[right][sub][sub]a short story | — — — —
generational trauma & pro-life[/sub][/sub][/right]

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[i]The Holiday Season[/i]

[center][i]Part i.[/i][/center]

  He was in the padded room, again. By request, he spent the night. Something about his roommate making too much noise. And the smell of disinfectant was giving him a headache.

It was Christmas. She visited every year. Her present was downstairs, like joy being screened for clearance. She was sad. All of everything ran through her mind — how this became her normal.

Nevermind her feelings. He was still alive, and she still loved him, and he still loved her. At least, that’s what she believed. Even if no one else could see or understand it.

As she waited for the patients to make their way to the visitation room, she tried to erase the family festivities from earlier today.

“The turkey is delicious this year,” her husband said to everyone. His voice was light and cheery, despite the heaviness in her heart.
 
The children had talked. The grandchildren had wiggled in their seats. The house had been full of new lives, but her wine had been untouched, just like all the conversations that strung through the festivities.

Was she selfish to feel so far away?

She had wanted to seem happy. Even performative, if that might shake the feeling. But here in the hospital room, she understood: not today. 

Not when her son was somewhere behind these locked doors. 

[center][i]Part ii.[/i][/center]

He was the most beautiful thing she had ever seen. So beautiful, she lost her breath when she saw him. Her son. Her beautiful baby boy.

All the pain she had just gone through meant nothing when she saw him. In a heartbeat, she would go through it all over-and-over if it meant seeing him. At least, that’s what she told herself.

“Why is he screaming like that? Are you trying to kill him?” The baby’s dad barged into the room, again. He kept accusing her of abusing the baby boy. He was colicky. 

The man blew some smoke into the baby’s face. The baby cooed and fell asleep. “See? He’s my son. I know what he needs.” He left later in the night and didn’t come home for several days.

When he did come home, he yelled at her. The baby wasn’t his. It had blue eyes. She cheated on him. She needed to prove her worth. 

Yes, just like that. And he would never cheat on or hit her, again. He would never leave them. He would always love them. Just like that. 

Until one day, she decided to leave. “I don’t want you to be like your father…” She held the baby close and tucked all of her valuables into one purse. It wasn’t much. 

And late into the night they escaped.

[center][i]Part iii.[/i][/center]

“Did Dad say anything?” His first question.

She tried to smile. She had been practicing. “No,” she said. He was done contacting her after their son’s admission.

He always made sure she understood he was the one who was suffering. Look what he could do to their son. She would never be able to escape. And neither would their baby boy.

His job was finally done.

But, she still loved him. 

Their son let out a terrible wail. It was dark and scary just like the screams he made before it happened. The security came into the visitor’s room. They took her son and the pain away. 

Her eyes downcast into her lap.

“Merry Christmas, Tim.”

At least, she kept him alive.   


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