Staying Grounded [BXB]

Bridging the Gap

SEBASTIAN:

I didn't think Craig would return from getting some air. After twenty minutes, I felt entirely sure he wouldn't. So, when he saunters back through the doors over half an hour since he walked out of them, it's to catch me with the tell-tale tracks of fucking tears streaking my cheeks.

I'm the only one waiting now. Sheila, the veterinary nurse, has been out and spoken to me, urged me to go home. Dobby's in great hands and nothing more will be happening today — he's still sleeping, still stable. I know there's no reason to stay; I just haven't yet found the willpower to leave. Home won't feel like my home without my dog in it. Thinking about his empty basket, his empty bowl, the distinct lack of his comforting presence...

"Hey." Craig might almost be smiling at first glance. Until he properly takes note of me. "Bas? Uh, are you—?"

"Nope." My head shakes, my eyes blinking against the burn, and I desperately want to swipe a sleeve across my face. But as his feet stop just inside the entrance, a look thrown over his shoulder instead of a move made to retake his seat beside me, all effort to collect myself is abruptly cut short. "Where've you been?"

"Don't be mad," he has me instantly furious. Another glance is shot behind him as the doors slide open again. "It's not what you're thinking."

And that's as much preparation as I'm afforded before someone else steps in, halting at his side. "Surprise!"

I stare at my mum, and her tentative grin swiftly vanishes. Wrapped in a smart belted mac, heeled boots and styled hair raising her height several inches, she's clutching her purse to her chest with both hands like the world depends on it. The plaster cast has been removed, a dainty silver watch now circling her wrist. "What's going on?" I ask, my gaze snapping back to Craig. "What's she doing here?"

He winces, then awkwardly shrugs. "Ash gave me her number. I called her, told her what happened. She asked me to bring her to you, so I have. She really wants to help, Bas."

The sting behind my eyes becomes an acute itch fiercer as Mum hesitantly moves around Craig toward me, and I aim my following question to neither of them in particular. "Why?"

"Because I'm your mum, love, and because I can."

"You can't."

"I can." Claiming the chair next to me, Mum angles herself in close. She lowers the purse to her lap, opens its zipper, and draws out a bank card. "I may not have always been the Mother you deserve, but don't you ever doubt, Sebastian, that you're the most precious part of my life."

"I'm not taking your money."

A snort escapes Craig, earning him a scathing glare. "Stubborn bastard," he mutters under his breath.

Mum sighs. "It's not mine." The card is offered to me, but I refuse to even look at it, never mind accepting it from her. "It's yours, Son. It's money I've been putting away for you ever since you were my tiny baby boy, a gift meant for your twenty-first. There's more than enough to cover this and leave you some change."

Stubborn bastard that I indisputably am, the trait is no less inherited than the red of my hair. When I still don't turn, Mum reaches over me to slide the plastic in between my palm and my thigh. A small wooden pendant slips free of her coat collar in the move, dangling at her throat. "Pride has its place," she adds softly, cool fingertips brushing my thumb, "but it isn't here."

And despite myself, the carved acorn that should still be boxed away in my cabinet has my vision blurring as I once again flick to Craig. "You—?"

"I think I should probably go, and..." he starts over me only to abruptly trail off, his lips twitching up on one side at the fractional shake of my head. With a brisk swerve and a finger-jab toward the far back corner, he attempts zero subtlety in amending himself, "give those leaflets a look-see, just over there."

Of the numerous shortcomings Mum could be faulted for, an oblivious fool she is very much not. I can feel her watching me, a brow lifted, as I track Craig past us and across the room. It's not until he plucks a 'Caring for your hamster' information sheet from the rotating stand that I finally relent to meet her gaze. "I'm fully aware that my opinion is of little worth to you," she keeps her voice soft, "but that boy of yours has a heart as beautiful as his face."

My nod is unintentional and halted a moment too late. "He told me you called by the farm earlier," I don't give her the chance to further derail me.

"Yes."

"Why?"

"Clark told me of your visit yesterday, and the effort you made meant a great deal to him. I just—"

"My effort wasn't for him."

"I know, love." She taps her purse lightly off my knee. "Still, he was so pleased with himself when I got home, showing me the coat hooks you helped him with. He even made dinner for me last night, for the first time in about three years. Beans on toast. I just wanted to see you, to tell you how much I appreciated it."

"I won't ever be okay with him, Mum."

"I know that, too."

"But I'm done with giving him the power to come between us."

Craig's trying far too hard to refrain from looking our way. It's Mum's arm wrapping my shoulder that pulls back my own attention from straying. The corners of the bank card bite into flesh as my fingers reflexively curl around it, and another rogue tear threatens to escape me at the uncurbed tremor of her bottom lip. I focus on the pendant rather than the smile she can't quite hold.

"I'm to blame for poor Dobby getting out," she says. "Let me do this for you, Son. This one mess I've caused that I can make right for you, please let me."