As I trudged into the bathroom, my feet heavy with the weight of my own thoughts, I couldn't even muster up the energy to greet George, who was already up and brushing his teeth. The sound of the water running and the gentle scrubbing of his toothbrush against his teeth were the only sounds that filled the room. I just walked past him, my eyes fixed on the sink, my mind consumed by the events of the previous day. The memory of my mom's anger and her threat to report my dad to her lawyer still lingered, making my stomach twist with anxiety.
But George, sensing my distress, spoke up, his voice gentle and soothing, like a calm breeze on a summer day. "Hey, David, don't worry anymore, okay?" he said, his words dripping with kindness and concern.
I stopped in my tracks, my hand hovering over the toothbrush holder, my eyes fixed on George's reflection in the mirror. I felt a surge of surprise and curiosity, wondering how he knew what was bothering me.
"What do you mean?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper, my words trembling slightly.
George spat out the toothpaste and rinsed his mouth before turning to me, his eyes filled with empathy and understanding. "I talked to your mom last night," he said, his voice filled with a sense of calm and reassurance. "She's not going to report your dad to her lawyer."
I felt a wave of relief wash over me, like a cool wave crashing against the shore, soothing my frazzled nerves. But it was quickly replaced by skepticism, my mind racing with doubts and questions. Could it be true? Could my mom really change her mind?
"How do you know?" I asked, my voice laced with doubt, my eyes narrowing slightly.
George smiled, his eyes crinkling at the corners, his face filled with a sense of warmth and kindness. "I know because I talked to her, David," he said, his voice filled with conviction. "I told her how much it would hurt you and Emily if she went ahead with it. And she listened, she really did. She's not going to do it."
I felt a lump form in my throat as I processed George's words, my mind racing with emotions and thoughts. I felt a sense of gratitude towards George, for being there for me, for trying to make things right. I felt a sense of hope, that maybe, just maybe, things would start to look up. Maybe my family could start to heal.
"Thanks, George," I said, my voice cracking with emotion, my eyes welling up with tears. "Thanks for talking to her."
George nodded, his eyes filled with understanding and compassion. "Anytime, David," he said, his voice filled with warmth. "We're a family, and we stick together."
I nodded, feeling a sense of gratitude and love towards George. I took a deep breath and began to brush my teeth, feeling a sense of hope and renewal that I hadn't felt in a long time. Maybe, just maybe, things would start to look up. Maybe my family could start to heal.
As I stood there, trying to process the weight of George's words, I felt a surge of gratitude towards him. I felt like simply feeling relieved wasn't enough to express my appreciation for this information. I needed to do something more, something physical to show him how much I valued his intervention. I wanted to convey the depth of my emotions, to let him know that his actions had made a significant impact on me.
So, I turned and walked towards George, my eyes fixed on his warm and comforting presence. I could see the kindness in his eyes, the understanding in his expression. I wrapped my arms around his waist, hugging him tightly through the side, and rested my head on his lat, just under his arm. It was a tight squeeze, but George didn't flinch, instead, he transferred his toothbrush to his left hand and began to pat me gently on the back.
"Thanks, George," I whispered, my voice muffled against his side. "Thanks for talking to Mom. Thanks for being there for me."
George continued to pat me on the back, his touch warm and soothing. "Anytime, David," he said, his voice filled with warmth. "We're a family, and we stick together. We support each other, no matter what."
As we stood there, wrapped in each other's arms, I felt a sense of calm wash over me. I felt like everything was going to be okay, like we were going to get through this together.
After a few moments, I pulled back, feeling a sense of peace settle over me. We finished getting ready for the day, and soon, we were all seated at the table, enjoying our breakfast.
As we ate, I turned to Mom and said, "Thanks for changing your mind, Mom. I really appreciate it. I know it couldn't have been easy for you."
Mom smiled and glanced at George, who was sitting to her right. "You should thank George for that," she said, her voice filled with a hint of amusement. "He's the one who convinced me to change my mind."
I turned to George, who was sipping his coffee, a hint of a smile on his face. "Thanks, George," I said, my voice filled with gratitude. "I owe you one. You always know how to make things right."
George chuckled and set his coffee down. "You don't owe me anything, David," he said, his voice filled with warmth. "We're a family, and that's what families do. We support each other, we lift each other up. We're in this together."
"And about that David, this would be the last time you're reaching out to him, your Dad, if he ever reaches out to you before your eighteenth birthday, make sure to let me know." Mom cautioned me.
"Okay Mom." I replied.
One thing is for sure, everyone around this table knew, including me, that if it's for reaching out to Dad, I would never stop, unless there's no other ways to.