Timeline: Damage Is Done
Ivory Towers (Part Four)
In the morning John takes his mother a cup of coffee. He knocks on her door gently and then enters. Eleanor sits up in bed, hung-over and extremely embarrassed.
She takes the offered coffee gladly. "Thanks," Eleanor says sheepishly, avoiding his eyes. "About last night… I, uh… I - "
Carter decides to spare her the pain of reliving the previous night. "It's my turn to cook you breakfast," he informs her and smiles.
Eleanor looks surprised, then sips her drink. "I don't think I could manage - "
"Come on, it'll do you good. Doctor's orders."
She smiles. "In that case, I can hardly say no."
He walks towards the door, calling over his shoulder. "Come down when you're ready, I'll be in the kitchen."
Eleanor enters the kitchen in her robe, hair wet and skin gleaming from having a shower. She sits at the counter, watching her son move expertly around the kitchen.
"Someone's been taking lessons," she remarks.
"Kerry taught me a few things," he explains.
"Oh – girlfriend?"
Carter grins. "No, Kerry's my boss."
Eleanor looks uncomfortable. "Oh."
Carter laughs. "No, nothing like that. I lived with her – as a tenant – for a while when Gamma and Grandpa cut me off."
Eleanor glances down at her hands. The more time she spends with John, the more she feels dislocated from his life. She doesn't even know the basics and for the first time in a long time, she realizes that she wants to.
"Done!" he says, putting a plate of scrambled eggs and toast in front of her.
They look at each other; and it's still an effort between them but it's getting easier.
Carter is pouring her another coffee when Millicent walks in. She starts at seeing them getting along so well.
"Morning," Millicent says distrustfully.
"Morning Gamma – do you want eggs?"
"I'll stick with cereal," Millicent replies.
"Morning Millicent," Eleanor greets breezily, tucking into her breakfast.
John tries to fetch Millicent's breakfast; her movements are slow and she looks like she's in pain but she brushes off her grandson's attempts to be helpful and so John sits next to his mother and sips at a glass of orange juice.
"So, what are you up to today?" he asks Eleanor.
"I'm attending the leukaemia centre's Child of the Year ceremony," she answers and then continues to eat. She doesn't ask what his plans are for the day; she's out of practice at this.
Carter nods. "Good for you."
Millicent scowls. "It's Saturday."
Eleanor looks at her mother-in-law. "Yes?"
"I thought you had your beauty treatments on Saturdays," Millicent states disdainfully.
Eleanor uses her fork to shift a slice of toast from one side of her plate to the other. "Well this Saturday I shall be at the leukaemia centre's Child of the Year ceremony."
John looks at his grandmother. Millicent shrugs - she puts no faith in Eleanor's `new leaf' endeavour.
Mickey's knuckles are white as he holds Eleanor's hand, his grip is vice-like, as if he's afraid she'll disappear if he lets go.
The ceremony has long since ended and as they pose for pictures for the Center's PR department, Eleanor begins to worry for Mickey's health. It's cold. He's already ill; she didn't feel it was right to keep him out here so long.
"We should go back inside," she tells the photographer.
"Just another round," the photographer insists.
"It's freezing - we really should go back - "
The photographer ignores her and starts shooting another round of film. The clicks and flashes seem endless, she feels like she's being assaulted. Then the barrage ends abruptly as he reloads his camera. Eleanor turns to go back inside.
"Hey, lady - " the photographer calls out. "Where are you going? We have to do another set."
She stops and frowns. "You have enough - "
Mickey squeezes her hand. "Please," he whispers.
"C'mon - one more round," says the photographer impatiently, bustling forward and moving them back in position. Eleanor keeps her eyes on Mickey, his hand is like ice and his nose is turning pink.
She took Mickey to County first because all she could think was, `John will know what to do.'
Eleanor watches the nurse stick a needle into Mickey's arm and she wants to squirm but the boy's eyes are fixed firmly on her.
"You don't have to look, you know," Mickey says.
She folds her arms across her chest in defiance. "I'm fine," Eleanor lies and she knows Mickey will believe her but she's not so sure about John. He's heard those words from her before and then seen her aftermath.
During the course of the day, Carter watches his mother bugging the staff and standing-over Mickey and he can't work her out. She's been polite to Abby, been inquisitive about medical procedure and he wants to shout `Where is this coming from? Where were you when I needed you?'
John remembers what it's like to want to curl up to her, to be comforted by her, be infolded in her arms that were always safe: a refuge where all the bad things in life couldn't reach him. So he doesn't resent Mickey; he resents his mother. That she can bestow all this attention and affection on a boy she doesn't know, yet deny him, her own son.
And until now, Carter thought he had got past this, but he supposes twenty years of rejection can't be made-up for in a month, no matter how good the intention or how hard they try. He wants to be over it, doesn't want to spend the rest of his life in limbo with her but he can't help the anger. It comes naturally to him where she's concerned. He wants to tell her she's doing the right thing by Mickey but all he can think of is getting Christmas cards saying "Thinking Of You" instead of her being there. And he's sure she has a threshold for pain, that soon, he'll push her too hard… but he feels like hurting each other is the only way they know how to communicate.
Yet, he checks Mickey's chart when she asks him to, they stand in the lounge, he gets blinded by rage again, because he thought she had made progress, thought she was finally coming to terms with Bobby's death… and then she springs this on him. She's being selfish again, being insensitive: being his mom.
He flicks through Mickey's case notes and tries to keep his tone neutral as he translates the chart. "He's, uh, in blast crisis. He's had a recurrence. His bone marrow is full of leukaemia cells and he's not going to be able to fight infection."
Eleanor's eyes search his. "Is there something we can do?"
She thinks, maybe she's holding onto Mickey because she's never disappointed him - he looks at her with fresh eyes, with new hope and she thinks that, maybe, if she can come through for this boy, then, somehow, it will change the fact that she let Bobby down.
John wants her to stop pressing, so he replies coldly. "I'm sure they're giving him antibiotics. The oncologist will know exactly what to do."
Eleanor nods her head. "Yes, of course but he's just a number to them. Maybe if, if you spoke to the doctors they'd take him more personally."
Carter can't hold it in any longer. "Why are you doing this? I mean, you've been here all day. You've been holding his hand, clipping his chart, bugging the staff!"
"I'm trying to help a sick child," she declares, puzzled by John's behaviour.
"Mom, he has leukaemia."
She holds her sons gaze. "I know that," she replies and feels her blood run cold at John's intonation.
"And he may not survive. Look if you've got some kind of twisted need to relive this, that's fine. I'm not going to do it again. I made my peace a long time ago."
Eleanor stares at John, stunned. After all they've been through together in the last month, she's surprised that he's unafraid of breaking the fragile bond that has grown between them. But he's braver than her: Eleanor's seen his ability to face things and she feels proud of him, she only wishes she could say he got that trait from her.
Carter feels momentarily guilty about being so cold in relation to Mickey's plight - but this feeling is soon buried by a sense of rectitude – his mother was never one for follow through. He stops and corrects himself - after Bobby died, she was never one for follow through. He can't let her repeat history – that was the basis of their renewed relationship, wasn't it? To break the mould? Carter doesn't want her using Mickey as an excuse to fall back into old patterns; it would be all too easy for her to give-up again.
Eleanor has fallen asleep at Mickey's beside. Carter enters the room and watches her for a moment. She looks so delicate. So peaceful.
"She's pretty tired," Mickey tells him.
John turns his attention to Mickey. "How you feeling?"
"Kind of better."
And Carter sees what his mother means; there's something familiar about Mickey, the same kindness that Bobby had. That while he was dying, he was worried about everyone else. John pushes his brother's memory from his mind. "Yeah? They treating you okay up here?"
"They don't tell me much. They tell her, mostly," the boy confides.
"You know what's happening to you, Mickey?"
"I know it's back. But… I don't think it'll be as bad this time. I was by myself before," Mickey looks over at Eleanor, his eyes filled with such affection; such trust that it makes Carter want to cry.
John turns his attention back to his mother, he has a sudden urge to hug her, to comfort her and in that instant he can almost forgive the past. Almost.