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“You’ve reached Naomi Solace, I’m not available at the moment, but leave a message and I’ll get back to you as soon as I can.”
The obnoxious sound beeps, signaling the end of the greeting and the start of a voice mail.
Will thinks he would make fun of his mother for her formal, out of character, greeting.
She’d laugh and joke about how not everyone was privy to the vulnerable, loving personality that she was able to have around her son. They would share a laugh and the conversation topic would change into what each of them had been up to since their last phone call. It would be nice, even after everything, Will thought.
It would be.
If his mother ever actually answered his calls.
“Hey mom, it's me.”
It’s not like Will didn’t understand. His mother was a successful woman, and her kind of success didn't leave much room for a personal life.
(Will sometimes allows himself to acknowledge that the lack of time for a personal life was partially what led him to be a year round camper since he was 8)
“I just wanted to call and see how you’ve been. It’s been a while. I’m starting to feel more like a fan than your son” He joked, but his heart wasn’t in it
Will tried not to resent the fact that this is the fifth month in a row that he has repeated the same message.
“ I’d say I miss you, but I know you’d just laugh at me.”
His mother never really appreciated vulnerability the way some did. It wasn't a weakness, per se. But it sure wasn’t a strength. ‘A person doesn’t get far as I have with vulnerability’ She would say to him. Will knew this. It's how he was raised.
But sometimes he wondered if his mama would have had a different perspective if she’d never crossed paths with his father.
“Camp has been hectic lately” He smiled thinly as he recalled the amount of times he’d been called to the training ground to treat a camper who had held a weapon wrong and thus got hurt. Gazing down at his scuffed sneakers, he leaned against the wall in the Big House where the old landline was.
“But then again when is it ever not? At least Chiron is finally enforcing the rules about helmets on the lava wall and chest protection during training. It means less work for us in the infirmary, which is always a good thing. Y’know?”
His mother didn’t know. Or maybe she did. Will wasn’t sure if she ever actually listened to his last few voicemails.
Will would be worried for his mothers safety, that maybe something happened to her. But alas, the news tabloids had kept up with her, and she was still shining bright as ever.
“Kayla and Austin have been wanting to take more shifts anyway, so it's just been giving me more time off that I don’t honestly need.”
Him and his mama were alike in that way. Never wanting to be idle. Though her grit was born out of determination and a desire for the goals she’d worked so hard for. Will’s dislike of freetime was created out of fear. Though he would never admit that to anyone but his mama and Nico.
“But I think Nico has taken it upon himself to keep me busy.” Will laughed, imagining his darling boyfriend, who he hadn’t seen since Nico’s father called him down to the underworld to wrangle some restless spirits a few days ago.
Will faintly wondered when Nico would return
(if, his intrusive thoughts supplied. If he would ever return.)
(Will cringed at the thought before scolding himself for even thinking that way. He loved Nico, like breathing. And he knew Nico carried Will’s heart as if it was his own.)
“He’s been so funny lately, Ma. He plans these little ‘date days’ even though he would never call them that. He's been taking me to a bunch of places, London, France, Berlin, he even took me to Venice, Ma.”
Will knew that Nico taking him to his home country was a big deal for Nico. Pretty much like meeting the family
“You would love him, Mama. I really really want you to meet him.”
Will swallowed, before letting out a breath and shifting so that all his weight rested on the wall.
“Maybe we could come down for the summer? You promised I could come on your southeastern leg of your tour, maybe he could come too?”
If that will even happen, Will bitterly assumes.
Will had loved touring with his Ma as a little kid. He would sit in the front seat of the tour bus with his mama, eating chips and dozing off, while she would sing him songs and include him in big kid decisions, like where to go for dinner. He never actually made any of the important ones. But it made him feel wanted.
He wondered if his mother ever thought of him. If she remembered his early days fondly, or as the stressful years before she shed off the dead weight that was her son.
It was probably the second.
Will didn’t like to think about that.
Will sighed and shut his eyes. The very same eyes his mother carried.
“Okay I guess I’ll say it now. I miss you Mama. A lot actually.”
He ignored how his voice cracked.
He wasn't sure if his Ma missed him too.
“I’ve kept up with the news, as best I can. You look like you’re having a blast out there. Will you tell me about it next time?”
At this point Will was sick of the false hope he was giving himself.
“Love ya mama. Please call me back.”
The line died out with a beep.
Maybe his mama would call back. And maybe she missed him.
And when Will comes to visit home in the summer, he would bring Nico. And he would get to watch his two favorite people in the whole world meet and build something that would (hopefully, fingers crossed) last a lifetime.
Will smiled at the prospect of better times, before glancing at the clock and groaning. He dropped the phone and began to make his way out of the door. But he stopped. Turning around he gazed at the phone another time.
He could feel the tears welling up in his eyes as he recalled the last time he’d seen his mother. It was right after his and Nico’s trip to Tartarus, and she could see how drained he looked.
He insisted he just hadn’t been sleeping right. And that wasn’t even a lie.
‘I’m your Mother, William Andrew, you need to start telling me the truth. Stop telling me only the things you think I want to hear.’ She had told him.
But he insisted there was nothing to tell.
Will remembered how she sighed and said ‘Then don’t call me until you’re ready to actually talk.’
He just wanted his Mama back. The one who used to laugh when he stole her band mates’ skittles.
She was the only thing he had that the curses of being a demigod didn’t touch. Was it so wrong to keep that sacred?
Next time. He tells himself.
“Next time, I'll fix this”
Or maybe, they could fix it together
If his mom ever called him back.