Honey Eyes

Honey Eyes Chapter One

...

"Mommy, where are you going?"

The toddler's soft voice stopped the teenage mother in her tracks. Well-manicured hands hovered over the doorknob, and the taxi cab summoned earlier waited patiently just a few feet away outside.

The overfilled purse on her slender body somehow became a hundred times heavier, weighing her down, as though this very decision hadn't caused so much emotional baggage beforehand.

"Mommy?" he whispered, voice cracking, as though sensing that something was amiss.

Lillya bit down on her light lips, thinking how he was so young, yet so smart, already talking, already understanding the world around him. It had nothing to do with the parents, they both spent little to no time with him.

He wasn't even registered at a hospital, and didn't even have a proper name. Yet at barely two years, he boasted an impressive vocabulary.

Lillya idly wondered how much she will miss him, if at all.

Now his tone was getting frantic, "Mommy?!"

She heaved sighed, and pulled away her hand from the doorknob, "Honey, aren't you supposed to be in bed?''

He sniffed, and only then did she turn around. He was hugging his small frame, and the loose pajamas were visibly falling off of him, clinging only to his waist and shoulders. They weren't even his clothes, a mere T-shirt that her husband had deemed out of style.

"I..." the child avoided her eyes, "I wanted you to come tuck me in... Mommy... please?"

Lillya believed that it was because of the fact she was his mother did she even bother to tuck him back in bed that last time. He bounced all the way to the bedroom with energy only a child could manage. And only because it was their night ritual did she sing a last song for him. It was the least she could do as his biological mother.

She cleared her throat, and his beautiful honey eyes, so much like hers, lit up.

She paused, looking deep into the light swirls of brown mingling with varying shades of brown, with just a hint of green betraying his Caucasian line.

With a single glance, one would suspect that his olive skin and chocolate curls were pure Hispanic, but only she, the mother, knew the truth.

He was indeed his father's son. Looking almost identical from a distance, but her contribution may be mild but definite.

He had her soft lips, and her delicate hands. Perhaps he would grow into the breath-taking Romeo his father was, but she wouldn't find that out.

After all, she is leaving him...

Lillya shook her head, willing the thoughts away, and began humming at random.

Like always, he would listen attentively to what could probably be the only quality time they spend together.

Somehow, no matter what the case was, music would always come into their relationship. And her music would always consist of lyrics – she never learned to play an instrument.

"Honey eyes, full of surprise, " she started softly, with the trademark starting of Honey Eyes, "Young heart- bursting with love, my gift from above."

"May the day be cursed when you leave my side,"

His small brows knitted. Like always, she would begin with the standard beginning, and the lyrics would always change.

He always loved guessing the hidden meaning behind the songs.

But as for now, she would hope that he understood just what she was saying.

"But alas, it's here at last. You must move on, with your life, as I do with mine."

Lillya didn't regret it when he gasped suddenly, and those irresistible honeys began overflowing with liquid.

Certain things had to be done.

"M-mommy..."

She shook her head, and gently pushed him back down on the pillow, "You're young. You don't understand. But now's the time, to loosen my hand."

"So, to my Honey Eyes," Lillya continued, allowing herself a sad smile, "I say: dry those Honey Eyes,"

Almost immediately, his hands shot up to his face, wiping away any evidence of his sorrow. Lillya nodded, and then an idea struck her, and she leaned closer to him.

"Honey Eyes, no need for tears. My Honey Eyes, forget your fears."

He looked up at her, but couldn't keep the following tears at bay. It was at times like these, did Lilly really remember his true age, or did she? Such matters weren't important to her.

"Mommy... why are you leaving me?"

She didn't answer right away, instead Lillya sung a reply that no one could ever be satisfied with, "Don't stress, on me. Don't think, about me. I want you to forget, don't remember anything - don't fret. I want you to forget, forget me."

He didn't like that answer at all. And he was about to erupt into a bawling fit, but a harsh glare from her caused him to quickly change his mind.

A few minutes and a warm glass of milk later, he slipped off into dreamland.

She hugged him, and placed a kiss on his forehead, and left the room;
left the house;
left his life.

 ...