Five

When she wakes up, hours later, late in the morning, the first thing she notices is that the bed she is lying upon is not hers and the next thing is that there are sounds coming from somewhere, which is weird, there has never been a sound in their tiny Parisian flat. She opens her eyes, disoriented for a second longer before she remembers where she is and relaxes back in the bed. 

"Hello mommy," her son says in a whisper from somewhere in the room. 

Madora looks up and around the room with eyes that do not want to open just yet and spots her baby under the desk with a book in his hands and a sad smile on his face.

"Hey baby," she smiles softly. Holding up her hand and blanket, she waits for her son to join her, so they can cuddle. The best thing about cold winter mornings is the cuddling, which mother and son do plenty of. "When did you wake up?"

"Your phone said it was eight," comes his muffled voice from where he is crushing his face against her chest.

"Did you have breakfast then?"

He shakes his head. 

"Why? Didn't you go downstairs?"

"You were asleep," her little boy replies. "Uncle Cade came to fetch me but I didn't want to go without you, so he brought me a book and a glass of milk."

That man is a saint. Madora needs to thank him later.

"You could sit with uncle Cade and have breakfast," she says, encouraging Harry to connect with these people. If not today then maybe tomorrow. But again her son only shakes her head. "Why not, baby?" she runs her hands through his silky strands, cursing herself for not being a better mother. 

"I don't know them," he finally says. "Mum," he lifts up his head to look at his mum with pleading eyes, "When are we going home? I miss home, I miss uncle Kirk." By the end of that sentence he is almost crying. Courageously he just swallows hard and hides his face against Madora's chest. Again. 

It breaks her heart to see him like this, unsure of himself and his place in the house. It breaks her heart that she is pushing him through this, but she has to. Not in a good condition herself emotionally, Madora forces her voice to be steady and cheerful when she talks to her baby boy, soothing him with promises of better days ahead, of meeting with uncle Kirk soon, of them now having a bigger family. It takes a while until she succeeds but she does eventually and they head down together for breakfast with smiles, uncertain and faint on their faces.

###

Their late breakfast is nice. Elvina is sweet to both of them, and Kaden keeps talking to Harry, a few times even winning a smile from the boy. Everything is pleasant, they talk while Harmonee and his twins scream and shout cheerfully outside, snowball fighting and having fun. For a moment Madora, staring out the huge kitchen window, gets emotional and on the verge of tears. That is what her son, Harry, deserves as well. To be outside with her father. Playing, laughing out loud and being happy. Instead, thanks to his mother and his parents' past, he is sitting here, gloomy, conversing with a grown up and stealthily looking outside at the happy group longingly.

Everything is good until Jax joins them in the kitchen. Nothing is wrong with that. He is his usual happy self, chirping hello to Elvina and Kaden with a beaming smile, talking to Kaden about one thing or another then leaving. What is wrong with that is all through that encounter he completely ignores Harry and Madora. As if they are not there. As if they do not exist. 

Madora bites the inside of her cheek while Kaden, perceptive as ever, keeps Harry busy with a silly story about a fat bearded man who had the longest striped hat in the world. 

"Mama?" Her son's subdued voice pulls her away from her thoughts. She looks at him, forcing a smile. "I wanna go upstairs." Then with a shy look at Elvina, he says, "Thanks for the food," then jumps out of the chair and leaves. 

Silently.

Slowly.

Moving like an old man who is bearing the weight of the world on his shoulders.

"Hey Harry," Elvina calls. "Don't you wanna join my boys outside? It's a nice day to play out."

Harry just shakes his head. 

"He doesn't know how to make friends," Madora confesses, not meeting their eyes. "Never actually had the chance."

"What do you mean?" Elvina questions concerned. 

She takes a deep breath. With a shaky hand, she pushes her hair behind one ear then fiddles with the cup of coffee before her on the table. "During my pregnancy, apparently from the very beginning of it, I was in a bad place. Emotionally and mentally. It affected him. He was born during the seventh month and had to be put inside NICU. He was smaller, grew slower and I didn't let him attend school because he was too small and I was worried about bullies... I mean, he was different in every sense of the word, the excellent target."

"Wait," Kaden brought both hands up, a frown etched on his face. "What do you mean? NICU?"

"Babies born during the seventh month of pregnancy are preemies, and in order for them to be healthy, as much as possible, they're put in the hospital's neonatal intensive care unit for a while, depending on their condition. Premature births usually cause some sort of difficulties for the baby, in Harry's case his physical state. He's small for a ten-year-old," Elvina explains to her brother then turns to Madora with a sad smile, "I'm sorry to hear that. And I'm sure you made the right choice, taking care of your baby."

"Well, I kept him away from anyone his own age," Madora sniffles. "Pretty shitty of me. Projecting my own fears and bad experiences onto him, making him afraid of things that might not have happened. So, he's not good with kids... and relationships are difficult for him. Kirk and I were the only ones he had a constant relation with."

"Kirk?" Kaden asks.

"My doctor turned friend," Madora explains. "He's the one who saved me back then and every day since. I owe him my life. And of course, Harry's."

"Then you had someone to take care of you, that's good to know." Kaden puts a hand on her shaking ones on the table. "Glad you're here now. We'll take care of you and your son. I promise."

Madora nods, "I know you will." 

"And Jax," Kaden massages his neck. "He'll come around."

"He will," Hailey says from the kitchen's doorway, her eyes glassy and a bundle of blankets in her arms. All three of them look up at her. She is smiling. Not a big bright smile, not the one she used to have back in the day. But it is a smile and Madora appreciates the effort. 

"It is a thing in this house," she says. "You guys creep around. That's just... creepy." 

They laugh at that. Hailey joins them and for the first time, Madora sees and holds her best friend's almost one-year-old baby girl. "Hi Leya," she coos, holding the bundle in her arms. "Hey girl, I'm your mama's best friend, please promise you'll become my baby boy's best friend when you grow up?"

"Excuse me," Elvina, standing to clean up the table, puts her hands on her hips with a mock glare directed at Madora. "I've been offering up my boys since you guys came here yesterday, now one look from that blubbering, spitting little human makes you want a forever with her?"

Madora and Hailey laugh at that. Kaden, a small happy smile on his face, gets to his feet, "I'm gonna leave you ladies to your mommy banters. Have a good day."

And that is what they do.

Three friends.

Three old friends.

Three moms.

They sit and talk and boast about their babies. It is fun. It is nice. It is normal.

###

He is sitting in uncle Kaden's study, the only part of the house that nobody visits unless uncle Kaden himself is in the room and the man is not there now. It is just him. Him and his most favorite book. The book that uncle Kirk gave him on his sixth birthday. He holds it in both hands and stares at the cover. He misses the man. It is Wednesday. On Wednesdays, uncle Kirk always picks him up for a day out, just the two of them doing boy stuff, which always means some sort of game. He looks down at the book on his lap and opens it. Inscribed on the first page in uncle Kirk's handwriting is a dedication, 'Hi little mouse, *waves*' with a very bad drawing of something that was supposed to look like a mouse. It always makes him laugh. Even now, all alone, far away from his favorite uncle, this makes him laugh. Then he reads,

"A mouse took a stroll through the deep dark wood, a fox saw the mouse and the mouse looked good. 'Where are you going to, little brown mouse? Come and have lunch in my underground house!' 'It's terribly kind of you fox but no, I'm going to have lunch with a Gruffalo!"