Malex Fic - I can’t get the language right
This is a late response to the May prompt of ‘Missing Mom’ on @alexguerinappreciation.
I can’t get the language right on AO3
Title from “Part of the Band” by The 1975
Summary: It’s a generic card - drawing of a wedding cake on the front, one line message inside - “Wishing you a lifetime of happiness.” But it’s the signature that leaves both of them speechless. Loopy handwriting in blue pen spells out “Love, Mom.”
When Alex and Michael get back from their honeymoon, Isobel has their mail separated into three piles labeled - “might be important,” “probably junk,” and “cards: do NOT throw these away. Rosa wants to make you something and she will kill me if you throw these away.”
“Nice to know there’s someone your sister is afraid of,” Alex laughs when he reads the note.
“Do you want to be the one to tell Rosa we forgot about the personalized gift she wants to make us?” Michael asks.
“Nope,” Alex says quickly. Rosa had been very clear about what she wanted, and Alex couldn’t wait to see what she created for them.
They don’t bother with the mail until after they’ve showered and had dinner. The junk and maybe important piles are dealt with quickly since most of the mail marked as important is also junk. They open the cards together, Alex recording them in a notebook Maria gave him for keeping track of wedding details.
Michael teases him when he brings it out. “Please tell me we don’t have to send thank you cards to people for cards.”
“No,” Alex reassures him. “It’s just nice to remember.”
Michael’s expression softens, and he squeezes Alex’s hand before opening the first card. It’s not a big pile, most everyone who mattered was at the wedding. Some are from people Alex works with at Deep Sky, there are a few from people he served with although he’s not sure how they even know he’s married, there are names Michael recognizes from odd jobs he’s done over the years, and one signed from Linsday with a heart over the “i,” who Michael once had a month long friends with benefits relationship with.
The card after Lindsay’s is addressed to “Alex Manes and Spouse.” Michael laughs when he reads it, “Maybe this is from one of you exes.”
“Not likely,” Alex snorts, watching while Michael flips the card over and carefully opens it.
It’s a generic card - drawing of a wedding cake on the front, one line message inside - “Wishing you a lifetime of happiness.” But it’s the signature that leaves both of them speechless. Loopy handwriting in blue pen spells out “Love, Mom.”
“Guess it’s yours after all,” Michael tries to joke. When Alex doesn’t react, he clears his throat and starts again. “Did you?”
“No,” Alex jumps in, “I didn’t.” He doesn’t finish, but Michael nods, understanding what he doesn’t say. Maybe if the wedding hadn’t been a rush, if they had really planned any of it, he would have thought about his mother. But he never would have done anything without talking to Michael.
Michael turns the envelope back over and studies it. “Surprised she kept your dad’s name,” he says, tapping at the return address.
“M. Manes” is written in the same blue pen above an address Alex knows is about an hour from Greg’s. He’s not surprised she’s so close since Greg told him he’d met her for dinner a few times. The name is a surprise though. “I didn’t know. She never,” Alex trails off and sighs.
“It’s ok,” Michael says softly, reaching over and taking Alex’s hand. “Let’s see what else we got.”
Alex sets the card from his mother aside, separate from the pile they are saving for Rosa. But when Michael reaches for the next card, Alex stops him. It feels wrong to continue. Going through cards was supposed to be fun, another chance to remember their wedding, but now there is a weight over them, the specter of his mother and things left unsaid.
“I’ll be right back,” Alex tells Michael then walks back to his office. Once there, he takes a manila envelope out of the bottom drawer. He hates that this is all he has to show Michael, not even enough to put in a box. But it’s all he has, and he knows Michael will understand.
Michael is waiting at the table when Alex gets back, but he’s cleared away the mail and all the cards, but the one from his mother. He gives Alex an encouraging smile when he sits back down.
“She never included an address before,” he explains as he takes four cards out of the envelope and places them on the table. “I never knew where she was.”
Michael nods, but doesn’t pick up the cards. “You talked to her, though right? About Project Shepherd?”
“Yes, but I didn’t call her directly. I left a message with one of her cousins, and she called me back from a private number. It wasn’t,” Alex hesitates, not sure how to explain. Michael knows he could have traced the number if he wanted to, but he hadn’t. “It wasn’t a personal conversation.”
When Michael doesn’t reach for the cards, just waits to see what Alex wants to do, Alex hands them to him one by one. He keeps them in chronological order and lets Michael know when each was sent. “When I started high school,” he says when he hands Michael the first card in the pile.
Michael turns the envelope over in his hand, looks to see as Alex has said there was no return address. He’s careful with the card, gently pulling it from the envelope and returning it with just as much care once he’s read it. It only takes a few seconds to see what is there, or more glaringly what isn’t there.
“My sixteenth birthday, graduation, this one came when I was in rehab,” he hands the last card over to Michael, aware how small the pile of four cards must seem. There are all simple, basic messages - “Good Luck,” “Happy Birthday,” "Congratulations” and “Get Well Soon.” The insides are bare save whatever generic message the card came with and the same signature each time, “Love, Mom.” There are no personal messages, not even his name written inside.
When Michael hands them back to him, hands gentle as if they are somehow precious, he adds, “She sent me a sympathy card after Dad died. I threw it away.”
That gets a laugh and smile from Michael before he turns serious again. “Do you think there were more Jesse never gave you?”
“No.” The answer’s easy because Alex thought about this a lot when he was younger. “Dad was really weird about Mom. Once she was gone, he never spoke about her, not once. I remember one morning we woke up and she wasn’t there, Dad got us ready and took us to school, and when we got home, everything of hers was gone. He told us she had left and wasn’t coming back, and that was that.”
“You must have had questions,” Michael prompts him.
“Yeah, but by then we knew not to ask. He never talked about her, but he never criticized her either, just pretended she never existed. But when the cards came - Clay was the first one - he just handed them to us and walked away. It was hard to figure out the pattern, we all got the same ones, and every time Dad just gave them to us.”
“That is weird for Jesse,” Michael agrees.
“I think he loved her, as much as he could love. They were together before Tripp died, before Harlan fed him his poisoned theories and brought him into Project Shepherd. Maybe that’s why she stayed as long as she did, she remembered who he was before.” Alex shrugs. He’s not sure any of that matters. His mother left and his father was abusive. How their story started doesn’t change any of that.
Alex picks up the card and stares at the return address before setting it down with a sigh.
“Why do you think she included her address this time?”
“She’s been talking to Greg, maybe he convinced her to let me know where she is.” The uncharitable part of Alex wondered if she knew Greg would tell him if he asked so there was no point in hiding, but he doesn’t say that out loud.
“What do you want to do?”
“What can I do?” Alex asks. “It’s been over twenty years. Am I just supposed to show up at her house and what, talk?”
“Maybe, if that’s what you want,” Michael shrugs. “Maybe this is her way of reaching out, of letting you know she’s ready.”
“I don’t know if I’m ready.” It comes out sharper than he intended - brittle and defensive. Alex sighs, hating how emotional he still gets when he thinks about his mother.
“Then you’re not ready,” Michael shrugs like it’s that easy. “You don’t have to be ready just because she might be.”
“I don’t want to be angry,” Alex admits. Michael drops a hand to his thigh and squeezes gently, silently encouraging him to continue. “Leaving was the right decision. I understand why she did it, and I’m glad she got out, that she didn’t have to suffer.”
“That she didn’t have to suffer like you did,” Michael finishes for him quietly.
“Yeah,” Alex agrees, shifting uncomfortably in his chair. “It was the right decision for her, I know that. Hell, if anyone should understand, it should be me. I did the same thing to you - left you behind when I couldn’t stand to stay.”
“It’s not the same thing,” Michael cuts him off quickly. He doesn’t sound angry, just frustrated. “I had my own ways out, I made my own decision to stay. You didn’t leave me in his house, at his mercy. You were my boyfriend, Alex, not,” Michael stops, runs a hand through his hair and takes a breath. “You were my boyfriend, not my mother. You weren’t responsible for my safety. You can understand why she left and still be hurt and angry that she left you behind.”
“She didn’t have a choice,” Alex shakes his head. “Dad never would have let us go. His wife leaving was bad enough, but he would have fought her, brought us back one way or another. She did the right thing.”
“Alex,” Michael says, then he waits, infinitely patient.
“I don’t want to be angry,” Alex finally repeats because it’s the only thing he knows. When he thinks about seeing his mother, all he can imagine is all the pain and hurt he’s been hiding coming out in accusations and recriminations. It scares him,and he doesn’t want to be that person.
“She might have done the best thing for her, but it doesn’t mean it was the right thing for you. It’s alright to be angry,” Michael says gently. “It’s alright to not want to see her or talk to her. She might be ready to reach out, but it doesn’t mean you are. It’s up to you, not her, how you respond or if you just want to ignore it.”
“Up to me?” Alex laughs. Something about that brings some of his anger to the surface, but he’s not afraid because he knows it’s safe with Michael. “None of this has ever been up to me. She left - no goodbye, no note. She was just gone. And by the time I got used to that, she sent Clay the first card. I thought she was coming back, but she didn’t. And every time, even after I knew better, I’d start looking for her. At the grocery store, in the school parking lot, in the stands at Greg’s basketball games, at my graduation. But she was never there. This is all I have of her,” Alex picks the cards up and shoves them back in the envelope. “I don’t know what they mean. I never have.”
“Hey,” Michael takes the envelope from Alex’s hands and sets it back on the table. “Let’s leave this for tonight. You don’t need to do anything right now. Just come to bed, let me take care of you.”
Alex follows Michael back to their bedroom. He lets Michael hover as they get ready for bed, lets Michael hold him and whisper how much he loves him into his skin. It feels selfish, but Alex would do the same for Michael, has done the same for Michael so he stays in Michael’s arms until the hurt and anger fade away. Until he remembers that he’s loved now and that’s what matters.
Alex thinks of his mother often over the next few weeks. Time doesn’t bring clarity, he’s as conflicted about how to respond to her card as he was when he first saw it. He thinks about calling Greg, but he doesn’t want to interfere with whatever relationship Greg is trying to build with her. It’s not fair to ask Greg to interpret her motives,and he doesn’t want Greg to feel like he needs to pick sides.
He ends up in the card aisle at the grocery store trying to find a card that doesn’t say too much, isn’t a confession he’s not ready to make, before his ice cream melts. He settles on a card with a watercolor bouquet of wildflowers on the outside and the simple message, “Thinking of you” on the inside.
Michael finds the card when he’s helping Alex unload the groceries. He wrinkles his nose at the muted bouquet on the cover, “I hope this isn’t for me.”
“No,” Alex comes up behind Michael, wraps his arms around him and kisses his neck. “You know I’m always thinking about you.”
“You’d better be,” Michael teases. He turns in Alex’s arms and kisses him sweetly, then nips at his lip before going back to the groceries.
Alex takes the card and sets it on the coffee table. He goes back to the kitchen and doesn’t think about it. He doesn’t think about it while they debate about dinner before finally making pasta. Or after dinner, when they meet Isobel and Kyle at the Wild Pony.
Maria started experimenting with a trivia night while they were on their honeymoon, and Isobel convinced them to play together. She hands them T-shirts that say “Team Alien Lovers” in rainbow glitter as soon as they sit down. Michael threatens to leave until Isobel promises to pay for all their drinks. They crush the other teams and come home laughing and buzzed and Alex doesn’t think about the card at all.
He’s still not thinking about the card the next morning when Michael joins him in the shower, and he’s almost late for work. When he gets home, he can’t help but notice the bright yellow envelope on the table, but Michael comes in right behind him with take out from the Crashdown. They eat dinner outside and spend the night by the fire pit Alex had put in as a surprise for Michael. He thinks of nothing but how happy he is and how much he loves his husband.
Friday is an early day for Alex, and he’s home a few hours before Michael. He normally fills the time with chores or working on his personal research projects, but he’s too restless to settle on one thing. He moves from room to room, half heartedly starting something only to end up back in the living room staring at the blank envelope. Alex finally gives in and picks up the card, sitting at the table and intending to fill it out quickly.
He’s still there when Michael gets home. Michael must have said something when he comes in, but Alex doesn’t hear him. Instead, Michael’s hands on his shoulders are his first indication that he’s not alone. He relaxes into the touch, smiling when Michael kisses the back of his head. When Michael starts to move away, Ales grabs his hand and tugs him into the chair next to him.
Michael sits with him, one hand between his shoulder blades in support, while he flips the pen between his fingers and tries to figure out what to say.
“It’s Alex Guerin now. I took Michael’s name when we got married. He’s the best part of my life, and I want him and everyone else to know it. He’s brilliant and kind and loyal and beautiful. I want to say I know you would love him, but I don’t know. I don’t know enough about you to know how you will feel about him. I don’t know if you will care that he’s a man or that he’s not Native. I don’t know if you can love me let alone Michael.”
He thinks it, but he doesn’t write any of that.
“I feel like I should say I miss you, but I don’t know if that’s true. It’s been so long I don’t know if I miss you or if I miss the idea of you. I told Michael I don’t want to be angry, and I’m trying not to be. But sometimes anger is easier than hurt or fear. And I know I’m afraid to see you again, afraid of what I might say or feel. Afraid of what you will think of me, if you’ll be disappointed.”
He doesn’t write that or this either:
“I always wondered what happened to you. If I ran away to the Reservation, would I find you there? Or were across the country or even on another continent. Did you get married again, did you have other children? I used to imagine you married a millionaire or a prince and you would come rescue us, but you never did. I held on to that dream for a long time, longer than I should have until Dad finally beat all hope out of me. I always imagined you were happy, happier than I was. If you were then you made the right decision. You choose your safety and happiness over mine, and I always wanted to believe it was worth it even though it hurt. I don’t know if it will hurt more to find out that it’s true or to learn that you haven’t been happy, and we both suffered alone. I don’t know if I’m brave enough to find out.”
When Alex finally figures out what he does want to say, he writes it quickly before he can change his mind. Once the card is ready to go, he turns to Michael, “What now?”
Michael smiles and kisses him softly. “How about we go for a ride?”
He drives them to the post office, and waits patiently for Alex to get the courage to mail it.
“Thanks,” he says to Michael once he’s done.
Michael looks at him carefully, “Are you ok?”
“Yeah, I am,” Alex tells him honestly. “Let’s get out of here.”
He threads his fingers through Michael, squeezing his hand as they head back home. Alex realizes he’s looking forward to the weekend. They have no plans, but he’s sure they’ll come up with something. For tonight, they’ll cook together, spend the evening relaxing and making love. Then they’ll sleep in and wake up together and fill the hours together.
Sometime next week, his mother will get the card he sent. But now that it’s mailed, he feels nothing but relief. Maybe it will be a beginning or maybe nothing will change. Either way, Alex has said all he can for now, writing simply, “Love, Alex.”
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