it over again.

A photograph is a kind of time machine. I close my eyes, imagining that I'm there. My room seems to fades away, and I’m on that beach surrounded b