The Waitress

Mermaids and SUVs

Tom's car sped out of the city, not his Jag, but a new car, far less recognizable, far more nondescript.

Okay it was technically still a Jag but people noticed SUV's less. He'd rung his father straight away and driven over there to swap. The older Hiddleston, who had been charged with keeping a weather eye on his troubled son in recent weeks, had been surprised to hear from him. Pleasantly so. He usually initiated the calls – made every few days. He usually initiated the visits to Tom's or by Tom to his – once or twice a week.

He had been the one to suggest the second car and even offered to domicile it in his spare garage. He and his wife only had one car, only needed one – a stylish old BMW they'd had for years and saw no reason to part with. Though the bright shiny new F-Pace was tempting and he did have access and permission after-all, not that he'd used it yet -Tom had hardly driven it, it wouldn't be fair.

But now there had been a car swap and a more well-used car that he would feel less awkward about driving. And Tom's dad was okay with the vehicle swap for reasons other than selfish ones. He was okay with it because the man he saw this morning wasn't the same one he'd been worried about. Sure he was still pale, disheveled with a slightly haunted look marring his usually handsome face but this man had that twinkle. The one Hiddleston senior thought he might not ever see again.

And so he was cautiously optimistic.

You don't throw anxiety and depression over quickly, even with the right counselling and medication but this man had looked more like his son than the beaten down wreck of a few months, a few weeks ago.

Love doesn't conquer all but admitting you love someone even just to yourself, that maybe just maybe you see a future with someone, well that's got to be a start yes?

It has to be?

It certainly looked like a start this morning as his son arrived, hugged him – actually hugged him properly, strongly, without tears without slumping and sighing (god he tried not to find the constant sighing annoying). They had talked briefly first on the phone and then in the kitchen over a cuppa. And then he had changed cars and left. Left with a smile on his face, a grin, a wide one. A grin and a twinkle. The older Hiddleston had his fingers crossed now that this was the start – that he was driving towards the corner of this stage of his life. That once he was in the company of the only person who really seemed to get him, then maybe Tom would turn that corner. Put this year behind him and move on. Move forward.

That's what he hoped as he watched the white SUV disappear out of his street towards Essex, towards, hopefully, his future.

Conversely Tom watched his father in the rear view mirror as he drove away and he smiled.

His father was always there but he was more background noise than his mother was. He had never quite been as here as he had been recently. He had been omnipresent, front and centre. A rock when he needed one, someone to be there before and after a therapy sessions. Sure his mother had put him up to it, but the older man had been willing to do it, willing to be there for his adult son.

And then the truth hit.

Tom realised, as he left his waving smiling father, that the older man had been truly worried about him. That he really did have solid a support network. People who had his back, people who cared and would do anything to help. His father, mother, friends – and Melody. No one more than Melody. His happiness didn't depend on her, he couldn't put that on her. It wasn't fair. But even when he wasn't happy, she was there.

Surely that's what love really was?

He loved Melody Taylor.

He'd had that epiphany already but this was more. This was him really understanding, it becoming his reality not something abstract.