Disclaimer: I do not own Ib.
Chapter 10
"How was school today?" Ezekiel asked, running his fingers through his daughter's hair.
She shrugged, tilting her head up to look up at him from her position on his lap.
The corner of his lips twitched. The universal kid answer to the universal parent question reassured him. There were no strained silences, no haunted trembling, no heavy eyelids betraying exhaustion. And most importantly, no sudden straightening of posture with determined red eyes staring into his own as a child forced herself to lie. As she absent-mindedly began swinging her feet he allowed himself to smile. Normalcy would return.
"Did you make another drawing for arts and crafts today? I'll frame it and put it up with the others." Vivian suggested. Ib had been alternating with bringing home drawings and macaroni frames she made in class every day for the past month. One of the frames she'd made was still empty.
She shook her head. "I made something different today."
"Well, what did you make, Ib?"
She hopped off her father's lap and left the room, returning with her backpack. She pulled the round object out carefully and revealed it to them. They looked to each other with worried eyes and sad smiles. Her nightmares had not ceased but they could not help but be proud of the smart child.
"Oh, Ib, that's a lovely dream catcher. It's very well-made. I'll help you put it up in your room right now, if you want," Garry offered.
Ezekiel was already moving to stand, planning on retrieving a tack to hang it up when Ib shook her head. "What's wrong?"
"It's not…" she trailed off and held it out to Garry before beginning again. "It's for you."
"Wha—" his question was left unfinished as small fingertips brushed the darkness underneath one of his eyes.
"You have them too."
He wanted to reassure her. To deny the claim. But looking at her resigned face, sad certainty in her eyes, he knew he couldn't.
"Yeah," he croaked pathetically passed the lump in his throat. Swallowing hard, he said it again, breathy and tormented, "Yeah, I do."
She pushed it into his hands.
"Here," she said softly, remorse in her eyes.
"I-I'll make you one too," he replied, surprise first washing over his features, then understanding, before it settled to mirror her own expression.
They smiled weakly at each other. Garry cleared his throat and spoke, attempting to dispel the suddenly somber mood.
"Why, it has the most intricate design I've ever seen! As the obvious expert on making this beautiful piece of art, will you teach this poor amateur?" he groveled exaggeratedly. He dropped to his knees and bowed. "I'm not worthy! I'm not worthy!"
She giggled, grateful he was able to break the tension.
"You should raise your hand if you have a question," she scolded him, lips pursed and arms crossed as she'd seen her teacher do.
Garry grinned. "Does this mean I'm being given a time out?"
"No, you get off with a warning this time." She dropped the act and frowned. "I'll teach you but I don't think I have everything to make it."
Swallowing down the guilt that had been spreading through him at his revelation, he jumped on the opportunity she had unknowingly given him. He needed a moment alone. "Why don't you go to your room and write up a list of what we need and the steps to making it? I'll go buy the supplies and come back so you can talk me through it."
"Okay," she stood and started up the stairs. At the top she paused. "Garry?"
"Yes, Ib?"
"What's 'intricate' and 'amateur'?" she asked, stating the words slowly with uncertainty.
"Umm… 'Intricate' is something really difficult to understand or complicated. 'Amateur' is like a beginner…Uh… Someone who isn't good at something yet?"
He assumed she'd nodded in response as she usually did as he heard the footsteps pick up again and fade. As the sound ceased, he plopped down on the sofa and buried his head in his hands. He took in deep, shaky breaths and let them out with heavy, shuddering exhales. He shook his head, still covering his face with his hands. He slouched back, sinking into the couch as his breaths calmed to be normal, barely audible. He wrapped his arms around himself, head lying back on the top of the couch so he was facing straight up. His eyes were tightly shut and he was trembling. The parents traded worried glances. Coming to a decision, Vivian walked over and placed a comforting hand on his arm. He jumped slightly at the contact, looking up at her then Ezekiel with surprised eyes. It was not difficult to realize he'd forgotten they were there. He ran a hand through his hair with another shaky, calming breath. "Sorry."
Whatever reply Vivian was going to give was cut off by Ib returning. She held the list out proudly to Garry before her smile faltered. "Okay?"
"Yes, Ib. I'm fine," he replied, fondly ruffling her hair with one hand while he grabbed the list with the other.
"Ib, can you help me with dinner tonight?"
Ib nodded in response and followed her mother out of the room. Vivian met her husband's eyes meaningfully before she exited and mouthed, 'Speak to the boy.' Ezekiel moved to sit on the other end of the couch, the space between the males enough for two people. Eyes met then were averted. They both coughed awkwardly. Garry scratched the back of his neck while Ezekiel picked at nonexistent lint on his trousers.
Ezekiel was looking at the fireplace when he finally spoke. "So, are you…?"
The purple-haired boy's eyes seemed glued to the floor as he replied. "Yeah. Fine. Thanks."
Brown eyes flicked towards the boy briefly before fixing themselves on the clock across the room. "Want to... talk?"
Through the corner of his eyes he saw the boy tense, saw him hesitate, before he shook his head slowly. Sighing, the man finally turned his body to face the boy. Garry, common courtesy overpowering discomfort, turned towards him in response. "You look like you need to."
"She feels so guilty." He relented, rubbing his face with his hand in frustration. "She shouldn't. Shouldn't even think about it."
"Ib does?"
Garry nodded and laughed without mirth. "At least we're on the same page as always. I feel guilty too."
He waited. The teen had started talking and he knew he wouldn't stop until he got everything off his chest.
"I wasn't… I wasn't… there. I should've… I didn't even think…"
The man jumped a bit, startled as Garry smacked the back of his head on the wooden top of the couch before sitting properly again.
"The whole thing was so… terrifying. I felt like I would go insane." He shook his head. "I would have gone insane if she wasn't…"
He huffed, running a hand through his hair, grabbing a handful with his fist and tugging viciously in self-loathing.
He chuckled, though the haunted look didn't leave his eyes. "She has a pretty strong arm for a nine-year-old. That slap hurt."
The small smile was abruptly contorted with a grimace. "She was so strong. Few things really got to her. When we got out, I thought she'd be fine. I knew she would be."
Gazing at the arch the two females had left from, he stated, agony in his tone. "I was wrong."
He looked down at his hands, twiddling his thumbs. "I didn't think…didn't even consider… I should've… She's still so small."
Heaving a sigh, he continued, "She took everything so well… But I shouldn't have assumed, shouldn't have been so sure. She's nine. Hell, I had nightmares for months after!"
"…I still have nightmares," he murmured, looking across the room.
He sat back, calming slightly. "When I found out… When I knew she… I felt so guilty. We'd been there for each other. But I wasn't there when she needed me."
He licked his lips, feeling parched. "I resolved to be here for her. Whenever, she needed me. And when she didn't need me too, just in case. I would never make her face things alone again."
He finally met the older man's eyes. "When she looked at me, when she gave me the dreamcatcher, she might as well have been screaming, 'I'm sorry.' And that expression! It was the same as mine as when I looked in the mirror and resolved to myself to negate the pain my neglect, my failure, had caused. She's so mature, so smart, sir. It saved our lives more than once, kept us both sane, but still, it isn't fair to her. It weighs down on her tiny little shoulders and burdens her with things she shouldn't even have to consider yet… She should be happy."
Emotionally spent, he slouched back. Beside him, Ezekiel did the same, absorbing the new information and giving the boy some much needed silence.
A/N: Merry Christmas! Sorry. I planned on posting this much earlier. It just didn't want to be written. I've done over seven drafts of this thing. Haha. But I've got it down now. Yay!
Ezekiel and Garry have finally gotten a real heart to heart and it was fun writing them being awkward. I really want them to get along.
Thanks for staying with me through this. All of you are absolutely lovely.
Until next time friendlies,
Happy Holidays
Dfsemina