Reunited with my mother
1624 Words
Catherine’s POV
Both the man and my ears had to be playing jokes on me.
And an unfunny one at that, because how could I have lived twenty four years of my life without a mother and then suddenly have a mother now?
No matter the angle I tried to see the whole situation from, it still didn't make sense.
"You are not saying anything, miss," Thomas said, and I huffed incredulously.
"Are you an organ trafficker?" I asked, because that seemed to be the only realistic explanation for the whole mess.
"What? I don't quite get what you're implying, Miss," He raised a puzzled brow.
"You target vulnerable women and approach them with this cheap lie of yours, lure them to an unknown destination, kill them, and then harvest their organs, isn't it?" I snarled. "Tell me, how long have you been gathering information about me?"
"I do no such thing, ma'am," He slipped a card toward me.
Begrudgingly, I retracted the card from the table and my eyes gaped when I saw that he was the owner of a large restaurant franchise in Canada and London.
Back when we were in London, Alessandro and I used to frequent MT restaurant during his lunch break.
The restaurant only catered to people of opulence and immense wealth, with their lowest dish costing a little less below a thousand dollars.
Now, I was certain that the price would have drastically increased.
"I'm sorry for accusing you then," I apologized, handing him his card, to which he smiled.
"You don't have to apologize, Miss. I fully expected you to do that," He said.
"So I have a mother, huh?" I snorted.
Although I believed that he was the CEO of MT, I still couldn't believe his other claim.
"Yes, would you like to see a picture of her?" He asked, and I nodded, albeit still skeptical.
Nodding, he placed his briefcase on the table, opened it, and retrieved a photo which he gave me.
On seeing the picture of my presumed mother, the muscles of my jaw slacked in astonishment.
She was dressed in a simple yellow sundress in the photo with a pleasant smile radiating on her face.
It was as if I was directly staring at a mirror.
This was unbelievable.
The only difference was that while I had auburn hair, she had black hair.
"I-I don't even know what to say," I truthfully confessed, as I placed the picture on the table.
This was surreal.
I truly had a mother.
Various questions and emotions tugged at my heartstrings as I stared into the voidness behind the man.
"We have been looking for you for the past fifteen years," The man divulged, and I couldn't help but scowl.
Where was my mother all these years that I had been suffering in the horror of my marriage?
Where was she in middle school where I got bullied for being an orphan?
Where was she on the day of my college entrance examination to cheer me up?
Where had she been during the most important periods of my life?
"So she abandoned me, didn't she?" I blurted out.
The man shook his head, "No, Madam would never do that. However, she is in the best position to answer all your questions."
"Good, because I have many for her," I retorted. "Where is she by the way?"
"Canada,"
I nibbled on my lower lip while I mulled over his response.
Would I be putting both mine and my unborn child in danger by following him?
How was I even sure that his business card wasn't forged?
But then again, a voice in my head countered, he exuded an aura of sophistication plus it wasn't like I had anywhere to go from here.
I could only hope for the best.
"How will we get there?" I asked. "Have you booked the flight tickets yet?"
"There's no need for that, ma'am because we will be flying to Canada in a private jet owned by Madam." He supplied, and I nodded.
My mo-the woman must be very wealthy then.
I just couldn't bring myself to call her my mother.
She didn't and would never deserve that title, no matter what her explanation would be.
"So," I began, moments later as he drove us to the hangar in the airport.
"I'm all ears, ma’am," He said.
"Earlier, you said that woman is sick. What sort of illness is it?" I asked.
"Terminal ovarian cancer," He revealed, and I gasped in shock.
She really didn't have enough time left to live.
"Yes, she doesn't," The man replied, only then did I realize that I had thought aloud.
Great, I was finally going to be reunited with my mother and she had a terminal illness.
The universe must really hate me.
"What are you to her by the way?" I asked. "Are you her lover or what?"
"Of course not," He said. "I'm her assistant and secretary."
"Okay then,"
About an hour later, we soon reached the hangar and I saw the private jet.
It was a huge aircraft which had "OW" imprinted on it.
Then, we boarded the private jet and set out to Canada.
Thankfully, I didn't get nauseous when the plane ascended into the air.
We got to Canada four hours later in the evening.
The woman's house, scratch that, mansion was out of this world.
Just like Alessandro's mansion, it was a four storey building.
However, in place of the modern architectural design of his place, hers was a classic vintage design with red bricks and a beautiful water fountain sculpted in the form of a piano.
When we entered the mansion, a more mind-blowing interior design graced my eyes.
There was a vintage piano under the stairs with various picture frames of victorian era women and men.
Although the house was opulent, it looked soulless.
"She doesn't have maids?" I asked, my voice bouncing across the room in an echo.
"Yes," He responded. "Would you like to meet her now or after you take a shower?"
"Now, please," I said, and he nodded.
Then, we climbed upstairs and stopped at the first room on the left wing of the hallway.
He gently knocked on the door thrice before opening it, and motioning me inside the dimly lit room.
Someone, who I presumed was my mother, was in a wheelchair with her back facing us.
"She's here, madam. I finally found her," He said, and the woman turned immediately.
I couldn't help the gasp that escaped me when I finally saw her.
In contrast to the picture, she looked old and sickly.
She was wearing a pink flowy dress and her head was also covered with an overly large beanie. On her lap was a red knitted blanket that looked worn out with age.
There was a nasal cannula in her nostrils and her face and lips were deathly pale.
"Are you scared of me?" She chuckled; a croaky sound that made my heart break.
"I'll be outside, ma'am," The man said, and bowed before leaving.
My hands trembled in a mix of emotions that ranged from trepidation and sadness to anger.
As much as I wanted to be mad at her, I couldn't do it.
"Did you abandon me?" I asked.
"Yes and no," She responded. "You see, it's a long story but I'll summarize it for you."
"Thank you," I said.
"But please, take a seat," She said. "You must be jet lagged."
"Right," I muttered, and sat on the couch opposite her.
"My name is Ophelia Williams," She began, and for the umpteenth time that day, I gasped.
"That's right. I wrote your name and hid it in the box. I didn't even know that the governesses would name you that," She revealed. "I thought they would cast it in the bin."
"Anyway back to the story, I met your father at sixteen. He was eighteen and was the son of my family's new chef back then. It was love at first sight for the both of us," She smiled. "Let me digress a bit from the story to tell you that he's dead. He died some years back in a car crash."
Even though I never got to meet him, I couldn't help but be saddened by the news.
My mother on the other hand seemed slightly enraged. "He was a coward anyway, so I don't care about him. Anyway, I got pregnant at nineteen and in a panic, he ran away and left us behind. My parents allowed me to have you but on one condition; I would give you up for adoption."
She outstretched her hands and I took it, which made her smile.
"Naively, I accepted their conditions and enrolled in college to study medicine. My plan was to become a successful doctor, look for you, and bring you back into my life. But let's just say, it was tougher than I thought it'd be." She said, and I tenderly squeezed her hands.
"Ten years ago, I was diagnosed with breast cancer which I treated. Five years ago, it came back with a more intense force and metastasized to my ovary," She revealed. "Now, doctors say I have less than a year to live. But now that I've seen you, I will do everything to fight it."
"Oh, mum," I spurted out as tears roamed down my cheeks.
"Mum," She smiled, her own eyes misty with tears. "I never thought that I would hear you call me that. I'm so happy, my child. You have no idea."
That night, my mother and I slept together in her bedroom, tightly clinging onto each other, as if to make up for the lost years.
- Writer
