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“Nonsense! She’s barely hurt! No!
She’s not hurt at all!”
“Auntie, even if you want to rush into a marriage, make up a better excuse, okay? How could Joan have a mother like you, talking nonsense about your own daughter’s life?”
Floyd Wilkinson said this before hanging up the phone in anger.
I wished I could turn into a vengeful spirit and drag him away!
Even though I wasn’t close by, I could almost imagine my mom standing outside the operating room, praying for me.
Even if I had a minor ailment, she
would stay up all night, worried and
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Floyd Wilkinson spoke to my mother like that, when it was he who had a
heart of stone!
“Don’t be so mad, Floyd. We’re almost graduating; it’s normal for her to be anxious,” Priscilla Bates gently comforted him, but then suggested, “However, let’s just go see her? It might stop them from spreading
rumors.”
Floyd Wilkinson scratched his head
in frustration, a look of disgust on his
face.
Even I didn’t realize how much I
dreaded marriage.
Since the argument about marriage, I
hadn’t brought it up again.
The humiliation of having a cake
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smashed in my face was enough to deter me from ever wanting to experience it again.
But because of my mom’s
commotion, they lost their appetite
and we all ended up back at school.
“Are you out of your mind? Your girlfriend’s in trouble and you’re here
with the other woman?” As soon as
we got near the apartment, Floyd
Wilkinson’s roommate rushed out.
His choice of words made Priscilla
Bates‘ face flush with embarrassment,
but she didn’t care.
It was clear that Floyd Wilkinson and Priscilla Bates had been together for a long time; I was just blind to it.
“Have you been bought too?” Floyd
Wilkinson grew more agitated
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completely trusting Priscilla Bates‘
words.
The roommate grabbed his clothes and dragged him to the hospital.
I finally saw my mother; her temples had turned gray, and she looked so much older, delicately holding a finely
crafted box in her arms.
“Joan, we’ve waited here long
enough. Mom’s taking you home.”
Those simple words cut through my
heart like a knife.
I knelt on the ground, bowing my head repeatedly.
Mom, your unfilial daughter left first
in this life. You must take care of yourself; don’t overwork anymore.
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“Ma’am, he’s here,” Floyd Wilkinson’s roommate pushed him forward.
Floyd Wilkinson himself seemed
indifferent: “Where is she? Stop
hiding. I don’t want to marry her now, maybe I will later.”
“This is her urn. I thought you would give her a respectful farewell, but it
seems unnecessary now.”
Mom’s body was trembling, barely able to stand with my brother’s
support.
I tried to steady her, but it was futile.
Mom, I didn’t like him that much.
Don’t be angry. Your health is what
matters most.
“Auntie, how long are we going to
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keep up this joke?” Floyd Wilkinson
asked.
Finally, my brother couldn’t hold back
and punched him in the face: “You’re still not clear–headed! Who would joke
about life and death?”
“Joan fell from a high building, suffering multiple fractures
and massive internal bleeding.
Resuscitation failed due to excessive
blood loss. They say someone was with her that day!”
Floyd Wilkinson froze, standing there in disbelief for a long time before reacting, “How could she die? Wasn’t she the one who caused Prissy to
fall?”
“Prissy? Her roommate Priscilla
Bates? They were together when she fell from the balcony?”
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My brother, who had been running
the company for several years, quickly caught onto the crucial point.
“If you knew that, where were you? Why didn’t you save her?”
