The Visit (4)

she went silent. it was something hard to say, I could tell by the way she clasped her hands together. I could tell by the way she bit her lower lip.

"what is it? just tell me. I would love to do you the favor."

she waited until I finished eating. she knew how would I react to bad news while eating. I would throw up.

after the pecan pie, I looked into her eyes. the eyes were the same since I could remember.  the eyes I looked at when I was scared. the eyes I looked at when I was sad. the eyes I looked at when I was happy. the eyes, with crow's feet so deep.

"dear, I am begging you. please,"

the eyes, the eyes were not looking at me.

"please stop visiting me."

I could feel myself blinked for a few times. I swallowed hard. so hard it felt like I was swallowing sands. it was bitter too.

"but...but why?"

"because I'm dead. you buried me. your father buried me. remember?"

and my mind went back years ago, when I was a teen, when the day just stopped raining like this very day, the day my mother breathed her final breath. and suddenly the day rained back, heavily.

and I just sat there. alone. without her anymore.

and it started to rain again.

.end.