Fourteen Years Later
"Mum."
"Mum?"
"Mum! I gotta go to school. Let's go!"
You rolled over sleepily. You almost got up, but then you said, "it's Saturday."
"Happy thirty-third birthday!" Your son shook you.
You turned in bed and stared at him hard. "Mommy's only twenty-eight, dear," you mumbled, giving him a pat on the arm.
He smirked. He had his father's smirk. His father's eyes. His father's hair. His father's build. Even his father's personality.
He was pretty much a shorter version of Matt, without the cigarettes, video games, guns, and goggles. None were allowed in your house, but he was free to do whatever pleased him over a friends house, as long as he never ever brought up the aforementioned things around you.
He handed you a birthday card that sang "Happy Birthday" to you.
You smiled. "Thanks, Hun." You sat up in bed and he danced out of the room. He came back in with a tray covered in breakfast foods. Your eyes widened.
"I hope it's all OK. I cooked French toast. The rest is, see, fruit, cereal, orange juice. I can make French toast, though. Remember you taught me the other day?" His eyes lit up as you took a bite.
It wasn't all that bad. Not all that good, but it was better than the first time you made your own. You ate all of the French toast, some of the cereal, and all of the fruit.
"Thanks. What was that for?" you asked as he washed the dishes.
You had a house now, and were quite wealthy from your job as a lawyer. Matt, your son, was fourteen and a freshman in high school. He was top of his class, even though it was only October. He never complained about work, which was the only way he was like you. You had never complained about work. Your husband, however, would complain about it and then blow it off. You were glad that, in some ways, your son was like you.
"I can cook a little, so I thought you'd like a gift. I don't have a lot of money, since I just bought a... trip to the mall," he recovered. You guessed that he had gotten a video game, which he would keep at his friend's house because it was not allowed at home.
He'd bitch and complain about that rule, but he never really minded much. You could tell. And he practically lived at his friends' houses, so it didn't really matter.
"Thanks," you responded absentmindedly.
There was a knock at the door. You were in your pajamas, but Matt was dressed. "Can you get that?"
"Yup." He walked to the door and returned with a dozen roses.
"What's that?" you asked, curious to who could possibly have sent you those. Roger? Robert? Robert, as in Mr. Smith, but after all these years, he had just asked you to call him by his first name.
"Err... It says N. What does tha-"
You grabbed the flowers. "N? Near. What does he want?" You weren't as angry as you sounded, just hurt and curious about the sudden blast from the past.
"Near? Who's he?"
"A friend from a long time ago."
"Oh."
You looked at the tag on the flowers. There was a note written in neat script. Your mind was working to fast to process the words completely, but you caught the gist of the message: He wanted to see you.
--
You took Matt to the building where you had spent a little over a week in almost fifteen years ago. It hadn't changed. Nothing around it had changed, except there was a new pizza place next door. There was a pain in your chest. After all these years, what had changed on the inside?
You went through the doors, staring at the security cameras as you did. Matt stood right behind you nervously as you made your way confidently to where Near would be.
The room was room temperature. No extreme cold temperatures. This saddened you and your chest and head tightened. Near must have known you could sweat with no problem, and that hurt your heart.
In the middle of the floor was a man in pure white, sitting on one leg, holding an action figure above his head that you recognized immediately.
"You found it wi..." You couldn't finish your whispered sentence. Your throat hurt from holding back your tears.
"Yes, I found it three months after you left," Near answered. His back was to you, and he didn't turn. Other than Near and Matt, all eyes were on you. Matt was staring at everyone else, one at a time, until they rested on Near's back. Near was staring at his toys.
"Is that they guy who sent you flowers, Mum?" Matt asked.
You nodded. "Yeah. Why don't you sit somewhere?"
"No," Near answered. "Come over here, Matt."
Matt looked at you for a minute, extremely surprised. You nodded toward Near and shrugged. Matt walked over to him, stopping in front of him about a foot away.
"Matt, I'm Near. Do you know anything about your father?"
You gasped in unison with Matt. Yours was variety of negative emotions, his was just curious.
"Don't worry," Near said, bringing his action figure for a flight around his head, "I'm not your father. What has your mother told you about him?"
"Near..." you said, refusing to speak any more. You passed the message that you didn't want to hear any more with just his name.
Near didn't turn to you. "He's fourteen. Let him know about his father."
"She doesn't talk about him. It doesn't matter, I hate him, anyway." Matt's voice was cold, and it confused you.
"Why?" you asked. There was no reason for Matt to hate his father! He didn't even know hi- Oh.
Matt stared at the floor. "He's not here."
"You told him nothing, Hail?" Near's question didn't seem to be very curious. It seemed like he already knew.
"What are you talking about? My dad's a deadbeat, right?" Matt demanded, his eyes lifted slightly to Near.
"Be nice to him, Matt!" You frowned, upset that you had come here. And even though you wanted to leave, to drag Matt home and bury these thoughts, you wanted more for Matt to know about his father. But you weren't strong enough to talk about him yet.
So Near told the story. Matt stood, mouth agape, at the long description Near told him. The story was from practically your husband's first day at Wammy's to the day he d... died.
Matt didn't look at you for a while, but when he did, his eyes weren't angry. He wasn't mad that you had never told him about his father.
"I'm not mad, Ma. I understand that it must have been hard for you, so I'm not mad. Not at all." Matt's voice was so strong, you knew with all your heart he wasn't lying.
Near stood. "So, now, Matt... I have something to give you."