7: Ina

Sana'y di magmaliw ang dati kong araw,
Nang munti pang bata sa piling ni Nanay;
Nais kong maulit ang awit ni Inang mahal -
Awit ng pag-ibig habang ako'y nasa duyan...
*

Micha scrambled out of the way as Andrew shifted his limbs. She scampered to Raven's lap and gave a soft childish giggle. Raven clutched her daughter to her side, her right hand around Micha's waist. Her left arm encircled little Andrew's. The three of them held their breath together as Raven wondered what to do next.

When nothing happened, Raven's arms relaxed a little, and her children let go. Andrew got on his stomach in front of the older boy's face and laid his hands flat on the floor, resting his chin on them. Sprawled out in this manner, he stared at the sleeping face for a while and then turned to his mother and asked, "When will he wake up?"

Raven began to feel helpless. "I don't know, darling. Just... just leave him alone." She didn't know what to do. She certainly couldn't pick up this young man and put him into bed the way she used to; he looked big enough to tuck her in. She couldn't call someone up from downstairs; it was against their own rules to allow non-members of the family up their staircase. Jim couldn't do it either, not with his new injury - and as Raven realized this, she winced, still looking at Andrew. She couldn't leave him sleeping on the floor, but it looked as if the last thing she wanted to do was the only thing she could do. She gazed sadly at Andrew's face.

Someone tapped her on the shoulder, and Raven turned to see Micha on the window seat behind her, swinging her legs to and fro. Raven's eyes took in the dirt, grass, and juice stains on the white dress that had been immaculate that morning, just right for Micha to wear when Daddy came home. Raven gave a mother's wry smile. "Mama," Micha asked, and little Andrew also looked at her, from his spot on the floor. "Is big Andrew your friend, too?"

Raven smiled sadly and felt tears spring once again into her eyes. As she stroked Micha's hair, memories slowly reappeared, and she saw a dark-haired little boy, running from the recesses of their tiny apartment toward her, arms outstretched, mouth and eyes smiling with glee. "Mama!" he cried out joyfully. Raven couldn't help smiling at the memory, and she even laughed a little and wiped the corner of her eye. In her mind, she lifted the little boy up, and he wrapped his arms around her neck so she could kiss him. With that air of innocence Raven found unique to children, he asked, "Can I sleep in your bed tonight?"

Raven looked up at Micha, and Andrew crept toward her. He put his head under her arm, and she felt his little body wiggle closer to her as he put his head in her lap. Raven looked at the sleeping form. It had been almost ten years, and he still curled up the same way.

"For a third of his life," she whispered, mostly to herself, "he was my only friend..."

From where he stood in the hall, Jim Hawkins spoke, "What's going on here?" His wife and children immediately shushed him. Raven gave him a reproaching look, and he winced. Jim smiled sheepishly, and then nodded thoughtfully, arms crossed as he watched the sleeping Andrew. Raven couldn't help glancing at the sling and bandages that seemed to swallow her husband's left arm. In the back of her mind, she was already scolding him for not going straight to the hospital. She bit her lip and looked weakly at him. "What are we going to do?"

Jim sighed and moved toward her, and soon Raven felt his comforting arm around her shoulders. She couldn't help but rest her head beneath his. Micha jumped down from the window seat and climbed into her father's lap, and he gave soft yelps like "Ow - Micha - ow - sweetie - ouch! Micha, sweetheart, watch out for Daddy's arm..." Raven couldn't help but smile ruefully at the funny look Jim gave her after Micha had settled. I told you so....

And it was in this way that the four of them sat, with the two adults both wondering what to do next, especially when Andrew awoke. The twins waited patiently for their parents to speak, simply contented to be held by Mama and Daddy while watching their new friend.... Of course, children can't be silent and still for long, and soon the two were moving again, and Jim was biting his lip to keep from shouting. He tried to shift Micha, but she stayed unmovable, and he gave Raven another resigned look.

"Mama," little Andrew was asking, "do you know why big Andrew's here?"

Jim and Raven exchanged looks. Micha piped up, "Yeah, Mama, why's Andrew here?"

Raven bit her lip, and Jim nodded, trying to think quickly. Then he looked at Micha and spoke truthfully, without smiling, but still speaking in that slow, almost lilting way adults often use when speaking to children. "Well, sweetheart, we don't really know why Andrew's here. We still have to talk to him." At this last sentence, he looked up at Raven and gave her a meaningful look. "When he wakes up."

The twins nodded. Then little Andrew asked, "Can we stay and talk to him too, when he wakes up?"

Jim opened his mouth, but Raven shook her head. "No, darling, just me and Daddy first. Maybe the two of you can talk to him later, when we're done."

Again, the twins nodded. They both took a last look at Andrew, who through this entire conversation had remained asleep. His breathing was deep and regular, and he didn't make a sound. Then, the two children got up, eliciting more cries from Jim, and scampered down the stairs in silent obedience to a silent command. Within moments, they returned, and Micha snatched her toy ship from the rug and then ran off again, but they both stopped at the top of the stairs and watched Andrew for a few moments. Then, without a word, they were gone.

=*=

Soon, Andrew felt the strange realization of a newly woken person that he had been asleep, and he groaned. He felt stiff from being on the floor, but his head was clearer. His eyes flew open as he remembered that he was on the forbidden fourth floor, and he sat up with a start. He searched the room for Micha, but she had gone.

Instead, light from the late afternoon sun poured in through the window behind his beautiful mother, casting an ethereal glow around her. She gave a tiny smile.

Andrew found that he could only stare. His mother hadn't changed at all. Ravenna Calls was older, but still in possession of an angelic face, framed by glossy, thick, dark hair that age hadn't yet touched; a face set with equally dark jewels with the unique light of dawn from beneath her brow.... His eyes filled with tears at the sight, a sight he'd believed he would never see again.

"Andrew," she said. Even her voiced seemed to float through him and settle into his core. Ten years, he thought. Ten years since I last heard her voice....

She looked at him fearfully, unsure of what to do or say. Andrew was not aware that in his own eyes could be found a childlike plea for affirmation, assurance, and comfort. He felt a sharp guilt for what he had done and what he could have done, but he still believed that somehow, she would make everything "all better".... A lump rose in his throat and stuck like the words he didn't know how to push out. He fought to keep the tears from falling, and he bit his lower lip to keep from sobbing.

In the end, it was Raven who couldn't take it any longer, and she reached forward. But he was no longer a little boy she could hold safely in her lap but a tall, broad-shouldered young man, and he scrambled backward, out of her reach.

He didn't want her to see him like this - when he was little, he believed that his Mama could see into every corner of his being if he let her. He felt so vulnerable now, and he wanted to hold on to the last shreds of his defenses. He didn't want her to see how dark things had become inside him, because even he wasn't sure of who he was. She cried out, but he stood up and staggered backward into the railing above the staircase. Then he turned and ran down the stairs.

In the hall, he bumped into guests, staff, and even Sarah Hawkins herself, but he paid no mind to any of them or to his surroundings. He needed air. He needed to get out. He burst through the door and into the red sunshine, but he ran all the way down the path before stopping to catch his breath, resting his palms on his knees. Then he stood up and looked back at the Inn, wondering vaguely if his mother would come out. His mother...

Andrew's heart sank. All his plans had fallen through, and now he didn't know what to do. He bit his lip and decided to head for the inner city, where a shady little guest room was waiting for him; he'd planned to hide out there after -- after he killed Jim Hawkins. Yes, all his plans had fallen through. He swallowed and turned away from the inn.

It quickly became dark, and Andrew could see the crescent spaceport in the sky, reflecting a silvery gray light from the now-hidden Montressor sun. The streets were filled, not with the cheery vendors and good-natured, loud citizens of the daylight, but with their shady, wickedly grinning counterparts. They gathered on street corners and leered from dark alleys at him, but he paid them no mind. He was used to all sorts of people of all walks of life; he'd met them all, hurrying down similar streets in Capernæuma to a fight.

As he went in search of the house at the address on the stained slip of paper, Andrew couldn't help but think back to the moment in the little living room at the Benbow. His mother was probably crying now, in Jim's arms most likely, with Micha and little Andrew... they were the only ones she could really call her children now. She didn't deserve a son like him.

"You want something, kid?"

Andrew looked up suddenly and noticed the squat two-headed creature sitting on a filthy doorstep. He fumbled with the slip of paper and then said, "Uh, I'm looking for four-eighty-seven Lepton Street..." His voice trailed off, and he kept his head down. He knew his eyes were red, and he didn't want this creature to see. He rubbed them quickly and tried not to sniff.

"Well, you came to the right place," said the head on the left. It was missing an eye. "So, you want something?"

"I reserved a room this morning. Number 12."

The creature sighed. The head on the right answered, "Got bad news for you, kid. Thought you were dead by then, walking in these parts the way you were, so I gave Number 12 to someone else." Then it added, "You're smarter than you let on."

Andrew felt confident enough to look the creature in the eye(s), and he saw that their heads were pear-shaped and their necks were like noodles; their heads seemed to be like balloons that waved this way and that, simply tethered by strings. They were both blind. When he was little, this would have unnerved him, but he spoke to the innkeeper calmly, half-distracted by his own thoughts. "That's okay, I'm not really sleepy right now. Who is, really?" he added, waving a hand at some of the street people. "What I need right now... is a place to work out."

The innkeeper nodded both heads, which looked funny. "Turn left after turning right three blocks from here..."

Andrew only half-listened to the directions, but he managed to find his way. Every building, every street was dark, but he felt more at home here. No one cared about who you were; in this world, everyone else was trying to stay on their toes. If you could throw a punch or manage a cutlass, so much the better for you, and Andrew could do both. As long as you stayed out of each other's way, you wouldn't have to worry about ever having to use those skills. More chances were, though, that you would within 24 hours of setting foot in the inner city.

Once in the gym, Andrew sighted a more dimly-lit corner (if that was possible) with an unused punching bag. Over the years, working out had become a release - he could take out every bit of his anger and frustration on something that didn't hit back or get hurt. He tossed his coat on the floor and peeled of his shirt, dropping this on top of the coat. He adjusted his mitts, and then whispered, "Let's have at it then, Andrew."

One. Two. Simon had lied to him. His mother had not died, and Jim was not a lunatic. One. Two. Simon had kidnapped him. Kidnapped him, stolen him from a real family. B******. One. Two... Humanistic theory, Andrew... cooed a soft voice. No matter how great his sin, a man cannot lose his value...

One. Two. Simon was his father, and he missed him. Simon had taken care of him, after all - given him money, power, and education. One. Two. To Simon, his mother was the kidnapper and the thief, and he had simply taken him back. One. Two. And to make sure that it would be easier for him, Andrew, and that he wouldn't want to go home, Simon made sure that Andrew believed there was no other home left. One. Two. A bomb near her office was set off, so that he'd believe she was dead. It seemed so clear now...

One. Two. But his mother was not dead. She was alive, in love, and a mother again. One. Two. Jim, when Andrew thought about it, couldn't be a killer, not with such a goofy face... One. Two. Once again, it all boiled down to the fact that Simon had turned Andrew's life into one big lie... One. Two. Three! Andrew finished off with a roundhouse kick, and then he stilled the swinging bag.

He wiped his forehead with his arm and then took his stance to begin again. Someone came up behind him and slid her hand on her shoulder and down to his chest, forcing his arms down. "Ooh, somebody's strong," she breathed. Andrew didn't even turn around, he simply waved her arm aside. But she grabbed the chain around his neck and pulled so he was forced to step backward. She glided in front of him, blocking his path. "What are these," she asked huskily, fingering the rings on the chain.

He pushed her aside and began punching the bag again. One. Two. "Wedding rings," he answered.

She tossed her violet hair - yes, it was violet - and asked, "Your mothers'?"

One. Two. "Mine."

A gurgling giggle escaped from her throat, and she leaned against the wall. Andrew wrinkled his nose. She smelled of alcohol and a different kind of smoke. "That's nice... Why don't you and I pretend that I own the other ring, hmm?" She let her voice trail off.

One. Two. "No thanks," he answered coldly. His brow furrowed, and he swore under his breath. "I plan on giving it to someone less... " and he used a swear word in the violet-haired girl's dialect. She was silent, and then she stormed off. Andrew simply smirked and shook his head, and he vaguely thought that girls like her were usually more aggressive.

One. Two. He missed Alison, too. They'd been a bit... young to get married, sure. But at the time, she'd been the surest thing in his life. Now nothing was sure anymore. One. Two. He'd enjoyed thoughts of buying a big house, far away from his father, and imagining her in it. And maybe filling it with children...

One. Two. He wondered what his mother was doing now. One. Two. He increased his tempo. One. Two. If only things were different. If only he could go back to the day Simon picked him up. One. Two. If he had struggled more, maybe he'd have gotten away. One. Two. Maybe then he could have run back to his mother, and found her safe. One. Two. Maybe then he'd be part of her new family. Jim would be his father. One. Two. The twins would be his little sister and little brother. One. Two. Maybe. Just maybe... One. T -

"Ow! S***!" He turned, and the violet-haired girl was smiling triumphantly, hands on her hips. Others in the gym were grinning wickedly as Andrew rubbed the small of his back. He took note of the brick on the floor and was silently thankful that the girl had little strength and a bad aim; she'd missed his spine, and the bruise wasn't going to be there for long.

He felt the blood rush to his head, and he clenched his fists even tighter. He took a step toward the girl when a shriek broke through to him.

"Help! Help me, Andrew, please! Help m - "

Andrew's blood ran cold as he saw someone's tiny feet flailing near the doorway. A large slug creature had in his grip a small, dark-haired boy. He cast Andrew a menacing smile, and then he disappeared. His own name escaped Andrew's throat in a fierce cry, and he started toward the doorway to follow.

*Author's Note: Ina means "mother" in Filipino. The phrase at the beginning of this chapter comes from a traditional Filipino lullaby and is translated thus: I hope my days before will never fade, when I was a child in Mother's arms; I want to hear again beloved Mother's songs - songs of love while I was in the cradle.

In writing this chapter, I wanted to begin with a phrase that summed up what Andrew felt but could not find one that expressed what I wanted. They say that the native tongue among other tongues is dearest to your heart, and so I chose Sa Ugoy ng Duyan (In the Cradle's Swing) because in my country, this song is sung in honor of mothers' love. I ask your forgiveness if I had you wondering at the start.