He’s not sure if he hates his father or if his father is right about him.
He is weak. He can’t protect his mother from his father’s blows. She shields him more from the attacks as best as she can. She always puts a smile on for him, but he can see the shine gone from her eyes. He sees the foundation clogging up the lines on her face. The butterfly stitch covered by her bangs. The dark circles under her eyes. How she walks gently, as if on air around the house. How she barely makes a sound unless his father is gone.
When his father is gone, she transforms. It’s almost like the show he watches with her on the couch. By day a normal woman but by night after a light show and 30 second transformation scene becomes someone new. Someone renewed. That’s his mother. The marks are never gone but she smiles, really smiles and it’s all for him and Guardian too he guesses. He has to share. His mother has been teaching him to share and be kind…or maybe it was from the story she read to him about good conquering evil. Good always winning but the journey is tough.
He remembers the smell. Warm and smoky with a hint of sweetness like cooked brown sugar. He remembers the treats cooking in the oven. Her smile was different, but it still looked real. It didn’t look the same as when dad was home, but it wasn’t the same as when they were both alone. He’s not sure what the occasion is but they had made sweets today. Chocolate chips to be precise. Guardian was happy with the choice of course but Bruce could do with some oatmeal cookies. Chocolate was too sweet.
It was fun to bake. The dough was sticky and made a mess but it’s interesting watching the cookies bake rise and then settle down to their fully cooked size. The smell was amazing it filled the room. His mother had the radio on low and would hum every now and then to the tune on the radio. It was warm but too sweet.
He remembers the sound of the front door opening followed by the screen door slamming behind his father. He remembers the way his father eyes him and then his mother. Then nothing. Feels too cold, like a fog rolling in covering his view. It’s not darkness but it’s not something he can feel or react to. It’s not even like watching a movie play without sound. It just blurry with unrecognizable shapes more colors and clouds with the sound of an old generator running. He doesn’t understand it at first. Doesn’t know how this is possible if he is somewhere else or why he can still make out some images but still be too heavy to move or react.
Then as soon at it had come it’s gone. He’s in bed looking up at his mother shushing him as she places a cool cloth over his head. Her small smile is different. It’s the same as when dad is home. Dad is home and he feels sore. Feels aches where none were there before. He looks up at his mother who just washes his face with the cold cloth gently humming a tune. Maybe it’s from the radio maybe the radio is still on? But they’re not in the kitchen anymore. They’re in his room but how did he get here?
He wishes he could be stronger. He wishes he could be more like Guardian. Dad would love Guardian more. Guardian is stronger, better than him. He sniffles tears burning as they roll down his cheek. His mother kisses the top of his forehead whispering words of comfort, but he can’t understand them. They make noise but don’t make sense.
He can’t understand them. He needs to be stronger. He needs to be.
He feels the hum and throb in his head. It’s not painful just there coming in faster and frantic till it reaches the edge the place of where the fog rolls in. He feels the prickle against his head sending shivers down his back. He hears a loud chant. It’s not really a word but it has meaning. He knows what it means even if he can’t speak the word right now. The throbbing lessens and falls into a gentle thump against his skull. His hair stands on end along as his arms as he feels Guardian more solid than the wind he was before.
Guardian feels like blown sand in a storm. He understands his meaning. Guardian will protect. Will always protect. Guardian made the fog roll in. It’s a place but not a real place. Bruce understands feeling Guardian move around in his head trying to explain without using words just feelings and memories. Good and bad. Bruce can communicate with Guardian. It’s easier this way, less stressful. They feel it and both know they have to look out for each other because no one else will.