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“Fuck you!” I say and slam the door on my way out.
When I reach the threshold and see Mrs. Danvers in the foyer, I don’t even smile. “Teague,” she says, when I’m standing in front of her. “Holden’s not in his senses. You can’t be angry at him.”
I know she’s right. “I’ll be back in the morning to check on him,” I say and kiss Mrs. Danvers on the cheek.
“Goodnight, Teague.”
“Goodnight, Mrs. Danvers.”
Night Vision
HOLDEN
I have to fucking piss.
Never has pissing been something that was hard for me but the world around me is spinning at the same speed as Lance Armstrong on steroids. Even when I manage to get to the bathroom I realize too late that I haven’t turned on the light and it’s a chore to do that so I stand against what I hope is the toilet bowl and just go with the flow. So, I’m bad at making puns, I’m freaking drunk, give me a break. I zip my pants back up slowly and head back to the room but I drop something on the way and it crashes to the floor.
Within seconds, there are sounds outside my room and my mother comes rushing inside and turns on the light and I finally see what I’ve done. “Baby,” Mom walks towards me, gets me away from the crystal vase that’s lying on the floor in pieces and takes me towards the bed. “What happened, baby?”
“Nothing,” I say, slurring my words just a little. “I was going to the bathroom—and I couldn’t find the light switch so I just…”
“It’s okay,” Mom says, tucking me back into bed. She sits next to me and runs a hand through my hair. “Go back to sleep baby, I’ll take of this.”
“Say it, Mom.”
“What honey?”
“I told you so. Don’t you want to rub it in my face? You warned me about them, and I didn’t listen.”
She smiles. “Would that make you feel better?”
“Maybe.”
She leans down and kisses my damp forehead. “We don’t have to talk about this right now, Holden. Just go back to sleep.”
“How could I be so stupid, Mom?”
“Holden, you’re not stupid. You just—you have a tendency to love people more than they deserve sometimes.”
“When will it stop hurting?”
She gets tears in her eyes and kisses me again. “Soon, baby. It will, I promise. Just give it time. Everything heals, Holden.”
“Why don’t we ever talk about my father?”
“We talk about your Dad all the time—”
“I don’t mean Dad.”
She takes a moment to take this in. “Oh.”
“You must have felt this way too,” I say. “When he hurt you. When he abandoned us. So if it’s healed, then why won’t you talk about him?”
“Because there’s nothing to talk about,” she says. “Holden, your real father, wasn’t much of anything. He was a shallow, worthless, cruel man who had no redeeming qualities to speak of. Trust me Holden, you’re better off not knowing him.”
Love Can Make You Happy
TEAGUE
