Count On Me

Part Three

Chapter Three

Oscar was sure he could feel pretty much all of the two hundred and six bones in his body. He didn't travel first class, but for business it was usually a few steps up from economy, unfortunately there had been nothing other than coach class, and he had spend over seven hours with his six foot frame folded into a chair designed to accommodate someone far shorter than him. That was after eight hours getting from his sisters to JFK. He felt old, and wrinkled. Like the jeans and shirt he was wearing.

Someplace over the Atlantic he'd spoken to his boss, he could work remotely from 'home' for a few weeks, after that they may need to call on him, bit a few weeks was more than he hoped for. He'd also managed to find an apartment lease for a couple of weeks in a block that he was assured was a few streets from her.

Once he cleared immigration, Oscar hailed a cab, which drove him across the city to the same suburb as Nate...his son.

He was so nervous. En route he sent a text to Janis' sister, telling he was coming over soon, if he made that arrangement, he couldn't back out, because part of him wanted to bury his head in the sand, pretend that it wasn't happening. He really wished he was anywhere but there...in his life he'd always had control. Finding out about Nate was bad enough, but then he'd lost him for two years...but now...how would the boy take to him? He was terrified to find out. He couldn't begin to imagine how that boy would be feeling, his son...he couldn't imagine how Nate was feeling, to lose his mother so young. He only hoped that he'd accept him as a father.

He glanced at the last text from Lizzie.

'Nate is not on best form, he seems bewildered...understandably. Of course you can come here any time, but can we hold off on explaining who you are...just for a while. He has a lot to deal with.'

He wasn't lying in his response, it was her way, she led things, she was the boss. He stood wholeheartedly behind her, after all, he didn't know Nate, he wouldn't recognise him in the street. He pulled out his wallet, in the inside pocket was a folded picture, the only image he had of himself, holding the toothy and smiling toddler, blonde curls, blue eyes, more like him that his mother, that was for sure.

A honk from outside indicated that a taxi had arrived, so he grabbed his phone, wallet and the keys to this apartment, and headed out into the now dark rainy afternoon.

The house was LITERALLY two streets away and he felt a little embarrassed to pay the cab driver what was a minute fare, and all too soon he was at the front door and his hands were sweating, his head pounding.

The door opened and there stood a woman. She looked young, early twenties, and she was similar to her sister, dark hair, and behind the puffy cheeks he could see warm brown eyes, sad, but warm. As she looked up at her from hooded eyes, he could feel how sad she was, how hard this was for her.

"Hi I'm Oscar Wicker..." He extended a hand and watched as she slowly slid her hand into it.

"Lizzie Breen, come in. You must be exhausted."

He shrugged, "I'm sure you haven't had more sleep that me."

That made her smile, albeit sadly, "that sounds about right. Can I get you a coffee? Tea?"

HE followed her along the corridor, into a kitchen, "coffee sounds great, I might actually stay awake."

She gestured to the table and Oscar took a seat and watched her as she moved around the kitchen making them a drink. When she finally stilled waiting for the coffee to brew, she turned to him.