Celestine felt as if she’d plunged into an icy abyss.
With numb fingers, she dialed her daughter’s number. She just wanted to ask what on earth was going on.
On the other end, Celia was hugging her rag doll, nestled up to Joanna as they snapped selfies together. When she saw her mother’s name flash on the screen, her delicate brows lifted, and a flicker of annoyance crossed her eyes.
The phone kept ringing. Joanna nudged her gently. “Celia, your mom’s calling. Aren’t you going to pick up?”
Celia shook her head. “Ugh, Mom’s such a nag. If I answer, she’ll just bombard me with questions. I don’t want to talk to her!”
With a quick swipe, she declined the call. Then she turned to Raymond, grumbling, “See? I told you we shouldn’t have taken Mom off the blocked list. Look how little time it took for her to start calling nonstop again. I don’t even know what you’re so worried about.”
“I’m not worried!” Raymond retorted, though the irritation on his face betrayed him. “I just thought maybe Mom forgot to say something important. You’re the one who took her off the
list!”
Honestly, he wished their mom would just wait a little longer before calling. This was so embarrassing.
Celia pouted. “She never forgets. Once she starts talking, she never stops–she’s so annoying.”
Back in Portside City, Celestine used to call them twice a day–once at breakfast, once at dinner–meticulously reminding them about everything from what to eat to what to wear. At first, they missed her and even looked forward to those calls, clinging to the routine. But as time went on, they built their own circle of friends, and with Joanna’s company, their
enthusiasm waned.
The twice–daily calls became one. Then, conversations rarely lasted more than ten minutes before the kids would find an excuse to hang up. In the past couple of days, they hadn’t bothered to answer at all–instead, they’d just blocked her number.
As the screen of Celestine’s phone faded to black in her palm, a cold emptiness seeped through her chest, snuffing out what little hope she had left.
What was she still holding on to?
Suddenly, a violent fit of coughing wracked her body, and she tasted blood. The driver, alarmed, slammed his foot on the gas and raced toward the nearest hospital.
Back at the house, Raymond watched as Celia finally finished taking pictures with Joanna. Tugging awkwardly at the hem of his shirt, he muttered, “Celia, can you take a picture of me, too?”
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14.09
Chapter 12
When their mom had made these pajamas, he’d actually liked them a lot. But the little bear on the front wasn’t exactly a boyish look, so he’d pretended it was childish just to save face.
He never imagined that, thanks to Miss Sinclair, he’d get the chance to wear them again before he outgrew them. And Miss Sinclair had even complimented him: “Ray, you don’t always have to be the little hero. Sometimes it’s nice to just be cute.”
Raymond’s cheeks flushed. “If Miss Joanna likes seeing me in them, I’d wear them every day.”
The new pajamas weren’t just cute–they were soft as clouds and unbelievably comfortable. Honestly, when Mom wasn’t being so overbearing, she really did make nice things.
He could at least let her see a picture of him wearing them.
“Geez, why didn’t you say something earlier?” Celia scolded, glancing at her brother. “Miss Joanna just went to get some milk.”
Raymond opened his mouth to explain, but Celia misunderstood. He didn’t want a photo with Miss Sinclair–he already had plenty. He’d wanted one to send to Mom…
“What are my two little rascals chatting about?” Joanna’s gentle voice floated over from behind
them.
Raymond spun around, startled, and collided right into her.
“Ah-!”
Joanna let out a surprised yelp as the glass of warm milk in her hand spilled all over Raymond’s pajamas. The cute bear on his chest was instantly drenched and stained.
Celia shrieked, too, and shot her brother a glare. “Raymond, how could you be so careless and bump into Miss Joanna? Apologize right now!”
Raymond stared down at his soggy pajamas, feeling a wave of embarrassment and resentment, but still managed to mutter, “Sorry, Miss Joanna.”
Joanna noticed his unhappy, but not guilty, expression. A glimmer of understanding flashed in her eyes–so it was the pajamas he cared about.
She reached out and gently ruffled Raymond’s hair. “Ray, I should be the one apologizing. I startled you, didn’t I?”
Raymond looked up, surprised, and shook his head. “No, it was my fault. I wasn’t paying attention.”
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