Assassin's Creed (c) Ubisoft

The house felt strangely empty Sunday night after Ziio and her family left. Haytham had gotten use to Ziio, her mother and grandmother, shouting loudly in Mohawk to one another. Ziio's "translations" of whatever her grandmother said and her grandmother always chiding her about it. He still couldn't believe Ziio's grandmother could speak English. He'll to ask Ziio about that tomorrow during recess… or maybe not. He had a funny feeling she'd deny everything about this weekend if he questioned her.

The couch sagged and Haytham looked at up at his father sat down, with two mugs in his hands. "Here," Edward said, before putting his feet up on the table and turning on the TV. It was one of those reality TV shows about fishermen that his father liked to watch. Haytham looked at the contents of his mug, a smile spreading across his lips.

"What's the occasion?" Haytham asked, blowing gently on his hot chocolate. "You put marshmallows in it."

"No reason," Edward said with a shrug. "I've could've made it an extra special batch, but we need to wait a bit longer until then." Edward gave his son and wink, and Haytham wondered what his father meant about making hot chocolate extra special. The inclusion of marshmallows already made it special, everyone knew that. Haytham took a sip of the hot chocolate, sighing in contentment as he leaned up against his father. "You should thank your friend for all she's done for us this weekend."

"I will," Haytham said.

"Maybe give her a nice card," Edward said. Haytham flushed. "I'm serious son, a woman like that is precious and rare."

"Father, I'm seven," Haytham sighed.

"Seven," Edward mumbled, mulling the number about in his brain. "Are you really seven?"

"Yeah," Haytham said, he sipped his coco. "Why?"

"I can't believe it's been six years," Edward muttered, looking at his coco. "There's so much I wanted to tell her."

"Tell who?" Haytham asked, though he already had a good idea who it was.

"Your mother."

"Mother?" Haytham whispered, his father never spoke about his mother. It was a taboo subject even his aunts and uncles avoided. Haytham never understood why, though and he longed to learn more about the mother he didn't even remember. The only pictures of her in the house were all located in his father's bedroom, in a box beneath the bed, gathering dust. Whatever the emotional ties his parents shared must've been too painful for his father to remember and thus hid all reminders. "Did… Father?"

"Hm?"

"How did Mother die?" Haytham looked at the floating melting marshmallows in his coco. "Was it because of me? Did I cause Mother to die? Is that why you don't talk about her?"

"What? No, no, no! Your mother didn't die like that," Edward said, shifting to look at his son. "No, she died in a freak accident… accident isn't really want I'd call it, but it was freak and unexpected."

"Oh, I just thought that sometimes… maybe…" Haytham couldn't say it. If he said it, it would make it real and then there'll always be that wriggling doubt in his heart.

"I don't hate you," Edward said, pressing a kiss to his son's forehead. "Haytham, I love you more than anything in the world. Without you… well, lots of things would've been different." Edward muttered and took a sip from his coco. I would've put the bottle to my temple and pulled the trigger long ago if it weren't for you Haytham.

"I wish you'd talk about Mother more," Haytham whispered. Edward looked at his son, surprise clearly written on his face.

"Really?" he asked.

"Yeah," Haytham breathed, sipping his coco. "I don't know anything about my mother and… sometimes I miss her, but it's like missing a ghost. It's not really there. I know she's gone but… maybe she's watching over us."

"Haytham…"

"Do you think she is? Do you think she's happy with how we're doing? Do you think she smiles when I get a hundred on my spelling tests? Sometimes when I'm scared, I feel a presence… like an invisible blanket that wraps me up and holds me tightly. Do you think that's Mother? Do you think she's still with us somehow?"

"Of course I do," Edward whispered, not trusting himself to speak. He rubbed at his eyes, before looking at Haytham. It baffled him that he never realized that Haytham lost a mother that day too. Tessa was more than just a wife; she was a mother. A young mother, but a mother all the same. Her son had a right to know about her. "Your mother's name was Tessa, and you have her eyes and hair, and her smile." Edward said, pulling Haytham close. "She loved to smile and bake, she made so many brownies and cookies when she was pregnant with you."

"Really?" Haytham asked, slowly building a mental image of his mother.

"Yes. She loved to laugh and hated surprised, but I surprised her anyway. She'd take you to the park on sunny days, put whip cream on your nose and color with you. She'd read you bed time stories until you fell asleep."

"What else?" Haytham asked, smiling though he felt tears prick his eyes.

"Well, I remember this one time, you were around nine months old and got really sick, we rushed you to the hospital. Your mother was in a state and she could hardly sit still and didn't sleep for an entire day until the doctor told her you'd be just fine. She then collapsed into my arms crying and thanking god you were going to be okay," Edward sighed, "you were entire world. Her precious little boy, her sweet angel. She would've given up her life if it meant you'd be safe."

"I miss her," Haytham whispered. "I wish I could remember her."

"She always sang you a lullaby, even if you were dead asleep, she'd sing it to you. Said it kept the boogie man away," Edward said.

"Oh?" Haytham asked, and took a swallow of his coco. It had cooled immensely since his father started talking about his mother.

"You are my Sunshine," Edward said. Haytham's eyes widened.

"I remember… well, not really, but I always liked the melody," Haytham whispered.

"You know, I think I may have," Edward said, digging out his phone, "a video of her holding you." He looked through his phone, tapping the code to unlock the video sets of the time before Tessa's death. "Yep, here, watch this," Edward said, handing his son the phone. Haytham set his mug on the table and cradled his father's phone in his small hands. He touched the play button.

The image came to life, his mother with her long brown hair in a braid and wearing a black turtleneck, holding him safely in her arms. "Ted, turn that off, you'll wake him," Tessa chided, Haytham felt his throat catch. He never heard his mother's voice before.

"He's asleep Tessa. Dead to the world, it's not going to bother him," Edward replied. Tessa glared at him before rolling her eyes and kissing her baby son and began to hum.

"You are my sunshine, my only sunshine, you make me happy when skies grey. You'll never know dear, how much I love you. So please, don't take my sunshine away." Tessa sang softly, giving her son another kiss on the forehead. "Mommy loves you, Haytham."

When Haytham got home from school the next day, he noticed the atmosphere of the house had changed. He never noticed it before, but there must've been a black gloom about the place since his mother died, now there was a new vibrancy about everything, as if spring had finally come after a harsh and cold winter.

He opened the door, surprised to see the box filled with pictures of his mother out in the living room and his father hanging up the pictures that had once been hidden away. Edward smiled. "Hey, sea urchin," Edward said, "how was school?"

"It was good," Haytham said, glancing quickly at his father, "it was good." He touched the glass of his picture. It was his parents and him, barely a few days old, wrapped in a blue blanket. Haytham wiped the tears away, yet he smiled for his mother was smiling so broadly in the picture that he couldn't help but feel happy. "I'm home Mother," he whispered, "school was okay."

I saw an image of Edward and Haytham sharing a cup of coco. It was actually grown Haytham staring into a tea cup thinking back on his childhood. And this happened. Enjoy. Cry, I know you'll cry. I cried too.

Tomorrow we'll get back to the regular schedule humor.

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-Nemo