fourteen

unedited

Michael stared at his mother. He was sure it was her. She had the same blonde highlights, her hair cut to her shoulders. She wore loose clothes, Michael knew she was ashamed of her sagging body. Michael's father made her feel that way.

He froze in the aisle of the grocery store just staring at his mother from fifty feet away. She was tapping a pen to her chin, debating between two different brands of chips.

Michael held the glass bottle of wine in his hands tighter, too focused on the profile of his mother to realize how tight he was holding it.

Then, she turned in his direction. It was that sixth sense that everyone has where suddenly they can just feel themselves being watched.

She didn't recognize him. Not the colored tattoos littering his body nor the tight jeans on his waist. She didn't recognize the dirty blonde hair or the golden ring around his finger. She was ten feet away, ready to go around the man staring at her, when she recognized him.

She, too, froze in the aisle. Her green eyes matched up with Michael's as they stared at each other.

Ms. Clifford analyzed him, looking from the top of his head to the soles of his shoes. She shook her head, turning around. She pushed her metal cart to the next aisle, meeting up with a man Mike wanted to kill: his father.

Michael turned the opposite direction, biting down on his lips harshly. He found Luke, dumping the few items he was supposed to find in the cart. Luke and Tab were discussing the difference between two flavors of Oreos when Mike came up behind the blonde, hugging him tightly.

Luke jumped in surprise before looking down to see the tattooed fingers. "Hey, Babe. We were only gone for three minutes."

Michael buried his head in Luke's neck to hide the fact that he was crying. "I saw her," he spoke softly, "Then I saw him." He held Luke's waist, squeezing at his skin like his entire life depended on him. Sometimes, it did.

"Who?" Luke turned his body as suddenly he understood. "Oh."

He nodded his head as his lip quivered. He broke down in Luke's arms, right in the middle of aisle twenty seven in front of his daughter and a dozen strangers. A strong 6'5" man whom's 80 percent tattooed fell apart in his husband's arm.

"It's okay, Mikey. Nothing happened, right? They're alive and so are you. You don't need to be alive together." Luke rocked Michael back and forth, standing on the tips of his toes to simply get close to Mike.

Tab looked up at her embracing father's, finally realizing that something was not right. She stayed silent, just watching Luke try to build Michael up again. It was like trying to build a house out of feathers, though.

"It's not supposed to hurt," he sobbed.

"You're allowed to be hurt, they hurt you."

Michael took a step back, rubbing at his eyes with the sleeves of his long sleeve shirt. He clenched his jaw and took a deep breath. He looked over at Tab, faking a smile for her. He held out his hand, letting her take weary steps closer to him.

He held her close, silently promising to never hurt her.