Nate let out a breath he didn’t even know he’d been holding in. He couldn't really figure out why he had this slight bit of hope inside him that Simon might work at the bait shop. There was the possibility that it wouldn't even happen, but still. He could fantasize.

He chuckled, convincing himself that it was only so he could have a conversational partner. And, maybe, someone he could further complain to.

Buzz-buzz. He groaned, looking at the contact, remembering that he hadn't actually replied to his mother the time she texted him.

Hey, sweetie. I know you're mad, but please, I need to talk to you. I'm so, so sorry. Please.

He rolled his eyes and buried his face in his knees, hugging them close. Then came the usual debate. Did he really want to start something? Lie? Act like everything was fine and that it always had been? It wasn't like anything he said would be taken into consideration. It never was. He could deliver a million speeches and none of them would reach her - sober or not.

He exhaled a long drawn-out sigh and peered down at his phone.

Hi. How are you? Was all he could draft. His thumbs hovered over the keys for something a little more personal, but there was nothing more to say.

Within seconds she replied, Hi! Oh, I'm good! It's been a really good thing for me here. I haven't had anything to drink in weeks! I'm so happy to hear from you!

This was presumably genuine. She probably was actually happy. So then why did it feel so fake?

His phone buzzed again, when are you coming so I can see you? I understand if you don't want to, but I'd love to see you.

He lowered the phone to his side. Gazing out onto the lake directly at the island she ditched him at. Well, should he go see her? Carter would probably drive him. Or he could find a bus route. If he was being honest with himself, she'd never actually gone this far. With getting help, anyway.

Do I just support her? - He pondered. Even if he did, would that yield results?

Another buzz.

Do you hate me?

His chest tightened. He sat up and rolled his head back, squeezing his eyes shut. In a manner of speaking, he certainly did. There was probably no denying that he was utterly furious with her.

There was a time when she was kind and always there for him - when his father was alive - these memories were ones that he desperately clung to. When he was younger, if someone told him there would come a time when he held so much resentment towards her, he'd of thought them a bit nuts. Actually having to face that reality, and knowing that she understood that, too, only broke his heart.

The family he loved was gone. And at this rate, he would likely never be a part of it again.

"Are you okay?" Nate flinched and spun around to face Simon, who was still holding onto his sketchbook, standing above him on the rocks. "Why are you crying?"

"What?" He rubbed his eyes, but they were dry. "Idiot… don't lie to me like that."

Shyly, Simon took a seat beside him. "Seriously, are you doing alright?"

"Why?"

"You… really did look like you were going to cry."

Nate held his tongue. Then again, there really wasn't a reason to. If there was anyone, at all, who would understand the pain he was going through it would be Simon.

He breathed. "Yeah… actually, my mom just sent me a text." He turned to Simon so the boy could understand and held out his phone.

"Oh." He deadpanned. - Which was essentially the same reaction Nate had when he received the message. "What did she say?"

"That she wants to see me."

Simon straightened up. "Are you… going to?"

He shrugged. "She… well, we didn't exactly leave off on the best foot."

"What does that mean?"

"She, uh…" Nate dug his nails into his wrist as a nostalgic panic crawled back. "She tried to… kill herself in front of me…"