CHAPTER 9: COULD THIS BE A TRAP?
1265 Words
Could this be a trap?
Lisa's POV
The morning sunlight spilled through the hospital curtains, warming the room for the first time since we arrived.
I watched my mother fold her few belongings into a small bag while the nurse removed the last of her IV tubes.
"You've recovered well, Mrs. Corris," the doctor said with a reassuring smile as he entered the room. "Your blood pressure is stable now, and all your test results look much better," he continued.
A smile spread across my mother's face. "So I can finally go home?" she asked.
The doctor nodded in agreement.
"Yes, you're free to leave today," he said.
I let out a breath I hadn't realized I was holding. We were finally going home.
The word alone sounded comforting.
It felt like forever since we'd slept in our tiny apartment. After everything that had happened, home suddenly felt like the safest place in the world.
"But..." my mother began hesitantly, looking from the doctor to me. "What about the hospital bill? I know I can't possibly afford," she asked.
"The bill has already been settled," the doctor interrupted gently.
Both of us looked at him.
"It was paid in full this morning," he said.
My mother's forehead creased in shock.
“Who made the payment,” mom asked.
"A gentleman by the name of Charles Manson settled every expense before coming to work today," the doctor said.
Silence settled over the room.
My mother's lips parted, but no words came out.
I lowered my eyes, unable to stop the smile that appeared on my face.
Charles had done it again, without asking for anything. He did it without making us feel ashamed.
He simply helped us without noise.
The doctor handed my mother her discharge papers before wishing us well and leaving the room.
The door had barely closed before my mother turned to me.
"Lisa..." She called.
I already knew what she was going to ask.
"He paid for everything," I answered quietly.
She stared at me.
"I don't understand," she asked.
"I told you," I said gently. "He's been helping us since the day I was arrested."
She slowly sat back on the bed.
Her fingers clenched around the discharge papers.
"No one spends this kind of money on strangers," she muttered.
"I don't think he sees us as strangers anymore," I said gently.
She didn't respond, Instead she sighed deeply.
It was the kind of sigh that carried fear.
The taxi ride home felt much longer than it actually was, neither of us spoke much.
The city rushed past the windows while an uncomfortable silence settled between us.
Normally, my mother would point out something funny happening on the street or complain about New York traffic.
Today, she simply stared outside lost in her own thoughts.
I wanted to tell her. Several times, I opened my mouth, but I lost my courage.
How was I supposed to tell her?
How could I possibly explain that I had agreed to marry the very man we'd spent years avoiding?
She hadn't even accepted his kindness. How would she react to my decision?
I imagined the disappointment on her face, the questions that follows when I finally tell her.
The thought alone made my stomach ache. Maybe I should wait, after she'd rested.
Should I wait till tomorrow?
But another voice inside me reminded me that tomorrow wouldn't change the truth.
Sooner or later, she had to know.
When we finally reached our apartment building, my mother stepped out of the taxi and stood still for a moment.
She looked up at the old building with watery eyes.
"I never thought I'd miss this place so much," she whispered.
I smiled. "It still leaks whenever it rains"
She laughed softly.
"And the elevator still sounds like it's about to fall apart, but it's home," I said.
For the first time that day, I saw genuine peace on her face.
We went upstairs slowly and unlocked the apartment door.
The familiar scent of old furniture and lavender air freshener welcomed us inside.
It wasn't luxurious but it was beautiful and it belongs to us.
My mother walked into the living room and slowly ran her fingers across the sofa.
"I've missed this place," she said.
I watched her quietly as she goes round, smiling at everything.
Everything looked exactly the way we'd left it.
The old family photographs, the tiny bookshelves, the worn-out curtains she'd promised to replace for over a year.
Nothing had changed but somehow, everything has.
My mother turned toward me with a tired smile. "I'm going to make us some tea."
"I'll do it," I said.
"No," she said gently. "Sit down. Let me feel useful again."
I smiled and watched her disappear into the small kitchen. A few minutes later, she returned carrying two steaming mugs.
She handed one to me before sitting across from me.
Neither of us spoke. We both enjoyed our tea in silence.
I wrapped both hands around my cup, staring at the rising steam.
This was it. I couldn't delay any longer.
"Mom..." I called.
She looked up.
"There's something I haven't told you," I muttered. Her smile faded immediately.
"What is it?" She asked.
I took a slow breath to gather courage.
"You remember Charles saying he needed my help?" I said.
She nodded carefully.
“I agreed to help him, just to show gratitude. He has done so much for us,” I explained.
She looked very interested in what I had to say
"What did he ask for?" She asked, dropping her mug on the table.
My heart pounded so loudly I could barely hear myself.
"He..." I stammered.
I paused before continuing.
"He asked me to marry him," I muttered.
The room became perfectly still. My mother's face was drained of color.
For several seconds, she simply stared at me. I couldn't tell whether she'd heard me or not.
"What?" She whispered very slowly.
"He needs a wife for a business arrangement," I continued.
The words sounded ridiculous even to my own ears. "He said it's temporary. It's a contract marriage,” I added.
"And…what did you tell him?" She struggled to finish the sentence.
"I said yes," I muttered.
The mug slipped from her trembling hands. It hit the floor with a loud crash. The tea in her mug spread across the tiles.
My mother covered her mouth as tears gathered in her eyes.
"Oh, Lisa..." Her voice broke. "What have we done?"
I rushed toward her. "Mom, listen to me"
"No." She shook her head slowly.
Tears rolled down her cheeks.
"We were so desperate and vulnerable”
She looked at me with a sadness I had never seen before. "I was so grateful that someone reached out to help us, that I forgot to ask why."
"He isn't forcing me," I tried to convince her.
"That doesn't matter" she shrugged.
She reached for my hand. "We accepted his kindness because we had nowhere else to turn. And that frightens me more than anything.” Her voice trembled while she spoke.
“I trust him,” I said, squeezing her hand tightly.
She closed her eyes briefly before looking back at me. She was scared on my behalf, I could see through her.
It was the fear of a mother who believed she was about to lose her daughter.
She held my hand so tightly that I could feel it shaking.
Then she asked the question that stole every answer from my lips.
"What if this is a trap?”
- Writer
