“Laurence?”

His grip tightens on his hand, but the panic in his eyes is gone. He turns around, locking eyes with his mum.

“Mother.” She smiles hesitantly. “And you must be Asher. Laurence mentioned you were coming also. I’m Hera Arleson.” I nod, extending my hand. She shakes, then gestures to her table.

“Would you two care to join me for a chat?” Her eyes are practically begging Laurence. She isn’t here to hurt him. She genuinely wants to talk to her son. Only took her a fucking decade.

Hera leads us back to the table, Laurence and I sitting on one side of the booth whilst she sits on the other. Laurence hasn’t let go of my hand, his grip is painfully tight but he needs this. I’ll help him in any way I can.

“So,” she begins, holding her mug out in front of her. “How have you been?” Laurence visibly flinches, his grip tightening again.

“Are we talking recently or the last ten years?” His mother flinches, then relaxing into the back of her seat. “I deserve that. I deserve everything you throw my way, Laurence.”

Hera takes a deep breath, closing her eyes. “I’m sorry. I really am. After your dad left, I was too wrapped up in my own head to even think about you, so I ignored your existence.”

She opens her eyes. She looks like she might cry. “I should have never treated you like that, you were also suffering from his absence and I made it far worse.” Laurence’s grip begins to loosen slightly on my hand.

“I took out my anger and sadness that your father didn’t love me, on you, by not loving you either. That was cruel.” She begins to sob, and I feel pain in my hand grow as he squeezes my hand even harder.

“You…didn’t even love me…at all?” Laurence’s voice cracks, and a single tear diving down his cheek. He doesn’t wipe it away.

Hera chokes back a sob, covering her face with a hand. “I-I’m sorry, Laurence. I-I…I have no excuse. I don’t deserve to even see you again, but…” she removes her hand, staring Laurence in the eyes.

“If you…if you would let me, I want to love you. I want to get to know you…I want my son back!” His mother breaks down, weeping into her hands.

Laurence’s expression is blank. The tear track on his cheek the only hint of emotion. “Laurence?” I ask hesitantly, touching his shoulder. “Do…you want to go?”

He turns towards me, then shakes his head. “No. I might as well finish hearing her out.” I glance over to the woman, consumed by her own grief. She’s still too wrapped up in her own head to care about Laurence.

I glare at her. For fuck’s sake, she’s making this so much worse for everyone. Why would you tell your son you’re trying to reconnect with that you never loved him?

“Hera.” I reach across the table, tapping the table in front of her. She glances up at me, her eyes puffy and red. “Pull yourself together, you’re allowed to be sad and cry, but not at others’ expense.”

She stares at me, shocked. “Listen here, it was extremely hard for Laurence to come here today, and all you’ve done is apologise and make excuses for yourself. You don’t deserve to be forgiven. You were cruel and you’re still being inconsiderate towards him because all you’ve done is state what you want. Have you even considered what Laurence might want from this? He wants what he’s always wanted: his mother to love him. And you…you told him you didn’t love him. That’s disgusting. Sort yourself out and have a proper conversation, actually listening to him.”

I lean back in my seat, collecting myself. Maybe I was a little harsh. FUCK THAT! I don’t care what she was struggling with, it doesn’t excuse her behaviour then or now.

Hera blinks at me, then wipes her eyes, peering over at Laurence, whose face is still a statue. “You’re right…Laurence…what do you want?”

His expression shifts slightly, letting go of my hand completely. I glance over to him. “I want you to stop causing me pain. I’m tired of feeling like I was never good enough, like I wasn’t worth your attention or affection. I want things to be simple now. I want you either properly in my life, or gone for good. You can decide which.”

He leans back, unclenching his fists. I place my hand on top of his, and he takes my hand in his, a small smile touching his features.

Laurence turns back to his mother, his expression softening slightly. “So, what will it be?”