+18 eps. 12-16 - Gillian and Brock face huge changes in their lives after she leaves the PD and he moves back to DC. But no matter what, looks like they just can't help coming across each other.
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After the fifth call for dinner, Gillian charged up the stairs, ready to drag Connor down by his ear if she had to—assuming his ear would resist the pull.
She pushed his door wide open, already scolding him. "Connor! I've called you a thousand times!"
Her son raised a hand, asking for a moment, and finished typing something. Then he removed his earphones, closed the computer lid and stood up, a thoughtful frown on his face.
"Didn't you hear me?"
"Sorry, I was chatting and—"
"Who knew! Come down already! Dinner must be cold by now!"
She spun around, snorting, and headed down. Connor rolled his eyes, following.
They sat to eat without a word, and Connor tried the diplomatic praise about the food. Gillian shot a death glare at him. So he tilted his head, smiled and fluttered his eyelids. She couldn't help a scoff.
"You silly!" she grunted. "And what was with that chat that got you so hooked? Mike designed a robot to flush his toilet?"
Connor shook his head, thoughtful again. "Nah. It was an online friend. She's having a hard time—"
"She?"
"Yes, mother o'mine. Believe it or not, your son is able to trade five words with somebody of the opposite gender."
"You're feeling smart this weekend, huh? First you ask for a beer, now this."
"Bob said it's in my gens."
"Moving on. You were saying? This girl is having a hard time..."
Connor had just filled his mouth, so he nodded, chewing, and took a moment to swallow. "Her dad is seeing someone she doesn't like."
"Oh, Elektra complex."
"What?"
"Oedipus complex but the other way around. Daughter in love with father." Tell me about it, I used to be an expert.
Connor frowned, considering, then shook his head. "Nah. She wants her dad to have a girlfriend, only not this one."
"She has a better candidate in mind? She should let her father be. Bet he's grown enough to pick his own chicks."
"It's not like that. She doesn't mean to tell her dad who he should date, but she's convinced this woman is not right for him."
Gillian narrowed her eyes, skeptic. "That's what we all say. We want our parents to be happy with somebody, but when that somebody comes along, it's never the right one in our eyes."
The boy considered her words and shook his head again. "Nah, not the case. The thing is that this woman is the mother of one of her friends, and she's known her for years, and she says she's a total bitch. And that she's the opposite of her dad's last wife."
"She likes her dad's ex best?"
"He didn't divorce his second wife. She passed."
"Ouch. So?"
"Well, my friend just can't understand how her dad can be with this—and I'm quoting here—shallow, selfish, control-freak bitch."
Gillian raised her eyebrows. She loved having those moments with Connor, but that particular subject had a big sign reading, 'handle with care'. Knowing her son, she could tell that whatever he concluded after their conversation, he'd share with his friend as soon as he was back to his room.
"Okay, I'm gonna need some background here."
Connor flashed a mocking smile. "You wanna profile my friend's dad?"
"Gosh, no. Let me see. The guy's a widow. Recent widow?"
"A few years now."
"Okay. Has he dated other women after his wife died? Or this is the first time?"
"First time."
"That your friend knows of."
"Pretty sure she'd know if there were others."
Gillian wasn't about to dig into that and risk a backfire questioning about her own private life.
"My friend is not mad he's seeing somebody," explained Connor. "She's mad it's this woman. Because other than her looks, there's nothing she can think of that can attract her dad."
"Maybe there's nothing more, Connor. Dating somebody is not always about love. Did he have a happy marriage with his late wife, in your friend's eyes?"
"A fairytale come true."
"Then that's it, son."
The boy frowned, demanding elaboration.
Gillian shrugged. "If he really loved his wife, and she died, chances are he won't be able to love anybody ever again. You see, son, when you get hurt, you grow protective of the scar. You don't want the wound reopen. Losing the one you love is a hard blow to take in."
Connor refilled his plate as he listened to her with all his attention.
"But it doesn't mean that this guy has to become a monk. Maybe he doesn't want to get seriously involved ever again, because he's afraid of falling in love and losing his loved one again. Sounds pretty logic, don't you think?"
The boy nodded, devouring rather than eating.
"But he has needs, anyway. I mean, he's human, right? It's completely normal if he wants to socialize, and be with somebody, not be a bitter loner. We all need some company and affection, right?"
Connor nodded again, his mouth full.
"Now try this guy's shoes for a moment, son. You're hurt, you lost somebody you loved deeply. But you don't wanna be alone. And at the same time you don't wanna fall for anybody, ever again, because you're afraid of losing them. So what kind of person would you seek, to have some company without getting emotionally involved?"
Connor flashed an understanding smile. "Somebody opposite to what would make me fall in love."
Gillian smiled back. Sometimes she wondered if she pushed Connor with that kind of plain, open talk. And then she realized he was almost eighteen, and it was about time to stop seeing him like a baby.
"So you think that's the case," he said.
"How would I know? I'm just showing you a possible scenario with what little information you give me."
When they were done eating, Connor cleared the table and took everything to the kitchen, where Gillian was doing the dishes.
"I think I'm telling my friend what you said. It may help her," he said. "She's so down, being angry at her dad."
"Sure. But careful, son. I can be completely wrong. I don't know the guy or the situation at all."
"Oh, yeah, you do. The friend I'm talking about is Andrea Brockner."
The plate, soaked in dish soap, slid between Gillian's fingers, and only at the last second she was able to catch it and keep it in one piece. She also managed to keep her jaw from hitting the sink. She spun around, but her death glare only hit the air, because Connor was already trotting up the stairs.
She resumed her chore, scowling and snorting. Had she just helped clear the stupid bitter man's way with his daughter, so he wouldn't have any trouble bedding some random woman? She snorted again, hating the heat that lashed her face. Well, good for him. Maybe that control freak would cool his mood a little. That would be a major contribution to humanity, if people around him weren't forced to bear his bitter-ass scowl the whole damn time.
