Mother's Day

Author: Romantique
 
Email: dolph1n@sbcglobal.net

Rating: PG – Language
 
Classification: Nick Angst.

Distribution: Archive anywhere, but e-mail me,
please. 

Summary: Nick talks to his mother on Mother's Day.


Author's Note: Yeah, yeah, yeah. I know I have another fic to finish, but I'm 
not in the mood.
 
 
--+--


South Hills Cemetary
May 11, 2003
Noon

Nicholas Fallin walks along the lush, well-manicured, path. His feet
know the way, as he has walked along this same path so many times
before. The sun shines bright in Pittsburgh today, its rays
penetrating through the fibers of Nick's heather sweater, spreading
welcome warmth onto the back of his neck and shoulders.

He is not alone on his trek, for today is Mother's Day. Small,
respectful gatherings of people dot the vast hillside of the
cemetary. In his hand, Nick holds a fragrant bouquet of white roses,
his mother's favorite.

After walking along the path for a few more moments, he finally
arrives at his mother's graveside, kneels down on one knee, and
places the bouquet into the bronzed vase at her headstone.

<These are for you, Mom. Happy Mother's Day.>

He then assumes a solemn stance before the grave of Anne Fallin with
his hands clasped in front of him.

Another Mother's Day without his mom has come and will soon be gone.
As the years wane, each Mother's Day seems come around again, faster
and faster in time. A hard lump forms in his throat, as he is
uncomfortable in admitting that memories of his mother are gradually
slipping away. In fact, he can barely remember what she looked like
anymore without referring to one of her photographs. But that
doesn't mean he doesn't often think of her.

"I haven't been here is awhile. Not since last autumn," he begins to
explain to his mother. "There's no excuse for not visiting other
than I've been busy. I'm helping Dad with the firm. I'm a partner
now."

<I bet you would have liked that.>

He continues to speak to his mother; his voice is soft and low. "I,
uh, I'm seeing someone. She sometimes reminds me of you. But she
may be moving away to take a job in California."

<I think you would have liked her, too.>

Swallowing past the lump in his throat, he continues, "Her name is
Louisa, but everyone calls her Lulu." He grimaces as a ray of
sunlight hits him in the eyes. "I really thought she was the one for
me. But now . . . now, I don't know what to think."

The young man drops his head and lets out a deep breath. It feels
nice to be able to talk to someone, even if she can't hear what he is
saying.

"I . . . I think I have to let her go," he releases pent up thoughts
in a controlled fashion.

<Face it. It's not as if I have anything to say about the matter.>

"But I'm having . . . I'm having a hard time dealing with this," he
confesses. "I'm not dealing with the prospect of losing her very
well, at all."

Tears begin to well up in his steely eyes to match the tightness in
his throat.

<I wish you were here, Mom. Maybe you could tell me what to do.>

Nick's private conversation is interrupted as his father walks up
beside him.

"I can come back a little later if you need to be alone," Burton
offers. Unlike Nicholas, the older gentleman is wearing a suit and
tie.

<Dad must have come here directly from church.>

Not wanting his father to see him cry, Nick quickly pulls himself
together.

"Uh, no, Dad, that's okay. I was just getting ready to leave," Nick
gives an unconvincing reply.

Burton then places an even larger bouquet of long stemmed white roses
on top of his former wife's grave. He then places his large, steady
hand onto the shoulder of his only son.

"No, son, don't leave on my account. I really just stopped by to pay
my respects. Shannon's in the car waiting for me. We're here to pay
our respects to her mother and her grandmother. You know, it's
Mother's Day without her mom."

"Yes, I would know all about Mother's Day without a mom," Nick
answers his father with a chilled break in his voice and moves aside
so that his father is no longer touching his shoulder.

"Of course you would," Burton quickly tries to recover from his
insensitive remark.

Nick's empty stare instantly lets Burton know that this conversation
is not going anywhere. Burton has learned from experience when his
son closes him off, he will not allow his father back in.

Clearing his throat, Burton prepares to leave and says, "I'll see you
tomorrow morning at the office."

"I have to be in Court tomorrow morning," Nick informs his
father, "with an LSP case." He waits for a reaction from his
father. There is always a reaction these days.

As if on cue, Burton lets out a spontaneous sigh of
frustration. "You have the nerve to tell me I'm not pulling my
weight, when you cannot be there for the monthly Jenkins Trust
meeting? That's your client, for God's sake! One of our largest,
one I gave to you," Burton hisses.

Nick steps back and turns to the side in an attempt to shield his
mother's grave from the ugly display.

"You would say something like that," Nick whispers under his breath.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Burton snaps.

<You have the patience of Job when it comes to a stripper's
daughter. But when it's your own son . . . >

"Why can't you ever give me the benefit of doubt?" Nick asks his
father, as his face screws up in disgust. "I rescheduled the
Jenkin's Trust meeting for Tuesday afternoon."

"Oh, so you rescheduled one meeting," Burton jabs back. "It will
only be a matter of days before LSP interferes with your work at the
firm."

"What the hell do you want from me?" Nick demands to know.

Burton abruptly changes the subject. "Did you apologize to Shannon?"

"What?" Nick answers his father's question with one of his own. He
is caught off guard. "Yes, of course I apologized."

Burton looks his son straight in the eyes. "Shannon said that was no
apology. She said you muttered a bunch of mumbo jumbo."

Astounded by what he is hearing, Nick reacts. "That's right, Dad.
Take Shannon's word over mine. I wouldn't expect anything less from
you."

"That's enough, Nicholas," Burton grumbles. "I'm leaving." And
Burton Fallin storms off toward his car.

Nick turns back toward his mother's grave.

<I'm sorry you had to see that, Mom.>

Running his hand through sun-kissed strands of golden hair, Nick
utters, "I don't how much longer I can put up with . . . with his
crap."

He then begins to pace back and forth within a small space past the
foot of the grave.

"Dad's lost it. Lulu is probably going to move to California. And
my friend, James, has gotten us both into a situation that I don't
know how to get out of. I just wish I could . . ."

<Run away.>

Nick suddenly stops in his tracks. "Maybe I should just go with Lulu
to California."

Out of nowhere, Nick is at peace for the first time in days. Going
away with Lulu to California would solve all his problems. He still
has community service hours to perform, but the end of his sentence
is clearly within sight.

<Thanks, mom.>

"Happy Mother's Day."

And Nick smiles and brings his fingertips to his lips and transfers a
gentle kiss from his fingers to the headstone of his beloved mother.

~fin~