THE TWENTY-SEVENTH & TWENTY-EIGHTH pt2

Voices disturb me from my deep slumber, and it takes me a couple of moments to place their familiarity. My mum and dad. I can hear weeping and I keep my eyes closed, not ready to face what I will see.

“It is all my fault, Michael,” I hear my mother saying softly. “I told her I blamed her for Mamma’s death. How could I do that? What kind of a mother am I?” I hear my father shushing her and comforting her, and I can imagine in my mind’s eye that he has his arms wrapped around her, his head on hers, an embrace I have seen so many times growing up.

“Gina, it is going to be fine. Abby has a big heart and I know she will forgive you eventually, but you need to pull yourself together and be strong for her. She needs you! You are her mother, and you need to start acting like it.”

The snuffles slowly subside, and when I think enough time has passed, I slowly open my eyes. “Hey,” I croak.

“Abby!” My mother is on her feet, hugging me fiercely, wiping tears from her eyes. She pulls back and looks