Missing Rose (9781101603864) Read Free Page B

months ago, however, from the moment the doctor had uttered these few words, many things in Diana’s life had changed.
    â€œWe’re going to lose your mother,” the doctor had said.

4
    T HE KITCHEN WITH its medicine cupboard seemed so far away. Every day, the house appeared to grow larger and larger to Diana; the distances from the living room to the kitchen, from the kitchen to the bedroom and from the bedroom to the bathroom were all getting longer. For a month now, she hadn’t gone down to the basement where the swimming pool was located, nor climbed to the top floor with its terrace and art studio, so she had no idea whether the ways there had become longer, too. Nor did she have any desire to find out.
    When she finally reached the kitchen, she poured herself a glass of water and drank it in one gulp. Then another. And a third, this time with two aspirin dissolved in it.
    She journeyed back to the living room. As she headed for the sofa once again, her phone rang. It rang a second time, a third, a fourth . . . After the seventh ring, she decided to answer it.
    â€œHappy birthday to you! Happy birthday to you! Happy—” howled a young man’s voice.
    Diana immediately cut the connection, and threw the phone onto the table.
    Was it true? Was it really her birthday? Why did anyone have to remind her of that?
    In the past, she always used to count the days till her birthday and make plans for it in advance, preparing a list of people to thank afterward in the order they’d feted her. And the first name on that list had always been her mother’s.
    This would be the first birthday she would spend without her. The first of all the rest of her birthdays.
    Her eyes filled with tears.
    She went to the cabinet and searched through several drawers before she finally found her diary. Sitting on the floor, she opened it and began to write.
    Â 
    My beloved Mother,
    You said you were always with me . . . If you are, then why do I miss you so terribly?
    I just learned that today is my birthday.
    Oh, Mom . . . Where are you?
    Forgive me, Mom, for not having replied to you sooner. It’s just that this is the first time I’ve opened my diary since you went away.
    No, I’m not angry with you because of your confession. Maybe in the beginning I was a bit cross, perhaps even a little bit heartbroken, but it didn’t last long. I’m sure you had good reasons for keeping the truth from me.
    But I’m sorry, Mom, I never searched for Mary. I’ll never forgive her for causing you to live your last days in worry and fear. And—can you believe it—I didn’t even read her letters. Maybe she’s already been dead a long time. Forgive me . . .
    You know what hurts the most, Mom? Because I broke my promise to you, I feel like I can’t even keep you alive in my heart. Everything always reminds me of you, but this only makes it all worse. I feel like I can’t remember you in peace . . . If only she hadn’t showed up, things wouldn’t be like this.
    And I’m not interested in knowing about that man, either. I’m sure you had every reason to believe that he was as good as dead to both of us.
    Anyway, let me answer your questions, Mom . . .
    Today is the last day of school. I’ll still be graduating among the top three of my class. The ceremony is on 19 May at 5 p.m. You can’t imagine how much I wish you could be there . . .
    To be honest, I haven’t been taking my evening walks. But don’t worry, I’ll start again as soon as I feel less tired.
    As far as my job applications are concerned, last week two of the best law firms in the city offered me a job. They both want an answer by the end of the month, but I haven’t decided yet which to accept.
    I know, you’d tell me to turn them down and become a writer instead. I really wish I could do that, Mom. But you know