Breathe by Ani San Page A

case I got distracted,’ so mainly I sat on the counter sipping wine.
    We ate at a small dining table in the kitchen . The lights were off, and two candlelights gave the dinner a romantic atmosphere. I started imagining that this was a real date. We were almost done eating when he commented a picture on the wall above the table. It contained only majestic mountains that came up from the ocean, but more realistic than the one he bought. It even had a shore and a small yellow house in the lower end. It wasn’t in my usual style, and he wondered if I had painted it.
    ‘ I did this one right before I came here. It’s the only one I brought with me. It’s from where I grew up.’
    ‘ Yes, I recognise the mountains. Is that the house you grew up in?’
    ‘ Yes, with my mom.’
    I didn’t know how much I wanted to share. It was still too painful.
    ‘I’ve been there once. In the capitol. Oslo, is it?’ I nodded to his question.
    ‘ Have you ever been there?’ he continued.
    ‘ Once.’ That was especially something I didn’t want to talk about. I tried to block out that memory as much as possible.
    ‘ Do you have much family back there?’ His voice was casual, and he shoved his plate away and leaned backwards. After our previous conversation about my father, I was a little surprised that he would bring it up. I guess this was a common topic when people started to get to know each other. I didn’t care for it much. I shook my head, refusing to answer more on the matter. I tried to wiggle my mind to come up with a topic changer, but it was to busy blocking the memories of my trip to Oslo. 
    He was about to say something more, when his phone rang again. He looked at the number and then excused him self as he walked towards the living room. I was fidgeting with the remains on my plate, trying not to listen to his conversation. Instead my thoughts drifted back to the things I didn’t want to talk about. To the day my mother died, and the letter I found a week later. How I found out that I had a father somewhere. Until that day I believed my father was dead. He might as well be dead. I thought about the lawyer, Alfred, coming to help me with the funeral. He hadn’t told me about him, but he did explain about the money. My money. A part of it was given to my mother to help raise me, but she’d never touched it. The other part was money being transferred every month until I was eighteen. Alfred had refused to tell me whom the money came from. He never mentioned that he worked for my father, not then. I didn’t read the letter until he left. It was hidden in my mother’s nightstand, and had my name on it. I still remember every word of it.  It was dated two month before she died. That would be the same time the doctors told us there weren’t any more they could do. I had stayed with her the last few weeks at the hospital, refusing to let her go. She didn’t tell me about the letter. She knew I would find it.

Chapter 6
     
    «Love is a fire. But whether it is going to warm your hearth or
    burn down your house, you can never tell.»
- Joan Crawford
     
     
    ‘ My dearest little girl’, she started. ‘I don’t want to leave you, but it seems I don’t have any choice. We all live life on borrowed time, and now my time is up. Don’t be sad for me. I have lived a good life. And you are the best part. I never regretted my choices, and I never regretted meeting your father. He gave me you. Every day since the doctor told us that the time was up, I have debating myself if I should tell you. You have a right to know, even if the truth doesn’t do you any good. I have told you that your father died. That isn’t exactly true. For me he was dead before you were born, but in reality he is very much alive. You would have found out anyway, because the money he has entrusted in you, are yours to spend as you like the day you turn 21. I have been keeping in touch with Alfred, his lawyer, you will probably meet him when I am