Chapter 4 Voice Your Discomfort
My voice remained soft as always, but my words were anything but gentle.
Orion looked at me in disbelief, his eyes wide as saucers.
At that moment, Lillian scooped him up, her brow furrowed in disappointment as she met my gaze.
“Felicity, I know you’re upset, but you can’t take it out on Orion,” she said, her tone a mix of concern and reproach.
Roger stood silently beside her, offering only a fleeting glance
my way.
His emotions were a jumble, and though he opened his mouth several times, no words came.
Orion continued to sob uncontrollably, his cries piercing the air around us.
I let out a small laugh, ignoring Lillian’s plea, and shifted my focus back to Orion. “What happened to the little cross I gave you?”
His cries abruptly halted as he began to fumble over himself, searching through his pockets and clothing. Finally, he looked up at me with empty hands.
“I put it in… I put it in…” Orion stammered, struggling to find the right words.
At that moment, his lower lip quivered, and I could see the guilt
etched on his face.
I sighed heavily, asking, “You threw it away, didn’t you?”
The cross had been a special gift, something I had put my heart into acquiring.
Orion had always been more fragile than his peers, likely a side effect of his rough start in life.
Worried about him, I had trekked up to the old church on the hill with nothing but hope to bring back a small cross.
When I presented it to Orion, he initially examined it with curiosity, only for disappointment to settle in when he realized it was just an ordinary cross.
Pouting, Orion tossed it aside onto the sofa and complained, “Mom, why are you so superstitious?
“No wonder Dad says you’re boring.
“I like cool car models; why don’t you get me those instead, like Ms. Miller?”
He seemed oblivious to the disappointment on my face, lost in his dreams of shiny vehicles.
That night, I tossed and turned, disturbing Roger from his deep slumber.
After hearing my story, he merely pulled up the blanket and said nonchalantly, “Orion has a point.
Just stop doing these thankless tasks.”
Silent tears soaked half my pillow as I cried quietly, not wanting to disturb anyone.
Leaving that home wasn’t a hasty decision; it was the culmination of deep–rooted disappointment.
As I collected my thoughts, I delivered my final message to Orion.
“From now on, I am no longer your mom.”
I stole a glance at Roger, quietly gauging his reaction.
Taking Mia’s hand in mine, I nodded gently at him. “Take care
of Orion.”
With those words, I turned away without looking back, leaving no room for hesitation.
I could hear Orion’s voice trailing after me, calling out desperately, “Mom, Mom…”
He repeated it over and over, but I didn’t look back. Instead, I bent down to Mia and asked softly, “Does it hurt?”
ཅ་་པཎ་་
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She discreetly covered the scrape on her elbow with her small hand and shook her head, her understanding demeanor pulling at my heartstrings.
I lifted her up gently and whispered, “Mia, if you’re hurt, don’t hide it. You have to learn to voice your discomfort, okay?”
And the way Mia looked at me, I knew she understood.
