Melting of the ice

"I'll be home over Christmas", mother says on her way to the kitchen. It's not what she had wished for, it's never been a secret how much she hates sunny California this time of year. She grabs a bottle of tonic water from the fridge and sinks down next to me on the sofa.

I don't know why she won't go to New York like she would have wanted, but she tries hard to act as if she's not disappointed and asks me that question again, her head slightly tilted to the left: "you love me, don't you"?

I'm not supposed to answer, so I change the subject and ask if anyone will be joining us. Hernan still comes and goes and mother's mood changes accordingly. "No" she says, "you're all I have". She grabs my hand and holds it for about two seconds. I guess that's a start.