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“But you don’t know for sure.”
It wasn’t really a question, but Andre answered me anyway. “No, I don’t know for sure. I don’t like that working tricks drains him so badly, but it doesn’t appear to be doing lasting harm.”
“Guys, I am still in the room.” Finn shot both of us an irritated look. “Can you not talk around me, like I’m not even here?”
“I’m sorry, honey. I’m just worried.” I took in a deep breath and braced myself. I already knew before I said a word that it was going to go over about as well as a tennis ball made of uranium. “Maybe we should pause your lessons for a bit, and give you a chance to rest and get your energy back?”
“Mom,” he started with a shake of his head.
“We could look more into what’s making you so tired. It’s not healthy for you to exhaust yourself until you pass out, Finn.”
Finn shot to his feet, pausing only long enough to set Ouire safely on the couch instead of dumping him on the floor. “I didn’t pass out!”
“Well, you got dizzy and that’s on the way to passing out.”
He shook his head. “It isn’t that big a deal, Mom. So, I got tired, so what? You think if it was basketball instead of magic that I wouldn’t come home exhausted?”
Finn took a couple angry steps away from the couch before spinning around to face me again. He still looked wan, and tired, but his eyes were very, very blue. I hadn’t seen him this upset in a while.
“That’s different, Finn.” But was it so different? I wasn’t even sure any longer.
He braced his hands on his hips and scowled. “You’re just looking for an excuse to try and make me stop. You never wanted me to learn how to be a Magician in the first place.”
“That isn’t true.” It was a fight to keep my voice even. Getting upset or yelling wouldn’t help anything. “I’m just worried about your safety, Finn. You know that.”
“And what aboutyoursafety?”
My head rocked back like I’d been slapped. “What?”
Finn flung his arms out to the side. “What about your safety, Mom? How many times do I have to see you get hurt and end up in the hospital? I can learn these tricks and they can help keep us both safe. We wouldn’t have to worry about getting kidnapped by faeries, or attacked by vampires, or anything like that.”
My mouth was dry. My heart felt thick in my throat, and it hurt to swallow around it. “We’ve talked about this, Finn. I’m your mom. It’s my job to keep you safe, not the other way around. You don’t need to worry about me.”
His face screwed up, looking furious and frustrated. “But I do. Because it’s you and me. Who’s going to keep you safe if I don’t?”
And then, almost reflexively, like he couldn’t quite help it, Finn glanced at Andre. Andre, who had stepped away from the wall, his arms outstretched like he was worried he was going to have to physically separate us. Andre, whose living room we were fighting in.
Blood rushed into my face, and I cleared my throat.
“We can talk about this at home,” I told Finn. Then I turned to Andre. “Thank you again. I’m sorry for all of this.”
He shook his head, and smiled, but it was tentative. “Not at all.”
I got the silently fuming Finn out to the Jeep, and waved once more to Andre. Finn flung himself into the passenger seat, apparently not tired anymore. I’d never seen anyone buckle a seatbelt so angrily.
He was quiet the whole ride back, and I didn’t want to risk kicking off the fight again while we were still in the car, so I was quiet, too. But the second I had the door unlocked, Finn was storming through the house, and thundering up the stairs without saying a word to me. I winced as his door slammed shut. Not knowing quite what else to do, I sank down onto the couch in the living room and set my head into my hands.
No matter what I did, it felt like it was wrong. If I tried to keep Finn safe, he’d pull away from me, and keep practicing in secret and maybe hurt himself. If I let him carry on, he might still get hurt, but at least Andre would be supervising him.
I hated that Finn was worried about me, though. He was still a child, as far as I was concerned. He didn’t need to worry about his mom. He needed to go to school and do homework, and make friends and think about girls and dances and parties. Not worry that his mother was going to get beat up in a faerie civil war, or cursed by witches, or savaged by a vampire.
That last memory made me shiver, and I rubbed the skin of my shoulder. I still had scars from where Roscoe had sunk his teeth into me, and for months after the attack, I’d found myself tired by small exertions, and unable to catch my breath.
I didn’t want that life for my son. I wanted him to be safe and happy.
Maybe he needed to learn how to be a Magician in order to be safe and happy, though.
But why did it feel like no matter what I did, everything seemed to be going wrong?
