Converting the Bad Boy ✔

Chapter 25

I nodded. "I know."

Mum chuckled. "My son, the know it all. But you really don't know how much I love you, do you?"

I shrugged. "I'm guessing the answer to that is no?"

Mum closed her eyes. "You will never know until you become a parent yourself."

"What if I never become a parent?" I challenged.

Mum opened her eyes, and she frowned at me. "God forbid, Damian. I want you to get married someday and have kids. I want you to have more than I could ever have in my life," she said almost wistfully. "You know, I always wanted to have four kids, but unfortunately, God didn't plan it that way for me."

"What do you mean?" I asked. If she wanted four kids, she could've just screwed my dad four times. Easy as that, right?

Mum sighed, glancing down at her hands. "We were going to have another kid before you, Damian. But I had a miscarriage. We tried another time, but the baby died when it was barely four weeks old. When I got pregnant with you, it was like a gift from God. You were born perfectly healthy, and we finally had a son," her face lit up as she described my miraculous birth, and I had to admit I was surprised. Mum never told me she had miscarriages before I was born. I never even knew she wanted more kids - I always felt cursed that I was an only child. I had to play with other kids in the neighbourhood to make up for my loneliness, and I always craved a sibling, someone to look out for me and someone to play with. I was jealous of the friends I made who had siblings, wanting to be their friend but secretly hating all of them. Maybe if I had siblings, I would've been a better person, less bitter, less cynical, less...me.

"We tried once again when you were three years old. Your father and I wanted you to have a little brother or sister, but unfortunately, that never worked out. I was too stressed, balancing my job and raising you, and I wasn't getting enough sleep, and I was smoking more than ever," Mum grimaced as she said this. "I was only thirty three, but my body was forty three. I wasn't healthy enough to have another baby. You were the first and last, and that's why I love you so much, Damian."

"Shit,' I muttered, fighting the stupid prickly feeling of tears. They just kept coming back, and Mum's stupid heart-touching story was threatening for them to return. I felt guilty for some reason, as if I didn't deserve Mum's unconditional love. She loved me not just because I was her son, she loved me because I was her only son, the only one in the whole world.

I looked up at her, taking in her thin frame drowning in a spotty blue hospital gown, the sheets draped at her waist, the ventilation system in the hospital keeping the room cool from the heat outside. It was mid-March, and yet we were still experiencing hot humid days.

"Thank you, Mum," I said finally, realizing that I should've thanked her a long time ago for putting up with me. I wasn't the best son in the world - in fact, I was pretty shit. I guess mum's illness woke me up big time, because I wasn't even going to parties anymore. Unfortunately, I couldn't say the same for drinking. Dad kept beer in the fridge, so I'd smuggle a few cans and sit in the backyard, drowning my sorrows and staring at the stars, thinking about Mum all alone in hospital and how she didn't deserve it. Maybe she should've listened to those smoking ads, but I wasn't blaming her. No, I couldn't blame my mum, even if I wanted to. I was blaming God. What kind of atheist was I, blaming God for all my problems? A pretty shit one, that's what.

"For what?" Mum cocked a pencilled eyebrow amusingly, forcing me to spill my guts.

"For being my Mum, duh," I rolled my eyes, suddenly feeling uncomfortable. I wasn't a feelings kind of guy. Admitting my feelings was like admitting I had an STD to the whole school - embarrassing. Maybe that's why I could never commit to a relationship with Sam. She was hot and all, but I couldn't deal with all the shit that came along with her hotness. Girls wanted to be treated like human beings with feelings, but sometimes it seemed like that's all they had - feelings. The never saw logic in things, they were always moaning and gushing and laughing at everything I said, desperately clinging on to me. The only girl I could afford to love right now was my Mum.