Finn POV
Thank God that went ok. I had been really, really scared that as soon as I saw Mom, I would start screaming at her, or do something really humiliating like starting to cry or refusing to move off the Hummel's front porch. But when I saw her standing by the car, like she wasn't sure what she should do, I remembered how much I loved her, no matter what she had done. Then I thought about how much I had screwed up by running from her, and how scared she must have been that she was losing the only real family member she had left, and I felt even worse. It's like I told Kurt: sometimes, I'm a huge asshole.
But not this time. This time, I had done exactly the right thing, which didn't happen very often. I even remembered to slow my speed down before I got to her, so I didn't totally mow her down, like I almost did to Mr. Shue a few days ago. I think I still hit her a little too hard, because she kind of gasped, like I had knocked the wind out of her, but she was hugging me as tightly as she could so it couldn't be that bad. She was crying, which made me feel like crying, too. It wouldn't have been so bad for Mom to see it, or even Kurt, but I would rather die then have Mr. Hummel see me crying like a little bitch. The guy was not only my boyfriend's father, he might end up being my stepfather one day, and I needed him to like me.
So, he is your boyfriend now? He's not your buddy, or your bro, or your kinda-, sorta-, almost-, boyfriend? He's the real thing? Because, Finn, you seem to go back and forth about that an awful lot.
I think that Quinn-voice might still be kind of pissed off that I didn't listen to her last time, about leaving the death certificate alone. I didn't see what her problem was, though. Of course I wanted Kurt to be my real boyfriend, hadn't I told him that? Ok, maybe I hadn't actually told him that, but I had called him my boyfriend and he hadn't said he didn't want to be, so wasn't that a yes? Or maybe not, I wasn't sure.
Normally, I would have asked Mom, but she was making that determined face and I didn't think it was a good idea to try and ask anything right now. Plus, I was, you know, still not real happy with her. Maybe I would just ask Rachael. She's got two dads, so she must know all about how you could tell if someone was your actual boyfriend or just this guy you really liked screwing around with.
God you're stupid.
Before I could come up with a good reply to that (and let's face it, Quinn-voice is kinda, well, right) we were home, and Mom was looking at me. "Can we go inside and talk?"
There was an embarrassingly large part of me that wanted to throw a huge fit and refuse to leave the car, but I was also pretty curious about what she actually had to say. "Ok."
"Do you want something to eat or drink before we start?"
I might be kind of stupid, but I'm smart enough to recognize a stall when I see one. God knows, I get enough practice when it comes to explaining why I hadn't turned my homework in. I wasn't hungry, but I wanted her to feel like she was doing something, so I nodded. "Can I have a Coke?"
She nodded and got one out of the fridge. "Come on in the living room."
It sort of seemed like I ought to fight with her about this, but I honestly didn't have the strength. So I followed her through the kitchen and into the living room, where she sat in Dad's chair and held out her arms. I shook my head. "I'm too heavy for you." Even though I really, really wanted to.
"No you aren't. You're still my baby."
Except I outweighed her by like 100 pounds. Still, I managed to wedge myself into her lap; my legs stretched way out in front of me. Mom kissed the top of my head, just like I had done to Kurt earlier.
Thinking about Kurt made me remember what he had said, about listening to her side of the story. I hugged her tightly and nodded against her shoulder. "Ok, tell me all about Dad."
"I didn't want you to find out like you did. I knew that I had to tell you the truth, but I just couldn't. First I thought you were too young to understand, then it seemed like it would ruin this perfect image you had of your dad, then I didn't want you to worry about your own health, and suddenly you were a teenager and it seemed like I couldn't tell you, because it had gone on for too long. Do you understand?"
I wanted to say no, but I actually did. After all, I had tried to hide the fact that Quinn was pregnant from her pretty much the same way. First I didn't tell her because I wanted to see a positive pregnancy test myself, then I didn't tell her because maybe there would be something wrong with Drizzle (not that I was hoping for that!) and then Quinn wanted to give her away anyway and then….yeah, I got where she was coming from. "Uh-huh. But not telling me made things even worse. I mean, I had to find out from a piece of paper, all by myself. That wasn't fair." That was supposed to sound angry and tough, but I mostly sounded like I wanted to cry, which I did.
"I know. I never wanted to hurt you, Finn, that was the last thing I wanted. I should have just told you the truth from the beginning, but…well, I screwed up, and I'm sorry. I was wrong."
Somehow, hearing her admit that made me feel a little better. It was nice to know that adults fucked things up sometimes too, that it wasn't just us kids. I was still upset, but at least she had thought about my feelings before she lied, instead of being like Quinn and only thinking about how quickly she could screw me over. I pressed even closer, my arms as tight around her as I could make them without choking her. "You were, but I love you."
"I love you, too, Finn. More then anyone else in the world."
Jealousy rolled around in my stomach, and I had to ask. "More then Burt Hummel?"
She didn't hesitate for even a second. "Of course I love you more then I love Burt Hummel. But I thought you liked him, too. Did something happen between the two of you?"
"No, I like him. I just wanted to be sure." We were both stalling for time, to avoid the question that we both knew I was going to ask.
"Finn, you will always come first to me, alright? I know it's tough, because it's been just you and I for so long, but you will always be my baby, and me dating Burt Hummel will not change that."
She was rocking us both in the chair, and I couldn't help but feel like I was five years old again and everything was great. Well, maybe it had only been great because I was so young. Looking back, I could remember wearing sweaters inside because Mom couldn't pay the heating bill, or sometimes her having to call Grandma and Grandpa and ask for a little loan for things like my Cub Scout fees and new clothes, but we had been happy. It had been me and her against the world. Now it was me against her, and I hated it.
"So why did he do it?" There it was, the question that I could never take back, no matter how terrible the answer was. "I mean, he had me and he had you, but it wasn't enough."
"No, you're right. You and I weren't enough for him." Her voice was tired, and I wondered how many nights she had sat up thinking that same thoughts. "Finn, I loved you father with all of my heart, but he was very..." She stopped there, looking like she didn't know what word to use. I understood, because I usually went through the same thing. Finally she sighed. "Why don't I tell you the entire story? The good parts, and the bad parts, and the parts that none of us can change. I never wanted to have to tell you all of this, but not wanting to is no excuse for not doing it. You're very nearly a grown man, and you deserve the truth."
That should have made me feel good, but all it was doing was making my breakfast want to come back up. But if I wussed out now, I might never have the opportunity again. "Ok. Tell me everything."
The rocking stopped for a minute, and I almost immediately wanted it back. Mom started to talk a few times, then cut herself off, then started again. "I already told you about meeting him, right?"
"Yeah. The flowers and the best friend and all of that."
"Right. When I met your father, I knew that he was an enlisted man, of course, but it didn't seem like that big of a deal. After all, there was no war on, and there didn't seem to be any conflicts in the making. It was just something he did one weekend a month. He never worried about it, so I didn't either. He was a lot like you, Finn."
There was a script we were playing out, and I dutifully did my part. "How?"
Her hand came to rest on my back, right between my shoulder blades. "It's not in either one of your natures to worry too much about the future. You just want every day to be the best that it can be, and everything else will eventually fall into place." I think she must have known that I was getting ready to say something, because she smiled. "It's not a bad thing, Finn. It would be nice if more people would quit trying to plan for the future and appreciate what they have today."
I liked the way she made it sound positive, instead of like I was nothing but a fuck-up. "But, I think about the future." Not much, but sometimes.
"So did he. But he didn't let what might happen in the future dictate the sort of choices he made for the day." There was a funny half smile on her face. It was the same face that Kurt made when he talked about his mother, which wasn't very often. That face means that you're happy and sad and lonely all at once.
Mom was quiet for a little while, and I took the time to pop open my soda and drink. I didn't really want it, but I needed something to do with my hands. "Christopher was so…God, Finn, he was smart and funny and sexy-" My head snapped up at that, and I have her a look. Yeah, I wanted to know more about Dad, but not if she wanted to say things like that. "She ruffled my hair. "Sorry, Finn, I got a little lost in the story."
"Almost every time we went out, it was something new with him. We went bowling, or whitewater rafting, or just hung out, but it was never the same thing twice. By our third date, I knew that he was the man I wanted to marry and spend the rest of my life with. Of course, he claimed that he had known on our first date, but your father was full of it most of the time."
Even though that sounded mean, I could tell that she meant it in a nice way. "So, did he ask you to marry him then?" I couldn't believe that I had never asked any of this before.
"No. What actually happened was that he got orders that he was shipping out for operation Desert Storm. Neither of us ever thought that it would actually happen, but life's funny sometimes."
It seemed to me that life was fucking mean a lot more often then it was funny. "How come you didn't get married then?"
"He didn't ask." She shifted and I wondered if I was too heavy after all. I mean, it's not like I'm a little kid, or even tiny like Quinn. But I'm pretty selfish sometimes, and I didn't want to get up. "I would have married him right then, no questions asked, even if it meant just going to the courthouse and having the JP do it."
"Well, why didn't you ask him?" It was ok for the girl to ask, right? Because, chicks, like, burned their bras and went through suffrage (which sounds horrible), so they could have equal rights, and being able to pop the question sounded like an equal right.
She laughed. "Maybe I should have. Even if he had been killed overseas, I would have still been his wife, for just a little while. But he didn't want to get married so soon. He wanted me to have a big white wedding, with bridesmaids and a church and all of the things a woman is supposed to want. He didn't understand that all I wanted was him."
We were getting closer and closer to what had really happened, and I could feel myself getting all tense. "How long was he gone?"
"11 months. 344 days, if you want to be exact. I wrote to him almost every day, even though I didn't have much going on. Work, some classes at the community college, spending time with friends. Not dating, though, I made it very clear to him that I would wait for him as long as it took."
"Then he came home. Almost as soon as he stepped off the plane, I knew he was different. But you know what they say about denial, don't you?"
Of course I did. "That it ain't just a river."
Yeah, gay boy, it ain't just a river. At least you finally made your way out of the closet.
I had never been in the closet. I still liked chicks, and I didn't like guys other then Kurt. Well, except for maybe Hugh Jackman, but that didn't even count. Everyone had a crush on Hugh Jackman, even Puck.
Mom kept on going, since she didn't have any idea that I was deep in mental debate with myself. "Right, it's not just a river. I kept making excuses for Christopher. He was jet lagged, he was tired, he needed a little time to settle back into a civilian life. The truth was, he had seen things, and done things, that no one should ever have to. He was hurting, and none of us had any idea how to help him. He ignored me totally for a few weeks, then tried to break it off, because he thought I was too good for him. I hadn't lost him to the war, but I was about to lose him to his own stubbornness."
This wasn't the story I had been expecting to hear at all. I guess this was what Kurt had meant when he said I should listen to her side of the story. "But you didn't break up, because, I mean, I'm here."
"Yes, and you're the best thing that could have possibly come out of our relationship." She kept saying that, like she was trying to make up for the fact that she had lied for so long. I hated to admit it, but it was kind of working.
"But back to the story. No, I didn't break up with your father, and that might be the only thing I did right." She sounded so sad that I had to put my arms around her and squeeze.
"Thank you, Finn, you're a good boy. I eventually got him to start talking to me, again, but it wasn't the same. He had become so withdrawn and angry; it was like he was a different person. Even when he was acting like he used to, it was different. He was almost…manic about it. Do you understand me?"
"No." I wanted to, because I knew that it was important, but I didn't.
She started rocking us again. "It's like…ok, say you have a scale of 1 to 10, with 1 being the calmest person you know, and 10 being-"
"Rachael?" I was starting to think that I got it.
Mom's met Rach a few times, so she started laughing. "Yeah, kind of like Rachael. Anyway, your father used to be a 7 on that scale. He was such a fun guy, but he was great about just relaxing around the house or snuggling, too"
Gross, why did she have to bring up snuggling? Still, it was nice to think about them being in love. I wanted to hear more of the story, but she had stalled out. "So, what happened then?"
"After he got back, he was either a 1 and wouldn't even get out of bed some days, or he was a 10, and decided spur of the moment that he was going to take me to Chicago or New York for a few days. One time he told me he knew someone who ran the arcade, and he got us in after hours to play all the games. I've never played pinball like that, let me tell you."
Ew! Finn, even you have to be smart enough to know what she's implying when she says that.
Yeah, I was, and I was trying to block the entire thing out of my mind because of general grossness. I tuned Quinn voice out and Mom back in.
"At first it was fun, then it was just scary. I never knew which Chris was going to pick me up, since it could change from minute to minute. He could get so angry with me for the littlest things, like me dropping something, or forgetting to close the door, and it was almost like he would change into a stranger, someone I couldn't trust. But then sometimes he'd be just like he had been before, and I loved him so much I could forgive the other times."
This was the part she hadn't wanted me to know, and since I had been such a baby and demanded that she tell it, I kind of guessed that I was stuck hearing it. "Did it get better?"
"No. He got more unpredictable, and less like Chris. I wanted him to go to a psychiatrist, but he wouldn't even consider it. It's terrible to admit, but I was afraid of him, Finn."
She was saying everything that I was afraid of hearing. There really might be something wrong with me. After all, he was my Dad, and had gotten his height and his dark hair and maybe his craziness, too. "What happened then?"
Her hand pressed gently into my spine. "Ok, Finn, you know how much I love you, but you need to get up now. I can't feel my legs any more."
"I tried to tell you that. I've weighed more then you for like 3 years now, and been taller for 5." I slid off her lap, even though I didn't want to. If I could stay in her lap, I could pretend that I was still little, and none of the bad or confusing things that had happened over the past two weeks were real.
Then you wouldn't have Kurt either. You would still think that you had gotten Quinn pregnant, and the only hand on that cock of yours would be your own. I know that some of the things that happened sucked, and you probably wish you didn't know about your Dad, but you have to take the bad with the good. Now man up and listen.
"Can I still sit with you on the couch?" My voice was pathetically small and I forced it to toughen up. "I mean, if it would make you feel better."
Mom sat down and I found a comfortable position, leaning against her side. "Are you sure you want to hear the rest? Maybe we've had enough for one day."
What she really meant was that she was about to say something really terrible, and she wanted to put it off for as long as possible. I didn't want her to stop, though. Better get it over with, like ripping off a band aid or something. "So, how did you get him to change? He did change, right? I mean I wouldn't want to stay with someone who treated me like that, even if I did love them."
Really? Because I seem to distinctly recall Quinn treating you like absolute shit, and you hanging around because you loved her. After all, you weren't hanging around because she was putting out.
God damn that voice was annoying. I ignored it though, and kept waiting for Mom to answer. She was looking like she wanted to cry, so I knew that things were bad. It felt like someone was ripping my heart out of my chest, but I forced the words past my choked up throat. "If you want to stop, we can."
She didn't act like she heard me. "He hit me."
Dude, not cool! You don't treat chicks like that!
For some reason Quinn-voice had turned into Puck-voice, and my head was starting to feel a little too crowded. Maybe the voice changed because Quinn didn't know anything about men hitting women, but I'm not 100% sure about that either. I've never met her father, but sometimes she seems a little scared of him. I was so busy trying to sort out the different voices and what they meant that it took me a few seconds to actually understand what they were saying.
When I did catch up, though, I actually did lose my breath. Dad had hit Mom? Dad, who was pretty much like Superman, at least to me? I had spent all of this time thinking that he was great, and it turned out he wasn't any better then Puck's father. I gulped for air until Mom thumped me in the back. "Finn, breathe."
I sucked in a whistling breath, like I had asthma or something, but at least I could breathe, which was an improvement over 30 seconds ago. "He hit you?"
"He hit me." And she sounds just like this is a surprise, even almost 20 years later. "Believe it or not, over a pork chop. The stupid thing had sat in the refrigerator for three days, and was on the verge of going bad, so I ate it for supper. Probably 20 minutes later, he came in and started looking for it. I told him that I had eaten it already and he just lost it. He used language I'd never heard from him before and he was just standing over me, screaming. I told him to get a grip, that it was just a pork chop, and he slapped me across the face. Just once, and it shocked me more then it hurt me, but once was more then enough. "
No way any of this was true. I had fallen through the rabbit hole or gone through a time warp or just plain gone nuts, but there was no way that my perfect father had hit my mother. No way in hell. But Mom was crying again, and I knew that it was real, no matter how much I wished that it wasn't. "What did you do?"
She sighed. "I hauled off and threw my plate at him, then ran out the door and to a neighbor's house. Then I called my best friend to come get me, because I was not going to stay with a man who had hit me, no matter how much I loved him. I had tried my best to help him, and if he wasn't going to accept that, too bad. I didn't want to be one of those women with broken bones and black eyes telling the paramedics that I had fallen down the stairs again. It killed me to leave Christopher, but, you have to understand, I had to."
"I get it." It wasn't even a lie. Hitting a girl was about the suckiest thing a guy could do, no matter what. Puck and I don't agree about a lot when it comes to girls, except about which ones have smokin' tits, but we do agree that you should never, ever, touch one in a mean way. I guess that we had one more thing to agree on now: both of our Dads were complete assholes.
"But, you went back to him. How could you go back to him after what he did?" I was getting that slippery feeling in my stomach, the one that said I already knew why they had gotten back together, and it wasn't a good thing.
This time when she smiled, it looked more like an actual smile and less like she wanted to start crying. "I found out I was pregnant with you. Everyone told me to give you up, but I love you so much already that I couldn't. I just knew you were going to be perfect, and you are. If I did nothing else right in my entire life, I kept you, and that's enough."
"So you gave him another chance, because of me?" Great, now I felt even worse. It was my fault that she had gone back to some guy who hit her. Nobody was who I thought they were, and it was starting to make me dizzy.
"Well, it wasn't quite like that. For a few days, I considered not telling him at all, and just raising you by myself. But that would have been cruel. When I told him, I let him know that he could choose to sign away all of his rights to you, or he could choose to raise you with me, but if he ever, ever, raised his hand to me again, I would throw him in jail and have his rights as a father terminated. I wasn't going to risk my own life, and I sure as hell wasn't going to risk yours."
"What did he say?" I wanted to know, but I didn't. This was it, the moment when I would find out if I had been as important to him as he had been to me.
"He cried. Begged me to take him back, swore he would change, that he would get help, do anything as long as I didn't take you away from him. He promised to do better, so he could be a good father to you."
Are you sure that you believe her, Finn? After all, you know she's lied to you before, why shouldn't she lie to you now, too? He probably hadn't cared that much, even if you were his kid. After all, Puck's dad doesn't give a shit about him.
"Really?" I hated the begging way the question came out, but I had to know the truth. "He wanted me that badly?"
"He wanted you more then anything else in the world. By the next day, he had an appointment with a therapist who specialized in cases like his, and he was at her office within the week. The doctor prescribed some medication that helped even out his mood swings, and Chris swore that he would keep going to see her as long as it took. He wanted get better, and he did."
She was really getting into the story now, and I couldn't stop staring at her while she told it. She looked different, not like she was my Mom, or anyone's Mom any more. She looked the way she did when she talked about Burt Hummel, like she was my age and getting ready to go on a date. "So, things were good? He didn't hit you again?"
"Things were perfect. We went to classes together, and he actually helped me decorate the nursery, and it seemed like all he could talk about were baby names. Only boy names though, because he was 100% sure that you were going to be a boy. We went in circles about it, because I wanted David or Isaac, and he insisted on Andrew or Tristan. Still, I don't know if I had ever been happier. I gave in eventually on the name, and we were planning to name you Andrew Isaac."
Andrew. Andy. Andy. Andrew. No matter how I tried the name out in my head, it didn't sound like me. I wasn't Andrew, I was Finn. I was too tall and I lived with just my Mom and I had a boyfriend named Kurt. Whoever Andrew was, he wouldn't have had any of those things.
"Why did you change it to Finn then, if it wasn't what either one of you wanted?" I was starting to get uncomfortable from being so tense, but I didn't let her know that. I was afraid that if she stopped now, we would never be able to talk about it again.
"Actually, we didn't change it to Finn until three days before you were born. Your father had gotten kind of strange and moody, like he was getting cold feet about it all. I was the size of an elephant, barely able to walk, with you kicking me in the kidneys or bladder every five minutes, and I didn't have a whole lot of patience with him, considering that he was the one who had gotten me into that situation in the first place. So I finally asked him what the issue was, and he told me that he really wanted to change your name, to honor two of the men he served with and who had died. Their names were Finnegan Sovine and Enzo Jacobs. You ought to be incredibly grateful that I drew the line at calling you Enzo."
"I am." What sort of stupid name of Enzo, anyway?
"I was kind of pissed with him, since I already had a bunch of stuff that had the name 'Andrew' on it, but it was obviously so important to him that I gave in. Plus, I thought Finnegan was such a cute name, especially when he started calling you Finn right away, even before you were born."
If things hadn't been so serious, they would have been super cool. I had never really thought about where my name came from. It was just my name, even if it was a pretty cool one. I liked the thought of my Dad picking it out, and the reason that he had.
"Anyway, there were some complications when you were born, the kind that I'm sure you don't want to hear about."
That was for damn sure. Sex might feel great (not that I would know) but it was really kind of gross. And having babies was even grosser. At least I wouldn't have to worry about knocking Kurt up and having to watch him give birth.
I think knocking Kurt up would require having sex with him first. Isn't that one of the lessons we took away from the whole Quinn debacle? That pregnancy requires sex, no matter what they might try to tell you. Also, that girls are horrible liars.
Now wasn't the time to think about sex. There would be plenty of time later to worry about tops and bottoms and special lube and all of the other confusing things that I had learned about on the internet. I forced myself to look up at Mom. "Yeah?"
"Yeah. I was on bed rest for almost a month, so Chris had to take care of you most of the time. I nursed you, but he did everything else. He sometimes got really nervous around loud noises, because of his PTSD, and I was worried that your crying would bother him, but he was just a natural at taking care of you."
I remembered those letters from the death certificate, but I didn't know what they meant. Luckily, this was Mom, and I could ask without feeling stupid. The only other person I could ask was Kurt, and I hadn't thought about it, or anything else, last night. "What's that?"
"PTSD?" I nodded, and she kept going. "It stands for Post Traumatic Stress disorder. War is terrible, Finn, and being there, not ever knowing if you're going to be shot, or kidnapped, or ever get home again. It makes your body constantly stressed out, nervous, jumpy, that it forgets how to not be that way. So, even after he came home and wasn't in any danger, he couldn't relax. Loud noises, sudden movements, they all made him feel like he was back over there in the desert. Does that make sense?"
It did and it didn't. I got her words, but I didn't understand how you could not know where you are. I mean, all you have to do is look around. Lima didn't look anything like Iraq, because we had snow and everything.
Think about it again, Finn. You freak out every time someone yells at you, because of what Seth did. I don't think Kurt looks anything like Seth, but you still got them confused, didn't you?
Suddenly, it did make sense. "Yeah, I understand."
"We didn't have a whole lot of money, but he was going to school through the veteran's bill. He always said that he wanted you to grow up and be proud of him, and he thought getting an education was important. Once he graduated community college, we were going to move closer to his parents, so you would have more family around. It might sound silly to you, but all we wanted was the American dream: a house, a few kids, and our family."
It didn't sound silly to me at all. I mean, being rich would be all kinds of awesome, but I supposed having a normal life with two kids, or maybe three, and enough money to be happy was pretty great, too. "I think it sounds pretty cool. I didn't know you wanted more kids."
"Well, it didn't seem like it was going to happen, so I didn't bring it up. But, yes, Chris and I wanted more then one. I'm an only, and I always wanted some playmates."
I had always wanted a brother or sister, too, but it seemed kind of mean to bring that up. "It's ok, I haven't been that lonely. I mean, I have Puck, and now Kurt's kind of like family, too, right?"
She gave me that 'cut the bullshit' look that she always gave me when she knew I was being stupid on purpose. "We'll have a little talk about you and Kurt later. But yes, I suppose you could look at it like that."
"You were such a good baby. I know I tell you that all the time, but you were. All the other mothers wanted their babies to be just like you. You were just the smiliest little guy, and a people person, even then. You loved your father and I the best, of course, but you would let anyone hold you. Just perfect."
I really liked it when she talked about me like that. Like having just me was enough of a family for her, even though I knew that I wasn't. "So how did it all get bad?"
She was quiet for so long that I thought she wasn't going to say anything at all. I wanted to say something, just so she would know that it was ok, that I wasn't mad anymore, that I just wanted to know, but I couldn't make the words come out. I just kept staring at her, hoping she would get the message. I'm sure that I looked like a stupid little puppy, but I had to know.
Finally, after what seemed like forever, but was probably only a minute or two, she shook her head. "It must have started a little bit after you turned one. He started to get moody again, more snappish. This time I wasn't in denial, though, and I told him he either went back to the therapists or I was leaving and taking you with me."
Damn, Mom was tough. I guessed I knew that, though. After all, she had managed to raise me for 15 years with absolutely no help, and I think I turned out pretty well. "Did you leave?"
"No, not that time. He was so afraid of losing us, especially you, that he was back at the doctors that week. They adjusted his medication, and that should have been the end of it. Only it wasn't."
"How come?" Even though I knew how this story ended, I couldn't help but feel like it might be different if I wished for it hard enough.
"Well, there's a strange side effect with certain antidepressants. Even though they're supposed to make you feel less depressed, sometimes they make you more depressed and even suicidal."
Weird. "Why do people take them then, if they don't work?"
"They do work, most of the time. Unfortunately, your father was incredibly smart, and very good at hiding the problems he was having from me. I was distracted, between work and taking care of you, and since he wasn't being aggressive, I let it slide more then I should have. If there's one thing in my life that I will never forgive myself for, that's it."
That was probably my cue to tell her that it wasn't her fault, that I didn't blame her and that she shouldn't blame herself, but my throat was stuck closed. All I could do was stare at her and wait for this to come to the end.
"The day that it happened-"She stopped there, and I felt her take a deep breath. "No, I have to be able to say it. The day that your father committed suicide, it was the end of a really long week for all of us. You had a bad cold, and your father and I had both had the flu. The house was in absolute shambles, and I just couldn't bring myself to care about it. I was better, but Chris was still running a fever, so I was going to go out and pick up some groceries and medicine. I thought that he might like a chance to rest, so I told him that I would take you with me, even though you were still coughing and really fussy."
She broke off and I knew that she was crying again. "He didn't want me to take you. He looked right at me and said 'No, Car, leave the kid with me.' That's what he always called you, 'the kid', like we were in an old western. I thought he was just being nice, because I really didn't want to have to shop with a screaming toddler in tow. I swear, Finn, if I had had even the tiniest idea of what he was going to do, I would have never left that day."
I would have never thought she would, not in a million years. Not even if, like, the grocery store was burning down and we would all starve to death if she didn't. But I knew what she was really saying. I might not understand the quadratic formula, or how to speak Spanish, but I do get people. Mom was telling me a story, but she was also asking me for forgiveness, and I understood that on a deeper level then I understood most things. "I know you wouldn't have."
When I looked at her this time she looked….old. I mean, she's always old, because she's a mom, but she was still pretty. Now she didn't look pretty at all. She looked tired and old and used up. I head butted her shoulder as gently as I could. "I know you did everything you could."
She smiled, but it was a fake one. "I swear I wasn't gone for more then an hour and a half. I came home with a few bags of groceries, and-" She swallowed hard. "The house looked the same. I mean, you would have thought that it would be changed in some way. But I got in the front door, and I could just hear you screaming at the top of your lungs. Not a little fussy cry, flat out screaming. I was so pissed off with your father for that. If I could hear you from the front door, he should have been able to hear it. Even if he was asleep, well, you've always had a set of lungs on you. So I stood there and yelled. "Christopher, can you not hear your son? You told me to leave him with you, and you aren't taking care of him.'. My husband was lying dead upstairs, and here I was, yelling at him. What kind of wife and mother was I?"
Luckily, that was something I could answer. "The best sort. I love you and I wouldn't want anyone else to be my Mom. Dad wouldn't have wanted anyone else to be his wife, I'm sure." I didn't know how I was so sure, but I was.
"Thank you, Finn. So I stormed up the stairs, ready to just give him hell, and I saw…" She stopped, and I felt like I was going to throw up. Did I want her to keep going, or not?
Of course you do, you fucking moron. What wonderful, normal, 16 year old boy wouldn't want to hear the details about what his father's death scene looked like?
Mom couldn't possibly know that I was having a debate with myself, but she must not have wanted to think about it either, because she skipped the gory details. Good thing, because I didn't want to hear it. "When I came upstairs and realized what had happened, I just grabbed you out of the crib and ran to the neighbors. After that…well, I honestly don't remember what happened after that, it's all kind of a blur. But Chris was gone, and you were all I had left. We moved right after, because I never wanted to go in that house again, and somehow we ended up here, in Lima."
My head was pounding, probably because it was too full. Dad was great, but he had hit Mom, but it was because he was sick, and he had been a really great father to me, but he had shot himself right in front of me, but…" I stopped there, because I was completely confused. "But why did you lie about it?"
"I don't know. At first, when you started asking why you didn't have a Dad, I just told you that he had died and gone to Heaven, and that satisfied you. Then you were suddenly old enough to start looking at pictures and you saw your father in his uniform, so I told you that he was a soldier who was very brave and fought in Iraq. The next thing I knew, you were telling people that your father was a brave soldier who died in Iraq and went to Heaven and I just didn't know how to correct you. It just…well, I guess it was easier for me to pretend that your version of things was the truth. Less painful for both of us. I never thought that it would go on for as long as it did."
"But…" I was out of words. I had never been that good at arguing in the first place, and now I was stuck. To my horror, I felt those stupid, babyish tears welling up in my eyes. "But…"
Oh, man up, Finn. You wanted the truth and you got it from her. Just because it wasn't what you wanted to hear, you don't have any excuse to start crying. After all, she's the one who had to see it all; you were too damn little to remember any of it. You had 16 good years of thinking that your father was this great guy before you found out the truth, and that's a lot more then some people ever get. So she lied to you, big deal. Everyone lies to you, Finn. Your Mom, me, Puck, shit, even Kurt's probably doing it. It's not your fault that you're so stupid, but it sure makes it easy to not tell you the truth.
Kurt wasn't lying to me, was he? I mean, I would know if he wasn't telling me the truth.
Of course you would, darling. After all, you've done such a good job of knowing when other people are.
Suddenly tears were streaking down my face, even though I wasn't sure what exactly I was crying about. Maybe it was just that I was tired and feeling sick and there was no one left for me to rely on. Mom tightened her arms around me, but didn't say anything, because, really? There wasn't anything left for us to say. I didn't want her to think I hated her though; she was my mother after all, so I buried my face in her neck to block out the noises I was making.
"I'm sorry, Finn. I'm so, so, so, so, sorry. I was wrong to lie in the first place, and I was wrong not to tell you the truth later. I just…I'm sorry, baby."
I knew that. And, considering the amount of time I spend fucking up and needing someone else to forgive me, you would think that I would be better at forgiveness when it was my turn, but I'm not. I guess I'm just not that good of a person. So I don't tell her that I forgive her, because I don't, but I do want her to know that I still love her, and I will forgive her, as soon as I find the strength.
My cell phone was ringing in the other room, and I knew that it was Kurt, calling to check that I was alright. I wasn't, but I would probably tell him that I was. You know, so he doesn't worry about me and all. I really think I freaked him out last night, but I was kind of freaking my self out, too. I had felt like I was going crazy, and Kurt was the only one who was exactly who he seemed to be. Even Puck, who I was supposed to hate, had turned out to be a really good guy in the end. It was all too confusing, and I just wanted someone else to make the decision for me.
Yeah, because that worked out so well last time. Face it, moron, you're almost 17 years old, which is pretty close to being an adult. You need to grow and up and start making your own decisions. Starting with telling your mother that you love her, because that's the truth and you can't say anything else because you're a shitty liar.
That was a really good idea, possibly the best I had had in the past few days, even if it did come from bitchy Quinn. "I love you Mom."
"I love you, too."
I would have given absolutely anything to be a little kid again, so I could just believe her, instead of worrying that everything she said was a lie. Her fingers ran lightly through my hair, and I leaned into the contact. "Is there anything you want to ask me, Finn? Anything at all?"
There were a million things I wanted to ask, but I couldn't. I just didn't have the strength to ask and find out that she had lied about something else. So I shook my head and leaned harder against Mom. She wrapped an arm around me, which made me feel a little safer, but not much. I still loved her more then I loved anyone in the world, but things were different now. I guess maybe that's what growing up is about, which sucks donkey balls. "I'm kind of tired; can I just go upstairs and play some video games?"
"Sure. What do you want for dinner?" It's really cool that Mom knows when I want her to hang around even when I say I don't, and when I really do want my space.
"Whatever." I wasn't feeling hungry at all, which might be a first for me.
"I'll figure something out."
I knew that that meant that she would go out of her way to make something she knew I would like, just so I would feel better. It would have probably been nice if I told her that she didn't have to, but I was about all out of nice today. I wanted to be rude, and ugly, and say all the things that I would have usually bitten down on. Except I didn't want to do that. Only I did. Maybe I didn't. I just wasn't sure any more. So instead of acting like a moron and saying something really dumb, I went upstairs and laid down on the bed. I wasn't tired enough to sleep, or hungry enough to eat, and, for once, I didn't feel like playing video games. I was just...done.
My phone rang from somewhere in the pile of dirty clothes by the bed, but I didn't even look at it. It was Kurt, I was sure it was, but I didn't want to talk to him either right now. I wanted to be left alone. Maybe that made me mean and selfish, but when you considered that everyone else had been that way to me first, maybe it was my turn. But I know myself, and if I'm mean to one person, I'll lose my temper and be mean to everyone, and Kurt was the last person I wanted to be mean to. So I let the phone go to voicemail. I would call him later, when I felt less like my head was going to explode.
I wrapped my arms around myself in a kind of hug, just holding still. I wanted my old teddy bear that had finally fallen apart, or my blanket, which Quinn still had for they baby, which wasn't mine anyway. So I just laid there, and looked at the Cowboys on the wall and wondered what it would be like to be one of them. I mean, in all of the cowboy movies, all you had to do to get revenge was march into the saloon (that's like a bar, in case you didn't know. Only it has women with lots of cleavage, so it's better then a regular bar.) and loudly say 'I'm lookin' for the man who shot my paw.' Only the man who shot my paw was my paw and that was something John Wayne never had to deal with.
I didn't think that I was tired, but I guess I was, because I kept falling asleep and waking up, falling asleep and waking up. Everything was confused in my dreams, and I kept having nightmares where I lost everyone, Mom, Kurt, even Mr. Hummel, and I couldn't find them. Once when I woke up, Mom was sitting by the bed, rubbing my back, so I must have been making a lot of noise. I wasn't ready to forgive her, but my dreams were making me afraid of losing her, so I reached out and held on to her hand. It was smaller then mine now, and, for some stupid reason, that made me want to cry even more.
By the time I finally woke up for real, it was almost 7, and the house smelled really, really good. It was the sort of smell that meant Mom was making steak in the crock pot, which is all kinds of awesome. My eyes were still all scratchy and I felt really hot, but I always got that way after a nap, so I rolled to my feet and headed downstairs.
The crock pot was on and bubbling and the table was set for two places, but Mom wasn't there. I cocked my head, trying to think, and heard the Jeopardy theme from the living room. I love Jeopardy, even though I never have the right answer. It's just fun to make stuff up so Mom will laugh.
Sure enough, there she was, sitting in Dad's old chair. I guess I'm not the only one who does that to be close to him. She looked up when I came in, and I could tell that she had been crying again. I was tired of telling her that I loved her, and I didn't want to lie and tell her that I forgave her. So I climbed up to sit on the arm of the chair and laid my head on her shoulder. She touched my back and I sighed softly. "Yeah."
Mom nodded. "Yeah."