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She’s here. I thought she’d be at her grandmother’s and sent men to watch over her. Completely unknown to her. I didn’t want to freak her out. I didn’t expect her to see me tonight because it’s so late. It’s two a.m.
I don’t like her being on the road at this time and definitely not with everything going on.
I walk into the living room and find her over in the corner by the window. Just like weeks ago she’s crying.
She looks to me when I move over to her and practically flies into my arms.
“Salvatore…” she cries and I hold her.
“What’s wrong babygirl?”
She shuffles out of my arms and picks up an envelope that was next to her. She opens it and shows me a picture of her mother and the old State’s Attorney.
The minute I see that I know we’re in for one long night.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Mimi
“Baby, tell me what you need,”Salvatore whispers into my ear.
I can’t answer him. All I can do is shuffle my head and bury my face in his chest as he holds me.
He’s holding me as I cry. I hate crying like this, the kind where you lose control and the tears just flow from your soul.
This only happens to me for her. My mother. And the same man who was there for me the last time I cried like this is here for me now.
I cried like this at the funeral. Dad left me. I was twelve years old and he just left me.
I remember feeling so lost until warm hands covered mine. Warm hands in the rain that felt like ice water being thrown over my body.
It was Salvatore. He was there for me then and he’s here now doing the same thing, holding me, holding me and keeping me from slipping out of reality. The same feeling that flowed through me then is back now.
It’s a weird feeling I can’t quite find the words to truly describe but if I were to try I’d say that the feeling is like some type of warning. Something singing to me, telling me something isn’t quite right.
Something primal and instinctual.
She always told me to follow my instincts.
Always, no matter how bizarre the feeling.
Mom told me I should go with that prickling sensation that could spike your nerves.
My instincts never let me down once.
Not once. Always when I went against those feelings I’d end up suffering in some way, or on the wrong path.
Something would go wrong somewhere.
This was the second time in my life that my instincts were screaming at me and I questioned myself. Questioned facts because what my instincts were telling me were different to what fact showed me.
Both times were in relation to my mother.
The first time was when she died. I found the suicide note. I found it in the library at home.
It said she was sorry but she couldn’t take any more. She couldn’t live another day in the house.
It looked like she was going to continue her words but didn’t. There was no full stop after that last word. Mom was particular about things like that. I figured though that when you’re about to die, punctuation is the last thing you worry about.
