“Thorsen.” My mother lights up when she sees me. “Lavinia will be so pleased you’re here. She hasn’t spoken of anything else all week.”
I force a smile for her benefit and sit down beside her. “I’m more interested in spending some time with you first.”
Her eyes dim, and she drags her hand across her lap, trying to reach out for me, but it’s not working as well today. Soon, it won’t work at all, and this is a stark reminder that these moments are fleeting. The problem is I simply don’t know how to make the most of them.
“I thought you’d be happy,” she says. “Isn’t Lavinia the woman you’ve been looking for?”
When it takes me too long to answer, it only seems to add to her anxiety.
“Oh, dear. Have I gotten things confused again?”
“No, Mor.” I squeeze her fingers. “You haven’t.”
The threat my father made still lurks in the back of my mind, and truthfully, I can’t bring myself to admit any alternate reality. My mother has always thought so highly of me, even when everyone else turned their backs. She never abandoned me or told me I needed to snap out of it or tried to correct my behaviors with harsh words and a cold heart. She has only ever been warm and considerate, and I can’t bear the thought of her discovering how much of a monster I truly am. If she had so much as an inkling of what I’ve already done to Ella, she wouldn’t have the will to live through the week.
“Thorsen.” Her hazy eyes roam over my face. “Have I been a bad mother to you?”
“What?” I inhale sharply. “Why would you even ask me that?”
“I just… I don’t know.” She stares off into the distance, recalling something I’m probably better off not knowing. “All these years, things have been so tense between you and your father. And you’ve always been so… angry. I can’t help wondering what I might have done differently.”
My eyes fall shut on a sigh, and pain lances through my blackened heart. I have to remind myself that it’s better she doesn’t know. I’ve always wanted to protect her from the ugly truths hiding in this family, and now more so than ever. But it doesn’t change the regret I carry deep in my soul that she wasn’t the first person I went to in my time of need.
“F-f-father, may I speak with you?”
He looks up at me from his desk, his face stern. Even at ten years old, I understand that he’s a man with many burdens. Too many to count. I don’t want to be another. But I’m scared, and I’m tired, and the pain is too much to keep inside anymore.
“What is it, Thor?” he asks. “I’m busy.”
My lips freeze, and my body ices over as I wonder if I should just leave. I don’t want to make him mad. All I ever seem to do is bother him. But the pain, I feel it every time I move. Every step I take. Every breath I inhale. I’ve never known such pain, and even now, my eyes are blurry with unshed tears. Father always tells me that men don’t cry. I know I can’t let those tears fall because it will make me weak. But I also know if I leave here right now, I’ll be a different sort of coward.
“I-i-it’s about the speech therapist,” I blurt. “Ms. Nilsen.”
“What about her?” He drops his pen, focusing his attention on me. And for a minute, I think it will be okay. I think he will help me.
“I d-d-don’t want to do p-p-private lessons with her anymore,” I tell him, harnessing my bravery like every hero I’ve ever read about has taught me to do.
“And why is that?” His eyebrows pinch together, and the vein in his forehead throbs. Is he angry with me or Ms. Nilsen?
“She d-d-did something to me,” I whisper, the shame eating me from the inside out. “S-s-she does stuff to me. Bad stuff. She t-t-touches me, and it hurts—”
My father’s desk rattles as he stands, startling me. I stumble back into the door behind me, and fear steals the breath from my lungs when he rounds the desk, looming over the room like a dark cloud.
“You dare to come in here and lie to my face?” he roars. “Is it not bad enough that I have a fucking retard for a son, and now you want to make up stories because you’re too lazy to do what’s required of you. You’d be so lucky to have a woman like Ms. Nilsen even look twice at you, you pathetic little fuck.”
My mouth dries up, and my body trembles so badly, I can’t move or speak or think. I hate myself for this. I should never have come to him. I should have hidden the pain, stuffed it down, and forgot about it. This is what always happens. I freeze when I need to move. The same thing happens with Ms. Nilsen, and I just want it to end. I want everything to end. But it’s far from over when my father grabs me by the collar, shaking me.
“I asked you a question.” Spittle flies from his lips and hits my face, and all I can focus on is that throbbing vein in his forehead that looks like it’s going to explode.
He yanks me up off the floor and drops me face down onto his desk, tugging me back, so my legs hang over the edge. I know what’s coming, but I’m paralyzed, and when his palm collides with my ass, a guttural scream erupts from my belly until I no longer sound human.
Through tears, I beg him to stop as shards of pain splinter inside of me, the vibrations amplifying the wreckage Ms. Nilsen left behind this morning. When I close my eyes and try to escape, all I can see is her with the broomstick. It isn’t my father anymore. They are one. And I realize now I can’t trust anyone. The pain is all I’ll ever know.
“Thor?” My mother’s voice pulls me from the memory, and a shiver moves over me as I try to blacken it out, stuff it down, and forget it ever happened. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine.” My voice cracks, and I clear my throat, resolving to assure her that I really am. “I’m sorry. It’s been a long week.”
I hate that I’ve only added to her worries, and I need to fix this.
“You aren’t a bad mother,” I answer her question from before. “You have been the best Mor I could have asked for. I’m only sorry I wasn’t a better son.”
A tear slips from the corner of her eye, and she shakes her head as I dab it away for her. “You and your brother are the best things I’ve ever done in this life. I couldn’t and wouldn’t ever want to change a single moment. As long as I know you’ll be okay, that’s all I want, my love. I want you to be happy. And I think Lavinia will make you happy if you just give her a chance.”
Happiness is an illusion, but I understand this is what my mother needs right now. She needs to believe in the fairy tale. The one she never had.
“You don’t need to worry about me anymore,” I promise her. “Everything is going to be okay. For now, let’s just enjoy the time we have together.”
18
Thorsen
“This is incredible.” Lavinia locks me into her sights as she brings a fork full of fish to her lips.
She’s been perfectly poised all night, the ideal date. Soft-spoken, well mannered, graceful. I can only wonder what’s really lurking beneath the surface. If I had met her under different circumstances, I might have thought she was attractive. She is, in fact, beautiful, and it’s obviously her most beloved trait because she checks her appearance in a pocket mirror every chance she gets. But her beauty doesn’t appeal to me the way she hopes. And the fact she’s a liar only cements my resolve that I’d never respect her as a wife.