The Weight of Shadows

Chapter 11

Still months went by but nothing changed. He had tried to put in effort to try to talk to his mother. Ask her how she's doing or if he could help her around the kitchen or cleaning but she would always brush him off. He thought that since they had that moment, they became closer or would have at least tried to get to know each other well, it would work.

He remembered what had happened three months ago and clenched his fists, trying to push away the impending flashback. But it was a futile effort as the darkness began to overwhelm his vision, pulling him back into the past.

A week after Adam broke down, Adam found himself lingering on the door of his mothers study on an evening hoping they could talk. The door gap enabled the lamp's gentle glow to enter, filling the dimly lit hallway with a cosy glow. Taking a deep breath, Adam lightly knocked on the door.

"Come in," his mother's voice called from the inside.

Adam hesitated, seriously regretting his decision before forcing himself to enter the room. His mother was seated behind her desk, papers spread out in front of her, eyes tired. She looked up upon Adam entering. Her expression didn't hint at anything as it was neutral but a bit distant.

"Hey," Adam began, voice slightly unsure, "I was hoping if we could... talk?

Orchid offered a polite smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. "Of course, what's on your mind?"

Uncomfortably, he shuffled, searching for the appropriate words. "What you mentioned the other day has been on my mind. About... helping me and being there for me." His tone grew softer. "Mum, I- I want to give it a shot. I want to get closer to you."

Orchid's smile faltered as she looked down. "I'm very glad to hear that Adam but I'm sorry, maybe later, I need to do this and I'm really busy at the moment."

Adam felt his heart sink, the warmth vanishing slowly. "I had the feeling that things may have changed by now. A- after everything we talked about."

Orchid sighed, finally meeting his eyes, "I'm still here for you Adam but things are complicated right now. I have responsibilities I can't ignore and you need to focus on your own healing."

Adam swallowed, hoping to mask the disappointment that was shown clearly on his face, "Yeah, I- Yeah I get it. I'm sorry for disrupting you."

Orchid smiled at him, firmly saying "One step at a time."

Adam nodded, forcing a smile and echoing what she said.

The room was abruptly colder and the space between them looked greater than before as he turned to go. Despite their brief moment of weakness, Adam realised as he gently closed the door behind him that certain things had remained the same.

Adam gasped for air as he was brought to another flashback.

In the days following their conversation, Adam found himself making more attempts at trying to talk to his mother as he wished to bridge the gap between them. The hope that flickered before refused to die out as completely even though every interaction dimmed it further.

One afternoon, Adam caught his mother in the kitchen cleaning up the dishes. He lingered in the doorway before deciding to speak up.

"Hey mum, do you need help?" he asked, unsure if she would accept.

"No dear, that's fine, I can do it myself," Orchid replied, as her hands stilled for a minute before working again.

Adam hesitated, unsure if he should ask, but he gathered his courage, hoping for an answer. "Are you sure?" he asked. When she nodded, he took a deep breath and asked the question that had been on his mind. "Well, I was wondering if you'd be up for a walk. Just you and me? Like old times?'"

Orchid paused, back still turned to him. Adam was seriously doubting himself as she was silent for a few seconds before she spoke, tone apologetic. "I would love to Adam but I'm swamped with a few things at the moment and I need to work on them today. Maybe another time?"

Adam's shoulder slumped slightly but he forced a nod along with an upbeat tone. "Yeah sure, another time."

He found her reading a book in the living room later that evening. Adam stepped closer to her, a timid smile on his lips. "What if we went to see a movie together? similar to how we used to?"

Looking up from her book, Orchid's features softened. "Adam, that sounds great. But I'm exhausted right now. Is it possible for us to do it tomorrow?"

"Tomorrow" passed and Adam tried to get back in touch, but he kept getting the same polite downward looks. Though the explanations varied each time (too much work, too exhausted, other commitments, the underlying message remained the same: not now.

Adam came into her study one morning with a cup of tea. He put it on her desk and said, "I made this for you."

Startled, Orchid raised her head. "Thank you, Adam." She accepted the cup with a warm, fleeting smile. "But right now, I'm pretty busy. Can we talk later?"

Adam nodded, the blow of rejection getting deeper every time. "Yeah, later."

However, 'later' never appeared.

Adam's hope started to fade as the days stretched into weeks. Each rejection was like a tiny cut that eventually grew into a large wound. Despite his best efforts to bridge the gap, it appeared to be becoming wider. The distance between them was growing larger and he soon found himself giving up.

Adam stood by the doorway, watching his mother and Azalea from a distance. They were sitting close, heads bent together over a book. Orchid laughed at something Azalea said, a soft genuine laugh he hadn't heard in years. It seemed that he couldn't make her laugh but Azalea did?

His chest tightened as he tried to swallow a lump in his throat. He had genuinely thought things would have changed after their talk, but now watching them, he felt more distant to his mother than ever.

Gathering his courage, Adam stepped into the room. "Mom?" voice tentative, laced with the hope that maybe, this time, she'd see him.

Orchid glanced up, a smile still persisting. "Oh, Adam! Did you need something?"But before he could, Azalea chimed in, asking another question, and Orchid's attention snapped back to her. The moment was gone.

Adam balled his hands into fists by his sides. He forced a smile that stopped short of his eyes and nodded. "Nevermind. It doesn't matter."

Adam had one last drop of courage to do this. So one night, Adam stood outside her bedroom door, his hand hovering over the handle. He had come to talk to her once again, to try and break through the barrier that seemed to keep them apart. But as he stood there, he hesitated, the weight of all the previous failed attempts pressing down on him.

With a heavy sigh, Adam lowered his hand and stepped back. He turned away from the door, retreating into the shadows of the hallway, feeling more alone than ever.

The sense of betrayal and abandonment that had haunted him for years now had a new face, one that looked heartbreakingly familiar.

Slowly, the blackness retreated and his surroundings became more visible as the flashback lessened its hold on him. He took a sharp breath and felt his chest constrict as the starting of a panic attack gripped him. The smell of citrus flooded his senses, his nose crinkled while tears blurred his vision, streaming down his cheeks, as he struggled to hold back the sobs that were desperately trying to escape.

He couldn't do this anymore.