I sighed as I stare at the full-length mirror my mother's family had since the 1800s. It's the most expensive thing we own in my mother's middle-class family according to her.
It's been passed down from generation to generation but the beauty of it remained.
The fine wood didn't rot or got stained and the flowers that were carved at the side wood of the mirror as a design never got a scratch or any damage.
The mirror remained beautiful despite the years that has passed.
My stepmother told me to cover it because we are gonna sell it, For a very high price. And even though I want to keep it, my stepmother talked to my father and made him agree to it.
Even though it's not theirs to sell. I hope she just one day falls down somewhere and die. And knowing that the worst people lives the longest I have low hope for my wish.
It annoys me because I know what she's trying to do. She knows my father still loves my mother so she's trying to get rid of everything that my mother once owned.
I wanted to tell her to "Stop acting like a bitch, you've been married to my father for only a year."
But, my father threatened me that I will get kick out if I disrespected his "wife".
And for that, I started to hate him as well. I was always there for him but he's choosing to push me away just so his new wife won't leave him.
"So, it's goodbye then," I said as I walk towards the table to take the cover for the mirror.
That mirror grew up with me, I remember vividly that when I was seven my mother used to take me all the way up to the attic and braid my hair in front of it.
It's a very pleasant memory to remember. I miss my mom. She loved that mirror and because of her, I love it too.
My breath hitched when I return in front of the mirror. I went closer and examined it.
"I'm pretty sure there wasn't a crack on it earlier." I talk to myself as I place my hand on the crack.
What the heck? I dropped the cover and ran down to the kitchen to inform my stepmother. I'm sure she's not going to like it.
"Silcia, the mirror has a crack on the upper right," I inform her as soon as I entered the kitchen.
She looks away from the disgusting soup she's making and glared at me.
"What do you mean it has a crack?" I raised my eyebrow and look at her with confusion.
Silcia is ten years younger than my father and I never truly liked her. And I want to tell her "It has a crack, but don't worry it's not the crack that your son has been snorting so fuck off." But I figured she would lie and tell my father that I was being disrespectful and laid hands on her so I decided to keep my mouth shut.
I know that my father will pick her no matter how unreasonable and dumb her reports to him.
"It has a crack check for yourself." She rolled her eyes and started walking to our attic.
"You bitch." I heard her mumble as she passes my side and it made me ballistic but kept it to myself. I don't want to be kicked out, I want her out. And her son, not me.
I follow her up to the attic and I can sense she doesn't like me following her.
Don't give a fuck.
She opened the door and we went inside.
I stood in front of the door as she went and check on the mirror. She leans forwards to the upper right of the mirror for a second before looking at me with annoyance.
"There's no crack." She points at the part I saw a crack earlier. I shaked my head and squinted my eyes.
There was a huge crack what the fuck is this bitch talking about?
I walk towards the mirror and to my surprise, there wasn't any crack.
"You know, I'm not your mother to play games with. And no matter what you say everything that once belonged to your mother will be sold. I don't want anything that reminds Marco of her." She then eyed me from head to toe.
I know she said "Including you." Inside her probably sixth grade graduated brain.
She purposely bumps on me as she walks out of the room. I grit my teeth as I sat in front of the mirror. Can't believe my father picked to marry a bitch.
"Mama, I miss you," I said as I hugged my legs.
"I wish you didn't leave." A tear escaped from my eyes but I wiped it quickly. I don't want anyone to see me weak.
I am not, my mother didn't raise me to be a weak woman.
I stood up and decide to spend time in the attic a little longer since I have nothing else to do. I walked around and when I got bored checking the old things we have around our attic I decide to look outside of our triangular window and saw an old man walking towards our door.
He was holding an envelope. I know Beatrice would tell me to get it so I sighed and went down before she could even call my phone.
I opened the door and the same old man I saw walking earlier stood in front of it with his hands on his side. With the envelope on his left.
He wore a black suit and from his looks I could tell he's Italian. I smile and he smiled back.
He looked normal but, I find it weird that he didn't actually ring the doorbell. It's as if he knew I would open the door from him.
"Good afternoon sir." I greeted him and he laughed.
"You do look like your mother." He said and it surprised me. Mother? How does he know my mother?
"Excuse me sir?" I asked, not knowing what he's actually saying. He pulled out a picture of my mother from his suit and my eyes teared up.
I don't know if she never took a picture or father hid all of hers but it's the first time I saw a picture of her.
And it's been long since she left me. I miss her and the seeing a picture of her makes me unbelievably happy.
"You are an exact copy of her, from the chocolate brown eyes and sculpted face. You really do look like my daughter.