What Kind of Love is That?

I had expected her to deny it. To say something like, “Camellia, that is ridiculous. I’m not your mother.” To wave her hand and laugh the idea away.

But she didn’t.

When the word left my mouth, she smiled, and nodded.

I was dumbstruck. Completely and utterly paralyzed in confusion. “B- But how? What? You’re actually Mom? Like, mother of Scarlett Renoir, not Camellia,” I clarified.

I knew the answer already. She nodded again. “Indeed, dear.”

“You’re lying,” I decided. “This is a test. You’re somehow just… reading my memories, trying to test me.” I folded my arms. “I don’t appreciate that.”

“I’m not lying, sweetie.”

Hearing that from her mouth was so weird.

Aurea put a finger to her lips, tapping them in thought. “I suppose if I wanted to prove it to you, I’d have to dredge up a memory we share that you’ve forgotten.”

As she searched her brain, I turned my head to Damos and Lynn. Their eyes were wide, their brows raised. Damos shrugged.

Real helpful, dude.

“Aha!” Aurea exclaimed. “For your fifth birthday, you demanded that we get you a real, live shark as a pet.” She giggled.

The color drained from my face. “Oh my god,” I whispered. “I had completely forgotten.” She was right. It took me right back to when I turned five, throwing a tantrum for not getting a shark for my birthday.

Damos snickered. “A shark, huh? A little tough to keep as a pet.”

“But you died!” I cried, refusing to indulge this woman with memories of my childhood. “Dad’s letter said so.”

“So did you.” Her bright blue eyes pierced into my soul.

Breathlessly, I gawked at Aurea. “It’s really you, isn’t it?”

What the hell do I even say?

“Well, you could start with a simple ‘I love you,’ I suppose,” Aurea responded.

Wait, I didn’t say that aloud.

Her eyes went wide, and she covered her mouth with her hand. “Ah, my apologies, please—”

“Are you reading my mind?” I asked incredulously.

She sheepishly nodded. “Force of habit. We goddesses tend to do that. It was far more egregious when Tethys did it, though, wasn’t it?”

The gears turned in my brain. “What do you mean ‘when’?” I asked, my eyes narrowing in suspicion.

“When you met her for the first time, I mean,” Aurea — or am I supposed to say mom, now? — elaborated.

“I didn’t say anything about that.” I leaned back, a feeling of unease washing over my whole body.

“Well, call it—”

“Have you been watching me? This whole time? I met Tethys, like, a month ago.” Standing up, I pushed the chair back, my emotions rising.

Mom settled into her seat, forming a pyramid with her fingers and holding it up to her mouth in concern.

I took a step forward, stomping. I was furious. “Wait, does that mean you’ve been reading my mind this whole time, too? From the second I got to this world?”

She remained silent.

“Talk about an invasion of privacy. I’m your daughter. Is there nothing sacred?” By this point, my arms were flailing, my palms were sweaty, and my face felt flush as my heart beat out of control. The idea that my own mother, the mother I had spent the end of my past life and all of this one mourning, had been spying on me, every second of every day for the past month, horrified me.

“I’ve been watching for longer than that,” she quietly admitted. “Ever since I died, I’ve been watching over you. In that world, and this one.”

“Whoa,” Damos whispered.

I gasped. “Even as Scarlett? How— No, I don’t even care, actually. If the invasion of privacy weren’t so flagrant, I might even be touched.”

“I wanted to monitor you, make sure you were okay. Wouldn’t you do the same?” Aurea-Mom argued back. “I couldn’t just look away. Especially not when you appeared in my very own world.”

“But if you’ve been watching the whole time, then…” I fell back into the seat, collapsing at the realization. “You watched Phoebe die.”

Mom nodded solemnly. “A tragic day.”

Quiet and incredulous, my rage boiled over. “You’re a goddess. You saw it happening. And you just let her die. You could have saved her.” I began to cry, tears streaming down my face. “You watched my friend die in my arms. You could’ve stopped that.”

“It was devastating, truly. I cried, too.”

“You’re a goddess. Why didn’t you do anything?” I screamed.

Turning her head, she looked out a window next to a bookcase. “Camellia… What could I do?” She looked back. “Warn you of the crocodile in the first place? I’m not omniscient. I didn’t see it either. Somehow step in, and amputate her leg? I couldn’t have done any more than you did. I’m not a goddess of healing.”

Rubbing my eyes, I choked out, “What’s the point of being a deity if you can’t even do that much?”

With a sad gaze, Aurea bit her lip, shaking her head in sorrow. “There is nobody to blame. Sometimes things happen, and we must accept them for what they are, and move past. Phoebe is gone, Camellia. And it’s nobody’s fault. Not yours, not mine, not hers.”

I couldn’t form a reply. I heard Lynn sobbing to my right, but didn’t dare look. I might break down completely if I did.

“Fine,” I quietly admitted. “You couldn’t save Phoebe. None of the goddesses could.”

“Correct,” she replied.

“But you’ve still been watching me since the day I died,” I continued,

Aurea furrowed her brow in confusion. “I said that, yes.”

I wanted to explode. “That’s insane, then. From the day I got here? Why didn’t you at least say something?” I shouted. “I spent so long processing that grief, about you dying and me being a failure to you. That was hard,” I ground out as I clenched my fists. “That’s cruel, letting me go through that alone.”

She stood up from her chair, gesturing to me. “But look how much you’ve grown as a result of that. You processed the grief of both mine and Phoebe’s deaths! Was it all not worth it, in spite of that difficulty?”

Through tears, Lynn’s voice was barely audible, “No.”

I blinked in shock. “I don’t care about that! That sucked. Like, really sucked. You could’ve helped me through all of that, and you didn’t? And you want to try and claim to be my mom?” My words, laced with venom, shot out involuntarily.

Aurea looked at the rug, her voice small and reserved. “Camellia, you cut us off entirely. Ignored our calls, our letters. You changed your address, moved far away.” Her eyes met mine, tears forming below her diamond blue irises. “How could your father and I know? We thought you didn’t want anything to do with us for the rest of your life. You made it clear in your old life that you never wanted to speak with me again. How would you react to my presence in your new one?” The tears slowly fell down her cheeks. “I mean, you even changed your name, the one I lovingly gave you, because you felt it didn’t suit you. It felt as though you were trying to put as much distance between us as you could.”

Lost in thought, I stared at the desk up on the stairs, behind my mother. “I don’t know.” I returned my gaze to her. “But if you were reading my mind the whole time, then you knew I never left because I hated you, Mom,” I sobbed. “It was the opposite. I thought you hated me.”

This time, the goddess had no response. Closing her eyes, she bowed her head in shame. “Do you still believe that?”

The moon, bright and full, peeked out from behind her chair. Staring at it, all I could do was mumble, “I’m not sure, Mom. I’m not sure.”