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One month had gone by since her brief contact with her daughter. Shelby had only one certainty: she shouldn’t have done it.
She couldn’t get back all that time spent apart from Rachel. She looked to one of the shelves on the wall. It had been some years since the last time she saw the pictures on the only photo album she was able to keep.
If anyone asked her, she would surely deny everything she had gone through during her teenage years and her youth – not because she was ashamed, but because she wanted to be seen as something bigger than what she had once been.
She walked slowly, approaching the album while lightly biting her lower lip, as if she didn’t quite had the guts to make that trip into her past.
She heard soft knocks on the door and, if she believed in these things, she would know it was a sign not to disturb the memories of the ones already gone.
- Rachel? I thought that…
- I’ve talked with my fathers and, well, they brought me here. I wanted some tips for a future presentation and…
- Rachel, I coach from the rival team. You remember that, don’t you?
- I just wanted to get to know you.
Shelby took a deep breath to think clearly and looked back over her shoulder to the album on the shelf.
- Come on in.
Rachel made herself comfortable on the couch and lost herself in thought looking at the walls covered with musical posters – it seemed that they shared the same passion: the stage.
- Would you like something to drink? Water? Coffee? Soda? I know I need some wine.
- Water, please. – Shelby walked into the kitchen, remembering that whenever Rachel was upset her fathers gave her water. Yes, she really shouldn’t have forced that contact between them.