In Pieces

21 | One Last Wish |

Buzzing... Something buzzed in my ears. I waved my hand to shoo the annoying sound and raised my head.

"Mom?"

I was on my knees, and she stood in front of me—scowling at an old paper and lighter in her hands.

Sobs... Someone was sobbing—a slender guy in blue jeans and a white t-shirt. He was crying by the mirror...

The mirror! Mom was going to kill me for breaking it—

Wait, it was still in one piece, leaning against the makeup table's feet.

I stood up as my confused gaze lingered on the stranger. I'd never seen anyone cry like this... He was pouring his heart and soul through his eyes. His shoulders shook, his face was a red mess, and his dark, tousled hair was stuck on his forehead.

The room's lights were on, and the moonlight streamed through the windows behind Mom's bed. I swear it was morning when I walked into this room, broke the mirror, and... What happened next? Had I fallen asleep? Did I miss my eighteenth birthday?

I brushed my fingers against my burning cheek—water... Had I been crying?

"Is it done? Did you do it?" Mom spoke.

The guy nodded and wiped his runny nose with the back of his hand.

"What did he do?"

My question made him sob again. Was he the one who repaired the mirror?

Crap... Mom found out I'd broken it and hired this guy to fix it, didn't she? And she probably slapped me in front of him... That would explain the tears and all.

But then, what was up with the paper and lighter in her hands?

Mom sniffed and held the flame under the paper.

The guy wailed and reached for the scroll as it caught on fire.

As the warm, red wind licked our faces, something churned and started heating in my stomach, like acid—a horrible heartburn...

Mom laughed and held the flaming paper away from the screaming guy. "You are my djinn! Mine! You'll get back in the mirror and renew our contract."

A djinn? Wait, did the burning scroll screech?

It was official. I'd lost my mind. Loose screws, our cook would say.

"Miranda, please! Stop! I did what you asked! I always did!"

As the flames danced around the paper, the heartburn reached a pitch that made me want to howl and scream with the guy.

Mom threw her head up, laughing.

It was now or never.

I reached through the fire, snatched the scroll and threw it on the bed. Then I rolled the bedsheets over and sat on top of it.

Ahh, much better. My stomach was all better now.

The guy groaned and fell onto his knees, still sobbing. At least, he didn't scream anymore.

He raised his head and—wow... I'd never seen eyes as bright as his, filled with moons, stars, and a warm, familiar glow.

He wiped his face with relief and buried his head between his knees.

Mom growled like a wild wolf, hurled me to stand, and pulled me down to earth.

"He is mine!"

"Mom? Are you okay?" I gently touched her arm.

She stopped shuffling the bedsheets and whipped a glance at me.

"Have you been crying? I've never seen you cry before," I continued, brushing some hair away from her red face.

Mom's brows shot up in surprise. "I—umm... I'm okay."

"Why don't you breathe for a moment?" I suggested and helped her sit on the bed. "Did you go to the hairdresser this morning? Your hair looks lovely."

It really did. She had the best hair—thick, dark, shiny waves that flowed down to her waist.

"Yes, I did." A smile blossomed across her flustered face, and a couple of tears rolled from her heated cheeks. I wiped them as I sat beside her and opened the bedsheets. The scroll's edges were burnt and crunched, but it was still in one piece.

A subtle buzz filled the room as I opened the paper and peeked at what was written inside it. Darting a gaze at the desperado crying in the corner, I closed and held the scroll securely on my lap.

"I'm sorry I broke your mirror." I turned to Mom. "Where you hit me still hurts, but not like it used to—maybe it's because I'm eighteen today."

Mom reached for my face. I smiled, took her hand, and gently placed it between us, keeping mine on top of hers.

"Mom, I think you need help."

She shook her head.

"I think I do too." I sighed. "I don't remember much about today."

Mom bit her lips.

"Dad and I have been gathering some doctor names—"

"No!" she barked, hurling her hand away from my touch.

I shook my head. "I won't allow you to hurt me anymore, you know... I'm leaving for college in a few weeks. And honestly, I'm not sure if I want to be back again."

Her eyes shed silent tears like they never had as I stood up. She seemed smaller than the woman who scolded me about my flip-flops this morning. I gave her head a pat and made my way to the door.

"I'm going to go find Dad now," I announced, stopping at the treshold. "Look, I never wished for anything on my birthdays. But today, I wish you get the care you need soon."

I tapped the wood and dragged my gaze from the lonely woman on the bed to the sobbing guy in the corner. My heart hurt more for him than it did for anyone else.

"Gio? Is that your name?" The scroll in my hand quivered at the sound of that peculiar word.

Keeping his gaze on his knees, the guy raised his head and nodded.

"Can we talk?" I asked, eying the warm roll of paper in my hand.

He wiped his eyes and stood up.

"Bye, Mom."

I slipped my hand into Gio's and guided him out without turning back for a last glance.