i... i missed you, mother. and i'm sorry. but what i've realized, now, is just how much i want you - need you back in my life. if we can rebuild... if we can be... a family again... ?
Five years of silence and distance has scabbed over the raw, weeping wound of Silver’s absence. At the ringtone, one of only three she's set on her phone, that still healing wound is ripped wide open. Sol’s phone slips through her fingers, clattering against the plate she’d just set out. The sound draws a sharp look from N, tending to their lunch on the stove, and he calls her — endearment first, then her name.
“ I’m fine, ” she answers on reflex. Flexes her fingers, then picks up her phone to check the caller ID. Her ringtone doesn’t lie; good to know @rcguish hasn’t changed his number. “ It’s Silver. ”
“ Ah, ” N says, in a tone that suggests he thinks she’s very much not fine. At Sol’s glance, lips pursed and brows flat, he raises his hands palms out. “ Okay, okay. Yes — Auntie. You’re totally fine. ”
“ Stop talking so much. Why are you acting so free? You’re going to burn the curry, focus on what you’re doing. ” Irritation threads through her words as she pulls out a chair, easing into it, N’s grumbling like white noise in her ears. For a moment, her thumb wavers over the screen. Sol closes her eyes. Hits the button and puts her phone to her ear. “ Hi Silver. ”
“ …Hi Mother. ” She can see his face; fear flickering in his eyes, shoulders weighed down by shame. Sol takes a slow, deep breath. Listens to Silver’s shaky ones in the static clouding the line.
Right on cue, Sneasel leaps into her lap, claws drawing blood as he kneads her thighs. One might think, from his abysmal yowling, that he might be subject to an acid bath. The pain (and the noise) pulls her from the nausea gnawing at her gut, (where is he? where has he gone? has he been taken again? have i failed again? is he safe? where is my son — ) back to the here and now. Sol scritches the demon under the chin. When this serves to only prompt increasingly deafening yowls and aggressive kneading, she begins smacking his lower back firmly enough she’s certain it can be heard through the call. Naturally, the unholy creature ceases its torment. Sol pulls her phone far away from her face.
“ You bring me nothing but misery and dead rats, ” she informs Sneasel, who purrs like a chainsaw. Sol clicks her tongue. The phone returns to her ear.
💬 Clothing rustles, masking the tremor in her son’s words. “ I... I missed you, Mother. And I'm sorry. But what I've realized, now, is just how much I want you — need you back in my life. If we can rebuild... if we can be... a family again... ? ”
“ Ball’s in your court, Silver. If that’s what you want, then that’s what we’ll do. ” She takes a breath. Steadies her voice. “ I’ve always been here. I’ll always answer your calls. ”
I love you. It sits in her mouth, untongued.
“ Have you eaten today? ” she says instead, trapping her phone between cheek and shoulder. Arms loop around Sneasel, hosting him up, and the demon’s resulting yowl is loud enough to send static shrieking through the call. Sol adjusts her hold. Turns Giratina’s apostle upside down and shakes him vigorously — Enough, hooligan. Your abuse is intolerable. — nodding to N as she moves to her bedroom.
His hand alights on her shoulder, squeezing gently. (If you need anything…) Though it doesn’t extend past her eyes, Sol finds a smile for him. (This is my cross to bear, but thank you.) His grip tightens, momentary assurance, then releases, and she feels the weight of his gaze on her back as she retreats.
