Yes, I'm naming Gregor's dad Eli. Here's my logic — the full names (as far as we know) of Gregor and his siblings are Gregor, Elizabeth, and Margaret. Margaret we know is after Gregor's great grandmother, and I've noticed how Gregor sounds slightly similar to Grace. So that could be deliberate. Thus, I chose a name close to Elizabeth for Gregor's dad — Eli.
Eli is losing his children again.
Or, maybe that's not quite the right way to put it — last time, he was the one who was lost. But to him, it felt like the same thing — it still does. He didn't just lose his freedom, his health, his hope in that pit. He also lost everything he lost. And he knew that they had lost him, too.
It's a terrifying thing, for a father to be rescued by his son.
And now it's happening all over again.
His boy is saying something over the phone, voice muddled with urgency and fear. But there's something else there too, and that is what frightens Eli the most — not the fear, not the confusion, but the resolve in Gregor's voice.
Because in the time Eli has spent lost, his family has had to make do without him.
And that means that Gregor will not even bat an eye at the thought of taking any burden that ought to be beholden to only a parent onto his own shoulders.
"But… Gregor…" Eli says, cursing his own faltering voice. "You can't—"
But Gregor won't even let him finish. "I have to, Dad," he says before launching into a spiel about what to do — don't call the cops, tell people that he and Boots have the flu if they're not back immediately.
And it's terrifying. It's the most terrifying thing in the world, for your son to tell you what to do when you should be the one speaking those words.
Eli struggles to push himself up from the couch. Lethargy seeps through his buddy, like a sluggish venom in his veins. "Listen, stay there. I'm coming with you. I'll be there as quick as I can," he says, making his voice as steady as possible. He is the parent in this situation, so he ought to be steady.
"No, Dad! No, you'd never make it. You can't even walk down the block!" Gregor says.
You'd never make it.
Eli grits his teeth. He fumbles against the couch, trying to get to his legs. He has to. Oh, God, he has to! He can't— he can't let his boy— "But I… I can't let you…" he says, and now his voice is weak again. A strangled noise escaped his throat, a sort of choked sob.
"Don't worry. I'll be okay," Gregor says.
And it's sickening. That his little guy has to be the one reassuring him. But Eli is panting already; there's nothing he can do. He knows that Gregor is right. He knows that, no matter how horrible this is, he has to listen to his son. He has to trust Gregor.
But oh, that doesn't make this any better.
"Gregor? You have any light?" he asks, because at least he can do that.
"No… wait, yes! I've got a flashlight. Dad, I've got to go now."
And maybe a part of Eli had hoped that Gregor had said no. That he would have had to run home, or let Eli come with him.
But that was not the case. So all Eli can say is, "I know, son. Gregor…" His voice quivers, and he swallows painfully. "I love you. Be careful, okay?"
Be careful.
As if this is just any trip — as if this is his son's first time walking to school on his own.
Oh, he'd missed that too, hadn't he? Gregor does so much on his own now.
"I will be. Love you, too. I'll see you soon, okay?" Gregor's voice sounds like that of a parent reassuring their child that they will be safe home from work.
"See you soon," Eli whispers. His voice has run dry now.
There's nothing he can do.
There's nothing he can do.
The call ends.