Whoops, I meant to upload this ages ago. Turns out moving is way more stressful than I remember, and things tend to slip through the cracks.
It strikes her halfway through the movie on a Friday night. Later, she wonders why it never occurred to her before, and chalks it up to intuition of not wanting to know. In the moment, however, she can't stop herself from suddenly sitting up from where she was slouching against Mal's side, startling him out of his doze.
"Where are your parents?" she asks, looking around.
"Huh?" he asks, his brain still a bit foggy.
"Your parents," she repeats. "I just realized I've never met them." More so, it's the realization that she's never even seen them in the house. It strikes her as odd, since her own parents would be hovering nearby and, most likely, eavesdropping.
Mal's stomach drops to his toes, and he does his best not to show it. Instead he stalls for time by sitting up straighter on the couch and popping his back. He knew she would ask eventually. Truth be told, he was surprised it had taken her this long. But despite that, a part of him had hoped he wouldn't ever have to tell her, and that he could keep those two parts of his life separate forever.
"It's complicated," he finally says, unable to meet her eyes.
"How?" she asks. She's suddenly nervous about what he's going to say. What could be so bad? How could his parents be complicated? Were they super strict? Were they travelling for their jobs, and instead of throwing parties while they were gone, did Mal invite her over? She waited as patiently as she could as Mal grew more uncomfortable.
"I don't like to talk about my dad," he says slowly, figuring that's the less heartbreaking topic, and maybe she'll drop the subject after she hears about him. "He's done some pretty terrible things."
She bites her lip and almost doesn't ask, but her curiosity gets the better of her. "What kinds of things?" She kind of hates herself for it when she sees Mal's expression twist. He doesn't meet her eyes as he speaks again.
"Unforgivable things. The kinds of things you go to jail for," he says.
"Did he kill someone?" The words tumble from her mouth before she can stop them, and she immediately claps her hands over her mouth. She doesn't know what possessed her to ask that, she can already feel her cheeks burning. Plus, it doesn't make any sense. She would have heard about it if the parent of someone she went to school with murdered someone. She opens her mouth to apologize, but Mal speaks first.
"I mean, he's probably killed someone, he's a cop. Or he used to be," he says. "But that's not what he's in jail for. It's slightly less dramatic than that."
"I'm sorry," she says, still blushing furiously. "What did he do?"
"He had this whole system of corrupt cops," he says, finally looking at her. "He'd spent years cultivating it, and I'm pretty sure they still don't know just how deep it ran. And they did some shady stuff, like deal with the cartels. Suffice to say he's not a good person."
"I'm sorry you had to go through that," she says, looking away. "I can only imagine what it was like for you, and for the rest of your family."
Mal shrugs one shoulder. "I didn't handle it well. I guess my sister didn't either. My mom had a really tough time keeping us together on top of it all." He catches his mistake a second after the words leave his mouth. He sees Natara's eyes drift up to meet his again, and he knows what she's about to ask.
"What about your mom? Where is she?" She watches as Mal grimaces, and wonders if he knows he's doing it. "I'm sorry if I'm being too nosy. You don't have to tell me."
Mal rubs his palms, which have suddenly become sweaty, against the legs of his pants. He has to draw in a deep breath before the lump in his throat disappears enough for him to trust his voice.
"My mom is in the hospital," he says in a rush. "She's sick, she has cancer. It's called Leukemia. I don't totally understand it, I think, but she's been sick for a while."
They fall quiet, the now forgotten movie the only thing filling the silence. Natara seems to have frozen, and Mal wonders if she can hear his heart pounding. He looks away from her and clasps his hands in his lap, mostly to keep himself from fidgeting. A second later, Natara reaches over and covers his hand with hers.
"I'm so sorry," she says, and her voice sounds slightly strangled. She clears her throat quickly. "I'm so sorry you've had to deal with all of this."
"I'm sure others have had worse," he mumbles.
"That doesn't mean it's not hard."
Neither of them says anything for a few moments. Natara realizes she's still holding his hands. She has no idea if Mal realizes, and she doesn't pull hers away. Mal turns his eyes to the TV, suddenly remembering that they had been watching a movie. Or, Natara had been. He'd been falling asleep, and had no longer had any idea what was happening on the screen anymore.
He gently extracts his hands from Natara's so he can pick up the remote and turn the TV off. It's getting late, anyway, and she probably has to be home soon.
"Thank you for telling me," she says as they both stand. "And I'm sorry if I pushed." Mal shrugs and offers her a small smile.
"It's nothing," he says. She shakes her head.
"It's not nothing," she insists. "And if I ever push too much, just tell me. I won't be mad."
He understands. He knows she's trying to make him more comfortable. But truth be told, it's kind of nice telling someone who didn't already know. It doesn't make the situation easier or lighter or whatever. He doesn't even know if it makes him feel better. It just doesn't make him feel worse. He doesn't know how to put that into words, though, so instead he just nods and tries to smile at Natara.
"Deal," he says, knowing he'll never take her up on it.
