In Loving Memory
A/N: Just a short story inspired by the fact that we celebrated a Special Day here in Ireland yesterday. I hope you gain as much enjoyment from it as I had writing it.
The gold Porsche turned the corner slowly and pulled up to a stop on Union Street. Steve turned off the engine and sat back wearily in the driver's seat. He took off his sunglasses and flung them onto the dash and rubbed at his tired eyes and at the bridge of his nose with his right hand and sighed heavily. It had been one hell of a day and he was feeling the exhaustion in every sore, aching muscle of his body. It had been a busy week in work with many late nights and one all nighter. His tired brain couldn't even remember the last time he had enjoyed a full and restful night's sleep. It had been almost midnight when Mike had dropped him home last night under strict orders to get a good night's sleep and to enjoy his long awaited two days off starting the following day.
"You look like hell on earth Buddy boy. Take it easy tomorrow will you? Get some sleep! You've more than earned your downtime. Call me tomorrow. Ok, hotshot?"
Steve smiled as he remembered Mike's parting words the previous night. He had almost felt too exhausted to even answer. He had nodded at his partner, telling him to enjoy his two days off too, especially as Jeannie was home for the two days as well and then he had waved him off and headed up to his apartment. He had gone straight to bed but sleep had alluded him. He was feeling dreadfully over tired and his shoulder muscles had felt like they were tied in knots. No matter what position he had tried to change into, he still couldn't get comfortable. His mind kept racing. He had plans for the next day but he hadn't shared them with Mike. He knew Mike had his own plans with Jeannie and he hadn't wanted to bother him with his. It was something he had felt the need to do on his own, for the day that was in it, but he knew it was going to be rough and he had wished that he could at least get some sleep to help him cope better with it.
Eventually he had given up and padded out to the kitchen at three am to make coffee, strong and black. He had turned on the television and found some obscure, black and white film on one of the channels and eventually he had fallen asleep sometime after four thirty in front of it. That's where he had woken up, with a decided crick in his neck at eight am and instantly regretted his poor choice of sleeping position. He had then showered, changed clothes and grabbed a piece of toast washed down with more strong coffee before locking up and heading off for the day at nine am.
The drive on the Golden State Freeway had been long, tedious and boring and even the radio hadn't helped break the monotony. It had been a hot and sweltering day and he had stopped along the way to fill up the gas tank, remove his jacket and grab a cold can of soda and a sandwich for later. It had been almost eleven am or after when he had arrived at his destination and he hadn't been quite as prepared as he had hoped he would be, for the sight that had met his eyes. He had remained there all afternoon but it had proved to be harder work than he had imagined especially during the hottest part of the day. In actual fact he hadn't half the tools with him that he had needed and ended up using his bare hands for most of the time. It was after four pm when he had finally been satisfied with his efforts and after an emotional few minutes, he had packed up his stuff back into the car and headed for home. The long drive back home again had almost proved hazardous. His back was aching and his muscles sore. His arms were cut in various places, his left hand was blistered and cut and he was way beyond what would qualify as exhausted. A couple of times he had almost felt himself about to nod off at the wheel and so eventually he had opened the driver's window fully so that the strong evening breeze would keep him awake. Now as he pulled up outside his apartment close to six pm he felt relieved and glad that he had at least made the journey as he had wanted to and had managed to return in one piece. While he was tired and sore, he was also pleased with himself for what he had achieved and the pain and tiredness felt strangely worthwhile but now all he wanted was to sleep for however long he was able to.
He sat quietly for several minutes, his head resting on the back of his seat, his thoughts many miles away, trying to motivate his aching muscles to move and get him out of the car and up the many steps to his apartment. Eventually he made a renewed effort and grabbed the driver's door handle and hissed as he forgot about his sore left hand. He pulled it back and cursed the tiredness that had made him forget about it, as the palm of his hand throbbed and stung. He shook it and reached over and opened the door will his right hand instead and groaned as he exited the car as his lower back protested the move.
He moved slowly and gingerly towards the steps and then ascended them carefully. Removing his mud covered boots in the hallway he then threw his car keys on the hall table and then reached down and took the phone off the hook. After all he didn't want any unnecessary interruptions. He headed for the bedroom, discarding his jacket along the way and draping it over the chair at the end of his bed before collapsing face first down onto the bed, allowing gravity to assist him. Burrowing his tired face into the pillow he felt the exhaustion take over and this time within seconds he was sleeping soundly.
Over in De Haro Street, Mike was standing in the hall with the phone receiver up to his ear while Jeannie was busy making dinner in the kitchen. It was almost six thirty and dinner was not far from being ready. She came out wiping her hands on her apron as she heard Mike slamming down the phone and mumbling something under his breath.
"Still no luck?"
"NO! Now I'm getting an engaged tone! All day it's just been ringing out and now it's engaged. What's the boy up to? Why isn't he answering the phone?"
"Mike, maybe he went out for the day or ... maybe he has company ... I'm sure he's fine. Look you've tried to invite him over for dinner but maybe he just wants to be left alone. You said yourself it's been a tough week for the two of you. Maybe he just needs some downtime to himself. "
"Maybe but ... what if he's not well? You know he looked like hell last night. Something was bothering him. I could tell but as usual he wasn't talking about whatever it was that was chewing on him. Maybe I should go over and check on him, what do you think?"
Jeannie shook her head in exasperation and then smiled.
"I think you're not going to be able to enjoy your pot roast dinner until you know he's alright ... That's what I think. So go on, go ahead. I'll have it ready when you get back and just in case Steve decides to join us I'll set another place at the table."
Mike smiled warmly and striding towards his daughter, he grabbed her into a fatherly hug.
"You know I'm a very lucky man to have such a beautiful, wonderful, understanding daughter as you. Do you know that?"
Jeannie smiled and hugged him back.
"Yes and don't you forget it" she replied teasingly. "Now go on. Check on Steve and don't forget to tell him there's home-made apple pie for dessert. That's his favorite."
"Well if your apple pie doesn't get him back here then nothing will ..." Mike replied playfully and grabbing his fedora and coat he opened the drawer to the hall table and pocketed Steve's spare apartment keys just in case before quickly heading out the door.
As he sat into the brown LTD, he waved up at Jeannie standing in the doorway and then drove off in the direction of Union Street. As soon as he did his smile faded and he frowned. He had a bad feeling in the pit of his stomach and couldn't explain why. It was not like Steve to be unreachable for an entire day and Mike was secretly worried. He wouldn't be happy until he knew the young man was ok.
Arriving quickly at Union Street at just six forty pm Mike saw the familiar Porsche parked outside and felt even more concerned. If Steve was home why wasn't he answering his phone? He parked right behind the Porsche and noted curiously as he got out that the wheels of the Porsche were caked with mud. Mike hurried up the steps to Steve's apartment and rapped on the front door. Receiving no answer he knocked louder a second time. Still no answer came. Mike was getting agitated. Even if the young man had put his phone in his refrigerator as he did on a regular basis if he was entertaining company, he would still have heard the numerous knocks on his door. He leaned sideways and peered through the living room window but saw no sign of life within. He knocked a third time even louder and as the third knock remained unanswered he lost patience and reaching into his trouser pocket he retrieved Steve's door key and let himself in.
The Hall was empty as he entered and the first thing he noticed were the muddy boots that lay discarded on the floor. The second thing he noticed was the phone off the hook and he glared at it as he put it back on the cradle.
"Steve? You home?" Mike called out as he took a quick glance into the living room and then the small kitchen at the back.
With no sign of Steve, Mike headed for the small bedroom at the end of the hall and pushing open the door slowly he squinted into the darkened room. The curtains appeared to be drawn and yet after a few seconds, as his eyes adjusted better to the dark, Mike could make out Steve's form, face down on the bed. His heart sank and he rushed forward and raced around to the side of the bed. Placing a hand on the young man's back he called out with worry practically dripping from his voice.
"STEVE? ..."
Steve was in a deep, exhaustion fueled sleep but the feel of a hand on his back and the sudden shouted name roused him abruptly and he startled as he suddenly felt another unknown presence beside him. He turned quickly and frantically swatted at the hand that touched him as Mike called out again in a reassuring tone.
"Steve, it's Mike! Take it easy. You're ok ..."
Realizing it was only Mike, Steve slumped back against the pillow on his back now, his heart racing and his breathing heavy.
"GOD MIKE! You scared the hell out of me. What ... What are you doing here? I ... I wasn't expecting you ..."
Mike was both grateful that Steve was alright and embarrassed at startling the young man so badly, all at the same time.
"I'm sorry Buddy Boy but I've been trying to reach you all day ... Your phone kept ringing out and then I was getting an engaged tone. I came over to check on you and I knocked loudly THREE times but you didn't answer. I was worried that something was wrong so I used your spare key and let myself in ... "
Steve couldn't believe he hadn't woken when Mike had knocked . Mike's knocks always woke him before. He figured he must have been more tired than he thought. Trying desperately to regain his composure after the recent scare and to shake off the sleep that was still clouding his mind, he rubbed his right hand through his hair and over his face and spoke drowsily.
"Sorry Mike ... I ah ... I was asleep... I didn't hear you knock ..."
"Well I could SEE that ... You were out for the count ... Have you been asleep like that all day?"
"No ... No I was out today. What ... What time is it?"
The darkened room was confusing him and still feeling disoriented from the deep sleep he had been rudely awoken from, he waited as Mike squinted at his wrist watch and answered him.
"It's ten to seven in the evening ..."
"I ... I was only home at six ... I was really tired so I went straight to bed ..."
"Steve, where were you today?"
Steve swallowed hard at that question. He had hoped Mike wouldn't ask that but realized at the same time, that he should have known better. As his breathing finally settled back to its normal rhythm and his heart rate slowed again, Steve didn't answer straight away. He pulled himself up into a sitting position, now propped back up against the headboard, purposefully masking the wince that the movement caused to his aching back but unable to bite back the hiss of pain as he had unwittingly used his sore hand to move himself up in the bed.
Mike heard and saw him favoring his left hand just afterwards and spoke firmly.
"Steve? ... What's wrong with your left hand?"
Steve frowned and cursed his momentary lapse and answered sheepishly.
"Nothing ... Nothing's wrong with it Mike ..."
But Mike used Steve's obvious lack of alertness to his advantage and reaching out he grabbed Steve's left wrist and with the other hand turned on the lamp on the bedside locker. While the sudden brightness made Steve flinch and close his eyes briefly, Mike took advantage a second time and pulled Steve's hand over towards the light.
"Mike ... STOP ..."
Steve tried to pull his hand away but Mike held it firm. The lamplight revealed several nasty blisters on the palm of Steve's hand alongside several scraping cuts.
"STEVE! Does that look like nothing to you? WELL? Does it? ... What caused that?"
Steve didn't answer and Mike's frustration grew.
"Damn it Steve, for the last time, where were you today?"
Steve sighed and conceded defeat. After all, there was nothing to be gained from lying.
"I ah ... I drove to Modesto ..."
Steve's answer stunned Mike and he let go of Steve's wrist.
"Modesto? What? There and back in the one day?"
"Yeah ... Well it was just a two hour journey there and a two hour journey back and besides I ... I didn't want to stay there overnight ..."
As Mike thought of what would have brought the young man back to his home town of Modesto, the pieces of the puzzle suddenly fell together. Of course! How could he not have guessed before this. The day that was in it. The distracted demeanor of the younger man last night and the muddy boots and car wheels. Now things finally made a bit of sense. He studied Steve in the now brighter lamplight, watching for any subtle give away changes in the young man's facial expression as he spoke.
"Ah! Now I see ... Mother's Day, huh? Is that what brought you back there?"
Steve's face visibly fell and his face saddened briefly.
"Yeah ... yeah I've been meaning to go back and visit their grave for quite a while now, but I never seemed to get the opportunity to. So with today being what it was and listening to you and Jeannie planning your trip to Helen's grave and having the two days off, I just thought I'd go for it. You know?"
There was something very somber in Steve's tone that made Mike feel that he had to tread very carefully.
"Sure ... I understand ... How ... how did it go? Did you get to it?"
"Yeah ... I did but ... Well like I said I haven't been back to visit it for a very long time and it took me a while to find it but ... When I did ... it was ... It was all overgrown Mike ... more than I thought it would be. I mean I thought someone would have visited it since ..."
As Steve's sentence remained unfinished, Mike again chose his words carefully, hearing the upset between the lines despite Steve's usual attempts to sound normal.
"That bad huh?"
Steve nodded.
"Yeah ... there were weeds and brambles all over it ... and the headstone was all mossy and the writing on it was starting to fade ... It looked like ... a grave of someone ... nobody cared about Mike ... I ... I had to fix it up."
Mike swallowed hard at the depth of grief that was struggling to be heard in the young man's voice.
"So what did you do Steve?"
"Well I'd brought some plants and a couple of things to put on it but I never thought it would be that bad so I didn't really have the proper tools I would have needed ..."
Mike began to understand even more clearly what had happened to Steve's hand but inwardly he almost hoped he was wrong.
"Steve, tell me you didn't use your bare hands to clear those weeds?"
Steve looked dolefully up at Mike, his earlier exhaustion returning rapidly considering the short amount of time he had slept before Mike had arrived. He merely nodded and looked shamefully down at the hand that now lay curled on his lap.
"Steve? ... Why? I mean ... Why didn't you just come home and go back another day with what you needed, huh? And why didn't you tell me you were going there in the first place. I mean me and Jeannie could have gone with you and helped you ..."
Steve looked back up and shrugged his aching shoulders.
"I don't know Mike. I can't really explain it. I just saw it so neglected and ... and I knew I couldn't just leave it like that .. not on Mother's Day. And I didn't tell you because ... because I know that you and Jeannie have your own special things you do on Mother's Day every year to remember Helen and I didn't want to interfere with that ..."
Mike sighed and reaching out he ruffled Steve's hair as he spoke in frustration.
"What am I going to do with you Buddy boy, huh? "
That made Steve smile.
Mike thought about Steve trying to fix the long since abandoned grave all by himself in the heat of the day, back in Modesto and a lump appeared in his throat. He swallowed it back down and sighed again, wondering what he should say next. Eventually deciding on his next question he spoke up again.
"Did you get it fixed up?"
Another smile lit up Steve's exhausted and pale face.
"Yeah ... Yeah, pretty much. It took me all afternoon though. But it was worth it. I might need to go back and do a little more work on it at some stage though ..."
Mike studied Steve more closely and saw the depth of the young man's exhaustion. He had been fit to drop last night when he had dropped him home and frowned as he thought of him making the tiring drive back from Modesto on his own in that state.
"You look exhausted Steve. Did you at least get some sleep last night before you set out this morning?"
Steve rubbed his face again and stifled a yawn before looking away sheepishly.
"No not much ... But worse than that now I've got aches in muscles where I didn't even know I had muscles ..."
"Well I'm not really surprised if that's what you've been up to all day. " Mike responded and then clapped his hands together unexpectedly as he decided on his next plan of action.
"Well ... The reason I have been trying to reach you all day is that Jeannie is cooking a pot roast dinner and you my friend were invited ... So come on, get up and get yourself ready and while you're at it grab an overnight bag."
While Jeannie's home cooking always tempted him, this evening Steve felt too tired, sore and sorry for himself to be anything remotely resembling good company.
"Aw no Mike! Listen ..."
" ... And don't start with the "no Mikes". I know you, remember? I'll bet you haven't even had dinner yet today. Well am I right?"
Steve flustered at the awkward question.
"Well ... No, not exactly but ..."
"SEE! I told you ... " Mike interrupted.
"BUT ... I did have a sandwich earlier and toast this morning ..."
"Oh I see! Toast huh? And a WHOLE sandwich after a long afternoon's hard labor. Well no wonder you're not hungry ..." Mike added sarcastically and Steve knew he'd immediately lost the argument.
"Now are you going to get up yourself or do you need help?"
Steve scowled and moving gingerly, he swung his legs off the bed and placed his feet on the floor, groaning slightly as the stiff muscles in his back twinged from the movement. Mike placed a steadying hand on his elbow.
"Whoa now. Take it easy. You really are sore, aren't you? Boy, you know you're going to feel that even worse in the morning. Do you have any heat rub?"
Rubbing at his back, Steve scowled again and answered in a pained voice.
"No ... I don't think so."
Mike smiled.
"Well then your luck is about to change because at MY age, you always keep a steady supply of the stuff. Just you wait and see. I bet you haven't put anything on those blisters either huh?"
Steve looked down at the floor and shook his head.
"Let's see the other hand ..."
Steve opened his mouth to protest but was met by the Stone glare so he proffered the right hand without further comment.
"That one's not so bad but I've cleared plenty of brambles in my time and my guess is your hands aren't the only place cut to ribbons. Arms too? Or do I have to check your shirt sleeves for signs of rips or bloodstains?"
Steve sighed heavily. Mike was now in full nursemaid mode and his need to just sleep seemed to be getting further pushed into the distance.
"Just a few grazes Mike ... That's all ... It's no big deal ..."
"Uh huh ... Ok ... You better stay where you are for now. I'LL get your bag. Where is it?"
"In the bottom of the closet ..."
Steve was just too tired to argue and anyway the sooner he gave in to Mike's plan, the sooner he would get to just sleep ..."
Mike stood up and headed for the closet and spent the next few minutes, gathering up some clothes, toiletries and things that Steve would need for an overnight stay. As he worked, he continued the conversation.
"We'll go back to my place, have a nice meal and then we'll sort out your cuts and muscle aches and then you can get some sleep in the spare room. And then seeing as we still have tomorrow off maybe the three of us could use the leftovers from this evening and go for a picnic to the Golden Gate Park? How does that sound Buddy Boy?"
"Yeah ... Sounds terrific Mike ..." Steve answered trying to sound enthusiastic but failing miserably as he thought about his earlier trip and reaching over he picked up the old photograph that had been on his bedside locker.
He stared at the photo sadly as he sat on the edge of the bed. Mike had heard the forced enthusiasm and having zipped up the bag, he walked back towards his partner and looking over the young man's shoulders he saw the photo in his hand and the way he was looking at it. Sitting down next to him, he spoke warmly.
"What's that you've got there? Are they your folks?"
Steve nodded.
"May I see? ..." Mike asked cautiously, not meaning to intrude but curious none the less.
Steve handed him the picture but didn't take his own eyes off it all the while.
Mike smiled.
"Your Mother was really beautiful. You ... have her eyes you know? "
Steve half smiled and looked at Mike.
"You think?"
"Absolutely ... But you definitely have your Father's chin ... " he added playfully grabbing the back of Steve's neck as he did but being extra careful so as not to tweak any sore muscles at the same time and handing him back the quite obviously treasured photo.
"Mike? "
"What?"
Steve looked reluctant to ask his question but after several seconds he seemed to garner the courage he needed and continued.
"Do you think ... Well .. Do you think she'd know what I did today? I mean ... I'd hate her to think that I didn't care ... you know?"
Mike patted Steve's shoulder gently and answered.
"You? Not care? Now when does that ever happen, huh?"
Steve smiled at the answer but then grew serious again quickly.
"You know what I mean Mike ..."
"Yes ... I know what you mean and ... Well it's kind of impossible to say for sure but for what it's worth, when I go to Helen's grave just like we did today and fix it up and put nice roses on it, then ... I feel that she knows. It's just a feeling mind you but ... I think she does ... so in answer to your question. Yes ...I think she'd know and be proud of you for it. HOWEVER, that being said I think she'd be equally as concerned about the blistered hand and sore muscles as I am. Next time let me come and help you will you? Or at the very least bring some strong gardening gloves, OK?"
Steve seemed happy with Mike's answer and nodded gratefully
"Alright ... I will ... "
But then Mike saw a brief dark expression cross Steve's face,
"You know, on days like today especially I ... I really miss them Mike ..."
Mike squeezed the young man's shoulder soothingly.
"I know ... Days like today are hard for all of us who have lost someone special but you have to remember something important Buddy boy. It's good to keep their graves nice and neat and tidy as a memorial but well ... I don't believe their spirits are truly there anymore. I think we carry them instead here ... and here ... With us all the time."Mike said pointing to Steve's heart and his temple.
Steve liked that idea and smiled again warmly.
" Yeah, yeah I think you're right Mike ..."
"Ok now come on. Jeannie's at home waiting and the dinner will be ready and ... Oh by the way ... Did I mention the fact that there's home-made apple pie for dessert too?"
Steve's face brightened considerably and his stomach started to grumble. Jeannie made the best apple pie he had ever tasted and actually he WAS feeling quite hungry now that he thought about it. He got up gingerly, still holding the picture and headed out of the room, closely shadowed by Mike who frowned at the pained movements and sleepy walk of the young man. When they got towards the front door and Mike opened it, Steve suddenly remembered the photo that was still in his hand and stopped briefly.
"Mike, you go down to the car. I'll follow you down. I just have something I need to do first. Ok?"
Mike studied Steve and wondered if he'd be alright making his way down the steps to the car in his current state.
"You sure you can manage?"
"YES ... I'm sure Mike ... I won't be a minute. "
"Ok ... But don't be long ... The mashed potatoes will be cold and there's nothing I hate more than COLD mashed potatoes!" Mike grumbled as he then turned and headed out the door and down to the car.
Steve smiled at Mike's comment and then walked stiffly into the living room. He looked down at the picture in his hand and then placed it up on the mantelpiece. He reached into his trousers pocket and pulled out a small rose bud that had fallen off one of the plants from earlier. It was a deep pink colour and despite the drive back and the place he had kept it in, it still looked so perfect and pristine. He placed it in front of the picture and trailed a finger down the photo where the figure of his Mother stood and he smiled lovingly, as a tear threatened to form.
"Happy Mother's Day Mom ... I love you ..."
A booming voice from outside spoiled the tender moment as Mike's voice broke the silence.
"STEVE? Hurry up will you. I'm STARVING down here ..."
Steve laughed and made his way gingerly back to the doorway where he cast one quick look back at the picture before calling out to Mike as he exited the front door, locking it behind him.
"Ok, ok Mike ... I'm COMING! "
As he made his way down the steps gingerly towards the car, he mentally prepared himself for the intense fussing he knew lay ahead but also felt strangely blessed to have ever met Mike and Jeannie Stone and realized how empty and lonely his life would be without them.
THE END