I passed the night of my second birthday with my mother crying in my arms.
Barely able to restrain herself from sobbing out all the tears in her body, she held me for hours. In my chair, while urging me to eat, all while reassuring me as best as she could.
She tried her best. Even while shaking so much that I could feel it through her layers of clothing. She tried her best to reassure me, even if I could hear the lies whenever she sobbed four times in the same sentence.
But she tried.
She tried her damn best.
Everything is fine.
Everything is always fine.
There's nothing to worry about, I just need to eat and enjoy my birthday.
She didn't eat, I tried five times to get her a bowl too.
Whenever I did, she redirected the conversation, pushed the bowl in my hands, caressed me like I was the one breaking down and always told me the SAME FUCKING THING
It was for me. Everything is for me, for me and only for me.
Every last drop is for me. Every last drop is for me. Every last drop is for me and mommy is so fucking sorry she didn't fed me well enough, I should eat more.
So I ate it.
Everything. Every single FUCKING drop of this stew, I ate every single drop.
Spoon by spoon while she held me in her weak little hands, almost chubby before and now skeletal. Her on her knees, beside my chair, holding me like I'm the only lifeboat in the middle of the sea.
She barely managed to talk, she couldn't fucking talk. Every single one of her sentence being cut down by a pathetic sob that made me want to hold her with my PITFULLY weak hands, so fucking weak, so patheticly disgustingly weak.
She barely calmed down after I force fed myself the entire pot.
She didn't stop holding me. So I grabbed her, and gently guided her toward the couch. She didn't stop holding me, reassuring me with all of the words she herself wanted to hear.
After a good amount of probing and hugging, I managed to drag her on the couch, she kept hugging me. She kept saying that everything will be fine, that the &#& won't reach us, that we're fine, it won't reach us.
I don't know what word she used.
But I do know what happened after this.
I do know.
And I remember everything.
In perfect details.
She asked me about my day. Again, she asked three times before I could finally understand her under all that shaking and sniffing.
When I heard that. I told her about my day.
I told her of my perfect imaginary birthday.
My perfect little day. This day.
After we saw each other in the morning, I left the house. I had some fun figuring out how to close the door by myself.
She started breaking down and apologizing for not teaching me, that's when I realized that I should be extra careful with my words.
So I reassured her.
It was like a puzzle, it was really funny. And when I finally managed to do it, I was really proud of myself.
After this I saw the grandma that lives next door, she's always super kind with me, always.
She told me to be careful with the rain, that I could fall sick, and after this she waved me off.
I wished her a good day, and I started skipping around in the street, even had my fun jumping around in puddles whenever I saw one.
I love jumping in puddles.
Did you know that I love the feeling of jumping in puddles like a dumb fucking kid? Like a dumb fucking useless kid?
She seemed satisfied with my answer, relaxing, she laughed with me when I talked about how much I love the rain.
I love the rain. That's why I go outside a lot.
I know it's bad, but I love going outside to feel the rain on my skin, I love it, she seemed to believe me.
That's why I always look outside the window after all. She knows I love looking outside, even if she doesn't know why.
Well, I told her.
I told her.
And it's not because I'm a reincarnated man that wants more information about this world that terrifies me.
No, it's because it rains. It always rains. And I love the rain.
I thanked her for my bedroom, where I can look at the rain all day long through the window if I wanted.
But I like feeling the horrib-! Lovely rain, on my skin too, so I went outside.
And I danced in the rain. Alone, in the street.
She almost didn't believe me, but when I volunteered to show her my dance, she believed me.
That's when we had a great talk about rain.
She hates rain. Just like the me. Even if she hides it well, when I said I loved the rain. She followed my lead and told me she loved the rain too.
Of course I love rain. I fucking love the cold fucking rain that sticks to my clothes and every inches of my body, I love feeling cold, I love it.
Then, we talked about Mr Hatomo, he invited me into his shop. And like everyday, he taught me about leather working with his wife.
Told her I wanted to work with leather in the future, maybe do something similar to her! Just like when she sewed before.
In any case, in my perfect little story, Hatomo and his wife knew it was my birthday.
So he gave me my new cloak.
This was the only real part in my story.
After this, while she nodded at each of my words. Tears drying out on the side of the my shirt, more drenched than it usually is even after leaving the house during a storm.
She nodded when I talked about the imaginary cake they gave me, she laughed when I told her that his wife beat Hatomo when he tried to steal a piece of this fake cake, and she looked almost peaceful when I talked about Mr Hatomo and his wife antics.
After this. I left Hatomo shop, and everyone in the weapons street gave me some nods and wished me happy birthday, most of the people in this street knows me after all.
At least. This wasn't a complete lie
Then, I went to the playground, and even if there wasn't any children around, I made sure to tell her about all the fun I had running and training around like she usually saw me do inside the house.
After this, I found the library. And miss Okari, she directly welcomed me in, a bit surprised at having a kid around. We talked, enjoyed our time, and when I told her I tried to figure out a way to learn how to read.
She gave me an image book.
There's a small -imaginary- corner in the library with some couches, and she let me read and learn in peace there. Even coming sometimes to help me when I needed the help.
After two enjoyable hours of story reading, I left the library and dashed back in the street to enjoy my birthday.
I kept going for hours. For hours, in the middle of the night. Feeling my shaking mother holding me as close to her as is humanely possible, feeling her little heart beating against my arm.
For hours I lied straight to her face.
Lied straight to her face so she could relax, so she could finally stop remembering about this hell, this hell that became her life.
This hell that is war.
Yes.
That's the word I didn't know about.
Everything is fine, everything is fine, the war won't reach us.
That's the word I managed to pry out of her crying mouth, the word I managed to figure out with enough mumbling context cues.
There's a war going on.
That's why the economy is shit.
And that's why my shaking mother, trembling, still trembling, always trembling no matter how much I hold her. That's why my trembling mother sells her ass to feed my useless child body
That's why my trembling mother, If it wasn't the night of my birthday, that's why she would be outside right now, sucking off a random fucking guy for a dime that she'll use to fund her empty cupboards in the hope of making me another stew, just like tonight.
There's a war.
And tonight, I learned about it.
And tonight. I spout out so much bullshit about my life, so she could calm down from a panic attack.
Tonight, I passed four hours creating lies. To reinforce her own bullshit belief that nothing bad will happen.
Tonight, I force fed myself until my stomach felt like it would explode just to see her smile again.
Tonight...I learned about the war.