When Mother finally walked into his room just past midnight, the 14-year-old Vic knew that it wasn’t for a nighttime story. He was too old for that.
“I would let her next time,” Vic flared, clenching every word to prevent the trembles from escaping, “I would; I’m not joking.”
“No, you wouldn’t,” there was so much weight in her simple rejection that he felt as if she just dumped a barrel of water on him. She sat gently on the bed. The grimness in her voice dampened the sheets.
“Yes, I would. Next time, I might not even be here. I could be at school, at practice. I could be literally anywhere, and even if I were here, I would run—” Mother raised her hand before he could finish. She had to stop him as he started slurring, streams running down his cheeks. She rested her hand on his, but he tugged away. He didn’t want any comfort. He wanted a promise that all this would end, the bawling, the wailing, the foul language, the empty yet grueling threats jettisoned around just 5 inches across an excruciatingly thin wall. Except for that night, the empty threat became real when the window swung open and the biting gust of winter came whooshing in. The striking city view caught so gorgeously in a rectangular frame like a painting on the wall suddenly turned into the backdrop of the most horrid scene in his life. Was it really so bad he wanted the play to move on?
“No, you wouldn’t run away.” Mother somberly looked into his eyes, “You would spend the rest of your life thinking about what would’ve happened if you were there. That’s what family is, the bond you couldn’t stop wondering about. Life chose us to be together.”
“YOU chose us,” Vic shuddered at what he was about to say and held his tongue.
Silence. Then Mother spoke the next few words as softly as possible. “LIFE chose us. You choose the rest, and you will regret a wrong choice forever.”
“It is not for you to carry. But for Serena, would you close the windows and lock the doors before you go to sleep, please?”
It was nowhere close to a nighttime story he would’ve preferred. He knew he was too old for that, yet he still felt too young for everything else.