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catch ii. Her son was the first thing she saw when she entered the administration office. He was sitting on a bench outside the Headmaster’s office with an ice pack held to his eye, and Tess - unable to help herself - ran to him. 839 words.
Her son was the first thing she saw when she entered the administration office. He was sitting on a bench outside the headmaster’s office with an ice pack held to his eye, and Tess - unable to help herself - ran to him.
She didn’t ask what happened. All she said was, “Are you alright?”
He slowly lowered the ice pack, revealing the purple bruise painted over light skin. Her fingers traced his small face and she pulled him into a hug. “Darling," she whispered, eyes squeezed shut, “I’ll fix you as soon as we get home. I swear.”
The heavy doors of the headmaster’s office creaked open. Tess glanced over her son’s head and saw the secretary standing there, waiting for her.
“Mrs. Idlinn, if you would please,” she said, and stepped aside for her to enter.
Tess looked back at her son and pushed the ice pack back to his eye. “Add more pressure,” she said and smiled at him. She kissed his forehead and straightened up, pulling at the hem of her dress jacket and walked inside the office.
Her son sat quietly on the wooden bench, avoiding the occasional glance from the headmaster's secretary as she typed away at something on her computer. He could hear his mother's voice inside the office; it was muffled, but he made out her 'hello, headmaster' and the 'it is good to see you again'.
The headmaster said something, and his mother said something back in agreement.
From then onward, the volume of her voice was a crescendo. It flooded the office and the hallway outside with all her rage and the headmaster's feeble attempts at subduing it. She hadn't been inside the office ten minutes when the office doors opened again and she gathered her son, clutching his small hand tightly, walked him out of the school. She didn’t speak until they reached the parking lot.
Her son didn’t ask. He dutifully kept the bag of ice pressed over his eye.
“Sit in the front seat with me,” she asked him before he reached for the door to the back seat.
He looked at her through one eye and she smiled, reaching over him to open the passenger door. “You can take your ice pack off.” He did, handing it to her and slipping off his backpack as he climbed into the car. The door shut behind him, she emptied the ice on the grass beyond the pavement, and circled to the driver’s seat.
Before she could pull out of the parking spot, he asked her softly, “are you mad at me?”
Tess turned to her son, surprised at the question. Her face softened, eyes sympathetic as she reached forward and combed her fingers through his hair. “Of course not,” she said. “I know what happened.”
“But we didn’t tell anyone.”
“Summer did.”
He stared.
“Summer saw what happened and told the headmaster.”
“Do I still have to stay home?”
Tess sighed, her fingers falling from his hair to his shoulder. She nodded, and he turned away from her, the nylon of his coat sliding together as he fell back in his seat. Tess bit her lip.
“You know your father loves you,” she said when they pulled on to the highway, the smooth concrete humming underneath the car wheels. He didn’t speak. She glanced at him out of the corner of her eye and sighed. “He thinks about you all the time.”
“He makes you sad.”
The statement's simple and quiet honestly felt like a slap to the face. “Does he make you sad?” Tess asked just as quietly, even more hesitantly, and watched as he nodded.
“Sometimes,” he said, “when he misses my birthdays.”
She wanted to tell him Elliot tried, but refrained. He wouldn’t want to hear that. Even as a seven year old, he knew it would be complete bullshit.
“He makes you cry,” her son continued, and her breath caught and her fingers gripped hard on the leather of the steering wheel. She shouldn’t have thought she could hide that from him. This boy was her son. If he didn’t get his perceptiveness from his father, he got it from her, and no matter how long she waited to do so, and no matter how many closed doors she was behind, he would hear her crying.
“He does,” she admitted, “but he loves us.”
“But he makes you sad.”
“You won’t understand until your older, Elijah.”
Quietly, he whispered, “But he hurts your feelings now.”
When they pulled into their driveway, she was the first one out of the car. She opened his car door for him and hugged him without another word. She knelt against the concrete as his small arms wrapped around her neck.
“I love you,” she whispered, trying not to cry but it already in her voice. “I love you so much.”
Elijah said nothing, but he did hug her back.
notes
revisiting last year's nanowrimo because idk what else to do with myself for the time being.
i like writing elijah. he's a cute kid, even if he's stuck in a shitty situation.
Her son was the first thing she saw when she entered the administration office. He was sitting on a bench outside the headmaster’s office with an ice pack held to his eye, and Tess - unable to help herself - ran to him.
She didn’t ask what happened. All she said was, “Are you alright?”
He slowly lowered the ice pack, revealing the purple bruise painted over light skin. Her fingers traced his small face and she pulled him into a hug. “Darling," she whispered, eyes squeezed shut, “I’ll fix you as soon as we get home. I swear.”
The heavy doors of the headmaster’s office creaked open. Tess glanced over her son’s head and saw the secretary standing there, waiting for her.
“Mrs. Idlinn, if you would please,” she said, and stepped aside for her to enter.
Tess looked back at her son and pushed the ice pack back to his eye. “Add more pressure,” she said and smiled at him. She kissed his forehead and straightened up, pulling at the hem of her dress jacket and walked inside the office.
Her son sat quietly on the wooden bench, avoiding the occasional glance from the headmaster's secretary as she typed away at something on her computer. He could hear his mother's voice inside the office; it was muffled, but he made out her 'hello, headmaster' and the 'it is good to see you again'.
The headmaster said something, and his mother said something back in agreement.
From then onward, the volume of her voice was a crescendo. It flooded the office and the hallway outside with all her rage and the headmaster's feeble attempts at subduing it. She hadn't been inside the office ten minutes when the office doors opened again and she gathered her son, clutching his small hand tightly, walked him out of the school. She didn’t speak until they reached the parking lot.
Her son didn’t ask. He dutifully kept the bag of ice pressed over his eye.
“Sit in the front seat with me,” she asked him before he reached for the door to the back seat.
He looked at her through one eye and she smiled, reaching over him to open the passenger door. “You can take your ice pack off.” He did, handing it to her and slipping off his backpack as he climbed into the car. The door shut behind him, she emptied the ice on the grass beyond the pavement, and circled to the driver’s seat.
Before she could pull out of the parking spot, he asked her softly, “are you mad at me?”
Tess turned to her son, surprised at the question. Her face softened, eyes sympathetic as she reached forward and combed her fingers through his hair. “Of course not,” she said. “I know what happened.”
“But we didn’t tell anyone.”
“Summer did.”
He stared.
“Summer saw what happened and told the headmaster.”
“Do I still have to stay home?”
Tess sighed, her fingers falling from his hair to his shoulder. She nodded, and he turned away from her, the nylon of his coat sliding together as he fell back in his seat. Tess bit her lip.
“You know your father loves you,” she said when they pulled on to the highway, the smooth concrete humming underneath the car wheels. He didn’t speak. She glanced at him out of the corner of her eye and sighed. “He thinks about you all the time.”
“He makes you sad.”
The statement's simple and quiet honestly felt like a slap to the face. “Does he make you sad?” Tess asked just as quietly, even more hesitantly, and watched as he nodded.
“Sometimes,” he said, “when he misses my birthdays.”
She wanted to tell him Elliot tried, but refrained. He wouldn’t want to hear that. Even as a seven year old, he knew it would be complete bullshit.
“He makes you cry,” her son continued, and her breath caught and her fingers gripped hard on the leather of the steering wheel. She shouldn’t have thought she could hide that from him. This boy was her son. If he didn’t get his perceptiveness from his father, he got it from her, and no matter how long she waited to do so, and no matter how many closed doors she was behind, he would hear her crying.
“He does,” she admitted, “but he loves us.”
“But he makes you sad.”
“You won’t understand until your older, Elijah.”
Quietly, he whispered, “But he hurts your feelings now.”
When they pulled into their driveway, she was the first one out of the car. She opened his car door for him and hugged him without another word. She knelt against the concrete as his small arms wrapped around her neck.
“I love you,” she whispered, trying not to cry but it already in her voice. “I love you so much.”
Elijah said nothing, but he did hug her back.
notes
revisiting last year's nanowrimo because idk what else to do with myself for the time being.
i like writing elijah. he's a cute kid, even if he's stuck in a shitty situation.