Our Past - Quackity

4

this whole thing's trash but who gives a damn, I'll just keep writing it whatever

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His job sometimes feels like something to pass the time, to fill the hours during the day, when the running of the weeks is perceived so slow and distant for Alex. Thursday.

It isn't like there's anything special for that day either. The law student, Wilbur, is coming back in his second session for some counseling, but nothing more. It's not like Alex can interrogate him and try to intrude on his life and his family relationships. Creepy, uncalled for and simply unprofessional. Alex can understand if showing too much interest in his private life for no apparent reason might urge Wilbur to find another lawyer who can help him and never talk to Alex again. Nor can he just say something along the lines of "excuse me, I think you may have to my son whom I had to leave sixteen years ago to run away from my abusive and alcoholic boyfriend, are you sure your brother's name is spelled with m and not with b?"

Sure, there can always be a more subtle way of approaching the subject, but Alex doesn't know where he could even start. Asking about Wilbur's little brother immediately after learning of his existence will only make him look like a predator. He doesn't need any of that.

The man rubs his hands and constantly tousles his hair. His watch seems to laugh at him, and every time he glances at it, the needles move a little slower. Alex knows that he should use this time to plan what he is going to do. Wilbur Watson won't be around his office much. A few visits to receive professional advice in sessions of less than two hours and then Alex probably won't see him again, when the man returns to his university obligations, to make his own life and his own professionalism.

To be honest, Alex could just try to create at least some kind of friendly bond, however small it may be. He can put aside his more professional and serious face a bit and be more relaxed and camaraderie with the other. His personality by itself is quite natural and not difficult when he sets out to be like that. He just has to be himself. But Alex doesn't know how natural he can be knowing that Wilbur Watson is, possibly the only thing that separates him from his child whom he hasn't seen in sixteen years. Just thinking about it makes him shake and creates a lump in his throat.

What will he be like? Alex wonders.

The lawyer vaguely remembers the small features of his face, when he finally began to present them after he was born. Although there were hardly any changes in his appearance, at such a young age, the first two months of his life were too short of a period to archive his appearance and treasure it as the image of his Tobías. Alex can recall that his little Toby tragically looked too much like his father. Schlatt.

Alex wonders what life would have been like if he could have been with Toby until at least his first year, where his physical and individual characteristics would have already been more defined. He could have known his personality and his voice. Maybe he even could have heard him call him "dad". The man's heart narrows as he remembers once again that he was never there to see him grow. To see him walk, to hear him talk, and to just be there. All this makes his mind wander and he fantasizes about a life where he would never have had to leave his baby behind and today they could live together in the apartment that the lawyer pays for without problem. All his life have always been apartments.

The wandering of his mind is stopped by Alex himself. This is no place to lament. The young man did what he did for the better, especially for his little one. His time for mourning has already passed, he has already sworn to leave behind the "what-ifs" that torture his soul so much. The only thing that lies ahead is the future and Alex knows that by clinging to the past he will never move forward. He at least knows Tobías is out there, maybe closer than he could have ever thought when he left him in that box with a shattered heart.

Alex is determined to finally free himself from the shackles of yesterday and leave the pain behind. He hopes to find his son, completely opposed to letting go of the opportunity that young man Alex could not have even dreamed of those nights waking up in tears and eagerly feeling the bed, in a desperate search for his son.

Sitting at his desk early Thursday morning, Alex is still not sure how he is going to approach Wilbur Watson about the situation.

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I realized kinda too late that Facebook is a thing, and if this was a realistic story Alex would already have stalked the shit outta everyone with the last name Watson (taking the suspense away) so, for the sake of suspense and storytelling i guess, let's make it so either, Facebook doesn't exist (either yet or at all) or they're just in like, idk the 90's?

Some era where cellphones existed but social networks didn't (although i mentioned a voice message last chapter, and i think those are fairly modern i don't really know) big oof. (I'm thinking about editing that, i probably will)

I know, lazy solution but i don't wanna sit here cracking my skull trying to conjure some complex stuff to justify the plot. I'm not a good writer, still an amateur, and not a good one at that. Let's just, let's just imagine those personal profiles with photos and all of your information on display don't exist, okay? Okay bye

(Or if you have knowledge about it, you can help me out here. I'm really uneducated about technology, ironically cuz I'm "young" but whatever)

(the author note's is longer than the chapter, cringe)