D.R. finally let go and wiped his tears as he stepped back. John looked into his eyes but was at a loss for what to say. His heart was breaking. For lack of anything else, he reached over and messed up D.R.’s hair. D.R. gave him a wry smile, wrapped his arms, lowered his head and rammed John’s chest in a perfect blocking position. John fell onto the bed as D.R. climbed onto him.
“Dogpile!” D.R. yelled, rallying the troops. The other boys, realizing the game was back on, left their toys and ran to climb on top of John again. John laughed as they all scaled him like he was a human mountain.
The door opened, and Becca stuck her head in. “Okay, boys. Time for bed.”
Four heads popped up at once. Only three whined, “Aww.”
“Do we have to?” D.R. asked, as he crawled off of John.
Becca stepped inside and walked to the boy. She pulled him to her side and rubbed his head. “It’s been a long day, sweetie. And we’re all exhausted, especially Mommy.” She looked down, as her eldest son looked up. He made a pouty face as she leaned down and kissed his forehead. She knelt beside him, holding his face in her hands. “I love you, sweetie,” she smiled faintly, before standing and hugging him to her. She looked at the other two boys who still lay over John, pinning him to the bed.
“Okay, you two. PJs, now.”
Both boys crawled off John simultaneously, moved to their drawers and began rooting through them, searching for their pajamas.
“Then brush your teeth, and I’ll be back to tuck you in.”
John raised his head as Becca walked to the edge of the bed. “You okay?” she asked with a crooked smile.
John reached out his hand. “I’ve been better,” he sighed, as she pulled him up to standing beside her. John turned to the boys. “See you guys later,” he promised, as they wrestled with changing from their church clothes into their pajamas.
Becca pulled him out the door and down the hall toward the living room. As they arrived, she released him and walked around the living room, picking up cups and plates and napkins. John turned the corner to the kitchen and stopped. His eyes caught hers immediately, and they both smiled. He looked her up and down as she did the same. Then he walked right up to her and took her into his arms.
“God, you’re a sight for sore eyes,” he said into her neck. “You look good.”
Marissa leaned back, still in his arms. “I do, don’t I?” she said wryly. Her hand moved to his cheek. “And you’re still too damn sexy to resist,” she said, caressing his five o’clock shadow. She leaned in and kissed him softly on his cheek, catching the side of his lips.
Becca walked in carrying an armful of trash. “Okay, you two. Get a room,” she chided, as she walked by, dropping the contents of her hands and arms into the yellow trashcan.
Marissa stepped back, his hand still on her waist. “Just saying that he has no right to look this good after all this time,” she added with a sly smile. She reached up and wiped the remnants of her lipstick from the side of his lips. Their eyes were still locked on each other. She reached down and took his left hand. “Still no ring, I see,” she said, narrowing her eyes.
Becca watched them, but only for a moment. She looked down at her own ring, toying with it before holding the ring tightly to her chest.
John stepped back and reached for the bag he had brought earlier which Becca had set on the corner of the yellow countertop. He reached into the bag and pulled out a bottle of Crown Royal and held it up. Marissa moved to the cabinet, took out three glasses and set them on the counter. She moved to the refrigerator and retrieved three cans of ginger ale, closing the door with a gentle motion of her hip.
John poured a little whiskey into the three glasses as Marissa popped the top on the cans and proceeded to pour the cold, bubbling liquid into the glasses. John held his hand over his own glass; then picked up two glasses and handed one to Becca. She looked down at the amber liquid. John held his up higher as Marissa picked up hers.
“To David,” John said, raising his glass.
Marissa raised her glass and tapped his. “To David,” she said.
Becca looked at her friends and raised her glass, tapping it against both of theirs. “To David,” she said softly.
Marissa sipped her drink slowly, while John drank his in one gulp. He began pouring himself another shot while Becca drank hers deliberately. Suddenly, she started to cough and set the empty glass down. She bent over, coughing hard. Marissa reached over and patted her on the back. “Not enough ginger ale?” she chuckled.
John knocked back his shot as Marissa attempted to help their friend breathe again. He poured himself another before turning to the women.
Becca gasped, her eyes tearing. “Now I remember why I don’t drink anymore,” she said, drawing in a deep breath.
Marissa smiled. “It’s okay, honey.” She glanced over at John, who downed another shot, before turning back to Becca. “It will help you relax.”
A little voice from behind caused them all to turn. “Mommy?” Johnny said, standing in the doorway, his pajama top inside out, with remnants of toothpaste on his cheek, chin, and shirt.
Becca walked up to him, kneeling beside him.
“Where did all the people go?” he asked.
“They all had to go home, sweetie.” She stood up and took his hand. “And it’s time for you guys to go to bed.”
“Okay, Mommy.” He turned to John and Marissa. “Night, night,” he said, abruptly letting go of his mom’s hand and running to John. He hugged John’s legs, his hands barely reaching around them. John reached down and rubbed his namesake’s feather-soft hair. The small child released John and hugged Marissa by leaning against her leg and grabbing it before running back to his mom.
Becca picked him up; then smiled at them. “Be right back,” she said before disappearing down the hall.
Marissa turned back to John. They looked into each other’s eyes maybe a moment too long before she held up her glass. John picked up the bottle and poured them each another shot. She continued to hold her glass up and shook it. “Oh, no, you don’t,” she said. “I need this tonight.”
John smiled a wry smile before pouring her a little more. She reached over and added more ginger ale until her glass was full. She held it up to him. “To Becca,” she said, her eyes watching his.
John looked down at his glass and then back to her. “To Becca,” he said, drinking it all at once. He gasped and then set his glass down.
Marissa sipped hers as she continued to watch him. “I saw you this afternoon,” she said casually, her lips against her glass. “Why didn’t you come over?”
John turned at the counter next to her and faced the window.
Marissa continued to sip her drink. “I think she’s going to be okay,” she said with a sigh. “I wasn’t sure at first. But now,” she began, turning and standing beside him, their shoulders touching as she looked the other direction.
John rested his hands on the counter and dropped his head. Marissa reached down and took his hand. He closed his eyes as the alcohol, and being there, right now, weakened his fortitude. He shook his head. “I wish,” he began, before his voice began to crack.
Marissa turned to him. She watched as the only man she ever loved crumbled before her.
“I wish,” he tried to continue, but simply couldn’t.
Marissa saw tears fall into the sink, and she reached to his face, turning him to her. She held his face between her hands and smiled faintly. “There’s nothing any of us could have done,” she assured him.
John looked at her; then, collapsed against her shoulder and held her tightly, as he sobbed. Of all the people he’d lost in his life, he never hurt like this. The guilt of not being there more for his friend, the hurt of knowing he hadn’t been there for Becca, overwhelmed him.
Marissa stroked his head and neck as she held him against her. Tears rolled down her cheeks. The emotions of losing David and seeing John again were just too much to bear.
John st
epped back suddenly, wiped his eyes with his hands and took a deep breath. He looked at Marissa, at a loss for words. She had always been the strongest part of them. She had kept the cooler head when they were together. He smiled a weak smile, unable to say all that he wanted to say.
“You’re welcome,” she smiled, reaching to pet the stubbles on his cheek again. “God, it’s good to see you,” she said, drawing in a deep breath before turning to the dishes in front of them. She reached over and grabbed a dishtowel. She tossed it over his shoulder. “I’ll wash, you dry,” she said, as she plugged the sink, added soap and ran warm water to wash the dishes that sat around them.
Fifteen minutes and forty dishes later, they turned, satisfied that they had contributed something to the day. They leaned against the sink, shoulder to shoulder, both staring into nothing. “She seems to be doing okay, considering,” John said, finally.
Marissa moved back to her drink. She leaned on the counter, staring into the glass without partaking of it. “She puts up a good front,” she began. She sighed heavily and shook her head. “But honestly, I don’t know how she’s going to make it through this one.” She swirled the cool, honey liquid in her glass.
John stepped away from the counter, popped her with the towel and then tossed it at her as he walked by. “Be right back,” he said, as he turned the corner and disappeared.
Marissa watched him turn down the hallway before she stood up straight and held her drink up in the air. “To Becca,” she said softly; “for strength and for courage.” She slowly sipped her drink again, then set it down, feeling completely numb.
Chapter 21: March 25, 1974
John stood just outside the doorway to the boys’ room, eavesdropping on their nighttime routine, knowing there was nothing routine about tonight. Nothing would ever be the same again for this family. There would be new routines, new rituals, and new memories—all without David. John leaned against the doorjamb and closed his eyes.
“Mommy,” Johnny asked. “Is Daddy an angel now?”
Becca smiled down at her middle son. “Yes, honey. He is.”
“Do you think he has wings?”
“Do you think he’d want wings, honey?” she replied with a question.
Johnny thought for a moment; then looked into her eyes with naïve excitement. “Yeah. Great big ones. White ones with lots of feathers.”
“Like Pegasus,” D.R. added from his bed.
“Daddy would like that,” Becca said softly.
“Will Daddy miss us in heaven?” Johnny asked.
John closed his eyes, his hands against the doorframe, as if it drew him nearer to her. To them.
Becca bit her lips as they began to tremble. “Yes, sweetie.” She leaned over and kissed his forehead. “He’ll miss us so much.” She caressed his soft face with her hand, her nose to his.
“As much as we’ll miss him?” he asked.
Becca rubbed her nose against his. “Absolutely.”
“I really miss Daddy,” he said sadly.
“Me, too, sweetie,” she said, tucking him in tighter. “Now, close your eyes and get some sleep, okay?”
Johnny nodded and closed his eyes, nuzzling deeper into his pillow. Becca kissed him on the forehead, stood up and walked to William’s bed. He snored softly and innocently, hugging his stuffed rabbit to his chest. She kissed him lightly on the forehead and then smiled sadly. She turned, walking directly to D.R.’s bed. She sat beside him and brushed his hair with her hand. “I love you so much, sweetie,” she said. “Thank you for being so brave and strong today,” she added, looking down at him. D.R. nodded as he looked up at her.
“I love you, Mommy.”
Becca fought the tears as she leaned over and kissed his forehead. As she stood to walk away, D.R. wiped a tear from his eye. He watched her as she walked to the door.
John turned away and walked back to the kitchen.
“Mommy,” D.R. called after her.
Becca turned and saw he was crying. Her heart crumbled as she walked to his bedside and crawled into bed beside him. D.R. moved over to let her lie down. They lay side by side on his pillow facing each other. Tears streamed from both their eyes as they looked at one another. “We’re going to be okay,” she promised him, petting his cheek. “We are. I promise,” she smiled sadly, wrapping her arm around him and pulling him closer. “I promise,” she whispered to his forehead as she held him. She closed her eyes, trying hard to be strong for her son. “I promise,” she said again, before they fell asleep in each other’s arms.
John walked back into the kitchen, his hands in his pockets. There was music playing in the kitchen from the countertop radio next to the toaster. King Floyd was singing his heart out, and Marissa was spinning, eyes closed before returning to wiping down the counter. His smile grew as he leaned against the doorframe. He watched her hips move with the rhythm as she sashayed the full length of the counter. She turned and twisted, her arms raised, as she danced slowly in a circle. He shook his head and drew in a deep breath. God, she was beautiful.
On her last turn, she opened her eyes and saw John leaning against the wall. His smile grew. She continued to dance and slowly danced toward him, motioning her finger for him to come to her. When he didn’t, she danced to him and took his hand. He resisted for only a moment, but Marissa didn’t give up easily, pulling him until he allowed her to maneuver him into the kitchen. “Groove me, baby, oh, come on, make me feel good inside,” she mouthed with the music. She took his hands as he began to move in perfect time with her to the music.
“There you go,” she said, smiling. He allowed his body to relax and move in sync with hers. She nodded an approving smile. He closed his eyes and rolled his body with the music, holding his arms up as she had moments before. He rolled his hips wide as he turned and landed back in her hands. He took her hand as she moved seductively before him. Their fingers intertwined as they pushed and pulled against each other, moving around the kitchen. The song faded to Van Morrison crooning “Crazy Love.” Instead of letting go, he pulled her to him, holding her tightly as their bodies pressed together. He purposefully slid her arm behind him.
Marissa rested her head on his shoulder. Their arms were wrapped around each other as they slowly moved to the music. It felt so right in his arms that she wanted the song to never end, the moment to never end. She closed her eyes, feeling lost in the music. His hand slowly caressed her back as the other moved to her head and brushed her long dark hair. It felt like old times. They had made such beautiful music together in and out of the bedroom. Maybe her mind was playing tricks on her, or maybe it was loneliness, or maybe just the booze. How could she ever have let him go?
They slowly parted as he took her hand in his and spun her around the kitchen. He pushed her away, spinning her, pulling her close again, and wrapping himself around her. He twirled her in his arms lifting her feet from the ground. She laid her head back and laughed. He slowed, though the music didn’t. They parted again, and suddenly he was looking down at her. He dipped her backward, and slowly pulled her back up, his hand rediscovering her neck and then her face. She slowly raised her head up. John leaned in, accepting the invitation and began kissing her neck. He lightly brushed her face with his fingers. Her mind begged him not to stop. As she leaned forward, he met her motion, his warm breath on her cheek. He cradled her head gently, and suddenly he was kissing her, lightly, sweetly. They stopped moving, and his hands moved to her face, holding her as he kissed her again.
John opened his eyes as he pressed his forehead to hers. He smiled, feeling a little ashamed. “Sorry,” he said.
Marissa wiped her lips as she stepped back. “It’s okay,” she said, looking down. “We’ll blame it on the booze.” She looked back up into his dark eyes. She saw something out of the corner of her eye and turned. John matched her motion.
Becca was standing there watching them. They didn’t know how long she’d been there, but it was obvious that they were all taken by surprise. “I think I’m goi
ng to take a shower,” Becca said meekly, before turning and disappearing down the hallway.
John’s eyes followed Becca while Marissa turned back to the empty dish rack. “Just like a man to conveniently reappear when all the dishes are put away,” she added coyly.
John held up his hands. “I helped,” he said in his defense.
Marissa popped him with the towel.
John walked back to the glasses on the counter and poured himself another shot. Marissa held up her empty glass again. He raised his eyebrows. “I don’t remember you ever drinking anything harder than wine.”
“I don’t,” she replied as she shook her glass. When he didn’t pour it, she tipped the bottle in his hand to pour some into her glass. Marissa added more ginger ale before going to the freezer and taking two oval ice cubes from the ice bin and dropping them into her glass. She rolled the liquid around before taking a long sip.
“If that’s the case, you definitely shouldn’t drink so much. This is the hard stuff,” he argued.
She stopped and gave him a sharp glance. “You haven’t been here. I’ve earned this!” she insisted, downing more of her drink. Marissa walked over to him, pressing close to him and taking the bottle from his hand and pouring herself a half glass. She tried to drink it straight but made a face.
John took the glass from her hand. “You’re through.”
Marissa furrowed her brow angrily, but then when she looked into his eyes, her demeanor softened. Her hand went to his cheek again.
“You staying here tonight?” he asked.
“Yeah,” she sighed. “She fought me on it. Said she’d be fine. But I’m staying, just in case. If nothing else, to help with the boys. You?”
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