Nick comes home, by Anon

The Wilde residence wasn’t in a good part of town. That wasn’t why Nick had left his uniform on. He used to live this life, scrap in these streets with the same little cretins he’d no doubt be putting into a squad car one day. His nubile fingers dug into his pockets and he managed a subdued yet satisfied grin, breathing in the smells of sewage and unlicensed street food. It was rotten, but it was home, and as he strolled up to the small, two story house pressed between low income high rises, he sighed contentedly.

He rapped twice on the front door, who’s paint had been eaten away by the years. There was the sound of gentle footsteps, and then a few deadbolts clunking out of place, slinking into repose, followed by the door groaning as it edged open.

“Hello?” A red snout appeared in the gap, followed by a graying old fox, who looked out with a trained apprehension. Her guarded, shamrock green eyes fell on Nick, who slouched back and cracked a smile.

“Hey mom.”

The door rolled open and groaned with age. Mrs. Wilde stood in the portal with her hands hung limp and her jaw slack. She eyed her son, or, she thought it was her son. An officer by uniform, but a conman and criminal by upbringing She studied him in silence until her own eyes met his, and in that moment, little Nicky was there again, wearing a crisp scouts uniform and grinning with pride.

“Nick…”  She said, but the words would barely come. She felt dizzy seeing her boy again. Was this her boy still? He looked so different. Handsome, grown up, wearing a smug grin of success like he’d just pulled off some rich hustle.

“Mom, I wanted to just drop by. I know it’s been awhile, and I should have called or something, but I-” He paused, unsure of what to say next. He thought this would come easy to him. Never let them see they get to you, his own advice whispered back at him, and he asked to come inside so he could buy some time.

The house was older than he remembered. Worn out, dusty with the paint drained of it’s hue and cheer. But it was home, and it wore the same humble charm he remembered. He turned around, surprised to see that his mom had followed behind him, almost as if in a trance. “What- What are you wearing?” She stammered.

“This?” He pinched at his sky blue police uniform and chuckled. “It’s my uniform. I’m a…” he halted, trying to find the right words. “I’m a police officer now.”

His mom started forward, her eyes already glimmering with tears. “You’re a police officer?” She repeated, not so much a question, more just affirmation of the fact to herself.

“Yeah, I’m a police officer. I wanted you to come to my graduation, but I didn’t think you’d want to see me after I dropped out on you. I came to say I was sorr-”

She pulled his body against her own, and Nick, who’s posture had stiffened against the sudden embrace, drained the last bits of his clumsy apology with a sigh. Her hands traced around his uniform, squeezing the fabric between her sharp fingers, delicate enough for a baby. Her chin sunk into his shoulder, and her body began to softly heave with a sob. “My baby…” she whispered  “My baby is a police officer...Oh Nickyyy….”

Nick hugged back, his feeble mother inching forward into him. He smiled against the knot in his throat, against the singular jewel of water budding in the wells of his eyes. Never let them see that they get to you, he repeated to himself, and let that single tear of his fall onto the floor.