Theodore will always remember the first time he saw his mother cry. It was three in the morning and he had gone down stairs for a glass of water. The kitchen light was on, so he slowly crept towards it. He knew if his father saw him up this late, he would have a riot.
When he poked his head through the door, he was temporarily blinded by the awfully yellow light. Theodore had to blink his sleepy eyes to clear his vision, and once he did, he found his mother.
Helen was curled up on the floor, her arms a protective barrier as she wrapped them around herself. Theodore could hear a mixture of sobs, quiet wails and the undeniable tearing of an already-beaten-up heart. He had never seen his mother look so destroyed.
It was the scariest thing he had ever seen—his mother had always been his superhero and seeing her upset and defeated shattered Theodore's six-year-old heart.
"Mum?"
She looked up with puffy red eyes, startled. Long strings of hair were stuck to her damp cheeks so she hastily brushed them away with trembling fingers.
"Theodore?" she said, catching sight of him. "Did I wake you up? Oh God, baby, I'm so sorry."
As Theodore neared his mother, he noticed the empty glass bottle resting beside her on the floor. Her breath didn't smell like whiskey though. Back when he was younger, he believed that alcohol was what made his father do horrible things. It wasn't until later that he understood that his dad didn't have to be drunk for him to be an asshole.
On television, whenever someone was upset on the cartoons he always watched, a friend or family member would always pat them comfortingly. So Theodore decided to test out this common practice. He gently tapped his little hands against the top of his mother's head.
"It's okay," he said soothingly.
The gesture made his mother cry even harder though. She was overwhelmed with how compassionate and kind her baby boy was. Theodore was confused. He didn't understand—he thought he had done something wrong.
"I'm sorry..."
But Helen just took him into her arms and cradled his little body against hers. He held on tightly, trying to squeeze some happiness back into her.
"I love you, Theodore."
"I love you too, Mum."
That night, Theodore learned that sometimes superheroes fall.
But all it takes is a little love to teach them how to take flight again.
Every single year after that, there was at least one time where Helen would cry. And every single year, Theodore would unconditionally love and comfort her.
On Saturday afternoon, he found her in the kitchen furiously brushing away hot tears as she tried to prepare dinner. He had just come home from work. He was hungry and tired and in dire need of a shower, but all was forgotten when he saw his mother upset.
He gently steered her away from the stove and sat her in front of the television. He put one of her favourite light-hearted movies and wrapped a blanket around her shoulders. Then he finished cooking for them. They ate spaghetti on the couch and shared an entire tub of salted caramel ice-cream for dessert.
They spent the remainder of the night watching comedies and drinking tea. And even though no words were exchanged, their actions spoke volumes.
I love you, Theodore.
I love you too, Mum.
* * *
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