Chapter 7 - THE ROOM WITH THE YELLOW CURTAINS
Z
I moved into a small apartment in Boston two weeks later.
Not the Moretti estate.
Not a mansion.
A modest two-bedroom apartment above a florist's shop.
The landlord was a retired teacher named Mrs. Alvarez.
She had kind eyes and a habit of feeding everyone.
I found the apartment through a local housing assistance program.
Lorenzo offered to help with the deposit.
I refused at first.
Then he suggested a written, interest-free loan that I could repay when I was financially stable.
I agreed only after my attorney reviewed the terms.
The apartment had a small kitchen.
A sunny living room.
And a second bedroom.
I stood in the doorway.
Empty walls.
Wooden floors.
A window overlooking the street.
I placed my hand on my stomach.
“Lily,” I whispered, “this is your room.”
A week later, I bought yellow curtains.
They were inexpensive.
Cotton.
Soft.
Perfect.
I hung them myself while standing safely on the floor and letting Mrs. Alvarez handle the ladder.
When the sunlight came through, the room glowed.
I began crying.
Lorenzo visited that afternoon.
He stood in the doorway holding a paper bag.
“May I come in?”
I smiled.
“Yes.”
He looked around.
“This is nice.”
I laughed.
“It's tiny compared to your house.”
He shook his head.
“It's yours.”
He handed me the bag.
Inside was a small stuffed rabbit.
White.
Soft.
With pink ears.
I stared.
“Lorenzo.”
He looked embarrassed.
“I saw it.”
I smiled.
“Of course you did.”
We sat in the living room.
I made tea.
He asked about my prenatal appointments.
I told him the baby was doing well.
Then he looked at me.
“Emma, what do you want to do after Lily is born?”
I considered.
“I used to work at a community library.”
He smiled.
“Really?”
I nodded.
“I loved it.”
“Why did you leave?”
“Brody moved us around. Then I needed a job that paid more.”
He looked thoughtful.
“Would you go back?”
I smiled.
“If I could.”
That evening, after Lorenzo left, I sat in Lily's room.
The yellow curtains moved gently in the breeze.
May you like
The stuffed rabbit rested inside the empty crib.
And for the first time, I believed my daughter might have the childhood I'd dreamed of giving her.
