Wishes
nine
=====
The hushed sounds of the city life down below infiltrated the walls of Rachel's apartment of eighteen months and Rachel, who had been watching the red digits on her alarm clock changed forms as she lay in bed, finally gave up on sleep and threw her feet down on her plush slippers, grabbing the claret velour robe over the back of the chair as she left the bedroom.
She had no idea what had triggered her memory to journey through her past with Ross again. Since she relocated to Milan, she never really let herself think about him or that past she shared with him. It was just too painful, draining, and every time she'd remember that one single year that seemingly erased the previous years they shared prior, her chest would feel tight, making it hard to breathe…which was why she couldn't understand why of all memories, her mind, this time, picked the time from when he got into that accident to the time that they finally ended…
She sighed, shaking off her melancholy before it could really sink in, wiping the tears that had kept her cheeks damp. It felt as though she had just finished watching a very sad movie. Only, it wasn't a movie. It was the story of her life.
Securing the belt of her robe around her waist, she lazily sauntered across the dark living room to the chestnut-paneled kitchen, and decided, when she reached the doorframe, to treat herself to the Italian ice cream she bought earlier that day instead of just getting a glass of water as she was planning to do originally.
In the kitchen, she grabbed a small spoon and then pulled out a pint of her favorite mint-chocolate gelato from the freezer. Not comfort food, she quickly reasoned. She really just wanted something cold in her mouth. She wanted to think that she was finally moving on. It was better this way. It made her feel better to think this way.
She marched back to the living room and plopped herself down the oversized chair in the middle of the small but tastefully decorated space. She kicked off her slippers and propped her socked feet up the wooden coffeetable as she dug a chockfull of the cold frozen treat in the small tub in her hand. It was a cold night and the frozen Milan cityscape made it seem even colder inside her apartment that she shivered as the ice cream slid down her throat. Instinctively, she reached up behind her and pulled a checkered afghan from behind the couch and wrapped it snuggly around her. She kept eating her ice cream, however. She didn't know why, but she just loved that cold yet blissful torment. The temperature could very well drop below zero, but armed with a warm blanket, she'd still gladly eat ice cream. There was something very familiar and comforting about doing it. She didn't know what it was, though; she still has yet to figure it out.
Taking a slow, deep breath, she turned her head to the side, pressing it at the high back of the chair until she found a comfortable position. For a while, she watched the cityscape before her eyes, watched as the lights jumped from one distant building to another like the Christmas lights that she had once watched outside her living room window.
She could almost see the dance of lights on the holiday lawn decors again, could almost feel in her hands the warmth of the cup of tea that Ross had prepared for her before he went upstairs to tuck the kids to bed. She could almost…
Here she goes again. Rachel smiled wistfully, shaking her head as she willed herself out of her whimsies. Three years since that last happened. Two years since she was forced to abandon the idea that it would happen again. She should stop doing it. Really, she should…
=====
Shifting the four-year-old Emma in his arms, Ross pulled the top covers and gently laid his daughter down to her bed. Emma opened her eyes momentarily, gurgled a few words before drifting back to sleep with a soft smile on her lips. Affectionately, Ross smiled and gently pushed the honey curls away from her face, brushing a soft kiss against her forehead. "Night-night, Ems…" he whispered, straightening up as he tucked the covers underneath the girl.
Hard as he tried not to think about Rachel, he finally learned to accept the fact that it was impossible. Everyday, Emma was growing to remind him more and more of his estranged wife. From the deep blue eyes, to the honey-colored hair, to the distinctive chin that was slowly becoming prominent in Emma's features, to the girl's developing fashion sense, Emma is the little Rachel—which was why moving on from Rachel hadn't exactly been a piece of cake for him.
"Rachel..." It still hurt to say her name, but somehow he had to get it out of his system. His chest felt tight hearing it, but he also knew that if he didn't release it, the pain would be ten times worse. This evening, in particular, his mind has been replaying that painful part of his life. He wished it would stop, but it wouldn't. It wouldn't quit until he was filled with the emotions he felt back then. He liked to think that he was finally moving on, but then moments like this still come and take him back to step one.
Ross shook his head, willing himself to snap out of it. If he didn't, he'd get teary-eyed again or be filled with bitterness towards Rachel, which wouldn't be good for the kids. It's bad enough that James and Emma had to be flown back and forth between him and Rachel just so they could have both parents. And for him to hold this grudge against Rachel? It's not healthy. She is still, after all, the mother of his children.
Quietly, Ross stood up and left Emma's room. Once in the hallway, he glanced at the window at the end of the narrow passage and then at the time on his wristwatch: 11 pm. He wasn't sleepy yet, and he knew if he went to bed, thoughts of Rachel would only pervade his mind, so he opted not to hit the sack just yet.
He went downstairs, into the kitchen with every intention of making himself some tea. But then at the last minute, he pulled out a small pint of mint-chocolate ice cream from the freezer instead, and headed to the living room to wind down in his favorite chair by the window overlooking the dazzling display of Christmas lights against the snow-covered ground.
After scooping a spoonful of ice cream from the tub, meticulously picking out the mint-chocolate bits, Ross brought the spoonful into his mouth. He shivered, swallowing the creamy coldness as he watched the descent of snow outside his window. Unthinkingly, he reached behind him and pulled the fleece blanket hanging over the back of the chair and wrapped it snuggly around him. He wasn't sure why he does that, really, eating ice cream despite the already chilly weather and then wrapping himself with a blanket. He started doing it at some point. He just couldn't remember when or even from whom he learned what he now thought was a peculiar practice. But, there was really something that felt familiar about it. He just couldn't pinpoint what it was exactly.
As he racked his brains, his attention was brought to the two large boxes in the corner of the living room. Those two boxes contained the last of Rachel's things in his house. He had been cleaning every night for the past month, de-cluttering the entire house of its unnecessary junk. So when he came across Rachel's things, he decided to pack them all in boxes, hoping that someday he'd find the courage to face her again so he could give them to her personally. But right now, he was simply not yet ready for any of that. Someday soon he would be, though. He really wanted to…because as much as he dared to deny it, deep down inside, he still misses Rachel.
=====
Rachel slid her svelte body between the crack of the two glass doors imprinted with big, bold letters of D&G. Once in the conference room, she placed the folders she had been carrying on top of the long chrome table, occupying majority of the black and white chic room, and took a seat on one of the black suede chairs. A few fashion savvy individuals, already there, greeted her in thick Italian; but Rachel merely returned the salutation with a polite smile. She could already pick up on many of the Italian words and phrases, but she couldn't, for the life of her, condition her tongue to roll with Italian effortlessly.
"Grazie," she muttered in awkward Italian as she was handed a copy of the meeting's agenda. Before she could even look through it, a light tap on her shoulder reeled her head sideways.
Grinning at her was Cameron, the only other American in the room, the one girl she found a friend in all these months living in a foreign country.
"Guess what?" Cameron bubbled with excitement.
"What?" Rachel smiled.
"What is the one thing you wish you can have this Christmas?"
Rachel tilted her head to the side, pretending to ponder the question. "Hmm…a pay raise?" She laughed lightly.
Cameron rolled her eyes. "No. The other thing. That one out of context reply you gave me about three weeks ago when I asked if I could set you up on a date with my friend visiting from London."
Wrinkling her forehead in confused consideration, Rachel shook her head. "Okay. You got me. I can't remember…"
"Your kids?" Cameron reminded. "How you want to spend the holidays with them, remember?"
"Yeah…" Rachel nodded involuntarily. "Because last year, they came here…but this year, they're spending the holidays with their father…"
"Right." Cameron gave Rachel a tight-lipped smile before flooding into an even wider one. "But all that's changing now…"
Rachel couldn't be more confused, so she just leaned back and arched one inquisitive brow.
Cameron's eyes twinkled as she licked her bottom lip in one momentary pause. "Dolce and Gabbana needs to send someone to New York to take care of a few business there for three weeks and I recommended you and the bosses approved," she gushed in excitement, slapping a hand over her mouth when she realized the attention she had drawn to her and Rachel. "Sorry…" she grinned sheepishly.
"What?" Rachel asked disbelievingly. "When did this happen?"
"Last week." Cameron made sure to whisper this time. "They took my recommendation just yesterday, though…I'll be joining you for the last week, but isn't this great? Your kids won't be able to come, but you can go to them!" Her expression changed, noticing that Rachel was not as enthused as she pictured she would be. "What? What's wrong? I thought you'd be excited to hear this…"
"Nothing…" Rachel shook her head blindly. "It's just that it's Ross's turn with the kids and I can't…" Her voice trailed, unable to find the words to finish her sentence.
"Can't what, Rachel?" Cameron pressed, her face turning sour. "They're your kids too. And c'mon, they're staying with him all year long. What's a day, really? Is your husband some kind of a monster or something?"
"No, he's not." Rachel chuckled nervously. Something about referring to Ross as her husband gave her a certain level of unease. They have been separated for so long that their marriage would no longer count as valid. On the other hand, maybe it could…if they chose to work on it. In every legal aspect of it, she and Ross were still married anyway. They're separated, but they never really divorced…at least not yet. She sighed, keeping her focus. "No, he's not," she repeated. "It's just that I don't want to take this time from him, you know? The kids have been spending the holidays with me and this is actually the first time that they'll spend it with their father…so I don't want to be the monster to ruin that."
"That's not ruining anything." Cameron ranted. A divorced woman and a mother of three children herself, she knew what Rachel was going through. She knew how tough and sticky such situation can be, but she strongly believed that as the one who gave birth to the children, the mother has the right to keep them. "You still love him, don't you?" she asked from out of the blue. That was the only explanation she could think of why Rachel was always giving way.
"What?" Rachel protested. "Now where did that come from?"
"From your face," Cameron pointed out. "You don't have to deny it. It's all over your face! I see it everyday. The way you give way to him. The way you just decline every man who, mind you, and forgive me for saying this, are probably better than your sleazy husband."
"What?" Rachel's jaw dropped. "Ross is not sleazy," she grumbled under her breath, instinctively feeling the urge to defend him for being wrongly judged.
"This is exactly what I'm talking about!" Cameron spoke purposefully. "Rachel, honey, you still defend him…"
"Well, he's not sleazy…" Rachel rambled stubbornly like a child. "I'm sorry if your ex-husband beat you up, but Ross…he's not…like that…"
Cameron sighed and stared at Rachel sympathetically. "Rachel," she touched her shoulder. "I know we probably didn't have the exact same experience, but leave just a little something for yourself. You know, just a teeny-tiny bit." She gestured by holding her thumb and index finger so closed to each other. "Believe me, I've been there. Try not to get yourself any more hurt…"
=====
"A divorce lawyer?" Monica stared at the white card disbelievingly and shot a look at her older brother as she shifted Daniel, her 18-month old adopted child, in her arms, dancing around her soon-to-be-opened restaurant.
"Yes," Ross matter-of-factly replied, swiftly swiping a hand in time to snatch the business card that Monica snatched from him in the first place. "It's about time, don't you think?" He slid the card abruptly slid it into his breast pocket.
Monica considered the question for a minute and then smirked. "Eh…" Her hesitation was far from ambiguous. Sure, her brother has enough grounds for divorce, but it didn't mean that it's the best thing to do, did it? Granted, Rachel cheated. Granted, Ross couldn't find it in his heart to forgive her. "But what about James and Emma?" she wanted to scream out loud. She wasn't particularly happy about what Rachel did. Still, she really thought Ross and Rachel should work out their problems for the sake of their children.
"You don't seem convinced," Ross noted, idly toying with a swan napkin sitting on top of a plate setting in one of the tables.
"I'm not," came Monica's firm reply. "And don't touch that!" She slapped her brother's hand before he ruined the meticulously folded napkin.
Ross grimaced, rubbing his hand before he pulled one cushioned chair to sit on. He rested his elbow on the table and accidentally pushed a plate nearly over the edge, earning him a displeased glare from his pedantic sister.
"Are you planning to ruin my restaurant before it even gets to be opened to the public?" Monica scolded.
"Geez, relax Mon." Ross rolled his eyes. "I am not going to ruin your restaurant. But in all fairness, your restaurant is…" He looked around the restaurant's neutral interiors. The whole place wasn't completely done, but he could tell the place would be a calming haven once all the finishing and furniture were put into place. "Cozy and relaxing…" he offered. "Just the way you've always wanted…"
Monica beamed proudly. "Yeah…the way I've always wanted…"
Ross grinned, satisfied. He had just skillfully pressed Monica's hot button, so he was sure Monica would now go on and on about her new business, dropping the subject of his plans for divorce once and for all. He really didn't want to involve far more people than necessary. In fact, he wasn't planning on telling anybody until the initial process of the divorce was underway. If the business card didn't slip from his hand, Monica wouldn't have even known about it.
Unfortunately, Monica did, and she was not about to let it go easily. Realizing what her brother had done, she went to a screeching halt and paused to look at her brother. "I see what you're trying to do here…" She shook a finger to his face. "Nah-uh. It's not going to work. You have to tell me when you thought about this whole divorce thing."
Releasing a gusty sigh, Ross absentmindedly traced the pattern on the china in front of him. "I told you, it's about time. That's all there is to it."
Monica wrinkled her brow, taking a seat next to her brother. "Is this because of your new girlfriend?"
"Carrie?" Ross arched a brow. "No," he stated firmly for the record. "Besides, I wouldn't go as far as referring to someone I've gone out with for only a couple of dates a girlfriend already…well, three, if we're already going to count the charity ball at the university next week."
"Well, that's how my sources referred to 'Daddy's new friend' when he went out on a date last night…" Monica smirked.
"James and Emma?" Ross lifted an eyebrow, taking a sip of the glass of lemonade Monica served him when he came. He had a good idea exactly how his sister would get the inside scoop about his dating life in less than twenty-four hours.
Monica nodded. "Yeah, they called me, asking 'Aunt Monica, what is sex and will my Daddy have that tonight?'"
Ross nearly spat out the lemonade in his mouth. "They asked that?"
"Well, Chunky-Monkey did…" Monica shrugged. "Three things Ross: James is growing up, he watches a lot of TV, and he is not stupid. And Emma? Just right behind him. I'm just so glad that Daniel's still too young for me to start worrying about that…"
"What did you tell him?"
"Nothing…I figured it's none of my business. I told them to ask you, though…"
Ross vented out a sigh of relief. "Thanks…you know, for caring."
"No problem." Monica shrugged. "I love your kids like they're my own…" She smiled, but slowly her smile turned with a mischievous twinkle. "But, speaking of your date…well, did you, you know, do it?" She wiggled her brows.
"What?" Ross instantly flicked to a defensive mode.
"Oh, c'mon!" Monica teased. "Did you?"
"I can't believe I'm having this conversation with you." Ross shook his head. "But just so you know…no. I- we didn't do it, okay?" He sighed, his gaze resting on his hands steepled together in front of him. Like a little boy, he went on. "I couldn't do it. I feel like I'm cheating on Rachel or something…and I shouldn't…"
"And hence came the idea for divorce…" came Monica's sarcastic comment, making Ross roll his eyes. "Well, in a way, you are still married to her…" She wryly pointed out. "But going back to the topic, you did try to go for it," she added as a statement rather than a question.
"No." Ross smiled, almost as if he was amused by it himself. "I dropped her off at her apartment, walked her to her door like a gentleman…and…said goodbye…"
"That's it?" Monica tilted her head to the side. "No kiss or anything?"
Ross chuckled lightly, shaking his head. "Unless a peck on the cheek counts…"
Monica giggled, very much relieved. It really was no secret to anybody, even to Ross, who she wanted him to be with. So every once in a while, she really liked to get a status report of her brother's dating life. "Oh poor you…" She pulled a face with feigned sympathy. "Are you sure you're ready to divorce Rachel?"
Ross rolled his eyes, grabbing his briefcase as he stood up to leave. "I'm sure I want closure from her. I know that much." He smiled good-naturedly, kissing his sister and his nephew goodbye. "I don't know if I'll see you again, but if I don't…Don't forget to be there for James and Emma's program thingy in two days…" He stopped short of the door before turning around to his sister again. "By the way, what's the best way to remove an ink stain on the carpet?"
"You've been cleaning your house, huh?" Monica giggled a little bit.
"Yeah. Just trying to get rid of the extra clutter." Ross shrugged before flooding into a smile. "When I'm not out on dates—and that's like, all the time—I clean."
Monica laughed out loud, but slowly her face grew more serious. "Ross, I don't mean meddle with your life, but I think you should really consider a reconciliation with Rachel…for James and Emma?"
Ross looked away, unable to find any other words to say. His mind was a jumble already, which was why he was taking this one step at a time, divorce being step number one to pull himself together. He simply couldn't add to it anymore. "Mon, I…I don't know…"
Monica smiled softly, sympathetically, having the slightest idea what her brother was going through. "Just think about it…"
=====
James tiptoed and pressed his nose against the door's window to get a peek inside Emma's classroom. It was his recess and he just wanted to stop by to see his sister to make sure that no one bullies her. As her big brother, he felt like it was his duty to protect her, especially now that she's in the same school as he.
As if expecting him, Emma looked toward the door and waved at him when she saw him. James smiled and waved back, pulling faces at her, making her giggle, before waving goodbye. He knew how boring those preschool classes could be, so he always made sure Emma has something to laugh about. Besides, this could be the only way he could bribe her so she wouldn't tell on his mischievous little games to his Daddy. The more Emma thinks of him as the fun big brother, he's hoping and crossing his fingers, the less she'd tell on him. It was about time, he thought, for Emma to stop her tell-all ways.
Pleased with himself, he held his lunchbox tightly and dashed to the lunchroom by the end of the hall. He stopped by the blue entrance and carefully scanned the room, looking for a new girl to sit with. He sighed. He had just about sat with every girl in his class that nobody sitting in the lunchroom stood out in mind. Well, maybe Nicole. He always thought she looked kind of cute.
Taking a deep breath, he did a mental activation of his charms. He walked across the room, towards her table, but right about halfway, he heard someone softly crying, so he stopped. Looking around, he realized that the sniffling came from his classmate, Madison. Like him, Madison's mommy doesn't live with him and his daddy.
Feeling the sympathy tugging at his heartstrings, he opted to forego lunch with Nicole. Instead, he pulled the empty chair across from Madison and carefully set his lunchbox in front of him. "Why are you crying?"
Madison didn't reply, but the boy next to him, Noah, did. "Because his parents are divorcing."
"Divorcing?" James arched a brow.
"My mommy said it's when a mommy and daddy don't live together anymore so they can marry other people," Noah nonchalantly replied, taking a big bite of his sandwich. "Are your parents divorced?"
James shook his head. "No…"
"But they don't live together, though…"
"Yeah, but that's because my Mommy works in Italy."
"Are you sure?"
James nodded slowly, suddenly frightened by the thought posed by the classmate. He never thought much about his current living situation with his parents, but what if…
Noah shrugged. "Madison's mommy doesn't live with his daddy either…Right, Madison?"
Madison nodded. "For a long time now because they always fight. Do your mommy and daddy fight, James?"
"No…" James shook his head. "I told you, my Mommy's in Italy."
"How long?" Noah investigated.
"A long time…" James replied hesitantly. "But she's gonna come home, I know. I always wish that she will…"
"Well, keep wishing." Noah finished his sandwich. "Because sometimes parents divorce and they don't tell the kids. Madison's mommy and daddy didn't tell him that they're divorcing until yesterday. So now, Madison has to move to a far, far place with his mommy after the divorce and his daddy is going to marry his girlfriend…" He shrugged his shoulders. "And that's why he's crying…"
=====
The blackening New York skyline was dull in comparison to the snow-dusted streets down below as millions of tiny bright lights enwrapped themselves around every fenced tree, every lamppost, every street sign, and seemingly every trash bin in sight. Bright headlights added to the brightness as impatient drivers waited for the much too slow traffic to move. Thousands of people filled the sidewalks, all going about their own business, oblivious to the person walking next to them. Some were carrying briefcases, some were carrying shopping bags decorated with the latest Christmas motif, and some were just strolling lazily, seemingly watching the world pass them by.
New York City—the epitome of the always busy, always fast-moving world. The scene below her feet was really not much different from the metropolis she had been waking up to in Milan, but something about New York City still rung out home.
Home. The familiar. The place you run to when the world threatens your sanity. Carrying these thoughts in mind, Rachel left the window and threw herself down on the queen-sized bed in the middle of her hotel room. She wasn't even sure why she agreed on taking this assignment. Since her flight touched the ground, she had been nothing but edgy. Sure, she wanted nothing more than to see her kids, but a part of her couldn't help but feel apprehensive. If home was really the place you run to when the world threatens your sanity, then it sure was definitely not the case for her.
"You're going to be fine, Rach," she kept convincing herself, fighting so hard the urge to exploit the mini bar. She was on the verge of doing it. She was just holding back because she really wanted to drive up to see James and Emma later tonight.
Except, she was a little apprehensive about Ross…the prospect of seeing him, and he, her. He knew nothing about this so she was worried about how he would react when they come face to face. Two years with no attempt to communicate with her was certainly not a clear indication that his anger has faded, and the thought was certainly not very comforting. Still, she wanted to see her kids. They're hers too, aren't they?
With a worried sigh, Rachel glanced at the telephone. There's only one way to find out…
=====
Limping a little, Ross struggled as he walked towards the house, carrying a briefcase, a small box of mail, a couple of bags of groceries, and a small plastic bag, he's carrying with his teeth, containing the pictures that he got developed. "James, Emma, I'm home!" he hollered as soon as he dropped the pictures down to the floor when he entered through the front door.
"Good," Emma commented, running in from the hallway. "Then you can fix my hair."
"Fix your hair?" Ross echoed, furrowing his brow at his four-year-old. "Princess, can you pick up that bag that Daddy dropped? Please?"
"Daddy, I'm an angel for the play. I have to look pretty," Emma stated as-a-matter-of-factly, holding out her angel costume, swaying from side to side before doing what she was told. "Do you think I should put glitters in my hair? It makes it shiny and I want my hair to shine…" she continued as she followed her father to the kitchen. "You know, like an angel…"
Ross chuckled, shaking his head as he listened to his daughter. Emma was too cute beyond words whenever she would get all worked up about something. Her mouth just couldn't seem to find the stop button and her eyes would carry this glow that was just filled with much passion and determination. People said that it was the Geller in her, but he couldn't be convinced. He had always thought it was the Rachel in her.
After depositing everything in his hands onto the kitchen counter, he scooped his little darling in his arms and squeezed her tight. "Hi," Ross greeted again. "You haven't given Daddy a kiss. Did you know that? You know what Daddy needs whenever he comes home from work tired and everything…"
Emma grinned sweetly and wrapped her arms tightly around her father's neck. "Ooops, sorry…" she mumbled before planting a loud, firm kiss on her father's cheek. "Okay, done. Now, you fix my hair."
"You're one feisty little girl, aren't you?" Ross laughed, sitting his daughter on the table. "So, how was your day? Did you give Holly a hard time again?" he asked, smiling at the children's long-time nanny when she appeared in the kitchen to bid her farewell for the day.
"No…" Emma replied 'innocently,' waving at Holly.
"No, she didn't," Holly said. "She just repeatedly took off the ponytail I fixed her hair in because, to quote her, 'It's not good enough!'"
"It's not!" Emma defended whiningly. "I'm an angel and I—"
"Have to look pretty…" finished the long-time babysitter, smiling at the child. "Bye Ems. I'll see you tomorrow…and good luck to Daddy fixing your hair for the play…" She laughed. "Bye, Dr. Geller."
"Thanks, Holly," Ross replied before the children's nanny left, finishing up the rather messy ponytail behind Emma's head. "There…all done…" He handed the girl a handheld mirror from the counter. "Well, what do you think? Do you like it?"
Emma groaned dramatically. "Oh no! Now I look like a fallen angel!"
"You think?" Ross laughed, silently wondering what exactly his daughter was picturing when she said 'fallen angel.' Emma has, after all, a very overactive imagination.
Before her Daddy could even say another word, Emma shook off her ponytail and gestured for him to put her down to the floor.
"Hey," Ross protested. "I worked hard on that…"
"But it's not good enough…"
Ross shook his head. "What exactly do you have in mind that you want yourself to look like?"
"The angel from the fashion show in Italy," Emma replied with surety. "Mommy worked with her and she looked pretty…"
"Oh…Italy…" Ross muttered, bringing Emma down to the floor. It seemed to him that only Rachel would be able to help the girl at this point. Unfortunately, Rachel wasn't there. "I'll tell you what. Draw it and we'll see what we can do…" he added with a wink.
"Really?" Emma's eyes widened, half-convinced. "You can do that?"
"Maybe…" Ross smiled affectionately at the girl. "Now go. You don't want to be late for the play, do you?"
"No…"
"Then go…" he nudged her.
Ross chuckled as she watched his daughter scurry out of the room. "Emma, Emma, Emma…" he mumbled fondly. He'd certainly miss the girl when she and James would go to Italy again to stay with Rachel come next summer.
Before his mind wandered to the 'forbidden' territory called Rachel, he busied himself with other things. With much curiosity, he began digging through the bag of pictures he got developed earlier that day. All the cleaning he has been doing had led him to the discovery of the disposable cameras in many corners of the house. He had no idea how long they've been in the drawers, but he took his chance and brought them to the photo store. Surprisingly, they all turned out, he was told—or if they didn't, the photo place just overcharged him for all fifteen disposable cameras he brought to their store.
He was about to pull out the pictures from the first stack when the phone rang. Without even looking, he slid the pictures back into the packet and tossed it back into the bag with all the rest. He walked towards the counter, where the phone was, but before he could pick it up, his cellphone rang from his pocket. He pulled it out immediately. Seeing that it was Carrie calling, he picked it up instead of the landline. "Hey…" he answered just in time the answering machine answered the other call.
The other caller didn't leave a message, so Ross just shrugged his shoulders. "Probably just a telemarketer," he thought, picking up his briefcase on his way upstairs.
=====
"Hi, you have reached Ross, James, and Emma," the answering machine picked up, Ross, James, and Emma speaking respectively. "Sorry…but we're not available right now," Emma's sweet little voice continued. "So please just leave your name, your number, and a short message," James continued. "And we'll call you right back," Ross finished.
"Machine…" Rachel blindly mumbled as she put the phone back to the cradle, not bothering to leave a message. She sighed. "There goes nothing…"
Should she call back or should she wait until tomorrow? She really didn't know, so she just fluffed the pillows and threw her head back down. She was still adjusting to her new time zone anyway. Maybe she should just wait, she tried to convince herself.
"Yeah…tomorrow might be better…" she mumbled softly. She closed her eyes and tossed and turned…and tossed and turned. Irritated after a few more minutes of tossing and turning, she rolled onto her stomach and pulled out the blindfold that she saw in the nightstand drawer. She put it on, adjusting the elastic band behind her head before hitting the pillows once more. All she had to do was to sleep this through. First thing in the morning, she'd call Ross and arrange to see her kids in the afternoon.
"That's the plan…" She yelled out loud, convincing herself. But after another fifteen more tedious minutes of tossing and turning, she finally gave up and pushed herself up into a sitting position, pulling down her blindfold. "Okay, I have to do something right now…" she grunted, grabbing her coat before fleeing out of the room.
=====
"I'm stubborn. I believe…"
James's eyes flung open when he heard a loud knock outside his door.
"James, why is your door locked? Open up!"
"Daddy!" James gasped, running around in circles in panic. "Why didn't you tell me that he's coming?" he scolded his little sister.
"You didn't ask!" Emma retorted, giggling a little. "James is gonna get busted…" she teased playfully.
James glared at his younger sister and hurriedly covered the camera with a pillowcase before he carried the tripod it was set upon next to his coat rack. "If you say one word," he warned Emma, pointing a finger at her.
"Don't point your finger at me!" Emma snapped back haughtily, hands on hips as she stood up.
James rolled his eyes, sticking out his tongue at his sister. "Hey, you're in on this as much as I am…"
"James?" His father called from outside his door again, his knocks becoming louder.
After another warning glare at the tell-all sister, James opened the door. "Hi, Dad!" he greeted cheerfully with an ecstatic hand wave.
"What have you been doing?" Ross asked suspiciously, glancing around the boy's bedroom. Whenever James would take a long time to answer his door, usually the boy was up to something. Smarter and taller, James might have become, but mischief was still up his sleeves.
"Nothing…" James shrugged, casually walking over to his sister to put a hand on her mouth. "Just hanging out with Emma…"
"Oh," Ross nodded. "Just hanging out, huh?"
"Yup!" James gave out an emphatic nod. "We need to bond…me and my sister."
"Let me go!" Emma wriggled free from her brother's grasp, and when she freed herself she ran straight to their father. "Daddy," she said in a whisper, tugging at Ross's pantleg to get his attention. She made him go down so she could whisper a 'secret' to him—much to James' chagrin.
Smiling, Ross listened to his daughter as she spilled out James' secret. "What's a pocket-tary?" he asked her while Emma continued on with her story.
"It's a documentary!" James grumbled, hearing this, glaring at Emma. She did it again: busted his plans and put him on the limb.
"Ha!" Ross mumbled with amusement in his voice as he looked at the direction that Emma pointed to. He shook his head at his mischievous son, looking at him straight in the eyes before retrieving his video camera from behind the pillowcase. "Can't say I'm too happy about this, James," he spoke in a strict voice, clearly defining his authority. "But I'll let this go this one time…"
James released a very long relieved sigh. "Ah, thank you!" he muttered breathlessly.
Ross chuckled a little, definitely glad that the boy was finally warming up to him again. For a while, James had acted rather cold towards him, talking to him only when asked, looking at him only when called. He knew James still blames him for Rachel leaving, but at least now James was finally talking to him again.
Shaking his head, Ross walked towards his son and put a hand on his shoulder. "I guess you should start getting ready then. Which one are you again? The shepherd boy?"
"No," James replied. "I'm one of the three kings…"
Ross smiled, planting a kiss on James's head only to land his lips on the boy's rather crunchy hair. "Did you use my gel on your hair?"
James looked up at his father and slowly broke into a guilty grin, revealing his missing two front teeth.
"You really want to be called Little Ross, don't you?" Ross joked, smiling at the miniature version of him.
James scrunched up his face. "I'm not Little Ross…"
"Yes you are!" Emma yelled from behind, jumping up and down her brother's bed.
"I'm not!"
"You are!"
"I'm not!" James stuck out a tongue at his little sister.
"Okay, this could go on forever…" Ross laughed, carrying Emma with him as he left the room. "James, go get ready. We're leaving in 45 minutes," he told the boy as he was closing the door.
"Daddy?" James stopped his father.
"Yeah?" Ross pushed the door a crack wider.
James sighed. Thoughtful. Hesitant. "Do you think my wish will ever come true?"
Ross was pensive for a moment, carefully deliberating the boy's question. He had a gut feeling that James' wish had something to do with Rachel. Unfortunately, it was that one wondering that he had no sure answers for. "Well…I guess it depends on what you're wishing for…" He took the safer route, not wanting to disappoint his son.
"I see…" James' face fell. His Daddy knew what his wish was and his reply told him that one wish would not be granted him. Somehow, the thought just pushed the fact back to his mind that he's going to end up a lot like Madison, and this scared him. Mommy really needs to come home soon…
Ross pressed his lips together, suddenly feeling that he was the world's cruelest parent. He hated to see James like this, but what could he do? He really didn't know anymore. As much as he wanted to give everything to his children, he was very doubtful that he and Rachel could still make it as a couple. In the end, it just might do them more harm than good. He had run this drill in his head over and over, but every time it always boils to one thing: if he and Rachel got back together for the sake of their kids, it just might be the worst mistake they would ever make—worse than Rachel sleeping with Hugh or him pushing Rachel away as he wallowed in self-pity. He and Rachel have a lot of issues to work on…so many that he couldn't just go for it and risk James and Emma's feelings. He loves them too much to hurt them.
Ross sighed and then cleared his throat, worried by his son's silence. "James, you okay son?"
James drew in a deep breath and slowly lifted his face. "Yeah…" he nodded slowly. Expressionlessly, he walked towards the door. "I'm gonna change…" he muttered in a flat tone. Without another word, he closed the door to his father's face, leaving Ross on the other side of the door, wondering if he should talk to the boy or to simply let it go again this time…
=====
"There's a wolf out there!" Emma whiningly pointed out as she stared out the narrow glass window next to the front door.
"Princess, I'm telling you, there's nothing there," Ross patiently explained as he tied a white silk ribbon around Emma's ponytail. "Okay, don't mess with it again," he warned in a mock-stern voice when Emma, once again, brought a hand to her hair.
"But, Daddy, there is!" Emma insisted. "Do you see that white thing next to the tree?"
Ross peered outside the window, to where Emma was pointing. "Sweetie, that's just a pile of snow."
"It's not!" Emma's eyes widened in one stubborn insistence.
Knowing that Emma wouldn't quit until she touched the pile of snow herself, Ross quickly grabbed his coat and wrapped it around his daughter before took her outside. "Touch it," he instructed patiently, pointing to the pile of snow the girl was pointing to from inside the house.
"I don't wanna…" Emma's voice quivered. "I'm scared…"
Ross chuckled. "Ems, it's not a wolf. There's no wolf around here…" Ross explained patiently, while Emma listened. "Sweetie, do you even know what a wolf is?"
Slowly, Emma shook her head, her lips upturned in a pouty-lipped smile. "No…but my friend Irene's sister said that it lives in the snow…just not in places where there are lots of houses around…like…like our house…"
Ross rolled his eyes, squeezing and shaking Emma as he carried her back to the house. "Little girl, I don't know what to do with you anymore…"
Emma giggled, enjoying her little playful moment. "Daddy, can't breathe…" She made fake gagging faces, earning her a round of tickling from her father.
"Okay, angel. Time for Daddy to finish getting ready for your show." Ross put his daughter down on the floor, shutting the door closed.
"Can I put your tie on you?" Emma's eyes widened with sheer excitement.
"Sure," Ross mumbled tentatively, smiling down at his child. "It's going to take forever to untangle your way of tying it, but sure. Why not?" He laughed, good-naturedly patting the girl on the cheek. "Now, you stay here and wait while Daddy gets his tie upstairs, okay?"
Obediently, Emma nodded.
"Daddy?"
"Yeah?" Ross turned around when he reached the fifth step.
"Are you gonna make Carrie my new mommy?"
"Says who?" Ross arched an inquisitive brow.
"James…" Emma replied, grimacing.
"Huh? James…" Ross mumbled, rubbing his chin. "What else did James say?"
"That Mommy's not coming home because you have a girlfriend…" Emma shook her head. "Oh, never mind. I said that." She grinned guiltily, putting a finger over her lips.
Ross laughed. Somehow, he had a feeling that he needed to clear a few things up with his children…especially matters regarding Carrie. "Well…I'll tell you what. We'll talk about it in the car. You, me, and James are going to have a very long talk about Carrie later. Is that a deal?"
Emma gave her father a thumbs-up and beamed. "Deal."
With a smile, Ross vanished up the staircase.
Emma, bored already, went to sit on the steps and idly smoothed her long white dress. She stared outside through the narrow window again. Finding nothing that caught her interest this time, she stifled a long yawn. "Daddy," she called over, yelling at the top of her lungs. "Can Starly really make wishes come true?"
"No," James grumbled sulkily as he bounded down the stairs, holding a crown and royal blue cape.
"You look good, James," Emma offered kindly, looking down at her own costume as she ran a quick mental comparison in her head, secretly hoping that she'd get a compliment as well.
She didn't. James was in too rotten of a mood to even pay attention to anything. Sullen, he went straight to the coat closet and retrieved his coat. Once he put it on, he took a seat at the very bottom of the staircase next to his little sister, resting his elbows to his knees, his face sinking deep into his hands. "I don't want to play one of that stupid kings anymore. I just want to stay at home…"
"You do?" Emma's face crumpled.
"I'm the only one who doesn't have a Mommy there…" James complained.
Thoughtful for a moment, Emma scratched her head. "Your friend Madison don't have a Mommy…She lives in a different place."
"Yeah," James snorted. "That's because his parents are divorcing." Emma might not see it just yet, but he could. The signs, the comparisons to his classmates whose parents were divorced…they were all there already, ever so consistent with his life, his parents' life. For two days, he didn't let this bother him, but now, he couldn't do it anymore. So really, if his wish didn't come true tonight, for sure, first thing in the morning he would be like Madison.
James shook his head. "Emma, don't you get it? His mommy lives in a different place. Mommy lives in a different place, too. His daddy has a girlfriend. Daddy has a girlfriend too. It's happening to us too. Don't you see it?"
Confused, Emma wrinkled her face. "What's divorce?"
James rolled his eyes. "Oh, stop asking. Even if I tell you, you won't understand anyway. You're just going to be happy all the time and not even care."
"Why? Do you want me to feel sad?"
James released his frustration in one deep sigh. "Just…shush," he snapped. After another moment, he stood up, about ready make his way upstairs. "I'm not gonna go…Besides, I don't like Mrs. Butler anyway," he added, suddenly remembering the tall, red-haired program coordinator. "She's old and she always looks mad."
A puzzled frown crossed his little sister's face. Emma thought for a moment, but when her big brother said that he's not going, it almost became a no-brainer to her. "Okay…if you're not going, then I'm not going too…" She tugged on her ponytail and soft honey curls came tumbling down below her shoulders.
"Whatever…" James merely shrugged.
"Wait!" Emma called to her brother. "James, do you think there are polar bears outside? My friend Irene's sister said that they live in the snow…"
"No," James knowingly replied. "They live in the snow, but not here."
"Then what is that that moved outside?" Emma asked innocently, pointing an unseen shadow in the dark. "Do you think it's a ghost?"
"Emma!" James was exasperated from his sister's ridiculousness. "There are no polar bears out there and there is definitely no ghost out there."
"But…"
Before his sister could even finish her sentence, James jumped to the bottom step, tripping a little before he made his way towards the door. Putting his hand on the knob, he looked straight at his sister, and in a big-brotherly fashion, explained. "There are no polar bears or ghosts out there. See!" In one sweeping manner, he pulled the door opened and gasped at the sight that welcomed him. "Mommy?"
"Rachel?" Ross asked at the same time, stopping dead on his tracks as he made his way downstairs.
One sheepish "hello" was all it took and the room was immediately swept into a deafening oblivion of silence.
To be continued…