“Yes?” She replied with a harried tone.
“I’ve fucked up, Ma,” he stated, taking the burden of his issues entirely on his own shoulders. Blaming himself for the faults of others. He could accept Brierley’s pain. Reconcile her stubbornness in not wanting to hear him out while she came to terms with her emotions. He’d caused all that, thanks to Rosani’s intrusion.
“What have you done?” She accused, but there was another hint in her voice. Hope. Dura had wanted his venture to fail from the start. And here he was, calling her, she’d assume, ready to slink back a failure.
Breht’s brow twitched as he caught onto it, but didn’t press the thought. “There’s been this girl,” he started to explain. “Brierley.”
“From Ohpaua?” Dura asked.
“Yes, and God. Rosani’s here. And she thinks she caught us doing something and…” he stammered.
“Rosani caught you cheating?” Dura jumped to conclusions.
“No, Ma! I’m not with Rosani, I keep telling you. Brierley. She saw Rosani trying to kiss me and…”
“Why don’t you come home?” Dura suggested. “It’s where you belong, and we can sort this whole mess out?”
He let out a terse sigh. The support his Matriarch offered was practical, but running away from his problems, from Brierley, felt discordant with everything he had set in motion. He wanted to stay in the seaside town. With her. Work all this craziness out. His next words froze in his throat like ice before they had a chance to form; Dura’s implication stopped him dead.
“Is she going to keep it?”
“W…What?” He eventually managed to stammer.
“Is she willing to have an abortion?” Dura rephrased.
He felt sick. That his own Matriarch could suggest that he was so terribly irresponsible, on multiple levels, turned his stomach.
“Do you think I am that bloody reckless?” He hissed down the phone. His choler was once again quick to rise, caught off guard by such a wicked accusation. Strong fingers gripped the flowery duvet on which he sat, trying to calm himself before biting back, kicking off an argument with his Matriarch.
“It wouldn’t be the first time, Breht,” she replied. Finally, using his given name, with all the condescension a mother could muster.
“What?” He repeated dumbly, wrong-footed once again by one of her statements. A falsehood being levelled at him.
“Rosani came to me once.”
He swallowed hard, and his face slipped into his hand, thick fingers holding the broad bridge of his nose. “And you believed her?” He lamented. Not a single inch of him was surprised that his ex would lie about something so major. It wasn’t an argument worth pursuing; yes, he could call Rosani and scream at her down the phone, but what would that do other than bring them both back together? It’s exactly what she would want. Even if they’d be at one another’s necks again. He’d rather assume that she’d cheated on him and gone running to his Matriarch with a sob story. Rosani had been unfaithful before, so why would he assume any potential child, real or imaginary, would be his?
“Then what is the issue?” Dura asked. It was at that moment that he realised that she’d never understand. He needed the guiding light of another person to help him understand how to deal with Brierley when she was upset. Someone who could actually help him to make things right, rather than look for excuses to bring him home and back into a life he no longer wanted to be a part of.
“I’ll ring you tomorrow, Ma,” he said with another lingering sigh. He should have known better than to phone Dura. She wasn’t the beacon of loving support that he needed right now, and he ended the call before she could get in another condescending word.
He twirled his phone over in his hand, biding his time. Rather than putting it down on the duvet next to him, he scrolled through the numbers in his phonebook. He gazed at each ofthe numbers in turn. Lingering on the names of those nearest and dearest. For a singular moment, he considered calling Gorim, but his friend would just ply him with alcohol until all understanding of reality was lost in a drunken haze of regret.
His thumb hovered over the number of someone he thought would listen. Who would help? After a deep breath to steady his nerves, he pressed the call into motion.
She answered after the third ring.
“Hello?”
“Hi, it’s Breht, is this…?”
“Tori, yes! How can I help you, Mr?”
Tori had forced her number upon him during the party, and Alluin’s, and he was now glad of the fact. He reclined on the bed, resting his back against the wall as he recounted what had happened. He poured his heart and soul into the conversation, and Tori, for her part, listened to the lamentations of the orc as he explained the intricate details of his life and recently departed relationship with Rosani. He went further than explaining what Brierley had been witness to; imparting the troubled dealings with his Matriarch, what his future held and how he felt about her best friend.
He heaved another broken-hearted sigh as he added, “I know this is what I need to tell Brierley, but she was really mad, and I get that. I really do. I just don’t know what to do. And was hoping you could help?” He eventually asked, hoping that Tori had some wisdom to impart. That she could tell him something to fix his mistakes.
“What is it you’re hoping I can do, Breht?” Tori asked, her tone serious. “I don’t know as if it’s my place to speak to her on your behalf.”
