Flowerless Love

11 YEARS LATER

Blonde or brunette? I was debating which wig to throw away first when my phone alarm went off. I grabbed my sparkly pillbox off the desk. Only one more week, and I’d be pill-free. I could make it seven more days. A few days after that, I would finally start college. I could start dating. A new school would mean new people who didn’t know about the cancer. I’d meet boys who wouldn’t look at me with pity. It would be a fresh start for both me and my mom. Especially for my mom. Lately, she’d been anxious. At first, I thought it was because of my upcoming test results. She always feared the cancer would come back. Then I’d learned the truth: my mom was dealing with a stalker ex-boyfriend. I guess we could both use a break from the sick and crazy.

I heard a crash in the kitchen and rushed down the stairs. My mom had dropped a glass. Shards were scattered across the floor and she was already reaching for a broom. When I saw the ill-concealed panic on her face, my stomach dropped.

“He found you again, didn’t he?”

She didn’t look up when she spoke, “Pack your bags, Krissy. We’re leaving in five.”

No, no, no. Not again. “But mom… I don’t understand. Why don’t we just go to the police? They could—”

“I already explained this to you. He has friends at the police department. Judges in his pocket.”

“But—”

“I said go, Kristina.”

Feeling deflated, I went back up to my room and slammed the door. My mom was everything to me. She’d been with me through thick and thin and never made me feel like I was a burden. I knew it wasn’t easy being a single mom. I expected it was both a relief and a curse that she worked from home as a graphic designer. It gave her freedom to use her time the way she wanted, which sadly had mostly comprised of hospital visits with me. It also meant that she had hardly any social life. So when she told me she’d met a guy, I was ecstatic for her. Who would have guessed that a boring accountant named Edwin could turn out to be such a nightmare? I pulled my “getaway” duffel bag from the back of the closet and grabbed the baseball bat next to it. I’d never met the guy, but if I ever did I’d break every bone in his body.

It still gave me chills when I thought back on that evening months ago when I’d found my mom battered and bruised in the bathroom. She had believed I was asleep and was already trying to cover herself up with make-up.

With a reluctant sigh, I grabbed my books off the side table. I never went anywhere without my favorite; a collection of fairy tales by the Brothers Grimm. The original ones of course, not the Disney version. No matter how sick or sad I was, whether I was puking my guts out from the chemo or my hair fell out in clumps, I could always count on these stories whisking me away. It was the small things in life that made me want to keep on living it.

I suddenly remembered that I’d left my phone in the kitchen and slowly, as not to disturb my mother, went back downstairs. She wasn’t in the kitchen anymore but the floor was pristinely clean. I heard muffled sounds from her office. She was clearly on the phone. Unable to fight my curiosity, I pressed my ear to the door.

“I don’t care who you are. I said I need to speak to your boss Kostya, right now.”

Whoever was on the other end of the line didn’t give the right response, because my mother took in a deep, ragged breath.

“Did you tell him it’s Irina? His mother’s best friend? What do you mean, you can’t talk to him right now? Fine,” my mother snapped. “If he can’t bother to come to the phone because he’s indisposed, I’ll go to him myself.”

I heard her slam the phone on her desk, which was my cue to make myself scarce.