Total pages in book: 92
Estimated words: 90852 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 454(@200wpm)___ 363(@250wpm)___ 303(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 90852 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 454(@200wpm)___ 363(@250wpm)___ 303(@300wpm)
“She wasn’t alone, Monique. Jing was with her.”
I sniffled.
For that I was grateful too.
“She didn’t want to worry you.”
Pissed, I closed my eyes.
A minute later, I felt Leo’s heavy hand on my shoulder. “I know it’s hard to hear, but your mother thought she was doing what was best for you.”
I opened my eyes.
My heart ached some more as I touched the photo and traced the outline of my mother’s face.
Why didn’t she tell me?
The garden’s beauty was captured in the background.
I knew for a fact that I would go right to that spot in the garden and sit there. . .with the hope that. . .I could just. . .feel my mother’s energy again. . .
Lost in overwhelming grief, my confusion spiraled into a vortex of questions.
I cleared my throat. “So. . .Mom decided not to do the treatments and then what? H-how did I get involved and pulled into your whole Mountain Mistress scheme?”
“That will take more explanation.”
I shrugged. “I’m not going anywhere until I know everything.”
Chapter nine
Blueprints of a Mastermind
Monique
“Okay, Monique.” Leo ran his fingers through his hair, looking beyond sad. “Jing decided to take your mother on outings during the time of her treatments. The helicopter was always on standby to take them here and there. They went to parks, the beach, museums, concerts, and even an amusement park.”
Unable to stop myself, I smiled. “That’s. . .good.”
“My wife cared for your mother deeply. She wanted her last days to be filled with happiness and adventure rather than hospital visits and pain.”
I looked back at the album and began flipping through it again. My fingers barely grazed over the surface of the photos.
To my shock, there was one picture of my mother on a roller coaster, hands thrown in the air and a scream of joy evident on her frail face.
I chuckled and cried at the same time, not even knowing that was possible.
Mom. . .
And there was another one where she was at the beach, building a pitiful sandcastle with Jing.
Their laughter was almost audible through the image.
“Wow.” My bottom lip quivered.
Leo looked in pain as he glanced at the image and pointed at the edge. “And who is that, Monique?”
I leaned over.
There, Lei stood several feet behind our mothers on his phone and in a designer blue suit, completely out of place at the beach.
Leo let out a long breath and turned away from the image. “Sometimes Jing would force him to take them places, she thought Lei worked too much. That beach moment is one of those days where she figured he would relax for a few minutes.”
“But Lei never switched off from Mountain Master mode,” I finished for him, understanding the dynamic. I couldn’t help but laugh through a fresh wave of tears at the surreal image.
Lei was around my mom and had no idea. Jesus Christ.
Leo and I fell into silence as I continued to leaf through the photo album. There were more pictures, each one capturing Mom and Jing in various instances of life and joy.
Finally, when I reached the end of the album.
The photo wasn’t of them. Instead, the final photograph showed a distant view of my sisters and me dressed in black at my mom’s gravesite.
Other people had been walking away—family and friends.
But we were right there, watching the casket go into the hole. . .devastated.
T.T. held my hand.
Chloe looked like she could barely stand.
Jo with huge sunglasses to hide her red teary eyes had her hands in her black suit’s pockets.
We’d already cursed our father out by the time this photo was snapped.
And. . .I remember that moment so well because. . .part of me had wanted to jump right in that grave with Mom. . .so fucking terrified of truly being able to take care of my sisters all by myself.
Unsure if I would ruin their lives.
That memory struck me with a gut-wrenching intensity.
Staring at the photo, I grabbed my chest. The phantom pain of that moment made me gasp.
“She should have told us,” I breathed out, my voice barely more than a whisper. “We could have. . .We could have. . .”
The words died in my throat as grief clenched it tight.
The possibilities of the things we could’ve done began to surface in my mind. Maybe. . . we could’ve shared in her joy or we could’ve been there to hold her hand during those adventures or we could’ve made our own memories with her at the beach and at an amusement park.
But she had chosen to keep us in the dark.
That thought sent a fresh wave of tears streaming down my face because in the end. . .I knew all my earlier thoughts were bullshit.
We would have forced you to do the treatment if not by guilt, then by Jo and I arguing with you. That’s why you didn’t tell us, Mom. You knew we wouldn’t have accepted your choice.