Just a quick note to say that I'm heading off on a holiday for a week and don't know if there'll be internet so updates might be slow for a bit. Ta.
"Hello?"
Catherine sighed in relief, letting out the breath she hadn't realised she was holding, closing her eyes in a smile at the sound of her son's voice.
"Daniel, hello."
"Oh, hi. Hi mum," Dan responded awkwardly. "How are you?"
"Not too bad. I'm having an early lunch, then I've got meetings all afternoon. How are you?"
"... Alright."
Catherine Ashcroft had come to the parenting game late, at least compared to her contemporaries, and she had spent a great many sleepless nights whilst pregnant with Dan rubbing her hands over the tight skin of her swollen belly and worrying that she simply did not have the mysterious, maternal instinct that her mother had seemed to have in such quantities. Sometimes she still wondered when most of her parenting powers were going to kick in. At other times, like now, all her son had to say was, 'Alright' after a significant pause and alarm bells began to blare inside her brain. 'Alright' could mean a lot of things and right now it meant: 'Not alright at all'.
"Daniel."
"I am. I'm fine."
She changed tack. Children were like a game of chess, or so her husband claimed. Sometimes you needed to employ a bit of misdirection, and you always needed to think a few moves ahead.
"Did you get a chance to read my email this morning?"
"Last night, actually."
She held the phone away from herself before sighing because she could practically hear Dan's nervous foot shuffling at the prospect of being told off.
"Well no wonder you sound the way you do," she said as calmly as she could. "Did you sleep?"
"I did. I promise," he croaked. "I just sound rubbish. I'm fine."
"And where are you now? Are you at home?"
She was trying not to push, or be nosey, because Dan would nearly always push back and act out when he felt threatened, but she was desperate to find out how he was actually feeling.
"No, actually we're in the village," Dan told her, his voice still throaty and broken. "I needed to get some prescriptions filled."
"... Daniel, why do you sound that way? What's happened?"
"Nothing, I just..." she heard his breath hitch and, against the soundtrack of the cheerful village street, it made her heart bleed. "I... I almost didn't get my anti-depressants refilled. I..."
"Why not?" she asked, barely audible.
"I don't know. I walked in to the pharmacy and just suddenly thought, what if I didn't give them this one. They'd never know. What would happen if I just stopped taking them."
A tear rolled down the curve of her face and Catherine didn't bother to wipe it away. She was sure there'd be more. She could fix her make-up later, right now she needed to cry a few tears on behalf of her son.
"Love, please tell me you got your prescription filled."
"... I did."
"And is that the truth?"
She could hear his breathing, and cars and people passing in the street, and she knew it hurt Dan to have an exposing conversation in public, because she knew it would hurt her.
"Yeah," he said eventually, drily as though his throat was too tight.
And she believed him, which she supposed could be those parenting powers finally kicking in.
"Good, just checking. I'm proud of you, Daniel."
"Yeah?"
"Yes."
Dan chuckled, dark and self-deprecating.
"I'm a bit of a fuck up, mum."
"No, you're not."
"I've done practically nothing with my life. I'm thirty and what've I got to show for it?"
She wanted to tell him again about how brilliant he was, how it didn't matter whether he had a fancy career or a list of achievements after his name, or a house, or a job, because he was loved and he was the sort of person people felt privileged to know, and he had a loving partner, and he was wading through his demons with a courage that she marveled at. But she couldn't say that, not right now, because Dan wasn't particularly good at phone conversations, and he probably wouldn't believe her if she started gushing like a proud mother hen.
"You're not a screw up, love. You've just been... taking the scenic route through life."
"The scenic route?"
"The long way round."
"The long way round?"
"...Yes."
"I'm a fuck up, mum."
Catherine closed her eyes, forcing the tears that had been gathered in the corners to finally fall.
"But I will love you no matter what."
"Thanks, mum."
She nodded. Her lunch break was running out fast and she needed to ask a few more questions.
"Where's Jones?"
"Chatting to Maurine."
"And how does he seem today?"
"I don't know," Dan sighed tiredly. "Fine, I guess. He kissed me good morning."
"I get to see you next week. I'm looking forward to that. I can give you a hug."
"Mum."
"Don't you 'mum' me. You are going to let me hug you."
"Fine."
"And you will get through this, love. You both will."
"I... I don't know if we can."
"You can," she told him vehemently before reigning in her own emotions. "Why do you think you can't?"
"I'm... frightened," he whispered into the phone. "Terrified actually."
"Of what, exactly?"
"...I don't know."
He sounded so much like her tiny, affection-hungry little boy that Catherine had to take a moment to look up at the ceiling until the new wave of tears that were threatening to fall retreated. Dan had always been upset when he didn't know an answer, always saw any ignorance as a deadly flaw. He was, like his father, frightened of the unknown, and lacked the social skills to navigate it, despite all she had tried to do to help him over the years. Dan was just a bit awkward about life. It was part of his charm, that he was slightly apart from most people, observing and critiquing, even when he said nothing at all. She knew that she viewed him through the rose-tinted glasses of parental love but she was very sure that there was nothing blurred about her assessment of her son's flaws and the way they were interpreted by others as strengths. But right now he was her little boy, and he was hurting so much.
"Alright, she said, taking a deep breath. "Does this fear feel more or less terrifying than having nude photos of you and Jones published in a magazine that was read by almost everyone who knew you? Or being outed before you were ready? Or seeing him bruised and bleeding and being resuscitated?"
Dan was quiet on the other end of the line and she could hear his mind trying to assign his feelings a number.
"... 'bout the same," he whispered hoarsely and Catherine let one more insistent tear slide down the side of her face to be lost in the creases of her neck. She understood the concept of depression but she knew she would probably never really understand the reality of the fear and pain Dan's brain put him through.
"About the same. Alright. Daniel Ashcroft, I need to tell you right now that I love you and I believe in you. You will figure this out. You love him and he loves you and you will find a way to show it. Sometimes two people are just meant to be together, and you will be alright."
"Thanks mum," Dan muttered, and Catherine could hear the tears in his voice. "Shit (sorry) Jones is coming."
"So?"
"It's just, I'm sort of... I thought- hang on a second?... He wants to talk to you."
Dan's voice faded out and, after a few moments of crackling, she heard the clack of Jones' bracelet against the phone.
"Hey, Cathy, how are you?" Jones grinned down the line and Catherine had to smile in return at his optimism.
"I'm well, Jones. I'm looking forward to Christmas."
"Yeah, me too," he told her hurriedly. "It's going to be genius."
"And how are you feeling?" she asked even though she could practically feel the nervous jittering of his body and smell the caffeine on his skin.
"I'm fine," he said too quickly.
"... Oh?"
"Yeah, really. I'm fine."
Catherine paused for a moment. She had learned to read Jones' voice during their first phone conversation, over five years ago now, and he was an even worse liar than Dan, but she didn't want to push him too hard.
"And how's you're leg, dear?"
"It's fine..." he repeated, but the hitch in his voice gave him away. "Nah, it's a bit shit, actually. Sorry."
"You don't need to apologise, Jones, love," she told him. "We're your family. We want to know how you are. How you're really feeling. So that we can help you."
"Thanks, Mrs Ashcroft. Cathy. Thank you."
"You're welcome, dear. Now, could I ask you a bit of a favour?"
"Sure. Anything."
She felt a moment of indecision about her plan but knew that even when they both found out Daniel and Jones wouldn't be angry. Neither was truly capable of holding a grudge and the urge to help in some way was too strong.
"Daniel has been doing a lot of writing lately and he's torn between wanting to keep it hidden from the world and wanting someone's honest opinion. I offered to read it but he was too embarrassed. But I think he'd listen to you. And I think he'd respect your opinion. Would you do it?"
"But," Jones sounded a bit shocked and she heard the clack of his metal cane and knew he was moving down the road a little, so Dan couldn't hear. "I can't just go up to him and ask to read his journal! That's well rude."
"Oh no no, it wouldn't be anything like that. Just, if he asks, would you do it? Would you look at his notepads and give him a bit more confidence in his abilities? He's very insecure about it."
"... Sure, Cathy. I will."
"Thank you."
"But hey, I better duck off and pick up our fish and chips," Jones exclaimed, and she could hear how hard he was trying to be cheerful. "I ordered them ages ago, they're probably really grumpy with me. Shall I pass you back to Dan?"
"Please. But, Jones?"
"Hmm?"
"I love you, dear. And I am so proud of you. You're doing an excellent job. With everything. Well done."
"Thanks, Cathy. Love you too."
There was the muffled sound of Jones putting the phone against his chest as he walked back to Dan and handed over the mobile before Dan's voice, quiet but suddenly excited filled her ear again.
"Mum? Mum are you still there?"
"Yes, of course," she replied. "What on earth is wrong?"
"Nothing's wrong," he told her and Catherine could hear the enthusiasm in his voice and it made her want to hug him so much. "I just need to ask your advice. I think I've found the perfect Christmas gift for Jones."