A/N- Hey, hey, I actually watched this one! Just mothership this time, promise. The last chapter kinda got away from me haha. Thanks for sticking with me!
Sharon peered over Rusty's shoulder. "So this is your class schedule?" She traced the columns of classes on the laptop screen with one finger.
"It's, like, a tentative schedule."
"Ahh." She leaned back again and sipped her wine. "Are they going towards your major, or. . .?" He hadn't picked a major, yet, as far as she knew. He was trying to be more independent, and she understood that, after nearly a year of constant surveillance. But still, she would have appreciated a call at three in the morning.
He shot her a sideways glance. "I'm undeclared, Sharon. You know that." He knew she was prying.
She shrugged and took another drink. "I can't remember everything."
"Yeah, whatever," Rusty snorted. He tried not to grin, but a smile crept across his face anyways. "You knew that. Don't you tell me how you're always right about everything?"
She raised an eyebrow. "I believe you told me that, and I merely agreed."
"Uh-huh." He turned his attention back to the screen. "It's community college, so I'm just starting by getting my USPs taken care of."
"USPs?" She looked confused.
"University studies program. I mean, I guess they're not technically USPs, because it's a community college, but I still have to take them. Like, Californian history and a science class and writing and stuff like that."
"Oh. I remember taking those. I don't think they called them USP classes, though."
"Yeah, I know. I don't think Moses spoke English." It was tossed out so casually that it took her a moment to get the joke.
"Thank you," she said smoothly. "It did take me a moment to translate back to my native Phoenician."
"You age well," he said, then looked up and grinned. "Sorry. It was just too good an opportunity to pass up."
She laughed. "That was well played. What classes are you taking, though?"
He turned the screen slightly so she could see it. "Trigonometry, intro to theater, stage management one, and the freshman honors colloquium."
She stared at him. "You're in the honors program?" He hadn't even told her he was applying for honors. He had done all of his college applications himself, and after checking with her about the first one, had sent them all off independently.
"Yeah, I mean, you only needed a 3.5 GPA to get in and I had, like, a five-two, so. . . yeah."
"Rusty, that's wonderful!" She set her glass down and hugged him tightly. "You should have told me! Oh. . ."
He shrugged awkwardly. "Yeah, well, it wasn't a huge deal or anything."
She pushed him back so she could look at him. "Yes, it is. You're going to college, you've got a job, you're in the honors program. You've grown up so much. Do you remember the first week here you lived on this sofa?"
"It was definitely more like the first two weeks. And then you totally kicked me off it. Which was okay, I guess. I mean, the bed is nicer. . . Hey, Sharon, are you. . . crying?" He paused.
"No. No, it's just my allergies." She ran a finger under each eye, careful to keep eyeliner smudging to a minimum. "They just make my eyes water sometimes."
"Okay." Rusty knew better. She was crying a little bit. They were good tears, though, he knew. The kind that happened when you laughed or felt warm with happiness. He decided to ignore it. She was under a magnifying glass all day at work, and she didn't need it at home. "Did you get dinner?"
He felt her lean back again, thinking. "Mmm, no, actually."
"Oh, well, I made some stuff. It's in the fridge. I'm kinda hungry again, so I'm going to heat some up. Do you want any?" He stood and looked to her for an answer.
"Stuff?" she repeated.
"Oh, sorry. Baked mac and cheese. With a whole bunch of spinach in one half, because you actually like green stuff."
"I do enjoy 'green stuff' from time to time, yes." She smiled. "I'll take some stuff. I'll come join you in a minute? I'm just going to take my shoes off."
"Sure." He set the laptop on the coffee table and vanished into the kitchen.
Sharon stood slowly, knees and back crackling as she straightened. She wasn't getting any younger. She hadn't expected to gain another child after Emily, let alone be sending a third to college after turning sixty, after divorce.
God works in mysterious ways, her mother's voice echoed in her head. Do you honestly think He's going to lay your whole life out in front of you and say 'This is how it's going to go'? Where would be the fun in that, Sharon Niamh?
She snorted and kicked off her heels. She wouldn't exactly have called the last two and a half years 'fun,' but they were certainly eventful. All things considered, they were a pretty good couple of years. Stressful, yes. Terrifying? At times. Would she change anything, given the opportunity?
She winced as a few cabinets banged shut, no doubt courtesy of Rusty's foot.
No. She liked her lot in life, even if it did mean her kitchen would be repeated raided at all hours of the night.
"Come on, Sharon! Grub's up!"
She closed her eyes momentarily. "Grub?"
"Yeah! That's what everyone on Badge of Justice says."
"If that show teaches you one more colloquialism, I may just fire you myself."
"Collo-what?"
