G is for Grateful
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Characters: Adam Rove and Joan Girardi
Rating: PG-13
Genre: Het
Summary: To quote R.E.M.: It's been a bad day, please don't take a picture.
Character Age: late 20's
Joaniverse: Post-TV show. Some settings taken from the Butterflies Joaniverse, but I see it more like an alternate universe to it.
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Her long, brown hair hung around her slumped shoulders like a curtain, obscuring her face from his line of sight. He didn't know if she was just sitting there, contemplating, or if she had been quietly waiting for him. Quiet and strained anticipation crackled in the air.
Adam put his keys on the chest of drawers by the door and took off his jacket. He felt the little strength he still had leaving him.
It had been a tough day from the start, tougher than any day he could remember for a long time. One set of bad news was chasing the next, and then Joan had called during lunch and things had gotten from bad to worse. They never fought, and it had scared him that they had yelled at each other to the extent that his colleagues had given him strange looks afterwards. No one had dared ask, though.
Her glance at him was reserved, careful. He sat down at the far end of the couch, his arm on the backrest, well within reach of her—if she wanted to reach out.
He gave her a long look, then spoke with a composed voice. "When I was ten years old, my mother first tried to kill herself. Dad was at work and I found her in the kitchen. She took an overdose of diazepam."
Joan turned her head to look at him and her eyes grew wider.
Adam continued, "I didn't know what to do, so I called Dad and he told me to run next door and get help. He must have called 911 because he arrived just before the ambulance did."
He paused and studied a crumb on the couch pillow next to him. "A few weeks ago, Henry accepted a bid from SAVE, a suicide prevention organization. I've been working on their video clip ad all day, and going over this scene where a young girl swallows pills, it just... It brought back all the bad memories. And then Christine had to leave the office because they thought her mom had a stroke this morning, and then you called and I just..."
He whispered, "I'm sorry. I'm sorry I yelled at you."
He lifted his head and met her eyes. The expression in them was soft now, sympathetic.
"It's okay," she whispered back. She stretched out her bent arm so that her fingers lightly touched his. In a soft voice she continued, "Sometimes I forget, you know?
He didn't ask aloud, but she could read the question in his eyes.
"I forget all the difficulty in your past, all the challenges, and the tragedies. I forget what you've been through.
"You know, looking back, I had a near perfect childhood, at least until Kevin's accident, and at times like this I can't help thinking how I can never be grateful enough for that. And I guess I've never known or really realized that it can be a lot different for other people."
She paused and waited. Sometimes he just needed time—time to digest his emotions, his thoughts, his response. When the silence stretched out for too long, she knew he was on the brink of folding in on himself.
She broke the silence. "Just wait here a second."
She left the room and came back a minute later with a picture frame in her hands. "Here. Remember that it wasn't all bad."
She sat down close to him and he took the frame from her that she held out to him. It was the picture of him with his parents that they had framed a while ago to put in the room they were currently using as their study but that could well become a nursery when the time was right. In the photo, little Adam was holding a giant inflatable pickle with a big smile on his face. Carl and Elizabeth were hugging him from either side, both of them laughing.
He studied the image behind the glass cover with a bittersweet smile. "Yeah, it helps to remember that."
He was silent for another long minute, but then he looked at Joan. "You once told me that I shouldn't let all this tragedy define who I am. And I'm trying, but some days are just harder than others."
She took his hand and let her thumb softly stroke his palm. "Sweetie, I know that. What can I do to make a bad day get better?"
The corners of his mouth twitched upward but didn't quite want to form a smile.
Joan got up from her seat and went to the stereo. She quickly scanned the CD rack next to it and found what she was looking for after a few seconds. The music started playing when she hit the Play button and she stood in front of Adam, holding out her hands.
"Dance with me."
"Jane," he said, unwilling.
"Dance with me," she repeated. "Please."
He looked at her and the sparkle in her eyes made him take her hands. She dragged him up and he adjusted his position so that they fell into a proper dancing stance.
By the time that the song ended, he had a full smile on his face and had come to the realization that he was holding the love of his life in his arms. Maybe he hadn't had the best childhood, but there was one thing he now knew: He was going to make up for it in every imaginable way.
