Chapter 8
The summer camp ended after a month.
I happily went to the airport to pick up Antonio, only to find him looking at me and my mom with nothing but disgust and disdain.
Roxanne looked over complacently when he wrapped his coat around her and said with concern, “Roxanne, take care of yourself. Don’t worry. I’m always with you.”
My heart broke when I heard his words.
The green light was on, and the car behind me blared, dragging me back from my memory.
I collected myself, no longer having any feelings for Antonio.
As I drove forward, the sun shone on me. It was so bright, just like my future life.
Three years later, I entered the global documentary competition as a Gold Award winner.
After the competition, I signed autographs for all the fans who came to congratulate me.
During these three years, I continued to devote myself to charity and documentary work. Together with my colleagues, I traveled almost the entire world, documenting a large number of endangered species.
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It was already midnight when I finished my work.
Back at my villa downtown, I was so sleepy I could barely keep
my eyes open.
When I saw a man standing in the front yard of my villa, I clenched the taser stick in my hand. These years of adventures abroad had made me subconsciously wary of all strangers.
The streetlamp lit up because of my movements. Hearing sounds, the person turned around.
Only then did I realize it was Antonio, who had just been released.
He wore a buzz cut, and one of his eyes turned blind.
His cheeks were sunken, and his brow bone was broken, like he had been beaten up. Also, he limped on his left leg and stood all crooked.
He seemed to realize that he and I were now from two different worlds.
“Grace,” he said softly, his hoarse, deep voice filled with guilt.
I said nothing while looking at him calmly.
He wasn’t surprised; maybe it was because he had known I’d react like this.
Swallowing hard, he took out a necklace from his pocket, where there was a baby face on it.
He rubbed the pendant with his coarse fingers before smiling self–mockingly.
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“I know I don’t even deserve to give you this gift, but I do love the baby.
“I’m a bastard. And I can never make it up to you. Before I was locked up, I bought a gave for our baby.
As for this pendant, I bought it with the money I earned from working at a construction site after I got out of prison. It’s clean
money.
“Grace, I won’t beg you to forgive me, as I know it’s impossible. I just want you to take care of yourself.”
Suddenly, he coughed a few times, and when he looked up again, I saw blood oozing from the corner of his mouth.
He wiped it away casually and continued, his voice soft, “I deserve this. The doctor said I had terminal lung cancer. I only have three months to live.”
With that, he placed the necklace gently in the mailbox in the yard.
Rubbing his hands, he looked at me almost pleadingly.
“Can I ask a favor? When I die, can you bury my ashes with the baby’s?”
He hurt me so much that I just couldn’t respond to him calmly.
Seeming to sense my hatred, he fell silent, his eyes turning red, tears of remorse streaming down his cheeks.
His tall, sturdy body suddenly stooped like an old, broken boat.
Then he turned and stumbled away, his thin figure stretching
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longer under the dimming streetlights until he vanished around the corner.
I turned around and left while holding my bag.
While walking, I tossed the necklace into the trash can.
My baby was like me; we loathed belated love.
Three months later, I finished another big project.
While celebrating with my friends, I got a call from the funeral home, wondering if I wanted Antonio’s ashes.
I looked out the window at the plain blue lake, refusing with a smile, “No. Pour it into the sewer
Then I hung up the phone.
The last stain on my life had been removed, and I felt great.
The end