Tailored Hats, Cats and White Rabbits Original

25// "Fair, Far And All"

25// “Fair, Far And All”

After nostalgically washing up the dishes, Mom and I proceeded to go and watch TV. I didn’t listen or even focus to whatever show was on, but Mom loved it and that was enough for me. It was one of those who-dunnit crime shows but there are just so many these days I have a hard time tracking which characters go with what storyline. After a while I just gave up and just watched the curvy detectives as they were kept their poker-faces on while finding obvious clues in all the right places. Mom and I used to always guess who the murderer was when we watched these shows. We would guess who it was and why they did it. Whoever was right got the other to do the dishes the next day or whatever chore we weren’t particularly looking forward too. But if we both got it wrong then we had to share the chore.

Those small details that I forgot and hadn’t noticed that I had missed while I had been away and by the way that Mom sat so closely to me and got so involved with the show, she clearly missed this too. I had thought about telling her some of what had happened at the institute. But I had this cloud of overhanging “what happens in the institute stays in the institute” vibe fogging up my thoughts. After all it had happened between Dormitory 23, I wanted to respect that but I couldn’t put a damp on the feeling of wanting to tell someone about what we had done. Since I had never done anything like that before in my life, I felt a humble pride about it. However I kept my mouth shut and made sure that I kept my misadventures to myself for now.

The next day after a fitful sleep, Mom came up to my room around 10 ‘o’ clock already dressed in jeans and a plain tee. She never dressed up, my Mother, but she always managed to look young and bright, even in her stained dungarees. I was sitting up in my bed, thinking about how I was going to continue with my life. About school and what I would tell my friends where I had been for the past three months. I hadn’t told them that I was leaving in the first place, sadly I wondered if they even noticed that I had gone. However there was something else that I did want to do if I was ever going to get out of this bed.

“Michael?” Mom knocked on the door cautiously before entering, giving me plenty of warning that she was coming in. She had taken to knocking before entering ever since that dreadful day when I was doing something very awkward and very teenage boy like and her poor eyes had to witness it. I didn’t answer her just glanced up at the space in the doorframe.
“I made you pancakes” she said, smiling sweetly, “chocolate chip, your favourite” I couldn’t help the small smile that crinkled the edges of my mouth. Mom’s smile widened on her face,
“I like your smile baby. I haven’t seen it in a while” she closed the door behind her and leant against it, her hand on the knob.

“Is there anything you want to do today?” she asked, slightly glancing at my still packed duffel bag sticking out from under my bed. I looked down at my blankets that were covering me from the waist down as I sat up against the headboard. I hesitated for a moment because I knew that I was going to be subjected to loads of questions but I wanted to do this.
“Can we go to the library?” my voice held its own tone of uncertainty. I had thought about how to say it without sounding like a weirdo. Never before in my life had I asked to go to the library. Sure I read but I wasn’t one of those people who practically lived in the library and who walked around like they had a textbook shoved up their ass.

“Sure baby” Mom said with ease. I waited for her questions but they never came. I guess that she pitied me. There was that word again…pity. My mind wandered to something that Alisa had said.
My dear Hatter you must learn that there is a fine line between liking someone and pitying them.
How do you expect people to feel apathy towards their compatriots? Out of pity my Mad Hatter. Do not make pity out to be a monster otherwise it will consume you entirely till you are nothing but claws, fangs and the anguish in which it first consumed you.