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in a dream
i saw my mother
with the love of her life
and no children
it was the happiest i'd ever seen her
-what if
-Rupi Kaur, The Sun and Her Flowers
"Is she okay?" Adam quietly asks, otherwise still as stone. Lawrence walks over to the wardrobe, resting his cane on the drawers so he can get himself ready for bed. He slips off his watch, easily undoes the cuffs of his shirt.
"She took a little longer to get to bed, but I think she just had some left over energy from today." Adam is on his back on Lawrence's bed, staring up at the ceiling. If Lawrence looked at him in the mirror, he would see that his expression was distant. "I think we did good today." He glances over his shoulder as he slips the shirt off his shoulders. "Did you notice something?" Adam swallows around nothing, shakes his head minutely.
"Just making sure she had fun." Lawrence stares at him a beat too long for it to not feel like insects under Adam's skin, creeping between his meat and his veins. He stops holding his breath when Lawrence turns back to the wardrobe again. He delicately sets to taking out his contacts.
"Adam, if you're concerned about something…"
"What do I have to be worried about, Lare?" He puts his hands out in a gesture that matches his flippant, comical tone. It's not as effective when he's flat on his back. It is a complete failure when Lawrence doesn't believe him in the slightest.
"You tell me, Adam." His voice is gentle in the stern way only a father could manage. It's a soft touch with a calloused hand. Adam shifts uncomfortably. It's just the sound of his shuffling on the bed as the elder takes out the right contact and patiently awaits an answer. Eventually, Adam sighs and sits up. He rests his elbows on his knees and stares down at the soft beige carpet. He had never seen an apartment with carpet that wasn't threadbare until Lawrence first showed him the place. He liked to sit on the floor when he came, even with all of Lawrence's cushy nice furniture. Sometimes he did it just to irritate him. He fidgets with his hands as he molds his shame around the concept of admitting his feelings. There's the soft sound of Lawrence twisting the cap on the container. Taking his cane again, silent steps across the floor. The soft creak of the bedsprings as he sits next to Adam. The silence and warmth of his body next to the younger man. The tender ache of wanting his hand to rest on your thigh in a small show of comfort. The shame that you know he doesn't touch because he doesn't want to scare you away. Adam feels that bitter poison in his heart again.
"I messed up while you were gone." That was easier. Adam had been apologizing since he was born, for his actions, for his personality, for his very existence. Admitting fault was as simple as breathing.
"What happened?" Lawrence asks him simply. The weight of his undivided attention is suffocating, and not in the way Adam sometimes enjoyed. He liked it when Lawrence made him feel special, the only man in the world. He didn't want to be seen now, not as unyieldingly as Lawrence looked at him.
"Fuck, I don't know, Lare. We were okay for a while and then she just pulled back and I didn't know how to fix it."
"She's been through a lot for a kid, Adam. Sometimes she pulls away when seemingly nothing happens."
"Is she scared of me?" He holds his face in one hand. He could have burnt a hole in the floorboard with his stare.
"She's not scared of you, Adam."
"She waited for you to come back to say she was hungry. She barely talked to me after she shut down."
"Diana is still getting adjusted to you, to everything. She doesn't have an easy time asking for things."
"Wonder where she gets it from," Adam mutters, smiling faintly at the huff it gets from Lawrence.
"You have no place to judge."
"Takes one to know one." He smiles at Lawrence and finally meets his eyes, but the doctor's expression is still solemn.
"Is this just about Diana, or is it something else?" He cut to Adam's heart with a surgical precision, just with his words. The smile falters and falls. He looks away again.
"You have to leave it in here, but you can't leave it too long, otherwise it'll be ruined." Adam explains to the girl beside him with a smile, agitating the film with his tongs. She stands on the step stool so that she can watch the paper shift in the liquid. "Stop just needs thirty seconds. Fixer depends on what material it is." He lifts the paper out of the tray, moving it into the next. "This is Fibre, so it has to sit in that for four minutes." He looks at her, smile playful. "Got a watch on you?" She shakes her head, golden curls bouncing with the movement. She was serenely pink in the darkroom. "There's an egg timer over there," he gestures with his head to another table in the room, "go ahead and grab that and set it for us." She's quick to hop off the stool to follow the instructions. The sound of her shuffling things around briefly covers the quiet sound of the liquid as Adam continues to agitate.
"Got it!" And she comes back on Adam's other side, setting the timer where he can see it on the table. There's the low drone of it counting down from four minutes.
"Way to go, squirt." With a waiting game started, she decides to look around the darkroom to keep herself entertained. Adam watches her out of the corner of his eye. She marvels at the rows and rows of film clipped to strings racking back and forth between the walls like a web.
"You did all these?"
"Mhm," he hums. "This is my secret lair where I hide away from the sun until night descends upon the city." If she appreciates the theatrics, she doesn't say anything. It's a good thing that he's found a more "above board" means of income. He wasn't sure how she'd react to pictures of countless men and scumbags coming in and out of illicit affairs. As of now, she just looks at countless pictures of families. Some pets. Some proms and quinceaneras and weddings. None of her and Lawrence have been pinned up yet.
"You must really like taking pictures." He snorts to himself. She stops looking at the pictures to investigate the various tools on the tables.
"If you're good at something, might as well make a buck off it."
"Did you always want to be a photographer?" He meets her eyes briefly, catching just a moment of Lawrence in her face. She has his eyes, his soft cheeks.
"Eh, not really. When I was a kid, I wanted to be a vet."
"Why didn't you do that?" She takes a spare pair of tongs to play with, trying to move and pick things up with the dainty metal tools.
"I tried. College's a bitch, squirt." She giggles to herself like she's been let in on a secret. Lawrence told him to watch his mouth around her, and he did, but what the old man didn't know wouldn't kill him. Diana certainly didn't mind. He was pretty inclined to think that she thought of him as the cool, laid back not-quite-stepdad-not-quite-my-dad's-weird-boyfriend. She hadn't tattled on him yet, so he felt confident it was a private thing for just them.
"I don't wanna cut things up when I grow up," she blurts casually, not even blinking from what she's doing.
"I'd say that's about the smartest decision you could make." He tries to ignore the sudden trepidation in his heart. They were dangerously close to "the worst night of this family's entire life" territory and he didn't think he was the one she should talk about it with.
"I don't know how dad is okay doing it all the time."
"Honestly? Neither do I. Guess you just do something for long enough it stops affecting you as much." The timer rings as the countdown ends. Diana quickly comes back to the stool, eager to see the next step. "See, like that. I used to be like that when I first started, and now I don't get that rush anymore." He pulls the paper from the Fixer liquid. He hangs for a moment to let it drip.
"You don't like it anymore?"
"I still like doing this. It's just not new anymore." He gestures with his head to the box of paper. "Put the lid on that so when the lights come on it doesn't get ruined." She puts the cardboard lid back on securely, clearly eager to do whatever she can in the process. "Alright, you can turn on the light and we can get a look at it."
"We can?"
"Yeah, it's just next to the door. As long as you hide anything that hasn't gone through developing, it should be good." She goes to the door and flips on the switch with her eyes closed tight. The adjustment was a bit harsh with how long they had been in here.
"Take a look and tell me what you think." She comes back, intently looking at the print that Adam holds up for her.
"That's so cool!"
“Think it's ready for wash?” There’s something warm in his chest, close to pride but different. New. She nods.
“It’s perfect.”
“Perfect? Now that’s some high praise, kid. You sure?” He sets the film in the tub of clean water, starting the little tube that lets in just a trickle of water. Just to keep it fresh and moving.
“Positive!”
“Alright…” He feigns hesitancy. “If you say so. Now it just needs to wash for at least five minutes.” It's her and her father from earlier in the day. Lawrence looks as put together and stiff as ever. His smile is small, but seemingly natural. His arm is around Diana, who sits on the arm of the chair he sits on. Her smile is as big and innocent as ever. He could really only capture that look in kids. Adults tended to have a shame about their smile, about their joy. It sickens to think what Jigsaw might think about that fact. Pushing that thought down, Adam likes the picture. It's a cute little piece of the two that doesn't make it feel like somethings missing. Like someone is missing. He didn’t think Allison hated Lawrence, and he knew Lawrence didn’t hate her. He wondered before if it was this cold before the divorce or it only became worse with time. A chill rushed over you when you watched the two of them speak to one another. It was almost like surgery, sterile and cutting. It made him think of his childhood.
“Do you wanna try to make one?”
“Can I?” She's wide eyed looking up at him and he laughs, nodding.
“Of course, let me just work with the enlarger then you can do all of this.” He points at the trays of liquid as he moves to the machine. He prepares the next photo for development, quiet in his concentration. Diana meanwhile, is clearly thrilled.
“Can I keep it if it comes out okay? I wanna show mom when I get home. We used to have a big wall full of pictures of all of us on Christmas and stuff, but she took some of them down after they broke up. She didn’t take down my favorite though, so maybe she’ll let me hang this one up if I do good! I wanna put them right next to each other.”
“I hope she lets you,” Adam distractedly responds.
“I’ll show you next time you come with dad to pick me up! Can I take more pictures with you someday? If this one is good?”
“Sure, squirt.” He brings the paper over and she's quick to attention. She carefully grips it by the edges as he hands it to her. “Remember the steps?”
“Developer first.” She places the paper in the liquid as if it's fine china. It sinks in and Adam gives her the tongues to agitate. She gasps as the picture slowly forms across the formerly white paper. “Look!”
“Mhm, and that just sits for a minute.” he turns the kitchen timer, just as a precaution. When he was alone here, he usually never set it for developer.
“I think dad is blinking in this one.” She leans down to look at it closely, but stops at Adam’s hand on her shoulder.
“Careful with your hair, kiddo. You don’t want to dip it in there.”
“Oh!” she suddenly sets down the tongs to paw at the pockets of her skort. She frowns. “I don’t have my ponytail. Dad still has it.” Adam shakes the tray to keep up the agitation. He shrugs a shoulder.
“You’ll be fine, I just don't want your dad getting mad at me if you get a bunch of chemicals and alkalis in your pretty hair. The timer dings and he gives the tongs back to her. “Next one.” She shifts the tub around to get the picture to curl up on the edge, just like Adam had. It makes it easy to grab the corner and pull it from the tub.
“I wouldn’t care if we had to cut it off. Mom would be mad, but it's just hair.” she shakes the paper lightly, working off any of the drips of developer. Moving it to the stop, it slips from the tongs. It hits the edge of the tub and then the table with a wet slap. Face down on the surface. Adam silently winces to himself.
“Oops.”
“Did I mess it up?” She goes to pick it up with her free hand in a nervous panic before Adam stops the hand.
“Don't get that stuff on you. The tongs.” She looks at the offending hand as she brings it back to herself, like she can’t believe she tried to do that.
“Sorry.” She picks it up with the tongs, turning it around so they can see the face of the photo. There’s a clear smudge. Adam goes to take the tongs from her hand.
“Here, let me see.”
“I'm sorry, Adam.” he looks the picture over. The smudge is pretty obvious, smearing across the center of the photo from where it hit the tray. Some dirt and dust from the table soiled the top half of the photo as well. If they continued the process, the picture would be permanently tarnished. “I'm sorry, I didn't mean to.”
“Shit happens, D. I'm not upset. We can keep working on it if you want.” he sets it down in the stop, shaking the tray.
“But it's ruined.”
“It's not ruined, you just made a mistake. Sometimes you mess up and you just have to work it out from there. It’ll still be a picture, it'll just be a little rough.” The detritus on the photo lifts up once it's submerged, but the effect it left on it is permanent. It kind of reminds Adam of a really old film, where you could see all the dust and noise that affected it.
“It looks bad now.”
“It's unique. It doesn't look like any of the other pictures I took now. Sometimes you end up making cool shit out of something you didn't like at first.” There's a version of Lawrence in the back of his head. A memory of making the most out of the tragedy they suffered. They would never be the same again, and they should have never gone through it, but they did. Now they had something they both didn’t have before the game. They had something they never would have without the worst night of five lifetimes.
“You’re just saying that to make me feel better.”
“I mean it, D. Plus, it's your first time doing this. If this is all that’s wrong with your first picture, then you’re leagues better than me when I started.” She doesn’t say anything. She watches Adam’s moves with a kind of hollowness in her eyes. He’s fighting a losing battle and there’s a cruel twist in his gut. Lawrence was going to fucking kill him. This poor kid. “Look, you don’t have to finish this one if you don't want to, but it's not ruined. It’s gonna be better than you think.” She stays quiet, and Adam resigns himself to the quiet with her. He’s not sure what she needs to hear, and if hearing it from Adam would even mean anything. He wasn’t a dad, and he certainly didn’t have good examples of what to do from his own childhood. He’s digging his own grave if he keeps talking. He takes the photo from the stop and dips it into the fix. Lawrence isn't actually blinking in the picture. It's almost identical to the one they did just before. “Do you want to try again?”
“No.” he nods softly, chewing the skin of his lip.
“You can go back out to the living room when we turn the lights on if you want. I’ll finish the rest of these.” To see her so still is eerie, especially when she was so happy before. She got like this on drop offs and pickups, especially when Lawrence and Allison started to bicker. That pain in Adam’s gut gets stronger.
“Okay.”
“I think I'm scared that I'm going to become my mom.” Lawrence doesn’t speak or move in any kind of response, but Adam can feel that he’s listening, feel that he’s looking at him with that tender understanding look he always does. “I know how she was with me and how it fucked me up and now I'm worried that I'm just doing the same fucking thing she did.” Now, a hand finally reaches out. It settles on Adam’s thigh with kindness and warmth. Adam feels like throwing up.
“You aren’t your mother, Adam.” Adam rolls his eyes, scoffing.
“You didn’t know her like I did.”
“No, I didn't. But what I do know is what she made you feel like. And I know that you only ever see the bad you’ve done and not all the good.” Adam licks his lips.
“You’re just saying that.”
“Adam, Diana loves you. I love you. Do you think that would be the case if there wasn’t good in you?” Adam rubs his hands together, watching the skin slide against itself. He wants to bow his head and whimper like a dog. He feels pathetic.
“I never felt like she saw me. Everything I did or wanted felt like a burden.” Lawrence's hand squeezes reassuringly. “She was always so… cold. I never felt like anything I said or did mattered.”
“You thought you did that to Diana today?”
“She was just so,” He grasps for a word to fit the picture in his head, “Sad and I didn't know what to do for her so I just did nothing.”
“Adam…”
“Anytime I see these big emotions I just- shut down. I don't know what to do or how I could even help so I just shut up and… I don't know. Try to make myself small.” he sighs, heavy from his nose. “And that’s not what she needed. I made her feel bad and then I just shut down because that used to be how I made everyone happy and now she probably resents me. And I don't blame her! I mean, god, my mother did that to me my whole life and I hate her for it. Now fucking look at me. I'm doing the same goddamn thing.” Adam scrubs his face with his hand, this was so stupid. Lawrence shifts on the bed minutely. He works the words in his mouth before he says them.
“When I was a kid, my father was a very… detached person. He was a man's man, and a perfectionist. It’s partly because of him that I became a doctor in the first place.” Adam looks at him from the corner of his eye, waiting to see what Lawrence was building up to. “He had these standards that I had to live up to in order to be worthy of love. I filled them the best I could and we managed to get by like that. When we had Diana, I realized what it did to me. He came to see her after Allison gave birth. He said he hoped that she would turn out just like I did. Something about that just made it… click.”
“Yeah?”
“I think about that a lot, when I father her. I hear what I'm saying or what I'm doing and I see a glimpse of him. I see that same dictator I grew up with, that I resented until he passed away. I wonder how i could do that, and then i remember that that’s all I saw a father being as a boy.” With hesitancy at first, he reaches for Adam's hand and takes it. His hold is limp, allowing Adam to escape if he wanted. He looks at it with the tenderness of a wounded animal. “I think we’ve already made ourselves different from them. I think the first step of that is realizing what they did.”
“Larry.” Adam tightens his hold on the surgeon's hand, making it a real embrace. Lawrence smiles faintly.
“I don’t think you’re your mother, Adam. And I don't think I'm my father. I think we’re both so scared that we’re seeing what we want to see.”
“You ever considered therapy, Lare?” Lawrence scoffs. He meets Adam’s eye and it's a warm bed in the sunlight. It's love and pride and understanding and warmth and safety and connection.
“The brain is a lot more complex than the body.”
“It’s all Greek to me, doc.” Lawrence lets out an amused breath, shakes his head slightly.
“You’re doing great with her, Adam. Better than me at times.”
“Better than you? Lare, that kid fucking worships you.” The smile loses some of its luster. A doubt comes in, vinegar and turpentine.
“She shouldn’t, not after everything I put her through.”
“Kids are pretty forgiving people, Lare, and she's pretty fucking smart. I think she knows good when she sees it.” Lawrence raises a brow.
“I thought I was comforting you?”
“Mm, you were. Then you tried to play the woe-is-me card.”
“Oh forgive me, some of us don’t have your overwhelming self confidence.” Adam snorts and punches the other's shoulder.
“Fuck off.”
“I aspire to have your level of self awareness and surety.”
“You're an ass.”
“I wonder who I learned that from.” Adam uses their joint hands to pull Lawrence in, pecking him on the lips.
“Fag,” He insults him without malice. It's cruel with love. Lawrence is smitten.
“You’re good Adam, I promise. You will never be her.”