I Wish [ManxMan]🦂

sTEVE ~07

I’m numb, at the moment. I’m like a gourd that has been scooped out until it’s hollow. That’s me, the hollow pumpkin man.

For a moment, Drayton made me forget. Made me wish. But even now, he can't stop what's coming.

I look at my mother's eyes. There are a lot of things I need to say. Ten years of words that are buried deep inside me. But even one can't seem to make it out of my throat. To my mouth.

What would I say? I am sorry. Please forgive me. How are you? You look older. Have you been taking care of  yourself? Do you take medicine regularly? Have you stopped drinking? Mom…I miss you.

But i am stupid because i keep looking at her, not even opening my mouth.

She is older. Her hair is gray. Her face is full of wrinkles. In ten years she has aged more than the twenty five years I have known her. I see some dark spots under her eyes, they weren't there before but they don't make her ugly. Just beautiful. 

I didn't know I was touching her face until she leaned in my touch, my heart lean with her. I miss her. I miss her so much.

I have been gone. I have no clue what happened after I saw her in court that day. Because I refused to see her when she came to visit me. I refused to make her suffer for my mistakes.

 It’s not even a blur. It’s nothing. Vacant. A bare dirt patch in the landscape of memory.

I remember lying in  bed, feeling my mother's warmth recede from the sheets.

I think Carter was there, maybe he spoke to me, maybe he simply sat next to me. I don’t know.

I didn't weep. I wonder if I will.

"My baby is back." She says with a smile on her face. I follow the action like she is some kind of a specimen. I can't help it. 

I hold my tears. Shallow breath as my words can't seem to come out yet. Or maybe I am scared that if I open my mouth, something else will come out. 

Pain.

Anger.

Or even sobs.

This isn’t grief, or sadness. This is a void. Emotional emptiness. All of my sadness has been burned through, all my grief used up.

There is no more panic. No more desperation. I feel nothing, and I wallow in it like a sow in muck.
It will break, and soon. I know this. I can feel it coming, the tide of sorrow. I feel like someone standing on a beach, watching the water recede, leaving fish flapping and crabs snapping and fronds of seaweed laying limp…watching this means a tsunami is coming.

If you see the waters recede, then it’s usually already too late to run.

So it is with me. There is no stopping what’s coming.
But it’s not here yet. Or is it?

I am terrified to cry in front of my mother. To break down in her arms. Because I know she broke the day I went to prison. And years after that.

I take a deep breath and a tear drop on my cheek. I couldn't stop it. "I am a grown man now, mama." I tell her. "I am grown now."

"No. You will always be my little baby to me." 

"No, mama."

"Yes baby."

This time I don't argue with her. I don't deny it. I hug her so tight. I hug her with everything I have got and lay all my weight on her.

She doesn't sway. She stands still and holds me tighter. 
And for the first time in  years. I cry. 

"Mama."

"Yes, baby."

"I love you."

She stays silent. Hold me tighter. And for a second the only voice I hear is her heartbeat and mine.

Then.

"I love you too baby. Always."