"But I am selfish, trying to find a man and dragging Yara all the way across the world."
“Alina, imagine if you had never left the home country. You would be in an even worse situation with Luchenko. Surely you must know that. You must forgive yourself for trying to find a better life for you and your daughter.”
“You warned me, though. You said that Gerald seemed too good to be true, Mama.”
“Yes, but I’m not always right. And at some point, you need to make your own decisions. Just because he turned out to be another evil man doesn’t mean you didn’t make the best decision out of a bad bunch.”
“Why do you never judge me, mama? I feel like any other woman would be so critical of a daughter like me.”
“You’re my greatest pride and joy, Alina. You and Yara together. You burn so brightly and I have every confidence you’ll get through this.”
“What if he just turns out to be like Luchenko and Gerald, though? They started out nice as well.”
“Look in your heart for the answer, my love. You know him better than me, but I think you realize he could never be like them. His soul is that of a good man.”
I let her reassurance wash over me. She's right.
"It's okay to want happiness for yourself too. You being fulfilled is part of being the best mom for Yara."
I nod even though she can't see me. My eyes prickle with tears. After everything, I'm still learning to validate my own needs.
"Thanks, Mom," I whisper. "I think I needed to hear that."
We chat a few more minutes before saying goodnight. I set the phone down, feeling lighter. My guilt begins to lift, replaced by clarity. I deserve joy, too.
The next evening, I'm making dinner while Yara works on art at the table.
She's drawing a picture of the three of us—her, me, and Morello.
Each drawing she does gets more and more realistic, a budding talent that I'm finally able to encourage with pencils and nice, thick paper and other art supplies.
"I want you to be happy, Mama," she says, not looking up from her sketch. "You always take care of me, but who takes care of you?"
Her simple wisdom strikes deep. My eyes well up as I look at her, heart overflowing with love. Even after everything, her compassion astounds me.
I sweep her into a hug. "You're so right, sweetie. I should find someone who takes care of me too."
She grins up at me. "Morello makes you happy. You should call him!"
I laugh, kissing her forehead. My remarkable girl. With her support, I feel ready to reach for joy again. For both of us.
I take a deep breath as I dial Morello's number, my heart pounding. What will he say after all this time? Will he even want to talk to me?
I pushed him away so far after things settled down, I could totally understand if he didn't want to hear from me ever again.
My fingers hesitate over the call button. Doubt creeps in, making me question this impulse. But I think of Yara's drawing, her wish for my happiness.
I press call.
After two rings, he answers. "Alina?" His warm, familiar voice washes over me. "I can't believe it's you."
"Hi Morello." I try to steady my voice. "I'm sorry I haven't called. I just...needed some time."
"Of course. I understand." There's no judgement, only kindness. Just like I remember. "I'm so glad you called. I've thought about you every day."
My breath catches at his words.
We talk tentatively at first, the conversation halting. But slowly we rediscover our rhythm, laughter and memories filling the gaps.