Chapter Six: The questions he never asked
755 Words
Henry was good at spotting silences — the ones people filled with noise, and the ones that lingered like dust in the corners of a room. He saw his mother’s silences most of all.
When Portia asked about her father, Dodo had paused. And in that pause, Henry saw something crack behind her eyes.
He knew he wasn’t supposed to ask. But the question had been ripening in him like fruit for years. And now, it was too heavy to carry.
That night, after the dishes were done and the flat quiet, he found her in the kitchen. She was bent over the sink, rinsing mugs and humming a broken tune that didn’t belong to any song.
“Mama?”
She looked up, blinking. “Hey, baby. Can’t sleep?”
“Can I ask you something?”
“Always.”
He hesitated. “Do Portia and I… have the same father?”
She dried her hands with the dishtowel, taking a moment. “No. You don’t.”
Henry nodded, already halfway knowing the answer. But it wasn’t enough.
“Do you know him?”
She exhaled. Not just breath — regret. “Yes. I knew him. I loved him.”
Henry sat on the stool by the counter. “What happened?”
Dodo rested her palms on the counter. Her back straightened, braced like she was about to step into the truth fully — no turning back.
“I misunderstood him,” she said.
That caught Henry off guard.
“He was a simple man. Not in a bad way. He liked things quiet. He didn’t have big dreams or a plan for tomorrow. But he was steady. Present.”
She paused. “And I wanted more. I wanted fire. Wealth. Passion. I wanted him to become someone else — someone I thought could give me the life I imagined. When he couldn’t… I treated him like he failed me. When really… I failed to love him as he was.”
Henry stayed still, watching her.
“I pushed him away,” Dodo whispered. “He loved you. I believe that with everything in me. But I made it hard for him to stay. I didn’t just want love — I wanted transformation. I wanted to escape everything we were.”
Henry looked down at the kitchen tile, jaw tightening. “So he didn’t leave because he didn’t want me?”
“No,” Dodo said firmly. She walked over and knelt beside him. “He left because I couldn’t accept him. And in the process… I made it feel like he didn’t belong. I’m sorry, my boy. That pain — that hole — that’s on me.”
Henry didn’t cry. But something in his chest loosened. He had been expecting blame. Anger. Bitterness. But instead, his mother gave him something he didn’t expect — truth without defence.
“Did you love him?” he asked.
She smiled sadly. “Yes. But sometimes love isn’t loud. And I didn’t know how to recognise the quiet kind.”
He nodded again, more slowly this time. “I think… I would’ve liked him.”
“I think he would’ve been proud of you,” she whispered.
They stayed like that for a moment — mother and son in the yellow wash of the kitchen light, between the past that couldn’t be fixed and the future still waiting to be shaped.
Later that night Dodo wrote on her journal.
Tonight Henry asked.
Not just about his father — but about who I was back then.
I told the truth. For the first time, without trying to blame or defend or explain away.
I wanted too much. I expected too much. I chased a version of love I saw in magazines and films, and I missed the real thing standing in front of me. His father didn’t leave — I pushed him to the edge with my hunger, my comparisons, my shame.
And Henry? He’s been carrying the cost of that.
He’s so much like him. Gentle. Thoughtful. Watching the world from the edge instead of rushing to the center.
And tonight, I saw the tiniest door open in him. He didn’t say it, but I could feel it:
Maybe I am loved. Even if it was messy. Even if it was broken.
I don’t know if his father will ever return.
But I’ll spend the rest of my life making sure Henry knows:
It wasn’t his fault. It was mine. And I will always choose him.
— Dodo"
- Writer
