"Shan?" Andrew got her attention. She'd picked him up at school and was headed for home.
"What?" She slowed for a stop sign, quickly checked to see if there were any vehicles in sight, then accelerated right through it, her speed barely dropping below half the posted limit.
Andrew didn't even notice, let alone comment, he was well used to her driving style and almost total disregard for traffic laws. Still, he would have been surprised to learn that she actually drove far more carefully when he was in the car.
"You think we take Boone too much for granted?" It was something that had been worrying at him for a few days, sparked by a classroom discussion.
Shannon shrugged, "I don't know, maybe a bit I guess, he needs to be needed though."
"Yeah he does, but I'm serious. I think we tend to take too much advantage of him. When was the last time you did something nice for him?" He shifted a bit sideways in his seat, restricted by the seatbelt, so he could watch her.
"I washed the dishes last night," she replied.
"Yeah, I know that," he rolled his eyes, "I did them with you. That's not what I'm talking about though. I mean something nice just for him."
She shook her head, "I don't get it."
"Well," he thought for a second, "how about a foot massage? He stands almost all day."
"Ewww, rub his feet? That's gross, I'm not doing that." She made a face.
"Yeah right, gross, 'cause of course he'd never do the same for you." Boone had done just that the night before as the three of them had enjoyed some quiet family time together sitting in the backyard.
Shannon shot him a look and thought 'smart ass.' "Besides, we put rubber flooring in the kitchen and he wears running shoes all day. I'm in heels; my feet get sore his don't."
"You sure about that? And anyway I'm not talking about him needing a massage, or even him acknowledging that he wants one, I'm talking about doing it for him because it would be nice."
"He'd be suspicious for sure," she protested but he could see that he'd started her thinking, so he pressed on, pointing out instances where they could do nice things for Boone without being obvious about it.
He suggested getting him a refill when they were watching TV, or even getting their own. Currently the second he saw they were in need of a beverage Boone automatically took care of it, a full glass appearing as if by magic. Perhaps brewing his morning tea for him and having it waiting in a travel mug by his car keys and note book could be something they could do.
Shannon got into the spirit of it and made a few suggestions herself. It wasn't like they didn't help around the house. It was all the little things he did for them without them even registering the fact that he was easing their way through life.
As the realization of the scope of Boone's efforts dawned on them both, Andrew commented, "He's a great dad, I've always known just how lucky I am."
"You ever tell him that?" Shannon was privately trying to recall the last time she'd told Boone that she loved him.
"I've tried." His tone clearly indicating that it hadn't been received with the appreciation he'd anticipated. "You know Boone; he doesn't take a compliment well."
That was sadly only too true. Shannon had been reduced to pulling him into a corner of a banquet hall kitchen after a clients' slightly inebriated wife had gushingly enthused about their meal. It was a sentiment that had been echoed by several others within earshot. Boone had blushed in embarrassment and shrugged it off. She'd hurriedly grabbed his arm, thanking them and trying to minimize any damage, simply saying that he was far too modest.
In front of most of his kitchen staff she'd furiously berated him, her hands fisted on her hips, her face inches from his own. At one point she'd smacked him upside the head demanding to know if he had a brain in there.
"You don't tell people who just paid seventy-five dollars a plate that the food was 'okay you guess' and that 'really it was nothing.' They're going to be so inspired to call us back again, aren't they? Not to mention all the other potential clients who overheard you!" That was when she'd hit him, much to the amusement of the group who'd given up any pretence of working and were enjoying the show openly.
Boone hadn't had any defence, knowing she was right. He'd mumbled an apology and then, much to their shock, had extended it to their audience, hoping that his stupidity hadn't cost any of them any money by turning off future business.
The next day Shannon had caught him practicing graciously accepting compliments in front of a mirror.
She turned to Andrew as she pulled the car into the garage. "You should try it again," she suggested. "And we'll try some of those other things too." And I need to tell him I love him, she reminded herself.
They put their plan in motion when he got home that night. Both so caught up in trying to outdo each other, that they failed to realize that Boone was becoming increasingly nervous and jumpy as their random acts of kindness continually bewildered him, setting every fear and flight response he had into code red.
After dinner Andrew prepared two dishes of homemade frozen yogurt and topped them with a chile/strawberry sauce Boone had made as an experiment; none of them had tried it yet and he was eager to. He carried them into the den where Boone had gone to read.
He handed one of dishes to a somewhat startled, but appreciative Boone, and they both spooned some up.
'Hey, this is really good,' Andrew thought as the combination of flavours and textures triggered different taste receptors on his tongue.
Boone smiled a bit hesitantly and nodded. 'Not bad,' he allowed, he'd barely gotten through three pages of the History of the Space Race tome he was currently ploughing through, as his mind kept recapping over and over the events of the evening trying to make sense of them. He could easily have read the thoughts of his family, but he was so fearful of what he might discover that he refrained.
Andrew laughed as he took another bite. 'Only you would think of combining these things.'
Boone shrugged as he continued to eat. 'I don't know abou…'
"You're a really great dad, Boone," Andrew suddenly blurted then privately reprimanded himself, knowing for sure he'd scared his father and sent his suspicion spinning into high gear. He'd already seen a shadow of it play across Boone's face when he'd handed him the bowl. Why couldn't he have worked up to in and slid it into a logical part of the conversation?
Boone took on the appearance of a deer in the headlights, confusion tinged with apprehension apparent. He glanced from the dessert to Andrew and back again, remembering Shannon refilling his tea at dinner. He tried to read Andrew, but met with a block. He put the bowl down blindly on the side table, almost missing it and groped for Shannon with his mind, wanting to understand what was happening, his world off kilter, searching for a way to return it to a stable plane.
She was upstairs in the bathroom, trying to decide whether to paint her nails Pretty in Pink or Rumba Berry. No help there he thought, frowning, as something about it seemed off. Then it hit him, she was thinking about doing it herself, not having him do it for her. He was absolutely certain that something bad was up.
"I'm dying aren't I? Shannon took a blood sample or something while I was sleeping and had it analysed. You guys are being way too nice to me. What's going on here? How long do I have?" Boone completely spun out of control, the absurdly nonsensical explanation the first to pop into his jumbled thoughts.
Andrew had read the lack of comprehension in Boone as soon as he'd delivered his ill-timed attempt at a compliment, but never expected this. He stared at his dad in disbelief, "You're not serious? I'm just trying to tell you that I love you and now you think you're dying!" Andrew snatched up Boone's abandoned bowl and gave him Shannon's furious scowl. "Just forget it!" He stomped from the room muttering under his breath.
Boone was still sitting there trying to figure out what had just happened, when Shannon appeared in the doorway and leaned against the doorjamb, her arms crossed over her chest. "You know for a smart man, you're awfully stupid sometimes." He looked across the room at her, still at a loss for words.
She pushed off the frame and moved to sit on the end of the couch in the space Andrew had just vacated. Taking his left wrist in her hand she removed the bracelet and studied his tattoo.
"Man is he pissed at you," she said conversationally. "The boy worships the ground you walk on and right now I don't think he'd even speak to you, he's so angry, embarrassed and hurt, well done, brother dear. We're lucky he's not telekinetic as well as empathic, because I think he's mad enough to lift the house right off it's foundation and throw it into the lake."
"You…you guys were being too nice to me. You made a salad without me even having to ask, and then you both shooed me away and did the dishes, then he brought me dessert…" he trailed off as he thought about the other things they'd done for him since he'd gotten home. "I thought you'd discovered I had a fatal illness or something." He pulled his wrist away from her in irritation. "And why are you looking at this?"
"I was trying to figure out if I could get it changed to another woman's name and get a refund on you." She raised her face and he could see that she was almost as angry as she'd just said Andrew was.
The boy had paused in the kitchen long enough to deposit the two bowls loudly on the counter and tell her that it was all her fault because she'd encouraged him to speak to Boone in the first place. Then he'd stormed up stairs, calling Boone several colourful names, some of which even she'd never heard before.
"So he tried to tell you what a great dad you are and you asked if it was because you were dying. I don't know anything about your imminent demise, Boone, but I surely think that he'd gladly kill you right about now. I thought we'd worked out the whole 'graciously accepting a compliment' thing." She told him all about the concern Andrew had voiced in the car earlier and his desire for the two of them to do something about it. "How fucked up is it of you to suspect a stupid thing like your death because we're just trying to do the same things for you that you've always done for us?" He squirmed in the chair as she continued, feeling smaller than even the tiniest Lilliputian when she was done.
"I'm sorry…I just didn't…I mean I….oh god, the poor kid. Jesus I fucked up. I really fucked up badly this time. I'm such a loser, how can he think so highly of me?" All the positive feelings that he'd actually allowed himself over the last month and a half evaporated as quickly as super heated steam. Shannon watched as he fell apart right in front of her, dispersing her anger at him just as quickly. She realized that the fact that he was such a mess was only marginally hidden beneath a thin veneer, ready to resurface the minute anything picked at a corner and compromised the integrity of the tenuously bonded layers.
"Oh Boone," she shook her head sadly. "He loves you, that's how. And he has every right to be proud of you. It's so sad that a person as successful as you are, as loved as you are, has such low self esteem."
His pain filled eyes met hers. "You did grow up in the same house as I did right? You saw my mother in action, or was I just imagining that you were there? And you left me," he added quietly.
"Jesus Christ Boone, you haven't lived with your mother in fifteen years, and I came back to you, didn't I? Can't you work past it?" She asked her exasperation evident.
"It's not that easy, Shan," he said sadly, once again hating himself for sounding so pathetic.
She reached out and cupped his cheek, brushing her thumb over it. "Okay, here's what we're going to do," she said briskly and stood. "You're going to go and apologize to your son; then we're going to sit down together and have a nice long talk." He'd been doing so well lately she hadn't had to assume her amateur therapist role since their vacation. She held her hand down to him, "Come with Dr. Rutherford, Boone." She jested, thinking that it was time to put some of her newly acquired knowledge to good use. She still hadn't told him about the book.
He took it and rose. "Sorry for all the trouble I cause."
"Are you rehearsing your lines for when you talk to Andrew?" She shot over her shoulder as she led him from the room.
She told him that once he apologized to Andrew, he was to meet her out in the back yard, and then watched as he ascended the stairs.
Twenty minutes later, after having successfully pled for forgiveness, Boone headed back down to the kitchen and sent her a message that he was just going to get drinks for them both, and then be right out.
When she informed him that she'd already taken care of that, he paused on his path to the fridge, almost feeling useless, his emotions confusing and disorienting, still on a roller coaster. He joined her outside, looking a bit oddly at the plastic tumbler of iced tea beside his chair, having a hard time believing it got there without his intervention.
The conversation lasted a couple of hours as Shannon drew him out. Long pauses punctuating the periods of silent exchange as he struggled to confirm the truth of his words before sharing them with her. She held his hand, then his body when he eventually broke down.
Leading Boone upstairs and putting him to bed, she was astounded yet again by the depth of her love for him and his trust in her. He'd bared his soul to her without restraint and she'd embraced his very core. They had no need for physical intimacy that night; he'd already been naked to her on a much deeper level. Shannon kissed his forehead tenderly as he almost instantly fell asleep, drained and exhausted, then she went back outside to be alone with her thoughts.