Takeout boxes littered the desk too, and I went to get a better look out of sheer nosiness, but she stepped closer to me, pulling the door a little shut behind her. I could see the flush of pink on her cheeks that told me she didn’t want me seeing the mess inside her space and I got it. It wasn’t fun showing people the physical manifestation of your suffering, even if the fact that letting others in to witness it was one of the best ways to heal.
“Lincoln, what are you here for, pet?” Her voice was rough, her eyes lined with darkness and pain.
She looked like she was struggling – like she was fighting a battle with herself to be normal.
A fight she was losing.
“Mom.” All the desire to get things sorted – the temper I had always wondered where I got it from that had been keeping me awake at night – vanished into a dull echo of a flame as I stared at her. “I love you, and I know you’re hurt right now but…” My hands clenched into fists, words dying.
“But what?” She frowned at me and I just knew the words that I would follow up with would feel like they burned my tongue.
“But I’m tired of picking up your slack as a parent.” I was almost right; the words felt like razor blades in my throat. “I’m not saying you were ever a terrible mom, because you weren’t. The trouble is you were just never around enough to be a great mom all the time and you’re doing the same thing now.”
Was I a complete piece of shit for being here? Did it make me the worst son in the world to tell her that I loved her, but she had failed a little as a mother, when her husband had only been dead for a few weeks? When my dad wasn’t even done haunting my nightmares, let alone enough of a memory for me to think of his name or face without wanting to cry… Fuck, I probably was a villain.
Swallowing down my self-hatred, I carried on talking. “I love Misha and I don’t for a single second regret anything I’ve done for him. But I’m his brother, I’m not his dad. I shouldn’t have had to help raise him – I shouldn’t have had to help raise everyone else, whilst you swanned off playing doctor. And I sure as fuck shouldn’t have to be the one keeping things together now when all I want to do is fall apart.”
The words I’d been holding in my chest for so long – for years, in some cases – came blurting out in a symphony of pain and disbelief that I was really doing this. I was doing thisnow. Of all the times in the world to ask – to ask why I had never got to just be a brother – was this truly the right moment?
“He watched his dad die in front of his eyes, and the girl he loves was kidnapped. Months after being tortured… and I don’t care what you need to do to help him. I don’t care what you have to promise your God to make you act like you’re doing better, but you need to do it. Misha needs you and I need you to help him. I need you to make him feel better because I don’t know how, and I can’t stand to watch him suffer.”
Once I stopped talking, the corridor was entirely silent for far too long. Long enough that tears streamed down my mother’s face, and I truly felt like a gigantic piece of shit. Even if I didn’t regret what I had said, I didn’t enjoy upsetting her. I didn’t want her to be hurting. And the burn in my throat and behind my eyes was more proof that I hated each word that had even said and would no doubt spend my night feeling far worse than I already did.
“Linc.” She whispered my name eventually, as she harshly wiped her eyes. “I… I don’t know… I think…” She cut herself off with a curse.
It was all too much for me to take – I hated seeing her cry.
“I’m gonna go, but yeah. It would be nice if you could come home.” I stepped back, feeling far too awkward to want to stay where I was and deal with the aftermath of what I had said.
But I didn’t make it far. Three steps down the corridor, my mother said my name again, and I turned back.
“Do you remember me telling you about my friend from college?”
It was an odd question to ask, but seeing at it was better than having her yell at me or something like I’d expected, I didn’t question her.
“Yeah. You gave me and Mish his name as our middle names.” I replied. “And I remember you saying he was a college friend, and he died.” I’d always found it a little odd that she had liked a man so much she named her kids after him, but it seemedI hadn’t been wrong in my assumption there was more to the story. For a moment later, my mother finally shared a secret I had always wondered about.
“He was murdered.” She corrected. “And he wasn’t my friend, he was my fiancé.”
I reeled back. “What?”
“He was older than me, but he was in a class of mine, and we worked together on a project and became inseparable after that.” She said slowly, wiping at her face. “We were soulmates, and I thought I had finally found happiness. But like with most things in life, it never worked out. He was taken from me, and I was left alone again – left to just deal with the rubbish that life throws at me.”
Guilt bit at my heart more than it was already. “How did he die?” I asked softly.
“It’s not important.” She waved me off. “But the reason I’m telling you is so that you understand I’ve done this before – I’ve lost someone that was mine more than once and I cannot handle it again.”
“Mom…” My voice broke.
She carried on talking. “Things aren’t supposed to be this way; things are supposed to be easy and they’re not. And I can’t keep pretending otherwise – I can’t keep acting for the sake of others.”
I got it. Even if I hadn’t lost my girl, I almost had more than once. It was the worst feeling in the world, and if that had been permanent? If Sapphire hadn’t fought to come back to us?
I would have died. I would have wanted to die.
I would have wanted to do worse than hide in a hotel away from everyone else.
“But that is why I’m here. One of the many reasons.” Mom sniffled. “I needed time to push past what I feel and remember the reality of my life. I needed a bit of space to come to termswith how things are now and what I can do next. That was all. I never did it to hurt Misha. I wouldneverhurt Misha. You should know that he’s my… that he is important to me.”
