Hello everybody!
I wrote this story last August, back when I still had the mind and the time to write. I never thought it was good enough to present it to the world, but when I read it all over again a few days ago I realized that it's not as bad as I thought (still not good, but well...) and since Drea79 encouraged me to publish more of my writing, I decided to post it.
Unlike the stories I usually write, it has no suspense whatsoever. It's not supposed to have suspense either. With this little fic I was just trying to capture beauty in happiness for once, trying to convince myself that sometimes all a story needs is one happy moment to describe, trying to become a better writer, because no other story of mine could stand without drama and suspense. I hope it worked, I hope I managed to show a bit of the beauty I had in mind in this story. I'd love to hear what you think. :)
My mother tongue still isn't English, so there might be mistakes. If you find them, feel free to tell me, I'd appreciate it.
To all those of you, who are waiting for a new chapter for "Turning Back Time". I recommend to check my profile once in a while. Right now, I'm too tired to write anything that makes sense at all, that's why I got stuck with the prologue. But that I can't write doesn't mean that I haven't been thinking about the story, planning it in all it's details. It will be divided into two parts and will have about 28 chapters, prologue and epilogue included.
Anyway. I hope you'll enjoy this story...
Love, Kuchengelybber
Disclaimer: I don't own anything but the ugly hair on my head and I definitely don't own anything that has anything to do with Everwood. (-gets all girlish- Even though I'm gonna marry Gregory Smith one day. o.O)
The Luckiest Man
I was at work the day Ephram was born. If I ever claimed I didn't quite remember, I lied. How could one forget the day of his first child's birth? How could one forget the day of his child's birth ever, even if it wasn't the first? I don't know, I never did. I wasn't there, though. I was at work.
I let her press that terrible nurse's hand instead of mine as she was having my child. The nurse thought she was something like Ephram's godmother afterwards, we practically stormed out of the hospital with him the day Julia and he were released, a stunt to escape that woman before she could ask if she might pay a visit once in a while. It was cruel of me – to not be there when Ephram was born, that is, not that with the nurse – I know that now. Ever since she died I know it all. I grew a hundred years the day she died.
When Ephram was born, I was not a world-famous neurosurgeon... I was just... a neurosurgeon. An ambitious one, I'll admit. I wasn't that successful, I was good, no doubt in that, but I was new. When Julia went into labor I was scheduled to assist a friend of mine in a very interesting case. So instead of staying with her that whole day, I left.
When we stood up that morning, she started with the happiest smile, sitting in that huge nightgown on the bed while I was dressing: "You know... today's the day." I didn't know, gave her a look saying exactly so. "Ephram's supposed to be born today!", she cried outraged, yet excited, explaining what she meant. She didn't look too happy about me not knowing, I ignored it, though. I never knew how to deal with her being upset with me. "That was today?", I asked foolishly as I have often done ever since referring to Ephram. Birthdays. First day of Kindergarten. Recitals. School plays. Grade school graduation. Bar mitzvah. Not that I missed all of those. "Yes," she replied as she stood up slowly holding her stomach, holding him. We didn't fight that much back then, she didn't freak about it as she would have fourteen years later. "You really forgot his birthday?" His birthday, I held back a grin, that day the statement seemed so stupid to me, he wasn't born, it wasn't his birthday. Oh my God, was I an ass. I ignored the question, "but you're not having any contractions, do you?" She took a deep breath then, I heard it well, I remember it well. Julia's deep breaths were the prettiest I've ever heard. "Actually... I do." I let go of my tie, turned and looked at her. She gave me the prettiest smile, slightly blushing. She was actually looking forward to it, I realized and it shocked me as I was thinking about the pain she was going to go through. I remember that. I remember that day well. One should remember one of the best days of his life well. The contractions had started very softly just two hours earlier.
But instead of staying, for her, for my son, I decided I couldn't miss that chance given to assist at that special surgery – I don't even remember what a surgery it was, that special it was – and told her, that with Ephram being her first child, it would take many hours anyway and she should call me when it was getting really bad and I'd come immediately and we'd go to the hospital. "This is a big surgery, Frank told me he could really use me there," I told her, I believed it, too. I wasn't needed, I was totally exchangeable. But I thought... I thought I'd never be given that chance again. How could I have been so stupid to think that I'd be given another chance to be there when Ephram, my own son, would be born. I was an idiot.
The call came eventually. Of course. A nurse entered. "Your wife is on the phone and asked me to tell you that, I quote: 'He already stuck his hand out and waved'." I was in a frenzy at that time, excited about everything but my son's birth, so I asked the nurse to tell Julia to meet me at the hospital and I'd be there as soon as I could. The hospital Ephram was born in wasn't too far away from the one I was doing surgery at at that time, I figured I'd come in time to be there when Ephram came.
Julia took a taxi to the hospital. I never thought that far when I thought about meeting her at the hospital. I never thought about how she'd get there. She told me she totally freaked the poor driver out, always almost pulling the handbrake up with each contraction, that was what she apparently grabbed. Instead of my hand. I should've been there, it should've been my experience, not a stranger's. I will never forgive myself this. She, however, had.
Not when I came to see him there for the first time, though. That tiny, quiet, pale and so beautiful thing. He was a few hours old already, peacefully sleeping. He was the palest baby I had ever seen, it didn't match his rather dark hair, not a bit, but I liked it. He was special.
He still is special. When Julia died and I first got to know him – really got to know him – I realized it all over again. He wasn't a normal boy, not at all. Not when he was two and not when he was six, not when he was ten. Or twelve... fifteen. Eighteen. He always had the biggest heart one could have. Not for me, but for everyone else... I didn't deserve his heart either. I think he knows. I think he knows everything I ever did to him from the day I knew he existed. Every oh so tiny thing. I think he always has. He was the wisest baby ever, this knowing look he always gave me when I was holding him sometimes scared me to the bones. "I know what you did," it said, expression blank. Maybe I just felt guilty. With Delia the look said: "I like you." When Delia came, there was little left I let myself feel guilty for. But Ephram... whenever Ephram was angry at me, I let him. Believed him stronger and smarter than myself. I don't think he ever learned to respect me. I don't think I deserved respect either. Do you know that phase some children get in when they start to scream "I hate you" at their parents, exactly knowing what an effect it has, realizing that it is how to get what they want? Ephram was one of them. He was smart. Julia didn't let him, told him that he didn't hate her and continued to do what she wanted. Ephram has always respected her. Me it hurt whenever he told me he hated me. "You're a bad Daddy!" I think I sometimes even cried because of it. Because I knew he probably really hated me. I never dared to say "no, you don't", because chances were he'd reply "yes, I do". He did one day. I mean, he did really hate me. I don't know when it happened, or why, but it must've been during that phase he ignored me absolutely for years.
He was maybe ten. He had friend, a sweet little girl, who he was obviously in love with. I wanted to show him that I cared, let him know that I was there if he ever wanted to talk about the feelings he was having. One rash remark, though, caught him off guard and angered him so much that it haunts me to this day. That was when he started to say "I hate you" again. That time it was worse. I knew he meant it, he was old enough to mean it, to know what he was saying. But it started earlier, the hate. That had just been his first real outburst for years, I'd seen it in his eyes that night. I was blind for his emotions, except for when he screamed them into my face.
Julia used to tell me that he needed me, from the day he was born. He only really showed it when he was injured. When this little sobbing child would curl up in my arms holding his hurting finger and whining "Daddy, Daddy..." into my shirt. He'd caught his finger in the kitchen door that day. But instead of realizing that all he wanted was to cuddle and soothing words and maybe a little blowing at the tiny finger, I set him on the floor and got him a freezer bag with cold ice cubes. He looked at me as though I'd just shot a rabbit right in front of him. And I really didn't understand why. He wanted warmth, I understand it now, and I gave him cooling. When I put on the TV and asked him to sit with me he marched away. He was a cute child. Sometimes I wish he still were, so I could be the father he deserved. He'd be a different man now, though and I don't want that. He's incredible. I think there are little fathers who can be as proud of their sons as I am. Though I never did anything to turn him into this man. It was Julia and it was he himself. He really is a good man as I don't meet many nowadays. He's loyal and noble and wise. He isn't famous yet, but it wouldn't change him if he were. That kind of a man he is. Sometimes I wonder if we're really related. It is how the world ideally works, though, I believe. The son is better than the father, it's evolution. I can't even imagine my grandchildren. And this time I'll be the Grandpa. I've learned from life, I'm ready. When they grow teens and hate him because it's just what teenagers do, I'll be there. I'll be the beloved Grandpa and simultaneously I'll tell Ephram: "Hang in there, they all grow up eventually." And then I'll sigh wistfully thinking of the time my son was still a child and yelled at me every day, as though it had been the best time of my life.
I do miss the yelling sometimes, the fights we had after Julia died. It's when I realized that he had to be feeling something for me if he bothered to fight with me. You don't spend hours yelling conversations with a person you don't give a shit about. He was passionately... or desperately trying to make me understand what he was feeling. It's when I found his soul. It was exciting to meet this new interesting person I thought I'd known but hadn't. He was a strong boy, sensitive in a way, but careful to hide it. Different from what I remember myself as a teen, different from my friends of that time of my life. He was... wiser. He had paid much attention to everything happening around him as a child; he was more attentive than anyone she'd ever met, Julia once said. He knew everything you told him before you even said it, he knew everything before I did, though he never said so, he was quiet, didn't need everybody to know how intelligent he really was. When he was fifteen he already had qualities I haven't developed till I was an old man, till I had lived long enough to understand, till I was sort of wise. Or which I still don't have. He lives more intensely, he lives with his eyes wide open, as to never miss a chance, like I have so many times. With fifteen he was more reliable than I was when I was a lot older. An older man in a younger body. It was probably the way Julia raised him. She was a genius with the kids. She got everything they said. When Delia first said "bom faya", she knew what that baby meant. She spoke her language. She'd wanted her pacifier.
I have never been for pacifiers, and to my great delight Ephram always spat them out. Delia liked them, though. I got her away from it quickly.
I love Ephram now, I always have, but now I know who I love and I love him all the more. I learned that he doesn't need me to protect him and he learned that I'll still try, forever, because he's my son. We're getting along well, grew into a father – adult son relationship. It's much like a friendship, but a little closer, because I'd do anything for him. He has a big heart, now for me as much as for everybody else, he forgave me. He even forgave me taking his son away from him, which I will never forgive myself for. He knows why I did it, maybe better than I myself, because he's a wise man.
It's twenty-five years ago that I missed my first child's birth, a quarter of a century. It's more than ten years ago that Julia died and we moved here. He likes it here, she must've known that. She sent us here after all. And she always wanted him to be happy.
It's eight years ago that he missed his first child's birth... That's two twenty-fifths of a century. And it's my fault. It's my fault that Ephram doesn't know what he was doing when his son took his first breath, it's my fault he didn't come to see him later, it's my fault that he's gone. I know now that what I did wasn't right on whatever level you look at it. It was a pathetic act of a pathetic father trying to protect his child. I meant well, I did him wrong. Still he understands, still he forgave. It's a great gesture... of a great man. And I feel terrible.
He can never have another first child, it hurts him, I know. I see it in his eyes whenever he corrects himself when he's talking about his and Amy's baby. He always hides the pain behind a short laugh, a snort or a blushing smile, pretending it's fine. It's not, we both know. We won't forget.
"Of course I'm like a headless chicken, my first baby's on the-- the first child I'll... that's... he... I'm going to be a Dad." He just said that. A few hours ago when he came looking for us, needing to know that we are here. He really acted like a headless chicken, it was awful. His hair was ruffled, he was sweaty and he had this crazy look of excitement in his eyes as he was pacing about updating us on the developments in the delivery room. This baby might not be his first, but he experiences it as his first. To be honest, I think it kind of is, too. The first that's really his. He doesn't know his first son, he didn't experience anything fatherlike with him, except maybe that love of which I know he's keeping deep within his heart, he told me about it. He has never been a father before, he's right, he's a Dad. A real Dad.
He's happy now. With Amy. I must've done some things right. At least listening to Julia that one time and moving him to Everwood. I know it was right whenever I see him with her. He loves her with all his heart. They're only twenty-five, but they... they work. I should've known it when he first said her name, or when I first saw the way he looked at her. I would've known it had I just... known him. Julia would've known it. She would've been so proud of him today. She always told me how she imagined him to be as a man. She has packed a present for his first child when he was... thirteen, I think. I don't know what it is. I'm sure she's shown it to me, but I... I... She has always been afraid of not being able to stick around as long as she wanted to. I never thought that far. I also have a present for his wedding from her. "Just in case." I hate this case.
They aren't married yet. I'm not quite sure it's the right order they do things in, but where did my opinion ever bring him? Europe? Far away at least. He proposed to her last Tuesday. He was so happy that she said yes. Not that, by any chance, she would've said no. They are pretty perfect. The baby was planned, by the way. Harold almost fainted when they told us that they'd tried to make a baby and that it had worked just fine. They explained it, though. They didn't want to be this kind of old parents, who can't keep up with their kids. They wanted to be good parents. Play with their children just as wildly as the kids wanted it, never wanted to see their toddlers beat them in a soccer game, not because they let them, but because they were better at it. They wanted to become grandparents, great-grandparents. That's why. They've been thinking about it – afterwards, Ephram confessed to me last month. They had just known that they wanted a baby. Immediately. Their biological clock's ticking, too, I guess. It was the right time for them, Ephram said. Looks like he was right. Of course. He's always listened to his heart.
So one day they just like that, spontaneously, decided that it's time for a baby and apparently, Amy was pregnant the instant they thought of it. They just let the whole contraception thing slip once and bang! Super Sperm, as Harold calls it,... I don't think Ephram would be too pleased to hear that we're talking about his fertility.
Harold assumes they don't know what's expecting them, but I'm pretty sure they do. Ephram and Amy are the kind of people who always know how to deal with situations, ever since they turned adults anyway. Their lives as teenagers have been incredibly hard, I don't think anyone would've been able to deal with that the right way. I doubt that there is a right way. But they survived it and they've grown through it, however they've done it. Whatever they do... it's making them better, it's making them stronger. They are just amazing. They will be raising their baby just fine and they will manage their careers as well, they are that type. People envy them, they say their life's too perfect to be true. As though they haven't deserved it. Some of these people should still remember what happened to them as kids, some of them don't know, but it's driving me crazy. They deserved at least that bit of luck. Love, family, career... at last. Somehow they found their ways in life, I wonder why they have. There have been smaller things to ruin lives forever, but they live as though nothing bad ever reached them. I wonder how they do it. It's just amazing.
Ephram is a very lucky man. I was a very luck man. The difference is that Ephram knows he is. He realized, he's grateful, he loves every single thing about his life and savors every moment.
He's looking good right now. Not healthy, with the dark rings under his eyes, but happy, utterly and totally happy. He's glowing. The baby in his arms is sleeping.
I know that I've been an idiot. For all my life, now that I see how he does it all right. It looks so easy with him. I've seen many things in my life, but nothing I've ever seen was as beautiful as this. My son is proudly presenting his own son to us. And this child is so perfect. As perfect as Ephram has been. I see him lying in Ephram's arms and I know this child is so much luckier than mine have been. He gets Amy and Ephram, he's the luckiest baby I've ever seen.
Ephram. Julia picked that name. Julia loved that name. I allowed her to choose a name. It's not that I didn't care, I wouldn't have said yes to names like... Rudolph, Victor, Fritz and others I really don't like, but I... I didn't care enough to make a specific choice of which I like. Ephram's a wonderful name and I couldn't imagine any other name for him, but I regret never being a part of the process of picking it. Ephram and Amy picked names carefully together, I've seen the joy it gave Ephram. He's a father with all his heart, he loves the role, he's a real talent. It took them weeks to pick the right name. They always had thousands of sheets of paper with them, scribbling down names, rating them, talking about them. They were so happy.
Amy was one jolly pregnant woman, it was the sweetest thing, she always made you laugh with her cheerful smile and the way she was chirpy about everything. And Ephram was the perfect match, he was just as happy, just not so... bouncy. But the way he is now... it's nothing compared to that. I've never seen that perfect, glowing smile on his face before, now that he's talking about his little son's exhausted Mommy. The way he says "Mommy", referring to Amy, it's beautiful, I hear how much he's enjoying it. It's taken 16 and a half hours for Amy to push the baby out, but, according to Ephram, she stayed pretty jolly to the end... except for that one outburst when she told him that she was going to shove a basketball up his ass once they got out of that hospital just to see how he could breathe through that. He says she's been walking on memory lane after that. "She was just fantasizing about the day we painted our apartment, how cute I looked in my old clothes and with all the color over my face, when he finally fell out, just like swoosh and there he was. And really, she hasn't cried a bit up to then, but suddenly, without a warning, she just burst into tears when she saw him," he states beaming and raises his eyebrows, making us all laugh. Not because it's funny, but because we're all just so happy.
I watch in a daze as he bends down his head to look at his son with that incredible smile as the baby's starting to move and whine softly. My grandson. He's beautiful. "Hi," Ephram squeaks hoarsely and quietly, greeting his child, his hand carefully caresses the little fuzz of dark hair on the newborn's head. I watch as he's drawing a finger over the little one's eyebrow, tipping the tiny nose, then carefully following the lines of the soft red ear and finally tipping the lips as well.
I love him. He's smiling up at me now, so happy. The baby boy in his arms certainly is his son: He looks exactly like his dad. Ephram's a father. It makes me feel old. I am old. It's incredible how it happens, time may pass so slowly and agonizingly you want to cry out, but you still are shocked when you realize: My birthday's coming up again? And where's all the time gone? I feel like I should look around, to make sure this is real. That was twenty-five years ago? Yes, and he's become such a perfect man. Perfect father. Perfect everything.
For such a frail little life, this tiny Brown is loved by many people, I realize as I see us standing here, admiring him. Besides his parents, a crowd of family gathered in this hospital just to see him, so new and perfect, to welcome him among us. Uncles and aunts and grandparents. And a great-grandmother.
Ten people followed him here, just to be there when he's born. That's not so usual. We've been waiting here for hours. Nina and Rose and Harold and me. And Delia and Bright and Hannah and Sam and Lilly. And Edna. He's a very loved baby.
My son has been through a lot in his life. Now I'm aware of how much of that was my fault and I've spent so many hours thinking about "what if"s since Julia died, but today is different. Today is the day that I know it is over. Just because of that pure smile, I know it. It heals all wounds. It heals me, it heals us. It heals everything. Today. Today is the day that I know the pain will not return, that now life is good. To him.
Because today is the best day of his life and his smile makes it mine, too.
Sometimes I wish I could turn back time...
... today I'm just glad that I can't.