Is That Mom

Part 2 of Chapter 2

Chapter 2:

Ethan's Growing Determination

—

Part 2:

Grandma’s Hesitation

The house was unusually quiet as Ethan and his grandmother moved downstairs. The light filtering through the heavy, old-fashioned curtains was weak, casting a soft, sepia tone over everything in the dimly lit living room. It felt like stepping back in time, into a room that had been preserved for years, untouched by the outside world. The ticking of the grandfather clock echoed through the silence, marking each second as if counting down to an inevitable confrontation.

Ethan's mind was still racing from the discovery in the attic. The photograph had awakened a swirl of emotions—curiosity, confusion, and a gnawing sense of something just out of reach. As they stepped into the living room, he could feel the tension between him and his grandmother, an invisible barrier that seemed to grow thicker with every passing moment. She avoided looking at him, instead focusing on folding a pile of laundry that was neatly arranged on the coffee table, her hands moving with practiced precision.

For a few minutes, neither of them spoke. The only sounds were the rustling of fabric and the rhythmic ticking of the clock, creating a fragile sense of normalcy. But Ethan could feel the questions building up inside him, like a pressure that needed to be released. He knew he couldn’t let it go—not this time.

“Grandma,” he began, his voice breaking the silence, “I need to know more about that photograph.”

She didn’t look up, her fingers deftly folding a shirt, smoothing out its creases with deliberate care. “Ethan, I told you, it was taken a long time ago. There’s nothing more to say,” she replied, but her voice was strained, the calmness forced.

Ethan watched her carefully, noticing the way her hands trembled slightly as she continued folding. It was a small thing, but it told him more than her words ever could. She was nervous, maybe even scared. But why? What was it about that photograph that made her react this way?

“It doesn’t make sense,” he said, trying to keep his voice steady, though he could feel the frustration creeping in. “If it’s just an old photo, why are you acting like this? Why won’t you tell me where it was taken?”

For a moment, she froze, the shirt slipping from her grasp and falling into a crumpled heap on the table. She stared down at it, as if the answer could be found in the tangled fabric, and then slowly raised her eyes to meet his. There was something in her gaze that Ethan couldn’t quite place—a mix of sadness, fear, and a hint of defiance. It was as if she was bracing herself for a conversation she had hoped to avoid.

“It was just… a friend’s place,” she said, her voice barely more than a whisper. “Your mother and I used to visit there sometimes. That’s all.”

Ethan shook his head, feeling a flicker of anger. He could hear the evasiveness in her tone, the way she was trying to brush off his questions with vague, half-answers. But he wasn’t a child anymore, and he wasn’t going to be satisfied with the same old excuses. “You’re lying,” he said, the words sharper than he intended. “I’ve never seen that place before. And if it was just a friend’s house, why won’t you tell me more about it?”

His grandmother’s face paled, and she looked away, focusing intently on the laundry as if it could shield her from the conversation. “Ethan, please,” she said, her voice trembling. “Let it go. Some things are better left in the past.”

“Why?” he pressed, leaning forward, his eyes locked on hers. “What’s so terrible that you can’t even talk about it? If there’s something I need to know, you should tell me.”

The room seemed to grow smaller, the air thicker, as the tension between them reached a breaking point. Ethan could feel his heart pounding in his chest, each beat echoing in his ears. He had always trusted his grandmother, believed that she was the one person who would never keep secrets from him. But now, as he watched her struggle to find the right words, he realized that there were parts of her life—of his mother’s life—that he had never been allowed to see.

“Ethan, you have to understand…” she began, but her voice faltered, and she took a deep breath, as if trying to steady herself. “Your mother… she made choices. Choices that were hard for all of us. I tried to protect you from them because I thought it was the right thing to do.”

“Protect me?” Ethan’s voice was incredulous. “From what? I deserve to know the truth about her. About why she left.”

His grandmother’s shoulders slumped, and for a moment, she looked older, more tired, than he had ever seen her. She had always been a strong, resilient woman, the one who had kept their lives together after his mother disappeared. But now, as she stood before him, Ethan could see the cracks in her armor, the weariness that had been hidden behind her calm demeanor.

“I know you want answers, Ethan,” she said softly, finally meeting his gaze. “But some things… they’re not as simple as you think. And sometimes, knowing the truth can hurt more than not knowing at all.”

Ethan’s frustration boiled over, and he clenched his fists, trying to keep his voice from rising. “I don’t care if it hurts,” he said, his tone fierce. “I need to know who my mother was. Who she is. You can’t just keep hiding things from me.”

The words seemed to hang in the air, heavy and unyielding. For a long moment, his grandmother didn’t respond, and Ethan wondered if he had pushed too far, if he had said something he couldn’t take back. But he couldn’t help it. He felt like he was drowning in uncertainty, and every time he thought he was close to finding something real, someone was there to pull him back, to tell him that he was better off in the dark.

His grandmother sighed, a long, deep sigh that seemed to come from the very depths of her being. She reached out, almost hesitantly, and placed a hand on his arm, her touch light but steady. “I’m not trying to hurt you, Ethan,” she said, her voice gentle, almost pleading. “I just… I don’t want you to go through the same pain she did. I don’t want you to get caught up in something you don’t understand.”

Ethan looked at her, his anger fading, replaced by a sudden, aching sadness. He could see the fear in her eyes, the way she was trying to protect him, even now. But he didn’t want protection. He wanted answers. “I’m already caught up in it,” he said quietly. “I’ve been caught up in it my whole life. And I’m tired of pretending that everything is okay when it’s not.”

His grandmother’s eyes glistened with unshed tears, and for a moment, Ethan thought she might finally open up, that she might tell him what he had been desperate to hear. But then she pulled back, her expression hardening, as if she had made a decision. “I’m sorry, Ethan,” she said, turning away. “I can’t… I can’t talk about this anymore.”

Ethan felt a wave of disappointment wash over him, but it was mixed with something else—a sense of resolve. He knew, now more than ever, that there was something his grandmother wasn’t telling him, something she was too afraid to confront. And he was going to find out what it was, no matter how long it took, no matter how much it hurt.

As he watched her retreat into the kitchen, her shoulders hunched, Ethan realized that the distance between them, once filled with warmth and trust, had become a chasm. He had always believed that she would be the one to help him find his way, but now he felt more lost than ever. And he knew that if he wanted to uncover the truth, he would have to do it on his own.

The room was silent again, the shadows growing longer as the afternoon light began to fade. Ethan picked up the photograph from where he had left it on the coffee table, his eyes tracing the outline of his mother’s face, the unfamiliar landscape behind her. He didn’t know what it meant, or where it would lead him, but he was determined to find out.

Even if it meant facing the past that everyone else seemed so determined to forget.