Saddle Tramp (A Santana x Male!OC Story)

Put Your Head On My Shoulder (Chapter 9)

"Ah, now I don't hardly know her, but I think I could love her. Crimson and clover" Crimson and Clover by Joan Jett

~

Two days after their early morning reading session, Marty received a letter. He'd gotten other mail that day, so it wasn't until he was at the kitchen table sorting through what he'd gotten, when he saw it. Santana heard the sound of Marty gasp from his spot on the couch, and turned to look at the man. He didn't say anything, instead choosing to watch Marty open the envelope with shaking hands and read the letter.

Only to rip it to shreds a few minutes later, throwing the pieces on the table before marching out the door. It slammed shut behind him, and Santana was left alone, and confused on the couch.

Walking up to the table, he was easily able to piece the letter back together in about a minute. Actually dissecting everything the letter said, revealed why Marty was so upset.

"Martin,

We haven't talked since you decided to run away, which was a very childish move in my opinion, but anyway that's not what I wanted to tell you. I'm writing to you because I'm dying Martin. I'll never say I ever understood you, even though I did my best to raise you, you just ended up coming out, different. I'm inclined to say you inherited more from your father's side than mine. In any case, while we may not have always gotten along, and you may have done things to hurt me, I still love you.

Your first thought upon seeing this letter was probably how I managed to find you. Well, it was rather simple, your sister Janet, works as a secretary up in New York for a man by the name of Robert Speedwagon. Imagine her surprise when she sees her little brother, who she hasn't heard from in years, on file as a new employee. Apparently the company built you a house. Congratulations, for earning a house by doing, whatever it is you do. Most people slave away all their lives for something like that.

The address was attached to your file, and dear Janet thought this was information a mother should know. I don't know what made you feel like running away, but I'm asking you to come back. I don't know how much time I have left, and I want all my children to be there for me when I go.
It's what your father wanted as well, but I'm sure you know why that didn't happen better than I do. I truly do hope I'll get to see you, who knows maybe you found a nice girl and will settle down soon. I might even get to see some grandkids, though that may just be a pipedream.

I know you probably still blame us for a lot of your problems in life, a mother always knows her children best. But you really shouldn't, you can't hate me forever. What happened when you were 15 was a result of your own, poor decisions, and I can't be the sole reason for them. Don't blame others for your failings, it will lead to a miserable life.

Hope to see you soon,
Your Mother,
-Valerie Robin"

A lot of the statements seemed rather malicious, and it contrasted heavily with Santana's understanding of what mothers were supposed to act like. Considering the letter said she wanted to try and make amends, she really seemed to talk about herself a lot. The letter and Marty's reaction to it, seemed to point at something going on in Marty's childhood that made him run away from home.

But why then, did the woman, Valerie, say it was only because of a child's bad decision making skills? Marty didn't appear to be the kind of human that would deny making a mistake, especially of this magnitude. Was he actually, and Santana had just been given a false perception of him?

He brushed that thought aside. Everything he'd seen of Marty so far, painted the exact opposite picture. If anything, the man apologized too much, for things that weren't even his fault. Santana wondered what Marty ran off to do, he'd seemed so furious. It made him wonder on what had happened to Marty as a child, what caused him to run away?

Marty came back an hour later, looking disheveled. He wasn't wearing his hat, his hair was a mess, face flushed and puffy, with eyes unfocused and glassy. He flopped down onto the opposite side of the couch. Santana had gravitated back toward it when waiting for Marty's return.

He sat hunched over, arms on his knees. His face was blank, eyes staring at a point on the coffee table like it held something incredibly interesting. Marty looked very, small from this view. His curled in form only a little bit better than if he was in the fetal position.

Scooting closer to the man, he picked up the book on the table, and began to read. His voice was deep and rough, and he still spoke somewhat slowly, but it seemed to do the trick. As he read he watched from the corner of his eye, while Marty closed his own, listening peacefully.

"He was not homesick. The Sunland was very dim and distant, and such memories had no power over him. Far more potent were the memories of his heredity that gave things he had never seen before a seeming familiarity; the instincts (which were but the memories of his ancestors become habits) which had lapsed in later days, and still later, in him, quickened and became alive again."

They sat like that for a while, Santana reading to Marty. After a time, the man rest his head on Santana's shoulder, eyes still closed, he missed the slight smile on the pillarman's face at the action. Eventually, Marty spoke, his voice rough and watery, barely above a whisper.

"Thank you."

Santana didn't have to feel the slight bit of wetness on his shoulder, to know the reason Marty's voice cracked on the last word.