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Garin pressed his lips together and clenched his jaw, then sat beside his mother. She hadn’t been firm with him, or strict with him, or had the energy to be anything even approaching those words, since he was shorter than her, and hearing that tone from her made him feel small again.
He felt the stirrings of some child in him that had never grown up, because he’d buried it alive.
His mother looked at him for a long while, then took his hand in both of hers. “You were so young when you stepped up.”
The little child in Garin dragged itself out of its early grave and Garin’s hand shook in his mother’s.
“You took on so much.” His mother brushed a lock of hair away from his eyes. “You were so brave. And you never wavered, and you never complained.” She cupped his cheek. “You’re the only reason we’re still here.”
Garin bit his lip as his throat tightened. He didn’t want to feel this right now. He was already raw and there wasn’t time. But the lump in his throat held back his words. Some acknowledgement of the reality he’d been living without daring to analyze sank into him. There was a reason he didn’t look too closely at this life. It was too hard; it was too overwhelming; it had been ever since he’d been eleven years old and realized he was the only capable adult left in the family.
“And you shouldn’t have had to do that, baby.”
Garin’s chest cratered. Heat welled up in his throat and burned his eyes. He opened his mouth and a sob burst out.
“You should have never had to.” Garin’s mother pulled him into her arms, and he shattered against her, heaving and shuddering.
It had been so hard for so long and he hadn’t wanted to admit it. He hadn’t been able to admit it and he had never dared to ever, ever admit how fucking sad he’d been.
“Oh, baby.” Garin’s mother kissed his forehead and pet her fingers through his hair. “You did so good.”
He’d been so alone, and he’d been so scared, and he’d just wanted his mother until he’d built up the wall of realization that he would never have her again. He would never get her back. It was all up to him forevermore.
“You did so good.” Garin’s mother held him tight, her own voice thickening. “And I am so sorry.”
“N-n-no”. Garin struggled to speak through his sobs. Hot tears rolled down his face, staining his mother’s shirt. He’d forgotten how to cry. He’d forgotten how overpowering it was, how devastating it was, how it wracked his whole body. “No,” he choked out. “No, you were sick.”
“And you needed me.” Garin’s mother rubbed his back as it heaved.
“I managed. We all managed.” Garin composed himself enough to sit up, his face wet and his nose clogged, his throat scratchy and thick.
“You more than anyone.” Garin’s mother pulled her long sleeves over her thumbs and wiped the tears from under Garin’s eyes. “We’re here because of you, Kevin, but you don’t have to do it all anymore.”
Garin swallowed down the lump in his throat, finally finding it easier to speak. “I don’t do all of it.”
“But you don’t need to do any of it anymore.”
A disbelieving, cynical snort burst from Garin’s nose. He pulled his mother’s hands from his cheeks. “Mom?—”
“I’m serious, Kevin.” His mom’s stern tone returned. “Beaty runs the household on top of her own job. The boys just got incredible offers?—”
“From the lab that killed Dad,” Garin balked. He’d tried to talk to the boys and convince them they didn’t need to go back there. That there were plenty of other companies doing amazing research. But they hadn’t wanted to hear it.
“What happened to your father was a tragic accident.” His mother’s lips tightened. “But the boys and Beaty can take care of themselves now.”
“That doesn’t mean they don’t need me.” Garin shook his head and tried to stand.
“Of course, they still need you, Kevin.” Garin’s mother grabbed his hand and yanked him back down. “But not to take care of them. You raised them and you did a damn good job. But now they’re adults and you’re their brother. And they love you.”
“That’s not…” Garin covered his eyes and dug his middle finger and thumb into his temples. “It’s more than that.”
Garin hadn’t just raised them. He’d shielded them. Not as much as he would have liked, but as much as he could.
“I know. It’s me, too.”
Garin dropped his arm down as his lips trembled, the sobs threatening to return. His mother squeezed his hand with a soft, understanding smile. He’d never said it all before and articulating it sharpened the pain of it to a point.
“I don’t want them to have to be responsible for you, too. I don’t want them to live like I did.” Garin dropped his gaze to their clasped hands, unable to look in his mother’s eyes as he battled the resentment and the guilt at his resentment and the grief of the life he’d never lived. “I want them to pursue the careers they want to pursue. Make choices that are good for them. Fall in love with someone and—” his voice caught “—And be with them.”
