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Theresa was not a perfect mother.
She lost her temper often and blamed it on her blood for being too hot and passionate, strong enough to overtake any good senses.
Sometimes she yelled at her kids when a cooler head, a more gentle touch would have provided a bigger difference.
Sometimes she had a hard time apologizing afterwards.
Sorry wasn't something she got much of in her own youth. Not until after things truly escalated. Not until she'd ran from 'home' and her family had to save face in the aftermath of her 'tantrums' and 'overreactions.'
Theresa was starting to grow a deep contempt for that sort of thing; the concept of caring more about what people thought of one's family then what one's family felt themselves.
Could that be why she's kept her mouth shut thus far?
Oh if Theresa had opened up to all the other mothers on her half-abandoned blog about this situation of hers all but one, maybe two of her nearly two thousand readers would label her insane for it.
They would rise from the realm of dead follower lane to admonish her for not stepping in as a good mom 'should' and setting 'boundaries' between her children.
Those parents lived in their own world, mundane and typical as a walk in the park on a Sunday morning and their viewpoint might have been sensible and sound there when clouded by their own singular experiences.
Theresa saw clearly though, what she'd done to her own family.
Her split from Jerry wasn't one thread breaking. It was many.
She saw how Alex and Justin fell from the web at the start and spiraled downwards to their own lonesome ways north east and sometimes west.
Even her baby Max, always surrounded by his friends came home early in the morning with the smell of smoke on his clothes looking bereft.
Theresa got on him about the cigarette smell once but when he told her it wasn't from him she just...relented and let it go because she couldn't bring herself to get on her honest and sweet boy about a single lie that began with her own fault.
Max felt the need to use those cigarettes in order to cope, after all, and he needed to cope because she couldn't keep her marriage together for her kids.
Not even for her precious son who used to sit on her lap when he was a small baby and tell her that he'd have a wife just like her one day while promising that he'd always take care of her, "like papa did."
Theresa was proud of him. She was proud of all three of them and there were very few things stronger than a mother's pride.
When Jerry told her with tensed, short words the morning after one of their awful fights how the boys had fled from the apartment just as soon as Alex did and rushed through the New York streets to make sure their sister was okay, Theresa got a burst of relief that at least...at least she'd raised her kids to rally together when shit hit the fan.
Her heart had swelled with something good even while her head swelled and pounded with a massive headache instead. Theresa slept most of that afternoon and evening away so she wasn't around to see the shift.....the shift that happened between her children.
The day after, however, it was all but obvious to her that something was different.
Their new bond wasn't one of mere survival like three cousins binding together at a family reunion while their older relatives talked about their bad takes on politics and laughed way too loud at things that weren't even funny.
Theresa had been a little girl smack dab in the middle of that once, twice, five times over and never did she run her hands underneath her relative's shirt and whisper in their ear when she thought nobody was looking.
(When would her kids understand that the eyes in the back of her head statement was not a joke nor a metaphor?)
In the weeks that followed Theresa's thoughts were secured firmly before she ever got substantial concrete 'evidence' of her 'theory.'
Her children were absolutely infatuated with each other.
Max would jump out of his seat; scrambling to his feet when Alex idly walks down the stairs on her phone and the boy would practically puff out his chest when she didn't need him to do something for her but he rushed to do it anyways.
He had that same starry eyed look any young boy did when they had a crush on a pretty girl and he looked at Alex in that way Theresa always hoped a boy would look at her daughter. Even months in, he still kept that gaze of longing and adoration.
Justin was a pillar of strength: a cliche statement for an eldest sibling that didn't make the reality of it any less true. Though in what ways? There were too many instances for Theresa to count them.
She can't imagine the places he went to in order to obtain this newfound intuition. It was the kind that knew to guide Alex and Max away from the island counters seconds before she just had to respond as passive aggressive as possible to something Jerry implied in a wayward text she'd been stewing over for hours.
Theresa also couldn't fathom how he anticipated Max running through the front entrance quicker than she could even react to the hurried footsteps approaching them and casually sweep the things Max would trip over out of fhe way many moments before the door even swings wide open and bangs against the wall.
That Justin does not make nearly as much of a fuss over it as she would; simply coming over to ruffle the boy's hair, wipe some sweat from his brow, and tell him to be more careful showed a formidable patience she never managed to have.
It was a virtue that turned the bravado Max tried and failed to have with Alex into a fine mush for Justin whilst he moved to lean his head on his older brother's chest in security, only stopping when he remembers Theresa is still in the room.
With Alex? Well, Theresa's daughter was not one to change for anything including and especially a relationship.
When Theresa commended her on that once Alex had simply shrugged and told her pretending would be too much effort and, besides, why would she want to date someone who was basically seeing another person inside her body? Creeeeepy.
It had made Theresa laugh and shake her head both in awe and amusement. For being a young lady in such a tumultuous society Alex had always had her head on straight when it came to knowing herself.
This being said Theresa was not surprised there was no sudden change in her behavior. Alex did not start to giggle and swoon or pop her feet into the air daintily when Justin or Max arrived no matter how hard she did blush when Justin called her a princess in a way that sounded neither affectionate nor derogatory, simply a statement of their truth.
Alex did not intuitively know how Max would finish one of his whackier statements but she sometimes figured out quicker than Theresa did why they even started to begin with.
No, when it came to Alex it was more about what she now refused and how she fought against them.
Theresa remembers the way she had to intervene and tell Alex to watch her language over the phone when one of her daughter's friends Theresa never liked insulted Justin through the speaker, unaware both that his mother was overhearing this conversation.....and how Alex would respond.
Theresa had stopped stirring her sad attempt at a "special family dinner" to watch Alex's features grew terse, her eyebrows digging deep into her face before she told the girl exactly what she thought of the comment, then where and how deep the girl could shove her next opinion so nobody else had to hear it.
Frankly, her use of the phrase 'gaping vagina' was more clever than anything Theresa would have come up with.
The point was that, Alex was never going to be afraid to fight for Justin and Max. Her brothers, and her lovers. She had always been a rebel, the first to lead the charge for her own cause and that was never going to stoo.
Hell, even if Theresa had sat them down and tried to stray them from the path they were taking Alex would dig her combat boots into the rug and become an immovable force that protected all three of them. She'd damn the backlash and grow ten feet tall just to stare it down defiantly.
She would not even need to use her magic, though, if Theresa tried to force the issue she had no doubt that Alex would do the same and use everything she had at her disposal. She'd use her resolve, her passion and her wand to stop the three of them from ever being pulled apart.
Theresa should have been like her but when it really counted under pressure that blood of hers, "powerful" and passionate enough to snap at her kids and lose its temper was so weak that it went icicle cold; revealing itself as fake and placid all along.
It had been unable to do anything but watch her own love crumble at wasteside.
Theresa did not want her daughter to feel that way.
The very same way that she did now.
She did not want to stomp her children's roots out for a second time.
It was an unexpected way to grow but their life had never been traditional.
If she had to be the mother that would harbor mayhem in order to see her children thrive than for once, she would not put up a fuss.
Theresa would allow that chaotic nature that was always present in her household to sow for once as she left it in Jerry's oblivious care. She would not try and stop it or resent deep down that her family was not 'normal.'
She was done with 'normal.'
She craved well-being, wellness. If not for herself, then for her children.
They'd found such harmony together; created pillars...and sometimes even forts of love with one another. Alex, Justin and Max built a beautiful home on top a foundation of brother-brother, brother-sister trust...
And if anyone, anyone but themselves tried to tear that down then they would see the only thing stronger than a mother's pride...
Her wrath.