chapter five

I headed back to the living room to find her admiring the pot of red roses mother had gifted me when I got this apartment as my 12th-year birthday gift. My mother is a dominant person in the house, and her presence is rarely felt. Her only duties are to serve my father, accompany him to functions when necessary, and communicate his wishes to us.

You can imagine how everyone would go to their mother when they are sad or dejected for comfort; it is not the case for my brother and myself. She is simply a great wife but not someone we can rely on because there is nothing, she can do to help us.

Her eyes always look sad, like there are a million tales of sadness behind them. Growing up, I used to wonder what the problem is and ask her, but I have grown accustomed to seeing her sad eyes, which she always masks with happiness whenever she has to appear in public. But the moment she is back home, she blends perfectly with the furniture.

She always gives me weird gifts on my birthdays, like a flower pot with a short message on it. I still remember the little note on the rose simply read: “be careful with the thorns”. My last birthday, she gifted me a cactus that reads: “mother’s love”. I had wanted to puke when I saw that but simply tossed the cactus to another corner, leaving it to the butler to arrange it properly when he comes around.

Rita noticed my presence and commented, "I never knew someone like you would like flowers". I replied curtly, although I had wanted to ignore her, but I could not bring myself to do that since this was the first time, she is trying to have a proper conversation with me.

“I don’t like flowers; my mother simply gifts them to me for my birthday,” I responded.

“She must really love you,” she declared.

I would have agreed more that she likes flowers, but there are no flowers in the mansion, so I cannot be too sure. Or maybe she is not tending to them because father probably does not like them, and she is fulfilling her desires through me. I rambled.

“Why are you keeping them then if you think so?” she questioned.

I looked at her but could not say the answer out loud. I have been keeping those flowers because I keep getting the feeling that she is probably trying to pass across some messages with those notes, and I have probably been too consumed in my own pain to understand them.

I had promised myself that I was going to crack through this puzzle this year if she tries to send me another flower. Although she did, I have been too busy tending to my brother to have any time to invest in that, so I still haven’t been able to decode the message.

“Do you like red wine, or would you like something else?” I responded, trying to change the topic, and she simply rejected.

“I told you I don’t want anything,” she said without sparing me a glance.

I looked at her, sensing that she wouldn't budge regardless of what I said. So, I opened the wine, poured some into a cup, and downed it in one gulp.

"See, can you take some now?" I urged, but she scrutinized my actions, searching for signs of discomfort or deception.

Pouring some wine into her glass, I raised it to her, but she showed no sign of accepting it from me.

"Come on, just take it already. Do you think I'd drug it and conveniently drink it myself? Can't you trust me?" I muttered in frustration.

"You haven’t given me a reason to trust you, and it's better for me to not add fuel to the fire when I’m about to be burned," she replied calmly.

Frustrated, I sat down, dropping the wine and the bottle on the table. I looked at her seriously. "It’s better I explain myself to her, that way, she will be able to protect herself too."

"Look, I know you might not want to believe me, but I brought you here for your own sake. If I had left you back there for a minute, you might have found yourself in a worse situation than the club I mentioned earlier," I explained.