The Boy Who Wouldn't Speak
1341 Words
The drive back home was pensive and thick with tension. I kept throwing glances in the rearview mirror at the twins who were quiet, especially Lucien.
He wouldn't even look at me, and the thought that I'd caused it hurt me so much. By the time we pulled up into the house, it was around noon, and as I unbuckled the twins from their car seats, they walked into the house without a word.
I sighed, following behind them as I walked through the threshold of our home. Lola seemed surprised to see me and the twins home at that time because I hadn't planned to come home until dinner.
“Welcome home, Ms. Wilson,” she said apprehensively, throwing a glance at the twins who were going up the stairs. I could see the question in her eyes to ask what was wrong, but she didn't dare utter a word in question.
“Should I start on lunch while you get changed?” she asked when I turned to walk up the stairs after the children, and I paused, turning to her.
“No. I'll call you when I need anything.” With that, I turned and jogged up the stairs in the direction of the twin's room. I pushed the door open to see them seated on the edge of Lucien's bed, waiting.
He had an impatient look in his eyes as he watched me. I sank down into Olivia's bed that was just opposite Lucien's, folding my hands as I leaned my elbows against my knees.
“Olivia, Lucien I need you to listen to what I'm about to tell you,” I started, my voice soft and my gaze steady. They nodded unison, and I inhaled a slow, shaky breath to calm my nerves.
“The man in that picture...” I trailed off, the word in the tip of my tongue suddenly too heavy to utter.
“The man in that picture is your father,” I uttered slowly, my eyes flitting between them to gauge their reactions of shock as their eyes both widened into saucers.
A veil of silence covered the entire room as I allowed them to process the information I'd just revealed to them.
“Why didn't you tell us about him, mommy?” Olivia asked in a small voice, and I felt tears instantly gather in the corner of my eyes. “I didn't mean to keep this from both of you." “I don't expect you to understand my reason for doing so now, but I know you will when you're older,” I murmured, hoping they'd understand and eventually let it go.
No matter what Ryan did to me in the past, I would never intentionally spoil his chances with our children in the future. If I told them the truth of what really happened, they'd hate him, and I didn't want that. I wasn't so cruel as to rob him of the chance of being their father whenever he chooses to come back, that is, if he ever did.
“Where is he now? Can we see him?” Lucien asked this time, breaking his silence since I walked into their room.
“I have no idea where he is, baby, so I'm afraid you can't see him.” His face fell instantly at that; it broke my heart.
“What's his name, mommy, and what is he like?" “Can we see more pictures of him?" “Why did he leave us, mommy?” Olivia bombarded me with questions after questions; it left me breathless.
“Your father and I had a little misunderstanding before you two were born; that's why he had to leave,” I explained slowly, and Olivia frowned. “Did he say where he was going?” she asked again, her eyes wide with hope that I may know the whereabouts of my ex-husband, but as I shook my head slowly, I crushed the last bits of hope that I'd seen glistening in her brown eyes.
“Did you ask him to leave?” Lucien asked in a quiet tone this time, his eyes glued to mine. “He left on his own,” I responded, and he looked away from me, choosing to walk towards the window sill and plop down on the cushioned seats, ignoring me and staring outside the open window.
“Do you think he'll ever come back to us?” She asked, her voice low. Something told me she already knew the answer to that question, but she still wanted to hear it, probably to accept it and move on; I would never know.
“Come here, baby,” I beckoned her over, and a smile graced my lips when she complied, walking into my open arms and resting her head against my chest as I stroked her hair gently. I gently held her shoulder, pulling her back so we could see eye to eye.
“I don't know if he'll ever come back, but what I do know is that he loves you and your brother so much,” I murmured, turning to look at Lucien, who was still staring out the window, ignoring me completely.
“Why don't we go down for lunch? I'll make your favorites,” I offered in a bid to lighten up their pensive mood after the disaster that'd just happened.
"Really?” Her eyes lit up, and I nodded. She squealed, running towards the window sill where Lucien's chin was propped up against a pillow, facing away from us.
"Lucien, did you hear that? Mommy's going to make our favorite; come on, we have to go help her.” She tried to coax him by taking his hand, but he just shrugged her hand off his and went right back to ignoring us again. I sighed, beckoning Olivia over, who was pouting over her brother's reaction. She hesitated for a moment but then walked over.
“We'll also have mint chocolate ice cream for dessert,” I said, my voice loud enough for Lucien to hear as I tried to entice him with his favorite ice cream flavor, but when he didn't even do much as turn to me at the sound of us eating his favorite ice cream, I knew it'd take a lot more than food to get him to come around.
I sighed, taking Olivia's hand and mumbling a quiet 'Come on,' and walking out of their bedroom slowly, half expecting him to change his mind and come with us.
***
Over the next two days, Lucien's condition deteriorated; he wouldn't eat or talk to me. I was worried, frustrated, and angry. Angry at myself because it was my fault for lying about everything in the first place. He had been running a fever all night that scared the s**t out of me.
I had a doctor arrive at our home first thing in the morning to check on his condition. The doctor informed me he was severely dehydrated and had to be placed on a drip.
That evening I was sitting by his bed, caressing his curls as he slept. His eyes started to flutter open, and I sat up immediately.
“Lucien, it's me, baby,” I whispered as his furrowed gaze met mine.
"Mommy?” He whispered, his voice unsure and groggy from sleep, and I nodded quickly, my eyes filling up with tears almost immediately.
"Yes, baby, it's me,” I smiled, quickly wiping the tears at the corner of my eyes. “Why are you crying, mommy?” He asked softly, his brows furrowing in confusion as he watched me.
"Oh, something got into my eyes. I'm fine, baby,” I insisted. “Is there anything you'd like to eat? Just say it and make it for you,” I offered quickly, my eyes wide as I waited for his response.
“I want to see Santa,” he said, blinking up at me innocently as I stared down at him in surprise.
- Writer
