Family Meeting.

[prodigalflame]

It was well past time. Ellen Allerdyce been sitting in her car for twenty minutes, considering how and what to say. War gaming various approaches was simply another delay, and she'd never thought of herself as a shrinking violet. So she fixed her hair in the small rear view mirror, checked her jacket, and ensured everything was as good as it could be. A woman's wardrobe was her armour. While the clothes were perhaps a few years (more than a few) out of fashion (much like the family car, a small hatchback), they were clean and in good condition. She may have looked a bit old-fashioned perhaps, a bit too perfect, but she had been an Avon saleswoman. She'd done a lot of things for her family. And she could make this sale.

So, taking a breath, she keyed the motor off, got out of the car, locked it, and marched up the small pathway to knock at the door.

Comments

[prodigalflame]

"Thank you," Ellen said quietly. She could afford to be magnanimous, and frankly, didn't bear the other woman any ill will.

She let Bobby go first, considering her words. Certainly while he didn't appear abject, there was still an understandable frailty and confusion to him. This was not the happy-go-lucky young man her son had spoken of across the years. Sinking down into the chair nearest his, she sat so her body language was entirely attuned to the man who might become her son-in-law. "I honestly don't think he realised that was what he was doing. He seems to think he was giving the both of you a break, and trusting that things would resolve themselves. At this point, it's just become an article of faith." She shrugged. "When he talks to me or to his sister, he mentions how you'll probably be back for Christmas. I don't think he honestly thinks you will, deep down, but he doesn't know what else to do, Bobby. He has to believe."

[cold_blueeyes]

Bobby closed his eyes and scrubbed a hand over his face, feeling the stubble that a few days of not shaving had left. The image of John, patiently waiting for Bobby to reach out to him when he was better, twisted his stomach, with guilt, with resentment, with pain at the thought that he had caused John to suffer by not interpreting what had transpired between them the same way John had.

He stared at his knees, considering her words for a long moment, and then murmured quietly, "I guess I should call him then." The thought was both terrifying and exhilarating.

[prodigalflame]

There were no tears, no anger: just acceptance, and a graciousness that touched her despite herself. Maybe this boy was good for Sinjin, her driven, cynical boy.

"Do you - do you still have his number?" She questioned, before trying to reassure. "There's no urgency. You can definitely take your time. Just not too much time," she added, with a wry, slightly eye-rolling twitch of her lips that Bobby might have recognised from her son.

[cold_blueeyes]

"If he hasn't changed it, yeah, I'm sure I do." Okay, he might not have John's cell phone number anymore: deleting his contact from his phone had been a step toward accepting that it was over, but he at least knew his mom had the house phone number written down somewhere. "And no, I--I won't make him wait long. I just need to..." he ran his fingers restlessly through his hair, exhaling heavily before continuing, "To figure some stuff out first. This is kind of a lot to process, you know?" He smiled faintly and leaned toward her, his eyes suddenly shining with threatening tears as he added, "Thank you. Thank you for coming here, and telling me."

[prodigalflame]

A lot to process. That was probably an understatement. At the same time, what she felt for the young man was tinged with a slight sense of amusement, until the tears glimmered and she knew, really knew, that nothing she or Madeline could have done would likely have stopped this.

It made it easier to deal with.

"Oh," she said, waving off his gratitude, "it was nothing. Despite what John's told you about me - and I have no doubt it's all true, I do love my son. I want to see him happy. You," she paused, because some of the old doubts flooded back now, in that nice quiet middle class house, with this nice quiet middle class boy, "made him happy." She settled her hands in her lap and hoped she hadn't done a very stupid thing.