It might not be today or tomorrow, but Silver Queens will pay for this pain. I’ll make it slow and torturous, just like the thing dying in my chest.
I only return home around five thirty in the morning because it’s close to Mum’s waking time and I don’t want to worry her.
She worried enough for a lifetime when William Nash was alive.
I shrug my wet clothes off and stand under the shower for half an hour before I step out and put on my uniform, then join Mum downstairs.
The sound of humming stops me at the entrance to the kitchen.
Mum.
She’s singing.
It took her seven years, but Mum is singing again, and not only that, but she’s also doing it with a smile on her face as she checks the oven.
When I was a child, Mum used to sing me to sleep or when she made breakfast like this. She has a soft voice made for lullabies and sweet dreams. Over the years, William killed that voice. She stopped singing and even stopped writing. She went into a slump for the last three years of his life.
She picked up writing again soon after his death, even though she battled with depression. It was her outlet, something she found refuge in. However, she never sang again and I thought William had taken her voice with him.
Now, she’s found it. She dug it from the grave and got it out.
I drop my messenger bag on the chair and hug her from behind. “How is the best mother in the world?”
“Oh, darling.” She places a hand on my cheek and tiptoes to kiss me on the forehead. She hasn’t stopped doing that since I was a kid. “Have you stayed out?”
“How do you know that?” She shouldn’t. Her pills make her go out from ten to six. “Have you not been taking your pills, Mum?”
“No, I don’t need them to sleep anymore.” She smiles. “At least, not every day. Now, young man, where did you go?”
“Aiden’s. We were playing and lost track of time.”
“You better not have ridden your bike in the rain.”
“Is that my favourite citrus cake?” I kiss her on the cheek and take the plate before settling at the counter.
She shakes her head and starts dragging things in front of me as I eat my slice of cake. There’s coffee, juice, jam, eggs, bacon, toast, butter, and what’s fit to feed an army. Mum has always cooked things that feed a large family.
“You’ve been radiant lately, Mum.”
“I have?” She touches her chestnut hair that she’s started to let loose. Her eyes sparkle, and it’s the most beautiful view. She has lived as a shell of herself for years. Even after William’s death. Once, I heard her tell Ronan’s mother that, sometimes, she thinks maybe William will come back.
That’s when her mental health takes a sharp dive and she doesn’t get out of bed for days. She doesn’t write or take jogs, she just hides in her room.
Lately, it’s as if life has been blown into her, and I know why. She’s been going out a lot lately for tea with Ronan’s mother or for dinners with the company people — people because Mum doesn’t like anything about William’s business. She’s only keeping the fort until I’m of age to take over.
However, Mum hasn’t really been going for tea or to those dinners. For one, Ronan’s mother is often out of the country with her husband. For two, Mum has been dressing more elegantly than usual.
I figure it’s a man, but I want to hear it from her. If he’s making my mum happy, I’ll give him a chance. But if he as much as gives off any ‘William Syndrome’ signs of violence, he’ll end up in that blood pool.
“Listen, honey.” She stands across from me. “Ever since your father’s death, you’ve been my world and the reason I’ve held on to life. You’re everything to me, Cole. I need you to know that.”
“I do.” She’s tried. In her own way. But Mum and I are already broken beyond repair.
Or I am, anyway.
No breakfast she prepares can fix the close relationship we could’ve had.
William took that with him.