I.
A week had passed since Ricky had come to stay with Rick in New York. Through the benefit of hindsight, Ricky was glad that his son had forced the move. Though he was still grieving, he was not immersed in the hopeless darkness which had prompted him to consider ending his life. And as much as he hated to admit it, being in the house, even with his son present, had been draining him emotionally. He could only imagine how those feelings might have progressed had he been there by himself.
Indeed, Ricky had a further wake-up call when a person in the building across the street made a similar attempt on his own life in the days after Ricky arrived. Thankfully, he had apparently been stopped by a cleaning woman who thought him not to be home. Ricky had been among the small crowd of onlookers that had gathered when the man was apparently taken away somewhere for "help."
When Ricky had wandered back up to the apartment, alone while Rick was at rehearsal (which had taken a great deal of convincing and assurance), he sat in the living room and realized how fortunate he was for his son. It would've been fairly easy for the young man to send his aging and, for a time, suicidal father to some institution. But the thought of doing so had never crossed Rick's mind. The stories of abuse and questionable treatments in mental facilities were notorious and yet, rarely discussed and never publicly exposed.
And so, Ricky came to view the incident as a reminder to him that he had much to live and be thankful for. The hole left in his heart in Lucy's absence would never heal, but at least it would not consume him.
After that first day alone and with the visible change in Ricky's demeanor, Rick softened his protective and constant watch over his father. He was more comfortable allowing Ricky to be alone in the apartment or to go out on his own. When he found himself torn between wanting to give his father some privacy when he shaved and his lingering reluctance to give him the razor blades, he gifted Ricky with an electric razor.
On this day, while Rick again spent the afternoon at rehearsal, Ricky made his way down to the street for a walk on what had developed into a beautiful, warm afternoon. He hadn't yet decided where he would walk to, but the city had a way of guiding one to a destination in its natural ebb and flow.
He observed the people as he walked up the block, rushing to the subway, popping into and out of the store front businesses, hailing taxis and sitting on the front stoops of the apartment buildings. He breathed in the aroma of the steamed hot dogs in the carts that seemed to be on every corner, swarmed by people who had only a few minutes to eat lunch before heading back to work.
Eventually, Ricky found himself coming upon Battery Park. At this time of day, it was full of people walking, bike riding and picnicking, due to its picturesque view of New York Harbor, located on the very edge of Manhattan. He smiled when he saw a man tossing a Frisbee to his dog and a young woman flying a kite not far off.
He walked to the railing that overlooked the water in the harbor. He glanced at some tourists nearby who were taking pictures of the Statue of Liberty.
Ricky continued walking, following the railing along the water, a jogger occasionally passing him. He grinned when he passed a young couple sitting on a blanket under a tree. They didn't seem to notice him or anything around them, being absorbed in what looked like the never ending kiss of young love. "To be that young again. I wish you were here and that we could go back to bein' that young again," Ricky said softly once he was out of the couple's earshot.
He reached the end of the park, where the island stopped at a point, the water outstretched in front of him. He sat on a bench and looked out, alone except for the small group of pigeons that hung around the benches, waiting for someone to come along with bread or popcorn for them. The occasional seagull would squawk as it flew over the open water. Some sort of bird was in the tree above him, occasionally releasing a caw of its own, but Ricky didn't pay any mind to it.
"What do you do with your days, honey? Maybe there are no days or nights in Heaven. Sometimes it feels like there are no days or nights here. Since you left, it's just been one long day. But it's gettin' a little better. We raised a good man. I dun't wanna live without you, but I'm learnin' how. Thin's will be different for me now. I'll get by. But I'd be lyin' if I said that I dun't go to bed every single night wishin' that you were in my arms. There's no cure for that. I would settle for one kiss or your hand in mine." Tears dotted Ricky's eyes. "A smile, even. I love you and I miss you."
II.
Rick walked into the darkened apartment, tired from his performance and ready for a shower. He stopped at his father's bedroom door, hoping to find him awake. He had gotten together some of Ricky's old orchestra members who still lived in the area, so he wanted him to come to rehearsal the following day to see them.
He stood in the open bedroom doorway and saw Ricky's sleeping figure in bed, the room dark except for the light of the street lamps casting a soft glow through the window.
Rick raised an eyebrow at what looked like the shadow of a bird of some sort which sat on the ledge outside the window. "Damn pigeons," he chuckled softly, heading to his own bedroom and resigned to speak with his father in the morning.
Ricky stirred in bed, the blue jay on the ledge sitting peacefully still.
Ricky looked around, finding himself on the roof of the club and wondering how he had gotten from the comfort of his bed to the chilly rooftop.
He looked over the ledge, finding a quiet street below, unusual for any time of day or night in New York. He turned suddenly when he felt a hand on his shoulder.
Ricky was faced with a pair of sparkling blue eyes, cherry red lips and flaming red curls. He was stunned breathless. She was so beautiful…ethereal even. And at least twenty-five years younger than she was the last time he saw her.
He wanted to tell her so much. Did she know how much he was missing her? Did she know how much he loved her? Before he could manage to vocalize any of his thoughts, she quieted him by slipping her hand gently into his. He closed his eyes, somewhat unwillingly because he wanted to look at her for as long as he could, yet reflexively as her lips fell against his. They were warm and soft and wonderful. How he had missed her kiss! He wanted to wrap his arms around her, to embrace her tightly and not let her go again. But as her lips withdrew from his, reluctantly, he sensed, the night breeze seemed to whisk her away from him.
Ricky's eyes snapped open and he sat up in bed, looking around and coming to the slow realization that he had never left the bed or his son's apartment.