Visiting Mum (short story- Cole)

Had to rush a bit to get this out in time! I have another short story due for a college class next week, which means I'll immediately start writing my next story now that this one is done. (Fun fact, it'll be about Rowdy and Arlo!)





In early January, by train, Jareth and Cole shared a carriage on their way to their mother’s home in Salcombe. Both men arrived in the early morning when London was misted in thick fog, which only the yellowed beam of the train light pierced through.

Cole studied the ticket pinched between his gloved fingers as he walked down the narrow aisle with carpeted flooring and dark wood walls. As they passed each carriage, he would glance at the number.

“So, ours will be on the left…” He muttered.

Nigel followed behind holding Cole’s luggage in one fist and Jareth’s in the other. He eyed the correct carriage a few rows ahead, but allowed Cole to study each one. Jareth trailed behind both of them with his hands in his pockets and his eyes on the carpet.

“Ah, there we are. On the left,” Cole said, sliding the wooden carriage door open for Nigel.

“What would we do without ya, Cole,” Nigel said. Cole’s brows furrowed, and Nigel grunted as he hoisted the luggage to the carriers above the seats.

“Come now Jareth, Come on,” Cole said, motioning Jareth in.

As Jareth shifted past Nigel, Cole watched him. All morning Jareth hadn't spoken a word, and on the way to the station he had rested his head against the car window and watched the streets. Cole felt that he was sulking.

“Thank you, Nigel,” he said, then cleared his throat.

“No need, Cole. I’ll get my thanks later,” Nigel responded, giving Jareth’s suitcase a shake to see if it would fall.

Cole eyed Jareth. He then gave Nigel a look of warning.

Soon, Cole was seated, and Nigel was standing at the open door. They had arrived a half hour early.

“Right, well that's that,” Cole said.

“You’ll be back Sunday then?” Nigel asked.

“Yes, but I haven’t any idea if we’ll need to stay longer.”

Because of the cancer.

“Ah, you’ll phone me?”

“Yes, if plans change.”

“Hah, right,” Nigel said, “You alright, Jareth?”

Jareth nodded, then scratched his knuckles.

“Excited as ever,” Nigel said, then reached out to give Cole’s shoulder a little nudge. “Best of luck with your mum.”

“Yes, quite,” Cole responded.

“If she’s anything like ya then surely she’s a gem.”

“No- hah, no she’s more like Jareth, really.”

“Mmm,” Nigel hummed, “Well, that's all. Ta lads.”

“Goodbye, Nigel.”

Cole sat with one leg crossed over the other and the back of his head resting against the booth chair. The chair was made from a velvety fabric with red and yellow florals spread across the seat. Jareth sat across from him with his knees pressed together and his hands cupped in his lap.

The carriage bounced peacefully to the impurities in tracks, the green fields speckled with yellow flowers glided by the window, and Cole would occasionally sniff or clear his throat. Cole was disturbed by the way his luggage vibrated in the luggage compartment overhead. He glanced up at it frequently, feeling as though it was not properly secured and may fall from its spot.

His chatty sentences faded after thirty minutes into the ride, and an hour in he became astutely aware that Jareth was- in fact- not writing. Two hours in, Cole questioned a young woman in a navy blue uniform about the tea options, and Jareth read. On the third hour, Cole sat with his arms crossed while Jareth laid curled up on the bench using his wool overcoat as a pillow.

Cole wondered, to himself, if Jareth was upset with him.

Since the paper was released, Jareth hadn’t written a single thing. For almost a month and a half now, Jareth hadn’t done any work at all. In fact, he spent the majority of the time wandering around the estate in a long silk robe and pajamas, or in bed with the curtains shut.

Sometimes, Cole assumed that Jareth was just embarrassed. While on the train, alone with his brother in the carriage, he assumed that Jareth was sulking because he missed Ruby.

Cole sighed through his nose and turned his head away to watch his own reflection in the window. What a terrible thing to think.

During the last hour, Jareth and Cole split an angel delight.

“Why is it… ehm, that we’re going?” Jareth asked.

“What? To see mum?” Cole replied, then swallowed the strawberry cheese cake glob in his mouth. “Well, just to see her, really.”

“Why?”

Cole pictured his mother with a gaping triangle sunken into the middle of her face. Their great grandfather, Arthur, had died without his nose. The cancer had spread deep into the nose tissue, so he decided to remove it completely.

“She hasn’t told me why.”

“Oh,” Jareth said, staring down at his angel delight.

When the train came to a chugging stop at the station, then hissed, Cole had already pulled down their luggage and sat, waiting. Jareth’s hair had been tucked and hidden into a news-boy’s hat and his birthmark was hidden behind the thick lenses of sunglasses.

Cole turned his wrist to read the time, and they had arrived ten minutes before schedule, lovely.

The men worked their way through the crowded aisle and out into the train station, which unlike London’s station led directly outside. Cole managed to flag a taxi and found it quite astonishing that the driver did not help them with hoisting their luggage into the trunk.

Solcombe was a town at the edge of the ocean in the South Hams district. In the 40s it had been used as an American military base, and only a handful of years ago was it deemed an urban district. It was then that Cole bought his mum a home by the ocean.

They drove past the ruins of Fort Charles, now a single curved brick wall, then into the small town that was still developing into a shopping district that overlooked the water. Ferries rode lazily in the water and men wearing full arm length rubber gloves pulled in a net of shellfish.

The church of Salcombe sat at the heart of the small town. The church was built of cool gray brick and colored windows. At the top of a long column held a grand bell, of which rang every hour. Cole directed the taxi driver as they rolled past it, and Jareth studied the stained glass windows.

“Yes- it's a ways up,” Cole directed, pointing up at a tan two story home crowded in thick tree leaves sitting above the town. The houses of Solcombe were on an incline, overlooking the water.

When the taxi cab arrived, the stout man with a cigar that drove them thanked Cole for the tip, then popped the trunk open for them to get their luggage. Cole was once again offended at the lack of help.

Cole lifted their luggage from the trunk, and Jareth began to wave at their mother- Judith- who stood at the front door in her pajamas holding a white cat. Judith’s wiry silver hair had grown past her ribs, the ends cut straight off like the end of a broom.

“Oh-” she whimpered as she began to come down the stone steps, bare footed. She let the cat drop to the ground, and it turned to trot back to the front door with a raised tail.

She rounded the curved stone pathway that cut through thick bushes of pink and white flowers. Jareth met her in the middle and she wrapped her pale arms around his wool cardigan in a tight embrace, rocking him back and forth.

“My sweet boy, my baby. Oh, I missed you!” she said, pulling away to hold his face.

“Hi mum,” Jareth replied.

Cole held both suitcases as he approached, staring down at their mother’s feet on the cold stone.

“You shouldn’t be walking in the cold like that, really,” Cole said.

“Jareth you’re so tall- you’ve gotten so handsome,” she said and pulled him in again to squeeze him.

Jareth’s arms hung loosely at his sides. She released him, took off his sunglasses, and smiled at his face.

“Come now, inside we get,” Cole said, and began to encourage their mother to the front door.

“Oh how are you two? Was the train ride alright? Did they have food you could eat, Jareth?”

“Oh, ehm… yes,” Jareth said.

Cole set down his luggage to get the door for them.

“Yes, it was quite alright,” Cole said, “they hadn’t nearly enough food options, but ehm… they were rather orderly otherwise. Ten minutes early- although their luggage compartment seemed a tad unsteady, really.”

“Were you able to have lunch?” she asked.

“Hah, an angel delight was all.”
Cole entered after the two and set their luggage just beside the door.

The home was two stories high but cozy, taller than it was wide. Fearful that his mother would find a mansion lonesome, Cole purchased her a mini-estate. The carpet in the living room was light pink, matching the white and pink throw pillows clustered on the avocado green couch. The cat with a pinched face sat atop one of the pillows with a flicking tail.

Three lamps with jewels hanging from their rims lined the room. Picture scattered the walls in mismatched frames- some without photos inside and some with news clippings about Jareth. A record player was open and spinning lazily on top of the television playing “Teddy Boy” by Paul Mccartney.

Cole felt very deeply that she had cluttered the home entirely.

After the boy’s were shown to their room, (the walls were plastered with busy wallpaper and the twin beds were covered in frilly duvets) they sat around the couch making conversation with lunch sandwiches and tea.

Jareth was leaned back beside his mother with the cat on his stomach. He pet her in long strokes down to her tail, then would scratch her back on his way back up. Judith watched him, and Cole watched Judith.

“I can’t imagine- oh god the papers,” she said, holding her hand against her chest, “You haven’t been reading them have you? The awful things they say-”

“No, no Jareth hasn’t, really,” Cole said, “I’ve been trying to keep up. I don’t have the luxury of ignoring the media.”

“I’ve read some,” Jareth said.

“Have you?” asked Cole, his brow furrowing. Jareth nodded.

“Oh god sakes, you pay no mind to what they’re saying. I can’t imagine if this is what undoes it all,” she said, circling her fingers over the nub of her collarbone. “It really is little things like this- awful terrible woman. God what an awful thing to say about my boy. It would be so unfair- completely cruel for it to end like this.”

A weight dropped in Cole’s chest. He cleared his throat.

“I won’t be letting that happen.”

“Oh I know, I know,” she said, nodding, “I just- how other celebrities have ruined their reputations I just worry. Terrible woman- oh Cole, oh I can’t stop thinking about your poor children.”

“Yes,” Cole said.

“How are they handling this?”
Cole let out a heavy sigh through his nose, crossing one leg over the other. He traced the rim of his tea cup in increments of three; three one way, then three the other way.

“I haven’t a clue, really. I haven’t seen them, Ruby’s got them off in America with her parents I think.”

“Oh dreadful,” she shook her head, “They were just terrible at that wedding. Those poor children, how awful it must be for them there. With that awful man- and her dreadful mother without a heart.”

Cole pictured Sonya and Anthony in the back of their grandfather's car on their way to learn the operations of a casino. He then pictured Sonya holding Anthony’s hand in a crowd of cheaply dressed men at a bar. And heavens, what of Ruby’s brother? Was he out from the hospital?

“Yes, I’m working to speak with Ruby as soon as possible,” he said.

“I’d really love to see them again, Cole. Oh- haha is the… boy, do you have a boy? You have a boy,”

“Anthony,”

“Oh- is Anthony speaking yet?”

“Yes, uhm, he is. quite well.”

“Sweet boy, I’m sure he’s lovely. I can always watch them, Cole, I would really love to see them again soon.”

Cole stared at his mother. Perhaps she wanted to make a memorable relationship with her grandchildren before passing away from cancer.

“Yes,” he said.”

Their mother reached up to stroke Jareth's long thick hair while smiling at him sadly.

During the afternoon, Cole began to fuss about handy work around the home. He replaced a light bulb, repositioned frames so they’d sit straight, cleaned the crowded litter box, and oiled the hinges of the guest bedroom door after noticing a shrill creak. He then oiled every door in the home.

Throughout the entire evening, Cole lingered by his mother, waiting. When she took Jareth to see the paintings she’d been working on in her art room, Cole leaned against the door and watched. While she showed Jareth the flowers she planted in the garden, Cole stood at the porch with his hands in his pockets. The only moment they had alone together was while Cole helped her cook dinner. Jareth was up in the guest bedroom.

Cole chopped chives with his sleeves rolled up while his mother placed the noodles into boiling water.

“Have you been well?” he asked, then cleared his throat.

“Oh, yes. Yes, today was lovely, really,” she replied.

“Ah…”

For a long while, there was silence.

“Have you been well?” she asked.

“Well, I’m doing quite well for the situation, I think,” he replied. “Nothing I won’t manage.”

Cole could see that she had stopped stirring and was looking at him, Cole kept his gaze on the chives.

“You are so much like your father, Cole.”

She placed her hand on top of Coles. His eyes softened, and he stopped chopping while a deep warmth held in his chest. He pictured himself leaning in, laying his head on her shoulder to be held like a child. He cleared his throat.

“Cole, I need to tell you something, and… oh god- I don’t want you to be bothered by it. You’re so busy. I just don’t know if I can’t tell you, I just don't know how much time…”

“I know,” Cole said, looking at her. She had cancer.

“I’ve been diagnosed with dementia,” she said, “early, very early. I just don’t know- sometimes I worry that I’m losing my mind. And being alone here, I am so frightened I’m going to forget Jareth, or the grandkids.”

She spoke quickly, her eyes glossy. Cole stared at her.

“Dementia?” he asked.

“Yes.”

“Dementia doesn’t- we don’t have dementia in our family,” he said, shaking his head. “Are you certain that's what it is?” Cole looked back down at the chives.

“I’m sorry Cole, I know this is a terrible time, I just don't want you to… I keep imagining that one day you come to see me and I don’t know you, or that I get lost in the street and no one helps me- because my boys never see me.”

“Alright,” he said, then let out a long sigh through his nose,”Alright, I understand. I can certainly find someone to tend to you.”

“No- oh god no Cole.”

“mum, I can’t come take care of you, I haven’t the time.”

“I know, I just… I want to see my boys more, I need to. Cole, you have to visit, please. I just worry- I want to know your children before I don’t know them.”

She suddenly held her hand to her mouth and stepped away. Cole stood still, watching her shake silently. It disturbed him.

The pot on the stove boiled, the cat clock on the kitchen wall ticked, and Cole’s heart beat in his head. For a very long time, neither said anything. Then, Judith continued to stir the pot.

“I will care for you the best way that I can, we’ll certainly manage,” he said.

“Please, you can’t tell Jareth,” she said.

“Right,” Cole replied.

Cole was silent for dinner. Jareth and Judith spoke quietly together, and she smiled sadly at Jareth all throughout the meal. At one point, she reached over and took his hand while he told her he now collected puppets.

He looked at Cole, and Cole looked away.

Come bedtime, Judith brushed Jareth’s hair on the bed while Cole flossed his teeth in the bathroom. He entered the bedroom dressed in navy silk pajamas with the clothes from before his shower folded in his arms. The carpet upstairs was shorter but soft against his bare feet, creaking with each step. He knelt down and grunted when his knee popped, then placed the clothes in his suitcase. He then began to fold the clothes he would be wearing tomorrow, then placed them on the floor beside his bed.

Judith giggled with a closed mouth as she watched him. Cole looked at her, brows furrowed, but she didn’t say anything. She finished brushing Jareth’s hair and placed a hand on his cheek.

“You two will always be my ten year old boys.”

She kissed Jareth's head, then stood up. Cole stared at her as she walked to the door to close it, then waited with her hand on the handle

“Are you off to bed?” Cole asked.

“Oh- yes. Good night, boys. I love you,” she said.

“Night mum. Love you,” Jareth muttered.

Cole cleared his throat and sat on the edge of his bed.

“Yes, goodnight,” he said.

She lingered, then smiled and closed the door. Jareth looked at Cole, and Cole looked at Jareth. Jareth’s damp hair was hanging straight down from their mother brushing it.

“Are we staying after Sun-... Ehm, Sunday?”

“I haven't any idea,” Cole replied.

“Has something happened?”

“No, nothing really,” Cole said, and shifted to begin getting under the covers. Jareth stayed sitting upright.

“Why are we here? Now?”

“Honestly, you’re acting like you haven’t the slightest interest in seeing your own mother- and one that spoils you at that.”

Cole turned off the lamp on the table beside his bed. He shifted, sinking into the soft mattress and thick- but starchy- comforter and sheets. Jareth stayed sitting up for a very long time before turning off his own lamp. Cole could hear his sheets shuffling before coming to a still, and the room fell silent.

There was a sting in Cole’s chest, right between his ribs. It was a warm lump that burned, and twisted. He closed his eyes.

Hours had passed, and Cole was awake. Jareth- though dead silent- was asleep just feet away. Cole had been studying the day in his mind, and the prospects of time when it came to his mother’s depleting mental state that was soon to come. In his head, he wrote a check list of what he needed to sort out when home. Most importantly, a caretaker for his mother, whoever that may be.

Sometimes in the night, when Cole couldn’t sleep, he would rub a tender hand up and down his own chest, or his stomach or his waist if he was laying on his side. When he and Nigel laid together, naked, Nigel would stroke him like one would stroke a cat. Long thoughtful slides, warm and slow with the intention to soothe. His palm would glide over Cole’s smooth milky skin and sometimes he would use the pads of his fingers to dot his birthmarks. He would scratch Cole’s head and mutter, and Cole would whine quietly.

Cole pet himself now, mindlessly. Long circles on his chest through the silk of his shirt.

He then sat up, and began to rub his face with his palm.

Each soft stair step creaked under the heels of Cole’s feet as he stepped down to the kitchen. He held the railing in attempts to lift his own weight. The creeks turned to soft taps as he found chilled tile and made his way blindly across the kitchen. He pawed a hand out and found the fridge handle. He placed a hand on the back to steady it as he pulled it open, only wanting a white sliver of light so he could find the phone.

Quickly, and without hesitation, he began to dial each number into the box. Turning each digit to the bottom of the circle then letting it chug back into place. Then, he waited.

The phone rang. Then it rang again. He glanced at the kitchen clock and squinted, making out that the short hand was pointed at the one.

“Hello?” Answered a terribly groggy voice.

“Nigel- hello,” Cole answered.

“Hello, Cole,” Nigel said.

Nigel was breathing deep and slow through his nose into the cup of the phone, Cole could hear each slow exhale.

“I’ve woken you,” Cole said.

“Its nearly five to two in the mornin’,” Nigel said, “What could Cole be doing up at this hour?”

Cole leaned his hip against the counter, waiting for Nigel to continue.

“You miss my voice?” Nigel asked with a grin in his voice.

“Honestly,” Cole said, glancing back at the stairs in the dark. “I’m with my mother, Nigel.”

“Alright,” he said. Cole could hear Nigel shifting in bed, laying back down. “Can’t sleep? Why’s that?”

“I haven’t a clue,” Cole said.

Nigel chuckled on the other end of the line and Cole’s brows furrowed.

“Aww, Cole… Was the day busy?”

“No, not nearly. Jareth is under the weather I think.”

“Don’t tell me about Jareth now, tell me about Cole.”

“...It was fine, really. Only a few chores.”

“Tell me about them.”

“It’s terribly boring.”

“Cole~”

Cole smiled to himself, his stache lifting at the corners of his mouth. He sighed through his nose.

“I ehm… Well, mum is getting too old to manage the upkeep of the house, really. A few lights were dead- two in the kitchen.”

“Did you replace the bulbs?”

“Yes,”

“How many?”

“Oh- I haven’t any idea… Seven maybe,” Cole said. It was seven exactly.

“What else?”

Cole toyed with the phone wire as he explained the door hinges, the litter box, and the frames that he fussed with the whole day. Then the helping with dinner.

“What a good boy~”

Cole’s face grew heated, and he glanced at the steps again.

“It’s really not anything big, Nigel. I could have it all done in two hours.”

“You worked so hard today,” Nigel said, then Cole heard shifting again, “you must be exhausted.”

Cole didn’t respond.

“Are you exhausted?”

“Yes,” he muttered, spinning the cord around his finger.

“I bet, sweet boy. You work so hard, Cole.”

Cole nodded.

“Are you a hard worker?”

“Yes,” Cole responded. He then swallowed thickly.

“Mmh,” Nigel sighed. “You’re so helpful.”

Cole closed his eyes, listening to Nigel’s slow breathing  on the other line. He pictured himself lying besides him, his neck tacky in the spots where red lipstick marked him.

“You’re tired,” Cole said.

“I am,” Nigel responded.

“Right, you really should get to bed”

“I’d rather listen to you.”

Cole said nothing for a very long time. He could hear the ticking cat clock behind him and the steady hum from the fridge light. His eyes had gotten very warm, and his vision blurred.

“Wish I could see your face tonight, handsome.”

Cole smiled, but scoffed and glanced at the stairs again.

“How's it that we share my flat when you’re home?”

“For paperwork.”

“For paperwork, right.” Nigel chuckled.

“Hah,” Cole said. “Right, I’ll let you go now, Nigel.”

“Alright. Goodnight sweetheart.”

“Nigel,”

“Cole~”

“Goodnight.”

Cole kept the phone pressed against the shell of his ear. He waited, and the phone didn’t click. Rather, there was shuffling, then that slow whirr of breathing when Nigel slept. Neither man said anything, but Cole stood and listened.