I hope you enjoyyyy!!!
(Sorry if there're a bunch of misspellings, typos, and/or missing words! Updated as soon as I finished it lol)
••••••••
"Mom," I mumbled quietly, making sure not to annoy her by being loud. She was sitting in her bedroom, just staring out of the window. It'd been two days already since Piper died; I couldn't understand why Mom was still acting so gloomy. She knew that Piper couldn't come back soShe didn't talk to Piper as much as I did. I mean, sure they played together but never as much as Piper and I did. "Can we play—"
"No. No, I don't want to play any games right now, Cooper," she muttered, moving to lay down. "Mom's gonna stay here for a bit..."
"Why? Because you're still sad?"
She didn't say anything; we both knew she didn't have to.
"Mom, you shouldn't stay in your bedroom. Let's go out. You need a distraction."
"You go ahead. I'll be up later," she said quietly.
I stared at the back of her head, angry that she wouldn't get up. "I'm still alive, you know," I mumbled. "Do I not matter anymore?"
"Cooper," she mewled, "did you do it?"
The question stunned me for a short while—so much so that I'd felt the hairs on my neck and arms stand.
"What," I spoke at an almost inaudible whisper.
"Why? You were best friends," my mother cried. "What did she do to make you...sniff!"
Without a word, I left her room. I didn't want to talk about that. Not with her. She wasn't supposed to know I did anything...but in a way, I was glad she did. I hoped that now she'd think about why and come to understand that I did it because I love her and need her. Yeah, she'd realize that I needed more of her attention and love. Hugs and kisses and more time together!
Now it was just a matter of time. She'd eventually get over the death of Piper and cherish me while I'm still alive. She'll appreciate me more now. She'll love me more now.
Seven Months Later...
"Mom," I hissed upon walking into her room. "Get up."
"Cooper—"
"Get up! I want you to get out of bed! I've given you seven months to mourn Piper! That's more than enough time! Now I want you to get up! She's dead and never coming back! You think she knows or cares how sad and lazy you are or have been since she died?! She doesn't! She's dead! Come on!" I yelled, throwing the covers off of my mother's legs onto the floor.
"I can't."
"You have to! Get up!"
"Cooper, I can't. Don't you remember the man that comes over every few weeks?"
"What about him?"
"You know he's a doctor, don't you?"
"What's your point?
"Haven't you been listening to what he says? Or do I also matter that little to you?"
I didn't say anything. Neither of us did. We both allowed the already thick atmosphere to become stiffer for a few moments before my mom decided to speak again.
"I'm bedridden, Cooper," she scoffed. My heart ached and I suddenly felt the ground of my world crackling apart.
"What? No, you're not. Don't say that."
"I can't move without feeling pain," she said. "I won't tell you you're right for wanting me to get up sooner and more often, but I should have. My body's shut down on me. I can't move my legs."
Tears filled my eyes and I could feel my body starting to tremble.
This wasn't supposed to happen. She wasn't supposed to become unhealthy. She was supposed to be able to spend more time with me! Why did she suddenly become bedridden?!
"NO!" I cried. "YOU HAVE TO GET UP! YOU'RE MY MOM, TOO! YOU CAN'T JUST BE HAPPY WITH PIPER AND GIVE UP NOW THAT SHE'S DEAD! I WAS YOUR BABY FIRST! WHY DON'T YOU CARE ABOUT ME ANYMORE?! WHY DID YOU STOP?!"
My mom stared at me, looking guilty and apologetic, but I couldn't stop myself from breaking down even more. Even though she was silent, her eyes begged me for forgiveness.
"I don't know," she suddenly said. "I don't know why, but I'm sorry I did.... You just look so much like him, I couldn't help it. I can't."
Those words were the last I wanted to hear. I stormed out of my mom's room and slammed the door of mine closed. For a couple of hours I cried, wondering why my mother hated my father so much that she hated me just because I happened to look like him.
I fell into a deep pit of fearful thinking; knowing that my looks were the reason why mother didn't care for me, I pondered about how I could fix them.
One Month Later...
It'd been twenty-nine days since I had last visited my mother's room. I needed some time to collect myself and think if I really wanted a relationship with her. This woman had neglected me for absolutely no reason other than the fact that I look like her ex-husband. She was a cold, ignorant, resentful human being. Nevertheless, she was still my mother.
"Cooper? Wh...why are you wearing sunglasses in the house? And your hoodie's up? Were you outside?"
"No," I muttered.
"Uh..."
"You hate seeing my face, right? I look too much like him, don't I?"
My mom frowned a sad, sorrowful pout as I stepped to the foot of her bed. "Sweetie—"
"I don't mind," I muttered. "I'll cover my face everyday with no problem if it means you'll stop hating me... Really, I just want a mom that'll love me back."
So I did. I covered my face with glasses, hoodies, hats, face masks, and scarves whenever I visited my mom for the next two years. Of course, I grew up hating the fact that she only felt comfortable giving me any kind of affection when I hid my face, but I loved how much attention she gave me now. She was finally playing games with me and even asked her doctor for some medicine that would completely paralyze her for a few hours so that I could move her around the house without putting her in any pain.
I eventually got my mom a basic wheelchair with some money I'd earned through a lot of stupid bets with school friends. It was a little pricey, but my mom's reaction to the chair was priceless. I wished I'd been smart enough to record the moment; I would've watched it over and over and over again.
"Coo-coo Bird," my mom sniffled. "How'd you get that? They're so expensive."
"Do you like it? I just, I know it hurts when I move you around, so I got this... Plus, I want to go outside with you. I want to have picnics, and watch stars, and—"
My mother wailed and sniffled and sobbed for a while. I thought she hated it, hated the idea of being seen with me, or hated the fact she needed one so soon...but then she threw her arms out for me and gave me the tightest hug I'd ever gotten. In fact, she gave me the first hug anyone had given me in months.
I didn't know how to react, so I just stood still. She continued to cry into my shoulder and thank me, and before I knew it, we were taking a stroll around the neighborhood. Every other day we did. I loved spending time with her; I never got bored of our time together. I felt a profound sense of satisfaction and peace in every part of the consistent and repetitive schedule we'd created.
I'd wake up, make breakfast, take her to the bathroom, and put her back in bed before I went to school, and when I came back home, I'd take her to the bathroom, then outside for our walk, cook dinner, clean the dishes, and then go to bed.
It was a cycle that I thrived in. And the feeling of being needed by my mom was like icing on the cake.
2 Years Later...
(Age 15)
"Hey mom," I greeted, walking into her room. "You wanna eat breakfast and go outside?"
"Coo-coo Bird," my mother began softly, sounding worried about something. "Why aren't you at school?"
"It's teachers only today," I lied quickly. Truth was, I was bored at school. I didn't need to be there. My grades were fine, my homework was done—I was just going for friends. But since Giorgi was being weird all last week, I decided to skip.
"Oh," my mom sighed. "I thought you were skipping, haha. Yeah, breakfast and a walk sounds really nice, sweetie."
I smiled at my gullible mother and asked her what she wanted to eat. Within no time, breakfast had been made and eaten, and we were making our way around the neighborhood. "Say, Cooper," my mom started. "Do you have a girlfriend yet?"
"No," I said honestly, thinking about Giorgi's stupid hot friend, Markus. He was really sexy and we flirted a lot but he had this girl-friend that he was way too close to and...it was complicated. "Why?"
"I don't know. I guess I'm just eager to see who your type will be."
"Hm... What's your type, then?"
"Hmm~," my mom hummed, crossing her arms. "Believe it or not, I like shorter men."
"Shorter than you, you mean? Why?"
"Well, as weird as it may sound, I think they look cuter. When you're looking down at someone, they're eyelashes look longer, they're cheeks seem fuller, and they're energy...it becomes a little submissive."
I listened silently as my mom explained the perks of dating people shorter than her, and I felt myself becoming more attracted to the dominant ideals that came with her rambling by the second.
"Men with dark hair, especially," she chuckled. "They already have a domineering vibe just because of the color of their hair, you know? But when they're shorter than me, their aura becomes so much more submissive and cute.... Haha, that's my type in a nutshell. Short brunette men."
"Mm... Why do you like guys like that? I thought women more so liked being dominated, than being the dominant one."
"Why?"
"That's what you always see in movies and stuff," I said with a shrug.
"Yeah. So much it's almost brainwashing," my mom mumbled. "Movies aren't always real. They hardly ever are, you know.... I like being the boss. I like being in charge of the relationship."
That last sentence resonated with me to a great extent.
"No, not in charge. But being the dominant one gives me more confidence in a relationship. I know I'll always be heard, listened to, and appreciated... Does that make sense, Coo-Coo?"
"Yeah."
"Good," she chuckled. "Do you have any ideas of what kind of people you might be interested in?"
"Yeah," I mumbled. "Brunettes."
"Oh, haha! That's funny," my mom tittered. "What do you like about them?"
I didn't want her to know I was so intrigued by her explanation of why she liked brunettes and darker haired men so much that my interest in them stemmed from it, so I just shrugged and said: "Dunno. Just think they're cuter than blondes, I guess."
My mom giggled and nodded. "I think so, too."
1 Year Later...
(Age 16)
"Hey Mo—" I froze at my mother's door upon seeing a dark haired man leaning over her, gripping the back of her neck, and shoving his tongue down her throat. It was clear that neither had heard me, because they didn't stop. Not for a while, at least. In the split moment that the man had pulled away from the kiss so they could catch their breath, I cleared my throat, making my presence known.
"Oh!" They both jumped. "Cooper," my mom laughed awkwardly. "Why aren't you at at school?"
"Teacher's only today," I lied. I'd been skipping again. Hell, I had been skipping every other week for the past couple of months. My mom hadn't noticed or cared, though. She was too busy sucking face with her new doctor.
"Is that right," the man questioned. "According to you, it's been 'teacher's only day' the past three days."
I didn't say anything to the man. I didn't need to. He wasn't my father nor anyone I owed any conversation or explanation to. So, I just glared at him.
"Coo-coo Bird," my mom began accusingly. "Is that true?"
"Sure."
"Cooper," she dragged out my name.
I shrugged and turned my hard gaze back onto the doctor. "I thought doctors weren't supposed to get into romantic relationships with their patients."
"I don't think what goes on between your mother and myself is any of your business," he said bitterly. "However, I appreciate your concern."
"It's not concern. It's me wanting you to leave," I replied just as resentfully.
"Cooper," my mom huffed. "Why are you being so rude?"
"That's alright," her doctor-boyfriend said. "I've gotta head back to the clinic, anyway."
"Mickael," my mom sighed, clinging to his wrist as he walked towards the door.
"No worries. I'll be back to check on you tomorrow, sweetheart," the man said with a wink. "You keep taking good care of your mom, alright."
"Don't tell me what to do," I muttered, glaring at the man as he stood in front of me.
"Cooper Pacon!" My mom hissed. "You stop being rude to Dr. Omartian right now!"
"That's alright, love," he said sincerely with a soft smile. "I wouldn't want some strange man telling me how to treat my mother either. You two have a good rest of your day."
With that, the doctor left and I was lectured for my attitude. Of course, my mom's upset ramblings just went in one ear and out of the other as my main focus was just to have fun with her, and after an hour or two of scolding me, she and I were doing just that. I made her breakfast, took her out for a lap around the neighborhood, and we watched some horror movies.
"How long are you gonna entertain that guy," I asked rather abruptly.
"What?"
"He's been coming over for three months now. How much longer until you cut things off with him?"
"Eh... Why do you think I'm going to?"
"Because he's been taking up a lot of your time and attention that I used to get."
"...That's selfish, Cooper. You can't claim people or their attention as if they're objects. If you wished you had more of my time or attention, you could simply say that."
"But you're my mom. Mine," I reminded her. "I shouldn't have to say that. You should be smart enough to know that your son comes before some silly infatuation with a stranger."
"It's not some silly infatuation, and I don't know why you're so comfortable talking to me like this."
"Because you're being neglectful. Your doctor saw through my lies better than you did—and he's a guest! A stranger! You're my mom and you don't pay half as much attention to me as he does. You used to be my best friend and now you're always brushing me off so you have more time with that guy!"
"You're a real big man to start shit-talking to your mom in private."
"I'll shit-talk the both of you in private, in the same room, and in public! I'm tired of you being so wishy-washy when it comes to being there for me! I'm tired of having to fight for your attention!" I argued.
"That's enough! You're done!"
"I really am," I scoffed, leaving the living room. Upon locking myself in my bedroom, I began plotting how I'd get rid of her doctor.
***
"It's a benign tumor, which means it's non-cancerous. You don't have to panic, sweetheart," I heard my mom's doctor say softly as I quietly stepped over towards her bedroom.
"Am I going to die soon?"
"No, you're not," he mumbled before pecking her forehead. "Don't worry so much about it, okay? Stress is a fast and silent killer. I really want you to think of this tumor as just a mole—because, when it comes down to brass tacks, that's really all it is, alright. Don't think about it."
"What kind of tumor?" I asked from the doorway.
With a heavy-hearted silence, my mother's doctor acknowledged me first, and then made some excuse to leave pretty abruptly. "It's nothing," my mom answered shortly. I frowned at her bitter attitude and just as I was about to ask what it was directed at me for, I realized I wasn't wearing any kind of face covering. And for some reason, I felt angry at her for treating me so differently—so harshly just because of the sight of my bare face.
No, maybe she's just crabby because of whatever she and her boyfriend were taking about... That's probably it. I just have to relax; I shouldn't get so angry so fast.
2 Years Later...
(Age 18)
"Mom," I began as I walked into her bedroom. "You know where I put my phone? I gotta call Giorgi before I go to school."
She looked at me and frowned. "How would I know where you put your phone? Did you forget I'm bedridden and have cancer? I can't keep track of your things all the time," she scoffed.
"I was expecting you to just call it, actually," I muttered. "If that's too big a deal though, I'm just gonna search your room real quick."
"Get out," my mom growled.
"I really have to find my phone, Mom," I said seriously.
"Get out!" She demanded louder, throwing me way off guard. "I want you out of my room!"
"Wh—... What did I do? Is my search for my phone really that bothersome to you? Or is it because I'm not wearing any kind of coverup? You're angry because you have to see my face? I'm your son! I didn't create it! I didn't even ask to be born!" I scoffed, glaring at my angry mother.
"Get—"
"No! You can't keep treating me like this! I take care of you! I have fun with you! I look forward to seeing you everyday even though I know you hate my face; everyday! Do you know hard a pill that is to swallow?! Every night I stay up hoping that the next day you'll ask me to take off whatever mask I put on and apologize for being so mean to me for something I can't control or fix, and you never do! I know you never will! I know that so well but I still hope for it—for only God knows why! I should hate you! I have every right to! You neglect me, you don't care about what I do or why I do it, you don't even acknowledge me some days unless I wear a fucking mask—"
"Watch your mouth!"
"Fuck you! I'm done trying to please you all the time," I raged before leaving her bedroom with a slam of her door.
I stomped over to my room, snatched my backpack off the floor, and ignored the distant calls of my name from my mother as I made my way downstairs. Upon grabbing everything but my phone that I still hadn't found, I left for school.
***
Dragging my feet with my head hung low, I walked back home after school. I dreaded the constant replaying memory of me and my mom's screaming match with each other, and the still-angry expression I knew I'd see on her face when I got back. My heart weighed heavier and heavier as I got closer to my house, and I frowned at the immense feeling of guilt that practically tried to pull me to the ground. It was so hefty and dense... I knew it wasn't just from making my mom upset.
My heart began racing as I chalked up that something must've happened. Still, I decided to keep the same pace as I walked home. If something was wrong, I wanted to maintain my cluelessness as long as I could. No matter how big or small, I didn't want to feel worse yet. Unfortunately, I was destined to at that moment. Because the minute I turned into my neighborhood, my guilt became significantly difficult to handle. I ran home; something really terrible had to have happened to my mom.
I cried as I imagined what the problem could be. She could've fallen out of her bed and hurt herself, or maybe she successfully crawled somewhere but couldn't get back to her room, or perhaps she's been feeling alone all day and had no way to contact me because I left my phone. Tears and snot ran down my face as I rushed into my house, and I darted up the stairs to her bedroom.
"Mom," I sniffled upon seeing her lying sideways in her bed. "I'm sorry I cursed at you. I'm sorry I didn't find my phone before I left. I was just... My feelings were hurt, that's all. I didn't mean anything I said," I mumbled as I crawled under the covers with her and snuggled my face into the back of her head. I sighed upon smelling the sweet, floral scent of her shampoo, and began to calm down. "Do you want anything to eat, Mom?"
When she didn't say anything, I chalked up that she was either sleeping or still angry with me. Either way, I was happy to cuddle with her. I felt horrible and just wanted to make sure she knew I still loved her and was sorry. Suddenly, I realized that my mom usually snored when she slept, and although it was typically quiet, she was silent.
"Mom," I mumbled, peeking over her shoulder to see her face. Her eyes were closed, her mouth was slightly parted, and her eyebrows were furrowed. "Mom?"
I rolled her onto her back and pushed my ear against her noiseless, still chest. Her heart was just as motionless and silent. "Mom! Get up!" I cried as I began giving her CPR. I didn't exactly know what I was doing, but I didn't stop. I couldn't. My mom was dying.
"MOM, GET UP! PLEASE! PLEASE WAKE UP!" I sobbed, panicking. "MOMMY, PLEASE! I'M SORRY! DON'T LEAVE ME! PLEASE DON'T LEAVE ME, MOM! I NEED YOU! I LOVE YOU!"
I bawled and whimpered for my mom to wake up so much and so loudly, I hadn't even noticed when some people barged into my house until they rushed into my mom's room. Paramedics, I chalked up.
I was carefully and gently pulled away from my mother, and watched as the paramedics carried my mom away. They put her on a gurney and laid a sheet over her entire body. "Why did you do that," I asked the paramedics that covered my mom. "Take that off, she can't breath under that. She's got lung cancer, man—"
"Son, she's cold," the paramedic said before wheeling her away. I stood still and blinked, wondering how my mom was so cold that the medics thought she needed to be covered all the way up. She stayed under blankets, kept a pair of socks on all the time, her window usually...
I glanced up and frowned. "You think she has a cold? The window, it stays cracked open all day and night... I always want to close it because it gets really cold sometimes in her room but she never lets me. She demands that it stays open, but... If she's just got a cold, she's probably not snoring because of her stuffy nose, and I probably just didn't hear her heart correctly because I was panicking... I think she'll be okay. It's probably just her lung cancer that's making this cold seem worse than it should be. My mom's strong. She'll be ok—"
"Son? Are you alright?"
I turned around to see the owner of the voice that'd interrupted me, and realized that no-one else was in the room so I had been talking to myself. I shook my head with a shrug. "I'm fine."
The paramedic hesitated to nod at me before stepping over. "Are you sure? You seem a little...stunned?" He mumbled, pressing a couple of fingers against my neck.
"Actually, if you're not too busy, I'd like to just sit with someone... Talk..."
"Well, I can bring you to the hospital with your mom and you could talk to a doctor if you want?" He said while continuing to perform a small check up on me.
I shook my head and stepped closer to the paramedic, grabbing his wrist for a bit more stability as my head felt a little light. "She's gonna be okay. I know it. I just panicked, you know? I thought she...um..."
Before I could finish my sentence, I'd passed out. Suddenly, I was awake at a hospital in a room by myself. Just as I moved to sit up, a doctor came in, and asked me how I was feeling. When I didn't answer, she frowned a sympathetic pout at me and sighed. "Do you know why you're here?"
"My mom," I said. "She got really cold. You guys are helping her out."
"Cooper," the doctor began, stepping closer to me before placing her clipboard on the bed at my feet.
"Your mother is dead."
••••••••
I hope you all enjoyedddd!!!
(Did anyone catch my Easter egg? 👀 Let me know~!!)
The chapter was just over 4200 words this chapter! Tell me you liked it or I'll cry.... Lol jk......👁👁
Ahem! Ummm so, yeah, my bad for taking a little while, I'll see you in the next one!