Chapter 30: Polaroid

As the late afternoon sun painted the skies in a beautiful hue of soft gold, Clark peeked through the blinds for the umpteenth time today.

Upon checking, still with Niall nowhere to be seen, he reluctantly leaned back and kept reading a farming magazine.

Through the open doors of the kitchen, Claire who had an apron tied around her waist, watched him restlessly shift on the sofa for the briefest of moments, her head shaking slightly in amusement.

’Big softie,’ she inwardly remarked, a light smile tugging on her lips.

Two days ago, Niall had informed his parents that he’d be coming home for the weekend.

And about two hours ago, he had called to inform them that he’d boarded an uber and would be home soon.

By estimation, he should’ve gotten home roughly an hour ago, all things considered. However, since that hadn’t seemed to be the case, Clark was evidently a tad bit worried.

Claire on the other hand, was pretty relaxed for the most part.

Afterall, she was of unshakable belief that her son was perfectly fine and probably just got caught up in a nasty traffic or something.

"Claire, I don’t think the pulp’s gonna be enough," Camille’s voice reached her.

Turning to face the young lady whom was dressed in a long floral dress, her curly red-hair tied into a ponytail and an apron tied around her waist, Claire walked over and confirmed;

"Yeah. You’re right, dear."

Then, she requested of her husband;

"Cowboy, can you please grab me two bunch of grapes from the orchard?"

"Sure, sweetie." Clark replied, folding the paper as he got off the sofa.

Making his way out the door though, he soon arrived at the orchard and plucked the grapes as his wife had requested.

Not that it stopped him from popping a few into his mouth.

Just as he made his way out of the orchard, he caught the figure of his son alighting from his Uber and walking up the gravel pathway.

Dressed in a simple white t-shirt, a brown leather jacket, sleek dark-blue jeans, and charcoal-black combat boots, he carried a travelling bag in one hand and a guitar case strapped to his back.

Waving over to his dad who was sighing in relief, Niall ecstatically greeted;

"Hi Pa!"

"Welcome home, son!" he reciprocated with a warm smile.

Then, after Niall had reached him, he inquired;

"What took you so long?"

To that, Niall gestured with a thumb to his back;

"This guy, right here. Had my uber stop by a pawn shop so I could get it,"

"Didn’t think I’d take so long though." he thoughtfully admitted.

"That’s certainly interesting," Clark gave it a brief look-over and then asked, a knowing glint in his eyes;

"You haggled for it, didn’t you?"

Niall grinned in acknowledgement as he and his father made their way into the house;

"Buzzard tried to scam me. Said it was a thousand bucks."

"And you bought it for?" Clark inquired, already expectant.

"Three hundred," Niall shamelessly declared.

"You’re scarier than your Ma, you know that?" Clark laughed to which Niall grinned pridefully and declared;

"What can I say? I learnt from the best."

Walking into the cozy farmhouse upon saying that, the first person Niall laid his eyes upon, was Camille.

Without missing a bit, he called her ass out whilst grinning from ear to ear;

"You shameless businesswoman. What are you doing here?"

"Learning your mum’s classic grape pie recipe. My nana loves ’em." the lady proudly stated and then retrieved the grapes from Clark’s hands;

"Thanks, Mr. Parker."

"Don’t mention it."

Placing his bag and the guitar case on the floorboards right next to the couch though, Niall followed her into the kitchen to greet his mother.

"Hey, Ma. You look as timelessly beautiful as ever,"

"And you look more dashing day by day," she reciprocated with a side hug, her other hand stirring the chicken broth.

"How was the journey?" she thoughtfully inquired.

"Smooth. Though I did drop by a pawn shop to terrorize a scheming kite."

"He haggled from a thousand bucks to three hundred," Clark expatiated, his voice carrying from across the room as he settled into the sofa to continue reading his magazine.

"That’s my boy." Claire looked notably proud to hear that info.

Camille on the other hand, amusedly remarked under her breath;

"Sly devil,"

Without giving her the avenue to escape, Niall leaned on the counter adjacent from her, his head tilted slightly and a knavish smile touching his lips;

"Go on, I’m listening,"

"Slick devil," Camille continued.

"I’ll take it,"

"Slippery devil," she added.

"Your vocabulary of S’ are beginning to amuse me," Niall grinned.

"Sucks to be you. Those are the only three I know." the lady let out an amused laugh, and then gestured with a pointed finger;

"Now out. I need to prepare the pulp."

To that, Niall glanced over to the bowl of grapes, walked up to her, picked one, popped it into his mouth and then made his way out of the kitchen with a jovial smile.

Claire on the other hand whom had witnessed their interaction, turned her head over to Camille, a Chesire grin on her lips.

The lady on the other hand, dismissively rolled her eyes at the middle-aged woman’s smugness.

About an hour and half later, all four gathered around their dining table, the sumptuous smell of home-cooked dishes appetizing.

Dining in shared mirth, they simply engaged in mundane conversations, one that ultimately resulted in Camille requesting of Claire to see Niall’s baby pics after she’d made mention of it.

And as one would expect of a mother who wouldn’t think twice before embarrassing their child, no sooner were they done dining, she waltzed into the study and retrieved the box she’d kept them all in.

As the red-haired lady laughed at the hilarity of some of the pics though, one his parents seemed equally amused by despite it being the umpteenth time they’d seen it, Niall fared no better.

That said, as they all kept rummaging through the pictures, Niall soon pulled out one that had been taken using a Polaroid his dad had gifted him on his twelfth birthday.

In the picture, about a half of Niall’s grinning face had barely peeked out from the frame, his parents seemingly dancing to a song on the radio, the mirth on their features frozen in time.

It was a beautiful picture, no doubt about it.

However, the more Niall kept staring at it, the more something seemed to tug on his heart.

That particular feeling, that immense familial love... it was an emotion Niall had experienced so many times over the course of his younger years.

Yet, at the current moment, he was so enamored by it once more, so much that he hadn’t realized when he’d slipped into a trance of sorts.

It was only after his Pa had tapped on his shoulders for the fifth time that he’d realized that everyone had turned their attention to him, wondering if he was okay.

Only after assuring them that he was simply reminiscing on the events that had led up to the picture did they all nod in shared understanding.

But for Niall... that emotion kept burning immensely, long after they’d done the dishes, long after they’d escorted Camille back to her ranch, long after they’d come back home, long after the day had ended.

And because Niall knew an emotion like this probably wouldn’t hang around for long, he felt an unfathomable need to keep it and freeze it in time, much like the Polaroid had.

As a result, instead of simply going to bed like his parents had, he had instead pulled out a lyric sheet from his bag and had begun writing a song.

By the time morning came and his parents had woken up, both waiting on the water to boil so they could brew the ginger-tea they habitually drank before their day actually began, the sound of an acoustic tune, reached their ears.

At first it sounded off, like the player was shedding off his rustiness.

Then, in the next few minutes to come, the tune had evolved considerably, becoming soft and distinctly melodic.

Yet, there was something particularly fragile yet so very comforting about it.

And as they raised their slowly widening eyes to locate its source, they watched as Niall appeared at the top of the stairs whilst strumming the guitar, words softly coming out of his lips;

Loving’s a gift,

Loving’s a gift, you know,

Wrapped up in layers of treasured memories,

Didn’t know then,

Now I’ve known for a while,

That those little moments go by so fast...

Hearing those very first verses, Claire couldn’t help but feel her eyes brimming with tears.

Slowly, she lowered into the chair next to Clark whom was still in evident bewilderment at his son’s seemingly new talent.

Niall on the other hand, kept singing as he moved to the pre-chorus;

That’s why we caught it all in a Polaroid,

To make these mementos for ourselves,

Where our eyes are ever smiling,

And the colors chose to stay,

In a moment that’s all our own...

Then, with a brief pause, Niall immediately sang the chorus, the register in his voice climbing higher to a light, almost airy falsetto.

So we can keep us,

Inside the corners of a worn-out frame,

Faded edges but it feels the same,

Bathed in that blissful warmth,

Hold on to it close.

At this point, Clark had long forgotten his bewilderment, his eyes reddening with teary warmth as Niall arrived at the foot of the stairs, strumming a bit faster as he sang the second verse;

Lovin’ runs deep,

Lovin’ runs deep, you know,

Through the cracks that we don’t show,

And when we’re scared of being gone,

It keeps holding us close,

Yeah, it keeps us together somehow,

In a snapshot that we didn’t plan...

As his parents grasped onto each other’s palm tightly, Claire covering half of her face in blissful joy with her other hand, Niall sang the slightly modified pre-chorus once more;

And now it’s caught in that Polaroid,

We’ve made a memento for ourselves,

Where our eyes are ever smiling,

And the colors chose to stay,

In a moment that’s all our own...

Walking up to them, he followed up with a much longer chorus;

So we can keep us,

Inside the corners of a worn-out frame,

Faded edges but it feels the same,

Bathed in that blissful warmth...

And if time leaves,

If it steals all the days we’ve ever known,

We’ll still keep living in that afterglow,

Like it’s at the break of dawn,

So hold on to it close,

Then, arriving before both of them, his cool-gray irises displaying the most intense feelings of familial warmth he had ever felt in his life, he sang the song’s outro without strumming the guitar;

And when I’m older,

I will hold onto it like a lifeline,

Keep every bit of it from creasing,

As I whisper to myself,

"I’m holding on to you close."

Staring at his parents sniffling after he was done, ignoring the familiar tingle washing over him as he watched them try to gather themselves, Niall then greeted with the warmest of smiles;

"Morning, Pa. Morning, Ma."

That, for his parents, was the final blow.

Unable to gather themselves, they simply pulled him into the warmest of hugs as happy tears continuously streamed down the length of their beautiful faces.

That was the only answer they could offer their son at the moment.

And for Niall... that was more than enough.

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/Caer07