When they got home, Don opened the bottle of wine and poured the ladies each a glass. He got a beer for himself. He flopped down on the sofa, and Angie curled up next to him. Barbara sat down in the side chair. She took off her Reeboks and put them under the coffee table, following Angie's example. She tucked her feet up under her and sat back against the overstuffed cushions, and took a sip of wine.

"I don't know whether to tell your father the truth or not," she said, looking into the deep red liquid in her glass.

"Well, why do you have to?" Don asked.

Because if I don't, then this crap with you two just goes on and on. But if I do, it could screw up my relationship with him. Your father can be a narrow-minded jerk at times, but I love him, and while I doubt this would break us up, it will cause some problems."

"But even if you told him about your past, it wouldn't change how he felt about me," Angie said.

"Probably not. Shit, it could make things worse. But I feel bad that I've lived a lie with him all these years."

"Ma, you were sixteen. And it's not like you killed someone, or even committed armed robbery."

"No, I did that," Angie said, shaking her head.

Don tightened his arm around her. "Stop it. I wasn't talkin' about you. Let's not forget that you didn't use the gun; you just got rid of it for Jason."

"Well, that's true."

Barbara went on. "It's been easy to just leave it unsaid all this time, you know? But then you two got together and it sort of brought it all back into focus for me. And then I had to listen to your father rant about how you'd tarnished your badge by shackin' up with a jailbird, and it got to where it was like fingernails on a chalkboard. I couldn't stand to hear it anymore. That's why I left and came to visit you. And that's not gonna stop once I'm back home."

Don felt Angie tense up. He looked at her. She looked like she was about to cry.

"Angie? What is it baby?"

"Are you sure you wouldn't be better off without me?" she said, her voice rising with each word. By the time she finished the question the tears were flowing. Jesus... fuck...

"No, I would not be better off without you! Stop askin' me that!"

"Angie, honey, none of this is your fault. I can tell you that from what I've seen so far, Donnie would not be better off without you. This is about me not bein' honest with my husband, not about your criminal record."

"But, if I didn't have a record, none of this would matter!"

"But the secret would still be there, the lie would still be there. If it hadn't been you who forced me to look at it, it would've been somethin' else. It's not your fault."

Angie wasn't hearing her. "Why do I have to be the one who fucks up everyone's life! I just wanna be happy, I wanna leave my past behind me but it just keeps coming back, it'll never go away!"

Don began to be alarmed by Angie's outburst. Shit, she's gettin' hysterical, whaddo I do?

His mother's voice cut through the haze of fear he was feeling.

"Angie, listen to me. Angie! Listen to me!" She got the younger woman's attention. Angie was still sobbing, but she looked at Barbara and Don could tell she was hearing her this time.

"What you did in your past is just that. Your past. Unlike me, you've come clean about it..."

"But..."

"No, no buts. You've come clean. You've done your time. Don knew when he met you that you'd committed a crime, and he knew it when he started dating you. You made the commitment to get yourself straight and you did. You have nothing to be ashamed of, nothing to feel guilty about. You and Donnie fell in love because you were meant to. Period. Just like Don's father and me. Donald's not gonna leave me because I got arrested for shoplifting when I was a teenager. What's gonna hurt him is that I didn't tell him about it. But he'll understand that it was because I didn't want to lose him. It'll cause some friction between us, but it won't break us up. And it has nothing to do with you."

"It does too, because my presence is the catalyst that's forcing you to deal with it one way or the other."

"Well then that's meant to be too." Barbara smiled at her. Angie buried her face against Don's shoulder and sobbed. Don looked pleadingly at his mother.

"Just let her cry," she said softly. "Let her get it out."

"Yeah. I do that alot with her." And it still rips my heart out every time. For a long time he'd dreaded having her fall apart like this, because he felt powerless to do anything to help. After awhile he'd realized that just holding her, supporting her, letting her get it out was exactly what she needed. But it still scared the hell out of him.

Barbara got up and went to sit on the other side of Angie, and joined Don in holding and comforting her. She stroked her back and spoke softly to her. Don remembered back to when she'd comforted him or his sister like this, after one of them fell off their bike or got in a fight with one of the neighborhood kids. It made him want to cry to realize how many years had gone by, how far away those childhood days were. Like a faded photograph, worn and cracked with age. Like the grey in his mother's hair, and the lines around her eyes. Signs of time gone by.

"She makes me miss Kayla," his mother said, and Don was startled to see tears welling up in her eyes.

"Jesus, Ma, don't you start cryin' too. I don't think I can handle two hysterical women at the same time."

"I'm not hysterical, and neither is she," she said, looking at Angie. The younger woman was starting to calm down. "You got kleenex, Donnie?"

"Yeah, it's in the office on the desk near the computer."

Barbara got up and went to retrieve it. She came back and sat on the sofa again, putting the box on the coffee table.

"Angie, honey? You gonna be ok?"

Angie sniffed loudly and nodded. She sat up and reached for the box of tissues. She wiped her eyes and blew her nose.

"I got your shirt all wet," she said to Don, and he didn't know whether to laugh or cry. Barbara laughed.

"I'm sorry I'm such a crybaby."

"Oh, don't apologize, Angie. This reminds me of my daughter Kayla, of how I used to comfort her, and Donnie, when they were little. I miss her so much."

"I miss her too, Ma. When was the last time you spoke to her?"

"I talked to her earlier this week. They're doing fine."

Don thought about Kayla. She'd married an historian who dabbled in archeaology, had two beautiful children with him and they'd all gone to Ireland to study old castles and crop circles. No heartrending problems there, aside from the fact that she was far away from home. The good one goes away; the pain-in-the-ass stays home...

What he was thinking, feeling, must have shown on his face. Either that or Ma can read my mind... she put her hand on his cheek.

"I've missed you too, Donnie. I've missed you so much. And I love you, more than you know."

"I love you too Ma."

Angie got up and went into the bathroom.

Barbara went on. "I think that's why this thing has me so stirred up. I miss Kayla so much. I know she's happy and I do get to talk to her and see pictures, but it's not the same as seeing her in person. And now I'm worried that I won't be able to see you either, and that would just kill me Donnie. I went almost a year without seeing you, and it's been really hard for me. Remember she left for Ireland right after you went back to work."

Don did remember. He'd seen both his parents several times after the bombing, not only while he was in the hospital but during his recovery as well. He'd gone and stayed at their home in the suburbs. He'd seen Kayla too, since she'd postponed leaving the country until she knew he was ok.

But after he'd met Angie, he hadn't been back to visit, and the phone calls had become less frequent. He could tell himself that he'd just been busy, but he knew that was a lie. He was afraid to face his father, and his mother too, for that matter. Jesus, what a coward I am. Leavin' Ma alone without either of her kids just because I'm scared to face Pop?

"I'm so sorry Ma. I shouldna left you like that. It was selfish and cowardly." He hated himself in that moment. Yeah, I have the courage to stand beside my woman, but if I can't stand before my father in her defense...

"I need to go talk to Pop. Get this thing out in the open."

"You do, but it won't be easy."

"Why do you think I've put it off for so long? The thing is that sometimes I still ask myself what the hell I'm doin' with a convicted felon. And the only thing that makes sense is that to me, love is more important than anything. But not everyone agrees with me on that. It took a long time for me to get the guys on the force to stop ridin' me about Angie. And then the whole mess with Dean Truby happened, and that just made it worse. There was a lotta talkin' goin' on behind my back. I think they're still talkin', but not as much as before." Don leaned his head back and stared at the ceiling.

"I guess I should thank Pop, because if it wasn't for him it probably would've been a lot worse. They respect me because I'm his son. Most of the time I hate that, but when it comes to Angie, it helps make things easier. And that makes me feel like shit because it means that I'm usin' him to suit my needs."

Angie came back into the living room, and sat back down on the sofa between mother and son. Don pulled her against him and kissed her cheek.

"You feelin' better?"

"Yeah, I think so. My head hurts."

"Did you take somethin' for it?"

"Uh-huh."

"Maybe we should all get some sleep," Barbara said. "You got a pillow and a blanket for me?"

"Yeah," Don said. "You gonna be ok out here?"

"I'll be fine. You kids go on to bed. I'll see you in the morning."

csinycsinycsiny

Don held Angie close against him, spooning her. He could see the curve of her shoulder in the dim glow of the night light, and he could smell the mixture of vanilla and bay rum, faint but familiar in the room. The sheets were crisp and smooth, and she was warm and soft against him. He felt himself wishing he could pull her even closer, so close that they would merge together. He thought about the things that had happened this day. Surprise visits, revelations, realizations. A rollercoaster of emotions. Things that had been muddy and blurred were suddenly clear. And things that had seemed black and white were now varying shades of grey. He felt like he'd been pulled apart and reassembled several times, each time becoming just slightly different from what he was before. But at the core of his being, he was still Don Flack, NYPD homicide detective, dedicated to upholding the law and catching the bad guy, but he was also Don Flack, the man who was head-over-heels in love with Angie Watson, this amazing woman who just happened to be an ex-con. And although the two seemed complete opposites of each other, they were the same. And he knew that they could live in harmony.