In Pieces

12 | Mother |

My heart thumped heavily to the sound of the base as I descended the stairs. I blinked away my fears, shrugged my worries and put on a smile. Finally, today, I was going to be a part of Mom's party—as a party crasher—but she didn't need to know that.

What was Mom like before I was born? Happy? Compassionate? In love?

My eyes widened when the stairs ended and I walked into—a graveyard.

The heavy drapes were closed, blocking the rays of mid-day sunshine in the summer sky. Flashing lights shone on skeletons, cobwebs, and tombstones all around the living room. Dad totally undersold the Halloween theme by calling this a baby shower. The only baby here was the sliced pink mess of a giant cake in the center of the dining table.

What was I getting myself into? Perhaps Mom could tell.

I climbed up on the couch to search for her.

The crowd here was different than the cheerful lords and ladies from the royal reflection world—feral—jumping and swaying to the blasting music. I couldn't say if they were having fun or being tortured. The disco lights hitting their crooked smiles and painted faces gave me shivers.

But then my heart skipped a painful beat at the sight of a familiar face.

There she was! A sexy witch in a low-cut leather skirt and black crop top... Shaking her head, pumping her cocktail glass up and down to the rhythm, owning the dance floor with her enormous belly bump. That tight, gold belt around her waist must be squishing some part of baby me in her tummy.

I rubbed my shoulder uncomfortably as my smile turned sour. Well, I was intact—if you didn't count my broken heart, wasn't I?

Jumping off the couch, I pushed the aimlessly dancing bodies to reach Mom.

"Miranda?"

Her thick, unruly hair whipped my face.

What did I expect? A hug?

I sighed and grabbed her arm. She turned around and spilled her pink drink on my dress.

"What?" she barked, holding my shoulder to steady herself.

Her pupils were huge!

"You spilled ma' drink," she slurred. "Get me another one—a cosmopolitan. And tell the bartender to serve it in a long glass. Those martini glasses don't hold anything."

I distanced myself to check her belly. Today was supposed to be my birthday. Was I going to see the moment I was born? Did she give birth to me in the middle of a party?

Wait... What was a cosmopolitan? Was she drunk?

"Oh, that," she said, trailing my shocked gaze to her tummy. "My death certificate." Then she threw her head up and started laughing.

"Don't say that," I whispered.

She shrugged and turned around to keep dancing, but I grabbed her hand.

"I'll get you your drink. Let's sit for a while," I suggested.

Yep, drink was the magic word. She followed me sheepishly and threw herself onto the leather couch with a groan. Spreading her long legs open, she held her belly uncomfortably and eyed me up and down while I hurried to stuff some pillows behind her.

"Where's ma drink?"

"Umm..." I wasn't fetching her any.

"You smoke?" She took a silver lighter out of belt and started flicking it.

I shook my head.

Her frown turned into a smirk. "You are one of those, aren't you?"

I raised a brow in question.