Twenty Four Weeks - Episode 18 - "Twenty Nine" (PG)

by James David Denisson

will have to change.

  After the show and the ensuring meeting, I leave the station and pick Quinn up from her work. She will be having her last day in a couple of weeks. There will be a party and there will be tears. And then she’ll be on leave. It’s a little too soon, I think, and I wonder if things haven’t been hastened by last weeks exposure of her personal life. I’d like to think that it’s just my paranoia. Either way, Quinn is saying nothing. She’s getting a party and some presents and some time off to ready herself for Rachel’s arrival, so I don’t think she’s going to complain.

  All day there has been some things rattling around in my brain. There always are these days. Sometimes some of those things collide and stick together, like molecules in a solution. There is a flash and a bang, a reaction, in my mind and everything becomes clear.

  And these two ideas have come together: that you cannot be brutally truthful and not cruel at the same time. If it is possible, and I’m not convinced that it is, then it requires skill and tact. And I don’t have either of these things in the necessary quantities. Moreover, if I am to speak words of life into her, into us, then cruelty cannot be part of the equation. Therefore I am faced with only one solution: I must forego brutal honesty for a much kinder approach.

  She is waiting on the sidewalk when I pull up. She has her hands full and so I double park, get out and help her with the background calling of car horns in my ears. In less than a minute were going again. She warms her hands in the AC vents. The weather of last week has departed and winter has arrived in earnest.

  “What’s that,” I ask her, of the bag she was carrying.

  “I tell you when we get home,” she says.

  She pulls out two boxes from within the shopping bag that she carried up from the car. She wouldn’t let me take it from her, so I knew that it was something special.

  The smaller box was gift wrapped and tied with a ribbon. She hands it to me with a wide smile.

  “Happy birthday,” she says.

  I take it from her, frowning. “We talked about this.”

  “I know.”

  “And it’s not my birthday for two months.”

  She sighs. “I know that too. Please, Judd. Just say thank you and open it.”

  “It can’t wait two months?”

  “I know it’s early but I thought you could use it now.”

  I just stand there, holding the present in the air between us.

  “Alright,” she says, a little angrily. “If you don’t want it, give it back. You know, after everything, you could be just a little grateful.”

  I nod my head, force a smile. I’m aware that the old Judd is back and he’s, quite frankly, an ass. “You’re right,” I say. “I’m sorry. Thanks for this.”

  She watches me open the gift and my smile becomes genuine. The wrapping falls away. There we are. She’s in her white dress. Rachel pokes out in front. I’m in my suit with my arm around her. We’re smiling. We’re happy. We’ve made it out of the dark valley and now we’re in the light of a thousand stars – small and twinkling in the canopy above us. We smile surrounded by a brushed aluminium frame.

  “I thought you could put that on your desk at work. You know, replace our wedding photo.”

  “Damn,” I say. “This is beautiful. This could be the best present you’ve ever given me. Apart from Rachel, of course.” I take her hand, I look at her grimly. “I’ve got something I should say.”

  She bites her bottom lip. She says nothing.

  I shake my head. “And now you’ve given me this and I’ve acted like an ass.”

  “Yes you have,” she says.

  “Look, I’m really sorry that I’ve been difficult to live with for the last two days.”

  “No. You haven’t.”

  I shake my head a second time. “I have. Don’t let me off the hook. I’ve been acting like I did a year ago, and that’s wrong of me. You didn’t deserve what I said to you yesterday.”

  “I don’t remember.”

  “Well, I’m not going to repeat myself. The point is, we made a pact to always speak the truth, but there’s a problem with that.”

  “Oh?”

  “Sometimes the truth hurts. We both know that. But sometimes telling the truth hurts too much. Sometimes it’s cruel. I don’t want to be cruel to you, not anymore.”

  “This is about birthdays, right?”

  “Yeah.”

  “I understand what you mean.”

  “That doesn’t give me the right to rub that in your face, even if that wasn’t my intention. It’s cruel and not in any way loving at all. So, I’m sorry.”

  “It’s okay.” She squeezes my hand. No tears we shed, for which I’m grateful. Sometimes too much emotion is a bad thing.

  “I’ve got another one framed for our bedroom,” she tells me. “But, you should see this.”

  She pulls out a second, much larger box, not covered in wrapping. She opens the lid and pulls out a photo album.

  “Pictures from our anniversary,” she says.

  “You’ve seen them?”

  “Just a few. But I wanted to look at them with you, together.”

  And we do, sitting on the lounge, leafing through the album page after page. These are the record of our new future, the ones that should go into the blank spaces of our last album. They will never appear there now. Those places will forever remain blank. I guess it’s a sign that something catastrophic happened and the future we were going to have, and the one we are now living, diverged and went separate ways. The album was the start of this new life and soon there will be pictures of Rachel in there, small at first and then growing into a person with a future all her own.

  We cry as we view the record of our vows. Grant stands there, bringing us forward. Boner steps up and guides me. I’m reading from a paper. I’m putting a ring on her finger. Mary places a hand on Quinn’s shoulder, blesses her as she speaks her words of dedication to me. Finally we stand and kiss under the myriad of lights. There are other shots of those around us. I couldn’t see them then, my attention was on Quinn and her soft lips. They’re clapping, cheering. Later we’re at the reception. People are drinking, dancing, laughing. I hold her as we move to the slow music and all eyes are on us. Then she dances with her father and he’s smiling. I don’t recall him ever smiling like that before - like he’s proud of the woman that she is, the mother that she is becoming. Wade and Chloe are kissing. Wendy and Horey are kissing. My mother and Linda are kissing. Quinn and I are kissing. And then we leave. The last photo of us is our backs as we hurry to the car and home and our bed.

  And after seeing all of that we are reminded of how we ended up. I take Quinn’s hand in mine, lead her to our room. I take off her work clothes slowly until she is naked and wonderful. She kisses me like she did that night and makes me as naked as she is. And then we make love until we are exhausted and there are no more minutes left in the day.

  Wednesday

  Wade grabs me before we start our show, pulls me into his office.

  “You busy this afternoon?” he asks me.

  “No, why?” I’m not. I just have to pick Quinn up at five. I’ve not maybe four hours to fill in.

  “I got a call last night. We’ve got a meeting.”

  “About what?”

  “Television.”

  “Haven’t we had enough of that? I mean, we barely made it out alive last time.”

  He smiles, shakes his head. “This is different. They want to put the Man Up show on screen.”

  “What?”

  “That’s right. The network thinks we’ve got something there. They want to bring us in, talk to us about it.”

  “That’s nuts. And I don’t know anything about producing television.”

  “How hard can it be? It’s just radio in front of a camera.”

  “I may not know much,” I tell him with just a little sarcasm, “but at least I do know that there’s a lot more to it than that.”

  He shrugs. “So, we’ll le
arn.”

  I sit in a chair, exhale deeply. “You want me to go over with you?”

  “We’re in this together, buddy, all the way. I wouldn’t even be here if you hadn’t come back. It was a bold move and it’s paying off - paying big.”

  “Well, it’s making you richer, that’s for certain.”

  But the thing is, I don’t need all of his money. I have enough of my own things to fill one side of a wardrobe. I have enough money to look after Quinn and Rachel. I have enough. And I’m satisfied.

  Wade is looking at me strangely. It’s strange because I’m seeing the kinds of expressions on him these last few months that I’ve have never seen on him since I’ve known him.

  “What?” I say.

  “Nothing,” he replies.

  We don’t talk again because he needs to go into the booth and I need to go to my desk. Quinn is there, standing with me in her white dress. She smiling, more than she ever has. We’re happy, finally after a good many years. And I’m smiling now as I look at her – full of love, radiant with the new life inside her, now visible. I have everything I need right there.

  Wade drives me to the network in one of his Maserati’s. He want’s to make an impression when he pulls up. He wants to exude success and power. An old Jeep SUV just didn’t cut it in his mind.

  Upstairs we’re in a meeting room, sitting at a long table alone. In the center is a jug of water and several glasses. I’m thirsty but I don’t touch anything, I barely move. They’re making us wait and I don’t know why. Maybe they want to make an entrance as well.

  Then they file in, a long line of suits and in a moment we’re facing them on the other side of the desk,