THEN AGAIN • TC ✔️

10. Amends

Clem doesn't see Timmy for the next two days, but she knows that he's okay because he cooks pasta and leaves the leftovers in a bowl for her on the counter, with a glass of water and a fork by the side. Knows that he's doing alright because on Sunday morning he blasts hip-hop too loudly from his room and she doesn't ask him to turn it down.

Knows he's okay, and knows that she's in the wrong when she's making herself a cup of tea on Monday morning and finds her note behind the back of the kettle, which is right next to the oven, meaning it must have fluttered away when she walked past the crumble. (That would explain why Timmy hadn't seen it. That would explain a multitude of things, like why he had looked so devastated and why he had been so indignant and why Clem had blamed him immediately).

She picks up the note and trashes it. Makes two cups of tea without realising, because she's used to making one for Timmy, too, but he's at school at the moment. (Work? She never knows what to call it, but he's teaching).

The day is annoyingly smooth-going. Clem wants something to annoy her, wants an excuse to feel angry about something, but all of her clients are respectful and lovely and just the same as ever.

And when Timmy gets home on Monday evening, he goes straight to his room. That brief point where he's walking from the front door to his bedroom the first time they've actually been in the same space as each other for three whole days. Clem sighs, fiddling with the netting on a bag of oranges that she is yet to put in the fruit bowl. (They usually do their shopping on Mondays, Tuesdays or Wednesdays, but Clem wasn't sure when Timmy was going to stop avoiding her so she went this evening, before she got home. Didn't buy him any apples because they have more than enough to be getting on with, but she did buy a little plant to put on the mantlepiece and those gummies that Timmy always insists he doesn't like that much and then eats by the packet.)

She gives him a good fifteen minutes, but when there's no music coming from his room and the shower hasn't turned on, she makes her way over to his door. Knocks softly.

Come in.

Clem opens the door just a little; hovers by it. She holds up the candy as Timmy spins around on his chair, and he smiles defeatedly. Lifts up his hands and Clem throws the packet to him across the room. "Peace offering," she smiles. Shuffles into his room and perches on the end of his bed. Tries to be confident in thinking that Timmy wants her here, tries not to feel like she's waltzed in uninvited.

(Because his face is kind of blank but he hasn't told her to get out, and he doesn't look completely disgusted at the prospect of Clem being in his room.)

Timmy turns the packet over in his hands. Smiles again, distantly. Turns back to his computer and clicks a couple of buttons without really doing anything.

"I'm sorry for getting so...you know. About the crumble," she says quietly. Tucks her feet beneath her on Timmy's bedspread.

(It's plain and grey but it smells nice and there are little lint bobbles on it and Clem wants to curl up at the end of Timmy's bed and watch him work. Or not work, as the case may be.)

"You do know I didn't mean to, right?" he replies, not looking up from his computer. Opening a Word document and typing a sentence slowly, haltingly. Timmy underlines the title, then makes it bold, then italicises it, then highlights it. Then undoes each of these transformations one by one.

"Yeah, I know," Clem says. Chews on the inside of her cheek and picks at the bobbles on Timmy's bedding.

"It's just you said you'd make it for me because of...you know. School. And that student," he says, and suddenly it hits her.

(Because she had said that. Because Timmy had been speaking about the student who was finally making progress, had been speaking about the fact that he finally felt like he was getting somewhere, and Clem had suggested that she make another crumble. And Timmy had grinned, laughed, said they should make a whole evening out of it. And Clem had-

God, she'd agreed.

And now.)

"And like, I only took a little bit. As a joke. You know, because that one time when I-" he cuts himself off, laughing lightly. His shoulders shake a little and Clem smiles. (She does remember, because there was that one time when she made a crumble and told Timmy to wait because it had just come out of the oven, but he had taken some anyway. Justified his actions with it's only a little bit, and had proceeded to burn the roof of his mouth on piping hot apple. Now they always do little portions first off. Spend a minute blowing on the crumble if they're impatient for it to cool down.) "Well, yeah," he finishes. Quietly.

"Oh...Timmy, I- Tim, I'm so sorry," she says earnestly. "I completely forgot we were doing that, and just this whole thing with Nick and I didn't realise it was the same night and then-"

"It's fine," he says. Clicks the arrow button in the top left so he can undo every modification he's made since creating the document.

"No, but I was horrible to you and it was over something so stupid," she insists. Pauses, draws her knees up to her chest and jolts her chin up and down against them a few times. "I'm really sorry."

Timmy shakes his head, and his curls shake too, slightly delayed.

"I found the note," she explains. "It was under the kettle, I think it must have- Sorry about that, too," Clem says.

"It's honestly okay."

And Clem wants to believe him so she nods her head and picks at more lint on his blankets and eats the gummy that Timmy throws at her a minute later. They finish the packet in half an hour, both scrolling through their phones on Timmy's bed, Clem's face pushed uncomfortably into Timmy's calf as she uses him for a neck pillow. The Word document looks exactly the same as it did thirty minutes ago.