The Innocent Lover

Epilogue

Two years later...

"Are you done already?" My mother asked as she hurriedly plated my food.

"Yes, yes. I need to be at work early today, we have to finish the article today or else we're toast". I grabbed the half-filled plate, "Thanks, this will do".

"But-"

"It's delicious," I mumbled whilst molesting the tacos.

Ever since her return from prison, my mother was getting better and better. As of now, she had made growth enough for her to realize that my dad was also a victim of this mess and he had no choice.

Although I still felt conflicted by it from time to time.

"Don't forget you have a therapy session today with Polite okay?"

Mom revealed a toothy grin. " I have it on my to-do list," she said.

" Good or else I'll tell Lucas you're wasting his money".

" Go ahead. That boy dotes on me, he won't do anything to upset me," she replied, the toothy grin growing with every reply.

Her face was now full and young again, and she was lively. Thanks to Lucas we had managed to make her attend therapy and it worked in all the right ways thank goodness.

" I will tell him," I warned.

A hearty laugh escaped from my mother and I couldn't help but smile. This was what I had been dreaming of since childhood– to spend quality time with my mother, even when I had only two minutes to spare before leaving for work.

A knock sounded on the door, and we both knew who it was who vandalized the property just by using her knuckles.

"Come in,"  came the command from my mother.

I heard the sound of the door opening and in came Mary dressed for work in her pinafore.

Her eyebrows rose high and so did her eyes. " You're still eating?!" She asked.

"What does it look like I'm doing? Shitting?"

"Okay sass mouth, I'll leave if you still try and use that time with me".

"Please don't leave her," Mom interjected, "she hates driving".

"Morning. I won't leave her, but I'll think about it if she won't filter her mouth," Mary replied.

I smiled. "If I had known it felt this good to be a sass mouth, I'd have done it a long time ago".

"Well, you're a late bloomer. That's all".

Mom furrowed her brows. "What does that mean?".

"It means she's slow at picking things up," Mary said victoriously.

"My daughter is not!"

Aah. Seeing my mother defend me and get angry with me was another one of those moments I had wanted to experience since childhood.

Mary raised her hands in the air in protest and made her way back outside. "I didn't mean no harm," she said playfully once outside.