Failings of the Fathers: 8

"Wow, what time is it?"  Blair said, waking.  

Todd was still alert, as he had been.  She'd been sleeping on his chest, he'd been holding her and thinking.  "It's almost time for the kids to be home."

"We should get up, then," she said, propping herself on her elbow.

"Yep." 

"You were amazing."

"You were, too."  He touched her hair.

"I love these afternoons."

"I know.  Me, too."  He swung his legs over the side of the bed.  "Time to get back to family life."

"Did Ray wake up?"

"No, Ray didn't wake up.  He slept through.  I had the monitor on.  Nothing."

"Wonder what your mother is thinking?"

"Don't worry about her, she's happy to be here.  She knows the deal, about us, about the way things are.  She's a sharp cookie."

Blair laughed lightly.  "Well, let me get a quick shower and get my clothes back on."  She got up.

"All right.  I'll shower with you, I need one, too."

"Nothing funny, or we'll have to start over again!"  She teased.  

"All right, nothing funny." The two of them stepped into the shower, and began to soak in the warm water.  "Jack's going to be home first, remember?  He was at Jenna's after school today.  I had Williams go and get Sam, and Jack, and bring them home together.  Any minute now."

She soaped his back.  The scars were as prominent as always, but she was beginning to be used to them.  The one she had witnessed was staring at her from the top of his shoulder.  She winced slightly, and kept on soaping.  He closed his eyes and enjoyed her work on his back.  She said, "You've got a beautiful body, Todd.  You always did."

"Yeah, I know at first you really loved me for it, not my money.  I knew the whole thing was a ruse."

She giggled.  "We were so different then.  So young."

"We were, but we were also much the same," he said, turning to her, and kissing her.

"Hey, I said 'no funny stuff.'"

"Too late," he said.

***

"I had a math test today."  Sam said as Jack got into the limousine.  

"Oh yeah?  How did you do, Runty?"

"I did good, Oaf."

"Oaf?  Where did you get that?"

"I have good vocabulary.  Ms. Wilson said so."

"Well, that's good then.  Keep doing good in school.  It's important.  What do you want to be when you grow up?"

"I don't know.  Sometimes I think I want to be a cop, like McPain."

"You know you're not supposed to call him that anymore, right?  Dad said so."

"Yeah, I know.  Anyway, sometimes I want to be a superhero."

"Well, that dive into the snow should tell ya, there's no superheroes."

Sam's face turned to a frown.  "There is, too."

"No Sam, there's not."

"There is!  Dad's one.  He is.  He's a superhero.  He just doesn't have powers."

"Then he's not.  He's just a hero, I guess."  He remembered his father's vehement disagreement with that statement.

Sam was quiet.  "He saved people."

"I know he did, Runty."

"He saved me.  Remember?  Mom said he dug me out with his bare hands."

Jack remembered, he was there.  His father's stricken face as he dug through the mounds of icy crystals with his hands, and how his blood ran onto the whiteness . . . "He did.  I saw."

"Is it true?  Did Mixie dig, too?"

"Yeah, Mixie dug."

"He loves me."

"Yep."

"And Dad does.  I think he was crying."

"He was.  Mom, too.  Everyone was.  Bonehead, you made everyone upset.  Make sure you don't do that ever again."  Jack said, and Sam inched closer to him, putting his head against him.  Jack lifted his arm, and put it around Sam's shoulder.  

"I won't."  There was a long pause.  "Were you sad, Jack?"

"What do you think, Shortstuff?"

"I love you, Jack.  You're a good brother."

"You're a good brother too, Puny."

After a long drive that set Sam to sleep and Jack staring out the window, lost in music and texts, the limo pulled up in front of Unforgettable.  They got out and Sam made his way to the door.  "I wanna see Grandma Bitsy!  She's going to teach me to draw an elephant today for my Africa project."

Jack watched him go, and made his way leisurely to the door.  When he got into the foyer, he spotted his father, just walking into the kitchen, with Sam already on his shoulder, balanced like a bag of wheat. "Hey, Dad."

"Hey."

"Dad, I have to ask you something."

"Sure," he said, spinning Sam and setting him down, and helping him get back onto his crutches.  "What's up?"

"Did you mean what you said about sending Jenna to college?"

"Yep.  I meant it.  Why?"

"She wants to go to Yale."

Todd raised an eyebrow.  "Okay.  I can shift some funds around.  No big deal.  I promised and I'll make good on that.  Of course, it's not until next year, that gives me plenty of time."

"I knew you wouldn't say it and not do it.  She might go to Llanview U, but I don't want her to change her dreams for me."

"I can see that.  That's pretty mature of you."

"Yeah, well, she's important."

Todd smiled.  "I can see that, too.  I'll get on it."

"Thanks, Dad.  What are you making?"

"Tacos."

"Yes!"

"Go get some homework done."

"Did it all at Jenna's."

"All right, then.  What next?"

"Where's Mom?"

"WIth Grandma Bitsy and Ray."

"Not for long.  Runty's on his way up there, and wants art lessons."

"His name is Sam.  And good for him."

"He doesn't mind that I call him Runty.  Today, he calls me Oaf, before, Giant of the Dumbness, and more."

"He's sharp."

"Today he was talking about the snow thing.  When he fell in.  When you dug him out."

Todd paused slightly, and then moved on.  "Yep.  What a day that was."

"He wants to be you when he grows up."

Todd sighed.  "Okay, I take back the sharp thing."

"No, really.  He sees the good in you.  He sees it in everyone.  He saw it in Zeus sometimes.  There's like only one person I can't see him seeing good in, and I don't want to bring him up."

Todd knew who Jack meant, and his eyes narrowed.  "Don't worry about that, he'll never get the chance.  The old man's dead."

Todd's voice was flat and cold, and Jack said, "You hate him, don't you."

"Who, Peter Manning?"  Todd was chopping veggies for the tacos.  "I don't think I can give him that kind of power.  Hate takes a lot out of a person."

You good-for-nothing.  Your mother made a pansy out of you.  Like a girl.

Jack said, "That sounds good when you say it.  But . . . can you really mean it?  I can't, because I hate him.  Really hate him."

Todd put a hand on his son's shoulder.  "You hate what he did to me and Bitsy.  You never knew him.  Does he really deserve a strong emotion like hate from you?  Think about that."

"So, you don't hate him?"

"Think you're tough?  Give me your arm, show how tough you are here, Todd."  He brought the lighter out of his pocket.

Todd put down the knife loudly, and said, "Jack, come on.  This is just not a topic that I want to talk about or want you involved in."  His heart was racing in his chest.  His eyes felt . . . they burned.  

"Okay, I'm sorry."

"You know, you don't have to be sorry.  I just . . . yeah, all right, I hate him!"  he shouted, suddenly, and was overtaken by his own feelings and memories.  He tried, but couldn't catch his breath.  He said, "Get your mother."

Jack took the stairs two-at-a-time, and at the top, he called her, "Mom!"

She poked her head out of the nursery, holding Ray.  Sam and Bitsy, who were in her room at the desk, did, too.

"Mom, it's my fault.  I . . . Dad's . . . he can't breathe."

"Oh God," Blair said, handing Ray off to Jack and rushing to the staircase.  "It's all right Jack, it's just panic," She went as fast as she could without putting caution aside, because she did not want to fall.  BItsy followed, and Jack held Sam at bay on the second level with his brother.

Todd was against the counter, on the floor, slumped over.  He looked very pale.  Blair crouched the best she could by him, and touched his face, "Todd, look at me."

He did, saying, "Blair.  Hi.  I . . . don't know what happened.  I couldn't breathe there for a minute."

"Are you all right?"

"Yes.  I . . . Jack just wanted to talk.  I just . . . flashed on Peter.  The lighter.  The clinic."  He let his head rest back against the cabinets.

"Let me get you up."  Blair said, starting to try and move to her feet.  She struggled.

He smirked.  "Hmf.  Don't you have that one wrong?"

She looked at herself and then sat with a small thud.  "Oh, right.  I guess so."

"I'm all right now.  I'll get us both up," he said, moving to his feet in one fluid motion.  He put his strong arms under hers and lifted her to standing. 

She said, "My love, look at me.  You okay?"

He started to answer, when he spotted his mother over her shoulder.  

"You bitch.  You ruined him.  Made him into a fucking girl.  Look at that hair.  He likes to hang around you a little too much.  I'll toughen him up."

In his mind's eye, he saw Bitsy, years younger, her hair dark and flowing, and her face twisted with hate as she faced off with Peter.

When he blinked, she was back to herself, wide-eyed and her bottom lip trembling.

Immediately, he said, "Momma, it's all right."

"Todd's just remembering things, Momma," Blair added.  Bitsy was as if she couldn't hear them and slowly walked toward them.  

Within a few minutes she was standing right in front of Todd and Blair, with her eyes fixed on her son's face.  She reached up with both her hands and took his face in them.  She opened her mouth, as if she would speak, but her face contorted with the effort, and instead, she let a tear free.  

"Momma, it's all right," he said again, softly.  His eyes had brimmed.

She pulled his head to her shoulder and wrapped her arms around him.  At first, he embraced her, with a gentle hug, but as it went on, Blair saw him falling into shreds of emotion in his mother's arms in front of her.  She heard him say, "Momma," softly, and blinked back her own tears.  

Blair gingerly went to the top of refrigerator and into a small cabinet to get a pad and pen, and brought it to them.  Soon after, the embrace broke, and Blair offered them to Bitsy and she took them.  Todd wiped his eyes on his sleeve, as his mother wrote.  Blair took the note and read it aloud:

You mustn't waste time on a man like Peter.  He didn't love you because you were better than he was.  You were a beautiful child.  You loved the butterflies and the bees.  You wanted to be one, and fly.  He hated that.  He wanted you to be dark and rough and hurtful and cruel like he was.  He was very wrong in everything he did.  He didn't appreciate or love us.  He did terrible things and he is gone.  He is dead.  You must leave him behind.  Just forget him, Todd.  Forget him and be who you are.  

The last line was retraced, and darker than the rest, and underlined:

Be who you were meant to be.

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