Chapter 9
Three years later, I was nineteen years old and admitted to Fairmont University of Law & Public Affairs.
Mom was back to full health. She opened a tiny flower shop right next to the hospital, out in the suburbs. She always said she’d smelled enough lilies for her lifetime, so her shop only sells daisies and sunflowers.
On the day of school, I dragged my suitcase through the campus gates all by myself.
The September sunshine bathed the law school building in a golden glow.
As I was filling out the forms at the new student registration desk, My phone buzzed.
A news notification popped up.
[Michael Stone, former CEO of Stone Holdings, has been admitted to the hospital for long–term depression and has resigned from all his positions. Sources say he’s tried to reach out to his ex–wife and daughter several times in recent years, but was rejected every time.]
There was a photo attached. Michael sat in the hospital garden, his hair completely grey, gaunt beyond recognition. On his lap was a picture frame, but it was too far to make out whose photo it was.
I stared at it for a couple of seconds, then turned off My phone.
“Who should we put as your emergency contact?” the senior at the registration desk asked.
“Rachel James,” I said.
“And she’s your…?”
“MOM. She’s My only family.”
The senior smiled and stamped my form. “Welcome to Fairmont.”
I went to the dormitory, dragging my suitcase. The hallway was buzzing with the laughter and chatter of new students. Some were calling out to their roommates for help with their suitcases, while others were on the phone, letting their families know they’d settled down.
Sunlight streamed through the window at the end of the hall, slicing the floor into alternating patches of light and shadow.
I moved forward, letting my steps dance across those light patches.
When I was sixteen, I lost My Dad, but I saved my MOM. These three years were not stolen time. I earned them fair and square.
At the end of the hall, my roommate poked her head out and waved at me. “Hey! Are you Nina Stone? Come on over, I saved you the bed by the window!”
I couldn’t help but break into a smile. It was the brightest, most heartfelt smile I’d given since I’d been reborn.
[People ask me if I hate those who hurt me. I tell them no. Hate is like a rope that keeps you tied to the past. You can only move forward once you let go.)
[I spent three years learning to let go. Now my hands are free, just right for embracing a new life.]
By Nina, nineteen, autumn.