Page 19 of Stoney Gazes for Helpful Gorgons

Jack snorts. "I'd hope not, anyway."

I take a deep breath and pull out the card. Tears start streaming down my face at Granny's handwriting on the outside and I touch a finger to it, trying not to feel overwhelmed by it. I look between the card and the present, not knowing which one to open first, or which one will be more emotionally devastating. I suppose it's going to depend on what's inside both.

I pick up the present first and start unwrapping it carefully. The last thing I want is to damage whatever is inside. The box beneath is pristine white and gives me no indication of what it might be. Jack doesn't say anything as he watches me go through this. I don't know if he's gone through something similar with his mum, but he certainly understands what's going through my head.

A half-laugh-half-sob escapes me as I lift the lid off the box, revealing a framed version of the gorgon painting Granny showed me when I was little. The same one that's copied in the museum bar. I lift it out of the box and hold it up. "It's perfect," I whisper.

"It's a gorgon," Jack says unnecessarily.

"It's the painting that inspired me to take art history," I say. "Granny showed it to me when I was little and told me that I could be as fierce as this gorgon and could do anything I set my mind to. She must have found a small print somewhere."

I turn it over and take the back off the frame. Disappointment fills me as I look at the empty back.

"What were you expecting?" he asks.

"I don't know. Something." I wipe away some of the tears, though they're replaced by new ones within moments. "I know that's dumb."

"It's not. I wish there'd been something from my mum. A letter, a voicemail, a message. Just something. But even though she knew she was dying, there was nothing. I don't know what I think I'd get from having something like that, but it's felt like something is missing because I don't have it."

"I'm sorry."

"Me too."

"We say that a lot to each other," I point out.

"Is it a surprise? We've both been through something horrible, and there really isn't anything else to say. I'm sorry you're hurting, you're sorry I'm hurting, but neither of us are in a position to actually help one another stop."

"Or maybe we are," I respond. "I mean, I think you're helping me."

"I'm glad you feel that way." He meets my gaze and there's a moment where everything feels quiet and settled. Like the pain isn't all there is for once.

I clear my throat and tear my gaze away, turning my attention to the card. I run my finger under the seal of the envelope and pull it out, immediately laughing at the snake joke on the front of the card.

Jack leans over my shoulder and chuckles as he reads it. "Gorgon humour?"

"We do love snake puns. Though I'm terrible at them. When Sage was getting together with her boyfriend, she said she was staying behind to clean and my reaction was to tell her that I was going out to find someone to snake my drain."

He groans. "How much had you drunk to think that was funny?"

"Enough that I thought it was hilarious, not enough that I didn't remember when Sage told me the next day."

"Ah, the perfect amount," he jokes.

"Apparently so." I open the card, clasping a hand over my mouth in order to avoid the sob.

Happy birthday, Rhea. Use the money to get a drink on me. Love you always, Granny.

There's no holding back the tears this time and Jack reaches out to pull me into his arms. I lean against his chest, grasping at his shirt and letting the sadness out. He doesn't say anything, just holds me and strokes a soothing hand down my back while there's nothing I can do to stop the torment within me.

"She's gone," I get out through my sobs, the words garbled and barely audible.

"I know," he murmurs, his voice cracking. I don't know if he's thinking about his mum, or if he just doesn't like seeing me upset, but I guess it doesn't matter. The warmth of his arms is more comforting than I expect it to be, and I'm glad he doesn't seem to want me to move.

Eventually, the sobs make way to silent tears, but I don't move, listening to the steady beat of his heart. I've never been this close to someone when I'm as vulnerable as this, partly because I'm always scared about what will happen if my glasses fall off, but it's nice.

More than nice. It's comfortable.

"Are you okay?" he asks.