My Mother’s Perfect AI Lied And Left Me For Dead Chapter 37
The following spring, I went back to the coast with my parents.
It was their first time visiting the memorial garden.
Dad carried a toolbox and tightened a loose handrail on the bench. Mom brought a bouquet of daisies and a few grilled cheese sandwiches.
“I don’t know what she liked,” Mom said. “The news only mentioned this.”
“She liked daisies,” I said. “The sandwiches were just something someone promised her later.”
Mom looked at me for a moment.
“Then what do you like?”
“I like the ones you make. Even if one side always gets burned.”
She laughed and gave me a light shove.
“Today’s didn’t burn.”
We finished lunch on the bench.
Dad didn’t ask how much I remembered. He only tightened the last loose screw, then went to check the frame around the photo.
Westley came down the path from the other direction.
He was holding the drawing.
It was sealed in a transparent, waterproof frame. The three people on the paper were still holding hands, though the crayon colors had faded.
When he saw us, he stopped and asked, “May I come over?”
I nodded.
He fixed the drawing beside the photo.
“She drew this when she was little.”