Failings of the Fathers: 3

It was a short dream, but regardless of the length, it made him open his eyes and stare at the ceiling, before he realized his tank was wet with sweat.  Peter was in it.  Wasn't he?  Yes, he was.  He was at the foot of the bed, again, leering.  When Todd had sat up, in the dream, and spoke, "What do you want from me?" he had received a simple answer:  Everything.  I want to make sure you have nothing left.

He could still hear those words and Peter's voice, as if he had spoken to him yesterday.  

It was a dream.  

He repeated his mantra to himself.  I have a wife, her name is Blair.  She's right next to me, carrying . . . carrying our baby girl.  He couldn't go on.  He sat up, and looked at her.  She was asleep, one hand on her belly, the other on the pillow next to her head.  He could hear her breathing, so he knew she was all right.  Of course, she's all right, she's asleep, you're all safe.  You're home.  It was a dream, there's no Peter.  You're just . . . tired.  A lot has happened.  The house in Chicago, Momma.  The stuff in Ireland and in Switzerland.  Blair, falling today.

A different voice: Give yourself a break, Todd.  Coach.  Coach, who had pulled him off Peter when he was squeezing his neck.  The night . . . Todd had attacked his father.  Determined to kill him, he had gotten him to the ground and sat over him, strangling him with his bare hands.  The man's face was turning a light shade purple before he finally let go.  He had spit when he snarled out what he'd wanted to say.  How do you like it, huh?  How do you like being under someone, helpless?  If Coach hadn't shown up . . .

He turned toward her.  He watched her, hoping she'd open her eyes, and know.  She slept soundly, not moving, only breathing.  Aw, Blair, he was here, in my head.  He's out to hurt us . . . No.  He's not ALIVE.  He's just in your mind.  

He's saying that your madness will take your life away.

He fell back softly on the pillows again.  

He can't get the boys.  Or Starr.  He's not living.  The only way he could do that, is through me, if he takes me from them because my mind snaps, and I leave them, and Blair.  That's what this means.  He's breaking me from the inside.  He's dead, and he's still hurting me, still fucking with me.  Will I let him?  He's dead.  

He opened his eyes, and looked at Blair again.  She had moved, slightly, and her hair was cascading over one side of her face.  He studied her breathing, how her breasts rose and fell, and one hand always stayed on the baby's place.  The baby that was a miracle.  He closed his eyes.  

Yeah.  That's what I should think about.  This baby is a miracle.  No one thought we could get pregnant again, the odds were against it.  No one believed it, even us.  And there she is, inside Blair, a new life growing inside this woman that I . . .

He opened his eyes and saw her reaching out.  "I'm here, come here, Todd," she said, enfolding him.  She heard him sigh, audibly, and his voice rasped a little.  She reassured, "It's okay."

He melted into her.  He didn't want to think or talk.  He wished she could hold him that way forever, and make it all go away.  He hoped she wouldn't ask him anything.

She didn't.  She held him, and petted and caressed him.  She said, finally, "You've got to come to a resting place, Todd.  It's been so much.  You need to rest.  Mentally.  You've barely grieved the loss of your childhood, or your mother's abuse, and your own.  How do you expect to just go on, like nothing happened?  And eight years of torment, and since you've been back, one thing after another.  Life will be okay, soon, but you can't rush it."  She waited.  "You don't have to say anything, just let me hold you."

God, how does she always know?

He continued to let her touch him, with compassion in her fingers, and stroke away his tension.  He concentrated on the feel of her fingers in his hair, against his cheek and ears, and across his shoulders, and pleaded with himself for sleep.  She felt this, the tightness in his body, and she worked at relaxing him.  "Don't worry, My Love, just rest."

He closed his eyes, and put his hand on her middle.  He felt Jewel move against his hand, and it was the crown of her head this time, against his palm, so tiny but so alive.  And for some reason, unknown to him, he broke down.  Blair attempted to bring him solace by softly shushing him, repeating the words she thought he needed to hear, but he couldn't hear them, not where it counted.  Her heart felt as if it split, hearing him try and stifle himself against her shoulder.  "Shhhh."

He couldn't.

"Why?" she asked.  "Why, Todd?"  She almost was not expecting an answer, and continued to hold him.  They stayed as they were for a very long time, her, trying to smooth his despair with her hands.

Finally, he spoke.  "Every time I think I'm okay . . ."

"You are getting there.  It hasn't been all that long that you've even been home."  She paused, "What happened just then?"

"I felt. . .  my little girl . . .  Jewel's head, and I just . . . I lost it."

"Todd, did you . . . was there another dream?"

He nodded, and went onto his back.  She crept against him and put her head in her place.  Her fingers were tracing circles on his chest.  "You don't want to tell me?"

"Yeah, there was another dream."

"Peter?"

"Yep."

"I'm going to have to tell that asshole off, you do realize this?"

His tone changed.  "Please.  Maybe he'll go away, permanently."

"He will.  He will, Todd."

"He . . . says he wants the boys.  Blair, Ray is three. . ."

"Stop, now.  It's a dream.  The things you're afraid to lose."

It was very quiet.  The fireplace was crackling, and needed wood.  He said, "Am I crazy?"

She got up, and got a log to put into the fireplace.  "No, My Love, you're not crazy."

He got up and went to her, and put his arms around her from the back.  "Thank you."

"For what?"

"Just being there, when I fall apart."

"As long as you need me."

"What do you need, Mrs. Manning?"

"Just you, the kids.  This house.  A healthy baby.  A life for us."

"Okay.  That can be arranged."

"You already did."

"I want it to stay like that.  I'm . . . always scared it will end."

She turned to him, "No, it won't end.  It won't, as long as we're both living.  You know that.  Our love will outlive everyone."

He kissed her, and brought her to him.  She said, "Don't feel guilty, about needing me to lean on.  You were my rock Todd, when the baby died.  And when I found out I couldn't have another baby, or we thought.  And when we almost lost Jack, in Greece, and just near Christmas with the drinking.  And what about when we almost lost Sam?  And I thought I was going to lose Jewel?  You don't have the corner on needing me, you know.  I need you, too."  

"Look at us.  What do you think?  Pathetic?"

She sat on the sofa.  "Us?  Pathetic?"  she smiled up at him.

He sat beside her.  "I don't know, it's not so bad, being pathetic, if I have you to be pathetic with."

She put her head on his shoulder.  "You're not so pathetic.  You're just hurting, Todd.  I so want to take it away from you."

"You do, every time you look at me with those eyes."  He brushed her hair back.  "Those eyes.  Hope Jewel has them."

"Maybe.  Or she could have yours."

"I guess."

"I love you, Todd.  I always have, and I always will."

He took her hand, and kissed it.

*** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** ***
Your comments are 'payment' for the work of the authors. Our writers like to hear your feedback. Please leave a comment when you read.