It's been almost a week since Naomi left but I'm still trying to get Blair to talk to me. He's avoiding me and I'm somewhat troubled by how good he is at doing just that. I guess it shouldn't come as a surprise but right now that ability he has to take command of the conversation --a skill that I've found so admirable in the past-- is driving me crazy. It's gotten to a point in which now I even have Jim's understanding and support. He cornered me yesterday and wished me luck... and then he told me that he's been trying to have an honest talk with Blair about Naomi ever since the dissertation fiasco four years ago, with the operative word being 'trying'. I'm beginning to suspect that our best bet would be to team up. That way maybe we would stand a chance to keep him off balance long enough to get past his defenses but even then the outcome would be doubtful. I do know, however, that whatever it is that he is hiding can't be anywhere near as bad as the worst case scenarios my mind has been generously supplying me with for these past few days... or at least that's what I keep trying to tell myself.
The fact remains that whenever he avoids talking to me I can't help but try to fill in the blanks as far as to what he could possibly be hiding and the truth is that --whatever it is-- it bothers me. The harder he fights the more worried I become. I know he is trying to protect me, in a sense that's the root of the problem: I am all too aware that whatever it is he is hiding it is something he feels I should be protected from and that sounds so wrong. He is my son and it should have been my duty to keep him safe from whatever it is that he's now trying to protect me from. I know he means well, I know he doesn't blame me for whatever it is that happened to him. He understands that I didn't even suspect that I had a son until a couple of years ago, but I can't allow myself to hide behind that excuse. I made a mistake and he paid the price... it's as simple and as complicated as that.
Of course, part of me wonders what would our lives have been like if I had known about him from the beginning. If I had been aware of his existence, what impact would his presence have had on my Ripper days? Would I have avoided my mistakes to keep him safe or would he have been their first victim? Would he even have survived the experience? Would Naomi have helped to keep me grounded during that period or would the two of us have sunk together bringing our son down with us? Would he have been better or worse off by having me in his life? For as long as I live I will regret all those missed opportunities but I can't blind myself to my own past. It was not idyllic and I was little more than a child myself when Blair was born.
As much as I hate what I've missed and as much as I hate that he was hurt by my absence I seriously doubt that we could have developed the bond we now share if we had been forced to grow up together, but even that knowledge is not enough to silence my fears. I think that is one of the reasons why I'm so determined to get to the bottom of this. I need to know what he's hiding and judging by Jim's reaction I'm not the only one. Blair is extremely generous, always willing to help others, but it seems that one lesson he didn't learn from Naomi is that it's alright for him to share his own burdens, that someone might actually be there to help him if only he were to allow it, and that saddens me.
That Jim and I need some sort of strategy if we intend to get Blair to talk to us is clear. We are going against the master here and that cannot be taken lightly. We have both seen him in action, we know what he can do and we know what we are up against. There has to be some sort of opening in his defenses, something that we can actually use to our advantage... the problem is that we are fighting on his turf. Getting people to open up is his area of expertise --not ours-- and outmaneuvering him is likely to be incredibly difficult.
Together Jim and I go over all those little incidents in which Blair has let something slip, no matter how small. It takes me only a few minutes to realize that those instances can basically be divided into two clearly distinct categories: Some of them were dark aspects that were hidden behind apparently happy memories, the rest slipped out while he was trying to connect with someone else, while he was trying to help. The first kind of incident doesn't really offer much help, but the second could offer us some hope.
The problem is that I'm worried that if he were to discover what we're up to he would see it as a betrayal and I'm not willing to jeopardize my relationship with my son.