Chasing the Dragon

Chapter One

Mac strolled out of the train stop, tossing an empty cup of coffee into the trash and a folded newspaper into the recycling bin. The Sunday afternoon train ride had been, predictably, relaxed and mostly empty of people. Mac didn't mind commuting this way, and it had become a habit for the boss of the Lab to put in a few hours on Sunday mornings followed by a forty minute train ride on the Long Island Railroad. It seemed like he was visiting another world, although the locals still called it New York.

Today's routine had been slightly different, resulting in a shorter workday. He and Christine had ridden their bikes through Central Park, making the loop more than once, until they were panting at the exertion. Then, dodging traffic, they parked them in front of their favorite neighborhood diner before enjoying a leisurely brunch. Even though Mac knew he had work waiting, he belonged with Christine that morning.

Inexplicably, the waitress had stumbled, spilling the cream down the front of Mac's shirt. Christine had laughed, understanding herself how accidents in restaurants can happen. Mac had smiled, easing the waitress' embarrassment and assured her it wasn't a problem. Christine's eyes had even sparkled as Mac pushed the young lady away from dabbing at his front with a wadded up napkin. It had been a light moment in a rather dark week, and Mac was heartened that the two of them could still find ways to laugh.

He had only put in ninety minutes at the office before distraction and temptation were calling his name. He packed up early and sat in the back of the church, his legs extended and crossed at the ankles. It was an unfamiliar time for him, the room full of unfamiliar people, but once in a while, Mac needed that. He left feeling renewed and he was glad he had made the time.

The walk from the train stop to his in-laws' home was less than two blocks, but he grabbed his phone to check for a text. Once in a while, his wife would text him as he got off the train to ask him to pick something up for the family dinner. Only one text today: Truth or Dare? She had sent it just as Mac had gotten on the train, and he was only now seeing it. He chuckled to himself and typed, Really? We're playing games now? See you in a few. His step lightened as he hopped the curb and jaywalked across the street to the small bungalow. He knew the scene that would greet him, and he welcomed it.

It wasn't always that way; Mac was far more of an introvert than he cared to admit, and sometimes, the last thing he wanted to do after a long shift that spanned the night, was to spend Sunday afternoon with his in-laws. Christine's aging parents still called the house their home and while his father-in-law was a little slower on his feet than he was when he and Christine had gotten married, he still got along quite well. His mother-in-law was feisty and active for her age, and she enjoyed the tradition of a Sunday evening dinner in her home, as long as the table included her children and their families.

Christine was the oldest of the remaining children, but she had three younger brothers. Sam and Emily had three children, ranging from sixteen to twenty-three; David and Caroline had two teenagers; and Tony, the youngest, was divorced with an eleven year old. So, all together, they were fifteen, give or take a few depending on custodial arrangements and the presence or absence of significant others. Mac didn't know how his mother-in-law did it. He remembered his own mother's stress at preparing an occasional meal just for her parents. Christine's mother did it weekly for her whole family.

She had help, of course. Christine loved trying new dishes on her family, and her sisters-in-law owned the kitchen as if it were their own. For his part, Mac enjoyed being surrounded by a family who had embraced him as much as they love their daughter.

His phone vibrated again: You didn't answer. Truth or dare?

Mac stopped before he entered the house and considered the text. It wasn't uncommon for her to send distractingly coy texts designed to get under his skin, yet if his messages were ever subpoenaed, they hovered on just the right side of the line. His wife was deceptively playful. Few people saw that side of her, and it had taken months before the rather serious woman had shown Mac her wit and confident banter.

She was obviously trying to change the mood between the couple. It had been stiflingly heavy for the past six days, and Mac knew the pair needed some lighthearted distraction. So he replied: Let's play tonight.

Her response was almost instant: Oooh… Clever. I'm holding you to it.

For sure, he typed before punching in the combination to the gate to the fenced-in side yard.

The phone vibrated one more time: Find a way for us to leave early, she ordered.

Mac chuckled as he pushed the gate open and hopped up the three concrete steps to the backdoor that entered into the kitchen. He tapped on the door as he opened it, calling out as he entered, "Hey, it's Mac."

"Hey!" his sister-in-law practically shouted as she stretched out the greeting.

"Emily," he said, smiling and kissing the cheek that she offered. His eyes were searching for Christine. Emily reached for his work bag and set it at the coat rack as she asked how the train to Long Island was. Not bad today, he replied, his standard answer, since the train commute was always preferable to the lengthy car ride from his office. His eyes flitted to the living room, asking silently if Christine was there.

"She ran to the store with Mama." The whole family continued to use the old-world nomenclature with her parents, even though her parents had emigrated as children from Germany in the thirties. It had taken several months after their marriage before Mac felt comfortable enough to adopt the practice himself. "She forgot bread," she said, arching her eyebrows. "Bread. I start to worry when she goes to the store and comes home without bread." Mac shrugged; he could relate. He often forgot important items on the shopping list. "And, just so you know," she continued, "I told Christine we need to talk to Papa about the checkbook." Mac furrowed his brow. "He forgot to record two checks." Mac stared, not understanding the problem. "Two checks, Mac," she repeated in a tone that told Mac that this was a serious matter. "He could have overdrawn his account."

"Did he?"

"No, but that's not the point." Mac nodded; he was missing the point, but that was okay. It was Christine's issue to address with her. He washed his hands before helping himself to some carrots and celery on a platter on the counter. Without looking at him, Emily asked quietly, "How's Christine?"

Mac shook his head in ambivalence. "She's hanging in there."

"And you?" she asked pointedly.

"We'll be alright," he said.

Emily continued chopping green peppers for the veggie platter, seeming to consider the response. Mac just hoped the conversation was over. He opened the refrigerator to help himself to a soda and stopped when he felt Emily's eyes on him. He looked back, eyebrows raised expectantly. She laid her knife down and looked at her brother-in-law with tears in her eyes. Jesus, Mac thought. It isn't over. She reached out and squeezed his arm. "Christine never got a fair shake with this." Mac frowned. "She would have been a really good mother."

Mac ran a hand over his face, irritated that in a period of forty-five seconds, his sister-in-law had gotten to the heart of the matter that had consumed them this week, and frankly, right now Mac rather hoped to avoid the topic. "Yeah," he exhaled. "We'll be alright though," he repeated. "She takes it in stride, you know?" Emily nodded. "Better than me anyway," he added with a touch of humor.

She looked at him tenderly and then reached her hand out and cupped his cheek in sympathy. Mac smiled a little and she whispered, "We are so sorry. Is there anything we can do?" Mac shook his head quickly. "Are you sure? Do you …" She chewed on her bottom lip and then asked, "Anything. I don't know. I don't even know what to say."

"Em," Mac said, putting a little space between them. "We're okay." He smiled and nodded to reassure her. "We'll be alright," he said for the third time.

Mac lay on his back, propped against two pillows. His left arm was bent at the elbow and he rest his hand behind his head. His bare feet were crossed at the ankles, and he held a book in his right hand. The lamp cast a dim yellow glow throughout the room. Christine walked in, wearing a pair of baggy cotton pants and a simple white camisole. She took off her watch and earrings and set them on the nightstand and crawled into bed. He moved his arm and pulled her close to him, the first acknowledgement that he heard her. He adjusted the book, and she rest her face under his chin, letting her arm rest on his chest. He shifted again, whispering, "Sorry. Your hair is in my face." She smiled and started to move, but he held her close.

It felt good to lay in bed together.

Christine was craving the quiet time alone with her husband. The week had been busy. Mac had put in long hours at the Lab and engaged in strenuous exercise on his off-time, while Christine had met with prospective clients and deep cleaned her restaurant at every spare moment. Everything had changed on Monday. When they realized suddenly that they had time to fill, they utilized every second on projects that had been on their "to-do" lists for months.

It was catching up with them, she knew, and Mac knew it too. That was why he had taken the morning off for bikes and brunch. They were quiet, introspective activities, and Mac and Christine could do them together, but both held some ability to distract. Tonight, though, it was just the two of them in a quiet bedroom, and it was time to think about it, time to talk about it, painful as it was.

"Did you have fun tonight?" she asked. Mac shrugged. It was fine. "It was strange," she said after a moment of silence.

"In what way?" Mac asked, his nose still in the book.

"Even though we do that every week, I'm not sure I expected how I would feel seeing all those kids at the table." Mac closed the book and set it to his side and shifted in bed so he could see her better. He nodded. "It's like … this is the week I realized I'm not ever going to have children. Before … Before, there was always hope. But now … this is it."

He reached his hand over and gently placed it on her stomach. He adjusted so his hand lay under her camisole and on her bare skin. He ran his thumb up and down the fading scar. She blinked back a few tears at the tender gesture . "Don't regret decisions you made years ago, Chris. You couldn't have known this would happen."

"But what about you? You always wanted to be a father and I think about what you're giving up to be with me and …"

"Hey, hey, hey," he said softly, interrupting her. He leaned over and kissed her lips. One hand still rest on her stomach and the other lingered in her hair, his thumb brushing at her cheek. "I don't want to hear that because it's not true," he whispered. "And you know it's not true. So don't tell yourself that." She nodded subtly, not convinced but Mac accepted it for now. He took a deep breath and then asked, "Truth or dare?"

She smiled a little and replied, "Truth."

"Do you want to try it again?" he asked.

She hesitated, and Mac waited. "Do you?" she responded quietly.

"I don't know," he replied honestly.

"It", of course, was the prospect of adoption. Mac and Christine had spent months researching options, engaging in home studies, preparing portfolios. And then they waited. After what felt like too long, they had been selected by a lovely young woman whose pregnancy was interfering with her desire to finish college. They had bonded over coffee and dinner, paid medical bills too expensive to fathom, prepared an open adoption plan, attended childbirth classes and ultrasounds, met the grandparents. As the due date approached, the birth mother started to withdraw slightly, and the agency told them to prepare for the possibility that it could fall through. Yet, a week before her due date, she had called, asked to meet with them again, told the couple that all was in order, and informed them she was just nervous. They had left the lunch feeling reassured, so it had been devastating when the social worker had called on Monday to tell them the birth mother had gone into labor and had simply changed her mind.

The pain was unlike anything Christine had experienced before. It wasn't quite like a death, but it wasn't easier than that either. It was different. It was the sting of rejection, although she knew it had nothing to do with them and everything to do with the young lady's emotions at being a mother. It was sadness at losing a child, but the baby never was theirs in the first place, so that wasn't quite it either. It was grief at losing a dream, certainly, but in all honesty, she had grieved that dream when she had had a hysterectomy years before marrying Mac.

Christine didn't know what she was feeling.

All she knew was that when she and Mac had gotten married, they had been content to never have children. One day, she had said – almost as an aside – that they could adopt a child if they wanted to. Mac had chuckled but hadn't responded. A few days later, he brought it up. And then Christine brought it up. And then it took on a life of its own. They had spent most of their marriage dedicating their lives to this endeavor. The realization that one person could shatter that dream, ruin their plans, and play game with their emotions angered her. Yet, she was full of compassion for the young lady.

"Chrissy," Mac said quietly, interrupting her thoughts. She smiled at the term of endearment that he rarely used. She focused on his eyes. "Talk to me," he ordered.

"I don't really know how I feel," she said, "but I don't think I can do that again." Mac nodded, his eyes clouded. She didn't know if he was disappointed or relieved. "How do you feel about that?" she pressed.

He spun his wedding ring in a circle and then nodded. "I feel fine with that." She leaned forward and kissed his lips. Then she leaned back and arched her eyebrows, daring him to continue. "I don't know how I feel either," he finally admitted.

"I think we need time," Christine said sensibly. "We'll sort it out later." He nodded and then Christine tilted her head back and forth, a sign of tension in her neck. He spun his index finger in the air, indicating she should turn over. She did and Mac straddled her back and began to knead her shoulders. He frowned, feeling a knot beneath her right deltoid muscle and he pushed at it with his thumb. "Oh my god," Christine murmured. "What are you doing to me?" He chuckled and leaned over to kiss the nape of her neck and then blew air on it. Christine giggled at the sensation and then asked, out of the blue, "What was it like to be an only child?"

Mac considered the question, his hands still kneading her flesh. After a moment, he squeezed gently and rolled off her. "It's all I knew." He laughed and then said, "My parents were quiet people so the house was quiet too. Not like your house," he quipped. "I got a lot of attention. Mostly from my mom. My dad worked a lot, but when he was home, I didn't have to share him with anyone." He paused a second and then added, "They were old for parents. Like we would have been."

"Were you lonely?"

"Sometimes," he acknowledged. "Once in a while, I'd set up a board game for four and I'd play all the parts." She laughed out loud. "I had friends though." She wrinkled her nose in disbelief, teasing him. "I was probably spoiled, although my dad … he ran a tight ship. My mom, though …" Mac chuckled now. "I ran circles around her. And I did a lot of running around, especially as a teenager. More than I should have." He shook his head at the memories.

"Our baby would have been an only child. Probably anyway." Suddenly Christine asked, "Truth or dare?"

"Dare," Mac teased.

She reached her arms around his neck and pulled him over her. She kissed his mouth and ran her fingers through his hair. She brought her hand to his side, beneath his t-shirt, and slowly drew circles as she never let him go. Mac's breath caught as she kissed his neck and his hands skimmed her hips. She pulled back and Mac hesitated a moment. She said, "Take me away." Mac furrowed his brow and shook his head; he didn't understand. "On vacation. Somewhere. Anywhere."