The boy was thirteen before he met his father. He had never been concerned with having a second parent, and simply knew that he had one, somewhere, in the vastness of the world. He knew his mom had been a teenager and had simply assumed that his biological father was also a teenager, possibly even an older man who might have gotten in trouble if anyone had known. When the boy was a small child, he'd had fantasies. A man would show up, always tall and broad, with dark, curly hair like him, and his Mama's face would light up and he'd run to him. That obviously would never have happened, and he never mentioned his fantasies to his Mama.
He was a couple of months past thirteen when his androgynous rock star idol Rachel Berry got into a car accident while driving through Ohio with her ex-fiancée, model Amber Law. They'd announced the end of their engagement through their separate tumblr pages – he only followed Rachel's because it was more his style, full of text posts of things she'd noticed and pictures of things she'd eaten or saw, sometimes songs she'd covered, not promotional like Amber's which was always plugging this or that – and were driving to Rachel's house to gather Amber's things when a speeding eighteen wheeler nearly crushed the small hybrid. Rachel took the brunt of the impact and was airlifted to the best state hospital in closest distance. Amber only had a few broken bones and was sent to the local hospital.
He was watching the accident on the living room TV, which had the best sound and screen, when Mama walked in, laden with grocery bags. He paused it to get up, grab the heaviest from her, and put them in the kitchen. He kissed her hello, a little upset that he still had to get on his tip toes to kiss her cheek, and went to the car to grab the rest of the groceries. They normally went shopping together but he'd had summer baseball practice and she'd told him to go straight home afterwards. He was putting everything up when his Mama came into the kitchen, pale faced, eyes dewy, "Sweetie, what's that on the TV?"
He licked his lips, "Just the news, Mama. The – the band I like? Faction Phenomenon? Their lead singer got into an accident."
"And you wanted to watch it?" She asked, brow furrowed, mouth tight.
His shoulders hunched a little, and he mumbled, "I wanted to see if she was okay."
The severe look on her face lightened and she kissed the back of his head, "Mama's sorry, it's just that I don't like you looking at gory things."
The boy could admit to being glad that she didn't. He'd gone to Slade's house for a sleepover, and they'd watched a scary movie that was more gore than psychological and he'd nearly thrown up. Slade had felt bad afterwards, had rubbed his back as he fell asleep in apology.
"I know, Mama," He replied, and allowed himself to be cuddled a little before finishing with the groceries. He returned to the living room and pressed play on the remote to finish watching the scene, sitting on the couch. Mama was passing by on her way to her study and stood still to watch it.
The camera was on the helicopter lifting the lead singer away, and the reporter's voiceover, "EGOT winner and lead singer of multiplatinum band 'Faction Phenomenon' Rachel Berry was also in the accident, and sustained severe injuries. Paramedics that arrived at the scene said that no major organs were hit and that with proper physical therapy, she should make a full recovery."
He sighed in relief, even as his Mama made a sort of choked sound.
"Berry is well known for her veganism and activism, particularly when it comes to lgbtq youth and is the first out intersexual celebrity. Her interview with Diane Sawyer is scheduled to come on tonight at 9:00 pm, eastern standard time, 6:00pm pacific."
His Mama took a deep, shuddering breath, and said, "Asher, darling, do Mama a favor."
He looked up, "Yes?"
"Pack a bag."
The boy packed a bag and texted Slade that he was going on a trip with his mother. He waited a minute, and Slade texted him back that he would miss him. The boy smiled and ducked his head, although no one could see, and said that he would miss him too. He and Slade had been together for a long time, best friends since day care. Slade's parents hadn't cared that his mom was a displaced, single teenager; they were nearly his mom's mentors. They'd even introduced her to her current fiancé, Paul.
He put ten pairs of underwear and socks in an old book bag, some t-shirts, a pair of jeans, and an extra pair of sneakers. He put his school tablet in its case, then in the bag so he could keep up with school. He took his bag downstairs and found Mama was already finished, her work bag next to her full pack. She was in the kitchen, packing the food she'd just bought, making sandwiches with the food that would go bad, and putting the meat in their deep freezer.
"Where are we going?" He asked, in his normal, somewhat formal language. His Uncle Kurt told him once that his style of speaking reminded him of his father, as a small child, and he'd been proud of that fact, as well as somewhat resentful. How dare this figure intrude on his everyday life in such an innocuous manner?
Mama was putting everything into a cooler, "We're going to pick up Paul and then see your Grammy and Grump-Grump in Lima."
The boy smiled. His Grammy and Grump-Grump were his favorite relatives, and they always spoiled him when they saw him. Grump-Grump liked to take him fishing and they went to boxing matches and he was the one who had gotten him into baseball. Grammy made his favorite meals and let him braid her long hair at times, when Grump-Grump wasn't around, then would take him for walks. His great-grandparents had raised him briefly while his Mama was at school, with a full scholarship, but they were very severe and old-fashioned. When his Mama had come back for Thanksgiving and seen the welts on his backside, that'd been it for that arrangement. They'd moved into a small apartment and some of his earliest memories were of sleeping in the same bed as her, her larger body covering him, keeping him warm.
They put the cooler in the trunk, amassed a mound of blankets for him to nest with, and put their bags in the trunk. They drove to Paul's house, but he wasn't ready. Paul was a tall man, at least six feet, and broad. He worked out regularly. His brown hair was always clipped neatly, he was clean shaven, and his eyes were very dark, like his skin. No one would ever mistake the boy for Paul's son, and he was fine with that. He looked a little like his Mama, with her full mouth and cheekbones. The rest of him was from his biological father, which he found himself sometimes resentful, sometimes grateful. Looking just like his mother would have been a curse, but made things so much easier. He was darker than her as well, with an olive complexion, and curly black hair. Paul was making himself dinner, asparagus with chicken, and a baked potato, when his mom called, and they still weren't ready. The boy sat on the couch and watched the evening news.
Then, 7:00pm hit, and the news was again flooded with the images of his idol. His Mama was in the kitchen with Paul, but turned to see and her face went slack, then blank. He kept watching.
The Prius was mangled beyond repair, and he could see the first responders struggling to open up the car. There was no sound, but he could see them pull Amber out first through the broken window, and she was put into the back of an ambulance. They went back to work and the car had to be sawed in half in order for them to finally get Rachel out. His hand was suddenly in a tight grip and he saw his Mama staring at the screen as it transitioned to the inside of a studio.
Rachel was in front of them, whole and smiling, and for a moment, he was struck by the familiarity of her features. Her eyes were amber in the studio lights. The camera panned back some to show both Rachel and Diane.
"Hello," Diane said, "And welcome to 20/20. I'm Diane Sawyer and this is Rachel Berry. Some of you may have heard of her, the woman called 'the darling of rock', the 'messiah of music', and, more affectionately, 'the androgynous hot mess.'"
Rachel laughed, and rubbed the back of her head in a bashful moment. "Please, Diane, go on."
Diane chuckled as well.
"Tell us, Rachel, what was it like growing up? You're the only child of an interracial, gay couple. You're physically intersexual, you've been bullied, you're from a small town. What was that like?"
Rachel licked her bottom lip, brow furrowed. She spoke slowly, "It was initially, very lonely. We moved from another small town, in Wyoming - Eden, Wyoming, to be exact - and Lima's also small. Kids were already used to each other, so I got picked on a lot for being a relative stranger, and it was just compounded by my fathers. I was a happy child, though. I did swimming during the summer, piano, and singing lessons. I'd make a few friends, they'd leave when the bullying became too much."
She shrugged, "My house was vandalized quite a bit. I had two pets, a cat and a dog. The dog was significantly later on in life after my cat was killed." Her smile was brittle, like glass fragments, "She was burned alive."
The interview was, in reality, one tragedy after another. Her normally bright features became morose the longer she went on and Diane remained shocked, one hand over her mouth.
And, finally, it came to high school. Rachel's eyes were softened and tender, as she finally said, "I feel in love."
His mother's hand tightened to the point of pain. Her eyes were closed; black lashes flush to the wells of her eyes, like she was praying. She was heartbreakingly beautiful, in her own soft way. He had always thought his mother was the most beautiful mother of all mothers, the way he was sure other children felt, but this was different.
There was something between them, a rawness of their shared experience, that illuminated them both, separated by time and distance.
The pieces fell into place, all at once, when Rachel said, "Of course, she was beautiful. She was the most beautiful girl I've ever known, but she was so much more." Her face took on a faraway sheen, as if nostalgia would seep from her pores, "I loved her very much but I guess it was too much. If I'm being honest," And here, her smile was teary, "I still love her."
Diane cradled her chin with her hand, "What happened to her? Your beautiful girl?"
Rachel blinked her tears away like dew. "She left, one day. She left and she took my heart with her." Her lips twitched, "She is, without a doubt, the biggest change in my life, in what it could have been. If I'd have felt whole, if I'd have felt worthy after that, we will never know. She was more than human, less than it at the same time."
"She created a chain reaction," Diane broke in.
Rachel bit her lip, then shook her head, "No, not quite. She – pardon me, I'm a bit of a science geek. There's a physical reaction, which is one thing changes but at its core, all of its characteristics are the same. Then, there's the chemical reaction, which is when things change at their very atomic place. She is, without a doubt, my catalyst."
"For what?"
Rachel blinked, as if the question had never occurred to her, "For everything."
Mama sobbed, suddenly, harsh and broken.
"Asher," She screamed, "Get your things. Please, please, just – Paul, we're leaving!"
Her voice became hysteric, high and pitchy.
"I have to," She was sobbing. "I have to get to my Rachel."
"Mama," Asher found himself saying, seeing everything at once. "Mama. Is that – Is that-"
Mama threaded her fingers through his hair and kissed his forehead, "Later, okay, baby? Later."
He nodded. "Later."
Later was sitting by his second mother's side, covered in tubes and machines pumping her body. His mother gave up all pretense of concern and propriety by climbing in bed with her, cradling her head to her chest.
"I love you," His mother was whispering to the fragile being. "I love you, I love you, I love you so much."
Days later, when she murmured her mantra, fingers would twitch.
After that, long eyelashes would part to show eyes he'd always thought too pretty to belong on a human being.
His mother was watching, as he was, and he was the first thing they saw. They blinked twice, and she made a rattling noise. Later, he would realize she was crying and it hurt too much for her to truly cry.
"There they are," Said his Mama, softly, touching her face. "There are my brave eyes."