Desideratum

Chapter 7

The following morning was gloomy—matching the mood in their house. The sky was covered with clouds that promised rain; the wind had picked up overnight, and the temperatures had dropped enough to force people into long-sleeved blouses and cardigans.

Cadence observed his mother carefully from where he sat in the backseat of the car. She was perfectly put together, like she usually was, but Cadence knew her—he knew how to recognize the tension in her body. She was still distraught, and he had noticed that from the very first moment he saw her that day.

"Mom?" he ventured when they were a few blocks away from his school. Curiosity—and not only that, but also worry —would not allow him to let her leave without another conversation.

"Hmm?" she acknowledged, meeting his eyes in the rearview mirror for a brief moment, before looking back at the road ahead.

"What was that last night?" he asked.

Marinette sighed. "I already told you, sweetie."

"You had a fight," he said, slowly, as though wanting to make sure he understood, "With my dad." His mother swallowed heavily before she answered him. "Yes."

He remained silent for a moment, before he spoke again, "Mom?" He waited until she had glanced at him once again before he continued, "He's not gonna separate us, right?"

"What?" she asked, shocked. "Sweetie, of course not. Where did you get that idea from?" "He can do that," he said, confident.

"No!" Marinette parked in front of the school in one swift maneuver, before she unbuckled her seatbelt and turned to face him. "Cadence, you're watching too many movies again. Nothing—and no one—is taking you away from me."

There was a quiet desperation in her eyes, mixed with fierce protectiveness, but the confidence there made him believe her. Because when his mother made a promise, she respected it. And he knew then—she would do anything to keep him by her side.

"Come on," she murmured with a soft sigh, turning around to get out of the car.

Cadence waited until she opened the door for him to jump out. He didn't miss the few extra seconds it took her to reach his side, seconds she must have spent on getting her bearings. This was affecting her more than she let on, he could see that clearly.

"Okay," she sighed as she crouched down in front of him, holding onto his hands. "I will be here—Is that your teacher?" She frowned at something behind him.

Cadence turned briefly, before facing her again. "Yeah," he said.

"She looks bad today."

"She always looks bad."

Marinette rolled her eyes. "She looks sick."

"She is sick."

She laughed lightly. "How about you lie low today? Not bother her too much?"

"Too much," he agreed.

She smiled, tapping his nose with the tip of her finger. "Alright. Be careful. Be nice. Pay attention to your classes. And I'll be here when you finish. Okay?" Cadence nodded, and closed his eyes when she reached up to brush a lock of blond hair away from his face. "Don't worry. I'll take care of everything."

"You always do," he answered, resisting the urge to roll his eyes.

Marinette's smile grew wider. "Go," she said, kissing his forehead. "Love you."

He never answered, and she watched him leave with a soft look in her eyes. Cadence became upset every time she declined his involvement in a problem, even when he knew there was nothing he could do to help. He felt patronized, he had claimed once, and although Marinette knew Cadence was capable of understanding most things children his age couldn't, she refused to let him become involved, no matter the nature of the issue. He was her child and she was his mother; her duty was to protect him, not to allow him to shoulder the burdens they encountered together.

"Hey," a familiar voice said, bringing her back from her thoughts.

She looked up. "Hey," she greeted back. Her smile was long gone as she stood up, smoothing down the creases in her skirt. "What are you doing here?"

"I figured I would find you here." He sighed, burying his hands into his pockets, as his eyes pierced through her. "We need to talk."

It was almost incredible how much she had changed, yet at the same time, remained the same. She was gorgeous, even more so than the last time he had seen her—something he had deemed impossible in the hours to come. But she was cold, and seemed a million miles away.

During the entire walk to the coffee shop, her eyes had met his once. She refused to look at him when she spoke, and although that was something he had grown used to in the last period of their marriage, her attitude unnerved him now.

As much as he felt that he needed to tell her, eventually it was her who broke the silence.

"Pick him up from school tomorrow," she said, her gaze finally rising to meet his across the table as her hand played almost nervously with the straw of her drink.

Luka blinked. For a moment, he was unable to understand what she was trying to tell him. "Pick him up…?" He blinked, sitting up straighter. "What?"

She looked almost annoyed—as though she wanted to be annoyed, but didn't have the necessary strength. "What part did you not understand?"

"You're not going to be there?"

"No," she answered firmly, looking down at the drink cooling in her hands. "I don't want my presence to sway him in any way."

"And you think leaving him alone with a stranger will be better?" he demanded in a harsh whisper, leaning towards her.

Her eyes met his. "You're not a stranger. You're his father."

"Yeah," he scoffed. "Exactly."

"Look, I know Cadence. And I know that, if I'm there, his focus won't be on you. He'll constantly be looking at me for directions, for approval, constantly checking how I feel, how I look. The expression on my face, the look in my eyes, every word that comes out of my mouth—that's what he'll analyze later on. And that's how he'll come to conclusions. And I don't want that. I want him to know you."

"And your relationship with his father? Doesn't that matter?"

She shrugged, leaning back in her seat. "No. We're on talking terms, and that's that. What Cadence needs from you is a father. I—I don't need anything from you, Luka. Not anymore."

"Why not?" he challenged in a rare act of defiance.

She sighed, and stood up. Her tone was resigned when she spoke her last words.

"Because when I did, you weren't willing to give anything to me."