Time Passages (Queen or Freddie Mercury Fanfic)

29. Previous Engagements, Part Two

Julia

I sat in my office, drumming my fingers quietly against the desk. The girl from last evening had made an encore appearance as soon as the counseling center had opened for appointments and walk-ins, but thankfully she didn't stay very long- and for the moment, there was peace.

My eyes centered squarely upon a bit of glare in the glass surrounding me- and yet I really didn't see it; from the hall outside I could hear the faintest titters from the staff lounge, Antonio's soft voice as he spoke on the phone in his office, the occasional clack of shoes against the tile as someone strolled past, but I wasn't listening. I was completely zoned out, wrapped up in my own helpless thoughts.

John still hadn't sent me any kind of text or call, demanding an explanation for the picture of not two, but three grinning idiots standing in front of a newly decorated Christmas tree. Of course, Danny had to choose that picture; Freddie had taken forty photos at least of just the two of us, but he picked that one. I couldn't honestly blame my son, though. I had liked it the best myself; indeed, the smiles were more natural, the energy more relaxed, in that one spontaneous photo than in all the other posed and painstakingly crafted ones combined.

This extended waiting period was beginning to chafe at me severely- I much preferred to have disaster go ahead and get itself over with, instead of sitting around and waiting for it to strike- but it wasn't the only thing on my mind. In fact, in that moment, I wasn't thinking about John at all.

I was thinking about that sweet image I couldn't seem to will from my head no matter how I tried, in which I kept seeing Danny run back up the stairs just to give Freddie a bear hug goodbye. Without one word, I watched Freddie wrap his arms around my son, hold on just as tightly, a soft, sincere smile curving those lips. And my throat tightened.

For I had remembered something Danny said last night as I tucked him in.

I hadn't tucked Danny into bed for about two years now, due to the loud and awfully cute proclamation he had made one night, when he stood firm and barefoot in his blue race car pajamas to inform me that he was "too old to be tucked in, and too old for lullabies". So I did find it peculiar that last night, when I heard a knock at my bedroom door, and found Danny waiting patiently, hands behind his back.

He didn't even wait for me to ask why he was standing there; he told me right away, "Mom, can I see the-"

"Nope, bad start," I cut him off gently. "Try again."

With a put-out sigh and roll of his eyes, he asked again, but this time more politely, "Mom, may I please see the box tonight?"

"The box?" I stifled a yawn. "Tonight?"

"Uh-huh- yes, ma'am, I mean."

By "the box," Danny was referring to the locked metal chest in which I kept the few remaining artifacts of 1977, situated on the top shelf in my closet. It wasn't very much- a sealed letter, a torn in half Polaroid, a fortune cookie message bearing a line from "Wonderwall," among a few other various items- but to Danny it was a vast treasure trove; the box held his only tangible clues to learning about his father- a man that, as far as he knew, he had never met.

I shook my head. "Sweetie, it's really late and a school night besides. Maybe some other time."

"Tomorrow night?"

"Maybe- but remember, tomorrow we're going with Dr. Preus to see Star Wars on the big screen, so we may not get back till late."

"Not that late!"

I laughed, ruffling his hair. "We'll see, okay? We'll see."

"Okay," Danny nodded with a shrug. As he walked back to his room, I followed him and watched while he crawled into bed. To my surprise he didn't protest at all when I couldn't help but draw the covers around his chin, make sure he was nice and snug.