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Kurt usually was successful at trying not to think about his mother. Sure, his fastidious skincare routine had begun as a way of deterring bathtime, but most children hate bath time, right? Kurt hated being seen as a child, even when he was one, and he mostly attributed his dislike of remembering his mom to the fact she had only been alive when he was a child. Were there memories Kurt was almost certain his father would be furious about, had he known? Yes, but Kurt was never sure who Burt would have been furious with - Kurt was a boy, after all.
No, Kurt didn’t think about his mother, or how she liked to watch him and help him clean himself, not outside of his nightmares. His nightmares had never mattered, until Kurt had the brilliant (horrible) idea of introducing his dad to Finn’s mom. Everything was a blur. Kurt wanted their shared room to work. Finn called the decor faggy. Dad threw him out and was shouting “He is my son!” the way Kurt had always secretly hoped Burt would react if Kurt ever told him what Elizabeth had done. Finn had made it up to Kurt, and soon enough they were sharing the basement again. Then the nightmares mattered.
“Kurt? What’s-" Kurt was tossing and turning, curled into a ball. Fin had woken up just as Kurt rolled off of his bed. “Kurt?”
“Mom?”
“What? No, it’s Finn. You okay?”
“Mom, no, don’t-" the words tapered off into snores as the dream faded into deeper sleep, leaving a confused Finn wondering what happened.
“Kurt? What happened last night?”
“I don’t sleep well this time of year.” Kurt didn’t say anything more, but that for some reason reminded Finn of something Kurt had said almost a month earlier, when Finn still thought Quinn was having his baby. “My mom died ten years ago and my dad still keeps her toothbrush in the holder by the sink.”
“Is this when your mom died?”
“Yeah. I don’t want to talk about it.” Kurt hoped that would be the end of the discussion. He should have known better than to trust Finn, however, because by the time they get to school Rachel is waiting by Kurt’s locker to express her condolences and hope Finn finds her sympathy for Kurt charming. Kurt wanted nothing more than to fall into the floor, more so when the brunette placed her hand on his shoulder and tried to compare their experiences. “I know I can’t really relate because I’ve never had a mom, but my grandmother died in July and sometimes I can’t see fireworks without crying.”
“I’m fine, thank you, Rachel.” Kurt didn’t cringe at her touch simply because he had practice in controlling his reactions, but he wanted to. He didn’t want to think about his mom, but by the time Glee club came around everyone knew. Finn was just babbling to anyone who would listen because Kurt’s nightmare had kept Finn from sleeping and the school needed their quarterback to get his rest! Honestly, what was wrong with Kurt? It had been ten years.
“You know, I’m here if you ever need to talk.”
“No, you’re not. We don’t even have the same lunch period this semester.”
“Well, Tina will be there if you need to talk during lunch.”
“I’m fine. Honestly.”
Kurt was, until his father remembered that the anniversary of her death was coming up. He hadn’t told Carole until he was reminding Kurt that they would be visiting the cemetery, and then Carole was all watery eyes and sympathetic touches that made Kurt feel like he was five years old contemplating if he could actually drown himself in the bathtub because at least then she couldn’t keep touching him.
“Kurt, buddy, you okay? I know this time is always hard for you.”
“Burt and I are here for you, sweetie.”
“I- I miss her.” Kurt wished that didn’t feel like a lie. He did miss his mommy, who would sing to him and taught him how to walk in heels and introduced him to Broadway. He just mostly missed her when she was sick, confined to her hospital bed, listening to Kurt talk about the tadpoles they were raising and the Vogue magazines in the waiting room. Kurt loved his mother most when she wasn’t able to mother him anymore, but he at least felt guilty about it. That meant he loved her, the fact he knew he was an ungrateful son.
Kurt’s nightmares didn’t wake Finn up the remainder of the week, but Finn still noticed Kurt’s exhaustion. It was hard not to. Kurt was moodier than usual, snapping at anyone who dared to take pity on him.
“Dude, just because your mom died doesn’t mean you need to replace her as the bitch of your family.” Puck said after Kurt denied his offer to skip class for a desperately needed nap in the nurse’s office.
“Stop talking about my mom! I never should have told Finn! I hate all of you!” Kurt was tired. Kurt was exhausted, aware later that afternoon he would have to feign nostalgia at memories that made him feel nauseated and depressed, and as he sat in math class, he realized he could not possibly survive unless he told someone. The only question was who would possibly believe him?
“Well, Tina will be there if you need to talk during lunch.” Mercedes had said, probably joking, but Kurt did need to talk. Kurt did need to confide in someone about what a horrible son he was, what a monster he was, how wrong everyone was for feeling sympathy and pity and believing he was grieving when he secretly enjoyed his mom more when she was sick.
“Tina.”
“Hey Kurt, h-how’re things?”
“Exhausting. Can we eat in the costume room? I want to talk to you about something that I don’t want the Neanderthals overhearing.”
“Sure. I’m honored not to be considered a Neanderthal.”
“You? The vampress who strikes fear into the heart of Figgins? No, you are ethereal, my friend.” Tina’s laugh made Kurt’s fake smile morph into a more genuine smile. He had friends, they were just horribly misguided.
“So wh-what - is this about what Finn told us? Because he had no right to spread your personal business like that, and I’ve made sure that the news doesn’t make it anywhere near JBI…”
“News? It’s not news, but yeah, Mercedes said you’d be willing to listen if I wanted to talk about my mom.”
“She’s right, I am. My mom was sick around the same time as Elizabeth, she was just lucky enough to recover, but I sort of know what you’re going through.”
“No you don’t. Nobody does. I’m not - Tina, you love your mom, right?” Tina nodded. “You’re happier now that she’s not dying of cancer than you were when she was hospitalized?”
“Of course!”
“You’re a good person. I’m- I’m not. I just don’t - it’s not that I don’t love my mom, but she’s been dead for more of my life than she was alive for, and of the parts she was alive for, all my happiest memories of her are from when she was sick.”
“That’s understandable. They’re the only memories you have.”
“No. I have earlier memories of my mom. They’re just not…” Kurt took a swallow of water. He wasn’t eating lunch, as he wanted to keep his spot on the Cheerios, but he needed to not have tears clogging his throat if he wanted to tell someone. Did he want to tell someone?
“You don’t have to explain yourself, Kurt. You’re entitled to all your feelings.”
“My mom used to love giving me baths. I hated it. Sometimes I think I might still be in the bath, that this entire life has just been one long daydream and she’ll be staring at me with a washcloth explaining how I still hadn’t cleaned myself properly down there.”
“I - that’s - I think I’d prefer my mom hospitalized too, if that was how she treated me when we were at home.”
“I don’t - she loved me. I shouldn’t be so freaked out by - I shouldn’t talk about this, I sound creepy and weird and I’m a man, she was my mom…”
“Kurt. Look at me. Whatever you feel, that’s how you should feel. You can’t control your feelings, they exist to help control your actions. You can feel however you feel about your mom; she won’t know. She’s dead!”
“She loved me.”
“That doesn’t make molesting you okay!”
“What’s this about molesting?” Ms. Pillsbury had been walking by at that moment, just in time to hear Tina almost shout at Kurt.
“N-nothing.” Tina stuttered, trying to take back what she had said. Kurt drank more water. Ms. Pillsbury couldn’t make the teenagers talk, so she eventually returned to her office.
“That was close.” Kurt said, wiping water off his mouth with his sleeve. “Let’s never talk about this again.”
“Okay. Want to help me sew more sequins onto the costumes?” Kurt nodded and did just that. Having told someone, Kurt was able to pretend more easily that afternoon. He remembered his mom and cried for who he had wanted her to be, and for who she actually was, and how different the two pictures were. Maybe someday he would tell his dad, but for now Kurt just returned to his basement bedroom and slept fourteen hours.