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hennessysTitle: Pride
Rating: G.
Summary: Christopher is proud of his family.
Warnings: neglect
Notes: TENSE-CHANGING MINIATURE COLLECTION AHOY. I like these.
Christopher's father never once said that he was proud of him.
In fact, if he thought back, Thomas Hennessy never once said that he was proud of anything. He expressed pride a few times, mostly in Tommy-- slinging an arm around his shoulders, booming, "That's my boy," that sort of thing-- but the word itself never crossed his lips. And he was disappointed in Christopher, no matter what he did. That much was clear.
He almost asked his mother, at the funeral. Almost said was dad ever proud of me.
He didn't ask. He didn't want to know the answer.
--
Miranda's talking in an undertone, legalese that might as well be fast Spanish for all Christopher can understand it. But that's all right, she's talking to her mother, Isobel nodding and frowning thoughtfully, their dark heads together over a contract. Charlotte plays the piano, brisk and pretty, Jack sitting beside her on the bench and making notes on his latest script.
Christopher rises, squeezes Miranda's shoulder, drops a kiss on his wife's cheek. They both ignore him and he moves to his youngest, ruffling Jack's hair, kissing Charlotte's head.
"Good night," he says, and means, "I'm so proud of you."
--
He will write them letters, after he gets the news. They will be similar in tone but individual in meaning, all the things he didn't say enough.
One for Isobel, beautiful and brave, who overcame so much. One for so-strong Miranda, who worked so hard to make her parents proud. One for his sweet Charlotte, who only ever wanted to make the world a better place. One for clever Jack, who just wanted to be happy.
He will start them "I love you," and end them, "I'm so proud of you."
He will never be able to say that enough.
Rating: G.
Summary: Christopher is proud of his family.
Warnings: neglect
Notes: TENSE-CHANGING MINIATURE COLLECTION AHOY. I like these.
Christopher's father never once said that he was proud of him.
In fact, if he thought back, Thomas Hennessy never once said that he was proud of anything. He expressed pride a few times, mostly in Tommy-- slinging an arm around his shoulders, booming, "That's my boy," that sort of thing-- but the word itself never crossed his lips. And he was disappointed in Christopher, no matter what he did. That much was clear.
He almost asked his mother, at the funeral. Almost said was dad ever proud of me.
He didn't ask. He didn't want to know the answer.
--
Miranda's talking in an undertone, legalese that might as well be fast Spanish for all Christopher can understand it. But that's all right, she's talking to her mother, Isobel nodding and frowning thoughtfully, their dark heads together over a contract. Charlotte plays the piano, brisk and pretty, Jack sitting beside her on the bench and making notes on his latest script.
Christopher rises, squeezes Miranda's shoulder, drops a kiss on his wife's cheek. They both ignore him and he moves to his youngest, ruffling Jack's hair, kissing Charlotte's head.
"Good night," he says, and means, "I'm so proud of you."
--
He will write them letters, after he gets the news. They will be similar in tone but individual in meaning, all the things he didn't say enough.
One for Isobel, beautiful and brave, who overcame so much. One for so-strong Miranda, who worked so hard to make her parents proud. One for his sweet Charlotte, who only ever wanted to make the world a better place. One for clever Jack, who just wanted to be happy.
He will start them "I love you," and end them, "I'm so proud of you."
He will never be able to say that enough.
