Man on the Inside

19

Should Brontë be worried?

He remembers being worried for his safety. He was worried while sitting in the car beside Art, while on the plane, before he got used to Art, before he knew him. It was as easy to know him as if he'd known him forever. Maybe his anxiety was just felt as if it was fear. It was never like he really thought his family was in danger.

Now, Nimm is suggesting there's a possibility that Anastasia might go after his family. Brontë doesn't feel that fear. He doesn't know what 'going after' might look like, doesn't know what kind of things he should be preparing for, but he's got faith that Art would never let it happen, if he can do a single thing about it. Even if Art had completely let Brontë drop, never wanted to see or speak to him again- which would be fair- he wouldn't let Brontë's children see the consequences of his actions.

Still, Brontë's a little nervous knowing he's seeing his children, partially because he's thinking about that danger, and partially because he doesn't feel like the same man he was the last time they spoke. He'd be changed in any version of this story, and that might be obvious in the way he finds himself gripping the wheel of the car, even as he's parked, waiting for them.

Nimm hasn't called. She's sent some text updates that basically amount to everything is fine, with a short, clipped tone that implies it isn't quite- but he trusts he'd be told if it was important. He expects another such text when his phone dings.

But it's Art, and Brontë's heart rises and falls and spins in circles and drills a hole in his chest as soon as Art's name pops up. I've made sure your family is safe. So are you. But I'm not ready to talk yet.

Brontë looks at that last sentence, bites his lip, mulls it over. He types out multiple things he erases: will you at least tell me you're okay?- That's okay, but can you- Thank you- I wish I'd-

He finally types something he has the courage to send. You don't have to respond, I just want you to know that I'm sorry things happened the way they did. I'd like another chance, but I understand if I don't deserve one.

He doesn't expect a response, certainly not one so quick. It would be disappointing, if Brontë had had any hope of a response at all. I'm too angry to think straight right now. I will reach out eventually. Just wait.

It's still good news, because at least he intends to speak to Brontë one more time- and he wants to do it right. As does Brontë.

Brontë jumps when the passenger side door opens, and Charlie climbs in without any thought at all, as if she doesn't know the weight these texts are putting on Brontë's heart. "Hey," she says, and Brontë is shocked back into the present- into the one part of him that has, at least, always been genuine, and that's being a father. "How was your work trip?"

"Good." Brontë responds without thought, although he winces at the sound of his utter lie. Well- it's not a lie, per se, because parts were good. It just ended in a way that Brontë feels horrible about. "I'll probably be able to tell you more about it eventually. How was school?"

She raises an eyebrow at that, but doesn't comment. "Good. Not much interesting. I found out we had a QSA, so I joined, and I signed up for the play, too. The new drama teacher's a lot nicer than the old one, so I thought I'd try it."

"Oh, really?" Brontë finds it easier to let go of the fear and all the problems he suddenly has when he has someone else's life to care about. "That's really brave of you, considering how you felt about the stage in year seven. What's a QSA, by the way?"

"I only didn't like it in year seven because Ms Shields was so angry all the time and wanted us to be literally perfect, and also I'm a lot more confident now. Ms Black is cool." It's hard to tell if she means that Ms Black is nice, or that she's somehow enviable, or both. "QSA is Queer Straight Alliance, they used to call it the GSA but they changed it 'cause we all felt it was more inclusive."