Chapter Seven

It was settled that Greg's mom would spend some time with her son before they embarked on a cross country journey. The anticipation and trepidation was enough to keep Greg edgy and tense, thereby exacerbating his pain levels. He ran several different scenarios through his head wondering how best to tell his mother he wasn't the nicest person in the world when in pain. He wanted her to understand that he had kept the severity of his infirmity from her so that she didn't worry about him unnecessarily. How much could he leave out and how much would he have to confess to?

He had every intention of meeting her at the airport, but a culmination of circumstances prevented it. He sent Wilson instead.

James waited at the luggage carousel tagged for Blythe's arriving flight. She entered with a throng of other passengers all seeking the same things. He could see Mrs. House scanning the crowds, no doubt looking over their heads for her lanky son's bedraggled hair and face full of scruff. Wilson realized she'd never spot him at this rate, so he climbed onto a lounge seat and began waving his arm.

Blythe smiled warmly, practically laughing a James' antics. She waved back, acknowledging him, and stood in front of the conveyor belt waiting for her travel case.

James excused his way through the waiting travelers, reaching out to Blythe's waiting arms. They hugged like mother and son, the woman pulling back only to ask about Greg.

"Does he have a case?"

"Just finishing up. He'll meet us at home." He stared at the luggage going round in order to avoid lying to House's mom directly to her face. "Which one is yours?"

"The black one with the blue ribbon on the handle."

She looked on as James snagged it like a fisherman.

They began to stroll out of the jam of people toward the exit. Wilson looked straight ahead, mind elsewhere. Blythe watched him. He was such an open book compared to her son. James was a worse liar. His silence was forced. He looked like he wanted to say something. Greg was always hiding something. There was a problem if he wasn't quiet and brooding. She could always tell Greg was censoring himself as not to upset his mother.

Once in the car, she tried conversation. "So what's my son been up to?"

"Same old, same old."

"Work, work and more work?" She chuckled.

Wilson nodded.

"That boy needs to get out more. He needs a hobby."

James laughed. 'If she only knew.'

"I'm worried about him." Blythe was dead serious.

"How so?" Wilson knew they were approaching dangerous territory.

"I thought that after John passed away we could have a better relationship. I've reached out to him a few times, but he shut me out. I've felt rejected and alone." She dabbed at her eyes with a tissue.

Wilson felt helpless in that moment. He spied a Denny's up ahead and pulled into the parking lot. "Let's go in and get some coffee. We can talk somewhat in private."

Blythe nodded, blowing her nose.

They sat at a booth in the back corner. Wilson suggested she think about ordering something to eat as he was pretty sure Greg hadn't had a chance to do any grocery shopping lately.

"He's still living the bachelor's life," James explained. "Sometimes he's at the hospital days in a row. Thing go bad in the fridge. It's easier to pick up what you need when you need it."

"Typical men," she shook her head.

The waitress came supplying them with coffee and menus. They both knew what they wanted and ordered immediately.

"Give me a moment." James exited the booth. "I'll go outside and call House to let him know our flight was delayed. That way he won't expect us right away."

Blythe nodded. She knew her son was smarter than that and probably checked out the airline schedule already. James would get his comeuppance later. That was between the two of them. At least Greg would know she was safe.

Wilson returned smiling. Greg wasn't the least bit suspicious. He took a long sip of coffee before addressing House's mother.

"Out with it, James. Whatever you have to tell me about my son, I can handle it."

James smiled inwardly. House got his blatant forwardness from her.

"Greg is worried about this trip you have planned for him."

Blythe smiled knowingly. "It's just a small get together; nothing he should be worried about."

"You and I both realize that, but Greg has issues. There are things about himself he hasn't told you."

Her face showed concern. James figured he had to do a little explaining or there'd be trouble. But how much should he expose?

"Does this have anything to do with the rift you two had just before John died?"

Wilson was grateful she was so astute. He was surprised she didn't already know what was going on. He nodded. "House was interviewing new applications for the Diagnostics Fellowship Program. There was this brilliant doctor; she was exactly like him."

"Oh dear," Blythe thought she understood where this was headed.

"She didn't make the Team. Maybe it was because she was too much like him. He said it was because she was afraid to be wrong; to fail.

"I liked her a lot. We hooked up, moved in together." James was smiling in spite of the circumstances.

"To make a long story short, there was tension between me and him and him and her. But we worked it out. They shared me." He actually chuckled with that thought, although his eyes glistened with unshed tears.

"Then one night he got drunk after work and called my house for a ride home. Amber, that was her name, went in my stead because I was at work. He decided to take the bus rather than ride with her.

"He left his cane behind, so she got on the bus to give it to him; to make sure he got home okay.

"There was an accident. Amber died from complications to her injuries."

Blythe reached across the table for James' hands. "I'm sorry."

"I was so grief stricken I blamed Greg. I loved her. She was so young and smart and beautiful. I reasoned that if Greg had never called, she'd still be alive. I couldn't stand being around him. I hated him for taking away her future with me. I resigned from my job and made plans to leave town."

"Oh James, I never knew. And then I asked you to bring him to me."

Their tender moment was broken by the waitress serving dinner. Neither one had much of an appetite at that point.

"Did he feel responsible?" Blythe knew her son was stand-offish at times.

"I think he did. But he denied it. Instead he threw himself into work."

"And then his dad died. I pushed him into being there. I wanted to show him off in front of John's colleagues. That and I'd never be able to explain why his own son missed the funeral." It was her turn to confess a selfish motive. "John was very proud of him, even though Greg didn't think so."

Wilson held his tongue. The things Greg had told him about his childhood and the suspected infidelity of his mother weighed heavy in his thoughts. Obviously Mrs. House either didn't believe what her husband had done to their son was abuse, or she was hiding it from the world and hoping Greg did the same.

"It didn't end there," James finally said. "One of the young doctors he had picked for his team was named Lawrence Kutner. At six year old, Kutner witnessed his parents gunned down in their family store. He was a bit like Greg must have been as a child. Very inquisitive. His adoptive parents even told us Kutner blew up things with his first chemistry set.

"I think House saw a little bit of himself in him. Kutner was willing to take risks and think outside the box. He also worshipped your son."

The way James was talking, Blythe knew the young doctor was no longer around. "What happened?"

"He killed himself."

"Oh, that's awful!"

"House took it badly. He blamed the parents. He worked a homicide angle. He refused to believe that someone so young and so like him could self-destruct."

Blythe had forced herself to eat a little during the conversation, but now she was regretting it. "They say death comes in threes." Silently she wondered how her son had dealt with these tragedies. She was afraid of what James might tell her. "How's he dealing in the aftermath?"

"It's been very difficult for him. He's had some very trying times," Wilson admitted without giving away anything. "Do you know what a conversion disorder is?"

She shook her head negatively.

"In Greg's case, it's when psychological stress tricks the mind into thinking the body is in more pain that it actually is."

"So Greg's leg hurts more than it should?"

"Something like that. He plans on talking to you about it . . .the pain that is. Please don't tell him I told you about the conversion disorder." Wilson was already angry with himself for saying anything.

Blythe patted his hand. "I'll pretend I know nothing - like I have been ever since the infarction. He thinks he's shielded me from his pain, but a mother knows."

James was relieved. "You should tell him that. He doesn't think you would understand."

"I know him better than he knows himself," she said with a wink.

Wilson laughed to himself. House seemed to get a lot of his instinctive traits from his mother.

Greg sat in the living room tapping his cane between his legs. Wilson blatantly lied to him, but for what reason? Was Wilson going to spill the beans and blab about his drug addiction and subsequent breakdown? Greg had no intention of telling her any of that. He just wanted her to know that he had pain, and sometimes it was so debilitating it turned him into an ogre.

His fear of losing it while on holiday was his most immediate concern. He didn't want to embarrass and alienate his mother in front of strangers in a strange city so far from home. He'd never be able to forgive himself.

The front door opened, startling him from his reverie. He stood awkwardly and hobbled over to his mother. She didn't miss the heavy limp or tired look in his eyes.

"Sit down and don't fuss over me."

She walked him back to the couch. There they hugged, for what Greg considered an extra long time. He looked over her shoulder at Wilson, who had a hard time not looking guilty.

"Do you want some tea or anything?" Greg wanted to make his mother comfortable before settling in for the evening.

"I'm good. I must confess our little white lie. I asked James to stop off at a diner for some coffee and a bite to eat. I wasn't sure you'd be home in time for dinner."

Wilson nodded vigorously. "I was at her mercy."

"No matter. You're here and we can relax and have a nice visit."

"Do you need me to do anything before I go?' James felt out of place.

"We'll go out for groceries tomorrow. I want to wow my mother with what I learned in cooking class."

"You took cooking classes? I'm impressed!"

"I'll tell you the story of how I saved Wilson's burning balls," Greg teased.

"On that note, I'll take my leave and say good night." Wilson bowed out the door like a Shakespearean actor leaving the stage.

"So how are you really?" Blythe gave her son the 'mom look' as if she could see right into his thoughts.

"Over all pretty much okay. I have good days and bad days like most people," he confessed. There was no need to lie now.

"Today's a bad day?"

"Today's a not so good day; but not exactly a bad day."