"Y'see Emma… the thing is, Nick… Nick wasn't always how he is now."
"What do you mean?"
"For you to understand, I have to first start from the beginning, all the way back to when his father was still alive."
"..."
"Y'see growing up, Nick really was a pretty normal kid. He spent his days playing with his friend Marc and eventually his little brother. The thing is, when he would come home, he wasn't always… the sunniest of children. He often would be silent, refuse to eat, and overall do nothing at home other than study. He would spend his days cooped up in his room until his dad or other made him come outside and play. Nick's father was also named Nick. He was a nice man, but he also had a bad side. I remember back when Nick was around 8, he heard me and his father arguing as we had left the door open. I remember distinctly what his father had said and while Nick pretends to not have heard it, I know he did, because from that point on, he had changed forever. During our argument, I threw blame at Nick's father for not being there enough for him and that that was the reason he was always in his room. In a rebuttal his father said this–– ' It doesn't matter how much time he spends studying there, he won't be good enough. He's a disgrace.' I felt disgusted and slapped his father for saying that about his own son. But after that, we both heard Nate run away from the hall and slam his door. He locked it and told his father that he couldn't come in. I came in and from the doorway was a terrible sight. Papers all on the floor, walls, and bed. There were notes and worksheets everywhere. In the trash bin, in the laundry hamper. Everywhere that he could see. And in the middle of all of that mess, there was a little boy. My Nick was curled on the floor crying. In the fetal position rocking back and forth muttering to himself, 'stupid. Stupid. Stupid. Weak.' I wanted to cry. I picked up one of the sheets of paper and looked at it. What was written on the paper, it broke my heart. Over the math worksheet originally on the paper, the words 'Worthless' were scribbled over them. Another sheet, and another sheet. Over and over, there were hateful, self degrading messages written toward himself. I looked at my little boy. An 8 year old curled up in all of this sadness, and I wept. I wrapped my arms around him and comforted him. 'It's gonna be okay Nick. Don't cry.' I think that had to be the moment that he stopped wanting to be called Nick. From that day forward, he only responded to Nate. A year and a half later, we got a call from the doctor. It had the results of a test his father took. The results said he had cancer. He had 4 months to live.
At 10, Nick took the news pretty harshly. He seemed like he was holding back tears. Even though he had garnered all of this hatred for his father, he still wept for him. On that day, Nick started to connect with his father more once again. They would play football together on Sundays, and he would show him the results of all of his tests. One day though, he talked to his father about something, and through the walls I heard Nick yell, for the first time in his life. 'Drop Dead!' He yelled and he left the house. He stayed at Marc's for a day or so, and when he came back home. Him and his father played football one last time. On that day, Nick threw the ball to his father and instead of catching it, his father collapsed. We took him to the hospital and while they were operating on his father he came to me crying. 'Momma, there's blood. It's everywhere help' and instead of understanding what he meant, I told him that he was perfectly clean. But looking back, I saw how terrible of an answer that was.
I'm sure this must have been a lot for you to take in, but I really hope this just helps you understand him a little more. I am not sure completely, but ever since about a week ago, Nick has been pushing himself a lot. He seems to be happier and although he is pushing himself so hard, he isn't letting anyone else see. So Emma please, don't let my son drown."
"Understood." I grabbed Mrs. James' hand, "I won't let him fall under the weight."
"Thank you… thank you so much." Nate's mom started to cry.
I left the room and looked at Nate as he sat there. I went up behind him and hugged him.
"Wha–– What are you doing Emma?"
"Shut up Nate."
I don't know why, but when I hugged him, He cried. He cried a lot. I think he needed to cry though. He grabbed my arm and pulled me in tighter. He must've really needed a hug.