Work Text:
Twenty-year old Topanga Matthews-Lawrence gives birth to a little baby girl on December 8, 2001.
Cory Matthews, naturally, proceeds to freak the heck out.
“What do I do? What do I say? I’m going to break her in half.”
“I’m going to break you in half,” new mother Topanga bites out, but coupled with the fact that she doesn’t say it angrily and the fact that she’s holding a newborn baby, her usual intimidation factor has pretty much just gone and died.
Her little baby coos up at her, Cory grips her hand, and everything is positively perfect.
Well.
Maybe not completely. There’s just something- some one missing, that ensures that the scene there can’t be as picture perfect as it should feel.
“Cory,” mumbles the blonde, a bit of anxiousness entering her voice as she surveys the room, “Cory. Wasn’t Shawn in here with you earlier? I could have sworn I saw him just minutes before I had Riley. And then, again, a few minutes ago.”
“Yeah...”
“And where is he now?”
At that, Cory is stumped. “Want me to go look for him?”
She leans forward just an inch, and he leans downward to accommodate that. She leaves a quick kiss on his cheek. “Yes. Hurry back.”
Ten minutes later, he’s back empty handed.
Topanga, (and on that note, Riley,) both look up as the hospital door swings open. Cory’s eyes are wide, disappointed, but not surprised, and that’s how his wife knows what’s going on before he can even say the words.
She sighs and passes their daughter off to him. Shawn should be in here right now, holding her and coping at her the way that the two of them are. He deserves to be a big part of this little girl’s life, and he can’t exactly do that if he’s running off again with no explanation. They can only hope that he will come back.
Shawn always does.
For now, though, the two just hold their baby tightly and bask in the happiness that she’s bringing them.
They don’t think about anything else.
*****
Time goes on.
Cory and Topanga don’t see Shawn again until right before Riley’s first birthday.
“Hi.” The twenty-one year old mumbles as he stares down at his toes, deliberately ignoring looking up at either of his best friends as their creaky apartment door opens.
Topanga’s eyes, for lack of better description, halfway bug out of their eye sockets. She’s that surprised. He just... shows up on their doorstep a year later, as if nothing had ever happened? For goodness’ sake, he didn’t even call ahead. This kind of thing would have been nice to hear about ahead of time. “Cory! Get in-“
She doesn’t get the chance to finish her sentence; her husband is already flying into the tiny living room as if Shawn is a prize and Cory is the one desperately craving it, needing the win; Shawn is the finish line and Cory is racing for it like he’s trying to be the fastest NASCAR driver that the world has ever known.
“SHAWNIE!”
“That’s me- oof!” Shawn can’t help but stumble back as his best friend tackles him in a hug so tight and so sudden that they both go crashing into the floor.
“Calm down,” Shawn chuckles, running a hand through his hair the minute that he’s released, “I told you both that I’m alive. Why are you freaking out on me so much?”
He did tell them that, but that was all. He told them the day that he left, after they went wandering off to find him- but he never told them what went so wrong on that cold December day. Not for a lack of trying on their part, though- Cory and Topanga were still desperate to know, but the information still eluded them. They could only guess.
At the very least, they all kept in touch. (They probably always will.)
“I haven’t seen you in forever!” The last word comes out of Cory’s mouth as a scream. Riley, who’s playing with some mega blocks or something of the sort on the floor, jolts. If she could speak, she’d probably be asking why her dad is screaming like he just won the lottery.
(News flash- he didn’t.)
(In some ways, though, Shawn being around was better for him.)
“It hasn’t even been a year yet, Cor.”
“Like that matters,” the brown haired man scoffs. “Anyway! I’m so happy!” The wide grin on his face gave that away before his words could.
“I see that. I am, too.” The other man’s smile looks awkwardly out of place in comparison to Mr. Sunshine over there, but it’s genuine and that’s what matters.
“What brings you here? Not that I’m complaining! I’m definitely not complaining.”
Shawn tries to play it all off as if this is a normal type of thing, and as if he doesn’t owe the other two at least somewhat of an explanation, but it doesn’t quite work.
So, he opts for a simple, universal truth.
“I just wanted to see you.”
Cory’s grin widens.
*****
After that, Shawn doesn’t just drop off the face of the Earth like he tried to do last time around, but not everything changes.
He’s still only occasionally around, even though the phone calls and emails have increased tremendously. Every time he does come back to the Matthews’ apartment, he always gets locked in a bear hug or two or three, (so much so that he rarely turns up with anything in his hands, just in case it gets shattered by an enthusiastic Matthews.) One more thing that doesn’t change for a long while is how he reacts to and views the youngest and sometimes loudest one of them all.
Riley turns two, then three, then four, and is still a bit too young to really question anything. That, too, does not change, not until the child is old enough to start school.
The little brunette turns five and is confused on why her Uncle Shawn doesn’t turn up until a week after her birthday, baring gifts. He had called, but it wasn’t the same.
He didn’t offer any explanation, either. This, they all can’t help but notice, is slowly turning into a really bad habit. (If it hadn’t been already, that is.)
“I had a party,” she says, pointing a stubby finger at him nearly the second that he enters the apartment, bags in hand. “And you didn’t come.”
“You had a party?” He tries to play dumb.
“My dad said that he invited you.” It doesn’t work.
“I- ah, I had work to do.”
“And you couldn’t skip just a day? Just for me?” She even pulls out a dark pair of puppy dog eyes. It almost works. ( Almost.)
“Look, Riley-“
“You’re here now.” Her sharp, small eyes look him up and down. She eyes the bags in his hand. She eyes the professional looking camera in his other hand, which, sure enough, is indeed for work. She knows that. “You’re going to come back more, right?”
“Of course I am,” he promises. He even means it.
(Riley and Cory are easily convinced, possibly because they want to be. Topanga, however? Is not.)
*****
Two.
“Dad!”
Cory looks up from his bowl of cereal to see Riley, his six-year old child, burst into the apartment. (She’s coming home about two hours later than usual- he’d be freaking out if he hadn’t called every single one of Riley’s teachers to make sure that she’s okay.)
“Dad!” Riley shouts again.
She’s yelling, clambering for his attention, and she’s so energetic that she doesn’t even stop to notice that her uncle Shawn is quietly sitting at the kitchen table beside her dad. Usually, she’d be accusing him of something or begging him for a present or clinging to his leg, but she apparently has something much bigger to be focused on at the moment. She’s motioning wildly at the doorway, to where a small, (even smaller than her,) blonde child is waiting.
Topanga, who is blissfully clueless for all of two seconds, exits her bedroom just to hear the child bellow-
“Mom! Dad! This is my best friend Maya. She only has one parent because the other one ran away, and the one that she has right now kind of really sucks! Majorly! And that’s not cool! Can she stay for dinner tonight? At least until her mom can pick her up in a few hours? I didn’t want to leave her at the school, and the teachers need to go home, and I had no other options! Please please please? We’ll be good. I promise!” She makes little pleading hands to go along with her long winded ramble.
Topanga, who’s frozen at the door, looks over at Cory as a tense silence catches the group up in a chokehold. Cory, catching this, looks over at Shawn. Topanga also looks over at Shawn. Shawn looks down at his laptop and tries his best to ignore all of them. It’s a futile effort.
“So, Shawnie,” Cory says in a desperate sort of tone that means absolutely no good at all. He juts a finger over at his six-year old, then at the other little six-year old, then over at a frowning Shawn, and asks, “Do you wanna take this one?”
Shawn doesn’t look up. He attempts to type something out for the report he’s working on, but his fingers just end up banging against the keyboard instead. Everyone’s eyes are on him. He refuses to even lift his head in their directions, which is a bit difficult to do when he’s boxed in on all sides. “Absolutely not.”
“Please? This is really not my area of expertise.”
He scoffs. “And it’s mine?”
“Well-“
“Hello there,” Topanga is unfrozen and making her way over to the silent blonde. She just made a smart decision, speaking up before the men can get into a fight. “I’m Topanga. I’m Riley’s mom. It’s nice to meet you.”
The child looks at her with an air of heavy suspicion. “Hi.”
“Hi,” Cory says with a warm smile. “I’m Cory, Riley’s dad. Do you want to stay for dinner while we call your mom?”
Maya blinks, then turns to glare at her friend, who’s watching her with clear interest splattered all across her face. “I don’t need your help.”
The brunette wastes no time in talking back. “But I want to help! Let me help!” she pleads.
“I don’t need you!”
“Okay,” Cory interrupts, looking like he’s not quite sure if he should start laughing or not, “How about you two go up into Riley’s room and get started on your homework?”
“Fine. But I still don’t need her.”
Now standing next to him, both he and the girls and Shawn are very aware of Topanga muttering, “Wow. Now that sounds familiar.”
Maya scoffs, but the two head off anyway.
Smirking, Cory looks over at Shawn as the child who is essentially the man’s mini-me stomps away. “Not your area of expertise, either? You sure about that?”
Shawn frowns, but that’s about it. “Shut up,” he says.
*****
“How do you like your dinner, honey?”
Maya doesn’t look up from the plate of spaghetti she’s scarfing down. She wipes her mouth on her sweater sleeve, barely manages to finish chewing before she starts talking, and says, “Good.”
“Oh she’s the queen of good.” Cory is smiling at Topanga, his big doofy grin on full display. It’s almost sickening sweet. “The Queen. Do you want to be a queen? Or a princess?”
The question is aimed at Maya and Maya only, but it’s not her that answers it.
“I do!” Riley exclaims.
“I know, honey.”
“But I really do!”
“I know, honey.”
“I don’t want to be either,” Maya says. She motions at the wild mess of hair across from her. She points at the other girl with her fork and says, “I want to help her be one instead.”
“Yes! She can come over for dinner again! Maybe even this week! Maybe even tomorrow!”
The children look at the adults; Maya’s calm chewing, kicking of legs, and general casualty as she talks to Topanga suggests that she’s not all that concerned about whatever the adults have to say, but her eyes say differently. Let me stay, they say. Make me come back.
“How about this?” Cory begins, looking over at his wife, “What do you think about her staying the night?”
His child grins. Her best friend shuts down. Dinner, she’s already managed to get herself prepared for. A sleepover? She doesn’t even have her pajamas with her! Or a toothbrush, or a regular hair brush, or clothes for her to change into for school tomorrow, or anything at all. All she has here right now are some schoolbooks she was ordered to bring home, the jacket that she’s wearing, and the clunky old flip phone in her pocket.
“I’ll bring you chocolate.”
Still nothing. She’s not even looking at him now.
“Look,” his voice softens even more, “We want you here. We aren’t going to make you stay if you don’t want to.”
“You... want me here?”
He nods. “Yes.”
“...And you’ll give me a lot of chocolate? Not just a little bit?”
“Of course.”
She pauses, thinking. She crosses her arms. “Okay... if you really want me here, I guess it would be rude to just leave.” Her eyes, though, are bright, now. They make it obvious that she’s not upset anymore.
When the two girls eventually run away again, Shawn turns to Cory, questioning.
“How did you do that?”
He looks back and smirks.
“Lots of practice.”
*****
“I just want to help her, dad!”
The next day, Riley enters the apartment the same explosive way that she had the day before.
This time, though, she’s sad. Or, you know, somewhat sad. Not looking like actual sunshine, at least. It’s a bit disconcerting to see, actually.
“How do I help her?” She tosses her backpack aside and instantly moves to curl up against her dad on the couch. She doesn’t mention the lack of Shawn again. She ignores it. Once again, her mind is on its own wavelength. “I need to know!”
“You just be there for her, Riley.” Cory gets up and pulls the brunette onto his lap. She accepts his attempt of comforting her and sits down huffily.
“She’s so mad all the time, and I’m not mad all the time so it’s really different for me and I don’t know what to do.”
“You be there for her. Sometimes,” he looks over at the kitchen table, to where Topanga is on the phone, “Sometimes that’s all you can do. All you need to do.” He hugs his little girl a bit tighter. “Sometimes, that’s what makes a world of difference.”
“So,” she tilts her head up ever so slightly, “So I just be her friend. I just... be like you?”
His heart melts. When his little girl is smiling and being supportive and just being the best that she could be, and even then, she still wants to be just like him- he can’t help but grin. Topanga, watching them, is doing the same with soft, pleased eyes.
“I can be like you,” she says with a determined nod. Before he can react, her eyes are already fluttering over to her mom, who’s still talking happily into the phone, grinning now. Once the woman sets her phone down, she instantly heads into the living room and takes a seat in the empty area beside her daughter. “You,” the six-year old says, pointing. She says in a matter of fact tone, “You fix things.”
The parents share a mirth-filled gaze.
“I guess so. What brought this on?” She’s only been half-way listening to their conversation, seeing as she was busy with her own up until now. (And the TV was on. That didn’t help things either. She would have gone in to turn it down, but she didn’t want to interrupt or distract the other two, so she just left it alone.)
“You can fix me. You can fix Maya.”
The next gaze between the adults isn’t as amused. Concerned, maybe.
“You don’t need fixing,” the woman says firmly.
“Neither does Maya,” Cory says in the same steady, sure tone.
“I know she doesn’t, but-“
“No buts, honey. Why do you want her to get fixed? There’s nothing wrong with her.”
“I know that. It’s just...” the very brief irritation from her completely melts away. She slumps down, dejected. “I just want her to be happy.”
“It’ll take time, sweetie. Nothing’s instant.”
She points in between Cory and Topanga. “Some things are. You two instantly came to sit with me just now, didn’t you?”
“That’s right, this time we did, but we can’t always do that,” the blonde says, rubbing Riley’s shoulder.
“Like how one of us can be here with you at night but the other can’t,” Cory agrees, metaphorically tagging himself back into the conversation. “So even though you want something, like that for example, it won’t come instantly. Like happiness. It can take a long time. All the best things are worth waiting for.”
“How would you know?” she asks, the words somehow not coming across as accusatory despite the fact that she actually meant them that way for once. “You’re a pretty happy guy, daddy.” She kicks her legs and looks back up.
“I’ve had experience in this.”
“How?”
“Yeah, Cory.” Topanga looks down at her cell phone and back over at her husband, shooting him a warning look that he completely misses. She mouths, tread carefully. “How?”
He blinks at her, then, in a slow voice as if explaining this to a child, (which, you know, he actually is, so that’s fitting,) “Sometimes it takes a long time to be happy. Sometimes it never fully comes- but you never give up.” He shakes her shoulder. “ Never give up. Maya is your best friend, right?”
She nods. “Forever and ever. Thunder!” She pumps one tiny fist into the air, watching as her silver ring blings brightly in the artificial light. She looks around the living room and sighs. “I forgot that she’s at home right now- or, well, her home, anyway.” She says that as she lowers her arm down slowly until her hand rests on her lap. “That would work a lot better if she was here.”
“I think that answers my question,” Cory chuckles. “So, you’re always going to stand by her, right? Support her when the times get rough?”
“Always!” her voice comes out squeaky and high, but she sincerely means it. There’s nothing that she could mean more.
“Then it’ll all turn out just fine.”
*****
Three.
“Cory!”
Topanga, nine-months pregnant and just about ready to explode in more ways than one, screams out. She’s sitting on the couch, eyeing the clock on the wall with a sense of overwealming anxiousness, and shouts again. Clearly, the first time didn’t quite take. She pants. “CORY!”
“WHAT?” Her husband calls out from the other side of their apartment. “I’M KIND OF BUSY!” he snaps back at her loudly from Riley, (and by extension, Maya’s,) bedroom. He’s helping the two get ready for school and is in no mood to deal with what he presumes is his wife’s mood swings and/or cravings. He’ll deal with it later, he thinks. In his eyes, he’ll finish up and get her whatever she wants, and it’ll all be fine. No big deal.
In reality, she’s not calling for him for something so simple as food. It’s for a much more urgent reason. He doesn’t exactly know that yet, though. Hence the snappiness.
“CORY!”
“I’M BUSY!” he loudly repeats himself.
“I DON’T HAVE THE TIME FOR THIS SHIT!” She deliberately ignores the sound of shocked gasping from the bedroom. She’s not entirely sure that the sound came from either of the children.
That’s confirmed when she hears a scandalized sounding, “TOPANGA!” She can picture her husband throwing his hands over the kid’s ears so well that it’s like they’re all right in front of her. She’d ponder more on that, maybe, if she wasn’t in pain.
There’s a short, painful gasp from her. Then, she exclaims, “I’M GOING INTO LABOR!”
That finally does the trick.
Cory comes flying into the living room.
“You’re what?” he says, with the expression of somebody who just got sentenced to a slow and painful death.
“My water broke,” she tersely replies. “I need you to either call an ambulance or drive me to the hospital.”
“I-wha-huh- what about the subway? Public transit? Can’t you just do that? I can call in Mr. Turner? Or Shawn? Or Angela?” he chuckles nervously, throwing his arms up in the air by the end of his ramble. “They’re all in town right now, too!”
“I’m not taking the freaking subway or a bus when I’m in labor. Jonathan’s in town but he’s incredibly busy right now. He’s probably already at work. Shawn’s car is so busted up and slow that I hardly trust it when I’m not about to pop, and Angela’s on her way back to the nearest airport to catch her flight. So that leaves you. I’d rather not waste thousands of dollars on a ten minute ambulance ride, especially when I’m about to be spending tens of thousands of dollars to have this stupid baby, so drive me to the fucking hospital, Cory!”
Cory pauses. Looks at the kids, looks at Topanga, looks at the wall, looks at the duffel bag laying at his feet, looks at the backpacks and clothes slung haphazardly over a dining chair. Looks at the clock. Looks at his phone... and he finally shoots into action.
“You,” he points at a confused Maya, “Get Topanga into my car.” He seems to not notice that a seven-year old child might not have the muscles or strength to carry a pregnant woman downstairs. If anyone else catches onto that, they’re all too frazzled to really point it out.
“What about school-“
“Normally, I’d be ecstatic that you actually care, but we can deal with that later. Go.”
She nods, and with the man’s help, gets the pained twenty-seven year old to her feet and, miraculously, but slowly, out the door.
“You,” he points at Riley as the door slams shut, “Will also need to get into the car, but not yet.”
“Are we skipping school?” she questions, equal parts upset and excited. She’s upset about the fact that her mother is in pain, and, oddly enough, about the fact that she believes she can’t go to school today... but she’s also really excited over the fact that there’s about to be a new member in her little family. (Well, not so little, but it’s not like everyone is there. Or at least, not yet. She wouldn’t be all that surprised if most everyone she knows shows up at the hospital within the next few hours.)
“I’m not sure yet.” He pauses, then shakes his head. “Probably not, but if you do go, I’ll probably end up pulling you out early.”
“Then what’s the point of going?” She’s dangerously close to a pout, and lets out a resigned sigh that doesn’t last more than three seconds.
“You need an education, Riley.”
“I’m getting a new brother, Daddy.”
“I know that-“
“Hey, wait. You don’t have the time to get me and Maya to school right now, right?”
He squints, trying to decipher the hidden meaning behind his little girl’s words. There’s really no point to it- she gives him the answer before he can start in on any conspiracy theories.
“Can’t Shawn just take us? You said that he’s here in town.”
Cory pauses. He didn’t think of that. “Oh. That’s a good idea.”
Riley nods, pleased by her own intelligence and the praise that occasionally comes with it. “Yeah. Then he can just meet you and Mom at the hospital. It’s simple.” She shrugs as nonchalantly as she could manage, but a shred of nervousness still shines through anyway.
“Right!” Cory claps his hands together. “Game plan!” He takes a running leap into the kitchen, grabs a phone, dials a number, and puts on the speaker phone.
“CORY!” Topanga shrieks. It must be loud, and it’s probably loud enough to disturb the neighbors, because the duo can hear her from the apartment. They had yet to leave it.
Topanga, though, is probably in the parking lot by now.
“What the heck?” a confused voice questions from the other end of the phone. “Is everything alright over there?”
“Shawn! Yeah, just gimmie a minute-“
“CORY GET OVER HERE! HURRY!”
Cory nods once, then twice, then takes control once again. He’s marginally more successful this time.
“Shawn, there’s got to be some way you can get to my place and either take the girls to school or just get here and babysit them for a while. Either way,” he shoots yet another glance at the clock, which confirms just what he thought it would- the two seven-year olds are already late. Way late. “Either way, please just come.”
“Cory,” Shawn says slowly, suspiciously, “I’m on my way to the airport. I have a really important assignment that I’m starting tomorrow. You know that.”
He does. It’s an assignment that Shawn’s been looking forward to for weeks, maybe even months. He’s in- or going to be on- his way to Bali, because he’s recently been hired to be a photographer for a really lavish (in his terms, anyway.) wedding. He’s been talkative and more excited than he’s been in what seems like years, (but probably wasn’t.) It eventually got to the point where his enthusiasm got to everyone else, too, which just resulted in a more chaotic than usual, energetic Matthews group. (And Shawn, but he’s pretty much a Matthews anyway.)
“Okay I know but this is really, really important. Can’t you just take a later flight? Maybe tomorrow?”
“I don’t know if you know, because you’re a major homebody now and all, but getting an international flight isn’t exactly cheap.”
“We’ll pay for it!” Riley blurts out. Her dad turns to stare at her, and she only shrugs. So what, she only has three dollars worth of coins in her piggy bank? She’ll figure it out. She can make some lemonade and sell it. Surely that’ll make her some cold, hard cash.
“ Riley won’t.”
Riley shrugs a second time. That option is probably much easier anyway.
“Wait,” says Shawn. There’s some papers ruffling around, and an unfamiliar voice in the background asking what’s going on. He ignores that. “It’s already nine o’clock in the morning. Why aren’t you in school, baby Cory?”
“Hey-“ the namesake tries to protest.
Riley, however, has no issue with it. Or at least, no real issue. She shoots off an offhanded, “I’m not a baby,” before she tries to answer the question at hand. “And I’m not at school because there is a baby.” She pauses for a second. “Or, well, there will be a baby. It’s a little distracting, and everybody is screaming, so that’s why I’m not in school yet.”
“I- Cory, why didn’t you just start off with that?”
“Which Cory?” questions Riley at the same time that the actual Cory is yelling,
“I don’t know what to do! I’m panicking! Help me!”
“I thought you had this under control,” a little blonde is saying from behind them. “So did Mrs. Matthews, for some stupid reason. She has all this faith in you.” She wrinkles her nose.
“It’s disgusting.”
Cory swings around to face her. She’s standing in the open doorway, scowling lightly at the two and occasionally shooting worried glances behind her shoulder, even though nothing is actually there.
“I think you should really get going.”
“Probably,” Cory agrees with not as much urgency as he probably should have. He quickly snaps out of that, though. At this point he’s just rapidly going back and forth in between being a functional, responsible parent, and just acting like the general wreck he was at fifteen-years old. He has multiple witnesses to this, and one of them is just outside the apartment complex. “But I need to deal with-“
He doesn’t get the chance to finish what he was attempting to say. One second there’s a blue eyed, blonde haired little girl impatiently tapping her foot and crossing her arms, standing a significant distance away, and the next second, that same aforementioned first grader is trying to steal his cell phone like she’s some middle-aged robber you might find in a dark alleyway.
“Hello,” she shouts out, still trying to wrestle Cory for full access of the phone. He’s hardly even protesting, he hardly did in the first place, and he’s slowly beginning to think that fighting, (even and especially when she doesn’t actually throw a punch,) is her main mode of communication to any adult that she’s ever met. He tries to just hand her the device she’s so desperately seeking, but she doesn’t quite seem to notice that he’s trying to help, because she simply tries harder and harder until she catches Cory rolling his eyes.
“You need to get here,” she says tensely. If you looked close enough at her, with her proper posture, clenched fists, dug in heels, and furrowed eyebrows, you would have thought that this mess was her responsibility, despite the fact that she’s way too young to have a baby.
She’s only seven. She’s practically still one herself, in the grand scheme of things.
“I told you, I have a flight,” Shawn says, even though he actually told his best friend that and not some odd kid that he’s hardly even met. If he even cares about the fact that she’s the one talking to him now, he makes no indication of it. He keeps talking in the same matter-of-fact tone of voice anyways. He takes a long, deep breath, and for a second or two they’re all convinced that he’s going to try and get out of coming, but instead he mumbles out a curse, honks his rusty old car’s horn, sighs, and says, “I’m on my way. Can you all handle yourselves without me for twenty more minutes?” He mumbles something out again, this time much too low for the others to even know what language he’s speaking in. All they know is that it’s an unfamiliar one. He switches back over to English when addressing them all again. “Maybe thirty.”
“If I can get Mr. Matthews here to leave, we’ll be fine.”
“He needs to go!” agrees Riley, who’s getting more and more impatient the longer her dad hovers around them. She just wants her little brother to be born, dang it! Why is that so much to ask?
“CORY! I’M GOING TO KILL YOU!” a loud, loud, loud shout comes.
Cory nods. He’s pretty sure that she could kill him. “Time to go!”
He leans down and grabs a big overnight bag that they’d all prepared just for this moment as he scoots closer to the kids.
“I’ll talk to you later, honey.” He says to presumably Riley. “Love you.” He leans down and kisses her forehead.
Maya, beside her, has one hand occupied with the phone, but the other is wide open and held in a wave goodbye. Cory, as he leans down to kiss her forehead too, doesn’t seem to notice. He’s so distracted that he also doesn’t notice her dazed expression and the small, sweet little grin she’s shooting him as he tells her, “Love you.”
Then, with everything mostly handled,
he runs out the door.
*****
Four.
“This is so unfair!”
Riley stomps her way into the living room, frowning. She tosses her backpack onto the floor and, without even the slightest bit of explanation, whips around and tries to deadbolt the front door shut. She misses the way her parents frown over her head, and the way that their visitor, (she doesn’t know who he is, only that she doesn’t know him but that he’s clearly not an intruder, judging by the familiar way her parents are talking to him, and they don’t just hand off their good coffee cups to strangers,) blinks in blank confusion.
Her frantic attempt of forcing the apartment into some sort of a lockdown does not actually work very well. It goes even worse when Auggie, who she forgot was even outside, scolds her in the childish, shrill way that only a two-year old can manage.
“Hey! Not nice!”
“I agree!” Maya calls out from the other side. She huffs. “Not cool, Riley!”
“Maya?” questions Cory, hoping that someone will fess up and tell him what’s going on here,
and with how irritated she sounds during only the three words that she spoke, he figures that it’ll be her.
Sure enough- “Riley’s mad at me and I’m mad at her so she’s trying to keep me away until tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow?” Why specifically tomorrow, is what he wants to know.
“Yeah. Pilot season starts tomorrow. I legally can’t be left alone for very long, I’m sure.”
“You’re right,” Topanga agrees with a scowl. She would know. “You can’t.”
Maya’s mother is attempting to be an actress. It’s not going very well, and it never really has. Every time pilot season begins, she packs up as little as necessary and skips out of town for days- and on one instance- even weeks, on end. Sometimes she takes Maya with her, but most of the time she just leaves her with a babysitter or with the Matthews clan. Despite the fact that the Matthews are always happy to watch her, they’re never happy that Katy is always so willing to run off and leave, even though it’s always only temporary. It reminds them too much of a situation long ago that went really wrong really fast...
And it would have probably gone a heck of a lot worse, if not for the (not really) mysterious visitor in their kitchen.
Said visitor is calmly sipping at his coffee and reading a newspaper, half trying to ignore everyone and half desperately wanting to know what’s going on here. He’s not the only one.
Topanga shoots Riley a look. “You two never fight. What’s going on?”
“She thinks she knows what’s best for me!” Maya instantly answers before the brunette can even have the opportunity to open her mouth. “She’s butting into my life!”
“What is she doing?” She doesn’t stop and try to take her daughter’s side on this, because she knows very well that butting into people’s lives is a pretty common occurrence for that little girl now a days.
“She told me that I shouldn’t stay with my mom for Christmas and that my mom needs to get off of work and spend some more time with me if she wants to be a good mother.”
Topanga shoots another look, this one much more accusatory. “Riley!”
“What?” the nine-year old calls back defensively. She doesn’t even try to deny it as she crosses her arms. “It’s true!”
“It’s not your place to say!” That sounds an awfully lot not like denial. Everyone that’s inside the building stares at her for it. “Let her inside.”
Riley doesn’t move.
“ Now.”
With a decidedly not pleased sigh, she obeys.
Maya, who’s soaking wet, glares angrily up at Riley. Neither girl says anything- they just stare at one another. Eventually, one of them decides its time to move, judging by the way Maya clenches little Auggie’s wet hand tightly and pushes her way into the living room. She quickly stops short.
She shrugs off a small, leather jacket and flings it aside as she says, “That’s new.”
She points over toward the kitchen. She’s greeted by silence.
“You,” she says, still pointing, “What are you?”
It’s not ‘who are you,’ it’s ‘ what are you.’ Nobody asks what the difference is. She probably wouldn’t tell them anyway.
“I’m Jonathan,” Jonathan says, albeit a bit cautiously. He eyes her jacket, draped lifelessly over the couch, and keeps his eyes on it for a second or two before focusing in on its owner. He motions over at the other two adults. “I used to teach them in high school for a little while. Besides Feeny, I’m probably one of the only teachers they actually had. We’re all friends now.”
Maya doesn’t look very convinced. “Why are you here?” She hones in on Cory. “Why is he here?”
“Because we invited him.”
“So, he’s here on purpose?”
He nods.
Much to his confusion, that doesn’t seem to help anything, not really. For a second or two she looks relieved, but it doesn’t last very long.
Like a switch was flipped, she goes from relieved to highly suspicious in about two seconds flat.
She stares over at Jonathan again. He’s looking back at his newspaper. “How much did you hear?”
“Not much.”
She squints. “I don’t believe you. What did you hear?”
“Something about you being mad at Riley for telling your mother off for working? And something about pilot season?” Even though Jonathan has that little bit of information, it doesn’t clear the slightest thing up. He’d really like an explanation by now, thanks.
“Yeah.” She lifts up her chin defiantly, even though nobody’s scolding her or telling her what to do and therefore, there’s actually nobody to defy. She doesn’t seem to care, though. “What are you going to do about it?”
“Uh,” says Jonathan, a bit out of his depth and just looking for some more coffee and not looking forward to being confronted with a child who thinks she’s all hard and tough- oh fuck he’s done this before, here we go again- he sets his cup down. Reluctantly. He doesn’t know this child. Why would he know what to do? Why would she ask him? He doesn’t even know her name! “I really don’t know what’s going on right now, so.” He looks over at Cory. “I think I’m just going to stay out of this one and let this guy handle it.”
He pats Cory on the shoulder. Cory glares.
Cory glares, but he steps right up anyway. “Okay, I need some more information, but before we start, park it.”
She does. So does Auggie, who she’s yet to let go of. She clenches his hand even tighter. He doesn’t seem to care, though. He grips hers right back.
“Okay. So, let me get this straight, your mom won’t be back to take care of you tomorrow?”
“I thought we were going to rant about Riley,” grumps a disappointed Maya. She sighs, blows some hair out of her face, and admits, “Yeah. She’s off to LA again to go film some pilots or something like that.”
“Do you have someplace to stay?”
“Yeah.” The little girl blinks, and, as if it was obvious, says, “I’m going to keep coming over here, but mostly, I’m just going to stay at home.”
Multiple voices cry out all at once.
“No offense, but that sounds like a horrible idea.” Jonathan is shaking his head.
Auggie yells, “No!” and holds her hand a little tighter.
“Absolutely not!” Cory and Topanga screech out in complete and utter unison.
Nobody hears what Riley has to say, mostly because the combined outcry simply drowns her out.
“Maya,” Cory says slowly, leaning down to her level, “Why would Riley purposely leave you out until tomorrow, when your mother will be gone?”
“To make me miserable,” she grumbles, crossing her arms.
“No, honey,” he says with a smile and a shake of his head. “She’s annoyed with you, and you’re annoyed with her, but she would never do anything to hurt you.”
“Well, it wouldn’t hurt me, but it would make me miserable. I wouldn’t be surprised if she does that, we’ve made each other miserable before.”
“How long is your mother going to be gone?” Jonathan, who had been watching in mostly silence, decides to ask the main question that’s stuck on his mind.
Maya pauses, then shrugs. “Dunno.”
She doesn’t miss how all of the adults shoot one another a concerned look.
“That’s... not good.”
She shrugs. “It is what it is.”
“Maya, honey, there’s no way that we’re going to let you be by yourself, especially not during Christmas time,” Topanga tells her softly, but firmly.
“Well, it’s not Christmas yet-“
“Maya,” says Cory, much firmer than Topanga. (Which usually doesn’t happen. It’s usually the other way around.) “You’re staying here until your mother gets back, and possibly even longer than that.”
“Why longer?” she asks, eyes wide.
“If you want to. If you don’t want to, then you can go ahead and leave as soon as she’s back for good,” he explains.
“...Do I have to to stay here?” she sounds hesitant.
“Yes. You have to.”
“But Riley.”
“Maya,” says Riley, who’s been rather quiet for this whole conversation. “No matter how mad you are at me, and no matter how mad I am with you, I’m not ditching you. I’m not letting you be by yourself during Christmas... but I do still want to punch you in the face.”
For someone who was almost threatened by her best friend, she takes that in stride pretty darn well. She ignores it, mostly. “We wouldn’t even be in this mess right now if you hadn’t yelled at my mom.”
“I didn’t yell,” she says, sounding offended. “But I was very clear about how angry we are.”
“I’m... I’m not even angry at her. I’m angry at you!”
“Your mom needs to come to her senses-“
“You need to butt out of what me and my mom do-“
“No, I don’t! Clearly you’re not confronting her about it-“
“She has to work! How do you not understand that she has to work?”
“She’s leaving you right before Christmas!”
“You’re so dramatic,” huffs Maya, as if she hasn’t even been the slightest bit dramatic during their fight. “It is two weeks to Christmas. It’s not like it’s right around the corner, or anything! I’m probably not even going to be here come Christmastime. My mom will be back from LA by then, and if she’s not, then I’ll figure something out!”
“How stupid are you? My parents just explained that you aren’t going anywhere. You’re stuck with us. I’m stuck with you. Deal with it! At least now you’ll be somewhere warm with people who care enough to take the time and bond with you while we’re both on winter break. Unlike some people.” The last two words are pointed at Katy, who’s clearly not here, because if she was then the two nine-year-olds wouldn’t even have a reason to argue in the first place.
“My mom cares about me, Riley. She just needs to work. I wouldn’t have any Christmas at all if she didn’t work.”
“She’s not even working! You said it yourself, she’s going to California! Her work is here, in New York! You know that she’s not going to get anything accomplished over there, so why won’t you just accept that she’s in the wrong on this one?”
“Should we interrupt?” Topanga asks her husband as she clutches his arms.
His eyes flicker in between the bickering friends, and he looks like he wants to intervene, but he shakes his head. “No. If they don’t talk, then it’s just going to be worse.”
“It doesn’t seem to be going so well right now,” Jonathan remarks drily. Topanga nods at him, as if silently saying, ‘he has a point.’
“I don’t know if this counts as just talking,” Topanga hesitantly agrees. “This could be bad. It already isn’t good.”
“They need to talk it out,” Cory says, sounding determined. “If they bottle it all up, it’s just going to make everything so much worse.”
Any retorts are interrupted by Riley going, “Your mom isn’t even working, Maya! She’s going to be gone tomorrow! Sure, she’s coming back, but still! Why can’t you just accept that?”
“Because she can’t leave me!” Maya, who’s been doing really well with the back and forth without actually giving up any details, finally breaks. “I hate pilot season! I hate how every single time she does this, she’s off living her so called dream or whatever, and I’m left behind because she just didn’t want to bring me. Apparently, I’m never a part of the dream.” She scoffs. “It never changes. And you,” she swirls around to face her best friend, then, “You’re not helping! Riley, you’re just making it even worse!”
Riley, who’s been walking around aimlessly for the past few minutes, completely screeches to a halt. Her eyes water, her fists clench, and everyone around her braces themselves for one of the rare, but exhausting, explosions that the little brunette is prone to having every few years or so- or months, depending on how bad the issue is. This time, she went about a year. She takes a deep breath, clenches her fist even tighter, begins stalking toward her best friend...
And stops.
“I didn’t mean to upset you,” Riley mumbles as she throws her arms around the little blonde’s neck. Maya blinks and shoots a helpless look over her shoulder. Clearly, that’s not what she was expecting. To her credit, though, she just rolls with it.
“I know,” she says when they separate. She pats the other child’s shoulder. It comes across as awkward. “Thanks.”
Now it’s Riley’s turn to blink incredulously. “What are you thanking me for? Didn’t you say that you’re mad at me right now.”
“Well. Yes. But I do have something to thank you for. I’m going to be staying here, aren’t I?”
“Yeah, but it’s not like I helped things any.” Her shoulders slump. Her watery eyes return with full force. “I really shouldn’t have tried to lock you out. Or scream in your face.”
“Or invade my mother’s diner?” the shorter of the two prompts.
“...”
“Come on.”
“...I don’t want to lie.”
“Just say that you’re sorry and we’ll move on with our lives, okay? I’m sick of fighting.”
Riley pauses. “I’m sorry for upsetting you,” she eventually says. It’s not what Maya’s looking for, and she knows it. Maya’s eye seems to involuntarily twitch, and that’s when Cory decides to step in. They’re finally making some progress. They probably shouldn’t try and ruin it.
“Hey, girls!” he says, trying his best to subtly throw them apart. But, because this is Cory Matthews, and he’s not exactly the most graceful or smooth guy in the world, one girl goes flying into the fluffy, well cushioned couch with a huff. Nobody comments on this; Topanga goes to help her up, despite the fact that she isn’t actually hurt. She blows a light blonde puff of hair out of her face and glares.
“Sorry about that, Maya.”
She shrugs, but she’s still frowning. Whether it’s at him or at Riley or at Katy or at something else entirely, Cory can’t quite tell. He doesn’t want to badger her on it right now, anyway.
“It’s fine, Mr. Matthews. And, uh.” She looks down at her feet. Her bright blue sneakers are a pretty good distraction. They’re pretty helpful for when she wants to avoid eye contact like this. “Thanks. For, you know.” She motions up and down at herself, then at the rest of the living room and its occupants. “Letting me stay here and all. I guess. Oh, and, you too, Mrs. Matthews.”
“I have nothing to do with this,” a brimming with pride Topanga says as she shoots a love filled grin at both her husband and her daughter’s best friend. (Who, you know, is pretty much her daughter at this point anyway... and she’s only known the kid for two years. To be fair, though, she’s only known Auggie for two years, too. The only real difference there is that Auggie is biologically hers- but that doesn’t mean everything. She pauses and thinks about Shawn, Jack, Mr, Feeny, Eric, Rachel, Angela, Cory, the whole rest of the Matthews family, Jonathan- the whole dang group. None of them are biologically related to her, either, but that doesn’t really change anything. Shawn is like a brother to her, maybe a brother-in-law, however that goes. Jack, technically being related to him, is thrown into the mix, too, but she feels that she was close enough to him at one point in time that he would make that list on his own, too.
Mr. Feeny is undoubtably family. He’s one of those few day one’s that several people are bound to get in their lives. For crying out loud, Auggie already considers him as his grandfather, even though he’s yet to actually say that to the man. Not in fear of rejection or anything, because he’s already picking up on how Mr. Feeny will say something to indicate that he doesn’t quite like you, but then he’ll go ahead and act like he loves you. That man has taught her much more than... well, anyone, really.
She and Cory haven’t really seen Eric, Rachel, and Angela as often as they like to, though. Eric still pops in every now and then, more often than the other two do, but she can’t help but feel like it’s not enough. She’s known Eric forever- as long as she’s known Cory and Shawn, and that’s saying something. They don’t talk all the time, they don’t get along perfectly always, but he’s pretty much her brother, in more ways than one. Rachel and Angela are still the greatest, and she trusts them a lot.
Now, Cory, the rest of his side of the family, and Jonathan? That’s a lot to get into, especially since there’s a few of them in the room already... but that’s beside the point. She would go around shouting on the rooftops about how much she loves them all, how much she could probably take a bullet for them, how much she loves them and needs them safe and protected.
No doubt about it, in one way or another, they’re all connected, and they’re all family.)
She watches as Cory shuffles around into the kitchen, phone in one hand and a bag full of something that’s probably less healthy than she would prefer in the other. She watches as he then makes a smooth exit back into the living room and passes both of these items off to a confusedly blinking Maya.
“What’s these for?”
“Well, the phone, to call your mom and explain that we’re going out for dinner.” He looks around the room. “Everyone’s invited.”
“What’s with the...” she trails off, squinting suspiciously into the bag. “...The cookies?” she questions as she picks one cookie up in one hand and accepting the phone with the other.
“For dessert.”
“Okay?” She looks even more confused than ever, now. “Where are we going for dinner?”
His eyes light up. “I know the most amazing little diner that we can all go to, but look.” He places a hand on her shoulder as the goofy grin melts off his face and slips into a faux serious frown. “You can’t tell anyone about this. We can’t have it becoming some big, popular thing, ya know?”
She nods. She looks significantly less lost and/or concerned, now. Whatever he’s saying is working.
“Are you bribing me to stay here? I thought we’ve already established that you and Mrs. Matthews are making me.”
“Oh, we are!” he says it cheerfully.
“Then what’s with the dinner?”
“It’s a tradition,” he explains, matter-of-fact. What he does not mention is that only family is allowed in on this particular tradition. Riley and Auggie, who grin up at their mother, have clearly picked up on that. So has Jonathan, for that matter. He’s smiling softly down at Maya, who’s staring around the room as if waiting for something to jump out at her.
Then, she just accepts it.
“Okay.”
*****
Five.
“Dad!”
“Don’t ‘Dad’ me,” says Cory, but any semblance of sternness on his face completely fades away as he spots Riley, who’s making a face at Maya. Maya, who’s sitting beside her, shrugs and picks up her fork.
“What’s this?” Auggie points a kitchen utensil of his own at the two girls. “The reading minds thing?”
“Do you mean telepathy?” Topanga questions.
“I don’t know,” he says with a shrug. “Maybe. Anyway. Why are you two doing it?”
“Yeah, what‘s the matter?” Cory asks when Maya sticks her tongue out and begins chomping down. Cory wonders if either her or Riley are actually all that hungry, seeing that he’s just pulled the two girls out of school about an hour ago, during lunch. When pressed on it, he claimed that one of his girls was sick- Riley had refused to cooperate with that, pulling a pout, but Maya had to force a grin down as she played along, feigning the flu. When Topanga, on the other hand, demanded to know why he yanked them out of school so suddenly, he had told her the truth.
He had a really, really bad feeling about today.
Not about the girls, and not about school, in any way, shape or form. Not about Auggie or Topanga, either. He can’t pinpoint what exactly has him on pins and needles, but he can’t shake the feeling that something, somewhere, is going horribly wrong.
He didn’t want to scare the girls the way he’s already scared, though, so he tells the two eleven-year olds that his stomach is upset and he needed to leave. Judging by the faces the sixth-graders are making at one another, he suddenly really doubts that either one of them are actually buying his story.
That becomes confirmed when Maya drops her fork, looks him straight in the eye, and asks, “Why are you lying to us?”
“What?”
“Why are you lying to us?” she repeats, clear as day. She rests both of her arms on the table in front of her as she kicks her chair in. She leans in closely. “It’s something to do with you, I can tell, but you aren’t sick.”
“What makes you think so?” he asks. A bit of nervousness clearly shows in his expression, no matter how much he tries to hide it. He’s trying hard not to bite his lip or look away, because that’s a sure sign right there... but he doesn’t fully succeed. He slips up just long enough that the interrogative child in front of him knows, undoubtedly, that what she’s accusing him of is true. He’s losing a stare down against an eleven-year old.
Said eleven-year old is well on her way to figuring him out.
He’s lying. He’s hiding something.
And she needs to know what.
“And it doesn’t have anything to do with Mom,” Riley chimes in, pointing at her mother, whose peacefully chowing down on some noodles, accidentally proving Riley’s point. She’s smiling.
“Or Augs.” Auggie, sure enough, is not even the slightest bit distressed. He doesn’t even seem to notice the tension in the room, judging by the way he’s animatedly telling his mom a story about how his day at preschool was yesterday, and how excited he is to go back there later today. He, unlike the rest of the room, didn’t really seem to care exactly why Maya and Riley were home early, but just because they were there, it seemed to improve his already positive mood. “So, what’s the deal?”
“There is no deal, Maya.”
“Come on. Just be honest with us. We’re tough, we can handle it.”
Riley, beside her, is cooing at a butterfly that she spots buzzing around outside one of the windows. Maya dutifully ignores her. She loves her best friend, but that girl is truly no help at all when she’s trying to have a debate about trust and their maturity. It would go much better if the sixth grader in question wasn’t acting Auggie’s age. Usually, Maya loves the innocence and hope that her best friend still has for the world, (keyword: usually,) but this is not the time for it. She needs answers, dang it, and she’s not going to get it if either of them is acting all cute. “Cut it out,” she hisses. It does nothing.
“I don’t know how to explain,” Cory says reluctantly. It’s a start. It’s sure better than nothing- it’s almost an admittance that something is wrong.
“Try.”
He pauses, presumably to gather his thoughts. He does seem to be trying. “Okay. So... do you ever just have a feeling that something is about to go badly, but you can’t quite figure out what?”
To his surprise, she nods. “Felt like that just before my dad left.”
He blinks. That helped nothing at all. That probably made things worse, now that he’s heard that. “Well, that’s reassuring.”
She doesn’t miss a beat. “Chin up, Mr. Matthews. I’m sure everything will be fine. Just ask little miss Peaches over here.” She motions beside her and moves to put a hand on her hyperactive friend’s shoulder, only to notice that she’s no longer there. When she looks up, she spots that the girl is on the phone with somebody. With who, she doesn’t know, for more reasons than one. Riley doesn’t even have a phone.
Then, something else strikes her- the brunette is frowning. Not pouting, or a little ticked off, or something equally annoying but ultimately unconcerning- frowning. Hard core scowling, almost. This is so rare that it feels brand new, as is the expression on her face. Maya’s not sure if she’s ever seen this look on Riley’s face before. She recognizes the look, of course, but she never expected to see it on her beloved Peaches.
Riley is about ten seconds away from absolutely losing it.
Maya opens her mouth to say or do something, but Cory, whose eyes are dark with worry, gets to his feet and yanks the phone- which is actually his own, come to think of it- out of his daughters’ hands and into his own.
“Who’s this and why are you talking to my daughter?”
“Hello, am I speaking with Mr. Matthews?”
“Be more specific!” Riley shouts into the phone. Cory sighs, and, seeing no reason not to, turns on the speaker phone.
To the woman on the other line’s credit, she isn’t frazzled by the shout. She simply asks, “Is this Cory Matthews speaking?”
“This is him...” he trails off suspiciously. What woman would be calling him right now? And what for? He doesn’t recognize her voice. With a quick scan of the room, he realizes that nobody else does, either. Topanga shakes her head at him, brow furrowed in confusion. “Who am I speaking with?”
“Oh, I’m so sorry. My mind must have totally blanked on that part. My name is Melody Anderson. I’m calling on behalf of Liberty View Hospital.”
“Why are you calling?” he asks. Straight and to the point. He ignores the part of his mind that yells, hospital.
Red alert. Red alert. Red alert.
A few seconds later, he sort of wishes that he didn’t demand an answer so quickly.
“It says in the files that I have out in front of me that you’re one of Shawn Hunter’s emergency contacts. Is that correct?”
What. He stares over at Topanga. Mouths, ‘Did you get a call?’ Right as she tries to tell him no, her phone croons out a nostalgic song from the 90’s, and with all the enthusiasm of someone walking to their own funeral, she accepts the call.
“Hello? Who is this?”
“Hello. Am I speaking with Topanga Lawrence-Matthews?”
“Yes... you are.”
The husband and wife meet each other’s gazes from across the room. (Earlier, Cory had gotten up and started pacing.) Neither one of them says a word to one another, but their eyes say it all:
Fuck. This is bad.
Topanga, with even more hesitance than before, slowly turns her volume up.
The three kids in the background are silent and waiting. The dull, professional voices informing them all that Shawn has been in a car accident are far too loud.
“Can you tell me what condition he’s in?” Cory is asking. He’s staring off into space.
“Tell me that he’s alive,” barks out Topanga. Today, it seems that husband and wife have switched roles. They’ve done this before, the whole switching roles thing, but with very minimal success. They’ve never done this in a situation this serious or dire before, though.
This one is going to go down with a crash and a bang.
Today, the usually overexcitable brown haired man is talking in low, desperate tones. The blonde haired woman is demanding respect, demanding fear, demanding it all, if it means that her friend will be alright. She’s almost screaming.
Somehow, they don’t drown each other out.
In the background, Riley is clutching Maya protectively. We’ve got this. I’ve got you.
Topanga, still verbally battling it out with some random nurse, glides her way over to Cory like handling a tragedy is something normal that she does. She snakes in from behind and squeezes him tight. We’ve got this. I’ve got you.
Eventually, they end their calls.
When everyone else has separated from one another and are already flying around the apartment in an attempt to toss things into overnight bags, (they don’t know what they’re dealing with, really, and it’s always better being save rather than sorry,) the two are still tangled up in one another. This reminds them of multiple instances from their childhood: but, unfortunately, a big group huddled up on a hospital room floor, attached to each other like they absolutely can’t bear to let go, is one of the clearest of them all.
They can’t help but feel like they’re going to end up reenacting this tonight.
A few minutes pass in silence. Before Topanga can straighten up and order the kids to do... something, who even knows what- Cory takes charge.
“Maya.”
She freezes, not expecting to be noticed in the midst of chaos. “Yes?”
He tosses a phone at her. It’s not his, this time. He’s holding his both like it’s a bomb and like it’s a lifeline- wearily, held out away from him, but there just the same.
“We’re going to have...” he takes what he hopes to be a steadying breath. It doesn’t do the job the way it’s supposed to. “...A lot of phone calls to make. I don’t know what we’re walking into, but we need to be prepared.”
He pauses. The other kids are still buzzing around like busy bees. He’s not sure if he should stop them or not. He gets back to the task at hand.
“Call Jonathan first. His number should be in there, I’m sure.”
She nods with the determination of a woman on a dangerous, life or death mission.
“Riley,” he calls out. The girl, who’s holding a water bottle in one hand and a string of phone chargers in the other, skids to a halt.
“Yeah, Dad?”
“I need you to put those into whatever bag I’m sure you’re packing right now. When you’re done, I need you to come back in here and help Maya.”
She obeys. As soon as she comes back, she looks up at him with kind eyes and asks, “What will you be doing?”
Everything. “Getting ready.”
“Ready for what?” she can’t help but ask. “Daddy, it’s all going to be fine.”
Ah, yes. Optimism. That’s a thing that exists right now. He kind of forgot about it.
What a whirlwind.
“I know, honey.” His attempt at a reassuring smile comes out bitter and rough. For a few minutes, he thinks that it, along with his panic and desperation, is going to go ignored, not important in comparison of whatever else is going to happen today, and for about an hour or so after that, he’s proven correct.
Until the group of five actually enter the hospital, that is.
“Daddy,” Riley says, looking around the waiting room and at the tons of people sitting there or standing around like they are. “Daddy. How can we help them?”
“We can’t. Not right now.” I’m a bit busy here at the moment. “They’re here to see someone who can.”
“But how are they going to get the help they need if it’s so crowded in here? Won’t they just be sitting here for hours, sick or hurt?” Or both. But yes. Then, she asks, “Can we help Uncle Shawn?”
Despite the fact that he hates this whole situation and desperately wishes that they were all back at the apartment, peacefully eating away their noodle supply, he recognizes the same pained look in her eyes that’s not very well hidden in his own. Despite the fact that he doesn’t feel strong enough to help himself stay strong, let alone anybody else, he tries to keep his little girl as content as he can. He also tries not to feel like his whole world is crashing down.
My goodness, he tries.
“We’re going to do the absolute best that we can do for him.”
“That’s not an answer.” Of course she would pick up on that. Smart little rat.
Deciding that it’s probably for the best to keep her at her hopeful and happy self, he probably makes what could be considered a bad decision- he looks at those dark brown eyes... and lies right in her face.
“We’re going to do the best we can. He’s going to be just fine, just you watch. He’s going to go back to terrorizing us all over the phone in no at all. It’ll be like nothing ever happened.” He pauses as he spots a nearby vending machine. He spots a (very) temporary out to the conversation. Slipping a dollar or two out of his coat pocket, he says, “Here, go buy yourself something.”
She walks away. Maya slides right up into the space that she had abandoned.
“So, do you actually believe any of the fairy tails that you’re spitting at her?”
Lying wont help this time. This kid has already seen right through it, and he hasn’t even tried to pull anything on her yet. So, now honesty is the only policy. “I have to at least try. If I can’t at least try to hope for the better, then what can I do? I’m a teacher, for crying out loud. I gotta try and practice what I preach.”
“Yeah. At school, maybe, but we’re not in school right now. You don’t have to be a teacher, or a dad, or In Charge, or anything at all, really. I still think hope is for suckers, but I’m beginning to see the effect that it can have on other people.” If that last bit is meant to segue into another topic entirely, she makes no indication of it. “Hope seems like it might be able to help other people.” Not me, she thinks. Never me. “But. On my end of the spectrum?” she scoffs. “I’m not as gullible or trusting as Princess Rainbow Sunshine over there. Right now, you seem like me. You’re not letting yourself dive into positivity and severe denial.” She pauses. “Please try not to take this the wrong way, but it’s kind of refreshing, actually.”
“Refreshing?” he questions. (What the actual heck is going on right now, he questions. Am I having a heartfelt conversation with this kid right now? How do I make it stop? Do I press A? Is this like a video game?)
“Yeah. It makes you a bit less... perfect. Makes you seem more like a realistic person now. Like I know that you’ve had problems in your life, of course, because everybody has. But all of this,” she motions around her vaguely. “It’s... not good. It really, really sucks. No getting out of that. You’re here just... soldiering through, though. Taking it head on. How?” she peers up at him, sounding as impressed as he’s ever heard her. And that’s saying something, because he’s known her since she was six, and has seen and heard a lot. That’s a whole five years that he’s known her, now. “How are you doing this?”
He points out in three different directions- over at Riley, then Auggie, then, slowly, at her. “I have kids. I have to be tough.”
“No, you don’t. Not with us.” She gulps. Hesitantly, she reaches for his hand. An attempt at comforting him, he realizes. Not a halfhearted one, either. This is Maya truly trying.
He’s not quite sure how he got through to her.
She squeezes his hand and looks right back up at him with her blue, shining eyes. They’re shining bright, full of unshed tears and sincerity.
“We’re your family.” To emphasize her point, she squeezes a little tighter. “And we’re never letting you go.”
*****
+1.
A day or two later, Shawn is let out of the hospital.
The second he sees him enter the waiting room, Cory crushes him in as tight of a hug as he dared. When the two part, both of them are smiling, now. The smiles widen as they, along with the rest of the group, head outside.
The sun sunshine, as it tends to do, and in a rainy New York, it feels right.
But today, you see, is a little bit different. Today it feels extra special.
It feels like the sun is shining just for them.
So Cory lifts his head up and basks in the glorious, warmth filled light. He looks around the small outdoor area that some of his family is surrounding, huddled around Shawn protectively, and he can’t help but be so pleased and so, so relieved.
He can breathe.
He can finally let loose and just be.
The end.