Chapter 19 - Laura
I caught up to Michael by the park, panting out of breath. I grabbed one of the benches, and Michael sat on a swing. He was rubbing his shoes in the sand, his eyes glued to the ground.
I took a couple of deep breaths before pulling myself together and starting towards the swing.
"Michael, you do not run off like that," I said, making sure my voice came out with authority.
He looked up at me, and I could see his mind twirling around with questions.
I took a few more steps towards him. "Michael, talk to me. Tell me, what's going through your mind?"
He scowled. "Maybe I am talking to you, and you just can't hear me." He gave me a look, meaning to hurt me.
It was a stab, and it hurt. I crossed my arms. "I can talk through my head, too, you know."
Michael made a face. "You can't hear me though."
"And you won't hear me," I said. "Which is why we speak. If you are angry, you tell me. You do not get to run off. We speak to each other."
Michael looked away, falling silent for a moment. He then swung a little. "He's not my dad."
I frowned. I had thought the moment was right. I didn't realize that Michael would be angry. All he'd ever seemed to want lately was a father. I figured he would be excited to know who Miles really was.
"I should have worded it differently," I explained. "I guess I picked a bad time to tell you."
"He's not my father, he's not my papa, and he isn't my dad." Michael quickly counters. "He's no one."
I rubbed my hands together. "Michael, he is, though. He is your dad."
"He's not," Michael snapped. "Quit saying he is! He isn't. Dads don't leave their kids behind."
I swallowed, softening my words. "Michael, he didn't leave you behind."
"He did." Michael snapped. "It's always just been us. He was never around. Not in a single picture. I know what dads do. I know they are supposed to be around." Michael shook his head. "If he wanted to be around, he would have been."
I was backed into a corner, and I knew that no matter what I said, it wouldn't help the situation. "Sometimes…. it's not that simple."
Michael glared. "Then explain it, mom. Why wasn't he around?"
I thought about when Michael was born. I remember that fear that I was never going to be good enough, that maybe I should have told Miles.
"I never told him about you," I admit.
Michael's face shifted, and he looked shocked. But he shook his head. "I don't believe you."
"Michael, I wouldn't lie."
"Maybe you would," he said, his fingers tightening around the chain of the swing. "You never told me I was a shifter until a while ago. You said we would be moving here and that you knew no one here, yet you knew him. Maybe you do lie."
"Michael, I would not lie to you, " I said, hardening my words. I didn't know he was even here. And I didn't learn about your shifter side until a little before I told you, and the only reason I didn't tell you right away was because I didn't know how."
Michael pulled himself up. "I want to go home."
My shoulders sank, and I sighed. "We can go home and…"
"No," he shook his head. "I want to go back to Nevada. Things were simple."
I didn't know what to say. Michael pulled himself off the swing. "I don't want to be here anymore." He turned and walked towards where the car was parked.
The drive home was quiet, and I tried to think of what to say and how to calm the mess, but nothing came to mind. I looked at Michael in the rearview mirror, and he was looking outside the window. He refused to even look at me.
"I should have told you soon," I said softly.
He looked up at me for a moment before he looked away again. He crossed his arms, his lips forming a line.
I wet my lips. "And I'm sorry. If I had spoken about him, you wouldn't feel this. You wouldn't think he abandoned us."
"I feel this because he did," Michael snapped back, his eyes darkening. "Nothing you say is going to change that."
I looked back at the street. "Michael, I want you to have a dad."
The car remained quiet for a second before he spoke. "Why?"
I shrugged. "Because everyone deserves to have a dad. They do everything a mom can't." My mind traveled back to all his shifting signs. If Miles had been around, I would have known he was a shifter a lot sooner than I had. I'd spent endless nights worried about his health and concerned I was doing something wrong.
"There are things he is going to understand better than I will," I stated.
"You've always done everything. I don't need a dad when I have you."
I felt a twist in my heart. I looked back up at him in the mirror. "And what if I can't do everything anymore?"
Michael looked away, not seeming to have an answer for me.
We parked at the house, and Michael quickly hurried out of the car. I grabbed my purse, hurrying after him.
"Michael, I want to talk with you about this more."
"I don't," he said, heading up the stairs.
I crossed my arms. "Michael! If you go up those steps, you are grounded."
He paused and turned back to me. But as soon as I saw his expression, my anger faded. I could see confusion and anger simmering in his eyes.
His hands curled into fists. "You always told me if I have nothing to say, I shouldn't say anything at all."
I took a couple of steps towards him. "Yes, but not with me. I need you to speak with me even if you're mad."
He crossed his arms. "I'd rather be grounded than speak with you right now." With that, he turned and stormed up his steps. I heard the door slam, and tears built up.
I took a deep breath through my nose, and I could feel the tears breaking free. I quickly wiped at them, hating myself.
All I could wonder was how I landed here, how we got into this mess, and how I wanted to give Michael a better life. I’d made a mess of everything.
I looked towards the stairs and was tempted to go upstairs and try talking to him again, but I felt it was wrong. It was clear Michael needed space to think and process his emotions. I just threw this at him without any warning.
I then grew angry about everything—angry that Miles ended things and angry that I never told him. I was furious that Michael was acting out and outraged that Miles had yelled at me. But as quickly as the anger set in, it slipped out, and the hurt settled back in.
I thought of Mile’s words and how his folks would never accept him. I suddenly realized why he behaved as he did, why we never took trips to see his family, and why he never spoke of them. I realized why he never shared stories or invited me to go see his family.
I scowled, angry at myself that I jipped him of so much. I took time away from him with Michael, and he would never get it back. Tears fell more, and I tried wiping them away.
It was easier to hate him when I thought he was an asshole, but it was hard when I knew that maybe that wasn’t entirely what happened.
I thought back to our breakup, and when I looked back at him, I had thought he looked heartless, but now that I thought about it, maybe I mistook the look when he was feeling hurt.