Star-Crossed ✔️

24

- 24 -

My parents split up when I was ten and Lina was six. It was messy and brutal and sent both of them spiraling one way or another.

Dad was never very affectionate. The closest form of showing his love for Lina and I were drunken admissions of guilt, claiming he should have been around more when we were younger. I agreed wholeheartedly; he should've been. But those wounds were old and scarred by now.

And Mom . . . well. She was diagnosed with BPD about five years ago and things have gotten significantly worse with her. Since I lived across the country, Lina had to deal with the brunt of her disease. She said Mom would disappear off the face of the earth for a few months and then just appear at her job with a new boyfriend and a business idea. Then Lina would have to break it to her that it was a terrible idea and not to ask me for funding for it. It was always either manic episodes or depression pits with my mom. She never took her meds as promised, so Lina was at her wits end.

I didn't talk to either of my parents much. Dad wasn't worth my breath half the time and Mom was unavailable the other half—physically and mentally.

But when I was in town, I made an effort to give her a visit to remind her I was still doing okay. I had a soft spot for my mother. She wasn't always like this, or so I thought. Looking back, the signs were there and she was better at masking the disarray of her brain.

Noah always liked my mom because she treated him like one of her own when we were young. I now knew it was actually because his own kin never had his best interests in mind. His mom would let him get abused by a stranger for a paycheck rather than protect him. At the very least, though she had her faults, my mom would catch a murder charge for me.

Especially when she was manic.

Her hair was longer than the last time I saw her. Grey streaks had started at the roots, cascading the fraying brown that Lina inherited from her. I nearly didn't recognize her when she opened the door.

But her face lit up the way it always did when she saw me. The days between each visit grew larger in number every time I left. Her big hazel eyes crinkled at the sides, pink stained lips spreading into a warm, familiar smile.

"Theodore," she cried before pulling me into an embrace. My eyes instantly closed when I caught her smell, the smell that raised me and surrounded me since birth. "My baby."

I hugged her for I don't know how long with Noah lingering behind me on the front porch step. Her tears dampened my T-shirt, sinking into my skin like drops of home. Mom laughed into my chest like she always did when she thought her emotion was an affect of her mental illness, but it wasn't this time. This was raw and real; the pain of missing me and the art of filling a deep hole carved from a long term absence. I let her think otherwise.

She pulled away and wiped at her eyes, her dark eyeliner that she never seemed to let go of since the nineties smudging at the corners. "Sorry, I'm a bit emotional," she said as I stepped aside to give her a view of Noah. Her eyes widened and filled with tears once again, arms widening for Noah to step into. He melted into her touch just as I did. "My God, look at you!" Mom held his shoulders as she craned her neck back to inspect him closely.

"It's really great to see you, Ms. Bauer," Noah said and she swooned, pinching his cheek. If I wasn't still upset with him, I'd have found the whole thing endearing.

"Come on in," she said, swinging the door open wider for us to enter. "I was just about to start fixing lunch. Are you hungry?"

I could eat. Noah hadn't gotten breakfast since he hurried to shower and come with me right after his hike. He fell into conversation with my mom about remembering how much he loved her cooking back in the day. Much like when he seemed to lock into place with Lina, I just shuffled behind the two of them as they made their way to the kitchen.