This was not the first day that Charity had wished her husband was home, although there were admittedly not that many days she wished that. Things had been better and then they'd been bad, and then they were better again. She never really knew how Mathias was going to react to any given trigger, and unfortunately for her (she rubbed the hand-shaped bruises on her upper arms as she thought about it), CJ was a walking talking bundle of triggers. Well, sort of a toddling babbling bundle.
Still, at least Mathias could do more than hope the baby didn't suddenly stop floating ten feet above the ground, or didn't transfigure his vegetables into forks and things when they were in his stomach rather than just on his plate; he could help. Charity felt utterly useless as a mother in this regard, and was excited for him to be old enough that it wasn't such an issue. Evelyn had been almost normal by this age, although there were other reasons for that. She put thoughts of that aside with a cringe, and focused on the task at hand. Literally.
Charles James had been fascinated with the ceiling fan once they'd turned it on to move some of the warm Oregon air around the room. Usually, opening a window was enough; the coastal breeze kept them cool and fresh without the need for external aid. However, the weather had been a bit stagnant recently, and they were eager to open some windows and get some air flow going. Hence the college fan.
When the fan was on, the baby was content to lay on his back on the floor underneath it, occasionally giggling as small clouds formed around the fan blades and splattered magic rain on him. However, when it was off, he was determined to remedy the situation. Today's fix was to float causally to the top of the fan and lay on top of the blades. The ceilings weren't vaulted, and Charity had only been mildly concerned, resigned to fetching a chair to reach up and get him. However, when she did so, the fan had begun to move again and she was too afraid he'd fall if she got closer. So far, it seemed okay, but if he picked up any speed . . . besides, it wasn't totally clear how he was remaining atop the fan blades without breaking them anyway.
Charity had never been so frustrated with magic as she was now. When Evelyn was a girl, the magic had been solidly stamped out of her, if not intentionally. She'd been a normal little girl, with a normal personality. She was practically perfect, despite the horrors that got her there. Now, she almost wondered if it was the better way to go. At least Evelyn was pleasant to be around, and Charles James was hardly that.
She hated herself for thinking that. She hated herself for hating her child, and her husband. She hated herself for preferring her broken daughter to her perfect son, and she hated that she thought one of them was more perfect than the other. It was all too much.
Perhaps Charity Stones would just be gone for a little while. Perhaps she would come back the next day or the day after. Perhaps she wouldn't come back for months, or perhaps not at all. Whatever the case, Mathias returned home from work to find a baby laying contentedly on the floor under the fan, a half-empty closet, and a note.
Your turn to be a parent. Lord knows I can't be. Goodbye with love, Charity.