Page 7 of Do It For Me

Mum comes into my room and stands behind me as I sit in front of my dressing table. She’s wearing an apron, and her ginger hair tucked up in a bun; she must have been cooking. Her fingers gently work through the tangles in my hair. I hate when she does this, but these are the only moments where there’s peace in this house—in my life.

Besides, Mum cherishes these small moments together. I won’t ruin it for her.

“What do you think, love?” she asks softly, her sad smile reflected in the mirror.

“He’s... interesting.”

“Did ye like him?”

I can’t help but smile. Mum’s accent always comes out when she’s trying to cheer me up. She knows I love it, even though she tries to hide it because my father hates it. Once, I teased her about it, and she laughed. Really laughed. But my father beat me so badly afterwards that I passed out. Now it’s practically forbidden to use it. I guess she’s making an exception because of the circumstances.

“I don’t know yet,” I admit, meeting her gaze in the mirror. “He’s weird. He talked about love, but how could there be love if we don’t even know anything about each other?”

She sighs and brushes a strand of hair behind my ear.

“There’s a lot of things your father does, pet, that no reasonable or normal man would consider doin’.”

“Dante is normal?” I ask hesitantly.

Mum chuckles softly, shaking her head.

“At the very least, he’s far more normal than your father,” she replies. “You must trust him, pet. Please.”

“Why?”

She pauses for a moment, her gaze thoughtful. “Just do it. In time, you’ll understand. I’ve no doubt you’ll come to love him. He’s a remarkable man, truly.”

“You know him?”

“No, not personally,” she admits, resuming her gentle work on my hair. “But he has a reputation, and from all I’ve heard, it’s a fine one.”

A few seconds pass before she stops brushing my hair again, her hands lingering for a moment before she cups my shoulders, meeting my eyes in the mirror.

“Please,mo chroí4,” she says, her voice soft. “Give him a chance. He’s nothin’ like your father.”

“It’s just… I’m scared.”

She sighs deeply. “I know, pet. But I promise, love is a beautiful thing. There’s nothin’ you should fear,a stór.5”

But it isn’t love that frightens me. It’s the fact that he’s a man, and every man I’ve known has been violent, manipulative, or worse. Even my own brothers.

I don’t want to fall in love with someone like that.

I don’t want to live like my mum.

I don’t want to keep living like this.

Notes:

4. Mo chroí: My heart/Heart

5. A stor: Treasure.

A DATE

It’s been three days since I met my fiancé, and he hasn’t reached out.

I thought he might have regretted his decision, until I walked downstairs and saw Mum holding a box wrapped in peculiar paper.