<b>He </b>was stil the reason she wasn’t whole.
He was still the reason she took those pills,
He was the reason she had to w her way through each day like survival was a punishment.
He hadn’t moved. Water still dripped from his chin. His shirt cor was slightly damp.
“Why haven’t you gotten better, mom?” he murmured, not sure if he was asking her or the reflection in front of him.
Years of therapy. Specialists. Even his therapist had been looped in more than once to help coordinate approaches.
But still.
Still, she had episodes<b>. </b>Still she dissociated. Still, she mistook him for someone he wasn’t.
Why?
Why didn’t she recognize that he was different<b>? </b>
He sshed more water on his face, then reached for the towel and dried himself off <b>roughly</b>.
How could a woman so
a woman so beautiful, so strong, still be unraveling after all these years?
He wanted things to go back to normal, but when had things ever been normal? He sighed bitterly.
God, how badly he wanted it. He wanted a version of life <b>where </b>he could walk into the kitchen and not be met with stiff silence or an emotional bomb.
He wanted a version where his mother could hug him without flinching.
Where her smile didn’t tremble at the corners like it was borrowed.
Where she could look at him and not see a ghost.
He however could me her as he hadn’t moved on either<b>. </b>
На
hadn’t let himselt
He wanted to me someone. Her. Himself. The man they lost. The man who hurt her and him.
But what good would that do? That bastard had been gone for years.
He straightened slowly and returned the towel.
Maybe it was time to change therapists. Maybe it was time to bring someone else in, someone new Someone who would force his mother to confront whatever the hell was still gripping her so tightly.
But he couldn’t make her let go. Not when he hadn’t let go either.
He turned and walked into his office, retrieving his phone from the desk. He hadn’t looked at it since he left.
The screen lit up instantly with dozens of missed calls.
All from his mother and multiple voice messag
His finger hovered over the first one, but he hesitated.
Then he hit delete till they were all gone.
He knew what they would say anyway. “I didn’t mean to I don’t know what happened Please, Alejandro”
They both knew it didn’t need exining. It wasn’t her. He knew it wasn’t her.
Der it still hurt.
He looked at his phone again, expecting a message from her, but there was nothing from Nivers
His chest tightened a little, stupidly Why did he expect a message?
She had
nd been there, she’d seen it all. Maybe she thought giving him space was bett
was better, especially as he has shut her off
Maybe she didn’t know what to say. Maybe she just didn’t care as much as he had hoped she did.
But still, she could have a text.
A part of him told himself he was being ridiculous. She wasn’t obligated to toxt him. She had stayed behind, after all, she was probably looking after his mother.
He had hoped.
She had this way of appearing just when he needed someone to be quiet with. Just when he needed someone to challenge him without asking too many questions.
He didn’t wantfort. He didn’t want sympathy.
He wanted her to text.
“Are you okay?” Something as simple as that.
But his screen was nk.
Sighing, he made his way to the ss windows, which provided him an aerial view of the city.
Everything looked normal out there<b>, </b>unlike him.
His thumb hovered over his phone screen. He could call the therapist now. Move up the next session. Ask for another evaluation, Demand that they do something. Anything
But what <b>was </b>the point? They had tried everything to get his mother <b>back </b>to normal
Still, it felt like if he didn’t do something, he might lose her entirely
And for all the silence. All the distance. All the mistakes.
He still <b>loved </b>her. After all, she was his mother
He didn’t know how long he stood there, staring into nothing. But eventually, his phone buzzed with a reminder–something about lunch with a senator he didn’t give a damn about, and so, he canceled it.
He stared at the calls he had received from his mother and <b>he </b>sighed.
He was itching to go
back home. But what would that do? He’d walk in, she’d cry, maybe try to hug him. And what would he do?
He didn’t <b>want </b>to hurt her more than she already hurt herself.
Distance. That was best. Tot now
He had told Niver to keep his mother wanty from keptors. What he hadcy cadas
keep me away from
Because if she ever looked at him that way again.
He didn’t know what part of him would further break.
E