I stand at the gate to the palatial looking house, wondering how I ever considered this place home. As I enter the front door it feels like entering one of the great museums filled with many treasures yet cold and empty at the same time, which fits my mood perfectly.

I turn to shut the door behind me, and I hear her voice. "Alex?" I turn to see my mother standing in the foyer. Her appearance shocks me. I've been away for only four years, but she looks as if she's aged ten. What the hell happened to her?

"Oh God, it really is you!" She didn't rush to hug me. Instead, she crumples to her knees.

I drop my duffle. "Mom!" I lift her up in my arms. She's so thin it feels like I'm lifting a small child. I carry her to the next room and place her on the sofa. She grabs a hold of my wrist when I make a move to step back. She is deceptively strong for a woman so frail.

"Please don't go!"

"I'm just going to get you something to drink. I'll be right back." She reluctantly lets me go and I return with a glass of water.

"Thank you!" She takes it from me and I take a seat across from her. I can't get over her transformation. She always looked so young and vibrant. People used to joke about her being one of my father's children. Now her hair is grey, her face is creased with worry lines so deep that even if she were to relax, I doubt they'd go away. The dark circles under her eyes make them look hollow, and she has become so thin her clothes hang on her like drapery upon a rod.

"What happened to you?" The words came out before I have the chance to think them through. My system, too shaken by seeing my mother look like a walking corpse.

She refuses to look at me. She plays with the cup of water in her hand, removing the sweat on the side of the glass with her thumb. "It has been a long time, Alex. You've changed quite a bit too since I had last seen you."

I imagine I have. I was a tall, thin, awkward youth, but now I'm all grown up with a body of a man, built from all my training and dancing over the years. Back then, I could have never lifted her so easily.

"I grew up." I gave as my excuse.

She still refuses to look at me. I see her worrying her bottom lip. Trying, I'm guessing, to keep from crying. Crying isn't allowed in this household. Never was, and I see her struggle against her training. All those years of bottled up emotions have taken their toll on her. Never was she allowed to show any outward display of emotions like anger or sadness. Never did she raise her voice or cry. Always was she the personification of decorum. It frustrates the hell out of me.

"Jesus!" I yell. Standing up, I pace the floor. Just being in this house makes my skin crawl. I half wonder if it isn't too late to get a hotel.

"Alexander James," my mother admonishes, "you know better than to take the Lord's name in vain."

I want to laugh. Of course, this lights the fire under her, brings some life back into that skeletal form of hers, forcing her to make eye contact with me.

"Sit down," she demands.

Autopilot kicks in to comply, guided by the motherly tone of voice until reason took over.

"No, mother. I won't sit down. I will YELL if I want to," I say, raising my voice to say the word with meaning. "His tyranny is OVER. You want to cry for God's sake cry. Cry until you can't weep another tear. Anything is better than living this life devoid of any emotion. The bastard is dead, he can't hurt you anymore."

My mother shot up like a spring from the sofa, anger blazed in her eyes, her hand flew on its own and she struck my face with her open palm.

"He is your Father! And you will speak of him with respect or you are not to speak of him at all!"

My face stung from where she struck me. My mother has never hit me, not once in my entire life. I'm unsure if I want to laugh or cry at her outburst. I rub my cheek and make my decision. 

"Then not at all, it is then. I will help you with the arrangements, but when this is over, I'm done. I will have paid my respects, not that they're deserved, and I walk out that door, never to return. Am I clear?"

My mother wraps her arms around her body in a protective hug. She looks away from me, but says, "It's funny how you despise him so, yet you sound so much like him."

I feel my anger rise. I want to reach over to her. Shake her, demanding that she take it back. But as I made the deal not to talk about my father, I walk away. I pick up my duffle and head up the stairs to my old room.

I hate this place. There isn't a hallway, a room, a corner, and an inch of this place that doesn't echo with misery. I open the door to my room and all of my things are gone. Of course they were. I was gone, so what would be the point of keeping any memory of me in this place. 

It is like stepping into a freshly made hotel room, nice to look at but not a damn thing personal or homey about it. It suited me just fine. I sit on the bed and put my duffle beside me. Unzipping it, I pull out the stuffed kitten. I look at my phone. There are no messages, no calls. If Cat read the letter at all, she obviously decided to leave things as they are. I am no longer a part of her life.

I lie upon the bed, too exhausted to keep going. I press the button and listen to Peanut's heartbeat. I feel the hot trace of tears that escape my eyes. I won't get to see that child born. I won't get to see them grow up. I've been kicked out of that family just like I was this one. I have no place to belong to. Thankfully, I didn't have long to ponder this revelation before sleep overtook me.

I am back here again. My brain recognizes that it's just a dream, but my body reacts to the environment like it's real. It was real, once. I don't want to walk down that alley. I know what awaits me there. I don't want to see that scene again. To see my brother beaten and broken, but my legs carry me to him regardless of what I don't want.

I shut my eyes tight, desperate not to give life to this nightmare again. I try to fight it but I can't and helplessly I succumb to the memory, living it out, moment by moment. Until I can't take the torment of this hell any longer and I scream.

"Alex! Alex!"

Sweat is pouring off of me. The sheet covering the bed tangles my legs. My mother is standing their looking frightened. I slowly sit up and try to detangle myself.

"You were screaming," my mother informs me. 

My struggling finally sets me free.

"Yeah, it happens," I state blandly. I see the stuffed cat on the floor and reach to put it back on the bed. I knocked it and my bag to the floor, with all my thrashing about. I pick up my bag and my mother reaches down and picks up a picture that has fallen out of it. It's a picture of me and Cat.

"Who is she?" My mother asks, I take the picture from her hand and place it face down on the bedside table. "No one to concern yourself with."

She winces, and I can tell I once again hurt her with my words. I immediately relent. "I'm sorry, Mom. I shouldn't have spoken to you as I had earlier. This place, my memories of it... there is so much anger, but I'm angry with him, not you. I shouldn't take it out on you."

I sit back on the bed, and my mom gives me a sad smile and joins me. "If you were mad at me I couldn't blame you," she says picking up the stuffed kitten and playing with its fur. "A gift from her?" My mom asks, trying gently to probe into my life again.

I sigh, taking the kitten from her and putting it back on the bed. "For her."

"Oh," My mother nods in understanding. "Is the breakup... recent?"

I look over at her, and she is staring at the turned over picture. I wonder how she knew just by those two words that we broke up. She looks at me and smiles slightly. "A mother's intuition," she offers.

"Ah." I stand up, still feeling confined, needing to move. "If you don't mind, I really don't want to talk about it?"

She just nods her head in understanding. "Are you hungry? I can make you something. Unless you prefer to go out to eat?"

It again it strikes me how wasted away she appears. "Mom, when was the last time you had a decent meal?"

She tugs at the sleeve of her blouse and tucks her hair behind her ear, and shrugs. "I eat when I'm hungry, but I have little appetite these days, so I've lost some weight." She smooths out her skirt, obviously feeling self-conscious about her appearance.

I held my hand out to her. "Come on. How about I make you something instead?"

She smiles at me, and it takes years away from her appearance. "Thank you. I would like that."

I help her to her feet, and we walk together to the kitchen. I take inventory. There wasn't much to play with, but I manage a salad with tomatoes, cucumbers, and tuna. I mix some spicy mustard with some mayo for dressing. I lay a plate before her and a glass of water before grabbing my own and joining her at the kitchen island.

She takes a bite and immediately takes another. "This is good. I'm glad to see my cooking skills weren't lost on you."

I grin, thinking of the times my mom and I would spend in this kitchen together. I guess this is the one place in the house that still held some happy memories. Even though my parents always had staff to cook and clean the house, my mom would take the time to teach us to cook things. Aiden was never really interested in learning, but me... I relished those moments with her.

"I learned from the best, and it beats living off of microwaved noodles throughout college."

"Are you graduating this year?"

It is a strange question coming from my mother, and it strikes me again just how little she knows about me. "Yeah, I will. I have my bachelor's degree in Photo Journalism and Media law."

Her eyes widen. "Photo Journalism... you mean you are no longer a business major?"

I couldn't help but wonder why she seems so distressed by this news. "No, I changed majors after what happened to... to Aiden."

My mother's expression completely changes after I say his name. She pushes her plate away. "Thank you for the meal. I'm feeling a bit tired myself. I think I'll go lay down for a while." And with that, she rose and left the room.

This is going to be a long couple of days. I would like to repair my relationship with my mother, but I'm not sure it's possible. There's not a divide but a cavern between us I doubt I can fill.

My phone rings and it's William, I answer. "Hey. So do you have time to talk?" he asks.

"Yeah, what's up?"

"It's about Cat."

My stomach lurches. "Is she okay? She's not in the hospital again, is she?!"

"No, No! Nothing like that! Sorry, I didn't mean to alarm you. No, it's a good thing, actually."

Now that the panic ebbed, he has me curious. "Good thing?"

"Yeah, Cat... she read your letter."

"She did!" My heart is racing. "What did she say?"

"She wants to see you."

"She does?!" Oh my God, we might not be over... "What about Liam?"

"She trying to handle that, it's the only reason she's not with you right now. I suggested it. I didn't think it would look good if you both disappeared off campus at the same time."

I couldn't help but feel angry... My chance to see Cat, to talk to her, to hold her. I push it aside, "No, you're right. Liam would have turned that against her."

I hear William breathe a sigh of relief. "Good, I was hoping I did the right thing. I didn't tell her the details about why you left, just that you had a family emergency. I ... didn't think it was my place to say."

"I'll tell her. Thank you, William. I'll call her right now. You're the best."

"What are brothers for?" There is a long pause and William asks, "Before you go, how is everything going there?"

I pause, wondering how to answer that question. "I won't lie to you, it's weird. I feel so removed from this place. My mom... she looks like hell. She is skin and bones. I don't know exactly what has happened over the last four years, but it has certainly taken a toll on her."

William is quiet. I really didn't expect him to voice any concern or empathy for her, all things considered. In the beginning, I would try to defend my mom to Aiden and William but they were very clear on their stance. She chose sides when she stood by my father's decision, a decision that hurt Aiden deeply, and so they wanted nothing to do with either of them ever again.

"How long do you think you'll be there?" William asks, choosing to change the subject.

"Not sure a few days, maybe a week. It depends on how long it will take for my mom to make the arrangements."

"Well, we miss you."

"I miss you too, brother."

"I'll let you go so you can call Cat."

"Thanks. And thanks for the good news, I really needed it."

"Any time." With that William hung up and I immediately call Cat, but I'm instantly dumped into her voice mail.

"Damn it!" I hang up and don't leave a message but send her a text. 

- William told me you read the letter. If you want to talk, I'm here.

Now, I can do nothing now but wait.