Chapter Eighteen: This Picture

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Nick came inside and put down his guitar case in the hall.

'That you, Nick?' called Richard from the kitchen.

'No, it's Father Christmas. Sorry I'm a couple months late, traffic was hell.'

Richard laughed. 'You hungry?'

Nick took off his shoes and coat and walked into the kitchen. 'What's for dinner?'

Richard tossed his head towards the cooker. 'Spagbol. Help yourself, I already ate. How was band practice?'

'Not bad. Stuart got us another new gig in a few weeks. At this rate, we're gonna have to write some new songs, or people are gonna get sick of us.'

'Fat chance, you guys are fantastic.' Richard smiled.

Nick piled food onto a plate and sat down. Richard appeared to be elbow deep in paperwork. 'Should I leave you to it, or would you like an excuse to take a break?' Nick asked.

Richard closed his laptop. 'I would lovean excuse to take a break. What's up?'

'Matt and Stuart have invited themselves over for my birthday on Friday. So I guess we're having dinner.'

'We were going to have dinner, anyway,' Richard pointed out. 'It's your eighteenth birthday. It's meant to be a surprise, though, so don't tell yourself.' He winked. 'I mean, since you haven't expressed an interest in having a party, we have to throw you one, even if it's just dinner and cake with your family.'

'Matt wants to bring cake. Not sure if I trust him.' Nick took a bite of his food, considering what to say next. He'd been thinking about something on his way home, but he wasn't even certain he wanted to say it out loud. He sighed.

'Something wrong, mate?'

Nick shook his head. 'I dunno. I kind of had a thought . . . I mean, I've been thinking about it for a while and I was wondering if maybe it's time I talk to my mum. Saturday will be the second anniversary of her . . . her suicide attempt. So maybe I should go see her. I don't know. Don't know if it's even . . . I mean, I don't know what kind of state she's in right now. She's institutionalised.'

'I know.' Richard gave Nick's shoulder a squeeze. 'If this is something you think you're ready for, I think you should do it. She's your mother, after all. And you don't just stop loving someone 'cause they do something shitty. Right?'

Nick shook his head. 'No. You don't.'

'You should give Zoë a ring and talk to her about it.'

'Yeah.' Nick took another bite. 'This is really good, by the way. Thanks for cooking.'

'No worries at all, pal.'

When he had finished, Nick left Richard to his paperwork and went to his room to call Zoë.

'Hey Nick! To what do I owe this unexpected pleasure?'

'Hey Zoë. What you up to?'

'Just some coursework. Nothing that can't wait. What's up?'

Nick hesitated again. He wasn't sure that he even wanted to see his mother, but he still felt like he should. It was time. Zoë hadn't been to see her properly either. In two whole years. 'I've been thinking . . . I want to see Mum.'

The line was silent for a little while. Then Zoë sighed. 'Are you sure?'

'No. But I want to do it anyway. I think I need to. I've spent so much time being angry with her, and . . . I've actually talked to Evan about this, before. He thinks facing her might help me. And I need to stop being so angry all the time. I need to . . . I need to let this go.'

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