Letting It Out

Writers: Leigh M-F.
Date Posted: 14th February 2015

Characters: A'kua
Description: Freud would have a field day.
Location: Dragonsfall Weyr
Date: month 11, day 14 of Turn 7
Notes: Mentioned: Ilyssia, obliquely.

To say he was confused would be a massive understatement. Aluka had no idea
where this tavern was, how he had gotten there, who he was looking for, or
why everyone was so damn happy. They were dancing and talking, feasting on
food that looked maddeningly tasty, and clapping their hands and stomping
their feet and singing along with the harpers who were playing their hearts
out.

Aluka almost wanted to join in, but the smell of alcohol was everywhere,
which put him off. Besides, he still hadn't found who he was looking for,
even after two laps of the place, dodging boisterous bodies and waitstaff.
At last he went in a different direction and moved toward the middle of the
dance floor, where there was a ring of people. Using his height to his
advantage, Aluka pushed through them, freezing as he realized who was
there.

She was very lovely, slim and six inches shorter than he, with dark blue
eyes and long red-gold hair that flared and streamed as she spun and
danced. She was laughing and kicking up her heels, holding her pretty blue
skirt, stitched with yellow flowers and green ivy above the ruffled hem, at
her knees with one hand while carrying a wooden goblet in the other.

He had never seen his mother this happy before. Oh, sure, sometimes he had
seen her smile due to his actions, before alcohol withered her beauty,
before the verbal abuse wore her down completely, but never like this;
never so open and honest and joyful. It stunned him. It broke his heart. It
made him smile in awe. After so long, it was wonderful beyond words to see
Shastia of Bex Hold blissful for once.

The music swirled to a crescendo and ended on a loud, triumphant note, and
Shastia struck a pose within it. The crowd whooped and cheered and
hollered, applauding, and Shastia threw back her head and laughed. "Thank
ya, thank ya!" she called, taking a bow, and only then did she notice him.
"Oh, my! Dahlin', it's so good to see ya," she said, and her voice was
beautiful again, dulcet and charming. "Care t' join me?"

She held out the goblet, and Aluka recognized it as her favorite drinking
cup. He would never forget the details carved into the stem, the dent in
the rim from her teeth, the swirling grain of the wood. Sheer rage exploded
in him and flooded his eyes with red, and he lashed out, smacking the
goblet with the back of his right fist so hard he felt a knuckle crack and
sent the cup flying to smash against the wall, spilling wine everywhere.
The ambient noise died an abrupt death, and Shastia stared at him in shock.

"Ya _stupid bitch_," Aluka hissed in a near-baritone. For second, he felt a
flash of alarm for daring to speak to his mother in such a manner, but he
couldn't make himself stop: The words just kept coming. "Ya _always_ did
this! No matter wha' happened, ya always dove nose-first into a drink
'steada dealin' with it like a responsible adult. Ya let the other holders
walk all over ya an' pretended ya _deserved_ it. Ya were my ma an' yet I
was raisin' ya half the time! I know a _fourteen Turn-old_ who takes this
kinda thang better'n a grown woman e'er did!

"Did all those times I helped ya in the lav while ya pitched up yer innards
mean nothin'? All the times I shielded ya, told ya yer the best mother on
Pern, brought ya flowers an' cleaned up after ya an' did the chores so ya
wouldn' haveta, an' ev'thin' I did, it was never 'nuff! I was yer
Ancients-damned son! I needed ya, Ma, an' ya _let me down!_ If'n ya were
jus' gon' _abandon_ me- if'n my love an' care wasn' 'nuff t' make ya happy-
ya shoulda been absolutely horrible t' me, made sure there were no good
times at all, so I'd hate ya 'steada love ya! I could letcha go if'n I
hated ya, but I _cain'_ 'cause I love ya too much!"

The silence was deafening. Aluka heaved for air and felt tears scald his
cheeks. He hadn't cried since his mother's cremation.

Shastia looked as though someone had smacked her across the face with the
butt of a whip, and for a few moments, she couldn't speak. "Oh, dahlin',"
she finally said softly, and stepped forward, drawing her son into her
arms. He tried to resist, but found himself clinging to her like he was a
stripling again. If he bowed his head, he could smell her hair, infused
with lavender. "Why din'cha ever tell me?" Shastia asked.

"Ya wouldn've listened," Aluka choked.

Shastia closed her eyes. "Ah'm sorry, dahlin'. So sorry for ev'erthang."

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

It was the pain in his hand that woke him. The tall youth had no idea what
was going on; the crowd was gone, and he couldn't smell lavender. When he
finally oriented himself, he realized he was in bed, his cheeks and eyelids
felt sticky, and his right hand was against the wall. He wiped his face
with his left hand and gingerly pried the right away, holding it in front
of his eyes. His first middle knuckle was split open, sluggishly seeping
blood. At least he couldn't see the bone. "Damn it, Ma," he sighed, and
licked the wound clean before getting out of bed.

He'd have a bath, see a healer for some bandages and medicine, and try to
get through the day without thinking about how good it felt to finally let
his mother have it, even if it was just a dream.

He would have to resist the temptation to cry a little more, too. At least
where anyone could see him.

Last updated on the February 20th 2015

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Letting It Out