Don't Question Forever

Don’t Question Forever

“Now, you kith tha bwide!”

The tip of the strawberry gently taps the golden flesh of the mango, and a tiny giggle escapes her quivering lips. She brings the berry up to her mouth, and dinosaur-chomps it, the bright red juice leaving a mustache on her olive skin.

“What are you doing, Annie?” A soft arm loops over the little girl’s shoulder, and a pair of luminous, violet eyes, filled with fatigue and affection, fall across the fruit bowl.

“Mama, tha strawbewwy and tha mango getting mawwied!” she exclaims, stressing maanggo the way one emphasizes tango.

There are a handful of strawberries left on the table, surrounded by leafy tops soaking into the precautionary paper towel. Mama sighs with a slight chuckle and grabs an orange pillbox, popping a white cylinder into her own mouth. Ruffling her daughter’s curly hair uneasily, she sighs again and drops onto the fraying couch in a fetal position.

From her resting place, Mama peeks at her little angel through half-open lids. Annie continues to stab at the mango, only managing to force a bit of the fruit onto her fork every time. She gives up after a few more tries, and resumes her fairytale play.

The strawberry speaks. “Mango, I wuv you!”

“Strawbewwy, I wuv you even moar!” Mama snorts almost indignantly.

“We have…hmm…ten babies, okay? Yes!” Annie hums to herself, her face painted with a happy flush, as she chops the remaining strawberries into ten pieces, representing the future babies.

Suddenly, she swivels around to face Mama. “We have ten babies, too?”

Mama is still. Frigid. But her ice mask immediately melts with the warmth of Annie’s hopeful gaze, and she gently replies, “One day, baby girl. One day.”

Satisfied with her mother’s answer, Annie focuses her attention on the fruit once again. “Mango, I stay wif you foreva and eva!”

Forever?

“And I wuv you foreva and always!”

Always?

Mama shifts a bit, and her mouth is washed with a faint smile. The innocence and purity of her young daughter almost amuses her. “Come here, Annie-girl!”

Annie obediently pads over, a wondrous look in her two cornflower blue orbs. Chuckling, Mama brushes off the strawberry mustache and pecks the rosy cheek, getting a tinkling giggle in return. The two snuggle into the coziness of the couch, and Mama closes her eyes.

Poke.

“Mama, you happy?”

“Mm-hm.”

“Okay. Then Annie happy too!”

The sweetness of Annie’s words unexpectedly bring a wateriness to Mama’s eyes, and she blinks hard, surprised at herself. She turns her head and sees the little girl carefully watching her, and quickly smiles in assurance.

“Why you crying, Mama?”

“No, no. I’m not crying, baby girl.”

Annie skims her mother’s skin with her pinky and proclaims, “But my finger shiny, and your eyes shiny! You crying, Mama!”

Mama tries for a huge smile, but Annie is not convinced. She frowns with those tiny eyebrows and hugs Mama fiercely. “Mama, no crying! Crying bad!”

Shakily laughing, Mama nods her head and feels wondrous herself. Since when was her little girl so protective? Maybe she did remember...no, it couldn’t be.

The doorbell rings, and all of a sudden, Mama feels overly nauseous. Annie is already stumbling to welcome the intruder - the door opens - no, Annie, don’t - and then Mama is on the floor, rasping at the stranger to leave her daughter alone. The stranger looks bewildered and Annie is frantically slapping Mama’s cheeks - Mama okay - Mama wake up!

“Please...leave…” Mama gasps at the stranger, who fortunately obeys quickly.

Annie turns and glares at Mama accusingly, and harrumphs, “Mama said Mama happy! But she not. So Annie no happy!”

All strength leaves the woman crouched in a vulnerable ball, and liquid crystals begin to drizzle from the windows of her soul. She finds it strange that the words of a toddler could have such an effect on her. Warily, Annie squats down and pats Mama’s cheeks, whispering, “No crying, Mama. Crying bad.”

And then Mama slumps and blubbers, all the while being mopped up by her daughter’s chubby hands. The situation is so ridiculous that she almost guffaws, but the sound comes out more like a frog croak.

“Mama...betta?”

“...I think so.”

“It okay Mama. Annie here!”

Mama sniffs.

“Mama?”

“Yes?”

“Annie wuv you. Foreva and eva and eva!”

“Mama loves you forever, too.”

“And Annie stay wif you - foreva and always.”

The purple eyes that were once so luminous are dimmed, but loved. 

Forever and always.