Last time he was at her place she slammed the door on him. No different from the last three to four times. Except he tried to hold the door and had his fingers slammed with it. Had to push all the documents he had to sign to Bart. What was it, a day after Bryan told him what his mother had said? Nina had been there. Spouting words he couldn't remember thanks to one too many drinks hours later. Yet here he was again, ready to do what he'd been trying to do more times than he could count. This time, he came with flowers in his good hand... his left hand. The one with the scar. She'd cut him way deep. No suit. A grey shirt and jeans. It was unlike him.
But what she saw standing there was a man who was out of his zone. Red eyes, unkempt hair, bandaged right fingers and maybe something else. She didn't pity him. She didn't regret what happened last time he came over. She knew as she assessed him, he had to be wondering what exactly was keeping her from shutting the door again? It was the question that that struck her the second she opened the door. 'How long can she milk this?' Not for much longer before it starts to look and feel ridiculous. She folded her arms, glaring. Could it ever be ridiculous?
He didn't know what to do. Especially since she just stood there. He looked at the flowers in his hand. "I uh... I went to a flower shop." He licked his lips. "And I asked what flowers best say that I'm sorry." Is that what they are? "The guy who sold them to me said Umm... roses cause I probably hurt whoever it is. Which I did," Lucille took her eyes off of him and focused on the flowers. She noticed the white roses. "Tulips for forgiveness, because I want you to forgive me." There they are, white Tulips. "Hyacinths too. It symbolises truth and peace." Blue hyacinths check. "And daffodils. To start over." White daffodils check. All the white flowers mixed together and surrounding the blue hyacinths perfectly arranged. She looked at him again. "There are no words to tell you how-"
"Come in." She stepped aside.
It wasn't what he expected. Hearing her say those words so calmly made him feel tense. It was also hard to believe. She wants him to come in. He nodded and did was he was told. One foot passed the threshold and it was like it was his first time in her house. He made the turn he was familiar with, only to stop when he noticed the child sitting on the floor before him. Looking right at him. His heart skipped a beat. He couldn't take his eyes off of him. As he drowned in the sight of his son, Lucille said, "You can go now." He blinked, pulling his gaze away from Marvin and turned to her as she moved past him and stood in front of Marvin. "Get out." He held up the flowers. "And take it with you."
He didn't know what to say. How long was that, five seconds? "Lucille I-"
"Go." Everything about her was cold. From the look on her face to the way she spoke. He nodded once and turned around.
And just like that, every time he closed his eyes, he was plagued with the image of his son looking at him. It only made him feel more guilty. Damn it, she knew how to punish him. As if trying to apologise wasn't enough. However, the good part being she let him in. Just enough for him to see his son clearly. And be haunted by the rosy chubby cheeks of the child he tried to run away from. Crap... what was the good part again? Oh right, he got to see him and she didn't yell or try to kill him again. So as soon as he got the chance, he was over there again, same symbolic flowers with him that she still didn't accept.
"You're telling me," Bart started, not sure whether to be impressed. "That for weeks now, she let's you into her house to look at you're kid-"
"Marvin." Nick corrected. Suddenly he was always looking forward to the door being opened for him to see them both. Although, the punishment did serve it's purpose. Frustrating him.
"Marvin. Yes. To look at him for not even a minute?" He didn't wait for Nick to nod in response before laughing. So he was impressed. He never did hide how much he liked Lucille. Now is no different. Nick didn't pay any attention to his laughing. "I suppose" Bart cleared his throat and settled down. "I suppose you take your victory where you can."
"This isn't a victory."
"It's better than having your legs shattered because that's where you were headed." He pointed at his hands.
Nick sighed, rubbing his eyes. "His birthday is coming up."
Bart's eyes widened. "Do not go there that day. Or who knows what will happen."
He may have missed his birth, but he sure as hell wasn't going to miss his birthday. His parents' house was decorated with balloons and the cutest things that he hadn't seen before... In their house. Cars were parked all around. People he'd seen or hadn't seen around the office holding the hands of their children as they led them to the front door. Open for everyone to enter. Unfortunately, the second he stepped into the brightly coloured hallway, a security guard stepped out of nowhere and blocked his path. "Sorry Nick." Damn it. Nick clenched his jaw. "We've been given orders not to let you in." Open to everyone except him apparently.
"Who's orders?" Would Lucille do this? After weeks of ten second watches, would she really not let him in? Even if it's for just a glimpse?
"Your father."
Of course.
