Push In The Right Direction
He'd been there for hours, and she knew it,
It was when she first stepped into the room that she knew it. She didn't have to skirt around the idea, or sit there contemplating how long he'd been there. She didn't have to guess. She didn't have to estimate. One look at the clock told her that it was five hours and twenty-two minutes since he had arrived home, and she knew that he hadn't moved from that spot since.
She knew, because he was hunched over now. Clearly, from his position, he'd once been standing up, his hands lightly resting on the rail before him as if he didn't need it for support, but now he was holding his whole body weight against the rail, his legs further back as he leaned forwards over it slightly. It was the sort of position that would leave him stretching out cricks in his back for hours, and it would probably make that horrible, sickening crack that she hated when he first stood straight.
She knew, because his hands were still. Usually when he stood still, his hands would twist and turn, his fingers would wriggle, or he'd look like he was giving himself a thumb war. It was his natural energy. She'd never once known him to be calm, other than moments like this one. His hands were still, void of their energy because he felt so drained, but at the same time, she couldn't help but wonder if he had ever felt more alive than he probably did at that moment.
She knew, because he sighed every so often. It was as if he was more sighing than breathing, and she knew that was a sign of the exhausted he was no doubt feeling. He was showing it, of course. But his sighs were not helpless, or restless…they were content; they showed her that he would stand in that position for hours, just silent, just watching…just being there.
She knew, because his lips were slightly parted. Usually, the only time his lips were parted unintentionally was when his jaw was hanging open in shock; something that didn't happen very often considering it took a lot just to mildly surprise him. His lips were always tightly pursed, either through determination, or anger, or even concentration. This time, he wasn't hanging his jaw, though. He was in awe, to be sure, but not in shock.
She knew, because his eyes were drooping. She remembered many a time when she'd entered a room and seen his eyelids drooping, knowing that he was just about to fall asleep on his feet. Now, however, there was a reason to keep him from dropping off. Despite the dark circles forming underneath his eyes, he wasn't going to move. He had no intention of moving from that spot. He had no intention of giving in to the eyelids that felt heavier and heavier with each passing moment. No. No matter how slow and sluggish blinking became, he wanted to remain away for as long as possible.
She knew, because she'd seen him resist sleep before.
But not for this.
She stepped closer into the room, coming to stand beside him. As she predicted, he didn't even notice she was in the room with him until she nudged his shoulder gently. He snapped up, the awful crack sounding from his back. He winced at the sensation and then smiled at her.
"Hey, Sue," he smiled, not letting his eyes drift to her for long before returning his eyes to the spot that they'd been in before.
"Hey," she replied softly. She noticed the softness in his eyes, and was amazed at it. She'd never seen him with that emotion before. Of course, he wasn't one to completely shut off from the world, but there was a protectiveness there that had never been there before. However, it didn't serve to hide his exhaustion. "You look exhausted," she pointed out.
"I am exhausted," he replied simply, half-laughing at her correct assumption, but still never raising his eyes to her.
"Wouldn't going to bed be a good idea then?" She pointed out to him.
He shook his head. "No, I'm good here," he told her.
She resisted the temptation to roll her eyes, but her understanding forbid her from it. She understood the need to remain where he was, to keep looking, to keep watching, no matter how much sleep dragged. "Nothing's going to happen if you go to sleep," she reminded.
"I know that," he nodded. "I just…I like watching."
She smiled at him. "Mind if I join you, then?"
He smiled back at her, lifting his eyes for a moment before dropping them once more. "Of course not."
She followed his eyes, not needing to think twice about the object of their watchful gaze. It was no doubt fixed upon the two day old child in the crib. This, she knew, was the reason; the reason he'd leaned against the railing for so long, the reason his hands were still, the reason he'd sighed so contently, the reason his lips were so slightly parted and that his eyelids were so weighted. This was the reason for his protection and his gentleness. The child, a son, had his eyes. She knew that when she'd looked into them earlier. Beautiful eyes for a child to be born with.
But now, she realised that underneath the protection and softness in his eyes, there was a helplessness. As he looked down at his son, there was a far-off look on his eyes, one that begged for help, for a push in the right direction. She turned her eyes to him, knowing that he probably wasn't going to return her gaze.
"You'll be a good father," she assured him, giving him her most confident smile. "It'll all be okay."
"No, it won't," he shook his head, looking down sadly at his two-day-old son.
"It will be," she said strongly.
"How can it be?" He asked her helplessly.
She put her arm around his shoulder. "Because you're still here."
"And that's enough?" He questioned doubtfully.
She nodded. "It's enough for him," she told him, looking down at the baby once again,
And finally, he looked up at her. He met her gaze, and there was a pain that hadn't been there for a long time. A pain that recalled horrific memories of being eleven years old and missing a mother suddenly. A pain that, for him, was about to become all too repetitive.
"Sue, I get that you're my sister and all, and that making me feel better is like, your job, or something, but I lost my wife. My wife. Now, I've gotta raise my kid all by myself because she's not here, and I haven't got anyone to tell me what to do, or help me out. I've gotta explain to that kid why his mom ain't here, and right now, I'm not sure that's something I can do."
And then he left. Clearly, exhaustion had taken its toll, and he left the room, leaving her alone with the child.
She sighed, looking down at the child. She hadn't expected things to turn out this way. She hadn't even imagined that her brother might end up a widow to birth complications. She wouldn't have believed anyone who could have told her that her nephew would have to grow up without a mother. No, things weren't meant to be this way.
And so, Sue sighed again, leaning down and placing a kiss on the baby boy's head, before leaving the room and turning out the light.
Johnny wasn't going to be a bad father, he just needed a push in the right direction.