Through the billowing steam, Yvonne Lewis’s refined features visibly froze for a mont.
’That’s right. Holly is still just a child.’
’Holly has been obedient since she was young. She never talked back, no matter what I said.’
’So much so that I always thought Holly was mature for her age.’
’So mature that I eventually forgot she was still a child.’
She bit her lip, a pang of guilt washing over her. She had truly failed Holly Winslow; she hadn’t fulfilled her duties as a mother. "Holly, I..."
Looking at Holly Winslow’s expressionless face, she hesitated. After a dozen or so seconds, she said apologetically, "I neglected you."
Years of a mother’s neglect, sumd up in a single apology. Holly Winslow understood, more or less.
’Didn’t I know this all along? That’s why I’m not sad.’
She picked up a piece of tripe with her chopsticks and placed it in the simring pot, stating calmly, "I’m not the one you should be apologizing to. You let Dad down."
"I don’t know why you wanted a divorce. Maybe Dad did sothing wrong."
"But from my perspective, Dad was already doing his best. After work, he’d go out of his way to buy the food you and I liked."
"He wasn’t good at expressing his feelings. He’d always say he was just passing by, but the factory and that shop weren’t on the sa route at all. He even had to drive through the most congested part of town."
"He traveled for work often, but he’d call ho every single day, even if he only said a few words."
"When you were sick, he’d stay up all night. The year I turned seven, you had appendicitis and needed surgery. Dad waited right outside the door, his glasses completely fogged over."
"After the divorce, Dad’s bedroom reeked of smoke. He never used to smoke in the house. Dad could have refused the divorce, but he agreed. Just because it’s what you wanted."
"Because it’s what you wanted, he agreed. Have you ever thought about why he did that?"
She stared at Yvonne Lewis, unblinking, wanting the answer she had sought for so many years.
’Wyatt Winslow did all those things. I can’t believe Mom didn’t know about any of it.’
’But I’m also afraid she’ll admit it—admit that she knew everything all along.’
Yvonne Lewis fell silent. Wyatt Winslow had indeed been very good to her, but matters of the heart were sothing she couldn’t quite explain. She and Vincent Vance were each other’s first love.
She tried to explain, hoping Holly would understand. "Holly, my first love was your Uncle Vance. We were together for four years, but we broke up for... certain reasons."
Holly Winslow didn’t know if she was sad for herself or for her father. The tripe in her mouth suddenly tasted bitter.
After swallowing, she spoke a single, level sentence. "So, Dad and I together still don’t an as much to you as he does."
"That’s not it."
Yvonne Lewis rushed to explain, but she didn’t know what to say.
Holly Winslow understood everything. She lowered her gaze, hiding a flicker of self-deprecation. Then she looked up. "Mom, let’s eat. The food will get tough if we let it overcook."
She didn’t want to talk about it with her anymore.
The answer was already obvious.
Hearing Holly call her "Mom," Yvonne Lewis thought their relationship had softened a little. She smiled and nodded. "Okay."
They said little after that. When they finished eating and were about to part ways at the restaurant entrance, Yvonne Lewis pressed a bank card into Holly Winslow’s hand.
Looking at her daughter, who now looked so much like her and had blossod into a graceful young woman, Yvonne Lewis patted her hand. "I don’t get to co back often, so you have to take good care of yourself. When you have ti, bring Mortir Quincy over for a visit. Your Uncle Vance and I have a room ready for you both. You’re welco anyti."
This ti, Holly Winslow didn’t refuse. She accepted the bank card, a token that might lessen her mother’s "guilt." "Okay."
On the way ho, she video-called Mortir Quincy. He picked up on the third ring. He appeared on the screen with dripping wet hair, the image hazy with steam.
But so guys look even more handso when they’re a little blurry.
Holly Winslow admired his handso face for a mont. "Hubby, are you in the shower?"
"Yeah."
Mortir Quincy saw that her screen was moving and added, "Are you out sowhere?"
"Yep, I went out on a date," Holly Winslow teased with a grin.
Mortir Quincy raised an eyebrow. "A date? I oughta break your legs."
Suddenly, a familiar voice called out from ahead of her. "Holly Winslow."
Holly Winslow looked at the guy jogging toward her. He was about six feet tall, with tanned skin and strong, defined features. You could tell just by looking at him that he was an athlete.
Xavier Jennings.
"..."
She instinctively glanced at Mortir Quincy on her screen. His eyes were narrowed, already on the brink of a jealous fit.
"..."
’This is a disaster. An absolute disaster.’
She lowered her phone. "Xavier Jennings, what are you doing here?"
"I’m eting Beau Sullivan to hang out. They’re right in that boba shop over there. I thought I was seeing things, but I can’t believe it’s really you."
Xavier Jennings looked at her, looking just as shy as he had back in the day. He scratched his head. "Why don’t you co join us for a bit? I’ll buy you a boba."
Holly Winslow was just about to refuse when a dry "Heh" ca from her phone, announcing his presence. She was speechless. "..."
Xavier Jennings glanced at her phone.
Holly Winslow shook her head. "I can’t, my husband is waiting for at ho for dinner."
Xavier Jennings knew she was married. He nodded. "Oh, okay. We’ll catch up so other ti. Actually, I think our class is having a reunion on the eighteenth of this month."
Holly Winslow had no reason to refuse a class reunion, so she nodded. Then, gesturing to her phone, she said, "I’ve got to go."
Once she’d walked a little further away, she raised her phone again. That husband of hers did not look happy.
Not happy at all.
You could say he was practically green with jealousy.
He narrowed his eyes, his voice dangerously low. "A ’date’? Holly Winslow, you’ve got so nerve."
Holly Winslow: "..."
She shot him a glare. "Quincy the Puppy, are you going to be all passive-aggressive? Just go finish your shower. We can talk after."
"Don’t you dare hang up."
Mortir Quincy’s voice was laced with suspicion. "So you can hang up and go get boba with him?"
Holly Winslow: "..."
She grinned defiantly. "That’s right! I’m! Hang! Ing! Up! To! Get! Bo! Ba!"
’I haven’t even gotten back at him for my sprained ankle yet.’
Before Quincy the Vinegar Vat could say another word, she ended the call. The thought of Mortir’s thunderous expression on the other end made her burst out laughing.
Gene Winslow had won a great victory this ti.
After that, she went to the boba shop and bought two of the most expensive drinks on the nu before heading ho.
At the Winslow ho, the television was on, tuned to a financial news channel.
Wyatt Winslow was on the phone. When he saw her co in, he handed the receiver to her. "He couldn’t get through to your phone."
Holly Winslow: "..."
’That damn Mortir Quincy,’ she thought. ’Now he’s learned to tattle to my dad?’
She took the phone. "What do you think you’re doing?"
"The walk from Elden Road to our community, proceeding at a slow pace of five ters per minute, should take twenty minutes. You’ve been gone for half an hour. Where did you go?" Scholar Quincy’s voice ca from the other end of the line.
Holly Winslow: "..."
She gritted her teeth, annoyed. "I told you I was going to buy boba! Boba! The most expensive kind!" Then she hung up.
Mortir Quincy: "..."
’Damn it all,’ he thought, ’my lungs are about to explode from fury.’
Holly Winslow handed the phone back to Wyatt Winslow, then picked up one of the boba cups from the table and offered it to him. "Here, Dad. Have so boba."
Wyatt Winslow rarely drank such things, but he took the cup without hesitation. After a sip, he pursed his lips and asked, feigning nonchalance, "Have you bought your plane tickets yet?"
Holly Winslow was busy taking a picture of her boba, planning to post it online to tease Quincy the Vinegar Vat.
Hearing his question, it took her a mont to register. She looked at Wyatt Winslow. "What plane tickets?"
"Your tickets back to B-City," Wyatt Winslow said, pushing up his glasses.
It dawned on her then. She grinned. "It’s still early. There are two months of sumr break left. Hehe, that ans I get to freeload off you for two more months of ho-cooked als, Dad."
"And save a few thousand in the process."
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