A/N: Thank you for the support! This chapter is in Micah's point of view.
Text in italics are flashbacks.
Enjoy!
Chapter One: Your Hero
Two weeks later:
You were just barely getting by, every day without your mom was harder as each day went on. You find yourself just going through the motions. But every night since you broke down in front of your mama she makes you cuddle with her just to have you close by and you have this feeling that when Christmas break commences every time you're not at work, you'll be in her arms.
You're sitting in English when Timothy is talking about a paper that he wanted you to write over break and to have a rough draft to him the day you get back.
"It's your big junior paper," he said. "We'll be working with it throughout the rest of the school year."
You tuned him out, you kept thinking about your mom and how if she were still alive she would be bugging you about what you were doing while you were writing it. Anchor Beach makes you write a big paper every year in high school.
"In preparation for college," you remember your mama telling you.
When you were writing the paper in your sophomore year, it was right after your mom was diagnosed with stage four stomach cancer.
"Whatcha doing?" Your mom said with a spring in her step walking into your room. It was the most energy she's had in awhile.
"Writing that big paper for sophomore year," you responded.
"What do you say you ditch that for a few hours and we go to the batting cages or something," she said.
"Are you sure you're up for that?" You asked.
"I may be sick, but I still can have some fun with my favorite son." She said.
"I won't tell Brandon, Jesus, and Jude you just said that." You said not looking up from your MacBook.
"Yeah, it'll be our little secret," she said, "so what do you say?"
"Can I at least finish this paragraph?" You asked.
"Sure," she said. "What's it on this time?"
"About your hero," you said, "somebody who you really look up to. Somebody that has made a huge impact on your life."
Your mom softly smiled, "And who are you doing it on?" She asked.
You looked up from tying your shoes, "You," you said softly.
"Micah," you were brought out of your thoughts by Timothy standing right in front of you. Sometimes you can see how this guy is your sperm donor and other times you just want nothing to do with him.
Right now, it was the latter of the two.
"Yes?" You answered with a hoarse voice.
"You wanna come back to class now?" He asked.
"I am in class," you answered back sarcastically.
"Okay, you want to mentally come back to class now?" He rephrased his question.
"Sorry," you mumbled.
"Okay, so the topic you're going to write about is how you only live once," he further explained. "You can add experiences from life or hypothetical situations. Just make it good and well written."
As you were gathering up your stuff to go to lunch, Timothy stopped you.
"Hey Micah, hang back for a sec?" He asked.
"What's up?" You said putting your letterman jacket on.
"Are you doing okay?" He asked. "I mean I know Stef dying has taken a toll on you and your mom."
"I'm fine," you said, pretty hastily because he's implying that Stef isn't your mom. At least when your other teacher checked in they referred to their boss as your mama and your mom as your mom. "We're learning how to live with the void."
"I guess that's good," he said. "But, you're distracted in class, the more you keep doing that, the more I'm going to report to your mother."
"That what?" You said now getting angry, "That I show up to your class, sit here through countless love stories in Shakespeare? That I sit here through the pain of losing my mom? My hero? The one person who understood me better than I understood myself? I show up Timothy. I show up even when I don't want to. You should give me that. Give me that."
"How should I give you credit when you look like your on the verge of crying all the time?" He said back angrily. "Yes, you're here and I get it that you're hurting. But you have to move on."
"It's been three weeks," you argued. "Three weeks after sixteen years. Give me time."
Just as the last three words came out of your mouth the door opened, you both look to see your mama poke her head in. She must've been doing her lunch rounds when she heard the argument break out.
"Is everything okay in here?" She asked.
You took a deep breath before you said, "Can you tell Timothy that you can't get over the death of somebody in three weeks, please?" You said trying not break.
She looked between the two of you as she walked further into the classroom, "Are you telling my son that it's not okay to grieve?" She asked him, placing an arm around your back, "because for one that's not healthy and two it's unethical as a teacher for you to do so."
"Well tell your son that sitting in my class daydreaming isn't okay." He argued.
"We're trying to get by right now," your mama said. "He's entitled to feel whatever he feels and you can't make him feel bad about that at all whatsoever, okay?" She said in her full on mama tiger voice.
"Okay," he held his hands up defensively. He realized how out of line he was, so when he turned to you, he said, "I'm sorry."
Tears welled up in your eyes, "It's okay, but next time, maybe take into consideration that just because I have half your DNA in that she was just as much as my mom as she is," you said gesturing to Lena. "She was and never will be Stef to me." You said as you picked up your backpack and walked out of the classroom.
You walked and walked and walked. You passed by your friends and you kept walking. You walked until you got to the part of the beach where you and your mom would always have lunch together, especially after she got sick and felt up to moving around.
You sat in that spot and curled into a ball remembering the first time she brought you here during freshman year after the shooting:
"How'd you manage to find the closest yet most private part of the beach near campus?" You asked.
Your mom shrugged, "When your mama and I first started dating, we'd have lunch dates out here." She said.
"Please tell me all you two did was eat out here," you said with a look of disgust.
She laughed, "You think I would take your mama in my police uniform somewhere other than the privacy of our bedroom?" She said just to keep that look on your face.
"Eww, Mom," you said, "I love that you and Mama love each other, but I don't need to know details."
You lie there and remember that day, you don't know how long you lie there, but it's long enough to feel arms being wrapped around you, you look up and see that it's your mama with a concerned look on her face. She just held you for what felt like forever.
"I signed you out for the day and got the rest of your homework from your teachers," she said finally, "you and I are going for a drive."
Your eyes filled with tears, "Are-are you sure?" You asked.
She smiled softly, "Yes," she said. "Come on baby."
You get up and were ushered to your mama's car, she had grabbed your backpack and put it in the back seat of her car.
"What-what about Mom's car?" You asked knowing that you drove that this morning.
"I let campus police know that we're going to come back to get it," she said. "We're only going to be gone for a few hours. I just need to take care of you baby. Will you please let me do that?"
You looked down and then looked up and said, "Okay."
"Okay," she repeated and started the car.
Your mama grabs your hand when she started to drive and she didn't let go. She just held onto your hand and for the first time since the funeral, you felt safe.
The two of you drove into Orange County to the special place that you and your mama had when you were bullied in elementary school. She used to take you out of San Diego and the two of you found your spot on the beach. The last time she took you here was the day after you were told that your mom had cancer.
You were listening to the waves and you noticed that your mama was shivering, so you took off your letterman jacket and wrapped it around her.
"Thank you honey," she said.
"No problem," you said. "How-how are you?"
"I've been better." She said. "Your mom she's a strong one."
You nodded, "This is scary," you admitted. "I just thought she had a stomach flu or kept eating things that were bad."
"I wish it was that simple," your mama said. "How are you doing?"
"If I'm honest," you said, "not very good."
"Well thank you for being honest," she said.
"You remember the last time we were here?" Your mama asked you as you wrapped your letterman jacket around her, holding her close to you.
"Yeah," you said. "Two days after you told me, the day after you told the siblings."
"I'm sorry that it took us so long to get back here." She said.
"Mom's health really did decline at the end," you said, "If I'm honest, I'm really surprised she made it to Thanksgiving."
"I'm really sorry Timothy referred to her by her name in front of you." Your mama said. "That was an ongoing battle from before you were even born."
"It's okay," you said. "I kind of figured, it made sense once you and Mom told me that he was my sperm donor."
It was the second day of freshman year and your English teacher was acting strange around you. So you decided to ask your moms some questions. You walked into the kitchen nook to see them sitting their with glasses of wine.
"Hey Moms," you said hesitantly.
"What's up my baby?" Your mom asked.
"I have a question," you said.
"Okay?" Your mama said, making room between the two of them so you could sit.
"Is there by any chance that my sperm donor is my English teacher?" You asked causing both women to spit out their sips of wine.
"What?" They both asked you.
"It's just Timothy is acting weird around me and you never really told me who my donor was and I'm almost positive it wasn't Mike. And I didn't really think about it until today because you two are enough. I just guess my curiosity is getting the best of me."
You watched as they shared a look and even though you think you now know the answer, you were scared of what may come out of their mouth.
"Miracle boy," your mom said, "yes, he's is your sperm donor."
"Alright, that makes sense then," you said, "how he's treating me."
"How is he treating you?" Your mama asked.
"Just different, like he's trying to win me over or something."
You saw your mom roll her eyes, "You know I love you no matter what, yes?"
You nodded, "Of course, nothing will ever stop that." You said.
She kissed your head and you smiled softly.
"Did you say something to him after that night?" You asked your mama.
She nodded, "I did. Just because I can't control what classes you get into with what teachers, doesn't mean that he should try to win you over. That's not okay."
You looked down before saying, "I'm sorry for blowing up on him today."
She kissed your temple, "He said you spent half of the class daydreaming and looking like you were on the verge of crying."
You sighed and ran your hand through your hair, "He was talking about the big junior paper and it brought me back to the sophomore paper and how I wrote it on Mom."
Your mama smiled, "She felt so honored," she said.
"I keep it in my letterman jacket," you said sheepishly.
Your mama pulled it out of your letterman jacket and smiled to see it folded into fours.
My Hero by Micah Adams Foster
My hero ironically isn't the same as in the comic books that I spend most of my Sunday mornings reading or the video games that I play all day on Saturday. In fact, for a long time, the North Park area of the city of San Diego has consider her their hero long before I was born. Officer Stefanie Adams Foster or as I know her Mom, she's is and always has been my hero. I'm the youngest of six children, the age gap between myself and my older brother Jude is 13 years. So, it pretty much makes me an only child. My mom and I got close after my mama took the job as principal. It's like we click in some way. She understand sports stats like the back of her hand and she's like the best mom-friend you could ever have. Sometimes we gain up on my mama with our sarcasm and banter, but that's not something any of us would trade for the world.
She's my hero because she saves me every single day. When I'm happy, she'll play catch with me and we'll joke around like there's nothing in the world to worry about. When I'm sad, she'll take me to the beach and we'll surf and then eat at a diner that serves our comfort food. When I'm mad, she'll let me yell, scream, and get it out, and then hold me reassuring me that everything's okay. When I'm bored, she'll take me to the batting cages or to a Chargers or Padres game. When I just need somebody to be there for me to listen, she'll listen with no judgement. It's cool because while most kids can't open up to their parents, I can and I feel no judgement towards how I'm feeling.
When I was born, I almost didn't make it and because of that she often refers to me as Miracle Boy. She makes me feel like I'm a superhero myself and sometimes I do feel like I am. Especially now, a couple of days before I started writing this essay, my moms got the entire family together on Google Hangout to tell us something, I was in my room, looking into the camera when the words I have stomach cancer came out of her mouth. I watched my five siblings spread out across the country and their reactions as they watched mine. Sometimes, even though I know the truth, I think she's indestructible. Although she's not working at the moment, she's trying to keep living life. And to me that's inspiring.
Joseph Campbell once said, "A hero is someone who has given his or her life to something bigger than oneself." It's safe to say that both my moms have done that, but my mom, more than anybody else that I know. She gave herself to the North Park area of San Diego. She gives herself to my mama, even when she felt uncomfortable doing so. She gives herself to her six children, even if we all are the reason why she has grey hair and is stressed out all the time. She gives herself to her grandchildren, even if they are all on the East Coast. She gives us all so much and for that, she's forever going to be my hero.
Heroes don't always wear capes, sometimes they wear flannel shirts and jeans. Sometimes they don't wear masks, they wear soft smiles. Sometimes they don't have the coolest names in the world, sometimes they're called Mom.
You watched as your mama read your essay again and you watched as she wiped the tears away and suddenly you feel guilty that you primarily only talked about your mom.
"You know, you're my hero too." You said softly. "Timothy specifically said to narrow it down to one person."
She brushes your curls out of your face, "I know baby," she said. "I'm really glad that you and your mom had such a special bond that I didn't quite understand most of the time."
"Is it true that she initially didn't want me?" You asked remembering how she apologized to you one time when she was sitting in chemo.
"I'm sorry," she said weakly as you were holding her hand in chemo as your mama went to go get something to drink.
"Uh, what for Mom?" You asked caressing the back of her hand with your thumb.
"At first, when Mama and I were trying to get pregnant with you, I didn't want her to have you." She said, "And that's my biggest regret in life."
You swallowed back tears and you said, "It's fine, you've made up for that."
"I'm glad you feel that way, Miracle Boy."
Your mama nodded her head, "We were trying to adopt Callie and Jude at the time. The timing of it was a little off." She said. "But, your mom loved you so much. I remember the doctor placing you in her arms for the first time. She was so happy. In all honesty, you've been your Mom's boy ever since the beginning." You smiled and nodded your head. "You know, it's okay to be mad."
"It's not that I'm mad at Mom. It's just I get jealous of my siblings." You said.
"Why?" She asked you placing her head on your shoulder.
You took a deep breath, "She got to see them all graduate from high school, graduate from college, get married, and have kids. But, she didn't get to do that with me and how when I tell her that I'm getting married, she won't have that teary eyed look she had with the siblings." You said.
"I didn't think about that," she said. "I'm sorry."
"It's not your fault either," you said. "Not at all your fault. It's like what you said, we just need to figure out how to live with this void in our life. And I apologize in advance in silence is that void. Mom always got me riled up one way or another."
"It's fine," she said. "Just know I'm going to be here no matter what. I love you."
"I love you too, Mama," you said with tears in your eyes.
The two of you sat there listening to the waves and even though it was just you two, somehow it felt like your mom was sitting there creating the perfect mamasandwich.
Chapter End: Hope that wasn't too sad. I gotta say, Stef is one of my favorite characters, so this is hard to write, but it's healing to me in my situation right now. So I'm doing it. :)