A Luna's heart

TOUGH DECISION

GREY'S POV

At my words, my father looked perfectly nonplussed.

"Your mother?" he echoed, frowning.

Trent hurried to his side, took him by the elbow and talked to him quietly some distance off, out of earshot. As he spoke, Trent kept shooting glances at me over his shoulder. I folded my arms across my chest and stared at them. I didn't get what it was,but those two looked up to something. My father nodded once as if in understanding. When he came my way again, I noticed that look of confusion was gone. He gestured towards the house.

"Let's go in," he said.

"Is she in there?" I asked.

"Your mother?... Well, not exactly. What I meant to say is that she er- went to the hospital for an urgent chemo session. Her driver took her there a few hours ago, but she will be back very soon. Let us go in and wait."

I shook my head, climbed the entry stairs and sat down there.

"I want to wait here," I said firmly.

Trent and my father exchanged a look.

"Okay," said my father. He beckoned to one of the staff who came running. "Get Grey's things from the car and put them in the guestroom."

"I brought nothing with me."

"So you- you don't plan on staying even for a little while?"

"No. I was just passing through."

"Even if you are, you can come stay with us instead of at a motel or wherever it is you are staying."

"No."

Connor sighed. "Well, it is good to see you again, son."

I said nothing, merely stared straight ahead towards the gates where my mother would come through any moment from now.

Trent, who had been shifting his weight from one foot to another, and was evidently uneasy spoke up. "I will be taking my leave now. Connor, say hi to Lupita for me when she gets back. Bye, Grey."

He got into his car and zoomed off. Once again, I wondered why everyone- Trent especially- was acting so weird. I sat there until the light changed. As the sun began to set, my mother's favourite jeep came into the compound. I got up and walked down the stairs stopping in front of the spot where her car would likely come to a stop. My father, who had been pacing all this while also hurried foward. I wondered what I would see. Was she pale? Had she started loosing all her hair because of the chemotherapy? I felt a slight sense of shock as I realized that she was the one behind the wheel of the car. The car accelerated, came straight at me. She hit the brakes on time and the car came to a screeching stop an inch from where I stood. She jerked open the door, came out, took a few steps backwards in surprise.

"Grey!" she cried, her hands flying to her mouth. "Is this really you?"

"Yes, mum."

My father hurried to her."Lupita, wait a minute. We need to talk."

He leaned close and whispered something in her ear. She did not seem to hear what he said as she had eyes only for me. I took in her appearance. She still had a full head of blonde hair. She had not lost any weight. Dressed in a designer pant suit, she looked beautiful as always, and full of life. My father took her arm, tried to lead her away. She shook him off. With a cry of delight, she ran to me, moving gracefully even though she was wearing very high heels. She wrapped her arms around me, enveloping me in a tight hug.

"Oh, son," she said. "I knew you would come back home."

I patted her back once and stepped away. I scowled at my father who looked mortified.

"Go on, dad," I said to him. "Explain what is going on here because in all my life, I have never seen a more lively cancer patient."

My mother glanced from me to him in surprise. "Cancer? Who has cancer? Is it you, Grey?"

"Apparently, it's you, mum."

"Me? When did I get diagnosed with cancer? Connor, what is going on here?"

"You know? This situation would have been funny if I wasn't so pissed. Never mind the explanation, I am getting out of here."

As I made a move to leave, my mother grabbed my arm. "Don't leave, Grey. At least not yet."

My father walked up to me, laid a hand on my shoulder. "Son, come inside and at least let me explain. Please."

I hesitated, shrugged and headed to the house. My father hurried forward and threw open double doors. Our house was massive, opulent and tastefully furnished. It was a far cry from my run down apartment back in Lair Falls. The first thing that caught my attention was a life sized portrait of me. Someone, probably my mum, had moved it from the hallway to the living room. In the portrait, done years ago, I was smiling, something I had forgotten how to do these days. I sat on the very edge of the sofa, fixed my eyes on my father.

"Go on," I said shortly. "I just have a few minutes to spare. Nothing more."

My father cleared his throat. "Grey, I know I lied, but you can't blame me for what I did. Your mother and I know you are a grown now, but we still can't help worrying about you, especially since..." My mother shot him a warning look. "Okay. Let me go straight to the point. Trent, knows how worried we are about you. He called me to say you were coming. Then he drew me aside to tell me that to get you here, he had say that your mother had cancer-"

"Which was a lie."

He nodded. Then I recalled Trent's furtive looks, his hasty departure, the way he had tried to pump me for information and of course, he had gotten the name of my mother's supposed ailment at the spur of the moment, from the signpost across the street.

"Your mother actually went shopping and wasn't taking her calls or replying her messages." He looked at her reproachfully. "You saw her before I could clue her in and then you obviously saw that she was healthy."

"You did the right thing, Connor," my mother said, taking her husband's hand in hers. At my look of disbelief, she tossed her head. "What? It's the truth. If I have to pretend to be ill in order to see my only son, I will do it over and over again. Your father and I don't where you live now. You don't take our calls or messages. We don't even know if you are alive or- or not."

I sighed. "You both know why I left-"

"We know why," my father said. "But we were never in support of your decision and- what is that on your face?"

"Did you... get into another fight?" my mother asked, unconsciously lowering her voice.

I shrugged. "Sort of." My mother gasped. "But I walked away even they cut me. I didn't want to... kill someone. I didn't want to repeat history."

"And the wound healed on it's own," my father said in a matter of fact tone.

"Are the symptoms still there?" my mother asked, as though terrified of the answer.

I considered lying, decided not to. "Yes. And it's worse than before."

My parents exchanged a worried look. My mother was instantly by my side. She gripped my arms so tightly that her nails unconsciously dug into them. She was trembling a bit. "Please stay, Grey. Let your father and I help you fight this. We can find different ways of administering the drug to suppress these symptoms. If you don't want to stay here with us, we still kept your house in order in the hopes that you would return."

"Stay, son," my father urged. "We can even increase the dosage of the drug. We are the only ones who understand."

I looked around; at my potrait on the wall, the grand staircases on which I had run happily up and down as a child, around the house, which held a lot of pleasant memories. Because deep inside, I was tired of the life of a loner, I allowed myself to hope that things would get better. I agreed to stay.

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I took one last look at the house in the dim light of dawn. In an hour or two, the occupants of the house would stir and begin the day's activities. Soon, my parents would find me gone. I cussed myself for allowing myself to hope that things would get better.

The drugs my parents had administered to me in the past, which had stopped my manic episodes in the past were useless now. My parents had concocted more of the drugs and in the makeshift clinic in the house, they had injected me with increasingly large doses of the drug. I had drank it, inhaled it, and still there was no change. Of course, we couldn't go to a regular doctor. The doctors would most likely chain me up in a mental hospital.

One or the other of my parents had kept watch on me every night. I had lied that I was fine but I felt myself getting worse. Last night was a full moon and I had been perfectly savage. It had taken all my will power to sneak out of the window and to the large field bordering our property. I had mangled the iron gate that barred the way as though it was rubber. Then I sat alone in the field, shaking all night in a blind fury, resisting the urge to destroy something.

When I came to myself, I had broken into a cold sweat at the realization that I could easily have hurt my parents if they had been anywhere close to me at the time. Then I would really be a monster. I had gone into the house, written a note to tell them I was gone for good, packed up my things.

"They are better off without me," I muttered to myself as I stood there, with the dew falling all around me.

The security at the gate would no doubt alert my parents to the fact that I was leaving. I couldn't stand my mother's tears and entreaties and my father's promises. I wanted a clean break. So I set off for the part of the fence not easily seen from the house. Shouldering my bag, I nimbly scaled the fence, dropped onto the other side. I dusted off my clothes and set off for the main road. My destination was once again Lair Falls.