So much is happening from last chapter onwards. Francis and Mary go through many ups and downs but they will get to their rainbow eventually.
Warning: Alcohol dependency and premature labour/births.
As Mary lifts the recycling bin to take it out for collection, she feels it's heavier than normal. It's not normally her job, but as Francis had to leave to deal with an emergency at one of the restaurants at six in the morning, she took it upon herself to help him out this once.
Placing it on the kitchen tiles, she widens the top and sighs at the sight of bottles that were once filled with different sorts of spirits and voluminous alcohol. She ties the bag up and lugs it and the normal bin outside before coming back in to grab the food bin. It's just ruined her morning but she doesn't think more about it as she washes her hands and heads up to get the kids ready for school and nursery.
When the kids are at school and she's at work, she can't stop thinking about all the bottles she found. They weren't there yesterday before she went to bed so he must have thought he could get away with it but his urgent presence at the restaurant in need made him forgot about his weekly duty.
"Thanks," she mumbles to Dr Renier who hands her a hot mug of tea. "Busy day?"
"No," he says kindly. "You?"
"Yeah," she sighs.
"I could take two off you," Dr Renier says. "Two new patients."
Mary winces. "They'd rather see a woman," she tells him.
"Ah," he replies knowingly.
Dr Renier is an older guy, roughly about mid-sixty and he's good at his job, having owned his own clinic before selling it on to a colleague and retiring. After five years of doing nothing but golf, his wife had managed to convince him to return to solving people's problems and now, Mary sees an opportunity for a second opinion.
"I have a couple of patients," she starts, Dr Renier entering her office and closing the door behind him before taking a seat on the sofa. "He's dealing with long-term grief, ten years, and has now resorted to alcohol. He's hiding it from his wife and his mood has completely switched from the lovely, sensitive man she knows..." She twists her wedding rings around her finger and she knows he doesn't miss it.
"Has he hurt his wife or their children? Even himself?"
"Not at all. Although there are arguments between him and his wife lately," Mary says, strained. "She doesn't know what to do, how to help him even though she's in a position to help other people when they're dealing with similar situations."
Dr Renier sighs heavily. "Give him time. Well, I'd advise you to tell his wife to give him some time. When he's ready, he will hopefully talk things through with her if their marriage is good with communication?"
"Yeah, it is."
"Then time to go through whatever he's going through. It will pass-"
"But he has kids and he's had long enough," Mary cuts him off. "The wife wasn't this bad when her mother died. Well, at least within the past eight or so years..."
Dr Renier nods. "Has anything changed in the family? It doesn't necessarily have to be grief-propelled, otherwise, this would have begun years ago. So, I'll give the wife a little homework. Find out what is the trigger for this sudden change in behaviour."
"There could be so many triggers," Mary whines slightly. "The tenth anniversary of his father's death last year, what would have been his father's sixtieth birthday last month, his mother's declining health..." She gasps. She hasn't seen Catherine in a long while. Whenever they needed someone to look after the kids, Leeza offered or Charles did.
"I'd advise the wife to seek more information on the trigger and well, be there for him," Dr Renier says kindly before leaving her to her peace.
Mary retrieves her phone and dials Catherine's number. When the woman doesn't answer, she chucks her phone back onto her desk and lets out a frustrated yell. Of course! She's been so busy, so annoyed with her husband's switch in behaviour, she didn't even stop and think what could be triggering it in the first place.
She feels so stupid.
"Fuck."
...
He doesn't come home until two in the morning. He's never been out past nine latest. With the time it takes for him to get to the restaurant the emergency was at and back home, it wouldn't have taken him until two in the morning to return. So, he obviously had made a detour.
She's waiting for him and he stumbles into the kitchen in the darkness, not even noticing the other presence in the room. She stands and blindly switches the light on, making him jump from his position at the sink and turn to her.
"Where the hell have you been?" She asks, her nose cringing when she can smell what he's been doing there exactly.
"B-Bash's," he mumbles, turning back to the sink and running himself a glass of water. "Sympathetic drinking."
Mary scoffs, narrowing her eyes. "Did you forget that you'd read Rose to bed this night?"
"She won't remember, it's fine. I'll do it tomorrow-no, tonight..." He rubs his temples and sighs heavily.
"Why are you doing this?" Mary asks him, shaking her head in disappointment. "This isn't like you."
Francis closes his eyes. "Don't tell me what I'm like."
Mary gapes at him before rounding the counter island to get a good look at him. "Look at you, you stink of alcohol. It sickens me, Francis. You never drink this much." She scoffs. "You need to man up, stop crying 'woe is me' and stop hurting our kids and me with your bullshit!"
"You know what, Mary?" Francis asks as she turns to leave the kitchen and head to bed. She stops by the archway. "You have no right to tell me what to do. It was easy for you. Your mother died when you were young. But here I am, watching my mother die even slower than yours did!"
Mary turns to glare at him. "What?"
"Early-onset dementia, Mary. My mother has it," Francis whispers brokenly. "That's why I was with Bash. She told us." He scoffs. "She's not even sixty, Mary and she's sick."
Mary blinks at him. And there it is, she thinks. He never tells her things right away lately. She has to claw it out of him and she's tired of it. "We'll talk more about it later in the morning. I'm tired, I have work tomorrow and well..." She gestures to him. "You're not in the right frame of mind."
She folds her arms and heads upstairs, hearing him pull a seat out and sit down on it heavily as sobs escape his lips. She doesn't even bother to comfort him, not right now, not when she's not sure whether to slap him or hug him. It's safer to stop herself from doing both.
...
He's slightly better over the next couple of weeks and she even lets him into their bed, missing the feeling of him pressed up against her without smothering her. He doesn't stink of alcohol but she knows he takes at least a glass of something strong a day and limits himself to that. As long as she doesn't smell the aftermath, she can work on that after as they're doing all they can to support Catherine with her new diagnosis.
Even the kids help and Catherine seldom shares warm smiles and grateful baked treats when Mary informs her that they'll never stop the kids from visiting their favourite, albeit only, grandmother. And having James, Anne and Rose around helps Catherine's brain to work efficiently with all of their childish behaviour.
"Keeps me on my toes," she says often.
Mary wakes up to the sound of her phone buzzing on the bedside table and she groans into her pillow, knowing it isn't six in the morning when she normally hits the alarm to wake up for work and to get the kids ready. Sliding the phone off the surface, she squints at the bright screen and sees Kenna calling her.
Quickly, she answers it and sits up in the bed, making Francis shift onto his other side.
"Kenna?"
"They're coming," Kenna says tightly. "I need you."
"What about-"
"Don't say his name. I don't want him there. Mary, please," Kenna begs her.
Mary is already getting out of the bed and going to her dresser to pull leggings and a plain shirt out. "Are you sure you don't want him there? He's their dad-"
"You know how he is right now," Kenna tells her. "He's depressed and whatever else, I don't want that near me as I'm giving birth. He hurt me, I don't want to see him."
"Okay, call an ambulance when I hang up and I'll meet you at the hospital," Mary says. "Take your hospital bag with you. I'll grab a few extra things when I stop by."
Kenna groans. "The spare key's in the hanging flowers."
"Got it. See you soon," Mary replies before hanging up. She turns to see Francis wide awake. "Kenna's waters broke."
"Shit," he says, even more wide awake than he was a second ago. "Is Ana with the au pair?"
"I guess," Mary says, stripping from her pyjamas and getting dressed in the leggings and plain tee before grabbing a sweater from the wardrobe.
Francis also gets out of bed. "I'll call Ba-"
"You'll do no such thing," she quickly says. "Kenna doesn't want him there. So just stay here, get the kids ready for school and nursery and take them there."
Francis nods and gets back into their bed. "They're early."
"It's common in multiple babies," Mary tells him, pulling ankle socks on and grabbing her trainers. "I'll see you later. Love you."
"Love you too," Francis replies before watching her go. "I'll kiss the kids for you."
She pauses by their door with a smile. "Thanks," she says before leaving.
...
It's a scheduled c-section and as the medical team prep Kenna, Mary paces the hallway and tries Bash's phone multiple times. He doesn't answer any of the calls so she hangs up and turns to face the doctor who asks if she's coming in to support Kenna.
"Yeah, I'm her... birthing partner," she says before following him.
She's put into scrubs and has a cap over her hair. She looks quite the sight and wonders how this will go down. She's never been through a c-section nor watched one. She knows Catherine's had one and Anastasia was a c-section too so Kenna's no stranger to the situation. But just as the first pregnancy was, this one is high-risk due to the number of babies present.
"You're doing so well," Mary coos, stroking Kenna's hair. It's all too quick for her and she tries her best to soothe Kenna who can't stop crying with the hues of the anaesthesia she's under. "You're going to see your little ones very soon. And I'm here, I won't leave you."
"Why did he do that to me?" Kenna whispers brokenly.
"I don't know," Mary says. "But I know he loves his kids and... maybe it's time to let him in. It's been over a month."
Kenna hiccups. "No. He only had one chance. I told him when we got together. He blew it greatly."
"I'm sorry," Mary whispers, pressing a kiss on Kenna's hairline. She's quite curious so she watches what the doctors and midwives are doing. She always thought it was a horrid affair, with blood and guts flying everywhere but that was her pregnancy hormones scaring the shit out of her. It's quite peaceful and the doctors and midwives talk them through each step soothingly, making sure Kenna's comfortable and understanding of what is going on to and in her body.
Kenna lets out a soft chuckle. "It's like a weird pressure," she says. "Like something's tickling me but not..."
"That's just baby number one coming out," the midwife announces and before they know it, Kenna and Mary burst into sobs at the sound of a baby's cries. "It's a girl."
Mary rests her forehead against Kenna's. "It's a girl. Ana's got her sister."
Kenna laughs. "Watch the last two be boys."
Mary laughs as well, turning to look at the newborn girl. "She's beautiful, like her mama."
"Okay, we're taking baby number two out..." The doctor announces.
The midwife turns and grins when another cry is heard before turning to the women. "Mama's right, it's a boy and the one still trying to get out is another boy."
"Look at you breaking even," Mary jests to Kenna. "You did it, you wonderful woman. You're so strong and wonderful. Well done, honey."
The midwife turns to Mary. "Would you like to cut the cords?"
"Oh, I'm just her best friend," Mary says. And isn't that the father's thing? Francis cut the cords of all of their children and Mary feels like she's overstepping the line doing it for Bash.
"Just do it, Mary. For him," Kenna says, her voice breaking. "I want him here..."
Mary nods, rising from her position. "I'll do it and I'll call him after."
Right now isn't the time to be petty, she thinks before excitedly cutting each of the cords.
A girl and two boys. Mary's guess was right.
...
It's past one in the afternoon when Kenna awakes from her slumber and Mary turns away from the TV to give her a warm smile. She informs her that the babies are under observation but they're perfectly healthy, on the smaller sides but healthy nonetheless.
"Where's Bash?"
"He's with them," Mary says softly, Kenna sighing in relief. "He didn't want them to be alone, he said he'll be in soon..."
Kenna swallows hard and nods, palming tears away from her eyes. "He cheated the night we argued before I took Ana and myself to the chalet to meet you guys. It was a horrible argument and we said some really hurtful things to each other. He went back to her after we argued last month. It was twice, but they've been flirting and talking regularly. They work together for God's sake, of course, they'd not be deterred. She probably sees him more than I do or even his own daughter does."
"I'm so sorry," Mary whispers sadly.
"When we first got together for real, I told him I wouldn't mind if he got with other women because I obviously was in no position to start having sex but he waited," Kenna says. "And I fell for him even more because he was committed to our relationship, saying he'd wait for me, even if it took twenty years. We'd be celibate together. I don't know what happened to our marriage, how it went so downhill but I can't end things because I have the kids to think about. That and I love him."
Mary smiles sadly. "Do you want me to be your best friend or a therapist right now?"
Kenna gives her a light glare. "Therapist."
"Don't stay with him for the kids' sake. It will do more harm than good and the children will pick up on it," Mary tells her gently.
Kenna sighs heavily, nodding a little. "He regrets it, he knows he should never have initiated such a relationship with her... He even found us a lovely, seven-bedroom home in the suburbs with each kid having their own room and the au pair to have hers... With two for each of us if I can't ever sleep beside him again... I mean, there are worse husbands and since last August, things were really looking up again. We'd have regular dates, take Ana on days out during the weekends. We were happy. And finally having a pregnancy to be excited about without any worries about A, B or C... I have to think about the children, Mary and myself because I can't live without him and I've been a mess regardless of me not wanting him around. You know me, I've never been dependent on anyone because I was always alone but this marriage is all I have at a chance to have a family."
Mary stays silent and takes a hold of Kenna's hand. She gets it. She really doesn't need her psyche analysis of the situation, just a best friend who knows what she's been through from the minute they met in their university dorm room. It feels like a lifetime ago, the whirling energy of Kenna sending her into a fluster most of the time and the full 72 hours of the other woman not knowing her name before gifting her with a dress she never wore as an apology.
There are two times of their friendship. Before Kenna's rape and after Kenna's rape. That day had changed Kenna greatly and Mary sometimes misses the headstrong, confident badarse Kenna was back then. She is still that but only fifty per cent of the time.
"I never wanted a family until Bash. I never dreamed about kids or wedding dresses... And that stemmed from my parents rejecting me," Kenna struggles to get out. "I'll never let my kids grow up in a broken family, I'll never abandon them and I'll never let Bash do the same. What do you say?"
"I say, do what's right for you," Mary replies. "I'm not living your life for you and I see your points and I acknowledge them. Then I also ask if you're certain."
Kenna squeezes her hand. "I am."
"Okay," Mary says. "Then it's decided."
...
That evening, Mary tiredly steps through the door and closes it behind her. She smells dinner and she heads into the dining room to see Francis and the kids enjoying curry and rice with a cartoon on the iPad. She doesn't like the kids being distracted when they eat but she knows how devious her kids get when it's just their father around.
She smiles and goes to hang her coat on before washing her hands and joining her family with kisses on the tops of their heads. She finishes with Francis and he squeezes her hand before she takes a seat.
"Daddy says Auntie Kenna had the babies," Anne says.
Mary smiles widely. "She did! And she now has another daughter and two new sons!"
"Uncle Bash must be so happy," James says, Francis chuckling at that. "He's no longer surrounded by girls. Ew."
"Hey! I'm a girl!" Anne cries out.
"Me!" Rose adds.
Mary and Francis share a snort and she turns to her son. "Your sisters aren't so bad, buddy."
"I guess," James says with a roll of his eyes.
Mary ruffles his hair much to his annoyance before serving herself a plate of hot rice and curry. She takes a bite and moans in pleasure, eyeing her husband curiously.
Swallowing, she says, "You didn't make this, did you?"
"No, my mother did," he says proudly. "She used to make it when we were kids. I'll fill our own Tupperware and give hers back when I see her tomorrow after dropping the kids off."
"Thank God, it's Friday tomorrow," Mary says with a yawn. "I had to cancel all of my clients today unfortunately since Kenna didn't want me to leave but she's okay now."
Francis takes a sip of his water. "Did she let Bash stay?"
"Yeah," Mary says quietly, pouring herself a glass of water from the jug. "Guess you don't have to try and convince her now."
Francis sighs. "Right, kids, hurry up and finish dinner. You've got homework to do and Rosie's got to do her numbers and ABCs!" He says, squeezing Rose's chubby cheeks as she giggles.
"Can Mama help?" Anne asks, turning to her mother with hopeful eyes.
Mary chuckles softly and kisses her daughter's cheek. "Yeah, I'll help you, baby girl."
That night, Mary indulges in a bubble bath. She spots Francis entering their bathroom and he starts stripping on the way towards the bath before sinking into the water at the other end. She kicks him in his thigh and he chuckles, getting a grip of her calf to stop her from kicking him some more.
"God, was it that stressful?" He asks, smelling the intensity of all the bubble bath soaps she added.
"I watched three bloody babies come out a cut apart stomach," she tells him, making him wince. "It was freakishly interesting to see. And I cut the cords."
"Glad you had fun."
Mary giggles. "It's a once-in-a-lifetime experience for me. Never again," she tells him. "I mean, in the case of observing doctors cut apart a woman to grab wailing babies out of her."
"Too graphic!" Francis laughs before wading over to her. "Let's forget about that and think about another graphic idea."
"Can you at least wait until we're in bed?" Mary asks, rubbing his shoulders before nipping at his jawline. "I hate cleaning up after you cause water spillage."
Francis playfully rolls his eyes before getting up. "Hurry up," he says, making her smirk. "Enjoy your bath." He gets out and grabs a towel from the rack.
"Thank you!" She sings.
Finishing with her bubble bath half an hour later, she gets out and dries herself off with a towel before killing the lights and heading into the bedroom. She finds Francis on the phone, discussing some restaurant things and she grabs a new pair of underwear and her pyjamas as it looks like he's busy for the rest of the night.
It's another hour until he's finished with his call and the quick conversation he had with his mother.
"I'll see her tomorrow for a few hours," he informs his wife, silencing his phone and putting it on the bedside table.
Mary gets in their bed, reaching out to caress his cheek. "Is she okay?"
"Yeah, just needed a chat," he says. "Are you tired?"
"Yeah," Mary replies guiltily. "I have a full day's worth of clients. I'm even working until nine since I cancelled and rearranged the ones today."
Francis sighs. "So, no sex?"
"I didn't say that," Mary drawls, inching his shirt up. "Just a quick one."
He gives her a warm smile, bringing her in for a deep kiss, then nipping at her skin before turning his lamp off and pulling her into his arms, her giggles silencing.
...
"...they help, Francis."
Francis's foot reaches the end of the ladder and he brings the box down into his mother's arms. "Then why do you keep insisting put them up in the attic?" He grumbles, jumping down and putting the ladder back up.
"I hate clutter, you know this," Catherine replies dismissively as she heads downstairs. "Photo albums are always good things to keep a hold of. You can show your grandchildren and they can show theirs... Family history is important."
He follows her and they end up in the dining room, photographs littering the wooden table. She attempts to talk him through some but she mostly laughs her forgetfulness off and just admires the images in pride and with emotion.
"...for the life of me remember where I met your father," she says to herself halfway through. She rubs the side of her temples and sighs heavily, moving onto another photo as Francis looks at her warily.
"You know this. You both talked about it to death," Francis replies, digging out photographs of his children from his pocket to add to the album. There are some that include him and Mary and he gives her a grin when she gasps at the family in matching Mickey Mouse wear when they went to Disneyland. "Great day for the kids, a bad one for us. Aching arms and all."
Catherine chuckles before frowning. "Where did we meet...?"
Sighing, Francis helps her. "Culinary school, Maman."
"Oh! Yes," Catherine breathes out. "He left, you know? Couldn't afford it. He was never really serious about it. Kept eyeing me up."
"Maman!" Francis cries out, blushing.
Catherine cackles. "I was young and beautiful, Francis. Still am beautiful. No man could keep their eyes or hands off of me."
"You need to stop-"
"There was one boy. Before your father. We'd call him by his surname, Nostradamus. He was a French foreign exchange student at my high school in Italy and... we could have been together," Catherine says, a faraway look in her eyes as Francis looks at her in surprise. "I wouldn't say he was my first love. We were really close. We had a secret relationship and his parents found out. They were strict, they didn't want their son with an Italian girl. So they sent him to Spain... Can you imagine? If we had run away, I would never have met Henry and have children with him... And I wouldn't be so..." A sob escapes her lips. "Heartbroken..."
Francis brings her into his arms, hugging her tightly. "Do you want to... find him?"
"But I have Dominic now and he's probably moved on and wouldn't want a friendship with me-"
"If it makes you happy, I'd find whoever you wanted me to find," Francis tells her. "Even long-lost loves."
"You're a good boy, Olivier."
Francis stills. "Maman? Who's Olivier?"
Catherine unwraps herself from him, swallowing hard. "Francis... D-Don't ask me-"
"You called me 'Olivier'," Francis states. "Who is he?"
"Your half-brother..."
...
It's just past half nine when Mary gets home. She doesn't bother entering the kitchen and she heads straight to the living room to place her takeaway down on the coffee table, flicking the TV on. She takes her coat off and puts it away before washing her hands and taking a seat in front of her dinner and the TV. It's just catch up News and she changes the channel to some drama.
Mary looks down at the food she's got. There's so much of it, she's been feeling incredibly hungry lately, snacking in between clients and relieving her bladder constantly. She feels tired too but she's always tired after a long day at work.
Halfway through her meal, she hears heavy footsteps on the stairs and she freezes mid-bite. She hears them head to the kitchen and she can hear some rustling before the tap runs and the kettle starts running soon after. Waiting, she continues to eat as she listens to the background noise.
"You're home," she hears her husband say as he places two identical mugs down. He must have not had the chance to run the dishwasher as they have personalised mugs from their kids for Mothers' and Fathers' Days.
She's about to grab a mug but he stops her and takes it for herself, leaving the other one for her. "Yeah."
"Hot chocolate for you, salted caramel. Just a plain one for me," he explains his actions before. "How was work?"
"Stressful," she mumbles. "I had a kid scared of the monsters under his bed."
Francis awes, taking a sip of his drink. "What did you tell him?"
"The same thing I told Anne when she was scared - spray them away before you sleep and they won't keep you up."
"Good," Francis says, chugging most of his hot chocolate down.
Mary's eye twitches when she gets a whiff of something but he's up already and heading to the kitchen. "Staying up?"
"I'm tired, babe," he says. "Had a long day myself."
"How was your moth-"
"Not right now," he cuts her off gently. "I don't want to think about her right now."
He leaves his wife stunned slightly as he makes his way to the kitchen and washes his mug hard and with hot water. He wrings his hands out and dries them with the kitchen rag before grabbing the recycling bin and tying it up to take outside. It's quite full. He helped James with a school project and he's got some bottles inside it but it isn't heavy as he heads out through the garage door to put it in the garage until the next collection day next week. Entering the kitchen, he grabs a fresh recycling bag and slots it into the bin before washing his hands again and heading up to bed.
When he reaches the top, he pauses to look at the height chart and his fingers brush over the names.
None of the names is Olivier's.
Ooh, who is Olivier? It will be a while until we find out.