“You- you wanth me to go away?... You want me to go away, don'th-you? Sinceth Papa Ryan's no longer with us, you can't pretend to love me anymore, can you? You can't stand me anymore, I know...”
“Vic... no...”
“Can I... can I at leasth ask you this favor, Muddy?”
“Vic-...”
“I know that- that I'm not your real child, but, but Muddy pleach, if you're going to abandon me, don't take me back to an orphanage pleaseth... I- I... I want to have a family. At leach leave me with Uncle Derek if you can't stand me anymore. I know you're not happy. I'm sorry.”
I'm completely petrified to say the least. I-I can't move, my hands are shaking, and my feet are mummified. I've got a big, cloying lump in my throat, as if someone had wrapped his hands around my neck and was strangling me with all the violence he could muster so that I couldn't reveal the secret that would cost him years in prison. I want to say something, I want to hold my son back as he climbs the stairs sobbing, but I can't. I can't do anything. I can't manage to do anything. Is that what he thinks? He... He really believes that all this time I was pretending to love him? Does he think Ryan loved him more than I did? Does he think Ryan was a better parent than I was? I-I don't know what I did to give him that impression? That feeling of being... DIVINE GOODNESS! I've given my life for these kids; I've done fucking things I'm not even comfortable with. Fuck, I've just been humiliated for misgendering a teacher I originally thought was a cross-dresser. I gave everything I had... It's not much I know, but it's all I had to offer. But I'm a fucking terrible parent, and Ryan... He's always been better than me.
My brain goes into overdrive, my thoughts jumble and swarm ... I have some semblance of a headache, but I don't know... What could have happened between school and now... I don't understand, was it that bad. I'm struggling to find intact memories.
“Hum hum... Mr McLores... are you- are you all right?”
“I know _ hum hum _ I know you told me earlier that I'm not your psychologist, but I'd like to-...”
“I'm fine, Lance. I'm fine, thanks...”
I can't help pulling at my long hair, it's a nasty habit that's come to me from who knows where and flares whenever I'm under stress.
“Lance.”
“Yes, sir?”
“I'm sorry about earlier. I didn't mean to be so disrespectful and rude. It's just that I feel like I'm doing everything wrong lately, and despite feeling like I'm doing my best, nothing's working. Nothing works, Lance. But I'm trying, I swear I'm trying but it's not working and now I'm going to make my children suffer... I'm doing all this for them, do you understand me, do you understand? I- I want so much to break down and cry right here, right now. I've never had this life, I don't know which step to put in front of the other, what I should say, when I should say it. I swear I'm trying. I swear, I swear.”
I'm a pathetic mess, because even now, I'm crying like a fucking baby. That's all I know how to do lately, cry, scream, yell, cry while talking.
“I understand. I assure you I understand you, sir. I shouldn't... But if you want my advice, keep trying. Because I'm telling you, you're the only person in your life who's ever tried. You don't deserve what's happening to you. You don't deserve it, Mr. Treize.”
Of course I deserve it, Lance. I'm so stupid and pathetic. Although I don't really understand the sudden use of my name 'Treize'. Beyond the car window, life is bubbling at Windrop. People look happy. If only I could just pretend for a moment.
“Lance-”
“That was Dereck with the kids, sir. They're on their way home. They'd gone for ice cream. He said_ he sighs as if to instill a little more audacity in himself_ he said the little one wouldn't stop crying and he wanted to take his mind off it before-”
“Thank you.”
Things would have been so different if he'd still been alive. He would have gone to that recital, with two tubs of chocolate that I would have made myself. He would have taken his children to see a show and play in the circus. They would have laughed and chatted and talked about the new episodes of Phineas and Ferb or tried to find out which of Messi or Ronaldo was the best or which superhero was the strongest. Moon would have been bored to death, then Ryan would have caught up. He would have snooped into her private life, looking to see if she had a young boy courting her. He would then do a bad imitation of a strict father with a fake deep voice “Young lady, if you have a boyfriend, he must show up at your father's house!”. Embarrassed, she would have sulked at him all evening and glued herself to her phone, gossiping about the new hot tea with her best friend after uttering a “you're the worst dad in the world”, but deep down she's more than happy to have her dad Ryan interested in her private life and giving her sex education sessions...
So all this was for me to take over? Was I supposed to love them and protect them? Love them and punish them? Why did you leave me like that? With so many questions, with who, how, why? You left me still fragile; did you really expect me to carry all these burdens? That I could be a parent to Vic and Moon at all times? That I could educate Moon about condoms or pills to prevent her from getting pregnant in the madness of teen years? That I could talk to Vic about Batman or Captain America when I've never been able to finish the first chapter of Harry Potter? That I must try to do you justice and finally let your soul rest in peace? That I must love you even in death? That I was to be both protector and defender and all those other things... Ryan, that wasn't my role! That wasn't my fucking role. Why, why, why. How do you expect a fragile object to load all that up and not break? Because that's what you left, I'm breaking, and I'm breaking your poor kids at the same time. It's all your fault! EVERYTHING, EVERYTHING, EVERYTHING! You didn't have to die stupid; you didn't have to listen to me and go get the fucking birthday cake, you didn't have to come home so fast, you didn't have to take the fucking front entrance. You should've had Lance come with you, or Dereck, or Jules... it should've been somebody else and not you idiot. I hate you so much. I hate you; I hate you.
“The myth of ‘Mason Treize’ the poor victim is finally collapsing”
“Wh-What?”
“I can't wait for everyone to realize what a miserable scoundrel you are. Poor Vic, you're going to do the same thing to him as you did to my father, aren't you? You're so pathetic.”
“Good luck fixing that.”
She'd waved to the floor where Victory surely was. She'd grabbed an apple off the dinner table and bolted for her room. Moon was a mixed bag, throwing things at me that I didn't understand. “The same thing to him as I did to her father?” Am I the one who had the fucking gun and strafed her father's torso? I_ I sighed again because goodness, frankly_ I'd have time to think about Moon and her insults later.
I knew where to find Vic. When he had a bruised heart, he'd run to Ryan's workshop. He did it even when Ryan was still alive. The habit has grown since his father died. Ryan had an obsession with sculpting handicrafts. He would carve strange bariques, cups, glasses, coffin-like pots _things I found so mournful and strange_ with lots of weird, ancestral designs. The heads of fetishes were interwoven with these motifs, as were depictions of weeping women and archaic mosaics. I'd tried to find out why he was so obsessed, because that's what it was, an obsession; and he'd just brush it off with an “oh, it's nothing, just a little something I learned on my trip to Africa”. He spent hours in that workshop, when he wasn't in an operating room trying to save lives. He often had exhibitions for Windrop and that made him enough money, and Windrop too so I wasn't complaining, nobody was complaining here anyway.
I had, however, forbidden him to teach our son this... thing. But as they say, like father, like son. Vic adored his dad and wanted to be just like him in every way. He even wanted to become a surgeon like Ryan. I always said he should become an actor or a comedian...
“Can I come in, angel?”
“This-isth your house... I'm not welcome here so...”
And I sigh again.
“Once upon a time there was a tiny dragonfly that had lost almost all its teeth-”
“Oh no... not that story!”
“The little dragonfly lived very happily with her two daddies -”
“Muddy, no, I'm not a little dragonfly. I'm NINE YEARTHS-OLD!”
“oh oh oh ALMOST nine years old! And nine isn't that old, plus you've got no teeth”.
“But I still have teeth”
“Not for a long time at this point! Shall I go on with my story?’’
“No.”
He had turned around and was leaning against a sort of pot containing a packet of clay. I come and sit next to him. I rest my head against his shoulder.
“I wanted to pack, but my things are too high up in the cupthboarsd. I promise I'll tell Moon later so she can come and help me.”
I could hear his little sniffles. My little boy was crying again, and it broke my heart. I turn him against me.
“Vic... Muddy's sorry. I'm sorry, Vic. Sometimes adults can be... stupid and reckless and dishonest. I promise you, as soon as I remembered I ran immediately to your school. I know that I'm not like your dad Ryan, that I'm not going to bring you a tub of chocolate made in one of those weird pots, that I'm not going to send you to the zoo to see an elephant give birth. I know I can't replace Ryan, because I'm not Ryan and I don't know how to do what Ryan could do. But believe me, my angel, I love you as much as he did. As hard as I could ever love anyone, and I never let the fact that you were adopted decide how I should love you. The first day we set foot in that orphanage, we knew it was you. And I've wanted and loved you from the start. I don't care if you're my blood. I love you because my heart chose you and you're doing me the greatest honor by choosing me too. Please forgive me sweetie-”
“Muddy.”
“I'm sorry Vic, and I'll do my best. I promise you; I promise you and your sister that when this is over, we'll get out of here and I'll give you the life you deserve... Please bear with me, give me time. I promise I'll be there for you. I'll go to all your recitals, all the competitions you enter. I'll send every tub of chocolate you want. I'm sorry, my angel. Please forgive me.”
“I love you, Muddy”
“I love you too, angel.”
I hugged my child; he deserved the whole world. My heart couldn't bear to lose him. Adopted or not, I wanted him from the first day Ryan and I walked into that orphanage and saw him sitting alone against a tree with his red Power Ranger figurine. I wanted him the moment I saw him, and I'll want him forever. My son isn't a transaction I'm abandoning out of hardship. He's my son.
“So how was the competition?”
“Goodsss... I'm selected for the next round. I finished second.”
“Oh... But who's the little bum who dared to steal first place from my son, the smartest guy on the whole planet?”
“Muddy! You said an insult!”
“Well, I'm a grown man, I can say that.”
“Hummm no! And it's not a boy but a girl. Her name-isth Henrieth!”
“Henrieth? Hmm... What a funny name!”
“No, no! Henrieth with two t's at the end.”
“Oh... Henriett. I'd forgotten that your teeth were almost gone.”
“That's not funny, Muddy”
“I wonder... How did you manage to finish second with your current pronunciation? The kids over there must be unbelievably terrible! Congratulations Henriett!”
“THAT'S NOT FUNNY!”
“Okay okay I'll stop.”
I giggle and stick my tongue out at him. Ah my son, he's a comedian.
“Muddy, since everything's fine now, can I keep this book? Please, pleach, pleaseth!”
He brings out a magazine he's been sitting under. I wanted to say yes, after all it was just a simple book. No big deal... but after a good inspection...
“VICTORY RAFAEL EMERSON TREIZE-MCLORES! WHERE DID YOU FIND THIS ADULT MAGAZINE? OH MY GOD! YOU WILL NOT PLAY ANY VIDEO GAME FOR A WHOLE WEEK! NO FOR TWO WEEKS! OH MY GOD!”.
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