Rusty slunk into Sharon's office and slouched in front of her desk. Picking up the nameplate sitting on the desk's edge, he annoyingly flipped it from one hand to the other, as if it was a ball. Even when she gave him a pointed look of irritation, he kept up the movement.
"You're early," she said sourly.
"Gym class."
She nodded, all her anger momentarily forgotten when she thought of his injuries.
"You have a nickname?" he asked suddenly. He twisted the nameplate around until her own neatly engraved name and title were facing her. "Something other than Captain Raydor. But not Sharon," he added quickly. "Something other than my mom's name."
"No."
"See, my mom, she had this one friend who called her Becca. From our surname, Beck, get it?"
Sharon took a deep breath. "Yes, I get it," she drawled. "No, I don't have any nickname."
"It's just weird. I'm so used to saying it to her and-"
Sharon interrupted. "But surely you called your mother 'mom'."
"Sometimes she liked people to think I was her brother, you know, so she got me to call her Sharon. She was real worried about being single after she turned 30, but I guess that doesn't bother you, right?"
"I'm not single, I'm separated," she said carefully.
"Yeah, and you're way over 30 anyway."
"Yes," she murmured dryly.
"You don't care? That you're your age and alone?"
"Well," she said softly, "I'm not really alone, am I?" She smiled and held his gaze for a long moment.
"Well, yeah." He replaced the nameplate onto her desk with a clatter. "I'd better go and start my homework," he muttered.
As he opened her office door she thought he quietly sighed, 'Thanks Sharon'.
But, at her age, she might have been hearing things.