Chapter 11 – Almost and Never

"Almost saved you and myself. Almost won, but it doesn't count. It never does."

- Tracy Chapman, "Almost"

November 27, 2042

London, Ontario

Canada

Derek had an uneasy sleep the night before, but it was uneasy for a different reason. For the past eight years, he hadn't slept well because he'd been worrying and wondering about Michael. The unsettled sleep became so common that he barely noticed it. But last night he didn't sleep well because he knew Michael was in the house, right across the hall…for now. That resulted in a whole mess of emotional crap that messed with his shut eye.

For all that he didn't like routines, Derek could admit that routines were good things when you were half asleep. Thursday morning dawned and he trudged through the beginning like it was any other Thursday morning. Part of him knew it was different, however. It was like waiting for the other shoe to drop. Would he run into Michael in the hall in the morning? Would he hear him moving around as he went out to grab the paper? Would Emily go to check on Michael and discover him not there again?

Did he just dream the whole return in the first place?

He was beginning to think the latter as he met his daughter and wife for breakfast. For a moment, he found the bacon and chocolate pancakes a little out of place. It wasn't something that had been fixed for breakfast in the house for years. He was too tired to think but so much about it, but part of his head wondered if he'd just missed Michael at breakfast. That was probably why he just said, "Good morning" and started on the paper. If his head were more in the game, he probably would have had something to say about what his daughter had chosen to wear to school that day.

It was Casey's "Good morning, James," that alerted Derek to the fact that his son has entered the room. "I was just thinking that I might need to send Emily up to get you. Would you like some pancakes?" Casey asked.

"Yes, thank you," Michael said as he sat, ironically in the place where he'd always sat when he lived with them. Derek went back to pretending he was reading the entertainment section. It just another moment that felt like an earlier, happier time. Especially when Casey put the chocolate chip pancakes in front of Michael. She always made these for Michael on special days, like his birthday. It was Casey's first move in the "we love and miss you, Michael" operation that she had probably started planning the moment she realized Michael was at the door yesterday.

After taking a bite of his pancakes, Michael looked back over at Emily in puzzlement, "Wait, I thought Emily said something about having practice this morning?"

"Since you were visiting, I decided to practice after school instead. You know, so I could be around for breakfast and all," Emily smiled. And, although Derek wasn't looking at them, he could bet money that Emily had taken bacon from Michael's plate. She always claimed that it tasted better off of Michael's plate than off her own.

"When are you heading out this morning?" Casey asked Michael. And so, Casey's maneuvering began. Derek knew what she was doing. Derek didn't think a bunch of questions would get him invited along, but Casey wasn't going to let this go until she tried.

"Um…soon, I guess. I hadn't really thought about it. I might need extra time to keep from getting lost." Michael seemed to be perpetually caught of guard by them.

"Lost?" Emily asked

Michael shrugged, "I've only ever been to the cemetery the once, for the burial. And that was years ago. I'm not so sure I'll find it on the first try."

Shit. This was the first time he'd been to see the grave since the service? Derek knew that wasn't something you wanted to do alone. He looked at Casey, whose eyes reflected some of the worry he felt. Looking at his daughter, it looked like she wanted to hug Michael. Turning back to Casey, Derek tried to convey with her eyes to do something so that someone would go with their son.

Casey clearly understood his plea, based on her next statement. "James…your father has lived in London all of his life. He could ride with you, navigate you to where you want to go. I'm sure he wouldn't mind," she finished quietly.

"And still be stuck at a graveyard for hours? Yeah, right," Michael shrugged. "I'll find it. I'll figure it out. I'm used to doing that."

Derek had said something similar when Casey offered to go with him to Sam's grave. He'd even shrugged. At this point Derek wanted to push, he really wanted to push. But he wasn't sure how. At least he could point out that he wouldn't mind spending time in a graveyard with his son.

"There are worse ways to spend a day than at a cemetery," was what he said. And there were. He remembered how he spent the day after Michael left. The first time Michael's birthday had rolled around after he had left. That first Christmas. And then, when that ass-. Derek took a rather savage bite of bacon. He didn't even like thinking of those days then. He didn't want to relive them in his head now.

"Sure, but no one wants a root canal or a five hour French exam," Michael shuttered.

"A French exam?" Derek asked. It seemed Michael had inherited some of Derek's problems with languages, but why mention French of all things?

"I like French," Emily shared quietly.

"You would," Derek would have thought Michael was trying to be rude, if laughter hadn't tinged his reply. Derek almost expected Michael to tack on his custom nickname for Emily, Terror, on the end of that sentence. Instead, Michael added. "I bet you had a much better teacher than I had."

"Madame Davis is great," Emily smiled. "We even have the same name."

Michael coughed at that. "Madame Davis? Really?" Based on his tone, he obviously remembered Emily Davis. It didn't seem like it was a happy memory.

After he'd gotten his coughing under control, Michael turned to look at Casey. "I don't want to be a bother about getting back in. Is there a time I need to return?"

"Oh, well…" Casey stopped to think. "I'll be in and out most of the day. And most of my errands are close. As long as you are back before two or after four this afternoon, the door should be unlocked-"

"You don't lock your doors? Seriously?" Michael was looking back and forth at Casey and Derek like they were crazy. He made not locking doors sound odd. But most of Michael's life, the doors to his home weren't locked before nightfall.

"Not really an issue," Derek replied because it felt like someone needed to answer Michael

"But anyone could walk in! Thieves. Murderers. The press!"

"Now, I don't think a member of the press is the same thing as a murderer," Casey laughed.

"And our neighbors pay attention. We've hadn't had a problem," Derek felt the need to point out. Did Michael feel unsafe for some reason? Is that why there was this sudden focus on locked doors?

"And they won't call the cops on me? You know, since I must be hiding from the law or something," Michael said somewhat snidely. Derek winced internally. That wasn't really what he'd meant or how he'd meant it, even though he was angry when it said it yesterday.

"James-" Casey began, probably in effort to clean up Derek's statement.

"I'll be back by four," Michael cut Casey off as he stood. Surprisingly, he said "Thanks for breakfast," even though he'd barely eaten any of it. Then he walked out of the room, probably on his way to go find this graveyard.

There was a snarky comment floating in the back of his head, but Derek really didn't want to voice it. Instead, he just stuffed more of Casey's pancakes in his mouth. Soon, it was time for Emily to leave. She hugged them both as she left, Casey reminding her to make sure she had her skates. Soon after that, Derek folded his paper and left Casey to her errands.

Initially, he thought he was going to go in to the studio to do work. He even drove in that direction. Instead, he ended up at Tim Horton's. Over doughnuts, Derek read over another pitch from another producer. The pitch letters were beginning to get old, but this one did seem a little interesting. He'd have to follow up with this Lawrence guy at some point.

Derek spent the rest of his day driving around the city. He stopped by Sam's grave, although he wasn't sure why he was there. Maybe it was to someone show solidarity with Michael, at least symbolically. The thing about Sam not being around is that he didn't have a friend who understood what was going on who could knock sense into him if necessary. Derek ended the day at Smellie Nellie's, in the height of the after-school traffic. Luckily he was only going in to pick up something for dessert that night, as a surprise.

As he waited by the counter for the waitress to get his order, he noticed a man sitting in a booth, alone. It looked so much like the older Michael that Derek almost went over. But it couldn't have been. Michael, to Derek's knowledge, never went to Smellie Nellie's as a teen and probably wouldn't go now. This was just probably his mind messing with him, showing him again how he wasn't sure how to fit Michael back into his life again.

Derek came in for dinner before his son. Looking at the load of food on the table, he turned to look at Casey, who was carrying in the salad. "Have enough food, princess?"

"Oh, haha," Casey returned. "This is going to be a nice dinner and I just wanted to be sure that it was special."

"Special or filling?" Derek asked.

Before Casey could reply, Michael joined them in the dining room. His wide eyes pointed to the fact that he was having a similar reaction to the spread as Derek was. This was confirmed when he whispered, "Whoa."

Derek laughed as he moved to the table. As Emily put down the last dish, she and Casey took their seats. Mike asked as he sat down, "Do you eat like this every night?"

"No," Emily laughed.

Casey shrugged, "I just thought some different things might be nice, is all." Derek knew it was more than that, but decided not to comment, but just to sit down and enjoy the food.

Casey had out done herself. She'd probably been planning this since last night. (He had seen some index card on the dresser this morning.) The spread included a Greek salad, Casey's award winning zucchini casserole, Emily's favorite mashed potatoes and gravy, the macaroni and cheese Derek loved, a fruit salsa, and fresh baked rolls. She even made four stuffed tomatoes…and Derek thought he knew what she was trying to do with the tomatoes. The center piece of the meal was one of Casey's specialties, the stuffed pork loin that was Michael's favorite when he lived with them. Like the choice of chocolate chip pancakes this morning, Derek knew Casey's choice for dinner meat was deliberate. If you could say "welcome home" with food, then that was what Casey's dinner did.

After everyone sat, it was quiet for a few moments and people were loading up their plates. There were a few "please pass the" requests, mainly from Casey and Emily. Derek noticed that Michael hadn't yet asked to be passed anything. Derek also noticed that no one had touched the pork yet. Everyone, it seemed, had left the honor of having the first piece to Michael. So what was taking him so long to ask for some?

Derek really had no idea how to ask Michael if anything was wrong, or to let him know that he could have whatever he wanted. Because he couldn't figure out how to phrase what he wanted to say, Derek just said the first thing that occurred to him. "With all of that rabbit food on your plate, you won't have room for any pork."

"Huh?" Michael replied, clearly startled. What was on the boy's mind, Derek had to wonder.

"You know," Casey raised an eyebrow as she looked at Derek, "it's possible that James might want to finish his salad first before partaking in the main course."

Venturi snorted, "And who does that?"

Casey merely cleared her throat and pointed down at her plate. She smiled as she pointed. The two of them had had similar conversations before.

"Okay," Derek conceded, "who, besides you, does that?"

Michael broke in the teasing to insist, "It's a wonderful salad, Mrs. Venturi. And I'm sure it will be enough for me."

That shocked the table into silence. Not the "Mrs. Venturi" title that Michael insisted on using, but the fact that he seemed to be hinting that he wasn't going to eat anything else. The Michael Derek remembered ate a ton of food, much like Derek had at his age. And the pork dish was his favorite.

"You aren't going to have any of the pork?" Derek managed to ask. He had to wonder if Michael thought he wasn't allowed to have some of the main dish from some reason.

"It's Mom's best dish. You have to have some of it," Emily chimed in. Emily was also working to make the dinner work. She'd missed her brother a lot. More than Derek realized, if the smile she had since she saw Michael was anything to go by.

"Are you a vegetarian now, James?" Case asked quietly, raising a possible objection to pork that hadn't occurred to Derek. "I didn't think to ask about dietary needs."

The situation made Derek a little angry, more so at himself than anyone else. Since Michael had been gone, they were no longer sure of what he liked to eat and drink. It was as if they were strangers. Like Michael had registered for some all day meeting and they had forgotten to give him the dietary needs form. Michael was family, his son. Derek should know if Michael was vegetarian, vegan, allergic to pork; Derek should know that about his son. Derek's annoyance at this came through in his statement, "This isn't some snooty conference. You shouldn't have to ask him about food preferences!" And they shouldn't. Because they should know. How horrible of a father was he, then?

Michael seemed to ignore Derek's statement, but he did answer Casey. "No, I'm not a vegetarian. I just don't eat pork."

"Did you stop eating pork for religious reasons?" Emily asked. "I've always admired people who have done that."

That comment at least made Michael laugh and lose some of the strained look on his face. "No, I haven't 'found religion'. At least I haven't found one that bans pork consumption. It's just that pork holds some…bad memories for me."

"Oh," Casey said so quietly that you could barely hear her.

Derek was a little floored. This dish used to be his favorite. Now it held bad memories? What did that actually mean? Derek opened his mouth to say something, but then closed it. He wasn't sure what would come out, so, he thought the best thing might be to keep quiet.

Dinner was almost silent after that. No one knew what to say to Michael's little bombshell. Derek noticed that the boy did eat a stuffed tomato, Casey's casserole, the fruit salsa and a roll in addition to the salad. Derek himself ended up eating extra macaroni and cheese to try to ignore the heavy feeling in his stomach. No one touched the pork. So, either Derek would be having pork sandwiches for weeks, or Casey would take the pork to Marti – she'd eat it and be grateful for a night when she didn't have to cook.

After he'd eaten, Michael quietly excused himself. As everyone else looked pretty finished with dinner, Emily volunteered to clear. Casey thanked her and went to her study for a bit to write. Derek went outside on the front porch for a bit to sort through his thoughts.

It didn't help.

Before he knew it, the evening was coming to a close and he and Casey were both back in their bedroom.

"So, dinner was fun," Derek snarked as he and Casey were getting ready for bed that night. He hadn't meant to be sarcastic, but it just came out. Maybe Lizzie was right when she claimed it was a defense mechanism for him.

"Can we not talk about it?" Casey requested.

"Fine," Derek relented.

"It was just awful," Casey continued. Derek wasn't really surprised that she continued to talk about it after she declared the topic off-limits, but what she said next surprised him. "I'm sorry."

"You're sorry?" Derek asked. "Why?"

"Why?" Casey repeated as she slammed the closet door. "You can ask me that?"

"Would you prefer I said, 'huh'?"

"Derek, think about it. The dinner-"

"The dinner?" Derek prompted.

"It was my idea. My baby. And I dropped the ball. Missed the puck. Lost a syllable in the stanza."

"Huh?"

"The dinner strained things. Dinner was a wreck. Everyone was uncomfortable, especially you and James. I feel like that was my fault," Casey explained.

"No. It wasn't your fault, Case. Not at all. It's Michael's…maybe. Or…well, it's not yours." Derek asserted.

Casey sighed. As she was pulling things out of drawers, mainly to return them a few seconds later, she shared, "All I wanted to do was something nice for him. It's been years since he's been home…and I didn't want to treat it like it was just another Thursday. It isn't just another Thursday." Casey took a deep breath that sounded a little watery. Derek walked over to her and hugged, in part hoping that the hug would keep her from crying. His own feelings were so fucked up that point, he wasn't sure he could deal well with her tears.

Casey took a few minutes to pull herself together (which Derek appreciated) before she continued, "I spent the whole day trying to remember what his favorite dishes were when he was here. Then I ran all over the city making sure I had all the pieces. And all that seemed to do was alienate him. This was worse that that dinner that I tried to make my father all those years ago."

"Because you didn't spill anything? Or because you didn't need the fire department to show up?" Derek had asked as he let Casey go so that he could try to smile at her. The questions were to lighten the mood, but Derek also wondered if that had something to do with Casey's reaction. Whatever was wrong in the dinner, it wasn't something that could be blamed on a kitchen mishap.

"Yes. I think that part of it. I didn't want to scare him off, but I thought the dinner would have been a good thing. Maybe…maybe it was a mistake?"

"Mistake?" Derek snorted. "This whole thing with Michael has been a train-wreck from the beginning! Especially on my part. I didn't say or do one helpful thing since the boy walked through the door yesterday. I mean, people accused me of being a screw up all throughout high school, but I never expected to royally fuck up at this level."

"Derek," Casey said sadly.

"And you know the really fucked up part in all of this?" Derek hated how his voice had sounded higher and watery at the end of the question. He cleared his throat and continued. "I had been planning what I would say to Michael if we ever saw him again. I had been planning it for the last eight years. It included things like 'Welcome home' and 'I love you, son'. I had had years to wade through my fucking fff-feelings and come up with some words. Last Christmas, I had even almost put some of them on your index cards."

"Oh, Derek."

"And do I say any of that? Any of that at all, Case?" Derek ran his hands through his hair as he paced. "Three meals. We have had three meals together and I haven't fucking welcomed him once. I have the directions in my mind, but for some fucking reason I'm not following the script."

Casey didn't say anything to that, but he knew she was listening.

"And, just to add insult to injury, Michael had been talking to his mother. For the past eight years I've no idea where the fuck he was. I worried about him everyday damn day. I took on projects that I hoped might help me run into him. And, when he finally decides to show up on my doorstep, he just causally shares that he's been talking to his mother for months! Months!"

Casey walked over to Derek and pulled him into a hug. "I know."

"No. I raised him – we raised him, for a decade, longer than he ever lived with Sally. But he called her last month and not us," Derek voice was still shaking, but the shaking had moved onto his hands. He fisted them, wanting to punch something instead of crying. "Well, shit."

Casey gave him a squeeze, which he eventually returned. After standing in each other's arms in the silence, she asked "So, what do we do now?"

"I wish I knew, princess. You have no idea how much I wish I knew."

If it was any other situation, at all other times, Casey would laugh about how he admitted that he didn't know everything and than sometimes keeners really were the smartest people in the room. But this was about Michael. Michael wasn't just any situation.

Derek did not sleep well that nigh at all. When he closed his eyes, all he could see and dream about were all of things that went wrong with Michael. Casey must have been having similar nightmares too, because she woke up crying and saying "Mikey, I'm so sorry. I'm just so sorry." Derek didn't ask what she dreamt. He just held her as he stayed awake for the rest of the night, hoping the morning would be better.

That alone should have let him know that everything was about to get much worse.

It was her wail that woke them up, not that they were sleeping deeply. The sudden loud cry pushed out any remaining nightmares and had them both sitting up in bed.

"Oh my God," Casey breathed.

But Derek was completing her thought as they both jumped out of bed. "Emily."

The two rushed from their room and first headed toward Emily's room. Like most parents, they were frantic, as Emily hadn't cried like that in years. They had only gone a few steps towards Emily's room when they realized that the sound was coming from another room on the floor entirely.

Emily's crying was coming from Michael's room.

Derek really couldn't remember if he and Casey even looked at each other before they ran to Michael's room and threw open the door.

At that moment, all the impressions Derek had were like the ones he'd get of a set or a scene. The room was spotless and like it had never been occupied. The bed was made, there were no bags anywhere. The only thing marring the room was the scene in front of the bed. Emily was crumbled into a bawl, sobbing. Green currency was in a pile in front of her, as if it fell out of something. A white envelope was lying off to the teeanager's left. She held a note in a death grip with her right hand. Her face was buried in her left hand.

And just like in any movie, Derek knew. He knew something bad had happened. He knew Michael was gone. He knew Michael wasn't coming back. What he didn't know was why. What he still couldn't remember was how he got through the next minutes, the next hours, or the next days after his son had left the second time.

- to be continued -