Chapter 23 Night - third and final visit

Mom and I were walking in a small town I had never been to.There is nothing special about the town, as usual there is a gas station around the corner and a small convenience store opposite.The utility poles and tree poles on both sides of the street are the same color as cardboard boxes, and the leaves on the trees are almost gone. We stopped at the door of a two-story apartment building.It was a light yellow brick house. "Where are we?" I asked. Mom looked at the distant sky.The sun has set. "You should have had more dinner," she said. I rolled my eyes. "What's the matter, Mom?"

"Nothing. It makes me feel better knowing you've had enough. That's all. You gotta learn to take care of yourself, Charlie." On her face, I saw that familiar expression again, it was a kind of unreserved concern.At that moment, I realized that when you look at your mother, you can see the purest love in the world. "I wish we had been like this before. Mom, you know?" "You mean before I die?" My voice became a little timid: "Yes." "I've been here." "I know." "You are very busy." Hearing the word "busy", I shuddered.Now it sounds like all the excuses are so empty.I saw a helpless expression on her face.At that moment, I believe, we both thought how different things would be if we could do it all over again.

"Charlie," she asked, "am I a good mother?" I opened my mouth to answer, but a blinding flash made her suddenly disappear in front of me.I felt my face burn, as if the sun were shining directly on it.Then, I heard that loud voice again: "Charles Bennett. Open your eyes!" I blinked hard.All of a sudden, I was behind my mother, several blocks between us, as if she kept going and I stopped.I blinked again, and she moved further away.I can barely see her.I want to run forward, my fingers are pointing forward desperately, my shoulder seems to be falling out of my elbow.Everything is spinning.I feel like calling her name, but it's just a breath, rolling in my throat.It's exhausting me.

But suddenly, she was with me again, holding my hand, calm as if nothing had happened.We slipped back to where we were. "There's another place to go," she repeated. She took me to the light yellow brick house, and the next moment, we were already in the house.The apartment had a low ceiling and was packed with furniture.The bedroom is small and the wallpaper is green.A landscape painting of a vineyard hangs on the wall.A crucifix hangs above the bed.There is a large mirror in the corner of the bedroom, and under the mirror is a dressing table in champagne wood.In front of the mirror sat a woman with long dark hair.She is wearing a pink nightgown.

She looked to be in her seventies, with a long narrow nose, high cheekbones, and a healthy olive skin that had sagged.She was absent-minded, combing her hair slowly, looking at the table top of the dressing table. Mom came up behind her.The two did not greet or speak.Mom stretched out her hands, and the two hands met, holding the comb in one hand, and smoothing the hair with the other hand in the direction of the comb. The woman looked up, as if she was looking at herself in the mirror, but her eyes were looking at an unknown distance in confusion.I think she saw her mother. No one spoke.

"Mom," I couldn't help asking softly, "Who is she?" Mom turned around, her hand still in the woman's hair. "She's your father's wife."