WAKE (Wattpad edition)

5. Good mom.

When the dishes were done, she found the clippers in a drawer and pulled out a chair. "Sit down." He gave her a wary, sideways glance, and she smiled at him. "This won't hurt a bit."

He lowered himself gingerly into the chair, leaning forward with his feet braced against the floor.

She bit the side of her mouth—he really did look like he expected the roof to fall in. She left the clippers on the table and smoothed her hand over the top of his head, lightly moving one piece of hair to the side to tidy up his part. He took a slow, unsteady breath, holding still.

"You have lovely, thick hair, Cary," she said in the soothing voice she'd used to calm her alarmed toddlers. "My boy Judah had thick hair like yours. Always in a mess like yours too." She combed her fingers through the hair on the back of his head to check the length and her fingertips brushed what felt like a knot on his scalp. He twitched and put an arm out to hold onto the edge of the counter.

Mel hesitated. "Does that still hurt you? Is that something that still hurts?"

"It's fine—I'm fine." He sounded like he was short of breath. "An old scar. Just do the thing."

She didn't use the clippers. He kept his eyes squeezed shut tight while the neat snick-snick of scissors went around his ears and over the back of his neck. She stroked her hand through his still damp hair, snipping it off his face, off his neck, tidy around his ears. She trimmed up the nape of his neck but left the hair on the back of his head long and thick.

She pulled the towel off his neck and shook it out on the kitchen floor. "All done." He straightened in his chair, letting go of the counter and drawing in a breath. "You might want to shower again to wash the little bits of hair off."

He got up, brushing his hands over his shoulders. "Thanks, Mel."

"How on earth did you get your hair cut before?" She had to look up to see into his face now.

"My mom done it," he said. He pushed his hair back from his face, touching her eyes with his for a second. Her forehead wrinkled, thinking of the woman in the beautifully tailored suit and heels, hands folded next to Cary's father in the courtroom. It was hard to imagine her with a hair out of place, let alone covered in stray hairs giving this boy a haircut. "Was she good to you?" Mel asked wistfully. "Sometimes?"

Cary dug the heel of his hand into his chest. "As good as she could be. It wasn't like living here." His eyes wandered out the window where the girls were in the sprinkler, shrieking and leaping through the spray. "Felt like living in a forest fire. We were never safe. She was always...afraid." His mouth pulled down, making deep unhappy lines—one of the first real expressions she'd seen on his face today. "I think she still is."

"Are you?" Mel ventured. "It's okay if you are. It takes some...getting used to. Knowing you're safe."

Cary dropped his eyes, spreading his hand over his chest like he was checking. "I think I'm okay," he said slowly. "Sometimes that old sh—stuff—pulls me back under..." he ran a hand over the back of his head, clasping his neck for a second. "...and I forget. That I live here now."

She pulled her sweater around herself, standing beside him at the sink and watching her girls out the window. "You and your mother...had a very frightening time. I'm glad you had the strength to speak out and bring an end to it for you both. You're a very brave person, Cary."

He made a dry noise. "Can't hold still for a haircut."

She reached out without looking, touching his arm for a moment. "A small thing for someone else. Big for you."

He turned his head to look down at her face. "Can I ask you something?"

"Sure."

"Are you okay?"

She lifted her eyes to his face and saw him watching every shift in her expression, his dark eyebrows drawn together with worry. She lifted her shoulders, folding her arms a little tighter around herself. "I am okay." She tried to use her even, mom-voice. "This has been a hard year. I haven't been feeling up for much beyond...surviving."

"Are you?" he asked in his dry, soft voice. "Surviving?"

She let out her breath, closing her eyes a moment. Her August birthday had come and gone, marking another year of distance between her and her child. Maybe it was just the depression that made it hard to keep going on those days. The feeling that she should be a better mom to the children who were left. That maybe God took Judah because he knew she wasn't going to be good enough. That voice had been loud lately, making it hard to hear anything else. "I'm living."

It was quiet in the kitchen, and then Cary put his arm around her shoulders, its warm weight tipping her off-balance so her face bumped into his ribs. Mel put her arm around him too.

"You're a good mom, okay?" The words rumbled through his ribcage. "You got things to do here. Every life, right? Every life is valuable." He let her go as quickly as he had reached out, checking her face.

She lifted her chin, trying to smile. "I'm supposed to be the one who tells you that."

One side of his mouth pulled up. "Figured you knew to say that to me because one time you needed to hear it."

It unnerved her that he had seen that, and she wondered if all the scars he wore made him more aware of the hurts of others. "You're wise beyond your years—you know that?" she asked quietly.

He was still, his eyes on her face like he was trying to read the words there to understand them better. She patted his wrist, his scar smooth and dry under her thumb. "You are."

*What do you think about the contrast between Cary's relationship with Jon's mom Mel, and his own mother? Neither of them are perfect... Why is Mel so good for him? Do you have 'adopted' moms or aunties in your life?*