Hold me, hold me
And never let me go until you've told me, told me
What I want to know and then just hold me, hold me
Make me tell you I'm in love with you
Rick started when he heard the ancient record player ring out from the kitchen. He'd mistakenly assumed he was home alone for the evening. He surmised Beth had dipped into her wine, nostalgic enough to root around for out-dated music equipment. Something churned in his stomach.
The melody tried to pry a memory from the depths of his mind, but Rick resisted. Instinctively, he reached for his flask to numb whatever emotion might bubble up. He ignored the twist in his gut and returned to the microscope, blocking out the song.
Thrill me, thrill me
Walk me down the lane where shadows
Will be, will be
Hiding lovers just the same as we'll be, we'll be
When you make me tell you I love you
This time Beth's voice joined the singer's, shaky but sweet. Evidently, she thought she'd be home alone, too. Rick smiled in spite of himself. It had been ages since he'd heard Beth sing. Granted, she had been small and preferred nursery rhymes. Now that she was grown, she sounded just like...
Rick froze. He felt sick to his stomach. She sounded just like her mom. His smile twisted into a sour expression, and he groped for his nearby headset. Once again, he took a swig from his flask.
To Rick's dismay, the headphones didn't help. He'd fiddled with them enough; they were truly noise-cancelling. Unfortunately, he knew the song well enough to keep time with it. He knew exactly where it would be, and his stupid brain kept up with the lyrics:
They told me "Be sensible with your new love"
"Don't be fooled, thinking this is the last you'll find"
But they never stood in the dark with you love
When you take me in your arms
And drive me slowly out of my mind
Rick growled and wrenched the headphones off. Useless, he thought, glaring at his work as he tried to chase the ghosts from his mind. He hunched over the microscope, tense with anger.
Finally, blessedly, the song came to an end. Rick puffed a sigh, shaking loose the tension. He fiddled with the microscope's settings, switching from slide to slide until he heard the hellish scratch of another record. A slow melody floated through the air, and the lyrics sang out:
Whoa, my love
My darling
I've hungered for your touch
A long, lonely time
Rick slammed his fist down on the worktable, but Beth didn't seem to hear. She'd begun to sing along to this tune, too. Rick shivered, reaching for his flask. He put it to his lips, almost letting out a sob of frustration when he found it empty. God dammit.
And time goes by so slowly
And time can do so much
Are you still mine?
Rick kicked the chair out from under himself and stalked to the kitchen door, wrenching it open. Beth jumped violently, spilling a drop or two of alcohol onto the counter. She had been swaying in time to the music but stopped mid-motion, almost falling when she lost her balance. The fucking song continued mournfully:
I need your love
I need your love
God-speed your love to me
"Dad?" Beth fumbled for the needle. The damned record skipped for a second or two before she finally managed to lift it from the player. "Sorry. I-I didn't know you were home." She hugged the record to her chest like a teddy bear. Rick looked from it to the records on the counter in front of his daughter.
"I-Urrrp-It's fine, Beth," croaked Rick, stooping down to the liquor cabinet. He kept his voice casual, unassuming. "That song," he said. "It's from that Swayze movie, right?"
Beth sighed in relief, setting the record aside with the rest. "Yeah, Dad. Ghost." Of course, that wasn't why she was listening to it, but she thought that he didn't know—that he'd forgotten.
Rick traced his fingers over the various bottles. Wine, wine, tequila, wine, rum. The last gave him pause. He hadn't known Beth to buy rum, but upon review, it hadn't been a wine glass she'd been holding but a highball glass. Rick glared at the bottle and pushed past it until he found—vodka, yes.
"Rum and coke?" Rick inquired icily, refilling his flask. He saw Beth flinch again out of the corner of his eye. "Th-that's different."
"Uh, yeah." That was all she offered him, but he knew—it was his wife's favorite drink, just like those were his wife's favorite songs.
Rick merely replied, "Huh," and replaced the vodka. Without another word, he returned to the garage.
Rick took his seat in front of the microscope, but he didn't reach for it. Instead, he took a large gulp of vodka. After a beat, he heard Beth start the record player once more, but his anger melted away when he realized why she had gotten out the bottle of rum and the old records.
Lonely rivers flow to the sea, to the sea
To the open arms of the sea
Lonely rivers sigh, "Wait for me, wait for me
I'll be coming home, wait for me."
Rick pushed his sleeve back to examine his watch, and the date read exactly how he expected. He took another swig of alcohol.
For the past year or so, Beth had managed to hide any and all trace of her mother from him, perhaps out of fear that he'd leave again. Rick couldn't lie, he had thought about it a time or two when one of the kids brought up their grandmother. Today, however, on her mom's birthday, Rick couldn't blame Beth for her reckless sentimentality. He couldn't blame her for missing her mother when he, too, felt the pang of loss even now.
And time goes by so slowly
And time can do so much
Are you still mine?
Rick had spent his whole life running: running from hurt, from loss, from love, from himself, but tonight he didn't fight the tear that crept its way onto his cheek. "Happy birthday, baby love," he whispered to the wind. Despite his earlier protestations, he quietly sung along as the song finished:
And time goes by so slowly
And time can do so much
Are you still mine?
A/N: I am still working on Chapter 3 of Just for Kicks so I'm sorry for the wait (I've got some writer's block as far as that story goes), so here is a meager offering in the meantime!