February Lover by Rebecca Royce

drink to get over it. As it was, Aidan never let himself get drunk. For obvious reasons.
    He sat down and used the remote to turn off his mother’s angry-chef program. “I want to talk. I want you to pay attention.”
    “Ordering me around? Don’t forget who you are speaking to.”
    Aidan laughed. “I never, ever could, Mom. Don’t you worry about that.”
    “Then what is it you want so badly you’d take the TV away from a sick woman?”
    He leaned back in his chair. “Your vitals are good, your blood work clean. Even if I didn’t have a medical license, I’d tell you the last couple of days your skin color has been much better. You’re on the mend, and we need to talk.”
    “About what?”
    Aidan held up a hand. “I don’t want to discuss what Dad did all those years. I don’t. There’s no point. You know what happened. I know what happened.”
    “Why do you have to bring these things up when we’re getting along so famously?”
    “Because there are things to be said.” He patted her leg. She was an old woman. He really didn’t intend to give her more stress. If anything, in the end, he hoped she’d have less.
    “Then say it already.”
    There was his mother’s nasty side. If she could do be rude, he wouldn’t imagine her frail.
    “Okay. I will.” He smiled. “Things are never going to be easy between us. Even not living in the same city, I’d like for us to be back in touch. More than we were.”
    “You barely communicated in fifteen years.” She sniffed. “You could have been dead.”
    “If I’d been dead, the army would have let you know.” He supposed this a futile argument, yet he made it anyway.
    “Aidan, you ran in to a fire.” She looked away from him.
    “I did.” He sighed. “And I’d do it again.”
    “I know you would. You were always the bravest kid on the block.”
    He opened and closed his mouth. What had she said? “That’s not how you guys felt about me. You always called me a coward. Or other equally disgusting words.”
    “Your father did. Not me.” She huffed.
    He stood up, his chair hitting the ground from the force of his ascent. “You never stood up for me. Mothers put themselves between their children and bombs. I wasn’t alone when I rushed into those flames. One of the kid’s mothers was there, too. She burned to death. He lived for me to save. Not once did you ever even say, ‘Michael, get your hand off the child.’ And then you actually told a group of people I was a—”
    She held up her hand, interrupting him. “I know what I did. I don’t see the point of rehashing it. I’m a bad mother. Maybe I didn’t have the right instincts for it, or there is something simply wrong with me.”
    “Can you spare me the drama, please?” He shouldn’t have talked back. Before he’d attempted this conversation, he’d decided he wouldn’t be snarky. Besides, the point was to end their impasse, not start it anew.
    “I was terrified to leave him.” Her hands shook. “What would I have done? I don’t even have a college education. How would I have supported us? He would have made sure I got nothing. Those people, the ones you point to as the reason for your military career, they were part of living the way we did. Their good opinions brought business to your father’s law firm, paid for your private school education, your car, our food.”
    With each word she listed, she became more animated. He took a deep breath. This had to stop. Her blood pressure needed to be maintained at an acceptable level.
    “Mom. I know you were scared.” The next part would be hard. “I was frightened all the time. We had that in common, and we didn’t know it.”
    “Right.” She wiped at her eyes, although she wasn’t crying. “Was that what you wanted to say?”
    “No. What I wanted to say to you is I forgive you.”
    He might not really ever actually feel entirely that way. But it had to be good, for both of them, for him to say it.
     
    ***
     
    Aidan had