Hope from the Ocean: 11

"Bea, you must have had a wonderful time at Hope Weekend," Ray said.  It was still snowing, and the tiny flakes were sticking to the windows in places, melting and sliding down in others.

She nodded, and was drawing.  He asked, "What are you working on?"

She turned the pad toward him.  It was nothing like what he expected; she was drawing a dark room, with a single lightbulb overhead, which he immediately recognized.  He noticed that she had drawn a closet, ajar, with shackles coming from the ceiling.  She let him peruse the artwork, then matter-of-factly turned it back to herself.  

He said, "You're thinking about time in the past.  With Peter."

She nodded and continued to draw.

"Has this been on your mind a lot?"

She nodded again, disinterested in his presence.

Ray finally, sat back in his chair, "Would you like to meet another time, Bea?  It seems like you're very interested in your drawing today and not in communicating with me."

She turned a new page in her pad, and moved her chair toward his desk.  Turning the pad, he read, I'm sorry.

He smiled at her.  "That's okay.  Maybe you wanted to draw today instead of talk."

She shook her head no, and wrote.  Even if I don't want to talk, I should, because it helps me.  Right?

"That sounds right," Ray said.

I think of Peter sometimes.  I think of him in dreams the most.  Sometimes when I am awake.  When I went to Hope Weekend, I saw Todd.  He was happy.  I met Sam.  He's precious.  Blair was there, she is pregnant.  Some man said he adopted Todd.  I was wondering about that.

"That's Timothy.  He is a friend of Todd and Blair.  He helped find Todd one of the times he was missing."

Does he love Todd?  Because Peter adopted Todd.  But Peter hurt Todd, so badly.  

"He does.  And Todd is an adult, now, Bea.  He's a man.  It wouldn't be the same now.  He can defend himself."

I was his mother.  I was supposed to protect him.  I still wonder why it all happened.  I should have protected him.  I should have died protecting him.  That is what Blair would do.

"Blair?  What made you think of Blair?"

I can read.  When we go to the library on library day, I read.  I looked on the box, they call it a computer.  I looked on there, and I saw.  I saw many things. No one has told me things but the box.  Blair protected her baby.  She fought to save him.  Todd traded his life for the baby.  The little baby, Ray.  She wouldn't let anyone hurt him.  I was wrong.

She looked to the floor.  Ray said, "You were hurt, too, Bea.  You were beaten, you were hurt many ways.  You were not well, in your mind.  Peter abused you, too."

She shook her head, vehemently.  

"That's what happened, and you know this.  You went through so many things, your mind did different things to get away from it.  Sometimes, you went inside yourself.  Sometimes, you tried to fight.  You're not to blame.  Todd would say the same thing."

She looked up to Ray with tears in her eyes.  He noticed, and commented to himself, that at least she wasn't rocking, or going catatonic.  He said, "Todd would tell you it was not your fault."

He was my baby.

"Yes, he was.  And now, he's a man.  He's a fine man, isn't he?"

She began to rock.  

"That's enough for today, Bea, if you don't want to talk anymore.  Let's go back to your room now, and we'll finish another time."  He was already at her side, and lifted her by the elbow and lead her into the hallway.  Two orderlies flanked her, and assisted her in getting back to her room.  

He watched her go, and went back to his desk to make notes on her case.  "Just how much did you find out, Bea, about our boy, Todd?"

***

"Todd, is that you?"  Blair said from the kitchen.

He threw his keys on the table by the door and said, "Yep."

As he stepped into the foyer, Mixie, who was sitting quietly by the fireplace, ran to him and sniffed his shoes.  He bent down.  "Hi, Mixie.  You any less confused?"  He took the dog's face in his hand and looked into his eyes.  "Nope.  Nothing in there but us pebbles."

She walked to the outskirts of the kitchen, and wiped her hands on a dishcloth.  "Stop, now, he's a good boy."

"No accounting for brains," Todd said, swooping her into his arms.

"Sam's excited.  He's decided to be an artist now and wants to learn to draw.  Aside from being a superhero."

"Hmf, that's Sam, he's a good kid."

"Jack's upstairs.  He came home with news.  He wanted to be honest with me and tell me he cut class today."

"Why, did he say?"  Todd said, walking into the kitchen.  He took a piece of carrot from the salad bowl.  

"Jenna.  She was not doing well.  He skipped class to be with her."

"Sounds like they needed a break."

"Yeah, but how long can he do this?  It will start affecting his grades.  He's a junior.  You know how important this is."

"I guess, but Jenna is important, too."

"He said she's not sleeping.  Not dealing with her mother's death well."   Blair said.  He stopped, remembering his own bouts with sleeplessness.  He marveled that for the most part, they were a thing of the past.

"We can't expect that to be easy," he said.

"No," she said.  "Let's call the kids for dinner."

Todd went to the base of the stairs, "Kids?  Dinner."

He went back to the kitchen, and sat at the island.  He opened a copy of The Sun, and leafed through it.  In a small article at the bottom of the third page, Todd spotted a familiar photo.  "What the Hell?"

"What is it?"

"Look for yourself."

At that moment, Jack and Sam bounded into the kitchen, and Todd put his copy of The Sun aside.  Sam jumped onto his lap.  "Dad!  I am learning how to draw!  Do you think Grandma Bitsy can teach me?"

"Sure, why not?"

"I like her.  Why can't she talk, Dad?"

"She got hurt once," Blair interjected. 

"Oh.  Is she okay now?"

"Pretty okay,"  Todd said.  "Did you like her drawings?"

"Yes.  She made me a Spiderman one."

"I know.  We're opening an art gallery so she can show more of her art, and we can have Jenna's, too."  Blair said.

"That's cool.  Maybe mine, someday."

"Maybe," Todd said, putting Sam into his own chair.  Jack was quiet.  "Hey, you all right over there?"

"Yeah, I'm okay."

"You skipped class today?"

"Yeah."

"Jenna all right?"

"No."  

Jack was down to one-word answers, and Todd realized what that meant.  "We'll talk about this later, okay?"  he said to his son.

Jack said, "Okay."

The dinner went along as usual.  Jack was a great deal more reticent, Sam was a chatterbox full of questions, and Little Ray cooed and threw a few pieces of food around.  Todd and Blair talked of Hope Weekend and of The Diamond Gallery opening they were planning, and Todd filled the family in on Dorian's decor.  He reminded himself to let Blair in on the conversation he had with Dorian as well.  

Clearing the dishes, Jack stood with his back to them as they went over Sam's homework and his new spelling stickers.  Finally, Blair said, "Sam, not too long before bed.  Go on upstairs and wash up and get into your pajamas so you can finish your homework and watch your show."

"Okay, Mom!"  he said, and ran off.  His little feet, and the noise of a stumble, echoed off the staircase.  Then all was quiet.

Jack turned and said, "I'll go bring Ray upstairs and change him for bed."

"Uh, wait a second," Todd said, "It's nice you want to help out, but we have some talking to do."

"Dad, I know I was wrong, I just couldn't leave her.  Not like that."

Todd was without words.  Blair said, "Your education and your future are important, too.  She'd understand that."

"I'm not going to make it an all-the-time thing.  She was . . . she was sleeping on my shoulder.  And she hasn't been sleeping well.  I just thought that it was better to let her rest."

Todd eyed Blair, and said, "Well, as long as it's not too often.  Skipping class can't help grades or your record, right?"

"Yeah.  I know.  I'll just bring her to the nurse next time, or to guidance.  It was just . . . it was too much, Dad.  She just needed that time."

"Don't the teachers or kids notice when you're missing?"  Blair asked.

"We have a special place to be quiet.  We eat lunch together there, it's a back hallway near the courtyard.  No one goes there often.  Near the art room.  When it's not passing time, it's silent."

Todd slightly smirked to himself, "Well, looks like you know the deal, but don't get into a habit of missing too much class.  It's not good for either of you."

"I won't.  Can I take Ray up now?"

"He already had his bath, so go ahead,"  Blair said, washing his little hands off, and getting the rest of the food off his face.  He smiled.

Jack picked his little brother up out of the highchair, and said, "Come on, Big Guy.  Time for some pajamas and a few tosses in the air," and headed up the stairs.

Todd said, "Look at this," and took The Sun off the counter again.  

Blair went behind him and looked over his shoulder.  "It's Patrick.  My God.  What is it?"

Todd looked up at her.  "He's gone missing."

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