Silent

5. Your father knows nothing!

Isabella Harris had awoken early that morning, which was nothing unusual for her. She rarely slept long and the older she got the shorter she slept, but it could also be because ever since she retired four years ago, she enjoyed taking naps during the day.

She enjoyed the early morning calm when the surrounding neighborhood was still sleeping. If the weather allowed, she would have a quiet stroll around her small garden, admiring the sunrise while maintaining her plantations.

That morning had been foggy, however, and she left the gardening for later. She had her tea and porridge, sitting by the TV watching her favorite morning show. She would comment on it to a husband no longer with her more than in spirit, but she could always hear his answers in her mind that made her smile.

It was only seven thirty when the doorbell rang. No one usually visited that early except... Then she remembered how her grandson, when he had been little, had often snuck up to their place before the school started. Sometimes even on weekends because he too was an early bird like her.

After the talk she had had with her daughter the previous evening, it would not surprise her if she found Michael outside her door.

And there he stood, soft yellow sunlight of early morning rays through the hazy morning mist surrounding his misebale form. The boy held his one arm around his chest, the other holding a bag against his side, a lost and pleading look in his eyes, once so bright and joyful.

"Can I come in? I can't stand being at home," the boy asked insecurely. 

"Querido niño," Isabella sighed, "of course, you can." She held the door open for the boy who entered and looked so lost and broken that it pained her heart.

"Y-you know why I come?" he asked insecurity when the door closed behind him.

"I think I do and you are welcome to stay here, as long as you like," she assured with warmth in her tone, touching his cheek tenderly and he burst into tears right there in front of her.

"There, there," she whispered, pulling him close to a hug he clearly needed.

 If Michael wouldn't have come to her now as he did, she would have gone over to see him that afternoon, after school.

She had sensed the truth long before her daughter had spoken it. Evelyn was shocked and in denial, it was her fate, that cursed fate inherited from her husband. It was not that Isabella didn't believe in God, she did, but her vision of God was much more forgiving, much more loving. 

She, nor her husband had never been the ones to visit Church regularly. Her faith had always been more free-spirited, and sometimes even as a child, Evelyn seemed to have been bothered when her friends and their parents visited Church every Sunday. She had had a very charismatic religion teacher at school that had woken her curiosity and later when she had met Henry... She had been very willing and ready to embrace his beliefs and the fancy traditions of his Church.

Isabella didn't understand the strictness of Catholics, she never would. She had to admit she had felt disappointed when her daughter converted, but she was allowed to make her own choices and Isabella had not intervened. Now, she thought she had no choice but to intervene because they were hurting their child with those ridiculous beliefs. 

 What did it matter if Michael favored other men over women? Love was what mattered, only love mattered.

"Come, take your bag into the guest room and I'll put the kettle on," she spoke, smiling encouragingly at him as he wiped his tears away looking embarrassed after crying. "Don't worry, mi hijo, everything will work out," she assured him and he nodded hesitantly.