Page 7 of Sing For Us

“I’m good. Arsen and I are going to the first event for my charity. We are going to try to raise awareness for the cause.”

“I am proud of you, Lejla. I really am,” I tell her. Lejla went through some shit with her parents, and with Arsen's help, she started an organization that helps kids who don’t have parents, whether that be help with tuition, housing, or anything they need.

“Thank you. Now, how can I help you?” she asks me while I hear her ruffling some papers.

“I want to donate one hundred million euros to your organization.” Then there is silence. I can’t even hear Lejla’s breathing, and I check my cell service because she has been quiet for a long time.

“Lejla, are you there?” I ask her while I take a sip of my coffee. Did I say something wrong?

“M, you don’t have to do that. That is an insane amount of money.”

“I want to do this.” I don’t tell her that I need to do this. “Do I need to donate more?”

“No! That will find us for the next two hundred years!” she shrieks through the phone. I have an obscene amount of money, and I keep making more. So, why wouldn’t I share my wealth with my friends? After more arguing, Lejla accepts my money, and we talk about the transfer.

“Great! I tell my accountant to transfer the money tomorrow,” I promise her.

“I can’t thank you enough. Arsen wanted to donate a billion euros, but I rejected his proposal.”

“Why? He is your loving husband after all,” I say mockingly.

“I’m going to murder you and him,” she laughs. “I have to go get ready for the event. How are you? You sound off.” Straight to the motherfucking point. Outsiders notice your expressions; your friends notice you.

“I am fine.”

“You don’t sound fine, M. Please, talk to me,” she pleads with me. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

“I am,” I deflect. “Good luck at the benefit. Say hi to Arsen for me.” I hang up before she can ask me any more questions. I take my coffee and sit out on my patio. It’s nighttime and a night like this reminds me of when Lana first ran towards my maze.

“There. You. Are.”

The feeling of anger is rising again, and in a fit of rage, I throw my cup as far as I can. It shatters, just like my confidence. That has been flushed down the drain, and I am not sure I can get it back. The lack of self-belief has been fucking with my head, because have I ever been right about something? What’s the motherfucking point in living if I can’t do one thing right?

I stand up and go to pick up the broken pieces of my mug, and my mother’s face flashes before my eyes. And one of the last times we talked.

“Noa, can you please get me my medications?” My mama calls out to me in her soft voice. In just a second, I’m standing before her medication cabinet and get what I need. I go to sit beside her and give it to her. I watch her drink her pills, and she sets her cup of water on her dresser. I’ve been in Tuzla for the past couple of weeks because her illness has progressed. My mama has been diagnosed with end-stage ovarian cancer, and I hate to see her like this.

The only good thing in my life.

I look at her, and the tears well up in my eyes. She reaches for my face, and I put my cheek in the palm of her hand.

“My sweet Noa, don’t cry for your mother.” I take her hand and kiss it.

“How can I not? I cannot lose you, mama.”

“Noa, you will pick yourself up after I die. I’ve taken care of you.”

“No!” I stand up and turn away from my mother. She can’t see me cry. “That fucking asshole has never been here for me, but you have. I only have one parent! What will I do without you?”

“Please come sit with me,” she pleads, and I oblige. I sit beside her and take her hand again.

“After I’m gone, you won’t have to worry about your father. I took care of that, with the help of some friends. And before you ask, now is not the time to talk about it.”

“Fine. I hate Dario for not being here with you.”

“While your father hasn’t been the best husband, he did give me one thing that I will cherish forever,” she tells me.

“What?” I ask her as she pats my hand.