The Silence Between

Chapter 21

When Brett emerged from his room mid-morning, his eyes red and puffy, his mother was already sitting at the dining table, waiting for him. Before her was a cup of soymilk, a bowl of porridge, some side dishes—things she used to make long ago.

"I made breakfast," she said, her voice wavering with uncertainty. Gone was the respected business leader who always knew what to do, and in her stead was a single mother who couldn't be more ordinary, who didn't know where she went wrong and how to make amends. Her eyes were as red and puffy as Brett's.

A lump formed in his throat. He had intended to sneak out and find Eddy, but now he just felt guilty. He sat down hesitantly before the bowl of porridge and ate a spoonful. The familiar taste drew out long-forgotten memories.

"Thanks," he said softly.

Neither of them were good at talking about their feelings, but both recognized this for what it was: a small truce.

*

They spent the rest of the day walking on eggshells. His mother did work on the couch while Brett pretended to study in his room. Sometimes, when he tiptoed out for water, she'd look at him as if she wanted to say something, but would stop just short of saying it.

Brett thought vindictively, it's too late. But the more rational part of him knew the truth. That regardless of what he'd lashed out with last night, no one in this world loved him more than his mother—not Eddy, not anyone. Deep down, he knew that she was the only one who had always been with him and who always will be.

So his anger gave way to a simmering frustration. He both wanted to apologize and to stand his ground.

*

Around five, after a day of repressed anxiety, Brett again thought about leaving, but when his mother looked up at him with her sad, uncertain eyes and asked if he wanted to go out for dinner, he said, "I kind of want curry. Like, the kind you used to make, with the Japanese cubes. If that's okay."

"Yeah," she said, with a more genuine smile this time. "Yeah, I can do that."

*

And then she surprised him by apologizing first.

Over their steaming bowls of curry, she said, "I'm sorry."

Sorry for neglecting him, sorry for thinking, somehow, that if she just worked harder, she could ensure that he would never want for anything, that she could somehow buy him the best life.

"And you're so quiet. It's strange, you know. You're not really a quiet child, but you're somehow good at bottling these things up. Sometimes I even wondered if you missed me at all. Ha. Stupid of me, really. I should have . . . Definitely not mom of the year, huh?" She gave a self-deprecating laugh.

Brett stared hard at his bowl, ignoring the burn in his eyes. "That's not true . . ." It was disconcerting, in a way, to realize that his mother, who had been infallible for as long as he could remember, could admit to being wrong, and not having all the answers in life.

"I should have realized . . . but I'm glad you spoke up. I'm not the best mother, I know, but you can tell me these things, and I can try to fix them. I'll try to be around more, if that's—if that's what . . . " Her voice grew quiet here and she looked down with a thin grimace. "But maybe it's too late. You've already grown up without me."

Maybe, thought Brett. He wasn't really sure, but it hurt him to see her eyes filed with tears.

The one outcome worse than all the rest would be if he drove her away too.

So he said, "That'd be nice, actually."

*

They didn't talk about Eddy Chen.