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Phoenix learned to cook after his Papa left. Mama couldn't always do the cooking, what with how Phoenix would come home from school sometimes and she'd be asleep on the couch, saying her head hurt or slurring her words when she told Phoenix to let her rest for a while.
A couple times when it happened, Mama ordered food or gave Phoenix money to run to the store and buy himself something he wanted. (Every time that happened he was so excited that he forgot to even be worried about Mama!) But then a day came where a few hours passed before Phoenix realized he was starving.
“Can't afford it,” Mama had murmured when he'd whined to her about his hunger, asking if they could order pizza or something. Her face had shifted to a frown, although she wasn't really looking at him. Maybe he'd been too loud. She didn't really like to be bothered like this.
It was disappointing. Phoenix knew they couldn’t afford things a lot of the time. There was a heaviness in his chest whenever he thought about it, pushing down and filling him with shame. Sometimes he couldn’t get lunches at school because of it. On that night, though, unable to ignore the hunger gnawing at his tummy for long, Phoenix went into the kitchen and tried to work out how to make food for himself and Mama.
Instant noodles were supposed to be simple. But somehow Phoenix made a big mess and they didn’t even taste good. Way too salty. And here he’d thought ‘one cup’ was a safe guess… Phoenix did try to clean up after himself. But he only really made it worse.
Phoenix got in big trouble the next day. It made sense, really. He’d made a big mess of the kitchen and the food wasn’t even good. He felt awful for upsetting Mama so much when she was having a hard time. But it happened again. And again. Phoenix found a cooking book at the library and started trying to teach himself out of it. He kept making messes (it was hard to navigate the kitchen at his size, even if he was some other kid that wasn’t so clumsy), but the food started to taste a bit better. And that helped Mama not be quite so upset with him about cleaning up after him.
The first real incident, though, happened on a day that began like any other. Phoenix had a good day at school, having fun working on a simple group assignment with his friends. He was relieved the teacher hadn’t picked their groups for them, cause nobody liked working with Phoenix except Miles and Larry. There’d been an incident a little while ago that made most kids not like Phoenix anymore. But it was okay now, since it’d had the opposite effect on Miles and Larry and Phoenix liked them.
They were able to walk part of the way together after school, and Phoenix was happy, so happy to be spending time with people who liked him and were nice to him. Saying goodbye to them and going his own way was bittersweet. He knew he would see them tomorrow at school tomorrow and all, but whenever he approached home on those last few blocks by himself, he felt so lonely. He felt lonely a lot, except with Miles and Larry. Maybe that’s why he was so attached.
Phoenix dropped the key by accident trying to unlock the door. He had clumsy, awkward fingers. Mama said the way he used his hands was strange. He hoped she didn’t mean in a bad way. Phoenix wanted people to like him. Well, already kinda too late for that…
The house was dark and quiet. It wasn’t very big, of course, even with Papa they hadn’t had the money for a nice or big house, but that made it almost all the more suffocating. The walls trapped Phoenix’s loneliness within them, pressing in and making him claustrophobic.
“Mama?” He called into the dark home, shaking the feeling off. Yesterday had been a good day, they’d had fun and played a game together, and even had snacks. The house had been warm then. Now it felt completely different. “I’m home!”
No answer. Just the silence, persisting through. Phoenix sighed. So today was a bad day. That was okay. If he had to cook, maybe he would get to try a new recipe! Even though he wasn’t that good yet, learning was still a lot of fun.
He went into the living room after putting his school bag down so he could check on Mama. Sure enough, she was there on the couch, passed out. Phoenix moved closer to her, although he didn’t dare wake her up. She’d be cranky and might yell.
She seemed pale. Was she sick, maybe? Phoenix bit his lip. He didn’t want to also get sick. Then he wouldn’t be able to go to school. Still, if she was sick he should make soup. Tomato soup made him feel better when he was sick, he remembered. He could try to do the same for Mama, now.
Phoenix rushed into the kitchen, pulling a chair from the table to stand on so he could look in the cupboards. He squinted at the selection of cans they had, since he was pretty sure Mama had bought some tomato soup recently at his request. It was so yummy, even when you weren’t sick. But Mama was maybe sick, so he needed it now. He spotted one at the back and leaned forward, one knee on the counter, to retrieve it.
Thankfully, the can had instructions for what to do, easy instructions. This wasn’t the sort of thing he needed a cookbook for. His cookbook was maybe overdue, actually… he’d have to bring that back. But not right now. Right now, he had to make soup.
It wasn’t hard at all, and he only spilled a little water on the floor trying to fill the pot. Now he just had to wait for it to cook. Proud of himself, he stood back. But his pride (and his cooking) were quickly forgotten when Phoenix heard a loud thud from the other room.
He rushed into the living room, freezing in his tracks shortly. Mama was not on the couch anymore.
She was on the floor, not moving. Eyes still closed like she was sleeping. How had the fall not woken her up? It had to hurt, right? Phoenix had rolled out of his bed before, in his sleep. It had hurt, a lot. Phoenix, hesitant and nervous, knelt down next to Mama, reaching out a tentative hand to tap her shoulder. Normally, she wouldn’t want to be woken up, but this was an emergency, right? He had to help her get back on the couch, and he couldn’t do that by himself.
“Mama?” He whispered, shaking her gently. “Wake up. You fell on the floor.”
She didn’t react. Didn’t wake up. Phoenix frowned. She wasn’t usually a particularly heavy sleeper. This was… it was weird. A horrible, nauseous feeling began to settle in his gut. He shook her again, more urgently.
“Mama, please.” He made himself louder. So she would hear him for sure. “You gotta wake up! Mama…?”
She was so still. It was almost like- no. Nonono. That wouldn’t happen, it could never happen. She was breathing, right? Right??? It was hard to tell, but there was a faint, shallow rise and fall. So then why wouldn’t she wake up? What was Phoenix doing wrong?
“Please!” The cry came out strangled, catching in his throat. He was on the verge of tears, he could feel it. Phoenix didn’t want to cry, what if he was just being overdramatic and she woke up right away? He tried to at least adjust her to a sitting position, leaning against the couch. She was heavy, so much heavier than him, but he managed it. She still didn’t wake up. “Stop it, stop it, just wake up!!!”
Phoenix couldn’t hold it in anymore. He fell back from her, sobbing, tears openly streaming down his cheeks. What was he supposed to do…? He didn’t understand what was happening. He needed an adult, someone who knew what to do and how to help. Phoenix wasn’t smart enough for this.
He could call someone. But most of the relatives he knew didn’t live that close, and he couldn’t remember their numbers. He knew how to call Papa, but he was out of state and might not answer anyway. Miles and Larry were close, but he couldn’t call them, either. He had to do something, there had to be someone-
There was someone. Another number Phoenix knew. 911! It had been drilled into Phoenix that it was super important to know that number, cause if something bad happened he could call and doctors in an ambulance would come and help. Phoenix jumped to his feet and ran to the phone, quivering as he dialed the number.
“911, please state your location and type of emergency.”
“Please- my Mama won’t wake up and I d-don’t know what to do!! Please help her, I-I don’t- s-something’s… I-I…” Phoenix couldn't get the words out. All he could do was stand there as another wave of sobs interrupted him. He felt so helpless, more than he ever had, maybe even more than when Papa had left.
“All right, can you take a deep breath?” The voice on the phone was soothing and gentle. Phoenix nodded even though she couldn’t see him, shuddering a deep breath in and out. It did help, a little. “Just keep doing that, okay? I’ll get help for your mom, you just need to help her out by answering my questions. Can you do that?”
“I- yes.” Phoenix swallowed. He had to do this. Mama’s life was in his hands. If he messed up here it would be his fault if she died. And then he’d be alone forever and nobody would ever even want to look at him. Not even Mr. Edgeworth would defend him if that happened. “Sorry.”
“It’s okay.” The voice reassured him. “Do you know your address?”
“Um- I live in the North end, I think… kinda near Echo Park? House number.. um..” Phoenix trailed off. What was it? He knew this! He’d needed his address before! Why was his head being so useless at the most important of times? “I don’t remember!!”
Phoenix fell into another fit of sobbing, forgetting his breathing. The 911 lady didn’t seem to be mad at him, though, thankfully. Even though he was making everything so difficult.
“Can you go outside and look at the number, then come back and tell me, then?”
“O-Okay.” Phoenix nodded a few times, trying to breathe again. He could do that. He knew how. He tried not to put the phone down too hard before darting away towards the front of the house. He couldn’t make himself go fast enough. He never was a very good runner.
He had to squint to read the numbers. The sun was setting. His heart felt like it was pounding out of his chest and he was having a hard time thinking but he just focused on those numbers so they wouldn’t disappear. He didn’t wanna have to come out here a second time, that would be really horrible.
He had it now. Desperate to share it and save Mama so that everything would be okay and not horrible forever, Phoenix ran back into the house, although that clumsiness came back for him once again when he tripped over the rug, landing flat on his face.
“Owwww…” He whimpered. That hurt. Phoenix rubbed at his aching nose, wishing he knew what was wrong with him that he always fell over like that. It was so embarrassing. But then he remembered that he couldn’t dwell on that, not at all. He had to get back to the phone before the lady hung up because he was gone for too long and he lost his only connection to help. He didn’t know what he’d do then. He rushed back quickly and breathlessly gave the address, the whole address (the whole thing had come back to him), over to the lady on the other end of the phone.
Then he repeated it for her slower because he’d spoken too fast. But she finally got it and in a moment, help was on the way.
“What’s your name?” The voice asked him once figuring out where he was wasn’t so urgent.
“P-Phoenix.”
“Phoenix? Well, it’ll be okay. An ambulance is going to come to help your mom.” She paused. “Can you tell me what’s wrong with her? You said she won’t wake up?”
“U-Uh-huh.” Phoenix swallowed back another round of sobs. He reminded himself it was going to be okay. People were coming to help. “I heard her fall off the couch and th… then I couldn’t get her to respond to me at all a-and I don’t know what I did wrong!!”
“You didn’t do anything wrong, Phoenix.” Phoenix just sniffled in response. He wasn’t so sure. “Was there anything weird before that happened? Anything you noticed?”
“I think so?” Phoenix tried to remember what had been happening before this. Before the world had changed completely. “Um, she was sleeping when I came home. But she… she was really pale. I thought she was sick! So I was making soup, so she’d feel… better-”
The soup. Phoenix dropped the phone and rushed into the kitchen. His tomato soup was boiling over, spilling red all over the stove- and the floor. The smell of burning was present, foreboding. How had he not noticed? How could he forget something like this? The kitchen was red, all red. It was all his fault. He could picture what Mama would say already.
“How could you be so careless? I know you want to help, but it’s not helping me to- to ruin the kitchen!”
And Phoenix would cry and apologize and move to clean it up, but she’d stop him, telling him he would certainly only make it worse. He would step back, feeling helpless, and she would mutter under her breath, but not quiet enough to miss.
“Where am I going wrong here…?”
Phoenix would know then that he was a terrible child and that was why Papa wasn’t there anymore, why his Mama was so miserable all the time. It was him. Papa had said as much, hadn’t he?
“There’s something wrong with him.”
It was so accusatory. Phoenix didn’t get why. Both his parents seemed to blame each other for their screw-up of a son. Phoenix was the reason they hated each other now. It was all his fault. There really was something wrong with him.
The sound of the smoke detector brought him back to reality, the beep permeating through his skull. He covered his ears instinctively, anxiously, but it reminded him. The soup. He had to shut off the stove. He dragged his chair over and tried not to touch the burning liquid as he reached over to shut the burner off. After a hesitation, he pulled the pot off the burner as well. It burnt his hands, but this was a little better, right? It only hurt a little bit anyway.
The smoke detector was still going, attacking his eardrums. Phoenix let out a whiny grumbling noise and dragged the chair into the hallway so he could reach it. He hated the noise. It just made him want to cry even more. It took a few smacks (the button didn’t work first try) and he definitely got frustrated with it, but soon enough it was off. Then he caught a glimpse of the phone out of the corner of his eye.
“-nix? Is everything okay?” He could hear the voice speaking as he fumbled with the phone, feeling horrible. It was so rude to run off like that. But what else could he have done? “Are you still there?”
“Sorry!!” The words burst out of him, tumbling out with reckless abandon. “I’m sorry the soup was burning and it made a big mess in the kitchen so I had to deal with that and then the smoke detector was going off, I’m sorry I had to fix it!!”
“Hey, it’s okay!” The voice reassured him. “Deep breaths, remember? Sounds like you have a lot going on. How old are you?”
“N-nine.” Phoenix bit his lip. “I j-just wanted to be helpful but I messed it up. I always mess it up, I-I can’t- Mama will-”
“Shhhh, it's okay.” The voice stopped him, reassuring him again. “I’m sure your mother thinks you're very helpful. You helped her by calling me, right? You seem like a wonderful son and she's lucky to have you.”
Mama doesn't see it the same way, Phoenix thought, but he didn't say that. This lady was being so nice to him, he should try to feel better about it. Maybe she was right. Maybe Mama would be so happy about being saved that everything else would be forgiven.
“U-Um, thank you!” Phoenix stuttered out once he realized he'd been silent for a while. There'd been compliments, he should thank her. “You're really nice… is that how you got your job?”
“Not quite.” She said with a smile in her voice. “But it helps. Phoenix, tell me, were you at school today? How was that?”
Phoenix found himself grinning from ear to ear as the discussion shifted to his school. He told her all about Miles, and all about Larry, and about his day, and she was engaged the whole time and even asked follow-up questions. It wasn't every day Phoenix got to talk this unhindered.
After a while, though, he had to let her go. She had to be available to answer other calls, she said, but the ambulance would be there soon so if he could just hold tight till then everything would be okay. Phoenix was sad to say goodbye, but he did feel better. And he didn’t wanna keep her from her really important job.
While talking, his anxieties had been mostly forgotten. Now they were back, not as bad as before, but he couldn’t even look into the living room without that pit of dread in his stomach. Phoenix went into the kitchen instead and served himself burnt soup, forcing it down past his nausea. His stomach refused to settle.
She’d been right, though. It didn’t take long for the ambulance to arrive. Phoenix let them in and they rushed straight to Mama, checking her over. He stood awkwardly to the side, unsure if he should be doing anything, feeling anxious about the strangers in his home. He reminded himself they were there to help, answering anything directed at him as best he could. The reality was really setting in now. Whatever they were trying to do to help her wasn’t working very well, so Mama was going to the hospital. Phoenix was going too. He couldn’t just be left there, and he wouldn’t want to be. He didn’t want Mama to leave his sight.
He didn’t process a lot of what the paramedics were saying. It was all Phoenix could do to remind himself to breathe as he stared at Mama’s face, still looking so much like she was just asleep. What he could gather, though, was that there was still time to save her. His chest tightened at the thought that if he had waited longer, there may not have been.
They didn’t let him go into the room with her. Phoenix found himself sobbing all over again. He wanted to stay with her, wanted to make sure she was okay, wanted to know what was going on!! But the doctor wouldn’t budge.
“Is there anyone you can call?” One of the nurses spoke to him sympathetically. She’d given him a candy a minute ago, one that he was now just clenching in his fist, running it between his fingers rhythmically. The motion was calming. “Your mum might be here a while. Do you have anyone else you can reach?”
“I-I… ummm…” Phoenix didn't have anyone. Mama knew all the numbers. He only knew two. “M-Maybe? I don’t know if I-”
“That's great, you can use the phone or ask the receptionist, alright?” The nurse wasn't listening anymore, distracted by her job calling her away. Phoenix didn't get a chance to tell her that the only person he could call himself was out of state. She was already leaving. He sighed and went to the phone on the wall of the waiting room.
It felt like forever that he was standing there with the phone ringing. Just ringing, over and over, and he wondered if this was pointless. Doing this wasn't helping anything, and he wouldn't pick up anyway, so-
“Wright speaking.”
He answered. He really answered! Phoenix found himself smiling despite how miserable he still felt.
“Papa!!”
“Nicky?” Papa’s voice sounded surprised. There was a scuffling noise, and then his voice returned to comfort Phoenix’s ears. “Where are you calling from, kiddo?”
“Hospital!!” Phoenix was crying again, so it was difficult to speak. He didn't want to sob in a way that Papa would hear, so he covered his mouth with his hand. This time, he thought he might’ve been crying from the sheer relief of hearing his father’s voice. He wished he was there to help more than anything.
“What?!” Papa yelled out in alarm. Phoenix flinched at the noise, holding the phone away from his ear.
“ Louuud, Papa…!” He whined. Phoenix didn't like yelling or loud noises. This didn't always mesh well with Papa.
“Sorry, Nicky.” Papa was quiet for a moment. Phoenix thought he might’ve been taking a deep breath, so he took one of his own, getting his crying under control. He was getting better at that. “Is everything okay? Are you injured? I don't know if I have- if you need money, I might be able to scrounge something up? For- for the bills, healthcare is expensive, of course.”
“I’m okay!! Not injured.” He had hurt himself ages ago now with the soup and everything, but that wasn’t really what was being asked about. “It’s Mama who isn’t… she’s sick.”
“...Oh.” Papa paused, not saying anything. Phoenix knew that Mama and Papa didn't exactly get along, but surely it was different in this situation. “Is she- with what?”
“I-I don't know, they said that she- took something?” They hadn't said anything to Phoenix, but he had heard what they were talking about earlier. “I don't really understand, but she wasn't waking up and so I called the e-emerceng- 911.”
“She WHAT??” Phoenix flinched. Papa sounded furious. It didn't seem like it was with him, but he still felt that tightness, that worry that Phoenix had done something wrong. “Of all the irresponsible- well, then who's looking after you? Since clearly your mother is incapable- urghh.”
“Papa…” Phoenix groaned. He didn't wanna hear another of these rants. He never knew what he was expected to do when one of his parents started talking like this. He liked both of them, although he felt the usual twinge of guilt, knowing this state of affairs was his own doing, in a way.
“I don’t think we can do this anymore.”
Words overheard through Phoenix’s bedroom door had taken on a different tone in the time leading up to the divorce. Before, it had all been yelling and arguing and tears. But at some point, a sense of calm had replaced the anger in the Wright household.
“Didn’t we want him to have a normal life?”
“Phoenix isn’t a normal child.”
The calm before the storm. For years, Phoenix had tried his best to be a good child. But it wasn’t enough. He didn’t understand things, got overwhelmed too easily. Was much too sensitive.
“It’s just going to be you and me now, Nicky.”
Phoenix couldn’t stop it. The world moved too fast, no matter what he did or how he cried. How could everything crumble so suddenly to pieces?
“It’s not like we were in love. Not for a long time.”
All a lie. Phoenix had just been too stupid to see the truth. He’d always thought, despite the fighting, despite the cruel words, that their family was happy. But it wasn’t. Maybe if he’d been better, it would’ve been. But…
“Sorry I missed your call again, kiddo. Papa’s pretty busy! Listen, I don’t know if I’ll make it for your birthday party…”
“Nobody.” Phoenix finally answered his father’s question. But feeling alone wasn’t unfamiliar to him at that point. “C-Can you come get me? Please. I don't know a-anyone else’s-”
“Nicky, you know I can't do that.” Papa’s voice was apologetic, and he seemed a bit awkward about something. His words were accompanied by hurried laughter. “I’m uh… Las Vegas, baby! Y’know?”
“H-How far is that?” Phoenix begged, with confusion and desperation. He just wanted his Papa. “C-Can’t you just drive back?”
“It's… it's far, Phoenix.” Papa sounded serious, but there was a strain to his voice. Something sad. “Listen, your Papa’s gonna win big, real big, get lots of money for you, okay? But that's all I can do. You should call one of those little friends you've got, Miles, or that Butt kid.”
“But Papa, I don't-”
“I gotta go, Nicky!” Phoenix could hear the smile in Papa’s voice. It wasn't enough. He wanted to see it. It wasn't fair. “Love you.”
With a click, Phoenix’s Papa disappeared entirely.
Phoenix wiped his eyes and sat, resigned, in one of the empty chairs in the waiting room. With all the patients waiting to be saved, the noises of pain and sickness and worry, under the harsh glare of the lights, Phoenix's sniffles faded into the background.
Mama was awake the next day. Phoenix only found that out when he flagged down a nurse and begged to see her. The nurse seemed confused that he was there by himself, but he made something up about his grandparents waiting for him outside. In reality, they were visiting his cousins downstate. Phoenix kept that to himself and was easily allowed into the room where Mama was.
“...Nicky…?”
Mama sounded tired, so so tired. Phoenix was tired too (he'd only gotten a little rest sitting in the waiting room; every time he fell asleep some noise would wake him), but his heart broke for Mama. It must’ve been so terrible for her, to have something so scary happen and wake up in a hospital.
“Mama!” Phoenix’s voice broke. He was crying again. He rushed forward and hugged her, sobbing into her shoulder. She put an arm around him, hand in his hair, and gently kissed his forehead.
“It's okay, Nicky, I'm here…” She murmured as he shook against her. “Everything's alright now.”
“I thought… I thought you might never wake up!” Phoenix sniffled. “You weren't moving a-and I didn't know what to do, and-”
“You did a good job.” She told him, stroking his hair gently. “You called 911? That's exactly right, Nicky. Shhh, everything's okay…”
Phoenix grew more calm the more she whispered to him, and he was quiet, just feeling that she was warm, she was there, she was breathing, and she loved him. He'd saved her and she was there to tell him that everything was okay. Everything was okay.
The hospital said that Mama was well enough to go home, she just had to take it easy and recover for a few days. She called a friend to drive them home and Phoenix could tell she was feeling better when she started complaining about Papa always being too far away to count on.
“He barely even takes Nicky for his weekends!” She ranted in the car. “I mean, does he even remember he has a child? I was in the hospital and he still couldn’t even-!!”
She went on. Phoenix gazed out the window and pretended like he wasn't listening.
At home, Phoenix insisted that Mama rest while he made more soup. There was still some soup left in the fridge from yesterday, but that was no good. Mama needed fresh, hot, soup. Phoenix would eat the rest of the leftovers himself.
Phoenix ended up eating the hot soup after Mama initiated a trade.
The evening was spent watching old movies in the living room until Mama said it was time for bed. Phoenix suddenly felt panic at the thought of Mama being out of sight. He cried again until Mama let him sleep in her bed.
Phoenix didn't go to school the next day, either. It didn't seem like Mama noticed. She was still pretty tired and disoriented, maybe she thought it was the weekend. Phoenix was determined to take care of her until he could see with his own eyes that she was better. There wasn't time to go to school.
Mama kept telling him how sweet he was, wondering what she would do without him, saying she didn't deserve such a sweet kid like him. He tried extra hard not to screw anything up so she'd keep saying things like that. But then, even when he made a mess making supper, she didn't get upset. It felt like he'd done so good that all the bad was wiped away.
Halfway through the next afternoon, though, the school called. Phoenix didn't hear the call itself, he was in his room. But Mama quickly came and told him exactly what the school had said: that Phoenix Wright had been absent for three days with no explanation.
“You have to go to school, Phoenix!” She snapped at him despite his protests. “God, I- I thought it was the weekend or something!”
“But Mama!!” Phoenix whined. “I just wanted to help you!!”
“Phoenix.” Mama quelled him with a glare. “I am not going to drop dead just because you go to school for a few hours.”
Phoenix’s lower lip trembled. Drop dead? He hadn't even been thinking of that. He'd just wanted to make sure she got all better.
Mama must've seen the look on his face because she sighed, slumping against the wall.
“God, I'm such a horrible mother.” She murmured. “Didn't even notice my kid was skipping school.”
Phoenix quickly rushed to his mother’s side, kneeling next to her, desperate for her to stop feeling bad.
“I don't think you're horrible, Mama!!”
“Oh, Nicky..” Mama put her hands up to his cheeks. They were warm.
Phoenix went to school the next day. And that was that.
As soon as he got there, Miles was on him in an instant.
“Why didn't you come to school?” He demanded. Phoenix could tell Miles had been worried about him, which was very sweet. It made him feel a little bad for skipping. “I had to play all by myself.”
“With Larry?”
“With Larry all by myself.” Miles corrected, frowning. Those two things were contradictory, but Phoenix didn't point that out. “But he just wanted to throw sand at each other! There is still sand in my hair.”
“My Mama was sick.” Phoenix told him honestly. But he didn't feel like talking about the details. Instead a smiled sheepishly. “I'm sorry for making you and Larry worry.”
“Oh, uh.. I…” Miles looked a little embarrassed. Oops.
“I wasn’t worried!” Larry suddenly appeared behind Miles, throwing an arm around his shoulders in a tight hold. Miles squeaked. “See, Edgey? Told ya he was fine!!”
Phoenix giggled. Having his two best friends around really helped him to feel better about the whole thing.
By the time he arrived home, the hospital bill had come in the mail. He could hear Mama on the phone, fretting about not being able to pay it. Phoenix’s chest tightened. He didn't know what they'd do if they couldn't pay the bill.
The solution presented itself soon enough. Another letter, addressed to Phoenix Wright. It was from Papa. He'd sent a bunch of his winnings and told Phoenix to use it for whatever he wished. The only condition was don't let your mother get ahold of it.
Phoenix was happy to use all of it to pay the hospital bill. Mama looked so relieved. And things went back to normal.
(A few months later, Miles moved away. Phoenix was inconsolable. Mama told him that people come and go, and it's okay to be sad for a little while, but that's life. Phoenix cried harder and didn't tell her that if that was what life was, he didn't want it.)
By the time Phoenix was 13, Mama had had a few more major incidents. It didn't grow to be something he was comfortable with, far from it, but he at least wasn't so caught off guard by it and knew what to do.
It had gotten to be part of the routine that he would stay at Larry’s for a bit while Mama recovered. Larry spent the entire time looking for ways to cheer Phoenix up, distract him from worrying. His parents were very sweet about the whole thing. Phoenix couldn't really stop worrying if he tried, but Larry had a big family, so it was possible to somewhat lose himself in the chaos.
When Phoenix visited Mama the next day, she was muted and still even though she was awake. It was like all of her colour was overtaken by grey. Phoenix wished desperately she'd cheer up. Everything was okay now. Would be okay.
“Nicky.” She didn't look at him. “I must be the worst mother in the world.”
“Of course not!” Phoenix said quickly. She was in one of her moods again. Phoenix would fix that. He'd do anything he could. “It was just an accident, Mama. Everything's okay now.”
“An accident.” Phoenix froze in place at the sound of the bitter laugh escaping her lips. “You're so naive it hurts.”
Phoenix didn't say anything. It was like time slowed. The tightening of his chest threatened to explode outwards, but he didn't let it. He felt numb instead.
“I wanted to die, Nicky.” She was looking at him now. He would rather she didn't. He didn't want to see the weariness there. “I wish I had.”
“You… you can't.” Phoenix found his voice. It sounded foreign to his own ears, too small and meek for his age.
“You'd be better off anyway.” Mama looked away again. “Without your good-for-nothing mother.”
Phoenix was moving, suddenly, surging forward to grab onto her arm.
“Please!!” He cried out, desperate, the words tumbling out. “Please don't go, Mama, you're not- you're not good-for-nothing, I need you, please, please don't leave me, I couldn't take it!! Please, please, please…”
He pressed his face into the sleeve of her hospital gown, muffling his whimpers, his repeated cries of please , and whatever else he said to try to get her to stay. There was a ringing in his ears that came from deep within his head, blocking out any real thought that didn't come as a fragment.
“Oh, Nicky, you're too desperate…” Mama put a hand in his hair, sadness in her voice. “Nobody’s ever going to love you if you act like that. What am I going to do with you…?”
Phoenix froze up, his begging quelled. Was that true? He thought it must be. He stood up, slowly, and Mama’s hand fell from his hair loosely. She was gazing out the window again.
“Well, maybe it's for the best.” She was murmuring. Phoenix wasn't sure if she was still talking to him. “Love only leads to heartache, and naive decisions, and the next thing you know there's a baby and you're trapped in a loveless marriage.”
Phoenix was silent. He knew. He was hard to love, too clingy, too much. But he would work on it. If he tried hard enough, he could be the son that his parents would have stayed together for. Even if he had to pretend for the rest of his life, that was fine.
Would that make Mama happy?
“Please don't die.” He said one more time. Mama turned to look at him with those sad eyes once again and said,
“I won't. It's clear you need me.”
For some reason, Phoenix didn't feel much better.
Mama stayed in the hospital for a while longer and Phoenix went back to Larry’s. That night, long after Larry was loudly snoring, Phoenix kept staring at him, unable to stop himself from worrying that Larry would want to leave him too.
Phoenix never did quite master pretending to be normal. That promise was forgotten quickly, although he found himself making a similar one again and again, fighting to suppress anything that made him strange. He almost gave up entirely in high school, cool band t-shirts and dark eyeliner found their way into his closet throughout high school. He was okay with not being one of the cool kids, they seemed super obnoxious anyway. Phoenix was okay to stick with Larry, even when he dragged him to parties and double dates that never went anywhere.
He fought with his mother a lot. She wasn't the biggest fan of his choices, or his fashion sense, or his dream to be an actor, when it came time to apply to colleges.
(“How will you ever make any money that way?”
“I'll figure it out, Ma!!”)
For some reason, she didn’t like the pivot to law, either.
(“Well, it's a wonderful career, but are you sure you can handle that with your grades?”
“What is that supposed to mean??”)
She wasn't a fan of his girlfriend, either. No matter how many times he told her Dollie was the sweetest girl in the entire universe and he was going to marry her, she didn't warm up to her. Phoenix stopped talking to his mother as much.
Unfortunately, she was right about Dahlia.
(“How can any woman ever count on you for anything?”)
After Dahlia ripped his heart out and stomped on it several times over, the last thing he wanted to hear was an ‘I told you so.’ His mother’s sympathy, therefore, was bittersweet. When Mia made him go to counseling, he didn't talk about his mother. He tried not to talk about his family at all.
(He didn't go for very long; not after the counselor started asking him about some personality disorder. Phoenix got angry and stormed out, because there was nothing wrong with him. In hindsight, that probably didn't help his case.)
Over the years, his mother got sober. Phoenix was happy for her, even though it was too late to make a difference. She got better and Phoenix got worse. Too often, he drank too much and cried. He wasn't sure when he'd developed a problem.
On nights like these, it felt far too late to do anything about it.
Phoenix stared blankly at the nearly-finished cigarette in his hand. He'd said goodnight to Gavin hours ago, and it'd been long enough now that he could hardly feel the buzz at all.
He didn't talk to his mother anymore. He hadn't heard from his father in years, all he had left of him were the cards he'd taught him to use. Mama had smoked. He wondered if she'd quit that, too. Wondered what she'd say now if she saw him like this.
A few hours ago, Phoenix had been hit with the feeling that he'd become her. And he didn't like that. So many times, he'd told her she was a fantastic mother, that he loved cooking for her cause he got to take care of her, show her how much he appreciated her. He would've done anything to help her. Anything to make up for the problems he caused by existing.
Now, he just felt numb. A parent didn't do that to their child. Phoenix had only had Trucy for a short time, but he knew that he would sooner die than let her suffer for his sake. Never, ever, would she be left hungry because he was too stupid to know when to stop. If he had a hangover in the morning, there was no way in hell that would stop him from getting her fed, clothed, and biked to school.
Because he loved her so much, he would give her the best life he could. He would get sober for her. For his daughter.
He couldn't fix his mother, that was never his job anyway, but he would fix the damage Zak Gramarye left when he abandoned the most wonderful little girl in the world with his own two hands.