Fallout

Hesitance

***A/N before you get started into this chapter***

Hey everyone! I wanted to add a little disclaimer before you started in. Since late 2020 and the beginning of the new year, depression has hit me incredibly hard. Between a terrible work environment and taking care of everyone but myself, I've really fallen into a huge funk. And when I'm depressed, I find that my writing doesn't come as easily. (Side note: not sure how much sense it makes that I need to not be depressed to successfully write heavy angst.) 

I don't believe that this is any way up to my standard of writing (especially the second half of the chapter), and it will possibly be heavily edited at a later time. I'm posting it because I enjoy really enjoy posting chapters and seeing the reviews/votes/comments. Giving you guys content is one of the things that gives me joy right now, so I hope you enjoy!

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The corrosive bitterness that Riley thought was long swallowed when he forgave his Mother stuck in his throat like a bad aftertaste when he came down to the kitchen for breakfast the next morning.

Seeing his Mom with his brothers and sister, giving them breakfast, talking to them, and just... just being a Mom triggered a visceral, acute reaction in him, though he tried to not to show it. Being angry and filled to the brim with resentment wasn't a feeling Riley enjoyed, but it was incredibly hard to push down. Like dry swallowing a large pill.

The way she put a bowl down in front of Matt, and kissed the top of Audrey's head (which she ducked away from because her hair was already done), and refilled Andy's juice at his pleas of "Empty! More please!" all just looked so normal and easy.

And everything that Riley coveted during his dark and lonely childhood.

Sure, he could have those things now. His mom would kiss his head and call him her sweetheart if he walked into the kitchen. Riley could have what he wanted. But, he hesitated, because it felt too hard-fought. Riley could only have those things now, after the agonizing, convoluted journey between them.

However unfair, Riley was bitter that he felt he had to convince his Mom to do these things when they should have been his all along. It wasn't that he didn't understand why things happened the way they did; he did remember his Mom's storytelling vividly, but Riley was jealous that his brothers and sister didn't know what it felt like to go without their Mother's love and care.

"Come get some breakfast Ri," Sharon finally noticed his lurking presence, staring in on their domestic perfection like an outsider trying to understand a foreign culture, and waved at him to come join them.

Trying to swallow that enormous pill of his own bitter resentment, Riley sat next to Audrey at the breakfast bar. True to his prediction, his Mom kissed the top of his head and whispered an absent "good morning sweetheart," before placing some breakfast in front of him.

Oatmeal. His least favorite.

Riley eyed the brown, lumpy mush with the same disdain that he'd directed at last night's strawberry dessert. He hated that he was regurgitating his bitterness, and the resentment was flashing hot. This was breakfast. Being upset about breakfast was STUPID. It wasn't like his Mom was serving him foods he couldn't eat and didn't like because of some twisted, passive-aggressive game. She had other things to worry about other than food preferences from a decade earlier.

But still, it was just another sign of how little his Mom actually knew him. A token to show that eleven years had passed and they couldn't just pick up where they left off. Riley wanted her to know him the same way she knew her other kids.

"I hate oatmeal." It slipped out before he even thought about it.

Matt and Audrey's attention was drawn to him, though Andy didn't care to notice that anything awkward happened. Sharon stopped in her tracks, appearing taken aback by his defiant tone.