Father came home tonight. He greeted the servants, gave his coat to the man Ronald is training to be his successor and went directly to supper.
I was so shocked, I just stood there, even when he asked me how I and Spado and Mother had been doing for the past few weeks.
As if nothing had changed. As if Mother was still pale and sleeping in his bed.
It made me mad.
But when I was about to yell at Father, he turned away as if he wasn’t even interested.
What happened to my Father?
I don’t understand.
How can he go from a normal Father to...to...this thing?
This, what was that word that woman called Mr. Edwards again? Oh yes, callous bastard.
Mary was pushing me along to join Father at the table, so I followed him.
But I want you to know, Journal, I wasn’t happy about it. If Father wants to be this bad, then he can eat alone.
Most of supper was silent. Father was busy with his cheese and tea, and I was busy hating him.
Before he left, however, I felt I had to ask him what was on my mind.
You understand, don’t you Journal? I had to ask.
I had to try and understand.
I think I wanted there to be an explanation so much. Too much.
So I did ask him.
I asked him right as he was about to leave.
I asked him how he could hate Mother so much. I asked him what made him change his love into hate.
I don’t think I’ve ever seen him so angry.
It was different than last time. He didn’t yell, he didn’t throw anything, he didn’t hit me.
But he was silent for a long moment. And when he spoke, his voice was cold.
He said that I was wrong. He said that there was never any love between him and Mother, and that if it hadn’t been for me, Mother never even would have been here.
I don’t, I don’t understand Journal.
How could he say something like that? I know he loved Mother. I know Mother cared for him, too.
So how can he say that there was never any love between them? That the only reason they’re together is because of me?
What about the visits to the village? Mother helping Father solve some of the earlier problems with money? That time Mother fell asleep, and Father put his own coat over Mother so he wouldn’t get sick?
How could he say they never loved each other?
I asked him that. I pointed out these things, and I waited for him to give me the true reason.
I’m mad at him, and I think he’s been very bad to Mother, but it wasn’t always like this. If I could fix it, if I could fix what’s wrong so that things would go back the way they used to be...
We were a good family. I know it.
But Father shook his head.
He said that I had my head full of fanciful ideas, and that he clearly needed to begin training me in Templar affairs so that I would get rid of these fairytales.
Something’s wrong, Journal. More wrong than I thought.
His Mother's Son 17
Journal of Haytham Lee, aged 12
Father came home tonight. He greeted the servants, gave his coat to the man Ronald is training to be his successor and went directly to supper.
I was so shocked, I just stood there, even when he asked me how I and Spado and Mother had been doing for the past few weeks.
As if nothing had changed. As if Mother was still pale and sleeping in his bed.
It made me mad.
But when I was about to yell at Father, he turned away as if he wasn’t even interested.
What happened to my Father?
I don’t understand.
How can he go from a normal Father to...to...this thing?
This, what was that word that woman called Mr. Edwards again? Oh yes, callous bastard.
Mary was pushing me along to join Father at the table, so I followed him.
But I want you to know, Journal, I wasn’t happy about it. If Father wants to be this bad, then he can eat alone.
Most of supper was silent. Father was busy with his cheese and tea, and I was busy hating him.
Before he left, however, I felt I had to ask him what was on my mind.
You understand, don’t you Journal? I had to ask.
I had to try and understand.
I think I wanted there to be an explanation so much. Too much.
So I did ask him.
I asked him right as he was about to leave.
I asked him how he could hate Mother so much. I asked him what made him change his love into hate.
I don’t think I’ve ever seen him so angry.
It was different than last time. He didn’t yell, he didn’t throw anything, he didn’t hit me.
But he was silent for a long moment. And when he spoke, his voice was cold.
He said that I was wrong. He said that there was never any love between him and Mother, and that if it hadn’t been for me, Mother never even would have been here.
I don’t, I don’t understand Journal.
How could he say something like that? I know he loved Mother. I know Mother cared for him, too.
So how can he say that there was never any love between them? That the only reason they’re together is because of me?
What about the visits to the village? Mother helping Father solve some of the earlier problems with money? That time Mother fell asleep, and Father put his own coat over Mother so he wouldn’t get sick?
How could he say they never loved each other?
I asked him that. I pointed out these things, and I waited for him to give me the true reason.
I’m mad at him, and I think he’s been very bad to Mother, but it wasn’t always like this. If I could fix it, if I could fix what’s wrong so that things would go back the way they used to be...
We were a good family. I know it.
But Father shook his head.
He said that I had my head full of fanciful ideas, and that he clearly needed to begin training me in Templar affairs so that I would get rid of these fairytales.
Something’s wrong, Journal. More wrong than I thought.
I...
I can’t let things go on like this.
I must find out the truth.
I must find out what happened.
And I will fix this.