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It was quite an evening to receive a call from someone as prestigious as a member of parliament and have it mean almost nothing at all. Rachel’s initial overwhelming presentation of personality left little to be forgotten, rather worn smooth by familiarity, like a wooden writing desk. Her smile held a witchcraft of sorts even Daley, oblivious as he could be, was able to become aware of. The only trouble was that these charms were only revealed when you knew her well enough, and would not let her go. Daley, having thought himself initially too simple, hadn’t expected to be caught in her orbit.
He had to admit, being Rachel Fawcett’s friend was somewhat exhilarating. You always heard about a bill, a law, being evaluated by the collective. Her opinions were more specific compared to most general parties. Daley got a glimpse into the kind of world that would make him chuckle nervously if he were ever presented with the opportunity to indulge. She was exciting, that much was true. She was over a decade younger than he was yet inexplicably amicable with his wife and family. She could be the getaway driver just as much as she could be the police officer.
Rachel’s reason for needed to be noticed, remembered, she had clarified, was less sinister than one would expect. Flicking through her childhood photo albums, seeing the transition of a boarding school student to unusually mature university student all with a notable lack of companions spoke for itself. Rachel was chronically lonely, even in the finest of company. Daley cursed under his breath at the idea of being the kind of father Rachel’s was, he wouldn’t have been able to forgive himself. She seemed otherwise unaffected, but Daley couldn’t imagine a world without his father in it.
He was up later than his body was used to, weighed by exhaustion that had began to win leading into his mid-forties, Daley wasn’t one to disagree with himself anymore. He was reading something, though truthfully he’d forgotten to replace the lenses in his glasses, and his vision wasn’t as good as it could’ve been. Daley was content to let things be in his conduit of a routine. Rachel pushed against the narrative, but sometimes it was like restarting your own heart. She was never afraid to break new ground, while Daley had a moral dilemma over the wrong spoon for his cereal.
‘I don’t like cereal’ Rachel had sneered, pouring something into her tea ‘miserable stuff, like poetry.’
Daley picked up the phone in a haze, his fingers feeling detached from his palm. Perhaps he was coming down with something. She worked best at night apparently, because she sounded very awake.
“Daley.” Rachel spoke with her twinge of self-assurance, like she was naming him.
“Rachel?” He replied tiredly, confused and awfully curious. Nobody got house calls like Daley Butcher.
“I have a question for you-“
“For the last time, I do not want to be told the football scores, do not spoil it again” Daley interrupted, pinching the bridge of his nose.
“-a serious question. Jesus, you think I’d call to spoil a game?” Rachel inquired sharply.
They were both silent for a moment, it seemed to bring him back to reality. Rachel huffed a laugh
“Actually, I so would” Daley laughed too, a smile easily gracing his features with her interesting humour. He yawned loud enough for her to hear.
“Ask me then, I’m falling asleep”
“Not all of us are cantankerous old men, you know” Rachel somehow sneered her words, Daley could picture the face she was making almost perfectly. He groaned without malice
“Rachel, please.”
She hesitated, he heard a start and a swift stop. Daley was almost worried she had gotten scared by something, or had left the phone completely. Then she cleared her throat.
“Do you think that daughters are easy to forget?” Well, if there were ever a thing to say to both wake him up and sober him, that would be it.
“I beg your pardon?” Daley asked “I don’t think I understand what you mean.” Rachel huffed irritably, like everyone was supposed to be in her head. This was so unlike the snarky yet good-humoured Rachel he was used to.
“I was thinking,” She sighed tiredly, and the illusion was broken again. She was just as exhausted as he was, yet so pestered by her thoughts that she had to call. To be heard, to be remembered. “About your boy, how dear he is to me. He is not even mine, and I cannot picture myself giving up a single thing in favour of being away from him. He is not mine, and I could not leave him, Daley.” Now he could see where this was going, even with blurry vision.
“Sometimes parents make decisions that impact their children in ways they don’t intend,” He touched the greying strands of hair around his hairline “you would not choose, no, but may be put in a situation where you must.”
“We both know that is not the case” She said firmly, almost angrily. Daley’s brow creased.
“Are we talking about my son or your father, Rachel?” He immediately regretted his question, it was far too late to backtrack. He held his breath, ready for the fight that burned in Rachel’s being, the fury of someone who believes they are right and just. But she hesitated again, and another illusion was broken, she could be wounded.
“I’m sorry” She seethed through her teeth more with sadness than anger, and Daley’s resolve melted.
“For what?”
“Such a ridiculous question. It is not the child’s fault, and to place it on mein liebchen, I am sorry.”
“Rachel, you have nothing to be sorry for” Daley cupped the phone with his hands like he was there with her, holding her arms up as she fell apart. Like a good brother would do.
“I am sorry you are feeling so down”
“It’s not your fault” Rachel clarified quickly.
“I haven’t done a lot to help.” Daley leaned back into his chair, now more awake than ever before.
“It’s okay,” Rachel said uncharacteristically gently “I knew thinking about my dad would do this, and I did it anyway.”
“You can always talk to me about him, please don’t be discouraged, good lord, Rachel, I- we understand each other, I hope.”
“I believe so” Rachel said simply, like it was fact.