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The first time David says goodbye on the phone, Marcy doesn’t ask.
“It was so nice to finally talk to you, Mrs. Brewer. Call the store anytime.”
He seems like one of those people who’s happy to meet everyone.
When he texts her a picture of Patrick playing his guitar, leaning into a microphone, Marcy doesn’t ask.
Your son charming everyone at our third open mic 🤩
Everyone could mean anyone.
When he explains a baby shower game called “Sleepy Mommy” to her, Marcy doesn’t ask.
“Patrick called it ‘bleak.’ It’s just so sweet when he supports my creative decisions like that.”
Event planning together takes a special kind of partnership.
When he tells her about their afternoon at the ropes course, Marcy doesn’t ask.
“No surprise, he was very good at the trust falls.”
It’s nice that they’re doing some team building.
When he describes Patrick’s new apartment for her, Marcy doesn’t ask.
“The closet space is unacceptable, but it’ll do for now.”
Of course David would insist on seeing the closets as part of the housewarming tour.
When he sends her a picture of the two of them in matching baseball uniforms, holding a trophy between them, Marcy doesn’t ask.
If I wasn’t your son’s favorite person before today, I am now 🏏
Patrick has always loved sharing his hobbies with his friends.
When he complains about Cabaret rehearsals cutting into their time together, Marcy doesn’t ask.
“I feel like I never see him after we close anymore.”
It does sound like it takes a lot of late hours to keep the store running.
When he invites them to Schitt’s Creek for the surprise party, Marcy doesn’t ask.
“I want to celebrate Patrick with the two people who loved him first.”
There can’t be anything worth asking about behind this statement. If there were, Patrick would have shared it by now.
Then Johnny Rose says the words “romantic relationship” and Marcy can’t ask anymore. She walked into an entire town of people who knew before she did, and one of them just told her. She missed her chance.
When she finds out Patrick has been holding this in for almost two years, Marcy can’t keep her next question to herself.
“Why didn’t you ever say anything?”
He goes quiet the same way he used to whenever a shopping mall Santa asked what he’d like to find under the tree if he could keep being a good boy. Like he’d rather not admit to wanting something before he’s sure he’s earned it. But after a minute, he tells her.
“I know this is silly. And unfair. But I guess I was kind of hoping… that you might ask.”