Ever since the talk with Kyle, I figure that it's time to be upfront with Blaire too.

She's my friend—the first and only girl of my age that I'm close to. Or rather, growing close with. And, I realize that being honest is also the best test to know which friends are the right ones for me. To know who are the ones who will stick with me during the toughest moments.

When we meet up and she takes me to Central Plaza for shopping, that's when I take my chance.

We enter a shop, and she rifles through several racks of clothes. Once in a while, she shoots me a funny look. After seeing the way Kyle had whisked me away yesterday, it has kicked her suspicion radar into high gear. She now knows that I'm hiding something from her, that we are more than just school mates.

"I get it. We've only been friends for nearly two weeks and you don't wish to tell me everything," she pouts, "but it would be nice if you could trust me a little. After all, I did share with you about my mother and especially Ian. You were the first person I ever told about him."

I place a hand on her arm and turn her towards me. "It's not about not trusting you, Blaire. It's just that I'm afraid you might see me differently once I tell you."

A frown sets in on her forehead and studies me with a queer look.

"Did you...murder someone?"

"What?" I exclaim in disbelief. "No!"

A teasing smile peeks through her face. "Well, if you didn't, that's fine, isn't it? I won't run away, I swear." She nods her head at me encouragingly. "Let's hear this."

I study her for a long minute, deliberating, before rolling up my sleeves slowly. Holding my breath nervously, I show her the faint scar that runs across my skin and watch as her face scrunches up in pure horror and confusion.

She gasps and takes my arm gently for a closer inspection. "What happened?" she demands. "Who did this?"

I repeat what Aunt Abbie has told me. "It was an accident. A car crashed into Mom's and we flipped. The driver got arrested. I lived, but my mother didn't."

The colors fade from Blaire's face. Shock and sympathy flash in her eyes. "I didn't know. I'm so sorry, Riley."

I nod in understanding. "But that's not all."

Her frown deepens. I tell her about my coma, my amnesia, and my history of living in the northern part of this town. When I'm finished, her eyes water and she pulls me into her arms.

She squeezes me so tight that I can't breathe. "Oh, Riley! Why didn't you say anything? And here I thought I was having it worse than you," she sniffs and pulls back to meet my gaze. "But how does Kyle fit into any of this?"

I give her a wry smile and it's everything that she needs to figure out the answer. "I knew it!"–she shakes her finger at me excitedly–"You guys had a thing in the past, didn't you? That's why he was so desperate to talk to you yesterday. Spill it, babe. What did he want?"

I gnaw on my bottom lip. "He likes me. Still like me, despite my current state. He wants us back together, but I don't know if I can like him back equally," I sigh. "Do you get what I mean?"

Blaire stares at me thoughtfully for a long minute. "You know how people often say that marriage is a gamble?" she says, before giving a shrug of her shoulders. "It's the same for relationships, too. You've to try to know if you guys will work out together."

"And to be honest, I'm jealous of you," she admits. "You were gone for over a year and he hasn't forgotten about you. If I've a guy liking me as crazy as Kyle does, I'll never let him go. But no, I end up liking a guy who might become my step-brother if our parents get married." She snorts and rolls her eyes in disbelief. "Such terrible luck I have, huh?"

"Blaire..."

"Nah ah!" She raises a hand to stop me. "Don't start pitying me, babe. I'm good. And I'm definitely rooting for you! Even if Kyle and I aren't close, I know for a fact that he's not a bad person. When he found out that Ian and I were dating, he never once ran his mouth off about us to others."

As I mull over her words, she winks at me. "Instead of wasting time wondering if you guys will ever work out, why don't you find it out for yourself, Riley? If you stop yourself from doing something that you want, you would only end up regretting it in the future."

I'm stunned, realizing that her advice is something that I truly need. Before she sees it coming, I'm already hugging her out of gratitude.

"Thank you, Blaire."

***

In the late evening sky, the sun dips low in the horizon as the stars appear. The wind grows chilly and tosses my hair carelessly, whipping my face, but it doesn't bother me. In fact, all I see is the bunch of white roses resting on the cold tombstone. Ever so slowly, my eyes run across the words engraved on the stone, reading them with utmost care.

Ava Perez.

Beloved by family, cherished by friends.

Our shining star forever in our hearts.

I stare down at the white lilacs that I'm holding in my hands. Flowers for the dead.

I should cry, but I don't feel the tears coming. I'm strangely calm, unnerved by the sight of my mother's grave. A woman whose face I've clearly forgotten. My aunt tells me that while I was asleep, they did all they could to send her off safely. They held a private funeral, mainly because they didn't want our accident to make it to the top of the headline news and become the talk of the town.

And I appreciate that.

"Someone came before us," I hear Aunt Abbie mumble beside me. "Must be the old neighbors or her ex-colleagues."

She takes me by the arm and pulls us closer. She kneels and sweeps the dead leaves off the tombstone with her hands. "Hey, Ava." She greets my mother with a wistful smile. "I hope you've been doing well. And guess what? I brought your baby here today."

I was calm before, but that last line seems to stir something inside of me and overwhelm me with emotions. Swallowing hard, I kneel beside Aunt Abbie and place the flowers on top of the grave.

"Hey, Mom. It's me," I tell her quietly. "I'm finally here."

My words, or my presence at Mom's resting place, seem to trigger my aunt — a reminder of what we've lost. The next thing I know, she breaks into tears, saying how much she misses her older sister. I stay completely still, staring intently at the tombstone as if I'm in a trance.

In my mind, I recite Mom's name repeatedly, feeling as if I'm clawing through the thick fog in my head just to get to her.

Ava Perez is Mom.

Mom is Ava Perez.

There's a saying that goes like this; when we die, we're reborn as a star in the sky. I would like to think that she's still out there somewhere and watching over me. Over us. If she's looking at us now and can hear us, I wish to tell her this.

"I'm sorry," I whisper.

An unfilial daughter is what I am. I'm sorry for being the only survivor, for not being there for her when she laid to rest. I'm sorry for forgetting her.

But someday, I hope I'll remember her so that I can tell her I love her.

❤️