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We were both silent, but this wasn’t awkward. This was a silence that didn’t need any words to communicate. I knew he understood me and what went through my head.
After spending months in Florence, it felt strange to be back home. I felt strange, like a stranger instead of someone who spent her whole life in this city. And I think I was a stranger.
I was no longer someone who needed to hide her feelings. No longer a nobody.
I wasn’t afraid of holding Zeke’s hand as we drive.
There was nothing that would’ve stopped me from leaning over and kissing him.
I was free.
“We’re here,” Zeke finally said, and I took a deep breath before opening the door.
Zeke took my hand in his as I walked on the grass.
When we finally stopped walking, I didn’t know what I was expecting to feel or what I was supposed to.
I read what was written on the stone.
Amanda Wyatt
1970-2016
RIP
If I was still Maya, I knew I would be both sad and angry, maybe even relieved that she was dead. But this new me, Beatrice was in peace. There was no hate I was afraid of feeling toward her any longer.
I heard she was found dead from an overdose when I was in Florence. It was predictable for her, I guess. I felt empty when I first heard the news. I searched for anger or hate toward her, but there was none.
That was how I understood that I had never hated my mother. I pitied her, but she wasn’t the one I hated.
I was angry at the situation we were all in.
I was angry she made Maya related to Zeke.
I despised her for putting me between her and the only thing I wanted from life.
But it was Maya who felt those things.
I think, I forgave her the moment I became Beatrice. Because I was free of the things, we couldn’t control. I was free of the rules others set for me.
Closing my eyes, I smiled sadly and touched the stone.
“I know you were just trying to d
eal with life, just like I did. I loved you mom, even when I thought I didn’t. I hope you’re happy where you are, because your girl isn’t sad anymore,” I whispered and sighed when Zeke pulled me to his chest. “We can leave now,” I told him.
“Do you want to visit your dad?” he asked on the way back to the car.
My dad was in jail. He got into a bar fight which ended with someone’s death. It was as predictable as my mother’s death, I guessed. But I didn’t hate him either, even though I didn’t feel like his daughter.
Did I want to see him? Maybe.
But that would be a risk. I didn’t want anyone to know who I used to be. And my father wasn’t someone I could trust with a secret like that. He knew I was dead and I wanted it to stay that way.
I finally shook my head. “No. I don’t want to see him. Let’s go home.”
Zeke studied my face before finally nodding. He knew I was positive with my decision.
