C.W: Mental Health Issues, Suicide Attempt, Self-harm   

Nearly twenty years had passed since that fateful day at school —1992, to be precise. Lucas Amery, who was nearing thirty, endured a tumultuous life. He had managed to graduate high school, endure the strict discipline of reform school, and, through sheer determination, earn a scholarship to a moderately prestigious university. While juggling his studies, he worked tirelessly to support his family and eventually earned a law degree.

This career offered him a more stable future than pursuing music —or so he believed— but it was also a path he followed to honor his late stepfather’s wishes. Before passing away from cancer in the late 1980s, Lucas had promised him that he would follow his advice and build a respectable life.

However, behind his accomplishments lay the shadow of someone who had once meant everything to him: Sergio, his first friend and the person he had cherished above all others. From time to time, he wondered: What might Sergio be doing? Would he be happy? Married? Or even… would he even have a family?

Lucas’s professional life flourished at a law firm, where he built a reputation for winning cases with a tenacity that often bordered on ruthlessness. He defended clients without hesitation, motivated by his own ambition. But whatever fleeting happiness he found in his career was soon hindered by the return of an old nightmare: his mother.  

After his stepfather’s death, she forced Lucas to move back in with her, wielding threats of self-harm to ensure her compliance.  

“You ungrateful bastard,” she would sneer. Her skill in emotional manipulation was as despicable as ever. Despite her age, she was unable to give up drinking.

Feigning illness and exhaustion, she frequently harmed herself to demand his attention, dragging him into an endless cycle of guilt and obligation. Though Lucas had dreamed of leaving her behind, moving far away to start anew, life had other plans. Her eventual diagnosis of Alzheimer’s added another layer of complexity.  

Lucas abandoned his ambitions of becoming a celebrated lawyer. He quit his job to care for his mother full-time, taking on the role of her caregiver with a level of sacrifice few could comprehend. Bathing her, feeding her, dressing her —his days revolved around her needs, leaving little room for himself.  

To make ends meet, he sought a job that would allow him to remain close to her. Teaching offered the flexibility he needed. He took a position at Saint Louis University, an institution with long, shadowy hallways and an air of somber tradition. Occasionally, he had to teach on Saturdays, but it allowed him to stay near his mother and even hire a nurse to assist during his work hours.  

**

One night, Lucas returned to the apartment he shared with his mother and carefully closed the door behind him. The nurse had already left after putting her to bed, and she should have been fast asleep —or so he thought. Setting his briefcase down on the couch, he paused as the faint clinking of dishes reached his ears from the kitchen.  

“The nurse?” he wondered. She had called earlier, mentioning she had already prepared dinner hours ago.  

To his surprise, it was his mother. She moved slowly, her motions clumsy and deliberate.  

“Mom, what are you doing?” Lucas asked, his voice edged with concern. “It’s late. I’ll take care of that.”  

She turned to him, her hands still in the sink. “Lucas?”  

Hearing her say his name made him pause. Sometimes, she recognized him; other times, she confused him with her late husband or stepfather. On the worst days, she treated him like a complete stranger. Lucas approached her carefully. She was holding a plate and moving toward the stove, seemingly intent on lighting it.  

“What are you doing?” he asked again, his tone soft, firm.  

“I’m making dinner,” she replied, her voice faint but resolute.  

Lucas gently took the plate from her hands and guided her away from the stove. “You already had dinner with the nurse, Mom. She told me on the phone.”  

She furrowed her brow, her confusion evident. “Oh… right, right.”  

Lucas sighed and thought to himself. “I should have come home earlier.” Then, the professor took her hand. “Come on. Let’s get you back to bed.”  

He walked beside her, matching her slow steps until they reached her room.  

“How was work?” she asked suddenly.

“F-fine. Nothing out of the ordinary,” he replied as he helped her settle into bed.  

“And your father?” she asked, looking at the side of the bed where his stepfather once slept.

Lucas froze momentarily, taking a deep breath before responding. “Mom… Dad isn’t with us anymore.”  

She blinked; her face showed confusion. “What do you mean? Where is he?”  

Lucas swallowed hard, steadying his voice. “He… passed away, a long time ago.”  

Her expression softened as the memory seemed to surface. “That’s right… I forgot,” she murmured.  

An awkward silence followed. Lucas knew she would forget again in minutes, and yet, before he could say goodnight, his mother expressed something unexpected.  

“You’re a good son.”  

The unexpected words made Lucas avert his gaze, his throat tightening. He looked back at her, his voice barely above a whisper. “Thank you, mom.” 

He lingered by her bedside until she drifted into sleep. Once her breathing steadied, Lucas rose and returned to the kitchen to wash the dishes she had left behind.  

The days were growing more difficult, he knew. But those rare, tender moments —however fleeting— were ones he would carry with him forever.