1)
There was a certain kindness about him. Like an old friend from your youth. One of those that you could entrust your deepest in, and know it would never come back out. Sort of an innocence lost in a way. But yet he was a protector of sorts, sharp-faced and strong-eyed. One who stood like a stone wall in the light of fear or unsettlement.
I watched as the light shown upon his face. Watched how the rays made his features more apparent. Watched how the dark shade was painted on his hollow cheeks, and how the light glimmered in his dark eyes. He was looking intently at himself. In that old mirror. The gilded frame with its intricate designs, and the signature film and smudges it seemed to never lose. It hung in the evening-dim hallway above the dark stained wooden table with its matching handles. It stood out on the otherwise simple wall. The normal grey-blue tinted paint, the average array of family photos, and those of nothing more than memories to be remembered. It was by far my favourite wall of our home. It was on the short hallway that led to our bedroom, straight ahead of our front door.
It was around seven or eight at the time. I was too focused on my husband's doings to look over to a clock. I was already done in preparing for our night out. It was almost dark out. The fall weather was my favourite, even if it did involve such early sunsets. All that did was provide an almost certain cold outdoors.
I heard small, scurrying footsteps, quickly approaching myself, who was leaned against the wall. I knew very well who they belonged to. As usually though, the boy who those footsteps belonged to, didn't come for me.
"Can I have dinner now?" He asked, when he ran into his father and wrapped him arms around his leg.
"Almost. Is your mother ready to go?" George responded.
"I've been ready. It's you who's been taking so long." I answered.
Tonight was a special occasion. Not a holiday, or birthday, but even better. It was an anniversary. Something I always thought of as pointless, until I got the chance to have one. I remember me and George's first anniversary very well. To summarise that event, it's the reason we have our son now. We were married young, I was just barely twenty. George was a few months older than me, so he was also twenty.
"Nicky, baby, are your shoes tied?" I asked my son, already observing that his shoes weren't tied.
"No." He answered.
"I'll get them." George volunteered.
Nick sat down in a chair and George bent down to tie our son's shoes. Usually we wouldn't take him on our dates, but we had no choice. We had no one to keep him for the night, and he had been sick anyway, so I didn't want to put that burden on someone else.
Dealing with him being sick is not a treat. He stayed in our bed, which was alright until he wouldn't go to his own bed at night, then I would have to deal with my son being in the way of the only time I had alone with my husband. George would lay with him till he fell asleep for a nap, then get up, then have to go back when Nick woke-up because he didn't want to be without George. I would have to check on him and give him medicine. He was still sick tonight, but I couldn't leave him here alone for two hours. So I made him come with us.
"Do you feel alright, sweetness?" I asked as I picked him up and held him.
"No." he answered, laying his head on my chest.
"I'm sorry, but you have to come with us. I promise when we get home you can go right to sleep." I told him.
_
"What am I supposed to do with a two year old on my anniversary dinner?" I asked myself at our table.
Nick was getting quite restless, seeing as he had been sitting in the same place for a while. He had already made it clear that he was ready to go to bed. Right now he as sitting in between Grey and myself. Mostly leaned against me. He had already eaten, and me and Grey were in the middle of it.
"Daddy, are you done yet?" Nick asked me for about the tenth time.
"Do I look done?" I asked him.
He shook his head.
"Nick, would you stop annoying your father, sit still, and be quiet?" Grey asked him without a happy tone.
"He's not annoying me. I think he's annoying you." I said to her.
"My baby would never annoy me." She said.
"So he can annoy me?" I asked, "You know without me he would not even be here."
"I know that. He wouldn't be so mad without you either." She said.
"I am not mad." I told her.
"You wouldn't have about run me out of a life if you weren't mad." She said.
"You would not have everything you do without that happening. My apparent madness is how all this happened." I told her.
_
When we were at home, I put Nick to bed and then back to me and George's bedroom. When I arrived to our room, he was lying on the bed.
"Are you tired?" I asked, laying on the bed next to him.
"Quite." He answered, "Is that a problem with you?"
"Not at all." I replied.
He pulled me close to him. I could hear him breathing, not my favourite thing.
"Do you remember everything?" I asked him.
"Everything about what?" He asked.
"How we met. And our relationship leading up to where we are now." I explained.
"I remember all of it. Everything. Even the parts I would rather forget." He told me.