And now for the second installment: "Dark Corners"
It's a companion piece to "Sharp Edges" and sort of falls "Here to Stay" and "Scars and Constellations". You read this one and "Sharp Edges" without having read the others and it would make sense…although you should go read the other two….if you have time.
Anyhow, this sets up the Christmas episode and then follows what happens after…sort of
Disclaimer: I own nothing at all.
"...But the ghosts that we knew made us black and all blue/ But we'll live a long life/ And the ghosts that we knew will flicker from view/ And we'll live a long life..." Mumford and Sons, "The Ghosts that we Knew"
"May you grow up to be righteous/ May you grow up to be true/May you always know the truth / And see the lights surrounding you/ May you always be courageous / Stand upright and be strong/ May you stay forever young..." Bob Dylan, "Forever Young"
September
Somehow, Monroe finds her the last peach pie of the season for her birthday even though she doesn't actually remember telling him that it's her favorite. They flip the sign in the front window from "open" to "closed" and eat the pie sitting at her work table in the back.
"So what was your favorite birthday?" He asks, passing the pie plate back to Rose.
Seventh, no question about it; her aunt and uncle took her to the zoo for the day. Henry set her on his shoulders to try to feed the giraffes. They waited patiently until she was done chasing the otters back and forth. Jeanette knelt down to help point out the bobcats hiding in their habitats. They lingered at the North American red fox exhibit for a long while. When it finally emerged from its den, Rosalee said its fur was as red at Jeanette's hair. And she laughed and laughed.
And for a day she pretended she belonged to them. And they were her real parents. Not that hers were terrible, they just always seemed busy with other things, with Freddie's grades and apprentice-ship at the shop and Deetta's general three-then-fourness. But Jeanette always had time. She always had a lap for sitting in and a silvery laugh put every one at ease.
"Uh...tenth. We went bowling." Rose rattles off before stuffing her face with more pie. "But this one is pretty good too." She smiles up at Monroe who smiles back.
They linger in the shop, sharing lazy kisses that taste like peaches and the last sunshine of summer. She tries to store it up as the days grow shorter and shorter and the golden autumn light starts falling through her windows. She'll need it before too long. His hand is firm on the small of her back and his arm tight against her waist. He's not going anywhere.
He doesn't seem to notice if her grip is a little tight or kiss too desperate. Or if he does, he doesn't say anything about it. Chalks it up to a job well done or birthday giddiness or just plain happiness.
October
October tenth. October freaking tenth. She just barely suppresses the urge to throw the remote at the TV as the jolly red commercial plays on. Rose settles for rolling her eyes so far back in her head that she's afraid that they'll get stuck like that for a moment. She'd only been happily ensconced at Monroe's a week and perhaps destroying his TV was not a great way to start this off. All the same, she's never been happier that he's out than right now.
Usually, come November 30th or so, she'd just turn off the TV all together until New Years'. It was just easier than trying to find something not related to the holidays at all.
Glowering at the TV still, she feels the all too familiar loneliness start to ache. A whole freaking month and a half sooner than it should have.
November
There's just one last box to get out of the living room and tomorrow is Thanksgiving. While Monroe's out doing the last bit of shopping, she digs through the box.
Suddenly, her fingers slide over a smooth curved surface. Rose frowns and shoves aside a bunch of crumbled newspaper and other knicknacks. Bringing up the small red and silver rose teacup, she folds her free hand over her mouth at the sight of it.
The Christmas when she was six, they brought her a tiny tea set, the cups and teapot and plates all embossed with red and silver roses. She and Jeanette spent hours examining each tiny detail under the Christmas tree lights while Freddie and Deetta were too busy chasing one another around the living room fighting over the caboose of Freddie's new train and their parents sat with Henry drinking coffee and chatting.
And then she remembered that as she was falling asleep in the nest of torn paper and empty boxes, Jeanette stroked her hair and whispered: "I wish you had been mine."
She runs her thumbs over the familiar embossed surface and tries not to cry. She'd thought for sure that the set had long since vanished in the moves and arguments and her long disappearance. She set it reverently aside and dug through the box looking for the rest of the set but the other pieces were no where to be found.
She picks it up again and holds it between her thumb and forefinger, like Jeanette used to when she came to have tea parties. But Rose's hands are so much bigger than Jeanette's were. Slowly, she lets her hand fall and holds the child's cup in both her palms.
The front door opens and shocks Rose out of her memories. "Hey, Hon?"
She wipes her face and swallows her tears. She stows the cup in her bag. "In here." She calls back and continues digging through the box. "I found one last box. Thought I should finish it up."
"Hey..." he appears. "You okay? Your eyes are all red."
"Just dust." She wipes at her eyes again. "I let it sit too long."
December
To say she was unprepared might have been the biggest understatement she ever thought. Never mind hating the growing number of Christmas commercials and other paraphernalia, she stumbled into a goddamn Christmas commercial for real in her own house.
All the lights suddenly made black spots at the edge of her vision. He asks her something and she vaguely answers, but is glad for his hand grasping hers, it helps hold her up.
She glimpses Jeanette's face in the illuminated angel's. The flash of red tinsel becomes the red in her hair. The choir's high-pitched note turns into Henry's laughter, but only when she or Freddie or Deetta did something so funny and he couldn't hold it in. And then she remembers her father's laugh, which was a rare sound only heard in abundance at Christmas.
The hole in her heart, the one that only opened up this time of year, fills up with that Christmas. The lights on the tree blurring until they made her dizzy, her mom falling down crying in the front hallway. Her father pulling her into his arms. Deetta's tiny clammy hand in hers. Freddie looking lost for the first time that she can remember.
"Rosalee..." He pleads. "Talk to me."
She swallows hard and gives him the story with a little detail as possible, like ripping a band-aid off.
"You never told me."
"I...I should have... " But there are no words that she knows of to even begin to explain Jeanette and Henry and how much they loved her? How could she show him that moment fifteen years ago when her mother finally explained that Jeanette couldn't have children of her own?
I wish you had been mine.
And it's why she tucks this whole bit into a dark corner; the ache and the hurt leaks from this open wound until it touches every inch of her life. She's torn between taking his face between her palms and running as far as possible to save him from anymore of this. He's so...good and—
"Please..."
"I hate that I'm ruining your celebration." She gave the room one last glance. "It's really really...fantastic." And retreats before she falls apart entirely in front of him.
The only oasis is the bedroom and she pauses in the very center, breathing deeply until the tears subside and the ache in the back of her throat disappears. Thankful he's given her a moment to collect her thoughts, she pulls the little red and silver teacup out of her bag and lets it rest in her palms.
"You know it was me who named you?" Jeanette whispered on that last Christmas they had together. "Your mother wanted to name you 'Lilly' after your great grandmother. And I told her you didn't look like a 'Lilly' at all." Jeanette tapped each of Rose's cheeks. "You screamed and screamed and screamed until I got to hold you and I said that they should name you 'Rosalee' —you had tiny roses from the start."
Her six year-old self held out the teacup and echoed: "Tiny roses."
"Exactly."
Rose is so absorbed in turning the tea cup over and over between her hands that she doesn't even hear him come in. It isn't until he sits next to her on the bed, that she looks up.
He only offers a sad smile.
"It was the last Christmas present they gave me." She holds it out to him. And the cup seems even tinier than when he holds it. "I had a whole set..."
"What happened to it?"
She shrugs. "I don't know." Heaving a small sigh, she curls her hand around the crook of his elbow. "Hey... I'm sorry about–"
"Nothing to be sorry for: I just wish I'd known before I –ruined..."
"You didn't. You can't ruin an already ruined holiday."
"I thought Fuschbau were good liars."
"No, I've been grumpy since Thanksgiving. Since I found that." She taps the tiny cup in his hand. "Of all the people you could have picked..." she mutters.
"Hey...hey...we'll figure this out." He holds the teacup out to her.
She nods and set the cup on her side. "I think I'm just going to go to bed. I...just had a really long day and..."
He nods and gets up. Just as he's about to leave the room, he looks back. "I love you," he offers to her quietly, like it's a confession.
She gives him a smile like a benediction. "I love you, too."
January
"Are you okay to do this?" He asks again as they pull into the Fremont Cemetery Parking lot.
She thumbs at the tiger lilies' cut stems. "I haven't visited since I've been back. I should."
He looks over at her. "And you're sure you want me to come?"
"They were very special to me." She reaches over and covers his hand with hers. His eyes meet hers with a small smile. "So, yes."
It snowed last night, only an inch or so but it ensured empty streets even as it was melting. Still their breath fogs before them as they walk.
She remembers the funeral all to well. It was only the day after New Years and her new Mary Janes were too cold on her stocking feet; they pinched and left little blue and purple crescent marks all over her toes and heels. She tried to tell her mother but she didn't seem to hear.
During the wake, everyone dropped off casseroles that she didn't want to eat, wanted to hug her and say how much she looked like Jeanette. And that Jeanette was looking down on her, as if she didn't do that in life.
Confused, Deetta cried all day, so much so she ran out of tears around two and then promptly fell asleep in a pile of coats in the front hall. Freddie just followed their father around, frowning. When she couldn't take it anymore, Rosalee disappeared into her closet, took off her Mary Janes and hid there, clutching one of her red and silver teacup between her palms until she too fell asleep.
"I don't remember much of that year." She says as they walk. "Just that the house was so quiet for so long afterward."
Once they reach the double headstone, Rose stops a good two feet away, clutching the flowers to her chest for a moment. She does the math with their birth and death dates, their ages making her sad again.
"They didn't get see us grow up." Rose says quietly. "They didn't see Freddie take over the business or...watch me fall off the map-"
"Or get back on the map," he insists.
"Or get back on the map..." she repeats. "They weren't there for my mother when she needed them...There's so much they've missed. So much they're going to miss..."
Not a word from him will make it stop, so he waits.
With measured footsteps, she walks to the headstone and lays a gentle hand on the top. She lays the flowers in the center, between their names and steps back.
"They would have liked you right away." Rose mutters and slips her fingers into his.
"You think?"
"No doubt. She was always sort of...unconventional..."
"Well, at least I've got one on my side." His arm loops around her waist.
Last one to be up in the next week or so. I've written most of it out and everything but it needs a serious edit. Anywho,
R&R?