Chapter Text
“Man is not, by nature, deserving of all that he wants. When we think that we are automatically entitled to something, that is when we start walking all over others to get it.”
- Criss Jami
|———-|
The last few notes of the Happy Birthday tune settled in the crowded room, with loud hoots, cheers, and screams replacing the song. The newly 22 year old Henry Alexander excitedly blew out the rainbow candles before twisting around in his chair and cheering along with the mass of friends, family, and neighbors.
After a few minutes of cake slicing and quieter cheers, Henry’s left sitting next to his best friends in the whole world; Mark and Angela. The two were both stuffing their faces with chocolate goodness, seemingly oblivious to the world around them as they ate. It reminded Henry of their high school years.
He was about to make a comment about exactly that before a familiar, shrill voice penetrated his ears. Thin arms were thrown around his neck from behind as his mother embraced her much larger son.
“Hey, baby!”
Henry grinned and stood from his seat so he could embrace her back. “Hey, momma. How’s Uncle Justin?”
“Oh, fine. That new girlfriend of his is a little bit of a stickler, but it’s honestly a miracle that he has a girlfriend to begin with.”
The two Alexanders shared a laugh. The two seemed to be caught up in a bubble whenever they spoke - it was like the rest of the world didn’t exist. Just the two of them.
“You know, you’re growing up to be real handsome. Hell, I might kick Dad out and use you instead.” Henry threw his head back and laughed at that, completely unaware of the oddness to the remark.
“Thanks, Mom. You’re not too bad yourself.”
“Aw, shucks.” His mother batted her eyelashes, pressing a palm to her chest in false humility. “Anyways, that’s enough about me. Can I get you anything, baby? Water? More cake?”
Henry shook his head. “Nah. I’m alright. Thanks, Mom.”
His mother seemed to falter at that for a brief moment before smiling again. “No problem, baby. I’ll be here if you need me.” With that, Beverly Alexander retreated from her son’s side and disappeared into the crowd.
“Dude, what was that?”
Mark’s voice broke Henry out of his trance. He’d forgotten that his best friends had been sitting there the whole time, watching the interaction.
“What was what?”
“You didn’t hear what she said to you? She looked like she wanted to crawl inside of your skin.” Mark hissed, grabbing Henry’s arm. “The way she talks to you freaks me out.”
“You’re being dramatic.” Henry’s instinctive response (to defend Beverly) shot out, causing the temperature of the room to plummet. “She’s not like that. We- We’re not like that.”
“He’s got a point, Hen.” Angela said softly, carefully stepping between Mark and Henry. “If my dad ever said he wanted to replace Mom with me because I’m ‘getting real handsome’, I wouldn’t call it dramatic to talk about it.”
Henry paused at that. He might not be the smartest person in the room, but he still knew deep down that what his mother was doing was odd. He opened his mouth to respond.
He was barely able to get a word out before Beverly swooped into the conversation. “Baby, get behind me.”
The group of friends was shocked by her sudden appearance. Where the hell had she come from?
Henry automatically placed himself behind his mother, head tilted down and eyes half closed.
“Mrs. Alexander-“
“That is enough from you both. I heard what you were saying about my family. I will not have you cause a rift between me and my baby boy. If I ever hear of you two doing this ever again, you will no longer be able to see my son. Is this clear?”
Mark and Angela stood frozen in front of the tiny wonman, unable to conjure a response.
Beverly nodded and grabbed Henry’s wrist. “Good. Come on, baby. Let’s go.”
Henry was dragged across the party room, out of sight of his best friends. He almost said something. He almost protested. He almost yanked his wrist out of her body grip - she was weak as a chick, he could easily overpower her - but he didn’t. He stood there like an idiot, allowing his frail mother to pull him out of his life.
Beverly abruptly turned and pressed her cold lips against his cheek. “You’re alright, baby. Those people are just trying to take you away from me. They’re jealous of us.”
Henry knew that she was bullshitting. He knew. He should have fucking done something about it.
But he didn’t. He nodded. “I know, Momma.”
“Good. No one will ever come between us again, you hear? You and me. Mom and Henry.”
Henry could feel the shackles forming, the bars rising from the ground around him, the chain binding him to his mother. He could feel everything. His brain was screaming at him to reject her, to go back to Mark and Angela. Maybe even leave.
“Mom and Henry.”
Henry opened his eyes and nodded. “Mom and Henry.”
|—— Five years later ——|
Henry took a deep breath. Opened and closed his eyes. Pressed his palms against the sticky taxi seat beneath him. Counted to ten.
He was woken from this moment by the familiar grumble of the taxi driver.
“That’ll be $10.”
Henry hums and hands the driver a wad of cash. “Thank you.”
The driver doesn’t respond. Henry hops out of the taxi and smooths the wrinkled fabric of his dress shirt. The sweat in his palms stains the fabric. He curses quietly before shaking it off and entering the resturaunt.
The League. One of the most exclusive resturaunts in town. Usually, Henry wouldn’t frequent places like this - way above his price range, plus the food wasn’t even all that good.
The only reason he’s here is because of her.
Morgan Highland. A girl he’d met in his economics class all the way back in high school. A girl who jsut so happened to attend the University of Michigan alongside him. A girl who he’d been dating for the past three years.
And, if tonight went well, his fiancée.
He stood in the entryway for less than five minutes before Morgan appeared, looking beautiful in a deep sapphire dress that brought out the blue undertones in her hair. She smiled when she saw him and placed her hand on his arm.
“Hey, honey.”
Just the sound of her voice eased him. Despite every single nerve in his body being alight, he returned her smile. “Hey. Ready?”
She nodded.
An employee led the two to the back of the resturaunt near the large bay window (per Henry’s request, he knew how much Morgan loved the stars) and poured them glasses of wine. Henry thanked him and he left the two of them (relatively) alone.
The dinner passed in a blur of laughter and shared grins. Time was always easier and quicker when Henry shared it with Morgan. He was ready for something that, five years ago, he’d never be brave enough to do. He was ready for her to be his, and him to be hers. Legally.
“So.” Henry said nervously. They’d just finished dinner and were just waiting for the check (which would absolutely floor Henry financially).
“So?” Morgan replied coyly, raising a brow in response.
Henry chuckled awkwardly. “I’m sorry. I’m all messed up today.”
“Aw, I’m sorry. Why’s that?”
“Well, um…” Henry’s sweaty palm fished in his pocket and found the relatively simple diamond ring within. “I, uh… have been thinking. A lot. I’ve… I’ve changed a lot in the last few years. And, well, you’re the reason I’ve changed so much. You… you helped me. You fixed me, I guess. You know how Mom was, and it’s been better nowadays since I have you.”
Henry stood on shaky legs before sliding to one knee.
Morgan’s eyes shot open.
“Morgan, you’re my everything. You saved me. You freed me. And, well… I’d like to re-pay you. I promise to take care of you and be there for you when you need it. I promise to love you for as long as we live. Morgan Highland, will you marry me?”
The words are barely out of his mouth before Morgan yelps her approval. Tears spring to both of their eyes as he puts the ring on her finger.
The hum of the resturaunt around them turns to applause and cheers.
Henry and Morgan spend the rest of the night in almost blissful glee, the buzz of the sucessful proposal leading to one od the best nights in Henry’s life.
He couldn’t be happier if he tried.
|—————|
“You did what?!”
A swirl of emotions takes over Beverly’s body as Henry recounts the events of yesterday. Apparently, her precious baby boy had excluded her from the wedding and gone off and gotten married - to goddamn Morgan Highland, of all people! With her perfect hair and her perfect body and her perfect personality.
How dare Henry?! They were supposed to be Mom and Henry. Mom and Henry. Mom and Henry. Ever since Christopher had left her four years
ago, she’d needed Henry more and more. That stupid bitch Morgan had gotten in the middle of Mom and Henry, and she was going to pay.
Beverly can’t stomach thinking about that whore for any longer. She hangs up the phone and tosses it across the room as if the phone was the source of the problem instead of Morgan - Morgan Highland-Alexander. That skank hadn’t even taken his last name!
Angry tears began to fall from her eyes as she stumbles into her bathroom. Her withering hands grip the sink, leaving imprints in her delicate skin.
She won’t let this happen. She can’t let them do this to her.
The worst part?
That stupid bitch was pregnant. She was going to be a grandmother. An old, withering, dying grandmother. It was supposed to be her next to Henry. Mom and Henry. Morgan didn’t know him the way she did. She didn’t change his diapers or nurse him or fucking birth him. Beverly had.
Henry was moving across the country to start a new life with his new family and his new wife. She was being replaced. Beverly could feel the rage settle into deep misery within her bones.
She flung herself on the bed and cried.
And cried.
And cried.
Until she no longer had tears to cry.
Until she was heaving and hacking and coughing and crumbling.
Until she had an idea.
Beverly Alexander shot up from the quilted sheets. She had just remembered something from a long, long time ago.
|—— Almost fifty years earlier ——|
“C’mon, Bev!”
The group of girls giggled and clutched the small cardboard boxes in their hands.
“Apparently, they’re supposed to grant a wish. Any wish. Evelyn wished for Thomas to love her back - poor girl, she wasted her wish. He’d been in love with her since the second grade. But they’re engaged now.”
Beverly held the small carboard box between her fingers. The box itself was red and white with red cartoonish drawings plastered on the surface. The back side had such fine print that she could barely read it. Something about the Willow not being cursed. She shuddered.
A One Wish Willow.
|——————-|
Beverly had never used the Willow. She’s a woman of God, and wishing for something (no matter how much she wanted it) felt wrong.
It’d been years since Beverly had prayed, or gone to mass, or even read the Bible. Christopher leaving her had made her lose faith in everything she held dear to her heart.
She couldn’t be happier that she didn’t use that stupid wish back in the seventies. She could use it now. Get her son back. Punish that whore and the devil spawn growing in her womb.
Beverly clawed through her closet, tossing blouses and skirts aside as she searched. Finally, she found the box - everything from her old life back in Texas. The Willow was nestled in the bottom; an old keepsake.
Her perfectly manicured nails tore through the packaging, the fine print destroyed and slashes torn through the faces of the cartoon wishers. She cracked the thin branch within in half.
Beverly didn’t even think to come up with the proper wording. She just spoke without thinking: “I wish that my son, Henry Alexander, needed me to live, like he used to.”
Silence.
Silence.
Silence.
Beverly sat back against the headboard, chest rising and falling.
Nothing had changed.
At least, not yet.
Maybe the wish would work. Maybe Henry would return to her. Maybe she’d get everything she wanted.
Mom and Henry.
Henry and Mom.
Forever.
(Well, if forever was one short week.)