Yours Truly, Ramona

chapter eleven | drowning.

I'm intrigued by mentally healthy people.

I mean, seriously intrigued by their ability to control and understand what they feel. How are they so patient and forgiving? Please, teach me your secrets, guys.

I'm over here with my emotions as mixed up as an assorted fruit salad and Owen's got his shit completely figured out.

"I missed you so much!"

Mason squeezes my frame between his stick arms and lures me into a hug I wasn't expecting. Unlike last week, the bruises on my hips don't bother me as they've nearly healed. My 'hickeys' have disappeared, and so I don't have to keep my hair in place around my neck anymore.

It's relieving to be able to live without the non-consensual wounds on my body, though it's too bad that I still have to suffer through the self-inflicted ones.

"Aww." I stiffly pull away and meet Owen's eye for a brief moment. "I missed you more, bug."

We're stuck in the courthouse visitation room once again, with Jean supervising our every move and Owen observing our interactions as he did last week. Although I will say, this time Owen appears more invested in speaking to us. 

"Mason has something to tell you, don't you bud?"

I focus my gaze on Mason's giddy little face while he nods his head with urgent excitement. I watch his mouth turn into an 'O' shape as if he's about to tell me the cure for cancer.

"You're not gonna believe this, Ray! My teacher gave me an award yesterday!"

I raise an eyebrow while a proud grin tugs at the corners of my lips. He looks so proud of himself for earning something that's likely tantamount to a participation ribbon, though I try my best to share in his excitement.

"An award? What kind of award?"

He smiles a boisterous smile.

"A math award."

"Wow," I breathe. Where he got the math skills from will forever be a secret. He sure as hell didn't get them from me. 

"I don't know where you got your smarts from, but I'm so proud of you!"

A giggle escapes from his cheeky grin.

"Thanks."

My joyful manner is turning into more of a sad and longing gaze the longer I stare at my little blonde angel. Just looking at him is a painful reminder that I'll never be important to him again. He won't run to me when I pick him up after school and tell me about his math awards. I'll hear about them through this sad excuse of visitation.

My arms reach out in a gesture that's familiar yet foreign, and I pull into my arms. I pull him into the safest place he can be—where he can't see my pain and my broken heart.

When he's protected and back in my arms for a few moments, I'm not empty anymore. I get that feeling you get when you're surrounded by the person you love the most. Nothing matters except for their touch and the way they make everything fall into place so perfectly.

I almost forget that Owen is standing across the room and waiting to get another word in. His eyes lock with mine briefly and Mason pulls away when he hears Owen speak up.