This Unconventional Kind of Love

Chapter 1: Here's the Situation

Copyright © 2020, Nikki B. Lourie if you are reading this work on any other domain than Wattpad, it has been plagiarized. 

"Get out. Get out! GET OUT!" Glass smashed against the wall as shards rain down on the hardwood floor. Feet scrambled, doors opened and slammed shut, and he smiled.

"Are you proud of yourself, Leslie?!"

"Mother, please, don't start," Leslie muttered, his cane tapping against the floor as he shuffled his bare feet towards the door.

Firm hands gripped his arms, hindering his exit. He glowered, his sharp incisors peeking from between his lips. "Oh shut it, you damn grump. You're about to walk all over that glass you just shattered. I should let you do it too. It would serve you right!"

"This wouldn't have happened if you'd just leave me alone, Mother. I'm not disabled. I can take care of myself," he griped, his nose in the air while he listened intently. "What are you doing? Fixing tea?"

"Of course, did you think I would clean up the glass? And let you escape?" his mother questioned on a chuckle. She prepared another cup of tea, humming as she teetered and tottered her way towards his coffee table. Gently setting down the porcelain cups, she went back to retrieve her brooding son and sitting him down across from her.

"Mother, can we please not do this today? I'm tired and my head hurts."

"The sooner you let me get this out is the faster it will be over with. Until then, you're not going anywhere." She pushed the teacup closer to him, knowing that he'd scold her if she tried to place it any closer. His large hands felt across the smooth glass until his fingers tapped his cup. He lifted the teacup to his lips, first inhaling the aroma of hibiscus tea before tasting it.

The clean flavor caressed his tongue and he closed his eyes as a soft smile spread across his lips. His mother smiled along with him. Moments like these, she was reminded of her sweet little boy. Before degenerative eye disease took his precious sight, before the pressures of fame made him angry, before he decided to cut himself off from the world. He was too brilliant to do this to himself. His grandfather would be disappointed.

"Mother. Please stop staring at me."

"So I can't admire my baby boy anymore?" she inquired, her voice moved with emotion.

"Mom..."

She couldn't fight her sobs any longer. She sat huddled before her steaming teacup, tears decorating the glass. "I just don't know where I went wrong..."

"Mom, you didn't do anything wrong," he sighed, his tea back on the tiny saucer she used to carry it.

"Then why won't you allow me to help you?" she blubbered. "After your grandfather's death—"

"Please don't talk about Pop-Pop."

Her chair clattered to the wooden floor behind her as she paced about, her arms folded under her breasts. "When can I talk about my father, Leslie? When can I talk about your father's passing? When can we talk about your blindness? When can I be your mother again?"

Leslie shifted uncomfortably in his seat, his throat constricting painfully with emotions he didn't want to feel. "You never want to talk anymore and I'm not getting any younger."

"I'm sorry," he whispered.

"Please, sit down, Mother. Your heart can't take too much more excitement." She listened, sitting down slowly and regarding her son. It never ceased to amaze her how, even without his sight, his gray eyes could always see into the heart of her. He had been a perceptive child before the degenerative disease took his eyes. Even now, without his sight, that gift had only magnified.