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"Charlie's a really special friend, isn't he?"
"Yeah, he is."
Nick is silent the rest of the way home, as is Sarah. There's another question she wants to ask, but it somehow feels too big, too private, for this moment.
When they get home, Nellie stays close to Nick, like a mother protecting her pup, concern brimming in her dark eyes and in her soft whining. You and me both, Nellie, Sarah thinks.
Sarah drops her keys on the dining table and drapes her coat over the back of the chair, and instead of going upstairs, Nick lingers behind her, like there's something he wants to say, but he's not sure how, or maybe, he's scared.
She turns, looks at him, and tries to catch his constantly darting, still tearful eyes.
"Nicky?" she says, gently.
He pats the crumpled tissue against his bloody nose once more for good measure, then sniffles a little before he stammers, "I... mum, I..."
It's okay, baby, she thinks. You can say it. You can say it.
"I just..."
That's it, sweetheart.
He sighs, and his voice cracks the smallest bit when he finally says, "I'm so sorry."
It breaks Sarah's heart the way his face begins to contort like he's going to break down into tears, like he's 11 years old and David has pulled a cruel prank or called him a mean name. She goes to him, pulls him into a tight embrace, and feels the tension in his body as he tries but doesn't quite succeed in fully letting go, fully allowing himself to be comforted.
"I know, baby," she says, rubbing a hand up and down his back. "I know. It's okay. You're okay."
She feels him nod into her shoulder, swallow his tears, and begin to pull away.
"Go get cleaned up, all right?" she nudges him toward the stairs, and off he goes, Nellie trotting alongside his every step.
In a few moments, she hears the shower running.
-
Sarah's stomach clenches as she flips through the directory of Truham families at the dining table, phone in hand. She's never met Mr. or Mrs. Greene, but she has seen Harry, and if his personality is anything to go by, this phone call could be quite an unpleasant experience.
But, it has to be done.
The phone rings. Sarah waits in agonizing suspense. Then, a voice.
"Hello, this is Cassandra Greene."
"Cassandra," Sarah says, trying to sound neither too cheerful nor too stern. "Hi, this is Sarah Nelson, Nick Nelson's mum — "
"Oh, Sarah, hello it's, it's so good of you to call, I — erm — I was just sitting down to call you myself, honestly, but — goodness, I was just, so embarrassed..."
Sarah's mind had concocted a number of possible ways this conversation would go, but not a single one of them had included Mrs. Greene stammering through an apology so humble, so uncertain, that it was almost charming. Certainly disarming.
There are a few beats where Sarah and Mrs. Greene accidentally speak on top of one another, each trying to be deferential to the other, until, "Cassandra, I called because I, too, wanted to extend my deepest apologies. To you, to Harry... this is just, so unlike Nick. And that is not an excuse, I want to be clear. I made it very clear to him that what he did tonight, no matter who said what or how he felt, was not all right, and will not be tolerated. Please know that I take this very seriously, as a mother."
There's a pause, and Sarah hears Cassandra let out a shaky breath. "Thank you, Sarah," she says softly. "I appreciate that, truly. And I want to make it equally clear that I've seen your Nick, the way he is with the lads, with Harry, and I know how unlike him this is. He's kind, and a good teammate, and a good boy, and Harry..."
She trails off for a moment.
"... I'm not an idiot," Cassandra says, finally. "I know what kind of boy Harry is. I know how hard he must have pushed and provoked to get a boy like Nick to do what he did. And I can't imagine what kind of mother you think I am but I... for what it's worth, I just want you to know that I'm trying. Harry's very... insecure. And angry, sometimes. About a lot of things. And no matter how I try, I can't seem to help him understand that acting this way is not going to make him feel better about himself, or about the things he’s angry about. Maybe it does in the moment, but it won't forever. Anyway, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I hope Nick is okay, and I hope you can forgive me. And Harry. And I hope you know that I’ve talked to him before, over and over, and I’m not giving up. He’s going to get another earful from me tonight, whether he likes it or not."
Sarah checks her boiling resentment toward Harry Greene in that moment, because suddenly, after hearing Cassandra's words, and hearing that all-too-relatable tone of helplessness in her voice, Sarah understands.
"Did you know Nick has an older brother, Cassandra?"
Cassandra stammers, not quite sure where this is going. "No," she says. "I didn't, no."
"Sometimes, I can't believe that David and Nick were brought up in the same house, by the same mother, with the same values," Sarah says. And it's only now, in this moment, that she realizes she's never truly, fully, opened up about this before. "Harry sounds a lot like David. David struggled a lot when his dad and I separated, and that anger he had — at me, at his dad, at Nick, all of us for just not doing things the way he had wanted or hoped they would be done — it really affects him. And when I watch the way David is with Nick, with his friends, with me... I constantly punish myself for failing to teach him that there's a better way to live. I feel like a horrid mother, sometimes, I really do."
"Oh, Sarah..." Cassandra begins.
"I understand, Cassandra. I completely understand. And I know it’s hard to keep having those conversations over and over again with a difficult son. But the fact that you’re doing it is… very strong of you. You're not a terrible mother. Being a mother is just... impossible sometimes," Sarah laughs.
Cassandra laughs a little, too, and Sarah thinks she hears a sniffle as well.
"It really is," she agrees. "Meanwhile, Martin is father of the year for showing up to a grand total of one rugby match per season and managing to take an entire evening off of work on Christmas Day so he can spend 'quality time' with his children."
Sarah barks out a laugh at this, the resentment in Cassandra's voice a feeling she knows very, very intimately. "Oh, don't even get me started. Stéphane sees the boys twice a year and acts as though this is somehow my fault or the boys' fault, and it takes just about every bit of self-control I have not to smack him upside the head when he has the audacity to say as much."
Cassandra is laughing freely now, though she's still sniffling. She sounds sweet, Sarah thinks. She sounds like someone Sarah could be friends with.
"I'm sorry to hear that, truly," Cassandra says. "But I'm relieved to hear that I'm not alone. Harry's siblings certainly have had their struggles, but they don’t have that mean spirit that seems to have a hold of Harry right now. I hope he grows away from it. And I'll keep trying, but I just feel so powerless sometimes."
Sarah sighs. She feels that deeply, and barely thinks about it before she offers, "If you ever want to talk, or come 'round for tea or anything, I'd be happy to lend an ear."
A pause, then, "Do you mean that, Sarah?"
"Absolutely."
There's a smile in her voice, now. "I may just do that sometime."
-
By the time Sarah hangs up the phone, the shower is no longer running, but she can hear the gentle thuds of drawers being closed and then the low buzz of an electric toothbrush. She's switching off the lights and heading up the stairs when she hears a gasp and yelp of pain from behind the slightly open bathroom door.
"Nicky?" she calls, slowly approaching the door and giving it a tentative push.
"In here," he says.
She pushes open the door and tries not to let the concern completely overtake her face when she sees the dark bruise blossoming along the outer corner of Nick's eye. His t-shirt is still draped over the towel bar, presumably to keep it from getting any blood on it. He appears to have been trying to apply a damp flannel to calm the ache and the swelling, but he's wincing in pain, his fingers treading carefully around the delicate skin as he examines himself in the mirror.
His eyes, she is pained to see, are pink and a little puffy — not just from the punch he took.
Sarah steps up to the mirror and places her hands on his shoulders, steering him around to sit on the edge of the tub. He complies, too tired to argue. He sits quietly with his eyes downcast as she pulls an antiseptic wipe from the nearby drawer, tears open the packet, sits by his side, and thoroughly cleans the area where skin has been broken and bruised. He flinches at the sting, but endures it.
"I just got off the phone with Mrs. Greene," Sarah says.
Nick’s eyes dart upward, looking at her nervously.
She chuckles. "Everything's all right," she says. "We had a good chat. She feels terribly about what happened, and apologized. As did I."
"She apologized that her son is a homophobic prick?"
Sarah shoots him a look that softens him instantly.
"Sorry," he says. "Sorry. I didn't mean it. Well, no, I definitely did mean it."
She can't help but laugh at this, and she doesn't hide it. He smiles a little and continues, "I just... I could have said it differently, I s'pose."
Sarah hums in agreement as she makes a final few dabs at his eye and then tosses the wipe into the bin. She then rummages for a plaster small enough to cover the torn skin, at least for tonight.
“Did she say anything else? About talking to him, making sure he’ll stop acting like such a — I mean, you know, stop the bullying?”
Sarah hums. “She’s talked to him before and she said she’s trying again,” she says. “But unfortunately, it’s a bit more complicated than that.”
Nick slumps and laments, “It’s not though, someone needs to stop him. I just don't understand how she could let him be so awful. Like, surely she can see how he acts? Can't she say anything? Do anything to get him to understand that it's not okay to say things like that to Charlie?"
Nick looks at his mother with desperate eyes, like he's hoping she, as the adult, will have a simple solution that could fix all of this. In that moment, she feels the full weight of the unanticipated pressure of parenthood — the pressure no one warns you about. That suddenly, once you have a child, you'll be expected to wield godlike power to rectify every one of life's challenges.
It's not Nick’s fault, though. And if she's honest, she feels lucky to have a boy Nick's age that still sees his mum as the bastion of all wisdom. She doesn't deserve it, but it warms her heart to know the kind of faith he has in her.
"Let me ask you something," she says, securing the small plaster in place. Nick watches her, listening intently. "If you weren't my son, and you didn't know me at all, and you met David at school or at rugby summer camp or somewhere else, what kind of assumptions would you make about me? His mother?"
His eyes fall, and he looks around the room as if searching for an answer. "That's... that's different, though."
"Is it? How?"
"Because you're... you try so hard with David — "
"What makes you think Mrs. Greene doesn't try hard with Harry?"
He stops, then, his lips a thin, embarrassed line. "I guess I never thought about it like that."
"When people act like Harry does, there's usually a reason. Not an excuse," she clarifies when Nick is about to argue, "but a reason. There's a difference. An excuse is something we use to justify an action. A reason isn’t justification. It’s just the thing that caused the action."
Nick considers this, and Sarah continues.
"I want to be very clear, Nick. It's never okay for Harry to use the kind of language he used or to bully people the way he does. But his reason for doing those things probably has a lot more to do with him than it has anything to do with Charlie. Behavior like that usually comes from pain. So if you need something to hold onto next time he acts like that, something to help you keep yourself under control, try to remind yourself: This is his problem, that he needs to work out within himself, and a punch in the face from you probably isn't going to help him on that journey. In fact, it’s probably just going to make him angrier."
Nick thinks. "So, I should just keep my mouth shut and walk away next time?"
"Oh, absolutely not!" Sarah exclaims, taking Nick by surprise. "You were right to stick up for Charlie, and you were right to call Harry out. When he acts that way, you say what you need to say. Tell him it's wrong, and tell him to stop. Make sure Charlie feels safe with you, always. Just keep your fists down next time. But let him know where you stand. That part, you did right, okay?”
Nick is nodding now. "Yeah, good," he says. "I can do that."
Sarah smiles, leans forward, takes Nick by the shoulders and kisses him gently on the forehead. She pulls his t-shirt from the towel bar and hands it to him, and he pulls it on, stretching the neckline carefully down over his injury.
It's at this moment that Nellie begins whining at the door, poking her nose into the room with a worried little expression on her face. Nick laughs a little and calls to her with outstretched hands, "C'mere girl, I'm okay, c’mere," and she trots across the tiles to nuzzle him, propping up on her hind legs and planting her paws on his chest. He laughs, his eyes scrunching shut as Nellie showers him with kisses.
"I think that's someone's way of telling you it's time for bed," Sarah says.
-
Nick is far too old to be tucked into bed, Sarah knows. But she does it anyway, and he lets her.
When she closes the bedroom door behind her and makes her way down the hall, she carries the weight of all the things that are still unsaid between her and Nick. She knows, in the way only a mother can, that there’s more.
When he’s ready, she thinks. When he’s ready.