LUCARIAH

The One Where I Want To Leave

Home.

Or could we be real and call it a house. Or a spacious shed, more like.

My head was pounding. The room was spinning, spinning, spinning. Mother, Franco, Lith, and my father were out in the living room; speaking of "adult things". I'm not entirely sure what that entails.

   But, I know the topic of their discussion was me. Which is absurd; I'm right here. So far I've heard Evan and Franco get into a scream match- twice- shattering ceramic, and something that sounded suspiciously like a slap.

   "I don't care about that, Samantha! I want my son out of this mess!"

   "GET OUT!"  My mother yelled, finally. A silence fell over everyone, followed by the resounding sound of the door slamming shut.

   Of course he walked away.  It's what he's good at after all.

  Mother walked into my room, her steps unsteady and her face pale. She stood in the middle of it, watching me with an unnerving star.

   "I knew this would happen one day," she muttered. My face scrunched; knew what? And why does she seem so upset about it?

  She sighed, "Evan wants to take you up town with him. So you can live in his nice new manor, with his shiny new wife, and all your brothers. As if this wasn't enough for you." Mother rolled her eyes, "you like it here, don't you Luca? You have a room all to yourself, freedom to do all the things you want- any child would love that- a mom and Franco may not be your real father but I'm sure he loves you."

I seriously doubt that. Franco treats me like some kid you found on the street corner; you'll entertain them for a minute and get on with your life. Not that I can complain. I prefer that over the relationship Ciaro and I had. The one where he was all in. I was all in.

An unstoppable father-son duo...that was eventually terminated.

   Was that really all I got from living here? A house, personal space, and love...maybe? I looked at my mother- really looked at her- and thought of all the bad things that she let happen under this very roof; all the things that were beyond her control, and I couldn't help but wonder...did she love me enough to give me away?

   Did she love me enough to remove me from all the pain she's caused? To prevent further damage? It scared me to find that I didn't know the answer.

   My lips parted to speak, but my brain caught up with the action and left me speechless.

   How else did I benefit from my being here? My eyes fell on the cuffed crutch laying against the wall by my bed, then trailed to the new plain matte black plastic wrapped around my leg, and stopped on the puckered scar on the backside of my hand- it's angry red lines and curves, that have yet to fully heal after so long.

   I think...I think I wanted to leave. Perhaps it won't be for forever, but I want a chance. A chance to see the world through a new set of eyes. Eyes that didn't have to look over their shoulder every two seconds, or search for escapes every hour.

I want a moment to bask in the childlike wonder I lost so many years ago. Would I be able to get it back if I remove myself from her hands? The hands that once held me so tenderly. Maybe, maybe not- I'll never know if I didn't try.

But how could I possibly tell her?

She stared into my eyes, the earthy brown tone slipping past all my questions and uncertainty; peering into the deepest pits of my soul. And she didn't like what she found.

   "I'm sorry, Luca," she wept, folding in on herself, "I'm so sorry. Don't leave me too. I can't loose you."

   But you already did. My mind whispered tenderly, smoothing away all the pain that came from seeing her fall apart. What good did it do her to have a child she couldn't be bothered to care for?

   Yet again, would it be any better in my father's home? Or would I be pushed away faster than before.

My mother sniffled, calming herself for once, before yawning and stretching out on my bed, "Luca?"

  I hummed, looping my finger around a frayed thread on my sweater.

   "Can you make me a sandwich? You know the one you used to make with the chicken and cheese?" She licked her cracked lips and stared at me like a small child- eyes wide with hope.

I looked at my leg again, with its thicker plastic and additional metals, trying to drown out the throbbing pain that coursed through it.

My mother was supposed to pick up some pain medicine from the pharmacy, but I already knew not to count on it.

My throat bobbed as I looked back up at her, eyebrows creased in obvious disgust.

Shouldn't she- not as a mom- but as a basic human being, be the one helping me out? I just got out of the hospital and she's behaving as though it were her.

Thunder boomed in the distance, reflecting my feelings in a way I was unable to express. With noise. I inched out of bed, gritting my teeth as I did, my knuckle turning papery white as I gripped the handle of my crutch.

She watched me as I picked up my school bag, dumped all the books on the floor and shoved a handful of clothes in.

Her eyes narrowed, "really? That's the route you want to take?!"

I stared her down, gaze full of ice and steel. A look I mastered in my youth. And nodded once.

She returned my nod, "very well, my son. I'll go ahead and call your father. The father that left you behind without a second thought. Don't worry, Lucariah, when it happens again, my door won't be open. Ungrateful little s-" she took a breath before leaving the room.