A/N: Captain Riterra Smith and her fairy dust corrected this one-shot. They're awesome.
I. Howard's seven the first time he gets invited by a classmate to a sleepover. He's over excited, jumping up and down to the gate of the school. The truth is, he's never had a lot of friends – the boy who invited him is new to the school – and finally getting one feels like a Christmas morning.
"Ma! Ma!"
He runs to his mother, forgetting for the first time in weeks that he hates seeing her waiting for him at school – the teasing from his classmates is never worth having someone else carrying his bag.
"I've been invited to a sleepover by a friend, Ma! I've got a friend!"
"Really?" she asks, way too loudly for Howard's taste, and he waits until they've started walking away from the school to gush.
"Yes, Ma! Simon invited me to sleep over next week-end!"
"Isn't that cute?" she answers, and during the five minute walk back home, Howard's smiling at trees, at benches and at clouds, not caring about looking like the huge dork he's always accused of being. He's happiest than he can remember ever having been. It's really true, what they say; having a friend is better than anything.
It's finally Saturday night and it's nearly time for his dad to drop him at Simon's. Howard's just remembered to put his toothbrush in his overnight bag when he hears echoes of a dispute downstairs. As silently as he can, he walks down the stairs, sadly wondering what on earth it is about this time.
"Well I've changed my mind!" his mother shouts, and when he finally reaches the open door to the kitchen, he can see her, hands on her hips, staring defiantly at Howard's father, who looks like he could actually slap her in the face right this instant.
"He's seven years old! Boys his age go to sleepovers with their little friends!"
"Not Howard," his mother spits, and Howard feels like his heart is dropping low, low, low into his stomach.
"Why not?"
"He's too frail, he can't sleep away from me for a whole night!"
His dad groans loudly, visibly exasperated. "More like you don't want to let him go because you are a control freak?"
"Oh, look who's talking, Mister-I'm-Getting-Fired-Because-I-Tell-My-Boss-He 's-A-Dick?"
Howard's heard enough. His mother doesn't want him to leave the house, and he's not ready to be the cause to yet another of his parents countless arguments. He's never had any friends anyway, so when his dad comes to his room to tell him he can't go to Simon's, he just pretends it's okay because he doesn't really like Simon.
ooo
II. Howard's eleven years old when he sees his father for the last time. Of course, when he says "bye" before going to school that Tuesday morning, he doesn't realize it's the last time he's going to see him. When he comes back from school, he doesn't really pay attention to his father's absence – he's probably still at work, or visiting a family member. The day after, though, he asks his mother.
"Where is Dad, Ma?"
She doesn't answer right away. She simply looks at him for what looks like the longest time, as if trying to decide whether she should tell him anything, and Howard begins to panic. Maybe his dad's been kidnapped by aliens and she doesn't know how to admit it.
And then, finally, after a time, so long Howard's already thought of five ways to enter in contact with the aliens to get his dad back, she simply looks at him and says "On a vacation."
It's only three months into his father's absence that Howard realizes this vacation is way, way too long to be believable.
"Where has Dad really gone?" he asks on a gloomy Friday night, the sky hanging low on Pasadena, silently sitting on the couch with his mother, the TV set being, like every night these past three months, the only noise in the room.
His mother just stares into space and Howard loses it.
"Where is he, Ma?" he shouts, and his mother breaks down into loud, uncontrolled sobs.
"I don't know," she croaks, and Howard feels bad for shouting at her like that.
"Okay, Ma, don't panic."
He tries to remember what they always do in TV shows when someone goes missing, and he finally suggests that they should probably alert the police.
"No need for that," his mother answers in between sobs, and Howard doesn't understand why she'd want to leave her husband's disappearance unsolved until she gets up and walks to the dresser. Reaching on her tiptoes, she gets a box from the highest shelf. She opens it and then takes something out from it, a piece of paper that she then gives to Howard.
"What…"
"Read it," she says, so Howard does. He recognizes his father's handwriting as soon as his eyes grace the paper. There are only a few words, but they shatter Howard's world in a way he would never have suspected possible.
I'm gone. Forever. Do not try to contact me. I'm sorry, I think.
Howard reads those words over and over again, their gravity sinking in deeper and deeper every single time. After what feels like the millionth time but really is the twenty seventh time, Howard looks at his mother. Her back is turned to him, and it's probably for the best, because he doesn't know if he could bear seeing her lying face now.
"Why didn't you tell me the truth?"
She doesn't answer, and Howard finds himself yelling at the top of his voice. For a second there, it's hard for him to remember he's only an eleven year old child, because he feels so angry it's like he's turned into an ogre. But when even his yelling doesn't make her answer or even look at him, Howard gives up and storms off to his bedroom.
It takes him only five seconds to realize what he wants to do and to put his plan into action. Grabbing his school bag, he throws his books and copies away, stuffing pants and jumpers into it. He grabs the money Auntie Gilda gave him for his birthday – thirty dollars should be enough to buy him a plane ticket to Florida, right?
He has to get away from here, from her, that liar who thought she could hide his dad's disappearance forever, and he runs down the stairs, walking quickly to the entrance door, when a terrifying sound stops him dead in his tracks. It's coming from the living room, and Howard finds himself drawn to the sound, curious as to what it might be. And when he spots his mother sitting on the floor, loudly crying as if crushed by the weight of the world, he suddenly forgets he's angry.
Throwing his bag onto the couch, he walks to her and just sits there, offering nothing but a silent and comforting presence. Howard realizes he's been hard on her; her husband's left her, and he's the only man in the house now. It's time for him to be strong for his mother.
ooo
III. Howard is unsure as to how to proceed. The news came in the mail three days ago, and he still hasn't told his mother he's been accepted into MIT.
He figures telling your mother you're going to study on the other side of the country is hard for anyone, but it's twice the trouble when you are Howard Joel Wolowitz and literally your mother's only rock.
He's been putting off telling her for days, but he realizes he can't run away from the truth forever. Besides, if he doesn't answer to MIT soon, his dreams are going to run away from his grasp quicker than he can say "Massachusetts".
She's watching TV when he decides to tell her. Silently, he sits next to her and stares at the screen for a while, pretending to be absorbed in whatever TV program it is that she's watching, when he really is only trying to muster up some courage and has no idea what his eyes are blankly looking at.
When it's the commercial break, she gets up and asks him if he wants a muffin. Not waiting for his answer, she walks to the kitchen, and Howard realizes that it's now or never. Nervously biting his nails, he follows her to the kitchen.
"Ma, I need to talk to you."
She turns toward him, suspicion written all over her face.
"Are you finally going to confess you've been eating my scones?"
Rolling his eyes, Howard answers: "No. I've been telling you for weeks: blaming me for your gigantic appetite isn't going to change the fact that you're the one eating ninety percent of this food in this house."
"Is this a way to talk to your mother, Howard Joel Wolowitz?"
Howard wants to answer that hell yeah, it is, but he knows better. "I've got replies from the universities I've applied to, Ma."
"Ooooh, is that Caltech thingy taking you?" she asked, stuffing three muffins in the pocket of her dress.
Fidgeting, he answers: "Well, as a matter of fact, they did."
"That's great, Howard," she barks, stuffing another muffin in her mouth.
Howard looks away then, not sure whether he does it because he's disgusted by the food coming out of her mouth or because he doesn't know how to tell her about MIT, and mumbles: "I have a better offer, though, Ma."
His stomach drops when she answers that it better be in Pasadena, but L.A. is acceptable if he really must as long as he comes home every night, and he struggles for a few seconds, wondering how to tell her, when he figures he should treat it like a band aid; the quicker you take it off, the less it hurts.
"It's in Massachusetts, Ma."
It's a full blown explosion; she growls that he better not go there, and he bluffs, saying he's already given his answer. They fight for hours on end, and he finally leaves the house, angrier than he's been in years – angrier than he's been since his father left them.
When he comes back, the day after, Howard hasn't mailed his answer yet; he already lost his father and he realized that MIT's not worth losing his mother too. But she's got an offer.
"I can rent the house for as long as you are going to be studying, and I'll come with you."
Howard wants to say no, because MIT was also a way to get away from her, but in the end, he realizes that he's doomed to live with her no matter what, so he might as well do it while studying at MIT.
She comes with him to the post office when he mails his answer to MIT, and the next three weeks are spent packing for their new life on the Atlantic coast.
ooo
IV. "No husband of mine is going to break his mother's heart!"
Well, at least he tried moving out, didn't he? It's not really Howard's fault that Bernadette's insisting they spend the night at his mother's house, right?
Yeah, start lying to yourself, the point still stands: you can't escape your mother. And deep down, you know it's because you don't want to.
Howard wishes he could shut that little voice at the back of his mind, but he knows it's true. Even when he went into space, his mother followed him – not literally, of course, but she was calling him so often it was as good as if she'd been there with him.
And now, even months into his marriage, weeks after he came back on earth, she's still there. And he wonders, is she the one following him, or is it he who actually can't leave his mother behind? Because as much as he wants to convince himself that she's the one needing him and not the other way around, he's not entirely confident that it's true.
Howard spends half his time at his mother's house, and he's not even sure why. He's married, now, for God's sake. His mother willingly gave him away to another woman, but he still sleeps in his old bedroom once every two nights.
The truth is, as much as he's trying to be his own man, Howard is only nearly leaving his mother.
ooo
V. "She's all yours, now."
Howard and Bernadette look at the little girl, shyly hiding behind the adoption agency employee, before looking happily at each other. It's taking him years of babysitting Leonard and Penny's children, but finally, Howard has convinced Bernadette to have their own child. He knows she's anxious about it, but he also knows that she'll be a great mother. Their friends' kids are teenagers, now, and they only have good things to say about their auntie Bernadette.
Besides, their daughter is older. It was one of Bernadette's conditions: no infant. The little Vietnamese girl is already seven years-old, and Howard knows that at that age, she's going to really stimulate her mother.
Her mother… Bernadette was her mother, and Howard was a father, now.
Hours later, back at their hotel, their daughter soundly sleeping in her bunk bed, Bernadette asks:
"Are we going to give her a new name?"
Howard's thought about it, actually. It could be destabilizing for her to go with a new name after seven years of being Thanh Ha, but she's going towards a new life, now, isn't she? A new name would be fitting, too, and he's found one that he really, really likes.
"Well… I was thinking… we could give her Ma's name. She'll be very happy, and it might actually calm her on the whole "My granddaughter isn't even a real Jew" thing."
Bernadette looks like she's about to protest, but after seventeen years of marriage, she knows better.
"You're never going to leave her, aren't you?"
ooo
VI. It's a dark, dark Tuesday morning, and Bernadette is here, and their daughter is here, and all of their friends are here, but Howard feels the loneliest he's ever been in his life.
He knew it was bound to happen. No one is forever, and with her lifestyle, it's actually a wonder that it didn't happen sooner. That doesn't mean he's ready to let her go. Because no matter how much he's complained about her over the years, she's still his mother, and he realizes now that she's always been as much of an anchor to him as he's been to her. Sure, they've fought a lot, and it's been years since they really talked, without shouting at each other through walls and closed doors, but she's still his mother. For years, no matter what happened, she was the only constant in his life; Howard Joel Wolowitz had a mother.
And now she's gone. He doesn't even fully comprehend what it really encompasses, but she's gone and as he watches her being put into the ground, he feels sick and angry at her. Because all these years, he never left her, no matter what. He stayed by her side and loved her in spite of everything, but she obviously didn't care, because she decided it was time for him to be on his own.
He's fifty seven, now. He doesn't know how to live without his mother. He doesn't know, because he's never had to do it, and when he's given the shovel to bury her, it takes all his strength not to throw it on her dead body. He does it, because it's his duty as her son.
When she's finally buried deep in the ground, he tells his friends and family to go without him. Those are his last moments with her, his mother, one of the three most important women in his life, and he wants to be alone. And when he thinks he is, someone takes his hand in theirs.
It's his teenage daughter. She puts her head on his shoulder and doesn't say anything. And suddenly, there, with her, the daughter who bares his mother's name, he understands: she'll never be gone. She's everywhere, and most importantly, she's in him. She's his Ma, and no matter what, she'll always be. Even from the dead.
A/N: I think I'm gonna do a series of "five things" for all the characters, since I also did "Five names Penny will never wear" a couple of months ago. I like this story format, idk. Don't forget to let me know what you thought about this text :)