Chapter 29: Nightlife


Sunday, January 27, 2008

Rabb Residence

Before she gets up from the table, Laura drains the rest of her glass of milk in one long swallow, and then announces, "I'm done." Without further comment, she begins to cross the small living space obviously on her way elsewhere.

"Where are you off to, sweetheart?" Harm inquires with an evident trace of curiosity in his voice

"My room."

Mildly surprised by the answer he says, "First, please come back and put your dishes in the sink."

The adults in the room watch her turn slowly, almost grudgingly, retrace her steps to the table where she carefully deposits her brightly colored plastic plate, cup, and utensils in the basket on the front of her walker, and walk into the small kitchen; all without comment. Once there, she grips the edge of the counter for support and unceremoniously dumps all the items in her basket into the kitchen sink one piece at a time, then she turns and begins her journey once more.

"Laura?"

She turns to face her uncle with an exasperated sigh. "You want me to wash them too?"

Surprised, he glances briefly at his wife who shrugs in response to his unasked question.

Trying to lighten her obviously sour mood, he flashes his grin. "I don't think you should have to wash dishes until you're at least tall enough to turn the water on without using a step stool. Before then, it's probably considered child labor. The government tends to frown on that."

Mood unchanged, Laura rolls her eyes; asking, "Can I go now, Uncle Harm?"

He motions with his hands; shooing her out of the room. When her bedroom door closes behind her, he passes a puzzled look around the room and asks quietly, "What did I do?"

Mac reaches over and pats his back. "It's not you. It's her. She's been in a mood ever since I picked her up at Liam's… or actually, since about halfway through the ride home." Anticipating his next question, she adds, "I'm not sure why."

He nods and shrugs simultaneously. Hazarding a guess, he says, "Having too much fun. Didn't want to come home?"

"No, she was all smiles when I picked her up. Especially after I told her that Frank and Trish were coming over for dinner." Mac smiles at the older couple apologetically, "Halfway home, she got quiet. So, if anybody did anything, it's me; not you Flyboy, but I don't have a clue what. One minute she was fine, her usual chatty self, telling me all about the fun she and Liam had, asking questions in that rapid-fire style of hers. Everything was fine. Then it wasn't. Ever bump into this with Mattie?"

He chuckles. "Frequently. Mattie rolled her eyes on a regular basis, but Mattie was more than twice her age. I didn't think it started this early. Yeah, I've seen Laura roll her eyes before, but it's usually when she's being silly or when she thinks you're being silly. This was different. Something's bothering her."

Mac nods her agreement as she starts to rise to her chair. "I'll go talk to her."

Operating purely on instinct, Harm reaches out to place a gentle hand on her arm. When she turns, he shakes his head. "Not yet, let's give her a few minutes. We'll clean up the kitchen and then you can go talk to her."

Mac squints curiously. "What are we waiting for?"

"Give her time to change her own mind. Things will probably go better that way."

Mac chuckles but shrugs agreeably. "Okay, but what makes you think that's going to work?"

Aware that he's just trapped himself in an awkward place, he answers slowly but honestly as he busies himself with clearing away his own dishes. "Years of practice. She's you, made over…"

He moves halfway to the kitchen aware of her silence before he turns to find her staring at him; hands on her hips but with a curious laughter glowing in her dark eyes. Pleased she's going to take it well, he flashes his grin once more. "Leave her alone… for now. You go in there and try to force her to talk before she's ready; and she's going to hurl fireballs at your head!"

She's motionless for a moment as truth finds its way home and then she shrugs, picks up her dishes and follows in Harm's footsteps with their dinner guests trailing behind her; intent on doing their part to help with the cleanup. Beside him at the sink, she hands over her dishes, and then elbows him affectionately in the ribs before moving to the stove to tend to the pots and pans waiting there.

The four of them work together and manage to tidy the cozy kitchen in less than fifteen minutes. Harm pours a round of after-dinner drinks; white wine for his mother, mineral water from Mac, and a couple of beers for he and Frank and they move to the living room to sit and visit comfortably at the close of an eventful weekend. The art gallery has another exhibit coming up and Trish will be busy in the coming days. Chrysler is still rolling along. For Harm and Mac, work is work; and aside from her current mood, Laura is well. The reason for Bud and Harriet's most recent visit is on everyone's mind, and everyone avoids talking about it, as if doing so might jinx it or somehow alter the course of events that have yet to happen.

When Laura quietly wanders from her bedroom to the bathroom Harm leaves his chair long enough to return to the kitchen only to join them again a moment later carrying napkins and a large saucer piled high with double fudge brownies. He places the small plate on the coffee table in front of his chair and returns to the conversation as if he hadn't left at all.

A short time later, Laura drifts quietly into the room. Without a word, she comes to a stop beside his chair and stands still as if waiting for something. Frank, Trish and Mac observe without comment as their conversation continues. After a protracted moment, when he fails to acknowledge her, she pokes him gently on the arm. Without making eye contact, he slides backwards in his chair making room for her in his lap. She smiles brightly and climbs up.

Making herself comfortable, she pulls one of his arms around herself and settles in. For a few minutes, he doesn't dare move. When he decides she's not going anywhere, he leans forward only long enough to pick up the saucer and offer the girl a brownie and a napkin to go with it. The two of them settle in again and he lets her munch for a while before he says, "I'm glad you decided to join us. Grandma and Grandpa like to see you when they come visit."

She nods slowly. "I know. I'm sorry. I'm in a bad mood."

"Okay… Why?"

"Cuz, Mr. Bud, and Miss Harriett left today and didn't say goodbye. It's not fair! How come the people I like always leave?"

Harm hugs the girl tightly as an 'I should have known' look comes over his face.

First, sweetheart, they had to go home today. They have a very busy life and four children waiting for them back in DC. Second, you'll see them again, and third, they did say goodbye."

Laura scowls. "Not to me, they didn't. I wasn't here. I didn't think they were leaving until later. I wanted to go with them to the airport. Everybody leaves. Nobody said goodbye. It sucks too! Is it cuz I'm little? Kids are people too; you know! We're just shorter!"

Harm tightens his embrace and tries not to laugh, as Mac rises quickly from her perch on the ottoman kept near his chair and quick steps to the credenza near the front door. She returns with a small plain white box with a pink ribbon around it.

"Harriett left this for you. I'm sorry. It slipped my mind this afternoon when I came to pick you up at Liam's. I should have brought it with me."

Laura stares at the box in her aunt's outstretched hand curiously. "She left me a present? I thought she just came because of baby stuff?"

"She did come because of baby stuff. That doesn't mean she doesn't like you, or that she doesn't like spending time with you."

Mac waits.

Laura simply stares.

"You wanna open it? Or just sit there looking at it?"

Laura takes hold of one of Harm's hands, and physically turns it palm up, so she can deposit what's left of her treat there before eagerly accepting the box. Before opening it, she squints at her uncle. "Don't eat my brownie. You just hold it. That's all!"

He nods in solemn agreement as she hurriedly unties the ribbon and fumbles to get the small box open on her own.

Inside, she finds a handcrafted hair bow with two different color ribbons. One is an alarming shade of fuchsia; the other is zebra print. The two are intertwined and affixed to a barrette. Beneath the hair accessory, she finds a small note addressed to her and reads it slowly; careful not to miss a single word. She reads aloud, verbally stumbling over only two of the words; 'thought' and 'airport.'

"Laura,

I make these bows for Jenny, and I thought you might like one too. Sorry you didn't get to see us off at the airport. We'll miss you and we'll be back to see you again soon. I'll call you on video chat Monday. You can say hello to A.J., Jimmy, and the twins.

Lots of love,

Aunt Harriett and Uncle Bud."

Laura's smile is radiant as Mac says, "See, they didn't just leave. They did say goodbye… even to you."

Laura nods as she carefully places the bow back in the open box and returns her gaze to the handwritten note once more. "Nobody ever wrote me a letter before." She announces with quiet wonder.

"Well, someone has now." Mac tucks a lock of the girl's hair behind her ear affectionately.

Trish smiles and says, "Go find me a hairbrush to use darling, and I'll help you put that bow in your hair."

Laura slips from Harm's lap eagerly and bolts across the small living room; calling out a reminder as she goes. "Don't eat my brownie Uncle Harm!"

Mac can't help but laugh aloud. "You two!" She nudges Harm affectionately as she settles on the arm of his chair. You both know how to work the other one. You, you're the pied piper; doling out chocolate to lure her in and sooth her and she's got you wrapped around her little finger. She pokes you… and suddenly there's a warm lap available for her to curl up in."

He grins up at her and shrugs. "I stick with what works."


Elizabeth Hawkes' Apartment

2241 HRS

The weather person for KFMB channel eight in San Diego predicts a 30% chance of rain for the following day as Elizabeth Hawkes steps out of her bathroom wearing nothing but a football jersey and drying her freshly shampooed hair on a fluffy white towel.

She's one of those people who walks into a room and turns the television off. He's one of those people who walks into a room and turns the television on.

Why? He turns the TV on, and then ignores it.

She shakes her head.

"Thanks for fixing the shower. What was wrong with it?" She asks climbing onto the bed and settling in beside him. She waits expectantly for an answer. When his only response is to casually rest a hand on her bare thigh she gently pokes him in the ribs.

"Huh… What?" Keeter says absent-mindedly; not really paying attention to her or the television.

Smiling; she rolls her eyes and repeats, "Thanks for fixing the shower. I had hot water everywhere else in the apartment but not in the shower. What was wrong with it?"

"Trash in the line was blocking the water coming through from the water heater. I just took the shower head off and flushed the line; no big deal."

"Trash?"

He nods. "Rocks, pebbles, muck, pieces of plastic and other bits of garbage."

"In the water line; how does something like that happen?"

"You just moved in. If the apartment stood vacant for a while before that, stuff can settle and build up in the line since there's no water moving through. Plus, if the water line has been worked on recently, the guys who do it aren't always careful about making sure the pipes are clear before they're reconnected. You would've noticed it if you had separate knobs for hot and cold water. Because both are controlled with only one knob you had no way of knowing that the hot water was only trickling through."

"Well, thank you! That's the first warm shower I've had here in three days; since before your trip. The building super is either lazy or an idiot. I've called twice already. Every time he comes over he tells me to turn the temperature on the water heater up. Which means the water coming out of the kitchen tap is hot enough to scald…"

"And the water coming out of the shower was still our ice cold." He turns down the volume on the television as a mildly disappointing thought comes to mind. "You should have asked sooner; before I left." He chuckles. I thought you were hanging out at my place earlier this week because you wanted me. And all you wanted was a warm shower."

She thumps his chest playfully. "Not entirely true… I wanted both!"

"Oh, okay, I guess I can live with that." He grins devilishly.

"You'll have to. It's the truth."

He nods without comment.

"Hey, you okay? You are kind of… quiet."

He nods again remaining quiet for several seconds longer before he finally asks, "You think it's really going to happen?"

"What? Rain… Tomorrow… Probably not."

"Nah. Not that!" He drapes an arm around her shoulders and pulls her body closer. "Harm and Mac; the whole baby thing?"

She nods confidently. "It's gonna happen. Maybe not the way they want it to, but it's gonna happen."

"Why not the way they want it to."

"What in life does go the way you want it to; the way any of us wants it to? Actually, in their case, it's already too late for that. You can't tell me they want to do it this way… Mac pumped full of hormones like some guinea pig in a lab… Surrogacy… Sterile conception by a third party and facilitated by doctors and scientists in latex gloves and face masks? Nobody wants that. If I'm wrong, I'm seriously disturbed by the person who does want that. Harm and Mac are just doing the best they can with the options they have."

"They're choosing to be parents and they are and willing to put themselves through hell just to make it happen while other people stumble blindly into parenthood without even trying… or caring."

"You're still thinking about Laura, aren't you? She's been on your mind since we had dinner with them last night."

"It's not right! If the mother is so messed up the day the kid is born that they take her away… She should've never been sent home!"

"This really bothers you."

"I can't help it! I like the runt. She's smart. She's funny. She's sassy as hell… but not in a bad way… Not that bad, ugly, messed up kind of way. Somehow, she's not fucked up… Not totally. She deserves better!"

"Everybody deserves better Keeter… And Laura's lucky. She's got better."

"Yeah, now!"

"Better late than never; right?"

"I guess, but her mother should've done her a favor, and let her go right from the beginning."

"I don't know Cassandra O'Hara. I've never met her but based on what I've heard about her; that would have required a level of selflessness I don't think she's even remotely capable of reaching."

"Parents are supposed to be selfless; aren't they?"

Skates shrugs. "My father is… Mom… Not so much."

"My mom was."

"What about your dad? Don't think I've ever heard you mention him?"

"Don't have much to say. He took off before I was born."

"Ever met him?"

He shakes his head.

"Ever wanted to?"

He shrugs. In a calm level voice absent of bitterness he admits "Thought about looking him up once… For about 4 seconds. He left when mom told him she was pregnant. So, it's not like he can claim he doesn't know it's possible that I exist. He wasn't interested in being a father. Why should I be interested in being his son? Besides, say I look him up; if he's even still alive. Say I find him, then what? If I find him, I have to deal with the person I find. Good or bad. What if I don't like what I find? No! That's too much trouble to go to for a man who never went to any trouble for me. I got this far without him. I think he did me a favor. Just because a person wants to be a parent doesn't automatically mean they will be a good parent. But, if they don't want to be a parent, then they shouldn't. Period. Laura's proof of that. Me and Mom… We were okay. If he'd stayed, he probably would have screwed me up."

"Had to be tough."

He shrugs. "Was sometimes."

"No regrets?"

He shakes his head and flashes his grin once more as he picks her up and settles her across his lap. "Waste of time, not to mention energy. I can think of more enjoyable ways to spend both."


Burnett residence

Trish is in that nowhere place between sleep and awake when she hears a sound so faintly that, at first, she assumes she's imagined it; or perhaps dreamt it, but when the repressed rumble of laughter deep in her husband's chest becomes noticeably louder after a few passing seconds she reaches over, switches on her bedside lamp, and pushes herself up on her elbows.

Raising an inquiring eyebrow, she simply stares at him for a few seconds which completely undoes his attempt to remain quiet. The more confused she becomes, the harder he laughs until finally, she asks, "Frank, darling, are you going to explain, or shall I have the walls padded?"

Mingled in with his laughter, he manages to force out the words they both remember hearing earlier in the evening. "He's had… Years of practice. Do you suppose… she really throws fireballs… at his head?"

Musical laughter bubbles out of his wife. "Who? Laura? It's doubtful, but not impossible. Mac? Yes! Definitely! And I love her for it! She's a handful… and then some, but she's just what he needed." Trish falls back against the pillows and pulls him close.

He squeezes her shoulders and kisses her temple. "Boy's got two of them, and he wants another. If the next one's a girl, he had better learn to duck."


Rabb Residence

When she hears his quiet knock against the frame of the bathroom door, Mac turns, an expectant smile lifting the corners of her mouth, and glances over the half wall that separates the shower from the rest of their bathroom;

"What is this?" Harm asks while holding the object in question up in the air on two fingertips.

Unsure why he's asking the question, she squints; her brow furrowing deeply before she answers flatly, "Harm, that would be a hula hoop."

"I know what it is."

She chuckles merrily and rolls her eyes as she lathers up. "Then why did you ask me?"

"I mean, what's it doing here?"

"At the moment, Flyboy, it's a dangling from your fingertips."

"Mac!"

"If you don't get the answer you want, you're asking the wrong question, counselor."

He grins and shakes his head in frustration but chooses his next question with a bit more deliberation. "Where did it come from?"

"The toy department at Wal-Mart."

"Mac!" He laughs.

She joins in on the laughter. "Well, are you seriously going to stand there and cross-examine me about a hula hoop while I'm in the shower? Since, obviously you are, the least you can do is articulate exactly what it is you want to know, Squid."

"I want to know how it came to be here."

"I bought it for Laura."

He stares at her as if she's just said something outrageous. "Why would you do that?"

She returns a stare to match his own. "Because she said she wanted it…"

"Mac! She can barely stand on her own two feet just standing still. She can't manage this thing!

"I know that Harm… She doesn't. What? I'm supposed to tell her not to even try? That won't get her anywhere in life, and you know it. She wanted to try, so I bought it. She can play with it out there on the beach in the sand. When she falls, and she will fall, she'll have someplace soft to land. Her six is only about two feet off the ground. She's not going to fall that far. She might get a few bruises. She'll either find a way to make it work, or she won't. She'll reinforce her perseverance, or she will learn to accept her limitations. Our job is to protect her, to guide her, not to put her in a bubble. That would do more harm than good. She's a tough kid. She's not gonna fall apart if she skins a knee."

By the time she finishes, he's leaning against the door jamb with his arms folded in front of his chest. The hula hoop is propped against the wall, and his blue eyes are warm with affection.

"What?"

"You're good at this."

For a second, she looks at him as if he's speaking a foreign language; one that she doesn't understand. Then, his meaning falls into place. "Better hope so. No one taught me how to do this, Harm. I'm just making it up as I go along. And it's too late to turn back now. We've passed the point of no return. If past experience is in our favor, Harriett won't have any trouble getting, or staying, pregnant."

"We're gonna be fine." He declares; his words are muffled as he pulls his T-shirt over his head and approaches the shower. In seconds, he dispenses with the rest of his clothing and steps into the shower amongst halfhearted, if somewhat noisy, protests.

"Hey! This is my shower! You've already had yours!"

"Yeah well... I'm taking another…"