Count On Me

Part Nine

Chapter Nine

Arriving at your parents at nine pm on a Friday night when you hadn't travelled to their house for more than two years was anything but ideal. But he needed some time, some distance, and hopefully some sound advice. Because he was floundering when it came to Nate and of course Lizzie. She shouldn't be part of the equation, but it was hurting her that worried him.

Shaking his head, he swung the car onto his parents' driveway then turned off the engine. But it was a long time before he climbed out of the car.

His father was shorter than him and balding these days, but he was one of that father's who did everything; nothing was too much for him. He was great at DIY, but equally knowledgeable about sport, took him to football matches, taught him how to fast bowl, and was a whizz at maths. HE couldn't cook...but he fixed Oscar's car whenever it wouldn't start. He had the utmost respect and admiration for him, but as his father smiled, opening the front door, he didn't think he could get out and face him.

What would he say about the fact that he had a child without being in a relationship with the mother? Or that he hadn't found Nate sooner? That he hadn't told them? He hated to disappoint his parents, but he had no idea how the news he was brining would have any other effect.

"Oscar! It's amazing to see you, we are so pleased you could for us in to your schedule..." his father had opened the door and was smiling down at him. "...I know how busy you are."

Oscar smiled and turned to climb out of the car, and straight into a hug with his Dad, "missed you old man, too much."

His father beamed, "I know son, who'd have predicted that both our kids would settle in the US?"

Guilt, that's what washed over him.

"But I'm back at the moment." He was pulling his overnight bag from the back seat when his mother appeared on the doorstep. She had her hair swept up in to a loose bun and her apron on. That meant that she was cooking. His stomach growled at the thought.

"Mum."

They dissolved into a huge hug, and he could swear that he felt if not heard her sob against his chest. He had been such a terrible son, not visiting, keeping secrets. He had to rectify that.

"I've made more cupcakes that you can possibly eat, but then I was thinking you probably haven't eaten..."

He held her at arm's length, "I had a sandwich on the road, but a cupcake sounds great...then I was thinking I could take you both to the pub...have a proper catch up."

His father beamed at that, any excuse to get out and about. But he knew his mother would want to fuss him at home, he didn't deserve that, he had to tell them about Nate. If after that she wanted to mother him, then he'd succumb gratefully.

So he quashed her concerns, "honestly, I want to sit at a table with you where you aren't rushing around trying to meet my every whim. That means the pub."

His father Fred knew exactly how to handle his mother after more than thirty years of marriage; sliding an arm around her shoulder he gave her a squeeze, "the boy's got you down to the letter Margaret. He's right; you'll be rushing around fussing all night." He turned to Oscar, "the pub is a great idea son."

Oscar dumped his overnight bag in his old bedroom, the Pirelli calendar pictures still adorned the inside of his wardrobe, some things never changed. His mother had lost both her children to education at a very young age, in fact Freya had left home first at just fourteen, he left a year later at eighteen. His mother left their childhood rooms untouched most likely as a way to still feel they were part of the family. For the first time in a long time he felt sorry for his parents. They'd given him and Freya everything they'd needed, and both had abandoned them. He rarely visited, and until Freya had met up with Coop, had the kids, she'd not been home in years.