Shame the Devil
by Mab
It's a pleasant room. The walls are pale green, and there are two pre-Raphaelite prints on the wall. Naomi hung a dream catcher from the window when she first arrived, before she was hooked up to the stands and the bags and the tubes.
Blair's face is creased with an effortful smile. The smile froze for a moment when he saw how thin his slender mother had become. She's skeletal now, but her eyes still glow with determination. Naomi gestures with a languid hand.
“Sweetie. I want to talk to Jim on my own. The gardens here are pretty, even if maybe they ought to think about a less water-use intensive option.”
Something like genuine amusement appears in Blair's face. “What, is this the 'look after my boy when I'm gone' talk?”
“Stop analysing my intentions. This won't take long.” Blair rises from his seat and kisses her brow.
“I'll go smell the roses, then.”
Jim is a silent presence through all of this. The shock on his face when he saw Naomi was quickly wiped away, but he's spent the time that Blair and Naomi have spoken flicking his eyes from mother to son, resting his gaze more often on Blair. He's said nothing as Blair has remonstrated with his mother for leaving it this long to tell him, he's kept his hands clasped tightly against his gut as Blair has cried just a few broken sobs into his mother's lap, while her hands weakly stroke his hair.
The door shuts behind Blair and Naomi smiles in sad mockery of her former, healthy charm.
“I have a little confession to make, Jim.”
Jim's chin lifts in stubborn denial.
“I'm not your priest, Naomi.”
“It's important,” she insists.
“Save it. Besides, I already know.”
“I doubt that,” she begins, and then is cut off by Jim's words.
“I know you leaked Blair's dissertation on purpose.”
She sits in her bed, flustered. Then she calms.
“But you forgave me anyway.”
“Not particularly. But Blair loves you, and it's not the first time I've lied or pretended for an important aim.”
“And how well you did it. I usually felt quite welcomed,” she says with a touch of acid.
Jim shrugs. “I owed Blair. He can be flaky sometimes, but he's not stupid. And when I reached the point where I could think about that goddamned mess without wanting to die, I realised that I could say the same thing about you.”
“I didn't mean what happened to happen.”
“Oh, I'm sure of that. You wanted your son to be the great, admired, liberal academic, and if his uptight pig roomie kicked him out of his life, well, wouldn't that be a shame.”
She's not afraid to look him in the eye. Scarier things than Jim Ellison keep regular company with her these days.
“You weren't what I expected, or what I wanted for him.”
Jim's mouth stretches in a small, tight grin. “But he wanted me anyway, and there are some mistakes I'm not making again.”
She sighs. She's very, very tired.
“I know you'll look after him.”
“Yes. I've never thrown it in his face up to now, and soon there won't be the same temptation, will there?”
“That wasn't what I meant.”
He stands, and presses her bony, cold hand with his for one short moment; two adversaries at truce.
“I know. And yes, I'll look after him.” Jim's head tilts. “He's coming back.”
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