"This is not fair," Sheldon nearly whined – well, as much as he could whine without coughing "we sleep in the same room and eat the same stuff – why aren't you ill?" he asked almost accusingly as he shivered pulled the sheets under his chin again – for once, he hadn't minded staying on the lower bunk.
"That's what you get for sleeping in your underwear," Betty snickered a little as she grabbed her bag "by the way, I didn't know you still had those boxers with the blue hippos…"
Her brother sneezed. "Hey, the other ones were all in to be put in the dryer."
"And you didn't put them in the dryer," Betty rolled her eyes "well, I'll tell you a secret – you're a big boy now. And big boys can do their own laundry."
Sheldon snorted. "Knock it off," he muttered grumpily as she turned to look back to the wall.
She was about to add something else, but she decided against it. It was funnier teasing him when he was in shape. "I'll explain your coach you're ill, okay?" she said quickly, putting her coat on – she was late for the gymnastics practice, and she hated being late.
"Okay," was all her brother managed to mutter before sneezing again "can you bring out Mimi when you get back?"
"Just this time," she said with a shrug as the phone began to ring "but you're re answering to the phone," she said, getting out.
"But I'm sick," Sheldon almost whined, but the only reply he got was the door shutting close. Oh, well, whatever – the phone was on the nightstand anyway, so it wasn't like he had to get up or something. "Hello?"
"Good morning – I am doctor Bowden from the St. Joseph's Hospital of Philadelphia," a man said from the other side of the line "I'm looking for Theresa Director – is she there?"
"That is no longer her surname," he said somewhat stiffly, wondering what did that guy want anyway. Had something happened to someone? But Betty was perfectly fine only a moment before, and if he was looking for their mother it surely wasn't about her. Maybe aunt Sarah? But she didn't live in Philadelphia…was there anyone he knew who lived in Philadelphia anyway? "She isn't home. I'm her son – you can tell me," he said, sitting up straight. Yes, there was someone who lived in Philadelphia: didn't his father move there a couple of years after leaving?
But it can't be him. He called just...just...
Last week. A lot of things can happen in a week.
It could be nothing serious. It could be about someone else.
And why would they look for your mother is it wasn't him and nothing serious happened?
"Oh," the man hesitated, unsure – he hadn't planned to deliver the news to a boy, but what else could he do? "Isn't there…anyone else at home with you?"
Sheldon swallowed, feeling a sudden, unmotivated panic rushing over him. "What happened?"
"Isn't there…?"
"No, dammit, there is no one else home!" he barked "what happened?"
There was a brief silence at the other side of the line, then a heavy sigh. "I'm really sorry to deliver such news," doctor Bowden finally said, each of his word suddenly sounding like a death toll to him "you might want to have a seat…"
Betty had never been to any funeral before that day, and she hated everything of it. The black clothes, the black coffin, the bunch of flowers that filled the air with an almost revolting smell and that bunch of silent people looking down at the ground, occasionally nodding as they listened to the priest's words…it all made her want to just run away. The only reason why she stayed was that sensation that she simply had to be there, paying a last goodbye to a man that hadn't even been there for her.
She sighed and let her gaze wander on the people around the coffin. She didn't know most of them, and she briefly wondered how many of those people actually cared about her father's death: aside for her mother, there were only two other people that actually seemed to be bothered by what happened: her father's…girlfriend – and man, didn't it feel odd calling like that a woman that was certainly past her forties! – and her son. He was probably only a few years younger than her and Sheldon, so he couldn't have any blood relation with their father…but by looking at him clinging to his crying mother's arm, one would have really thought it was his father they were burying.
He certainly seemed much more upset than her brother, Betty mused as she glanced at Sheldon. He was standing just a few feet behind them, his expression absolutely blank as he stared at the black coffin in which his father's body was resting. His hands were into the pockets of his coat, as if to protect them from the wind that ruffled his hair, but Betty could easily guess his hands were clenched into fists inside the pockets, and she could also guess one more thing – he felt guilty. Their father had called them not even a week before his heart attack, and he had refused to speak with him.
Betty bit her lower lip before she gently let go of her mother's hand – Theresa didn't even seem to notice, numb as she was – and walked to her twin. "You couldn't know," she said softly, standing next to him and looking at the coffin "you had no idea."
"I have no idea of what you're talking about," Sheldon said coldly, glancing away, then he shrugged "I shouldn't even be here. I wouldn't be here if it wasn't for mom," he glanced back at her, as if challenging her to say otherwise.
"That's right, you're here because of mom," Betty said, a little stiffly "and coming with us was your decision. Stop complaining."
"Yeah, it's easy to say for you. You always were daddy's little girl, weren't you?" Sheldon nearly snarled.
"How can you…!" Betty began, but she paused as she realized she had been speaking too loud "how can you say that? He left both of us, in case you haven't noticed. You were not the only one who--" she trailed off and swallowed "it's not my fault if I got to speak with him one last time while you didn't," she said quietly "you cannot blame it on me. It's not fair."
He opened his mouth to reply, hesitated, and finally closed it with a shrug. "Whatever."
There was a long silence, both observing as the coffin was lowered in the hole and everyone stepped forward to throw some dirt inside. Their mother didn't, nor she gestured them to. It would just be hypocrite, Betty thought. They were there to pay their respects, not to give some sugary display of affection that people probably expected from them.
On the other hand, she felt a slight pang of jealousy as she watched that boy – what was his name anyway? Adam, maybe, she couldn't remember – throwing some dirt on her father's coffin. Gerald Director had surely been more of a father to him than to his own children, she mused.
Her thoughts were however interrupted as she felt someone gently touching her arm – her mother. "Let's go," she said softly, reaching to ruffle Sheldon's hair. He didn't even protest as he usually would. "We have a plane to catch."
"Yes, in a minute," Sheldon nodded absentmindedly as Theresa walked past them. Betty saw him take something from his pocket, and she was astonished to see what it was: their father's 'lucky coin', as he always referred to it: a simple quarter coin with a hole in the middle…and judging from the round mark on his palm, he had been clutching it tightly for a while – probably the whole funeral. Betty had no idea he still had it: she had been certain he had lost it, or thrown it away.
"Hey, kid!"
The boy, who had returned by his mother's side, turned to look at him, and Sheldon gestured for him to step closer. He looked up at his mother, who simply nodded, then he stepped closer to that guy who looked so much like his deceased stepfather. He knew Gerald did have a son and a daughter who lived in another town, but he had never gotten to meet them until now, and he was amazed by how much that guy looked like him…but he didn't seem as kind, he thought nervously.
"Uh…hi," he muttered uneasily, avoiding to look at him. He didn't really like how he was looming over him – no, he really didn't seem as nice as Mr. Director was.
"So, did you like that guy?" Sheldon asked bluntly, his eyes turning just for a moment to Gerald Director's grave before resting on him again.
"Sheldon!" Betty tried to protest, but he just kept his gaze fixed on the boy.
"I…yes, sir," Adam he said timidly, clearly wanting to go back to his mother "he…he was a good dad."
An almost furious expression crossed Sheldon's features for a moment, but he got a grip on himself before the kid could even realize he had said the wrong thing. "Fine," he said with a shrug, then he handled something to the boy "then take this."
The younger boy blinked as he reached up to take the coin. "What is it?" he asked, frowning in confusion, and Betty was pretty sure he didn't know if he should be more confused because of the offer or because the coin had a hole in it.
Sheldon shrugged. "Some coin he always had with him – he said it was lucky or something. And I don't need his luck, so keep it. I think he would rather have you keeping it anyway," he added somewhat bitterly.
"Oh," Adam hesitated "uh…thank you?"
"You're welcome," Sheldon said with a shrug, turning away and walking to his mother without another word.
Betty sighed as she watched him walking away. "Make me a favour," she said to the still confused boy "take good care of it, alright?"
He nodded, apparently less intimidated by her than he was of her brother. "Alright."
"Good kid," she smiled a little before turning to walk up to Sheldon "bring out condolences to your mom."
"Okay."
The boy stood there for a few more moments, watching them walk away, then he glanced down at the lucky coin in his hand just for a moment before swallowing and stuffing it in his pocket. Yes, he would take care of it…but now he didn't want to look at it, he thought as he turned and ran back in his mother's comforting arms. He only wanted to close his eyes and pretend that whole day, and the day before, had only been a nightmare.
"Dammit, Sheldon, say something!" Betty snapped after two hours of heavy silence. Her brother hadn't uttered one single word since the moment they had gotten in the airport, and anything he had said until that moment had just been some monosyllabic reply to their mother.
Her brother just scoffed, his eyes still fixed on the window – the clouds were so white that it was blinding, but he didn't care. "What should I say? He kicked the bucket. End of the story."
"You shouldn't--"
"You want me to add something? Fine," her brother snapped, finally turning to look at her "he kicked the bucket in the most squalid way imaginable, having a heart attack while he was buying the tickets for some stupid baseball match he was going to bring that stupid kid to. How does that sound?" he snarled, a clear trace of resentment in his voice.
Betty narrowed her eyes. "Sheldon, stop this."
He ignored her and went on with vicious rage. "Not that it matters because to me he died almost ten years ago anyway, but now he had the wonderful idea of having a heart attack on Friday, so that the whole weekend just went to hell with--"
Smack!
Sheldon let out a surprised gasp as Betty's hand hit his face in a violent slap, almost causing him to hit his head against the window. "What's the matter? Did you expect some speech about what an awesome dad and husband he was?" he growled, shaking in suppressed rage as he wiped away some blood from the corner of his mouth "sorry to disappoint, but no. You won't hear that from me."
"If you say anything that stupid again, the next one will leave a mark," she threatened, her hand still raised as if ready to strike again "if mom heard you…"
"But she didn't!" he snapped, rubbing his sore cheek "she didn't hear a word--" he trailed off as she saw the expression on his sister's face – she looked like it was taking her all her strength to not cry.
"I did," she said, her voice trembling slightly despite her efforts "if you want to keep feeding yourself all this crap about how much you don't care about what happened because it makes you feel stronger or something, it's your business. But keep this crap to yourself – I just want to mourn my father in peace," she added, as if she had just realized how much his death had hurt her. It hurt both of them much more than it probably should have: their father had been lost to them for years already, or so they had thought.
They stared at each other for a few more moments, then Sheldon turned his gaze back outside and Betty rested against the seat again. There was a long, heavy silence.
"What did he say?" Sheldon finally asked, his eyes still fixed outside.
"What?"
"When he called. What did he say?"
Betty took a deep breath. "Nothing special – he asked how we were doing. He asked me to tell you he said hi," she bit her lower lip "but you already know that."
"He had asked to speak with me."
She sighed. "Yes."
"And I told you to tell him to got to hell," he gave a low, joyless chuckle "my last message for him – how ironic," he muttered, and Betty bit her lower lip even harder as she realized his voice was starting to break. "One would think he heard me after all, don't you think? He heard me and decided to just do as I--" Sheldon trailed off as she suddenly put a hand on his shoulder – it was something she hadn't done in years, if she ever had. They had never being really supportive to each other, competitive as they usually were.
"You didn't think what you said, and he never knew you said it anyway. It means nothing."
He just nodded. "That kid seemed to be fond on him," he said, changing subject.
"Yes, he did."
"Dad was planning to bring him to the baseball match today," Sheldon went on, his eyes staring blankly ahead "do you remember when he used to bring us to baseball matches? When we were little."
"Yes," Betty nodded, wondering when had it been last time he had actually referred to him as 'dad' "and he took us both on his shoulders so we could see better, remember?" she smiled a little at the memory – Gerald Director had been a large man, tall and with broad shoulders, and he looked like a giant to her when she was little "one shoulder each. He complained because we were getting heavy, but he would always let us on his shoulders anyway if we insisted enough. "
"And he always said…"
"…good thing it's just two of them, I haven't got a third shoulder," Betty finished with a chuckle "yes, I remember. Man, how many times did he use that line?"
Sheldon smiled just a little. "More times than I can remember. It was a lame joke, uh?"
"Did he ever crack a joke that wasn't lame?"
"Well, no. But we were still young enough to find them amusing."
"Yeah. Remember when he called us Phycho and Somatic?"
Sheldon chuckled at the memory. "Don't remind me. That was the lamest one."
"Well, you did laugh."
"I was four, and I had no idea of what that meant! And you laughed too!"
She held up her hands. "Touché," she said with a small smile.
There was another silence before Sheldon swallowed and spoke again. "He's gone," he said quietly, as if he was just beginning to realize it.
Betty smiled a little and patted his back. "Nice to see your brain is back on this planet," she said, and he gave an odd sound between a laugh and a sob.
"And here I thought you would get sentimental," he said, throwing an empty can at her.
She smirked weakly, ducking under it and leaning back on the seat. "You should have known better," she said, and they didn't speak about their father again for the weeks that followed. There wasn't much more to be said.
"Are you sure you know what you're doing?" Betty asked, raising an eyebrow as she watched her brother working in the backyard, a small grin on her lips. There were very few things that annoyed her brother as much as having her questioning his skills in manual jobs – truth to be told, he was rather good at it.
"Sure," Sheldon grumbled, shooting her a nasty glace as he wiped the sweat from his forehead with his sleeve and tried to prevent Mimi from chewing his shoes "this isn't some kind of show, you know. Don't you have anyone else to bother?"
Betty shrugged, leaning against the wall. "I'm just curious to see how much it will take for you to break at least a couple of fingers with that hammer," she said with a grin.
"Sorry to disappoint, but this isn't going to happen," her brother muttered before turning his attention back to the small doghouse he was building – the weather was getting awfully hot, and he wanted his dog to have a decent doghouse to get in to escape the heat of the sun "not now, Mimi! Betty, can't you make yourself useful and keep her away from here?" he demanded, looking over his shoulder at his sister. Trying to get the nails in the planks so he could finally get the roof done wasn't exactly easy as long as the chihuahua kept trying to jump on the planks, risking to be injuried by the nails.
"And I should because…?"
"Because I'm your older brother and I tell you to do so."
"Keep dreaming."
Sheldon groaned. "Okay, fine – if you keep her until I'm done, you get to sleep on the upper bunk tonight," he said grudgingly "deal?"
Betty chuckled. "Sounds fair to me," she said, stepping forward and leaning to take Mimi in her arms. She laughed a little as the small dog tried to lick her face – she definitely was a friendly little one. No wonder her brother had grown so fond on her, she thought. "How old is she anyway?"
Sheldon shrugged as he began nailing the parts of the roof together. "The vet says she's about one year old, give or take a couple of months," he frowned as the nail he was hammering in the plank bent "dangit, not again – are the nippers over there?"
"Yes," Betty reached for the nippers and handled them to him "you brought her to the vet already?"
"Yesterday, while you were at your gymnastics practice," he said, pulling out the bent nail form he plank "the coach was sick, so he let the team home earlier. Too bad, we have a match next week and-- ouch!"
"Nailed your hand?" Betty asked.
"Splinter," he said with a grimace, pulling out a splinter from his palm.
"Why aren't you using the gloves?"
"Mimi chewed them – I'm almost done anyway," he said, hammering another nail and carefully running a hand on the planks to make sure there were no nails sticking out before he began nailing the roof on the walls.
"Well, it doesn't look bad," Betty said truthfully, glancing at the small doghouse as he finished.
Sheldon grinned. "Sure it doesn't, I know what I'm doing," he said, getting up and cracking his back with a satisfied sigh "okay, put her down and let's see if she likes it."
Betty put Mimi back on the ground, letting the chihuahua get closer to the doghouse. The small dog sniffed at the walls for a few moments, clearly curious, then she seemed satisfied by the inspection and got inside. "I think it passed the test," she chuckled.
From inside the doghouse, Mimi barked.
"Yeah, definitely," Sheldon grinned "so, who did a great job?"
Betty rolled her eyes. "You did a great job."
"Damn right," he said, sweeping some more sweat from his forehead – man, it was hot out there. Was it really just April? "How about an ice cream?"
"I still have to finish my homework," she said with a shrug before glaring at him "and you didn't even begin yours," she pointed out.
"Hey, give me a break – I'll do it later, okay?" he snorted, reaching for the leash and whistling to make Mimi get out from the doghouse "it will only take a few minutes anyway – I'm melting!"
Well, she had to admit the weather was rather hot…and a good ice cream was something she couldn't refuse. "Alright, count me in."
"She doesn't look good, uh?" Betty said, sitting on the closest bench.
Sheldon blinked, finally turning his attention from his ice cream. "Who, Mimi?" he asked worriedly, turning to look at the chihuahua, who was apparently having a great time chasing some crickets in the grass "she's doing great!"
Betty rolled her eyes. "No, not the dog – I mean mom. She always looks worried lately."
Her brother frowned. "Well, that's no surprise – with him gone, she isn't getting financial help for us anymore. He left most of his money to his new family," he said, scowling at the thought "and there wasn't that much of it anyway. Some loss."
There was a brief silence, both of them staring blankly ahead for a few moments. Neither of them had wanted to talk about their father's passing since when they had gotten back from the funeral – not even their teachers, schoolmates or friends knew anything about it. Why should it matter anyway? He had been away too many years for his death to make any significant difference in their lives.
Betty finally sighed. "I guess the hospital isn't going to give her a raise anytime soon," she muttered darkly, suddenly not feeling like eating her ice cream anymore. It just wasn't fair – why did things always have to be that hard for their mother?
"Oh, please – the hospital's administration would make the nurses bandage wounds with rags to save money if only it wasn't forbidden," Sheldon said sourly before sitting next to her, gazing at his ice cream thoughtfully "you know, I was thinking…"
"You're thinking? Hang on there, I'll call the press!" she mocked him, poking his shoulder and causing him to snort.
"I'm being serious here! And you shouldn't interrupt me anyway."
"And I shouldn't because…?"
"Because I'm the older--"
"Finish that sentence and you'll get this ice cream as a hat," Betty threatened, and her brother shrugged with a scowl.
"Whatever," he grumbled, glaring at her a little grudgingly "anyway, I was thinking we could get a job."
"A job? Sheldon, we're graduating in three months…"
"I mean a part-time job," he cleared "I heard the new fast-food is hiring people for the late afternoon shift – I think we could try to make it work out. It would at least help her a little with the bills until we get to college."
Betty thought for a moment before shaking her head. "Yes, we could – but we don't have just to study: you have your football team, and I have the gymnastics competition. You know those could gain us a scholarship for college if we also keep out grades up, right? That would save us a lot more money than we would gain in years making hot dogs. It could be our only chance to get into a college at all."
He frowned. "Right."
There was a brief silence as they both looked at Mimi, who had apparently given up on trying to catch crickets and was now running after sparrows. Well, a smart dog she wasn't.
"Okay, spit it out," Betty finally said.
"Uh?"
"You have something in mind."
"You know me too well."
"I've known you since when we were two bunches of cells making mom crave for blueberries, remember?"
"Wasn't it blackberries?"
She rolled her eyes. "Whatever. Now spit it out – what do you have in mind?"
"Well, I was thinking…" he paused for a moment to see if she was about to crack some joke about him thinking, then he went on as she said nothing "we could do that job at alternate days – one day it would be me, the other one it would be you. In the end, we would get one pay check for both: it's not like getting one each, but it's still something, and with a little organization we could make it work without having to lose too much time. What do you think?"
Betty frowned in thought for a few moments, then she glanced at her brother as if she just saw him for the first time. "You know, this could really work!"
Sheldon grinned, clearly pleased. "Hey, you're talking with a tactical genius here. Where are you going?"
"To apply for that job before someone else gets it – are you coming or not?"
"What's the rush? I don't think there is a crowd waiting to be hired," he protested a little, but he eventually got up and whistled to call Mimi back. After all, it was better not taking risks.
