This work is a fiction.
Today is a good day to take a walk: good weather, sunny day. After locking the front door, I decide to head to the city which is only 15 min from here. Since I live outside of the town, I have to take a rough path with cornfields on each side. I can feel the breeze on my neck — the delicate breeze of a summer day. I like to look at the cornfields: their colour, sparkling under the sunlight, is similar to the colour of Gold — the coveted mineral of many adventurers of the past.
However, today is different. I see something. Small. White. Almost hidden under the corns. I want to see what that mysterious object is — my curiosity will be my fall someday. I leave the path for a moment and jump in the cornfield. It’s an envelope.
What is an envelope doing here? Did the postman drop it by accident? The envelope is a bit dirty, but the name of the receiver and the address are still visible. When I take it, I notice the envelope is half-opened — who knows how long that letter has been standing there?
Once again, my curiosity takes over my body and I decide to open the envelope. I mean.. If it was to be something useless, such as some kind of advertisement, there would be no need for me to give it to the receiver, right? I’m not being lazy, I simply don’t like to use my energy for nothing. It’s a letter. Nice handwriting. The paper seems to be quite expensive.
” Dear mother,
I don’t know if you still remember me, but I hope you still do.
How long has it been since I last talked to you? 15? 20 years? I can’t remember and honestly, my current state of mind won’t allow me to. Do you remember when I was a little girl, when you used to cook so much food for me, when you were laughing every time I complained about it? Do you remember all the nights we spent on the roof , watching the stars covering the sky? Do you remember all the gifts I made at school for you? How I would always say my mother was the best in the world? How I always said I would be like you someday?
I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry… No matter how many times I say I am, I will certainly never deserve your forgiveness. I should never have left with that guy that I thought was my soulmate back when I was a teenager who didn’t even graduate from high school. You told me that I would regret it later and I didn’t listen to you. You were right. Ever since I abandoned you, my life has been nothing but mistake after mistake. My boyfriend was not able to get a proper job, nor could I. He started drinking in bars, and soon enough became an alcoholic. He eventually became violent and I decided to leave. I just couldn’t take it anymore. But I had no house to return to. I was so ashamed of what I’ve done to you that I couldn’t face you anymore.
No money. No car. No house. Hungry. Thirsty. I went from bar to bar, doing anything for money. Anything.
I lost my heart and I lost my soul. I’m glad you are not able to see me at the moment. I want you to remember the sweet little girl that you called daughter, and not the monster I became. I hate what I have become. I have never been able to become like you, and I will never be. I am sorry for being a disappointment.
But today, I will certainly do the only thing that I can be proud of ever since I left you: I will put an end to that misery. You were the only person in which I was proud, and when I learned that you were still living in the same apartment, I decided to write this letter as a goodbye.
I hope you are living a wonderful life, and I’m sorry for being the first one to join daddy on the other side.
Your lovely daughter,
The letter breaks my heart. I do not know who that Lisa is, but I feel sorry for the way she had to experience Life. I wonder for how long she had to handle an aching heart, living a miserable and bitter life. At least, she is not suffering anymore. The mother needs to know. I put back the letter in the envelope, then put it in my bag, before heading to the town.
After following the address written on the envelope, I arrive in front of a big building – red bricks covered by tags made by young people at night, dirty windows, wet clothes hanging on the balconies, kids playing in front of the stairs leading to the entrance door. I enter the building and look for the name of Lisa’s mother: she lives on the fifth floor, apartment 12F.
When I arrive in front of the door, I’m suddenly taken by a feeling of uneasiness. How am I supposed to tell her that her daughter died? And what if she doesn’t even remember her? What if she doesn’t want to hear about her daughter? No, I can’t step back now, it’s too late. I came that far to tell her what happened to her daughter and I will do so, no matter what.
I knock on the door and wait for an answer. One minute. Five minutes. Ten minutes. No answer. I ring the bell. One minute. Five minutes. Ten minutes. Still no answer. I try to open the door and notice it’s unlocked.
A fool odor comes out of the apartment — the kind of smell you imagine you can get if you never clean your room. I fight my desire to throw up, and make my way to the living room. There, an old woman is laying on the couch. She doesn’t look healthy, and her clothes are so old she can easily be considered as a homeless. It seems she noticed my presence because she is getting up slowly. After turning off the television, she looks at me with lifeless eyes.
‘What do you want?’
‘I’m sorry, the door was opened and-‘
‘And what? You came to steal my money? To rob my house? To kill me?’ she replies, quite aggressively.
I was taken aback by her words. It seems like her life has been as harsh as her daughter’s was. I want to avoid making eye contact with her, so I look around. And on the wall are several pictures of a little girl, smiling like an angel.
‘Is it your daughter?’ I ask, wondering if that little girl is Lisa.
‘Yes, she is. I miss Lisa so much..She has been gone for so long, I wonder how she is doing now,’ she answers, almost sobbing.
‘I’m sorry but-‘
I can’t tell her what happened to her daughter, not after what she said. What kind of cruel person would tell a mother that her daughter not only lived a miserable life, but also ended up committing suicide? Maybe some people can, but I can’t.
‘but what?’ she asks, starting to be impatient.
‘but in fact, I came here to talk to you about your daughter,’ I continue, after a moment of hesitation.
‘Did something happen to her? Is she okay?!’
‘Your daughter is living a wonderful life. She is a friend of mine and I happened to come across her while I was eating in a restaurant. She told me about you and how much she is proud of having a mother like you. She asked me to tell you, in case I was to meet you one day, that she was doing fine and that you didn’t need to worry about her anymore.’
The smile I can see on her face as I say those lies is enough to let me know that I did the good choice.
After drinking a cup of tea and listening to her stories about Lisa, I say my goodbyes to the old lady and leave the building.
Lisa, I’m sorry about what happened to you and I’m sure you didn’t want things to end up like that. I cannot do anything for you, but making your Mother proud of you is my gift for you.