The Pact (Scömìche)(completed)

8 Broken

On Saturday morning Scott woke to the sun pouring through his bedroom windows. Another beautiful day he thought, and bounced downstairs in his running gear. Esther waved at him from the kitchen, and he saw a cleaning crew restoring his garden to order. 

First came a workout, followed by a long, hot shower that left him feeling renewed. He finished with a blast of cold water that was supposed to stimulate the metabolism.

He never got used to it, but he got through it, and that was a pretty good way to approach the things he didn't like. Sometimes it was about loving the process, sometimes it was about loving the outcome, and other times it was about simply doing what had to be done. In short, he had learned to be an adult, even if he wasn't worrying about arthritis and wrinkles yet. 

It was just that he felt he was growing too serious, and he needed more downtime.

The party memories were buzzing in his head, his oldest friends were all in town, and he wanted to be silly and playful and have fun again. He pulled on a tee and jeans, and ran downstairs. Delicious smells wafted from the kitchen, and his stomach actually rumbled.

"Morning, beautiful." He kissed Esther's cheek where she stood at the vast hob frying bacon. "That smells so good. What do you want me to do?"

"Morning, babe. Set the table and make some coffee, then we're good to go."

Scott got to work on his coffee machine, then arranged milk, orange juice, syrup and butter on the breakfast bar.

Esther was humming some tune he didn't recognise while she cooked, and his heart swelled with the easy domesticity of it all. There had been no mornings like this for a long time.

"Do I smell pancakes?" He sniffed the air. "All these carbs will make me as big as a house."

"Oh, stop it," Esther said, sliding bacon onto a plate. "A couple pancakes is what you need, and you already ran today. Anyway, don't like, don't eat."

Scott hugged her briefly from behind. "I didn't say that. I'm starving and I'm going to eat everything."

"That's what I thought."

They sat together and ate in friendly silence. At the end Scott rubbed his stomach.

"Est, that was amazing, thank you. No, have some more coffee while I clear up." He loaded the dishwasher and put everything away, then tugged on Esther's hand.

"Come on, let's sit on the deck." He poured himself another coffee and led the way out, where they sat.

"This is so nice." She took another sip of coffee. "It's always such a mad rush at home, getting the kids ready, finding sports kit and homework. I forgot mornings could be like this."

Scott drank coffee while thinking how to respond. His mornings weren't like Esther's. In fact they were the opposite of a frantic family day. Since he had left rehab, he began with exercise, meditation, and a clean breakfast with coffee before starting the day's work. He was organised and therefore productive, and what his routine lacked in warmth it gained in results. He was content, mostly.

After a moment he replied, "Me too."

Esther set down her cup. She had reverted to wearing her glasses, and now regarded her friend closely. "Are things okay with you? I mean really."

"Of course, why wouldn't they be?" Scot waved a hand round. "I have all this, and my music, and friends, family, the whole nine yards."

Esther said nothing, but continued to inspect Scott as though he was a particularly difficult contract clause she was trying to work out.