Small Stories!

The Path of Forgiveness #11

ALEXIS POV

The soft hum of the cappuccino machine in the background was a comforting sound, its rhythmic pulse accompanying my thoughts as I sat at the kitchen table, a steaming cup of coffee in hand. Soan, my 6-year-old son, was curled up on the couch, his small body wrapped in a cozy blanket as he drifted off into a peaceful nap. The quiet of the moment, the calm after our spirited afternoon at the park, was almost too perfect, too serene. I couldn't help but marvel at the beauty of it all—the stillness of the home, the laughter we'd shared, and the promise of an evening without interruptions.

But then, the familiar buzz of my phone shattered the tranquility. I glanced down and saw the name that instantly sent a ripple of unease through me: Evangeline. My mother. I hadn't spoken to her in a few days, but the timing of her call seemed odd.

 took a deep breath and answered, masking any hesitation in my voice. "Hey, Mom. What's up?"

Her voice, usually warm and confident, trembled ever so slightly, and it sent an icy chill through me. "Son, may I come over?" she asked, her words coming out slowly, like she was weighing each one before speaking. There was something unsettling in her tone, a quiet tension that I couldn't ignore.

"Of course," I said, my voice betraying none of the confusion that flooded my mind. "I'll be waiting."

An hour and a half later, the sound of her car pulling into the driveway broke the stillness of the afternoon. I stood up, brushing a hand through my hair, trying to shake off the unease that had settled in my stomach. As I stepped out into the yard to meet her, I noticed how the world seemed to stand still, as though waiting for something—waiting for her, or perhaps for the storm I felt brewing between us.

She parked and got out of the car, her expression unreadable as she walked toward me. Her presence was always commanding, but today, there was a frailty about her, something that tugged at my heart. I led her to the patio, where the garden sprawled out in front of us, the flowers in full bloom, the air crisp with the promise of an early evening. Yet, despite the beauty surrounding us, the tension between us was palpable.

We sat, but the silence felt heavy. The garden, so vibrant with life, seemed to mock the stillness of our words. My mind raced, wondering what had prompted her sudden visit. I watched her hands, clasped together in her lap, as she stared at them, her face etched with something I couldn't quite place—fear? Regret?

Minutes passed. The quiet stretched out. Finally, I broke the silence, attempting to ease the tension with a suggestion. "Would you like some coffee? Maybe a few cookies? It might help to settle the mood." I motioned for the maid to bring the refreshments, the aroma of the freshly brewed coffee offering a brief respite from the unease.

When the maid arrived and placed the tray before us, my mother's gaze remained fixed on me, her eyes dark with something I couldn't name. After a long, slow sip of her coffee, she set her cup down with a soft clink. "Son," she began, her voice quieter than usual, "I hope what I'm about to say won't anger you. And please, I need you to resist the urge to interrupt, as you always do. Just listen."

I swallowed hard, trying to maintain my composure. I had a feeling that whatever was coming wasn't something I was prepared for. I nodded, though impatience simmered beneath the surface.

She hesitated, her eyes flickering away from mine for a moment before she continued, her words carefully chosen. "It's about Soan. Have you noticed any changes in him lately?"

I furrowed my brow, caught off guard by the question. "Yes, I have. He's been... happier, more energetic, and expressive," I replied, though my voice carried a hint of uncertainty. I didn't know where this conversation was going, but I couldn't ignore the sense of dread building in my chest.