Chapter Text
“Does mom hate you?”
“She is just angry and scared, deep down she knows this is what is best for her. Sometimes what is best for you makes you angry and scared.”
“That’s not logical.” Spencer pushed his fringe out of his hair and turned from the car window, he had been counting the trees keeping an ongoing record of the species of each tree and how many from the same species they passed.
“It’s not.”
Spencer hated this. It was a learned pattern by now, he woke up at 8 every single Saturday and bathed and dressed himself in his neatest sweater and most comfy slacks, then they would climb into the car and Spencer would point out he wasn’t old enough to sit in the front seat of the car he was ten not twelve yet and Nathaniel would heave a deep sigh and stare off into the distance while Spencer got into the front seat and fastened his seatbelt. Nathaniel would “accidentally” knock his glasses askew as he leaned over and checked the door muttering the whole time about getting it fixed.
Spencer always felt that if there was any day of the week Nathaniel disliked being his brother it was Saturdays’, but despite this once they were out on the road there was always a new one-hour Discovery Channel Podcast episode downloaded and ready to be indulged in on the way to the sanitarium so maybe Nathaniel didn’t hate him on Saturday’s after all.
The ride to the sanitarium was never eventful, it took an hour and a half on a good day and Spencer would spend the first hour completely engrossed in the Discovery Podcast and then the remainder of the time reciting back the information he learned to Nathaniel while Nathaniel hummed along at all the appropriate times and asked all the right questions.
The ride back from the sanitarium was a different ordeal all together, that was the part Spencer hated. He always came out of his visits with mom happy, he always felt excited to go home and learn more things so he could share them with her next time he visited, he kept a running list of the topics he thought his mom would like to hear about. By the time they made it into the car and were pulling out of the parking lot most of that excitement would begin fading.
Nathaniel tried his best, he always did, he would ask Spencer how the visit went, what they talked about, how she looked and what she wore. Spencer in turn would ask about what the doctor’s and nurses said, he would ask about the elderly nurse Mrs. Havisham who Nathaniel always made a point to visit and he would ask if Nathaniel had helped fix anything this time around because there was always one person or another in the sanitarium who would wait all week for Nathaniel to install, build or fix something for them.
Nathaniel would always answer him with an even measured tone, recounting the interactions he had and updating him on their mother’s health but then he would lean over Spencer to check the door of the pickup was closed properly because sometimes it needed an extra pull and Spencer would smell the cigarettes on his fingers and his breath and he would be reminded that for Nathaniel there was no excitement about visiting next week, just duty.
The only time Nathaniel came in to see their mother was when she would send a letter before their visit lamenting that she had nothing to read or nothing to write in. Sometimes she would send a letter because her legs ached from the cold or her throat was sore, sometimes she ran out of her beloved tea bags other times she needed some yarn to knit a sweater and would Spencer be a dear and get it for her. The same week one of these letters came, Nathaniel would pick up an extra night shift at the garage and Spencer would spend the night with old nurse Havisham and her old husband Mr. Havisham.
The next day after school Nathaniel would take Spencer to the store and they would pick up whatever their mom needed, on Saturday they would go back to the sanitarium and Spencer would lead the way to their mother’s room and Nathaniel would wordlessly follow and be in the room long enough to put the gift they had brought along on a small bedside table before he was out of the room again. When he left their mother would sit in silence for long enough that Spencer would worry she was lost in her thoughts and then she would start telling Spencer all about the strange man down the hall. Spencer knew the room down the hall was empty.
“We should cut your hair soon don’t you think?” Nathaniel was tapping a rhythm onto the steering wheel as he drove.
“I like my hair like this.” Spencer liked his fringe just a bit longer, it was easier to cover his eyes and pretend like he couldn’t see the bullies coming his way like that.
“You have to push your fringe out of your face every other minute.” Spencer knew this was concern, the deep frown and worried glances was enough to tell him this was concern but he didn’t need Nathaniel’s concern about his hair.
“It’s my hair why don’t you just mind your own hair.” Really he wasn’t angry about Nathaniel’s concern, he was angry that Nathaniel smelled like cigarettes, he was angry that mom was being stubborn, he was angry that Nathaniel turned down MIT and he was angry that Nathaniel would waste any of his time worrying about Spencer's hair.
“Sometimes what is best for you makes you angry and scared.” Nathaniel smiles evenly at him and passes him another CD, written on the cover, in the neat lettering of a man who was supposed to be at MIT this fall, are the words “The Evolution of Forensic Science: A Historical Overview” and Spencer hasn’t listened to this one before.