Hey Mom,
Dad told me about what happened — about what you did, and why. Don’t be upset with him; we both just love you and worry about you. I’m sorry for what you’ve been through. I can’t imagine how you must feel, but I want you to know I’ll support you, and help how I can — if I can.
I know you. You’re probably thinking that you don’t want to burden me. I’m telling you, you won’t. I would rather know about what’s going on with you, be an ear for you to talk to, than to learn second-hand about anything going on with, to, or about you. I’m thirty years old now — you don’t have to protect me anymore. It’s my turn to be there for you, as I am able.
Suicide is never an answer, Mom. I’m glad you’re getting help. I don’t want to lose you, not when we’ve just reconnected.
Love always,
Liam
Liam sat back and looked at the email he’d written, but hadn’t yet sent. It felt too short, too imperfect somehow, yet he couldn’t think of anything else to say. He might be able to, if he were talking to her directly, but he couldn’t think of anything else to say. Sure, he could tell her he knew Robert, but then, at the very least, he’d have to explain how he knew him. He wanted her to be happy, and according to his Dad, the happiest she’d ever been had been while she was with Robert.
He’d been tempted, more than once, to facilitate them getting back together, but that would necessitate his mother being brought into this world one way or another, and breaking his Dad’s heart. Every time, he tried to ignore the little voice in the back of his head, the one that whispered ‘Doesn’t he deserve it though? Wasn’t it his fault they separated all those years ago? Didn’t he disown you for being who you are?’
With a scowl, he clicked send on the email before closing the laptop and setting it aside. That voice had dug its nails in, and now he couldn’t get the thoughts out of his head. He closed his eyes, and thought back to that time.
Liam had been young, but he could remember them fighting, always trying to do so when they thought he wasn’t around, but he could still hear, still picked up on their cool attitudes towards one another — still remembered when they explained to him that Mommy and Daddy were going to live in different places for a while, since Daddy had to be away for work a lot. Even at six he knew what divorce was, and he’d worried about his parents splitting at the time — it was something he hadn’t wanted, something he was worried was his fault.
Initially, it seemed like not much had changed. Both parents worked long hours, and he was often left with his Uncle Ian. He’d begun to notice differences, though. Primarily, he’d stay in the home he grew up in with his mom, but when his father could spare time from work, he was at his apartment. It had been his father who had signed him up for martial arts classes due to the bullying at school, and he could remember a big fight happening between his parents over that, though his mom relented when she saw how much Liam enjoyed the sport.
In total, the separation had lasted around a year, maybe a little longer, before they got back together. He vaguely remembered a woman dropping by periodically while he visited his Dad, and he now suspected that could have possibly been Robbie’s mother. Never introduced as a girlfriend, but just as someone he worked with, it now seemed plausible that that was the case.
Liam growled ever so slightly as he tried to shake off the memories, finally getting up and heading to his studio to work on some of his art. The canvases for Tavi and Bethany could wait for now. He took his time, letting the setup for painting be his meditation to calm himself down before he set to work on the picture for Tamiel. It was not a large canvas, like the other two, but a smaller one, and was nearly finished. The sketching process is what had taken the longest, as he tried to figure out how Tamiel might see herself as a Messenger. Now he was just getting in the shades and highlights, wanting to have it ready by the party.
He didn’t understand how anyone could like Tamiel, but he was trying for the sake of Tavi and the rest of the system — and for Vince. For whatever reason, Vince tolerated her, and he didn’t think it was just about the sex, though admittedly it could be. After a while, he set the brush down, and began the process of cleaning up. Normally it was meditative for him to paint, but tonight it was hard to focus, as thoughts from earlier kept seeping in, along with everything that had been happening recently.
Clearly, he needed a distraction from everything. The only thing he could think to do was go dancing, and feeding. He was hungry, after all.