It's Definitely Not All Mary Poppins

Some Children Lose, Some Children Learn (3)

Opening his eyes, Matthew sat up to find Mr. Yang stepping away, his decorated slippers the only pops of color in his vision. "Mr. Robinson," he said, suit still gently disheveled. His voice was level, yet his words seemed to wobble through the air. He folded his hands behind his back, drawing in a slow breath, uncertainty in his eyes. "Do you have a minute?"

"Is it about the children?"

He nodded.

"Then I have all the time in the world." He sat up.

"My parents are taking the children for the next two weeks."

Matthew glared, flopping his hands in his laps. "Thanks...for the heads-up, I guess." He stood, scratching his head. "Are they leaving now, or...what? Do you want me to notify Brookfell that Lilly won't be in school until...next-next week?"

Yang said nothing.

"A veritable well of information, as usual."

"It was a decision – "

"Sir, I do not want to hear it," Matthew said, a little too firmly for his own liking, but his resolve to backtrack melted like ice cream under the summer sun. He glanced to the open doors of the loggia, spying for any shifting shadows, before whispering, "Are they usually that lovely?"

"Excuse me?"

"To you. Not the kids." He frowned, meeting Yang's eyes.

"My relationship with my parents is not – "

" – my concern, but speaks volumes about how you treat your own kids."

Mr. Yang clenched his jaw. He drew in a sharp breath, but something in his expression broke. He pressed his fingers to the bridge of his nose and sighed through his teeth. "Mr. Robinson, I...I do not have the energy for this right now." The sound he made after was desperate, though he pressed on. "Please, just tell me you'll notify the school of Lilliana's absence for me."

"I will, but you still haven't answered my question. Are they going now, or later?"

He pressed harder against his nose, eyes closing a bit tighter. He exhaled, long and tired and growing more and more irritated. "They're leaving tonight."

Matthew turned away. "Wonderful." He tossed a Volkswagen pamphlet with the others and closed the drivers side door.

"...we should talk."

"No we shouldn't."

"I meant when the children go."

"No, I understood. No we shouldn't."

"We have to speak, Mr. Robinson."

"No we don't."

"Matt, please."

"What part of 'no' do you not understand?"

"I understand you're still mad – "

"I'm not mad, Yang. I'm not."

"You are."

"I'm not."

"I'm too tired to continue this."

"Join the club."

"I am serious. You said I'm not trying, but I'm trying now."

"I'll believe it when I see it."

Mr. Yang sighed. "Matthew, please."

"The day I'm stuck with you in a room by myself again is the day I press charges against you."

"I'm done fighting. I can't – " And his voice hitched.

Matthew turned back.

Mr. Yang had a hand on his throat, eyes wide and surprised. He cleared it, shaking his head, and tried to recompose himself. He smoothed out his suit as best as possible. Tidied his hair even if it wasn't possible to maintain. Folded his hands behind his back. The display was uncharacteristic, made him look more unraveled than before. "Mr. Robinson, I need some time to compose myself for...all that. I know I can't convince you to stay by any means, monetary or otherwise, and I understand why you need to go. I'm not stopping you." He met Matthew's eyes. "But I owe you this, at least."

He regarded the older man for a long while before shaking his head. "What's stopping you from backtracking on me?"

"Nothing," Yang whispered. "It is true that nothing is stopping me from backtracking" He paused, considering his next words carefully. "Does it make a difference that I'm the one asking you?"

"No." It did, but Matthew couldn't bear to bring himself to say that. "So, what? We end up in your office, alone, and that's that?"

"No. You pick the circumstances. If you want people there. Just tell me and I'll be there. No questions asked." He sighed, the corners of his mouth turning up into a worn smirk. "You did once say that people have a tendency to be better behaved when they're more on display."

Matthew's eyes narrowed, trying to keep his guard up. "And if I say 'no'?"

Yang shook his head. "Then you say 'no'. The offer stands, though."

He turned back to Lloyd, wiping and smearing whatever little patches of grease onto his face. "Fine. Whatever."

Something shattered behind him, and Lilly's cries drifted lazily through the house. Eli swung himself from the loggia doors, his face a little red. "Matt, Lilly went into the kitchen – where it was before – and touched something and then Nainai said 'no' and then a whole bunch of other stuff happened and – "

"Eli, is she okay?" he asked, though his feet were already moving inside.

"Yeah, she's fine, she's just, like, shocked a little."

"Oh my Gods," he muttered under his breath, passing through the corridor and into the living room. Mr. Yang Sr. and Mrs. Yang stared up at a portion of the collapsed ceiling panel, muttering in Chinese to themselves. They stole glances, switching between the nanny and the children, and their son, standing distantly as composed as humanly possible. Matthew ignored them.

Once the matter was settled – Lilly had been shocked by an exposed wire, which was a matter he would level against the contractor for endangerment – the house fell quiet again, and the office door was closed.