Today's Heartache (Peterick)

Part 7: Forgettable Up to a Certain Point

Pete's POV:

There was one morning when I woke up, and he wasn't the first thing on my mind. It was how empty my stomach felt from not eating in three days. Then he came about a minute later when I was staring at the steering wheel, hoping it'd turn into something edible. That was when I didn't regret it, when I had found myself at the bottom of a steep hill because if he had been with me I wouldn't have been able to forgive myself for leaving him as hungry as I was right then. My parents weren't very far from where I was, that was if they still lived in the same home I was raised in.

I was desperate, desperate enough to drive over there and sit inside the warm truck hidden behind some bushes. The living room window's curtains were parted, and I could see furniture, modern twists on ordinary couches and end tables, a drastically different approach from the vintage things my father liked to keep around. I figured then that they weren't occupying the residence anymore, but before I could turn my vehicle back on I saw her cross the rug with a duster in hand. She was beautiful, elegant in every manner. Her dark skin was a shoreline away from the white waves upon her head that cascaded down her back clothed in a rosy muumuu.

Lines and wrinkles cracked through her skin as she smiled and glided through the space. I couldn't do it to her, take away the happiness she held in that moment, but I couldn't stop myself either. My finger had reached for the doorbell when I thought I'd changed my mind and tried to scurry off. Then she answered, opened the door to a life I'd left behind so many years ago. My mother didn't recognize me instantly.

She squinted her dark eyes and pursed her lips for a good second or two. Then her features softened, and her mouth fell open, and she dropped her grip on the doorknob.
"Peter?"
It was a whisper at most, but I could hear it like a heavy drum in my ears.
"Hi, Mama."

Her arms felt so light around me like she was trying not to squeeze too hard or else I'd pop and disappear again. My nose buried into the sleeve of her dress. She smelled like lavender and honey and all things wonderful and sweet.
"Come. Come inside," she told me, wiping her eyes quickly and moving aside.
The house was cool, fresh, welcoming- an environment I hadn't felt in a while even when I lived there.

My mother walked me to the kitchen, told me to sit down at the table while she got me some sun tea she had just brewed. It was a lot to take in- everything about this situation, but she didn't ask questions, just handed me a glass and sat in front of me with a gentle smile gracing her lips.
"I...I was in the neighborhood and thought I'd stop by," I told her.
"I'm happy you did, baby. It's been too long."

"Yeah. A little over ten years now, I think. I'm sorry. I thought I wanted to be away, but by the time I realized that I was wrong I didn't think you'd ever want me back."
She reached for my hand and held it in her own as her eyes watered and her chin wobbled.

"We're sorry too...for pressuring you into a life we knew wasn't right for you. It took us a while to accept our mistakes, but we did. I-I just wish your father was here to see you. He would've wanted to tell you he was sorry himself."
"What do you mean?"

My mother cast her gaze down on the table, and it all hit me head on, smashing into my heart at full speed. I let go of her, stood up and caused the chair to scratch the tiled floor. The sound hung in the air a moment.
"When?" I asked, "When did he go?"

"It'll be three months tomorrow. He died peacefully, no regret in his heart except for never having treated you like a son should be treated. You were his last words, baby. He said 'I wish Peter could forgive me because I've forgiven him.' And he closed his eyes and went to sleep just like that in the hospital bed."

My mother hugged me, held me in her arms like I was a child all over again, hummed into my ear about how much she had missed me. They were good people no matter what bad they'd done in their lives, good people because they'd realize all the bad and done away with it. I cried, cried harder than I'd ever cried, but it was gone and over in a few minutes, the sadness still lingering inside with the other messes.
"Can't you stay?" she pleaded.
"I can't. I really can't, but I'll come see you again soon. I promise."