Stained glass memories

Jude

Thread by thread, I come apart
If brokenness is a work of art, this must be my masterpiece

An offer to listen is a rare thing in Caido. Maybe she doesn’t know that, or doesn’t see the value in it the way anyone else in this world would. His entire life he’s only seen the endless loop of selfishness and self-preservation play out before him. Different people, regions, believers - always the same mentality. At least until Noe. Jude had thankfully had the sense to grab onto her with both hands and refuse to let go because she’d turned out to be the best thing in his life so far. Maybe that means he needs to do it again here and now. Opening up isn’t something he likes to do, but his feelings and story are a worthless currency to her and everybody else. What is there to lose but his pride? He never had that to start. She can’t hurt him in a way that matters, not with the ammunition he stands to hand her.

“He was the greatest man I knew until the moment he wasn’t, and I don’t know which part of him was real. If the good he taught me, the love he gave me, means anything when he threw it all away in an instant.” On the counter his splayed fingers curl until his blunt nails catch on the faded wood of her island. Worn away by years of use and love. He wants to splinter and gouge it for all the envy and hurt it makes him feel, to see something so plain and unassuming remain nevertheless forever changed by the presence of love. Jude isn’t sure if he envies it or is horrified by it. This dull, stupid, worthless piece of wood. “He stayed when everyone else left. He changed his life for me, figured out being a single dad when he’d never even been just a dad before. He - I didn’t think I’d ever find someone kinder, more selfless, more loving.” His teeth grit until they ache, strangling the words as veins bulge in his neck with the exertion it takes to try and force down tears that spring hateful and hot to his eyes.

“I used to think all the garbage of my bad hand in life was worth it because we had each other. Because he loved me more than - more than the moon and stars, which were the only other things he loved.” Just as intangible and out of reach as the two women his dad had loved. How fitting. “And then he broke every promise, threw away everything, including me, and fucked off. Like he’d never loved me at all.” He utters a choked, angry noise that is too wet to be believed and drops his head into his empty palms to hide the tears and the equal parts fury and anguish twisting his face. “He only came back because I almost died, told me he loved me, and when I threw it in his face he went off and died instead. Like he was teaching me a lesson for not forgiving him.” 

The fuel of anger runs dry, the vitriol giving momentum to his sudden rush of words dropping out from beneath his feet. The anguish rises to meet him and his shoulders shudder beneath her arm as the crying starts in earnest. “I didn’t forgive him, and now he’s dead. And I still don’t know if he really loved me.”