Hello my name is: a PruCan fanfic

Chapter 8

It was awkward to say the least. Sitting around the living room with a heavy heart and scattered emotions. I stared at my hands most of the time. A hour into this visit and I relaxed.

Everyone decided to stop trying to talk to me fifteen minutes into the meeting, being I broke down every time they did. I felt relieved when they began to relax around my presence like Alfred already had. Soon enough we were sitting around TV watching America's Funniest Home Video's, and I was never more grateful for lame comedy.

When it became time to eat my Mom disappeared into the kitchen. The funny thing was everytime Alfred called her 'mom', such a simple statement that is used a lot, I would break a little on the inside. I wasn't sure what was cracking, but it was painful.

Could I call her Mom? Was that allowed? I had a hard time even thinking the name as Alfred turned to me with a giant smile.

"Wanna play video games?"

My throat still felt tight and I was afraid if I spoke that my voice would crack, so I kept my mouth shut and nodded.

Halfway through Mario my mom.... Alfred's mom. Someone's mom poked their head onto the room with an apologetic smile to my twin.

"Matthew? Can you come into the bedroom with me?"

There was a sound in her voice. The sound of "We need to talk." Nodding, I got up and silently walked, wondering if my expression mirrored the dread and anxiety I felt.

Once I entered she was sitting on the bed waiting for me. She had changed into sweat pants and a black shirt, just piling her blonde hair on top of her head in a messy bun. Perched on her nose were a pair of glasses. She looked young, too young to have a set of twins and be divorced.

Shutting the door behind me, she looked at me sadly before standing up and hugging me.

I stood there stiff and rigid until I heard her cry.

The emotions I've been trying to keep at bay over flowed at that moment and crossed on my face as I pulled her into a hug and began to cry weakly on her shoulder.

"I'm sorry..."

She whispered quietly as she slowly began to regain her composure, but a bitter laugh only escaped me as I backed away and looked down.

"Sorry? You left me for so long..."

My voice cracked at the end of that sentence. Could I even tell her about the beatings? She was practically a stranger, a stranger I call mom. I don't even know her personality besides the fact she cheated on my dad and every thing Alfred has told me. How could I trust her to be kind to a man she destroyed?

"I know. I want to make up for it."

"How! How could you possibly just take back abandoning one of your children for ten years!"

Tears began to flow again as I paced. I couldn't stay still. There was too much energy and emotion pulsing through me.

"I want to be here now."

"You can't just take back the pain it caused!"

"But I want to try to be your mother again."

"Yeah, well Dad wanted to try to stop beating me but he couldn't do that either!"

My voice cracked as the room became deafeningly silent. I felt as if I was suffocating on the air I was breathing. I didn't want to hear her speak. I just wanted to leave. I was glad that she seemed at a loss of words.

Before I knew it I was hugging her. I couldn't keep secrets from her when I was a five year old, and I still can't keep secrets now.

"I never meant to get you hurt."

"Breaking up broke him. We look too similar. You were his life."

"It just didn't work. I knew he loved me. He was always a energetic man. I thought he'd bounce right back."

"He didn't. He started to destroy everything he touched."

"I love you Matthew. I never forgot."

"I love you too, Mom."

After that we just sat there and hugged each other. I hadn't forgiven her. That will take a long time, and there's a lot of things we need to talk about. Most of them pertained to Dad. We were at a peace though, and for the rest of the night we kept it.

We played games, and laughed. We talked and the two shared stories. I didn't have any to share. I hadn't gone anywhere in life that was even relatively interesting. It also turns out that everything I told Alfred he replayed back to mom.

When I had to go back she dropped me off in front of the house, but she stopped me before I could open the door and escape back into a Hell. Back into a home. Back into the unknown.

"What about him? Does he still beat you? I can get you evicted, you can live with me."

Glancing at the house I saw a few lights were on indicating he was up. I could end this here. Take away the last piece of his family, take his house, and put him in jail. Stop the beatings entirely, maybe even go into a stable home. Live with Alfred and mom. Be.... normal?

I don't have the heart to destroy him.

He's been trying to get better. The days without beatings were growing and he was attending AA meetings.

"He doesn't."

She nodded her head and took her hand away from my wrist. Sighing she examined the house wearily.

"I love you..."

"I love you too, bye mom."
_______________________

Entering the house I smelt cooked chicken right away. Instead of the smell of alcohol and bottles littered everywhere it was clean. The stains were still there, but there was wear, as if someone had tried desperately to scrub them out.

Carefully I turned the corner and glanced to see him in the kitchen. My father was cooking. Turning around to me he smiled. An actual smile. Not a scowl, or a cruel smirk. That's when I figured out he was completely sober.

My lip quivered again as I saw a long, lost sparkle in his eyes. Sniffling I watched as he opened his mouth to say something. He seemed to noticed this as I quickly wiped my eyes with a soft,

"Sorry."

"It's fine. I found someone."

That's why he was sober. I felt happy.

"Congratulations. Is that why you cleaned?"

He laughed softly, and I smiled meekly. He was only sober once or twice a year, usually when he had an important business meeting. Whenever he was though, we got along.

"Chicken?" I question as he turned around to check on the meat, listening as he laughed softly again.

"She said she liked chicken! I was practicing."

"You're a horrible cook."

"How do you know!"

"When I was younger you burnt my Mac-and-Cheese!"

"That was like, what? Ten years ago! A man can change!"

"A man can, but their cooking can't..."

He looked exasperated after that as he looked at me. Putting on a childish pout, I snorted. He reminds me of Alfred when he's sober.

That night I sat with him for a second dinner, not that I ate much since he burnt and over seasoned the chicken. It turnt out there was a hockey game on tonight and we watched it together. Hugging each other before I went to bed, I sat in my room with a small smile, staring at the homework in front of me.

The sappy love letter was the only thing I had left at the end of the night. In the end, I could write the whole thing easily.

It turns out I was wrong, I do know love. I'm just too blind to see it sometimes.

(A/N:
Happy Valentines Day!)