As Scout turned the corner, he saw his Ma a block away, standing under the roof of the bus station. She shimmered in the heat coming off of the pavement, as if she was a desert mirage, too good to be true.
But it really was his Ma, who managed to make it despite her flight cancellation.
"Ma!" Scout called out, shifting into a sprint and bolting over the next 50 yards until he reached her outstretched arms. He squeezed her as she laughed and hugged him back.
"How'd you get here? I thought the emus took out all the pilots. The Emu Invasion's all over the news!"
"I managed to find one survivor, and he wasn't too wimpy to gun down some birds with me. Thanks to all the money you've been sending me, I managed to pay the rate he was charging. You should've seen how far down his jaw dropped when I forked all that dough all over."
Scout pulled away for a moment, resting his hands on her shoulders. His ma smiled back at him, cupping his face in one of her hands. He loved it when she did that. Felt nice. Like she thought he was the most precious thing in the world. Scout had to admit, he was pretty amazing.
And then she killed his mood as she started asking him typical mom questions.
"How is work?"
"Fine—"
"Are they feeding you plenty?"
"Yeah—"
"Have ya found a girl you can settle with yet?"
"N-nah—"
"Are ya getting along with your coworkers?"
"Well—"
"Did ya get in a fight with that French guy with a stick way up his butt?"
"Y-yeah, but—"
"Did he get in any punches or did ya knock him flat like I taught ya?"
"YES, MA!"
"…"
"...Sorry, Ma. I mean, he got in some punches, I got all of mine, and I socked him in the jaw when he thought he'd gotten the best of me."
Could she ever slow down? It was a wonder he managed to get that last bit in, but really, he only got that in by snapping and losing his patience. And his Ma deserved his patience.
As he tried to keep up with her endless barrage of questions, he got distracted by the look on her face. It was weird. He could tell she was glad to see him. And she had every reason to be. But every once in a while, the corners of her mouth started sliding downward and she'd look at him with her big, sad eyes. She tried hiding it, 'cause every time he started looking too long, she'd snap back to being all smiles.
Something was bothering his Ma.
"Hey Ma?"
"Yeah, honey?"
"Can I give you a hug?"
Scout's Ma stopped talking, and a sad sort of smile crossed her face as she slowly held open her arms. He came closer and hugged her. He figured he'd hug her until she let go. She could let go first.
Scout held her, and the silence dragged out as he waited for her to stop holding him.
She didn't stop.
"Ma? You feeling alright? You ain't usually this huggy."
His Ma sighed. "Well…"
"...it's just been so long since I got to hold my baby, y'know?"
Scout pulled her closer and rested his chin on her shoulder, right in the crook close to her neck. It was a good spot for chins. "Yeah. It has been a while, hasn't it?"
His Ma was silent for a moment, but then spoke. "I remember the day you were born."
"Ma, no—"
"It was mid-August—"
"C'mon, Ma, please—"
"—And I had to drive at 70 on a 35 per hour road—"
Her son had heard the story of how he was born more times than he could count, and honestly, it was just as irritating every time. He knew full well how his Ma had to leave a baseball game his brothers were playing in, and nearly t-boned the world's ugliest van, and he hated the part where she went on about how his father had managed to show up and stay with her in the hospital while she pushed Scout out into the world, howling and screaming from his first breath. And she told this story in the exact same way, every time. And she never, ever listened when he told her he'd heard it all already. Nothing could stop her from going off on this freaking annoying nostalgia trip. She'd went off on this trip so many times that he swore she had to have earned some sort of discount at this point. The only bit in the story that ever changed was how she ended with how cute his little feet were or how he punched the doctor's nose or how he became the quietest, most adorable baby on Earth whenever he was in her arms.
Ugh.
Scout shut up and let her tell the story anyway. His Ma was feeling down, and maybe letting her be a broken record for a few minutes would cheer her up.
"And when I looked at you for a moment, in my arms—"
"Yeah, Ma?"
"I noticed," she said, "that your eyes…"
"...They looked just like your father's."
Scout hadn't heard this part before.
"He left us in the dust, y'know. Left our little family of nine and never came back. But while he was there, he was so proud that not only did I bring a little fighter into the world, but that fighter… looked just like him."
Scout did not like where this was going.
"He was proud of me, huh?" Scout muttered.
"He sure was, honey."
Scout was quiet.
"Your father was—"
Scout pulled away from her.
"...What is it, honey?"
"Why would you tell me that?"
His Ma stared as Scout clenched his fists.
"I don't want to be anything like him."
His Ma flinched.
"But—"
He interrupted her. He couldn't just sit and take it if she started talking more about his father.
"That scumbag left you. He left you, with a whiny, screaming baby, and seven other kids that all had to be fed and taken care of and stuff, and he never came back. Ever. He left you to work day and night, when we were running off to beat the crap out of people, and when we were trying to meet our teacher's stupid standards, and when we were leaving our stuff everywhere in our apartment. And you had to deal with our crap all alone. Why the hell would I want to be like that? To be like a guy who leaves you with a bunch of kids that need attention?"
He didn't like the way his Ma was looking at him.
He kept going. He couldn't stop now.
"And you know what? He left me. He left me, with just my brothers to step in to show me how to, like, do "man" stuff. And sure, they taught me well, but they ain't my dad. They ain't supposed to be my dad. They shouldn't have had to teach me how to catch a ball, or how to shave, or anything else. I tell you what, though. They probably taught me better than that double-crossing jackass could ever have."
He couldn't take it back. He had to keep going.
"And you know what else? My father never came back. He could've showed up. Just once. Even for Father's Day, as if even something pathetic like that was enough. He could have done something. Anything. And he didn't. He never came back! He never tried to send money, or teach me how to do man stuff, or even tell me he loved me. And you tell me he was proud that I was like him. Proud. Yeah, right. I am never gonna end up like my father. Ever! Don't... don't ever…"
Scout wanted to tell her to never talk about his father again. But he could feel that he'd crossed a line, with the way her shoulders slumped, and the way her breath was hitching, and the way she couldn't look him in the eyes.
He hurt her. She was his Ma, and she was clearly having a rough day, and she clearly needed him to chill out and not push her buttons. And he argued with her anyway about the only man she had ever cared about, at least while Scout was alive. He couldn't let her redeem his father. But he couldn't… do that to her.
And he did it anyway.
And now she was trying to keep herself from crying.
Maybe he was like his father, in some small way.
He really screwed up again, hadn't he. Even though he had talked to her like that before, and she had been really hurt, and he had promised to not do it again.
Fan-freakin-tastic. What was he gonna do now?!
"Ma, I-"
"No, you're right."
His Ma, somehow, had managed to keep herself from sobbing. Scout kinda wished she was. The calm, stern way she was looking at him now felt even worse than if she had been crying her eyes out.
"Your father…" she said, forcing out every word, "...is a coward."
Scout felt a strange feeling of anticipation in his gut, as she started talking about his father in detail, for the first time in… forever.
"He left because he was too scared to raise you, or any of your other brothers. Too afraid to take on the responsibility required of him. He did send money, over the years. Every couple of months, I'd find several thousand in my dresser. Sometimes he gathered enough courage to see me in person. But he never stayed long, as much as he loved me, as proud as he was of you. He did think of you, and he realized over the years what he had done to us. What he had done, especially, to you. He knows full well that there is no making up for all those years lost, for the responsibility placed on the shoulders of your brothers instead of his own. It's too late to give back what he took from you. It would be foolish to pretend he could. But you're right. He should have tried harder."
Scout's Ma was quiet for a moment, staring into her son's eyes.
"He is proud of you. He does a terrible job of showing it, though."
The two stood apart. Scout was in the sun; his Ma was in the shade of the roof. Scout felt like he was burning. Was it the heat of the sunshine? Was it the shame he felt for upsetting her? Was it the confusion of hearing her admit all that about his father? Was it the need to comfort her, but not knowing what to do?
What was there to say? What do you say about a father who had been there, but not? What do you say about a man who had failed him, but had at least kept them out of poverty? Like, real poverty? The poverty he saw every day in Boston, where beggars slept on cardboard mattresses on the street? Scout had always felt the closeness of ending up like that. Had always known how his Ma fussed and deliberately tracked where every penny went. Had heard her beg to be given more time to pay the water bill, the way the desperation cracked her voice. Had seen the way she nervously dug through the can of spare change she kept on top of the fridge, hoping for another stray quarter, a mislaid dollar, something more. Had felt the summer's heat more painfully, long ago, when she needed them all to cut down the electricity bill and turn off the fans.
Scout stole some money, back then. Anything to help his Ma. She had a way of telling he was lying, and had a way of scolding him that made him feel even worse that he had done it.
He hadn't known that it was his father keeping them off the street. It was his father keeping his Ma from going to pieces. It was his father paying for their food, their education, their electricity, their clothes, their everything. His Ma, too, of course, but he already knew that.
Even though Scout was the one burning in the sunlight, he shivered.
"Ma… I had no idea he was doing that."
"Doing what?"
"Paying for stuff."
"Oh. He wishes he had sent more."
Wait. Scout had to apologize. Before he said anything else.
"Ma, I'm sorry for ragging on about him like that. I know you're having a bad day and… and you really didn't deserve to hear that. To hear me go on about my problems with my father."
"You have every right to be mad, you know."
"I know. But maybe—maybe not that mad. And I should've told you later, when you weren't feeling so down."
"There isn't always a later, honey."
"Oh. 'Cause I'd kill your good mood if you weren't upset, and then you'd be upset because I ruined your mood, and then I'd be upset 'cause I upset you, and… and all that stuff?"
"...Yeah. I guess so, if you put it like that."
"Anyway Ma, I'm real sorry. I'll try to be, like, "tactful" next time… "Tactful" means polite, right?"
His Ma snickered. "Actually, it means "To be as impolite as a drunken Aussie at a dinner party."
"What?! Really?"
"Nah, honey, I'm just kidding with you."
"Oh. Anyway, I meant that I'm sorry and—"
"It's okay, honey. I know."
The tolling of the bells shocked the two out of the moment. There was a church in Teufort ringing out 1, 2… 2 PM.
"Aw, crap. They want me back by 2:20. I gotta go, Ma."
Scout quickly hugged his Ma goodbye and began to run back to the base. The Administrator would kill him if he didn't show up. Literally kill him. Said so in the contract.
"Wait!"
Scout looked back at his Ma.
"Did ya really think I'd come all the way to see my son without bringing him something?"
She reached into her purse and pulled out one of the most beautiful things he had ever laid eyes on.
"Ma… you really didn't hafta, y'know?"
"I know, but can I really help myself? You're my baby, after all…"
Scout gingerly held the record album as Tom Jones stared back at him from the cover. He had always meant to get his hands on Along Came Jones, but every time he went to the record store and shoved his way through the screaming crowd of Tom Jones fans like himself, but way lamer, the manager shook his head, and he said those awful words, "No, the last one just got sold." Every time. Scout had even staked out the record store a few times, but to no luck. People were even stealing copies before the vinyls could get off the truck. He understood why—Tom Jones was freaking amazing— but geez, could they let the legend's biggest fan, who was also a legend, even gaze upon the sheer beauty of the first album Jones ever put out?
"How'd ya even get your hands on this? Do you know how long I've been lookin' for this album?"
"Honey, you've been dying ever since you started dancing to "It's Not Unusual" back at the Salt and Pepper Diner. I don't know how you're still alive, honestly."
Respawn, for one thing.
"You didn't raise a quitter, did ya, Ma?"
Scout stuffed the record under his arm—but like, carefully—and hugged his ma one last time. He'd hugged her a lot today, but this was gonna be the last one before she went back to Boston. Before he left her all sad and alone again.
Sometimes, he wished he had stayed with her back in Boston.
"I gotta go, Ma. Those buildings ain't gonna blow up themselves, and they'll have my head if I don't come back quick enough."
"I wouldn't want you losing that, now would I?"
He let go of her, but still kept a hand on her shoulder as she looked back at him, with the shadow of a frown still lingering on her face.
"Love ya, Ma."
"I love you, Jeremy."
Scout bolted away as his Ma shimmered in the heat, becoming more indistinct as he sped back to the base.
He was gonna have to mail her some more letters. That'd help. It'd be a neat surprise too if he bought something to go with them. Everyone loved getting unexpected free stuff in the mail. Maybe he'd get her flowers.
Nah. Flowers didn't survive plane trips.
Maybe a drawing? No, wait, a drawing of flowers?
He'd have to figure it out later, when he wasn't dodging cars.
Scout's Ma stood under the bus station's rooftop, running her fingers over her arms, feeling the ghost of Scout's touch fading away. The distant rumble of the highway was the only thing to break the quiet that stole over the place. The summer breeze blew the remnants of yesterday's headlines across the concrete, past Scout's Ma, who stared forlornly into the distance, resigning herself to go back to everyday life.
No one noticed her walk behind one of the station's pillars.
No one noticed that she never walked back out.
Scout's father was always careful about keeping people from seeing him.