okay so merry christmas frens (even though it's no longer christmas where i live)
Calum doesn't know what to say, except, he loves having sex with Michael. He's not doing with it him – oh no, not at all. He's just trying to think of good things before he enters his house. He knows his mother has been waiting for him since the night before, but he can't bring himself to be sympathetic. He was in her position for six months, staying up late just to hear the door open.
He sighs, rubbing his eyes, because he hasn't got any sleep and he's about to do the most emotionally draining thing first thing in the morning. He gets out, and – as soon as his door shuts – the front door to the house opens. His mother acts surprised, and leans against the doorframe.
"Pancakes?" she asks.
Calum furrows his eyebrows, wondering what exactly she spoke through her crooked teeth. "What?"
"Would you like pancakes?"
Calum cocks his head to the side a little, but nods anyway. His mother hasn't made pancakes in six years ( - around about the time she was losing the ropes of parenting). He walks inside, stepping on the freshly mown grass as he walks by, and shuts the door behind himself, smelling the childhood smell of fresh choc-chip pancakes. His mouth waters.
By instinct, he walks over to the stove to tend to the pancakes, but his mother's already flipping them. He sits down to make sense of this. He looks around. The house is still a mess, and it gives Calum some piece of mind knowing that not everything's different.
"So, Brazil," she starts, putting a pancake onto the pile.
"Maybe." Calum says slowly. "It's not definite yet."
She sighs, picking up the plate of pancakes and putting them in front of her son. "I know this doesn't make up for it, but maybe it's a start."
Calum eats three or four pancakes before stopping, looking at his mother across the table. He puts the plate in front of her, knowing she probably hasn't eaten anything. She laughs under her breath.
"I don't deserve you, dove," she says, picking up a pancake. "I'm sorry for what I did to you. I'm sorry that it took me this long to realise it – it's just, I thought you were okay."
"I am okay, but that doesn't mean I don't need any parenting."
She scratches her arm enough for it to leave a mark, and tries again. "Nothing makes up for what I did. I know it was horrible and lonely and just shit, and I'm sorry for that, babe."
You're the reason why I'm afraid of loving anyone. He thinks. You're the reason why I flinch whenever I say that I'm in love with Michael.
"But I'm going to be better. I'm going to get a job and start parenting again. And no more drugs – promise." The mention of actually getting a job shocks Calum, and the fact that his mother no longer has a middle-class sugar daddy makes Calum realise just how much his mother's willing to change.
"I'm in love with Michael." He says, flinching just as he knows he will.
"Okay." She shrugs. "I don't mind. He always had heart-eyes for you anyway."
Having a conversation with his mother is so alien to him that he feels like he should leave now before he realises it's a dream. He gets up, and starts to clean, straightening up everything. He folds the blanket on the lounge and throws it back.
