This story came to me about two months ago when I was visiting friends in Nashville. Unfamiliar with the city, I made a wrong turn and found myself on the east side of town. Hungry, I too, went to the Waffle House where I met the four characters who inspired this story. I don't remember their names, but I will never forget how welcome they made me feel. This story is dedicated to them.
Song prompt: "Nature Boy" by Nat "King" Cole
Thanks to Tracia and Matty who keep believing in me for some unknown reason. I don't get it, but I don't know what I would do without you.
Nature Boy
I don't want children. Ever!
Two hours after storming out of the house, the words still rang in Dave Rossi's ears. Harsh. Brutal. And the truth…to a point. Maybe he shouldn't have been so blunt. Yes, once upon a time he had wanted children - as many as the good Lord was willing to give to him. But as the ex-wives came and went, and the years passed by - slow at first…now they sped by at the speed of light - he had given up the dream of ever holding his flesh and blood.
Over the years he had tried to patch his broken heart as he realized that he would never have a little girl to love and adore. He wanted to hear her say "Daddy" as she laid her head on his shoulder while they danced. He wanted to worry over make-up and heels before he thought she was ready. And vet her boyfriends as they asked permission to take his princess out. He wanted to see their face as he pulled back his jacket to reveal his side arm. He wanted to argue about wedding costs and being there when the first grandchild arrived on the scene. The grandchild he would never know.
Then there was his boy. His son. The chip off the old block. How he wanted a son to teach all the secret things men knew. He wanted a buddy and a pal - someone he could take to ball games and teach to throw a ball in the backyard. Or even pitch a tent in the backyard under the stars. His daydreams had taken them to weekend getaways to the cabin where they spent all day learning to spit and catching fish. He wanted someone to follow in his shoes.
He was destined to be the last Rossi. The lineage that had followed thru for four hundred years ended the day the doctor revealed that his sperm count was low…or in better terms: he would win the New York Lottery before he fathered a child. And he could have lived with that…until the stick turned blue.
Ashley had been so happy when she showed him the pregnancy test. The tears in her eyes showed her joy as she waited for his response. But he had remained quiet…speechless was more like it, as he stared at the thin white stick that had forever changed his future. He didn't know what to say as his heart dropped into his stomach. He wanted to believe…he had to believe that the moment was real; he just needed a few more minutes to let it sink in.
Then she asked him what he was thinking. Thinking? Was she serious? So, he said the first thing that came to mind: it was a joke - it had to be a joke. Her joy had turned to shock as his words sunk in. She had sputtered that it wasn't a joke; wasn't he happy? Now their dreams were coming true.
Dream come true? He threw back at her angrily, what was happening was not a dream come true; it was fate playing a cruel joke on him. He grabbed his jacket and keys and headed toward the door. He had to get out of there. As he walked out, he threw over his shoulder that he didn't want children…ever!
As he drove on without direction, it dawned on him that he didn't know anymore what he wanted. Everything he had thought he wanted - marriage and children - never materialized. Until Ashley Seaver showed up. Now that it was all finally happening, he was ready to chuck it all. Running a hand over his eyes, he tried to gather his thoughts. Deep down inside he knew he didn't have what it took to raise a child. Not anymore. He needed a miracle.
Or anything that could take his mind off of the blue tear filled eyes that kept haunting him. He hadn't wanted to make her cry, but… He slammed his hand against the steering wheel in frustration and bit off an Italian epitaph. Why did life have to be so unfair? Even three years ago a child would have been a blessing, but now? Hell, he was grateful for each day he could still get out of bed. How was he going to do this everyday for a kid?
He shook his head. What was the definition of irony? When a fictional movie mirrored his life. He laughed at Steve Martin's character in "Father of The Bride II" when he grumbled and groaned about fatherhood so late in life. "One child. Two Seniors. Thank you." Seemed so hilarious. He chuckled every time he saw it. Now he was going to burn the movie when he got home. It wasn't funny; it was his life for crying out loud!
Looking at the clock on the dash, he realized that over two hours had passed since he had stormed out of the house and into the night. He needed someone to talk to - someone he could just dump on without feeling like he was an idiot. He wondered if Hotch was home. Picking up the phone, he dialed, but it went directly to voice mail.
"God," he prayed, "I just need an answer…something." He sure hoped the Guy Upstairs was listening, because the next call was to Father Jimmy, and that was a talk he wasn't looking forward to. He would rather a lecture or a rant, than a calm "Well, Davy, you know what your gut is telling you, so follow it." He didn't want a gut feeling, he wanted an answer to a prayer, dammit!
Looking out the windshield into the night, he watched as the signs passed by. Maybe he could get a hotel room or go to the cabin. Or he could pull over and get gas…his spirit wasn't the only thing running on fumes.
His stomach rumbled loudly in response. Or maybe food. Then he would look for an answer. Pulling into the parking lot of the Waffle House, he looked at the nearly empty restaurant. It wasn't his normal hang out, but he didn't want normal right now. He just wanted…peace and quiet.