Al sighed and sat back against the kitchen table, his legs sprawling out to either side of Tich as she stepped closer to him.  Like this, they were finally at eye level. He ran a hand through his short blonde hair, and opened and closed his mouth a few times for good measure.

She realised he was struggling to find the words. He was floundering, unsure how to broach the topic.  That was probably why he'd wanted to wait till after they'd slept more.  But even if she slept more, she'd never really be ready for this conversation.  She'd known he had to leave eventually. She'd just thought she had more time.

"Listen-"

Tich shook her head and held up a hand, putting her fingers lightly up against his lips to quieten him. She could see how difficult it was for him, and she wanted desperately to lighten that burden.

"It's okay," she whispered. "You don't owe me an explanation."  She swallowed, trying to give herself the time to make her next words meaningful. "I'll be okay."

He smiled at her disbelievingly and gently caught her hands in his.

"You could tell me to stay," he whispered.

She could. She took another step forward and looked into his eyes, searchingly. Trying to work out if that would make it easier on him. If he wanted to stay. To be with his mum. To avoid his responsibilities to the team. To have the time to grieve a little more fully outside of the public eye. She didn't mind being his excuse. But it was more complicated than that.

"Do you want me to?" she wondered. He caught his breath. Oddly, she found herself smiling. She pulled her hands free and slid her arms around him, her forearms resting on his shoulders. "You're a really good person, Alan Holmes. You're kind, and you'd put everything on hold for your mum and dad. But this tournament you've got coming up. That's important too. For your career, and for your team mates." He closed his eyes briefly and she leant her forehead against his. "Then, I think you should go." She couldn't stop the sound of her voice breaking. He opened his eyes again. In the first rays of the sun, they were a deep unfathomable blue.

"Who's going to take care of them?" he whispered, his voice choked with emotion.

"I will," she said. Like it was the simplest thing in the world. "I'll look after them, and they'll look after me. We'll all support each other."

"If I stayed..."

There were half a dozen things she could have said. 

Sylvia would be so angry with him if he didn't compete.  It was so easy to fall out of the public eye.  Fans didn't know the intricacies of his life. He wouldn't want to share it all. Not yet. Not until he'd had the time to process everything. But if he didn't go, they would be disappointed.  If he didn't go, he'd affect his rankings just at the pivotal time that he was transitioning into the adult leagues.

She knew his reluctance. He wanted to be there for his parents. Filling the house up with people was one of the few things that kept them distracted.  Because the moment he left they'd be left staring at the gaping wound, the emptiness where Sylvia used to be.

In this light and with their faces so close, every nuance of expression was fully exposed to one another. She saw his sadness.  His anticipation.  His regret.  All the emotions he'd never really let show.  Because he was busy being strong.  It was somehow more intimate than any words or caresses could ever be. He was sharing something exquisite and irreplaceable.

It broke her heart.

She loved him. For all that he was. For all that he tried to be.

They weren't the feelings of some immature flight of fancy. Or the feelings of a young girl overcome by her hormones, feeling physical attraction for the first time. This felt more profound.  She didn't think she was fooling herself. 

"They're not the only ones who lost her," she whispered. "You did too. And I'm sure being strong for them probably helps you cope. But you can't shoulder their grief.  No one can replace Sylvia. Not me. And not you. We're different people."  He swallowed, and she saw tears in his eyes. "Please don't try to bridge that gap. You can't make the pain go away." She had to take little gasps between her sentences. It was like she wasn't getting enough oxygen. Crying was also physically exhausting. "It's horrible, but everyone's got to suffer in their own way. And that's only right. Because it shows how much they loved her."

He closed his eyes. His lips a fine line of grief. Then his arms were around her waist and his head was buried in her chest and his shoulders vibrated beneath her fingers as he gave in at last.  She ran her fingers through his hair and across his back in little circles, trying to be soothing, even though her heart ached. 

"You, know. Your mum told me I had to keep chasing what I wanted, even without Sylvia."  She wiped her eyes and nose on her arm. There weren't any tissues, and she didn't want to move.  "She'd be furious if she knew you were holding yourself back for their sake.  If you need to be here, if it helps you, then stay. But don't do it out of duty without speaking to them first."

That was the point, wasn't it?  Perhaps that was what Mark had been trying to say.  Even though Sylvia wasn't here.  They were.  His sobs had subsided, and he was slowly breathing in and out. Listening to her as she ran her hands through his hair. 

"I... didn't want to believe I could live without her," she confessed. "I wanted to believe that so badly. I decided I definitely wasn't going to go to Egypt without her, and I'd never see a ballet again." She wasn't going to be in love with Al either, but there was no need to mention that. "But there were so many things we were going to do together that I don't think the world's big enough for me to avoid them all."

"That's stupid," He said it offhandedly, and she wasn't offended. Her gaze drifted to kitchen around them. She remembered what it used to look like before they'd redecorated it.  She'd been coming to this house since she was eight years old. It was so familiar. For once, she didn't try to fight the waves of nostalgia. She and Sylvia had shared so many memories here. Cutting them out of her mind was like forgetting half of her life. "I think she'd have wanted you to do them for her," Al said, looking up at her. He was exhausted. His eyes were puffy and red. But he broke into a smile and she thought he was the most beautiful person she'd ever seen. "I can imagine she had quite the bucket list."

"Yeah," Tich laughed.  "Yeah, she did.  And I get that now.  I can't live her life. I miss her.  I'm always going to be missing her, but maybe that's okay? Maybe 'moving on' for me isn't about leaving her behind. It's about realising I can't stay here forever, just missing her.  She was my best friend, and she was wonderful. And she'd be so cross with me for giving up on everything else."

"I can imagine her telling you off for it," Al said, smiling fondly at whatever picture of Sylvia he was imagining.  He took a deep breath.  "Thank you for telling me that." He reached up and brushed away some of her tears.  "And thank you for being here. You're right, I should talk to mum and dad more openly about this.  With the others here it's been easier to avoid those conversations.  I find it very difficult to talk about what upsets me.  But you've been amazing in this. Honestly, Tich. I couldn't have gotten through these past few weeks without you. I hope you realise how much it's meant to me, that you would just talk to me about her, about the past, without pushing me or judging me if I didn't want to say how I felt."  He took her hands in his again. "You're the strong one.  Being able to say all of that.  I'm jealous.  I wish I could express myself that way.  I wish I'd had more time with her, and that I hadn't been away for so long.  I thought-" He brushed a tear from his own face.  "I thought I could make up for it somehow, by being here. But I can't get that time back. And I wish I could have as many stories as you do."

"Al, she was so proud of you. Of course, she missed you. But she was so happy you were able to keep playing tennis. To keep training and dedicating yourself to that dream.  You don't get to be half as good as you without working towards it for years and years. She knew that."  He squeezed her hand. 

"Yeah." he whispered.  "Thanks."

The kitchen light suddenly clicked on. There was a slight clearing of the throat.

Dr Holmes stood in the doorway, his glasses slightly askew. A thick dressing gown and fluffy sheepskin slippers engulfing him in warmth and comfort. A slight blush was visible beneath the large moustache and short trimmed beard that engulfed most of his face.  Their position might have looked a little compromising. A little daring. 

Dr Holmes made a show of fumbling to open up his newspaper, but when he noticed their expressions, and the remnants of their tears, he put the paper down.

"Is everything alright?" he asked, kindly.  Dr Holmes had always been such an energetic and friendly man.

"Hi Dad," Al said softly, and a little sadly.

"Hi," she said, perhaps a little too cheerily, a little too loudly. Al smiled slightly and squeezed her hand.  "Sorry," she whispered.  "Did we wake you?"

"Not at all.  I have an early shift at the hospital.  I was just going to make coffee.  Would either of you like some?" He didn't say anything about their tear-stained cheeks.  When they hadn't replied to his earlier question, he'd guessed the underlying cause.  It wasn't some more immediate danger he had to deal with. 

"I'd love one," Al said.  Tich tilted her head, thoughtfully.  She really needed to go back to sleep. But she wasn't sure she'd be able to.

"Yeah," she agreed.  "Coffee would be good."  She wasn't going to make it to morning practice.  She'd much rather stay here, with them.

"Did you kids have fun last night?" Sylvia's dad checked.  He put a box of tissues on the table without a word, and then busied himself with the coffee machine.

"Yes, thanks," Tich said.

"We're just a little sleep deprived," Al agreed.  He stood up, squeezed and then dropped Tich's hands before taking a few tissues.  He handed one to her and wiped his face with another. 

"Thanks," Tich whispered.  Then she turned from him to blow her nose noisily.  Alan went digging through the cupboards for mugs.

"And, Happy Birthday, Tich," Dr Holmes continued.  He had to pause as the coffee beans were being ground noisily.  Tich quickly went to close the kitchen door so that they didn't wake the others.  "Are you going to start driving lessons soon?"

"Yeah, maybe.  I haven't really put too much thought into it.  But it would be good to learn."

She got the milk out and passed it to Al.  Dr Holmes was doing some kind of crazy barrista style magic with the grounds in the filter paper.  He'd poured in just enough that it started to bubble up, then paused to watch it bloom.  Fresh coffee smelt so much better than any of the instant coffee Tich made for herself. 

"Did you ever learn?" she asked Al curiously, sitting down at the table and drawing her legs up under her.

"I've never had the time - maybe after the tournament?  When there's a bit more time."

"Do you want to look at instructors around here?" Dr Holmes asked, as he poured the rich, steaming coffee into their mugs.  "If you come back, I mean?"  Al froze. Tich couldn't see either of their expressions. But Dr Holmes put an arm around his son.   "We'd love to come and see you play, Alan.  Your mother was saying how much she was looking forward to it, just the other day."

Alan leant heavily on the counter, still facing away, but Tich could imagine the expression on his face.  Guilt and relief.  Sadness and joy.  A dichotomy of expression.  Her heart went out to him.  And not for the first time, she appreciated Dr Holmes for his knack of always knowing the right thing to say.

Author Notes:

Hey lovelies,

This was probably the hardest chapter for me to write.

If you enjoyed this, please recommend it to your friends!

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