Page 40 of Small Sacrifices

When his mother calls that evening, Reid wants to just ignore it again. But that way lies trouble. Instead, he wraps his blanket tighter around his body and taps the little green icon on his phone screen.

"Good—"

"Darling, you really need to stop ignoring my calls. I was worried about you." His mother sounds put out. "Briana said you were alright, but it'd be nice if you just let me check on you to make sure."

Right. Reid takes a deep breath. Experience shows it'll be of no use to tell her she could have texted.

He's never ignored a text from his parents.

If they could accept how difficult it is for him to call someone, communication would be much easier.

Oh, well. He tries to appease her with an apology for his forgetfulness, but she won't have it.

"Reid, that doesn't make me any less worried. Do you know when you forget things? When you're stressed. I thought we agreed you should avoid stress."

If he rubs his wool blanket between his fingers hard enough, it's abrasive. Reid gentles his grip. Can't afford to hurt his fingers right now. He might have to type up a surprise report at a moment's notice.

"I said I’d try. But that's not practical, Mom, you know that. And it's not actually that bad. Things get hectic sometimes, but I don't take it home." He's happy with that response for the split seconds it takes for his mother to digest it and not a moment longer.

"Hectic? That poor little boy died, and people are falling over themselves to point fingers. I've seen the news conferences, Reid. That's a bit more than just hectic."

Reid wouldn't know that, actually, because he wasn't involved in any of them. He tries to tell her that, but she's already off on a tangent on all the different statements that have been given by the parties involved since Robin died.

"That Coleman woman is a competent public speaker, I'll give her that. But she keeps tiptoeing around like she has something to hide. It makes her look like a liar. You know what would help, Reid?"

A dull pain settles into Reid's temples. "No," he says, because it's always best to let these things run their course.

"If your governor said something. Don't think the people haven't noticed that he hasn't actually said anything. I've noticed. You know, I'm getting worried that he actually has something to do with this. Aren't you worried?"

Bullseye. Not that he can say that. If Reid is honest now, his parents are only going to punish him for it. He tries his best to deflect. "Mom, you know how politicians are. There's a strategy behind it."

"I also know what a liar looks like when I see one. Honey, I know you really admire him. But are you sure you put your trust in the right person?"

They don't have to be in the same room for Reid to know the exact expression she has on her face right now—eyebrows raised and scrunched up, eyes big, mouth pursed. His stomach clenches on its own accord.

"Mom—" he tries to answer, only to discover she isn't done yet.

"You know you've never been good at judging people.

I know you want to see the best in them, but sometimes, that's just not justified.

You can't believe everyone. And I don't think you should believe Governor Mackenzie, sweetheart.

Your father agrees with me," she adds, like that's what'll finally convince Reid.

Heart pounding, Reid looks down at the phone in his lap. She's right. She usually is. But that doesn't mean her words cut any less deeply. Fuck. Why is it that she always has to say these truths in the worst way possible? Not an ounce of tact in her, and she wonders where Reid gets it.

It takes Reid a moment to gather his wits and be sure his voice won't shake when he answers her. "I think it's too early to judge. This isn't… I don't like it either, okay? But I did my research on him. Even if it's true, this isn't something anyone could have seen coming."

That's good, right? Not too committal. And he's sticking to his guns. One of these days, they're finally going to see him as a capable adult. Until then, he just has to stay calm and persevere.

"I would have seen it coming," his mother insists on the other end of the line, oblivious to how tightly Reid's teeth are clenched already. "You should have come to us for help. Your father and me, we're better at recognizing these things. Remember when…"

And she's off on yet another anecdote about a time Reid got duped by a kid at school who pretended he was his friend so that he could steal his meds. A kid who his mother, when she first met him, described as: "Just the nicest young man."

Reid breathes through it. He tells himself it's fine. It's always been obvious that he has social deficits in some areas. That's fine. He knows where his blind spots are and how to best work around them so he doesn't miss anything. Except, he did miss something this time. Something massive.

For a second, he thinks that maybe his mother is right.

Maybe other people can tell from a mile off.

It would be just like Reid to be the last one in on the secret that the governor of California would knowingly let children play in a poisoned schoolyard.

Just don't build a playground on it. But if that were true, he wouldn't have won the election by such a large margin.

His mother, done reminiscing, is back to the subject. "You're really lucky you're not in a more public role, you know? Just imagine, what if you had to step in front of the cameras and defend that man, and it turned out to all be lies? That'd be your reputation ruined, too. Your name."

She says it like that's the worst thing that could happen. "Maybe you really should do the marketing for Becky's boutique. She's not nearly as scandal prone. You could try it for a few weeks—who knows, you might like it!"

"Mom, please." Reid buries his head in his hands. "I can make my own decisions. I made this decision. If it turns out to have been the wrong one, I'm going to figure out how to deal with that. If I can't, I'll ask for help. You said I had a year."

His mother sighs. "Yes, but sweetheart—"

"Then please let me try this. I'll never be independent if I rely on you for every single decision. That's not how that works."

"I just worry, darling."

Yeah, so does Reid. About a whole bunch of things, but mostly about one particular question: What if he's wrong?

What if this is so bad that he won't be able to recover on his own?

If all of this comes to light, who's going to want Reid to work for them when this is his only experience? That can't look good.

He steers the conversation into calmer waters after that, but his mother can tell he's distracted. In a rare show of empathy, she lets him go without even dragging his father into the conversation to say goodnight.

Despite how tired Reid is, he doesn't fall asleep for a long while. There's just too much on his mind. Once his thoughts are finally done circling about how all of this could possibly end well for him, they jump to Everett and then back again.