Charlote Roy Part 3

I sit still on the edge of the bed and gaze at my sleeping son's calm face. I don’t want him to go. I love seeing him sleeping here; it brings both happy and sad memories. His face is beautiful and innocent, free of the darkness that resides in me and Roy. My boy will be better than we are. Sometimes I wish I could go back in time just to hold him in my arms like I used to, softly humming while he fell asleep, living the illusion of what it would be like to be his mother for at least those first years of his life. For the rest of the years, I became a thief, surviving by observing his development from afar, piece by piece. I love him so much that I kept pushing myself away from him. I wasn’t a mother; I was a destructive creature, just like she was, and I would slit my wrists before causing any damage to my son’s life. To me, the greatest act of love I could give him was to let Jon walk another path, far from mine. My hand reaches out, unable to stay away from him any longer, and I gently stroke his hair.
“Already?” I look apprehensively at Jonathan, whose expression shows no emotion but raises an eyebrow, staring at me.
“He’s at the age to start school, Baby. To get a good education and develop his intelligence.” Jonathan is a robot, a cold creature without empathy, treating those around him as mere numbers.
“I thought we’d wait a bit longer. He still sleeps with me, Roy, every night…”
“That was your choice, Baby.” His voice is hoarse and emotionless, condemning me.
Yes, I know I chose to send Jon to a boarding school, away from all the evil surrounding our family. But it happened too quickly; time was treacherous, passing as swiftly as a hummingbird. I want more days, more seconds. It’s not Jon who’s unready; it’s me who’s not ready to leave his life completely.
“Jon will leave with Aunt Charlote this week for Germany. She’ll stay with him for a while until he adjusts to the full-time school.”
“Let me go then. I’ll stay. I don’t mind staying with him in Germany, I can find something there, maybe…” My smile fades as he looks at me skeptically.
“From my point of view, Germany would be the last place a transgender person would want to live, Baby.” My fists clench as I look at the floor, my vision blurred by tears. “The longer you stay with him, the more painful it will be to part. Keep that in mind and make your decision.”
Roy turns his back on me, looking at the painting on the wall. His breathing is calm, without remorse or empathy for my suffering. He leaves the final decision to me. I leave the office with my destiny set: I will leave the island. I’ve bought a house in Italy. Jon will be happy, and so will I. We will start over, a life just for us, without Jonathan’s cold heart, without Aunt Charlote or Lorane’s curse, just me and him. There will be no past. I will have the courage my mother didn’t have. If she loved another man, why didn’t she divorce my father? Why didn’t she leave with us and live her life? They had destroyed everything! I won’t fail like my mother did! I won’t be a bad mother to my son! I don’t remember much about mine, but I know she loved us. Every mother loves her children. The packed suitcase is already ready in the bedroom; I will leave tonight. I’ve locked myself away long enough. It’s time for Baby to see the world, but it will be with my son by my side.
I search Aunt Charlote’s room for Jon’s birth certificate, looking through all the documents, rummaging through boxes and the back of her wardrobe. The old trunk she bought in Egypt is hidden among the coats. I drag it out quickly, hoping to find what I’m looking for. I need to leave her room before she returns and starts another screaming match. When I open the trunk, I don’t find documents or photos but an old, dusty teddy bear. I smile, looking at it. It must have belonged to Aunt Charlote when she was a girl. I reach for the trunk, pulling it out, but something falls from the bear when I lift it, making a thud on the wooden floor. My hand reaches out, pulling what fell, and I see a tape labeled “Sonja.”
“Mother?” I discard the bear, running my fingers over the handwriting with her name.
I glance at the door, gripping the tape tightly. If I’m not mistaken, there should still be a VHS player with an old TV in the attic. I get up, rushing to the attic. My face feels hot. I don’t remember her face or features. Aunt Charlote said she didn’t know where her photos had gone. My fingers tremble along with my body as I press the player’s button, walking to the door and closing it. The dark TV screen disheartens me. Perhaps time has damaged the footage. I just want to see her face, even if just once.

" Damn! — I walk over to the cassette player to remove the tape, but the moment I bend down, the TV screen lights up.
My knees buckle to the floor, my body slowly collapsing as I vaguely recognize the room. The camera was filming the entire room. When a movement occurs, stopping in front of the lens, my fingers immediately raise, palming the black and white screen of the television. God, she was beautiful! So delicate, with soft features, a sweet smile, cradling a cuddly little boy in her arms. I raise my fingers, wiping the tears from my eyes as I recognize myself in that scene with her, who is placing soft kisses on my forehead. It is so strange to look at that scene. She was an important person in my life, but I no longer knew what she looked like, and now I see her, as real as if I were in the room. A woman dressed in a white uniform enters the room and stretches her arms out to me. Gently, my mother hands me to her, kissing my head. I lower my face, raising my fingers and stifling a sob of pain. The date in the corner shows that the video was recorded the day before her death. She doesn't look at the camera, as if she doesn't know it's there. The nanny leaves the room, taking me with her, and I let my gaze get lost in the woman's gentle movements inside the room. Her thin arms hug herself, cradling her body, looking at the floor and rocking back and forth. Her hair, which falls over her face, becomes like curtains, hiding her eyes. She shrinks even more, hugging herself tightly, as if she's holding herself back from collapsing. It's as if she's waiting for something or someone. Her thin wrist raises, looking at the small clock.
Her arms let go, turning her face to the window and running towards it, looking outside, waiting for something. I see a wide smile forming on her lips when she turns around, leaving her attention on the door. I straighten myself on the floor, approaching the TV screen, trying to see who arrived that made her smile so happily.
The camera only catches the small shadow as he approaches. I smile, pushing my hair back, seeing Jonathan so chubby, with his black hair slicked back, all neat, not at all resembling the cold man he has become. Mom opens her arms to him, kneeling down and waiting for him to come to her. But the little boy doesn't go, he remains still, looking around, distracted. She says something to him, which makes him smile, and his little body moves, approaching softly, hiding his face in her curly hair. In return, Jonathan gets a tight hug, which holds him close to Mom's body. She pulls away, caressing his face with so much love in her eyes, admiring him, that I see her black pupils looking at him intensely. She lifts Roy's chubby hands to his face, to cover her own eyes, smiling at him. Jonathan remains like that, holding his hands in front of his face as she stands up. I've never seen him laugh, never seen him play or express any happy trait that could show that that boy was still there. Mom runs to the closet, hiding from him, leaving only a part of the door open. The little man takes a while, still covering his eyes, until he lowers his hands and looks around, looking for her. I breathe slowly, smiling at the beautiful image of my brother. Roy looks at the room, looking around, but only turns around when her hand appears in the small crack she left open. Her thin wrist shakes, calling him with gestures of her fingers. Roy walks over there, disappearing inside the closet with her. I dry my eyes, inhaling the air calmly, and analyze every corner of the room that only had vague memories. The photo frame next to the bed catches my attention. It's a photo of Dad hugging her, smiling lovingly. I've never seen that photo of the two of them. I wanted to know where Aunt Charlotte hid it, because she was definitely the one who took the photographs. I look away from her to the wall with the flowered wallpaper, stopping at the dressing table full of creams and perfumes. I smile when I realize how much I look like her in this. The more cream I have, the more I want. The image in the mirror's reflection makes my smile slowly die, while I feel my heart stop beating. I clearly see, through the crack in the closet that was left open, her hands holding Jonathan's small face between her fingers and kissing him intimately. It's not a maternal kiss, much less a chaste one. Sonja is kissing him possessively, passionately. She moves, letting the camera film her hair falling down her bare back. My body stiffens, making me shake my head against what I'm seeing. I follow her hand down Roy's naked body, until it stops on his genitals, caressing him while still holding him in a kiss. My face falls to the side, along with my body, slapping my hand on the floor and throwing my lunch out of my belly, in front of the sick what gives me. I vomit with disgust, with pain, with shock at the scene I see.