A Forgotten Lullaby
Summary: This is based on the movie, the scene where Ray and his daughter Rachel hide at Harlan's place. The thoughts of Ray Ferrier as he watches over his daughter- what he didn't say to her when he admitted that he didn't know any lullabies. Sometimes, it takes a big ordeal such as an alien invasion to bring separated children closer to their fathers. Or is it a forgotten lullaby that he finally manages to sing?
I lifted my daughter and placed her on the couch. Her eyes were half-closed.
"You should try to get some sleep, sweetheart." She looked at me with wistful eyes, the expression she always had when she needed something.
"Do you think Mom's doing okay now?" She begged for something positive. So I tired to make something up, nothing too unrealistic.
"Yeah. I think she's doing alright. I think she's sitting at the big table at Grandma's house, and she's so worried about you that she can't sleep, and she can't wait to see you again. She's doing just fine."
She gave me a sad smile; but she hadn't lost hope. I smiled back to reassure her.
"Can you sing me a lullaby?"
"What do you want me to sing?" I hope it wasn't anything I didn't know.
"Hushaby Mountain," she said.
"Sorry, Rachel, I don't that one."
Sensing her disappointment, I sang something; anything that came to mind. She listened. At least it was something to quiet her raging mind.
I looked down at Rachel, her once clean face black with grime. Her eyes were now closed. It had been a long day for the both of us. Although I felt weary from trying to stay alive, I was not in the mood to go to sleep. Besides, I had my Rachel to look after. She was looking up to me.
I kissed her forehead. Since Marianne and I got divorced, I had forgotten how much I loved my daughter and my son, who was now lost from me. I felt a single tear roll down my cheek, which I wiped away in time to go unnoticed by Harlan.
Be strong, Ray. You can do this.
Being their father gave me an obligation to ensure my children's well-being, an obligation that had been ignored for a long time. Marianne remarried to some rich guy named Tim, not that I cared.
Were they doing all right?
Hell, they must be worried sick about us. No, I bet Marianne only misses Robbie and Rachel. Forget about the old Ray Ferrier. What do I tell Marianne about Robbie? That I let him go and get killed in an explosion? It could have been avoided if I hadn't let go of him, if I hadn't listened to him. She'll probably never talk to me again.
I got a grip, finally.
I'm a loser. No wonder she divorced me.
Yeah, a very big loser I was for not protecting our son. I buried my face in my hands, pretending to be asleep. I was so tired my eyes hurt. But sleep wouldn't come. Anxiety kept me awake. Things didn't need to be like this. I didn't need to be alone with my two kids on a few weekends every month, rarely during holidays.
Why is everything so messed up?
I don't remember what it was that made my wife divorce me. I just don't know what it was. Maybe she realized I was a loser when we fought over the silliest things. But doesn't every couple fight once in a while?
Maybe I wasn't the type of guy she considered to be her soul mate. Maybe we were too much in love to really think straight on anything. The result? Two gray-eyed, bright kids: Rachel taking on the looks of her mother, Robbie taking on the looks of his father. It was something I was to be proud of, I mean, fathering these two kids were my biggest pride.
Until Tim came along.
He just had to ruin everything, didn't he? Fourteen years of marriage forgotten, just like that.
No, don't blame the guy. It's really my fault. What's there to like about me, anyway? I'm irresponsible, I work as a construction worker for a living.
When did this happen? Just fourteen years ago, she was telling me I was the handsomest man in the world, how lucky she was to have found me. Now look at us, trying to hide from alien invaders, and she's hopefully doing the same.
So much for fourteen years.
I had to admit, I still loved my wife. After the divorce she and I have been…separated.
I looked down at Rachel again. I'm sorry I was a bad father to you. But don't you worry now, I'm going to be good. Daddy will always be there, baby.
At ten years old, she still was a baby, just entering her preteen years. It would be still a few more years until she was a teenager. Until then, I wanted to make the best of it. I brushed her curly blonde hair, realizing in a long time that she was my flesh, and that I loved her very, very much.
We'll see Mom again, Rachel. You can count on me.