An authors note...I can't believe it took me this long to update, but this chapter meant so much to me and I wanted to get it just right. I hope it was worth the wait. I promise for more lighter chapters to come, and hopefully quicker updates in the near future. Thanks for reading, and please let me know what you think:D
Disclaimer-Glee is the property of FOX, the creators and the writers.
Let It Be
He was lying on his back, staring up at the ceiling, listening to the soft sounds coming from the room down the hall. Lately, sleep was hard to come by, or just maintain, and strange dreams bordering on nightmares had been plaguing his nights. So for the past few weeks, he forced himself to only focus on the things that made him happiest.
His mother humming lullabies to his baby sister while she fed her, was definitely one of those things.
Artie wasn't sure how long it was before the humming stopped, or when the warm sun began filtering through his window, but he waited until his room was completely aglow in light, before deciding to get out of bed.
It was then he remembered it was raining that morning, one year ago, today.
Heaving a small sigh, Artie pushed aside the light blanket covering him, and got to work on the tedious task of getting himself into his chair. He started by twisting his torso to the right, then propped himself up on one elbow. With his left hand, he slid his legs, one at a time, toward the edge of the bed, while simultaneously pushing his body up with his right arm.
Once he was fully seated, Artie scooted closer to his chair. After checking that the brakes were set, he shifted himself down and into the seat, then arranged his feet on the footrests, before heading out of his room. It wasn't until he got into the bathroom, that Artie remembered he'd woke up early that morning because of the rain, but didn't get out of bed until he felt the actual urge to. Unfortunately, he didn't have that luxury anymore, on a few levels; and while he knew he wasn't as restricted as he would be when he became old enough to take care of all of his needs on his own, he was still required to follow a fairly strict schedule.
Artie briefly considered curling back into his bed with a book, but something pulled him in another direction.
"Morning, Mom," he whispered softly from the doorway of his baby sisters room.
Surprised more than startled, Alicia broke the gaze she had studying the imaginary spot on the floor, and instinctively smiled at the sound of that small voice. It was clear, by the moist puffy redness of her eyes, that she'd been crying, or at least very close to, but everything in her grin, was genuine. "Hi Sweetie," she greeted back, only somewhat distractedly, "What are you doing up so early?"
Artie's expression turned slightly quizzical, as he glanced up at the clock on the wall. "Umm, it's after seven."
"Oh," she muttered, matching his gaze. To say she'd lost track of time, was a bit of an understatement. The last time she remembered glancing at the clock, was when Abbey woke up to nurse, around four-thirty. "Let me just put her down," Alicia paused to lovingly look down at the sleeping baby in her arms, "then, I'll make you some breakfast."
"Can I help?," Artie offered willingly.
Smiling over her shoulder, Alicia nodded. "Of course."
...
He wanted to tell her she didn't have to do this, that cereal or eggs would be just fine, but there was something in the way she looked...like she needed to do it.
"Okay Honey, would you grab the blueberries and milk out of the fridge?" Alicia asked, forcing cheerfulness into her weary voice, as she reached for the mixing bowl from the cabinet above her head. She was just finishing measuring out the dry ingredients when Artie returned to her side, items in lap, beautiful face beaming up at her. "You want to mix, too?" she queried, almost playfully.
Artie gave an eager nod, then followed his mother to the kitchen table, where the bowl would be placed more at his level. "You measure out one cup of milk, and I'll get the eggs," she instructed.
Alicia had purposely avoided asking him for that particular item, since they were located at the top of the refrigerator door. She briefly wondered if he would have been able to reach them now, had he actually been able to stand, but quickly dismissed the thought from her mind.
As Artie mixed the batter, he couldn't help but remember how he'd asked for blueberry pancakes that morning. How disappointed he was when he was advised by his very busy mother to"please just have a bowl cereal". How she'd offered to make them the next day, but never got the chance. His "thanks, Mom" was completely sincere and appreciative, which made Alicia certain it wasn't just for the two eggs she'd cracked into the bowl for him. The two exchanged a meaningful glance, before Alicia moved on to prepare the griddle.
"Good morning, everyone."
Art's disguised voice surprised both of them, and they immediately looked up. Artie's lips spread into a wide grin, while Alicia's expression took on a slightly more pained appearance. "She can't be ready to eat again, can she?"
A chuckle escaped him as he passed his wife, gurgling baby cradled in the crook of his arm. "Well it is almost eight," he replied pointedly over his shoulder.
"Here Dad," Artie called out, gesturing to the empty space on the table in front of him. "You can put her by me. I'm all done mixing."
Art nodded, and smiled at his son as he carefully placed his daughter into the infant seat next to him. Once Abbey was securely fastened, Art took the bowl Artie was holding out to him, but not before placing a lingering kiss to the top of the little boy's head, and a comforting hand on his shoulder.
Alicia whispered her thanks as she accepted the bowl Art brought to her. She felt a comforting warmth wash over her when he wrapped his arms around her from behind; and swallowing the emotion from her throat, Alicia returned the small kiss he was giving her. "Andy awake yet?" she asked casually.
"Nope," Art answered, right arm still snaked protectively around her waist. At Alicia's slightly disapproving nod, Art chuckled. "I think we should leave him sleep as long as we can. That way there will be less of a chance of him being grouchy and tired at Harry's party."
Alicia's expression faltered and she let out a soft sigh. "Do you really think we should let him go?" she asked, questioning blue meeting imploring hazel. "I just think we should be together as a family...especially today."
Art's hold tightened a bit, and he pressed his lips to her temple in a comforting gesture. "I know," he acknowledged sympathetically, "but as I see it, if he's out doing his thing, we'll have more time to devote to just Artie."
Nodding in agreement, Alicia pressed herself further into her husbands embrace. "I'm so glad you're here today," she mumbled into his chest, words both muffled and cracking with emotion.
Art smiled and let his other arm envelop her. "I am too," he began, emphasizing his words by squeezing her gently. "Even if it was a workday instead of a Saturday, there is no other place I'd be."
"Hey Mom, Dad," Artie's mirth-filled voice rang out over the depth of their emotion. "Watch, I can make her laugh really hard."
At the sound of the matching deeply infectious chuckles emanating from both their baby girl, and eldest son, the Abrams couldn't help but smile. "She loves you so much, Sweetheart," Alicia stated through her now happy tears, as she watched brother hold sister's pudgy little feet over his bespectacled eyes and announce "peek-a-boo" as he pulled them away. Always with the same result.
Artie grinned and giggled at Abbey's bubbling laughter. "I love her so much, too."
...
Breakfast was surprisingly lighthearted, smiles all around, more resonating laughter at Art's attempts to feed new to solids Abbey, her infant cereal. Andy behaved himself too, only asking once when they could leave to go to Harry's. Noticing the time pushing eleven am, Artie figured it was probably best to get dressed soon; and with some assistance from his Dad, he was upstairs in a flash.
"Need a hand, Ace?" Art asked, much like he always did, specifically for those rare occasions his boy might actually say yes. Of course he didn't again this time, and father left without a word. Heading to the bathroom first, to take care of emptying the small collection bag he wore on his thigh, Artie instantly recalled that moment.
Washing his hands thoroughly after he'd flushed, Artie stepped from the bathroom, to almost collide with little brother.
"Watch out, Andy," he scolded lightly.
The younger Abrams let out an annoyed sigh as he tried to squeeze past. "Move, I gotta go."
Artie stepped aside obligingly, until something caught his eye. "Is that my baseball?"
Andy looked down at his hand and shrugged. "No."
"It looks like the one Dad gave me," Artie maintained bending forward to get a better look. "The one that's missing from my room."
"It's not," Andy returned, yanking his arm behind his back. "I found this one."
"Where?" the elder brother asked in challenge.
"Outside...In the bushes."
Artie glared skeptically. "Let me see," he tried again. "I wrote my initials on it, in black permanent marker...A.A."
"Those are my initials too," the little boy taunted, backing his way into the room.
"Yeah, but if you just found it, then it wouldn't have your initials on it yet," Artie shot back, reaching again for his brothers hand.
"Stop, It's not yours," Andy cried pulling away.
"Then let me see."
"No."
"C'mon Andy, let me..."
The harmless scuffle ended with a deafening splash.
Artie tried not to cringe as he watched the ball sink to the bottom of the bowl, nor did he say anything when the visible black markings appeared through the water.
"Great, now look what you did."
Rolling his eyes slightly at his brother, Artie paused for a moment. There was no way he was sticking his clean hands in the toilet, right after he'd used it. "I'm gonna look for those gloves Mom uses when she cleans in here," he told his brother as he crouched down in front of the cabinet. "Don't touch anything."
And like clockwork, Andy's small hand slipped off the top of the tank, hitting the lever on it's way down.
Artie jumped to his feet. To his relief, the ball hadn't been completely swept away, but it was definitely lodged farther down into the bowl, barely even visible now. Before he could breathe that sigh of relief, however, water started spilling over the rim of the toilet, and onto the cold tile floor. "Andy, go run downstairs and get Mom," he ordered, scrambling frantically to sop up the mess with the first thing he could find.
Artie was snapped from his reverie by silence. His bag now empty, he finished in the bathroom, then wheeled into his bedroom.
Scanning the room, Artie was pleased with the change he made a few months ago, though a part of him could still visualize the green walls and soccer themed decor from a year ago. He pulled up to his bed, clothes already picked out by himself the night before, and prepared to transfer. It was sometimes easier to get dressed in his chair, but not always. After scooting toward the middle of his bed, and back against the headboard, Artie straightened out his left leg, which had come along for the ride, at least partially, then maneuvered his right leg with his hands, to lie next to it.
Artie stared at the legs in front of him. He placed his hands, which he knew to be warm, on the tops of his thighs. It was weird, he touched his legs all the time, just not usually purposely...at least not anymore. Running his hands down, he only got about half way before they recoiled. Hesitating for only a moment, Artie reached back down to touch the sizable scar at the base of his right thigh, just above his knee. He fingered it, still amazed that there was a large chunk of thick window glass embedded in it, and he never even knew, never felt a thing. Looking back, he supposed that made sense.
After hurriedly shimmying out of his pajama shorts, Artie reached for the pair of khaki bermudas on his left. He noted the softness of the fabric, and remembered wearing jean shorts that day. He remembered them being a little on the tighter side, but the actual feeling was lost to him. He briefly wondered what happened to them after the accident.
Looser fit for comfort and ease, he worked his feet into the openings, making a mental note that they were cool to the touch, and socks would be in order. Then alternated from tugging, to balancing, to shifting, until they were up to his hips, and all that was left to do was one final shift on each side, and they were on. Changing his shirt, of course, took mere seconds in contrast.
Glancing down one more time at his thin(they'd always been skinny, but not like this), limp, forever still(except during muscle spasms), legs, Artie quickly transferred back. Thinking about nothing more than how getting socks on, was definitely easier from in the chair.
...
As morning ticked away, the mood in the house began taking on a more somber tone. With their welcomed distraction napping, her schedule thrown off a bit by the weekend, and the day itself, the family sat down for lunch, eating in relative silence. No one seemed particularly interested in food, aside from Andy, of course. "Can I have more chips?"
"Finish your sandwich first, Champ, then you can have some more," Art leaned to his right, and whispered softly to the boy.
Grilled cheese and tomato soup, more of Artie's favorites, but not his first choice. He almost suggested peanut butter and jelly, when asked what he had a taste for, but changed his mind when he realized that might be a little too similar to the jelly sandwich and celery with peanut butter he'd made for him and his mother to eat, that day.
"Can we go to Harry's now, Dad?"
The inquiry rang out, causing Artie to glance up from his plate. He scanned the table. His mother, soup no more than half eaten, sandwich left relatively untouched, wearing a sort of pained look. His father, sympathetically looking over at her. His brother bouncing so anxiously in his seat, it looked as though he were about ready to jump out of his skin.
Alicia's eyes met Art's, imploring. He knew what they were saying, even without the words. "Just as soon as Abbey wakes up," he went on to tell his youngest, "Mom and I thought it would be nice for all of us to take a walk together, to drop you off."
Andy let out a heavy sigh. "But she'll have to eat first," he whined in response, "and driving there is faster."
Artie knew how much his mother was against letting Andy go anywhere right now, and it wasn't just because he was still on "probation" after the week long confined-to-the-house-24/7 grounding(and the-angriest-anyone-had-ever-seen-his-mother-get scolding) his brother had been dealt, over the sparkler incident on the fourth of July. He'd overheard his parents discussing it for days now, Alicia emphasizing how important it was for the five of them together on this day, and Art's counterpoint that if Andy were to spend the time at Harry's, they would be able to give Artie even more one on one attention.
It was obvious his father had won, though by the paling of his mother's face, that victory would remain hollow. "No Andy, we're going to walk," Art intoned, then added softly, "together, as a family."
Something in Artie's stomach twisted a little. He was definitely astute to the fact that as the days neared, their time spent out and about, diminished as well. They hadn't gone anywhere, in almost three days.
Artie briefly wondered if the memory of the accident was on his mother's mind every time she got behind the wheel...or in any vehicle. That thought alone, made him sad. But he didn't have time to dwell. As if on cue, Abbey's cries could be heard over the baby monitor, and everyone scrambled into action. It wasn't long before they were all packed up, lathered in sunscreen, and headed out the garage door.
Artie hadn't noticed Andy at first, he was concentrating on not letting the sad, sympathetic stares they were getting from the majority of neighbors who were out, bother him. Not surprisingly, Mr. Brady was the only one to give a genuinely friendly wave from across the street.
But as soon as a blur of blue breezed past him, none of that really seemed to matter.
It wasn't like it was his anymore...hadn't been since that day a year ago. Though it had been, even if just for two short months; the most prized possession he'd ever had, before his guitar, that is.
The brilliant blue paint was now chipped in some places, frame dirtied from use. The mini Ohio license plate stamped with his name, his parents had custom made as part of his birthday gift, now replaced with a generic plastic one, reading "Andy".
The former, now attached to the back frame of his chair.
Artie could hear his parents muffled voices behind him, noticing right away that his mother sounded upset. It wasn't a surprise to him, it had to be difficult for her to see Andy riding the bike that he was learning how to, just minutes before the accident occurred. The bike she'd told him to put away, so he could come with her, that day.
It was for him, too.
A moment later, Andy was being ushered over by Art, while Alicia busied herself with getting Abbey situated.
Artie discretely watched his brother as he reluctantly trudged up the slight incline of the drive way, the same way he did that day. Remembered how he argued with his Mom over letting him stay home and ride, instead of going with her; much like Andy was doing right now.
Feeling the gentle brush of a feminine hand on his shoulder, Artie glanced up and shared a soft smile with his mother. "You all ready to go?" Alicia asked, peering down lovingly at him.
Artie nodded, his smile widening as he held up his hands in front of him. "I've got my gloves," he stated, then glanced over his shoulder to add, "My water bottle." After a quick nod to the thermos style canteen hanging off the right handle bar of his chair, he glanced back at the item in his lap, "And my hat."
Alicia couldn't help but let her own grin reflexively spread, as she gently caressed his upper back. "Then let's go."
...
The distance between their house and Harry's, wasn't particularly far, but due to Andy's incessant complaining, the trip felt far longer than it actually was.
"But what if everyone else wants to ride bikes, and I'm the only one who doesn't have one?"
Art inhaled deeply. "Andrew, it's a late afternoon camping party. I really don't think you boys are going to have time to ride bikes," he gently reminded the boy.
"But what if they do?" Andy repeated him mantra.
Art sighed this time, "Then you call home, and I'll bring your bike over there."
Artie flinched a little at the word "your", but tried not to let it show. That bike was Andy's now, and he'd have to accept that.
As they rounded the next corner, Andy took off for the light brown brick and siding house, about three-quarters down the block.
Harry was out in front of the house, trying his best to jam a yard sign into the lawn, while his mother tied balloons to the mailbox post. "Andy!," the boy squealed when his best friend came into view. He greeted Andy enthusiastically, and kept that excitement when the rest of the Abrams arrived.
"Hey Artie," Harry called out, only slightly more subdued than the minute before. He knew what happened a year ago, and that today was a sad day for Artie and his family, even if it was the happiest day of the year for him. Harry had cried a little when he heard about the accident, not just because it was scary, and Artie was his best friends brother, but because he really liked the older boy...looked up to him, thought he was cool. "Sorry you got hurt on my birthday," was the first thing Harry said to Artie when he saw him for the first time, after the accident.
"Hi Harry," Artie returned, smiling genuinely, "Happy Birthday."
"Thanks," he replied, lips twitching upward, as well.
Kelly, Harry's mother, smiled at the exchange before walking over to greet her friends. She hugged Alicia first. It was a lingering embrace that gave each women both the comfort they needed so much, as well as the time to compose themselves, before parting.
She turned to him next, and offered a completely genuine grin. "Hi, Artie."
Artie was well aware that Mrs. Kim was still harboring some misdirected feelings of responsibility over the accident. So many people were; his Mom, his Dad, her...and he didn't like it. Didn't like anyone feeling guilty over something that was in no way, their fault...even if it was her sons party they had been driving to, when it happened.
But before he could even finish the, "Hi, Mrs. Kim," he was responding with, she was kneeling beside him and wrapping her arms around his small frame.
"You doing okay, today?" she asked softly, for his ears only.
"Yeah," he replied, then discretely glanced over his shoulder. "Mom is too...at least so far."
Giving a nod of understanding, Kelly scanned the front lawn, her gaze finally landing on the two boys running around, laughing.
"Mom, I need Harry's present," Andy called out as he raced toward the stroller, where the package was nestled inside the basket.
"You know we'd love to have you too," Kelly felt compelled to tell him, though the offer was entirely sincere.
Artie nodded. As much as he would have loved to say yes, the offer alone was enough for him. "Thanks, Mrs. K," he beamed back at her, appreciatively.
A wave of deja vu, hit her. She should have known Artie would decline; exactly as his did the year before, in favor of helping his mother clean up the bathroom mess they'd left to get Andy to the party on time. There wasn't a moment that went by where Kelly didn't wish he would have said yes, or that she would have offered to bring Andy home that day, or anything that might have changed the outcome. Standing, she gave him a comforting pat on the shoulder, before crossing the few steps back over to the Abrams.
"Are you sure you don't mind him spending the night?" Alicia asked, reluctant to hand over Andy's bag just yet.
"You know I wouldn't have offered if I did," Kelly reassured her with a smile.
Alicia glanced up at Art before nodding. "Thank you," she whispered, not trusting her voice to do anything but.
...
By the time they arrived home, it was close to three.
Alicia seemed to be getting increasingly anxious by the minute, as was Artie, while Art was at a complete loss. "Should we watch a movie?" he asked offhandedly, hoping that would prove to be the distraction everyone was searching for.
They both nodded, Artie waiting for his mother to sit down on the couch, before preparing to transfer next to her. Once the transition was complete, Alicia looped one arm around Artie's waist and shifted him until she was holding him against her.
Art chose a Disney movie, family oriented, but nothing overly emotional. He briefly considered joining them on the couch, but opted instead to take Abbey with him to the plush chair diagonal to them.
It wasn't long before the tears started pooling in Alicia's eyes, causing a lump to form in Art's throat. He wanted more than anything to wrap his wife and son up in his arms and take away all their sadness and pain, but he knew he couldn't. They needed to deal with this alone, together. So, lifting a slightly fussy Abbey from her infant seat, he walked to the back of the room, where they could have their privacy, but his presence would still be known.
3:37pm
Alicia's breath caught in her throat, and Artie snuggled as close to her as he could get. Placing his head against her chest, and his small hand in hers, he squeezed gently and lifted his expressive blue eyes to hers.
"I love you, Mom."
...
Throughout the rest of the evening, Art took care of Abbey, whipped up a light, easy dinner, and intercepted the numerous phone calls from concerned family members, wondering how the day had gone for them.
However, not long after dinner, the tables had turned and it was Art helping Artie with his nightly routine, while Alicia went to feed a very hungry Abbey.
"You ready for bed, Ace?" he asked upon entering his sons bedroom, once the boy had returned from the bathroom.
Artie nodded affirmatively. "I was going to read a book, but I'm kind of tired," he replied, the weariness evident in his voice.
Art flashed a supportive smile. "Yeah, it's been a long day," he agreed, sighing slightly as he moved to help the boy into bed. "Here," he added, offering over the small half tablet of muscle relaxant in the cupped palm of his right hand, while reaching for the bottled of water on the nightstand, with his left.
Artie took the pill without hesitation. He knew he'd need it, if not right that minute, then very shortly. The quick shower he took earlier, helped a little, but the muscles he could feel, were tight, and his legs seemed a bit stiff when he was maneuvering them onto his bed. Then again, after the day he'd had, who could blame him?
Art silently went through the motions of Artie's nighttime routine...stretching and massaging the boy's legs to promote good circulation and flexibility, among other things. While his movements continued, his mind wandered. He couldn't keep the memories of that day, from flooding his mind. Fragments from the moment he got the phone call, the second he arrived at the hospital, seeing his little boy in the emergency room, to getting the news that would change everything...
"Dad?"
Pulled from his reverie by the sound if his title, Art took a moment to study his son, and was amazed at how far they'd, Artie especially, had come this past year. The slightly questioning look he was being given, made the grin that had faded, return...even wider than before.
"I have something for you," Art stated as he gently placed a pillow underneath Artie's knees, before reaching into the side pocket of his shorts. "It's supposed to replace the one that got ruined..." His words trailed off as he extended his arm.
Artie reached out and grasped the brand new baseball. He turned it around in his hand, his eyes widening exponentially.
"I picked it up when we went to that minor league game a few weeks back," Art went on to explain. He knew how disappointed Artie was after learning they wouldn't be able to take their annual trip to Cincinnati, so he figured the next best thing would be a local game, just him and the boys. What he didn't figure on, was Andy complaining the entire time about having to sit in the "bad" accessible section now, or Artie's view being obstructed by the very large man sitting in front of him, whenever a good play was made, or him pouring his heart out to the souvenir clerk while he was looking for something special for Artie, or that man promising to "take care of everything".
"It came in the mail today," he added casually, not exactly sure how the gift was going be received on this day. "I think the whole team signed it."
"Wow Dad, thanks," Artie gasped in reply, beaming. He'd never had an autographed, anything, before.
Pleased, Art nodded, then leaned forward to kiss the top of his son's head, while simultaneously pulling the blanket up over the boy. "You're welcome, Ace."
"Night. I love you."
"I love you too, buddy."
Watching the exchange from the doorway, Alicia smiled. And cried. Out of the corner of his eye, Art spotted her and waved her in. As they passed one another, Art mentioned finishing some stuff up before going to bed; though he figured Alicia probably wouldn't make it there. Artie needed her, and she needed him.
No more than a beat later, Art heard Artie ask if Abbey was asleep, and smiling to himself, he went downstairs.
At his mother's nod, Artie frowned. "Awww, I didn't get to tell her goodnight," he groaned softly.
"But you kissed her three times before I came up here to feed her," Alicia countered, almost playfully, and he grinned innocently at her.
Their eyes locked, blue on blue. There was so much emotion there, so much Alicia wanted to say to him, to do...but didn't quite get the chance. For as soon as she was done lovingly brushing his bangs from his forehead, Artie grabbed her hand, much like he used to do at the hospital, and squeezed.
"Stay with me tonight, Mom?"
...
ANx2...Longest chapter ever...and I dedicate it to Megan. Happy(belated) Brithday, Woman! Not quite 5900 words, but close enough:D