Okay, this chapter is a bit longer. I'm sorry the last one was so short,
but you can see why I wanted it to end where it did. Anyway, thanks for all
the reviews, they were awesome and I'm happy to say all the Richard-haters
have finally stopped sending me bad reviews! I'm sorry for using him, but
c'mon people, I killed the poor guy off for Pete's sake! Anyway, please
enjoy chapter five! Review, and I will definitely post......it might be
awhile b/c I'm going to New York for a debate tournament-wish me luck!
Anyway, PLEASE REVIEW!
Chapter Five
disclaimer: Ryan and Micaela are mine, but that would be it.
Never in her life had Monica imagined she'd be standing in her husband's receiving line when she was not even forty. Sure, maybe her mom's receiving line, even her dad's, but her husband's? No way. Even though he was as old as her father, she'd always seemed to think he'd be around forever.
But now she stood, shaking the hands of all the friends and relatives who came by, saying how sorry they were, how they were there for her, how they understood.
Understood? How could they possibly understand? That was just it-they couldn't. No one ever could.
Hand after hand Monica shook, and she didn't really pay much attention, until a man she didn't recognize appeared before her eyes. "Uh, hi," he said uncomfortably, "I, uh, guess you're probably wondering who I am."
Monica nodded, and the man continued. "My name is Chandler Bing, and um....well, I was sitting next to your husband on the, well I mean......uh, well, I was sitting next to him on the plane," he said, finally just spitting it out.
For a second, Monica was speechless. Finally, she spoke, "You were with him?" she said softly.
Chandler nodded. "He, uh, I mean, I only knew him for a couple hours, but he was a great guy," Chandler said softly, wondering how much he should say so as not to make her too upset. He watched her reaction, breathing a sigh of relief when she only nodded.
"Thank you," she said, "I mean, thank you for coming. And I uh, I hope your leg gets better," she said, pointing to his broken leg, and gesturing to his crutches.
"Thanks," Chandler smiled, "But I was lucky."
"Yeah," Monica said softly, "You were." ***
"Mommy!" Micaela screeched, "Ryan hit me!"
Monica sighed as her daughter came running out of the playroom, with Ryan trailing behind her, yelling, "No, I didn't!" She shook her head. Why had this all seemed so much easier when Richard had been around?
"Ryan, did you hit your sister?" she asked, as patiently as she could.
"No," he said, averting her eyes.
"Ryan....."
"Fine!" Ryan said, "But she deserved it," he said coldly.
"Ryan," Monica said, exhausted and exasperated, "We do not hit other people in this house, no matter what the circumstances, all right?"
"Right, whatever," Ryan said bitterly, as he stomped off. Monica sighed. When had her six-year-old turned into a teenager?
It was like this every night. Her once picture perfect life had melted into a mess of late-afternoon daycare, quick, burnt dinners, constant fights, and no time for herself. Richard's death had caused her to go back to work, and though she'd easily found work as a chef, Ryan and Micaela, accustomed to having a stay-at-home mommy, had not adjusted easily. Neither had she.
"Kids, dinner!" Monica yelled, attempting to divide the spaghetti between the three plates. Had it only been a short while ago when she'd prepared delicious, extravagant meals for her family? Now she had so little time to cook at night, it was a rare thing if she even had time to make something as simple as macaroni and cheese.
"Mommy?" Micaela asked, breaking the family's recent dinnertime silence.
"Yes, sweetheart?" Monica said tiredly.
"When's Daddy coming home?"
Before Monica could answer, Ryan opened his mouth, "He's not coming home, stupid," he said coldly, throwing a glare at Monica, then at Micaela, "He's dead."
"Dead?" Micaela asked, "But then where is he?"
Monica sighed. She'd tried numerous times to explain to Micaela what had happened, but to no avail. And Ryan was certainly no help. "Sweetie, Ryan's right. Daddy isn't coming home. But that doesn't mean he's not with you. He's in your heart."
"But how'd he get in there?" Micaela asked curiously.
Monica sighed. It was going to be a long night. But then again, it wouldn't be the first. And it certainly wouldn't be the last.
***
Monica rushed into the school building and raced down the hallway. She was practically out of breath as she reached the main office and burst in. "Excuse me," she said to the receptionist, "I'm Monica Burke, Ryan Burke's mother. I got a call at work...."
"Yes, of course," the receptionist said, "The principal will see you right now," she said, pointing to a small office.
Monica rushed into the principal's office. "Hello, Mrs. Burke," the principal, Mr. Jacobs said, "I suppose you're wondering why you were called?" Monica nodded. "Well," Mr. Jacobs began, "Your son was involved in a fist-fight today during recess."
Monica put a hand to her mouth, "My son? Ryan? He hit someone?"
"Several times, in fact. I've talked to him, and he says there's a reason, but he won't say what. The boy he was in the fight with said he didn't do anything, however."
Monica gulped. What had happened to her son? "Can I see him?" she asked.
"Yes, of course," the principal said, and motioned to the back of the main office, where the small blond boy sat, holding a paper towel to a bloody nose.
"Ryan, baby, what happened?" Monica asked, rushing over to her son.
Ryan looked up at his mother, his expression a mixture of anger and sadness. "Jonathan and I got into a fight," he said simply.
Monica smiled at Ryan, trying to convey to him that she wasn't angry- yet. "But why, sweetie?" she asked, "Why'd you hit Jonathan? I thought he was your friend."
Ryan was silent for a long time. Then, finally, he spoke, very softly, "He said I didn't have a daddy."
*** Six Months Later:
"Uncle Ross!" Micaela screeched happily, "You came!"
"Of course I came! I wouldn't miss my favorite niece's fifth birthday, would I?"
Micaela grinned happily, "Where's Aunt Rachel?" she asked.
Just then, Rachel appeared from behind the car, "Hey, sweetie," she called out, "Happy Birthday!" Micaela ran to her aunt for a hug, and Monica watched the scene, her emotions going from happy at the sight of her excited daughter to sad at the sight of her brother lifting his one-year- old daughter, Olivia, from the car. She watched uneasily as Ross cooed to his daughter, laughing as he tickled her stomach and told her how much her daddy loved her.
A daddy. That was the one birthday present Monica knew Micaela wanted. And the one she knew she wouldn't get.
***
"So how're you doing, Mon?" Rachel asked, as they cleaned up from Micaela's birthday party.
"I'm okay," Monica lied, "Things are good. My job's good. Ryan's gotten a lot better, too."
Rachel glanced at her best friend, unsure. "Really?" she said.
"Yeah, really," Monica said through her teeth, a bit angry at Rachel's reaction. "Things are fine, Rachel. Stop pushing."
"Okay, it's just....." Rachel said, "It's just......"
"It's just what, Rachel?" Monica demanded.
"It's just if you ever need to talk, I'm here."
Monica was silent for a long time. Finally, she allowed her bright blue eyes, recently dimmed in the previous months, to fill with tears. "All right," she whispered, "Things aren't good. Ryan isn't good. Micaela isn't good. They want a daddy," she said softly, "And I........"
"You what, sweetie?" Rachel said, putting her arm around her friend.
"I want a husband," she said softly.
Chapter Five
disclaimer: Ryan and Micaela are mine, but that would be it.
Never in her life had Monica imagined she'd be standing in her husband's receiving line when she was not even forty. Sure, maybe her mom's receiving line, even her dad's, but her husband's? No way. Even though he was as old as her father, she'd always seemed to think he'd be around forever.
But now she stood, shaking the hands of all the friends and relatives who came by, saying how sorry they were, how they were there for her, how they understood.
Understood? How could they possibly understand? That was just it-they couldn't. No one ever could.
Hand after hand Monica shook, and she didn't really pay much attention, until a man she didn't recognize appeared before her eyes. "Uh, hi," he said uncomfortably, "I, uh, guess you're probably wondering who I am."
Monica nodded, and the man continued. "My name is Chandler Bing, and um....well, I was sitting next to your husband on the, well I mean......uh, well, I was sitting next to him on the plane," he said, finally just spitting it out.
For a second, Monica was speechless. Finally, she spoke, "You were with him?" she said softly.
Chandler nodded. "He, uh, I mean, I only knew him for a couple hours, but he was a great guy," Chandler said softly, wondering how much he should say so as not to make her too upset. He watched her reaction, breathing a sigh of relief when she only nodded.
"Thank you," she said, "I mean, thank you for coming. And I uh, I hope your leg gets better," she said, pointing to his broken leg, and gesturing to his crutches.
"Thanks," Chandler smiled, "But I was lucky."
"Yeah," Monica said softly, "You were." ***
"Mommy!" Micaela screeched, "Ryan hit me!"
Monica sighed as her daughter came running out of the playroom, with Ryan trailing behind her, yelling, "No, I didn't!" She shook her head. Why had this all seemed so much easier when Richard had been around?
"Ryan, did you hit your sister?" she asked, as patiently as she could.
"No," he said, averting her eyes.
"Ryan....."
"Fine!" Ryan said, "But she deserved it," he said coldly.
"Ryan," Monica said, exhausted and exasperated, "We do not hit other people in this house, no matter what the circumstances, all right?"
"Right, whatever," Ryan said bitterly, as he stomped off. Monica sighed. When had her six-year-old turned into a teenager?
It was like this every night. Her once picture perfect life had melted into a mess of late-afternoon daycare, quick, burnt dinners, constant fights, and no time for herself. Richard's death had caused her to go back to work, and though she'd easily found work as a chef, Ryan and Micaela, accustomed to having a stay-at-home mommy, had not adjusted easily. Neither had she.
"Kids, dinner!" Monica yelled, attempting to divide the spaghetti between the three plates. Had it only been a short while ago when she'd prepared delicious, extravagant meals for her family? Now she had so little time to cook at night, it was a rare thing if she even had time to make something as simple as macaroni and cheese.
"Mommy?" Micaela asked, breaking the family's recent dinnertime silence.
"Yes, sweetheart?" Monica said tiredly.
"When's Daddy coming home?"
Before Monica could answer, Ryan opened his mouth, "He's not coming home, stupid," he said coldly, throwing a glare at Monica, then at Micaela, "He's dead."
"Dead?" Micaela asked, "But then where is he?"
Monica sighed. She'd tried numerous times to explain to Micaela what had happened, but to no avail. And Ryan was certainly no help. "Sweetie, Ryan's right. Daddy isn't coming home. But that doesn't mean he's not with you. He's in your heart."
"But how'd he get in there?" Micaela asked curiously.
Monica sighed. It was going to be a long night. But then again, it wouldn't be the first. And it certainly wouldn't be the last.
***
Monica rushed into the school building and raced down the hallway. She was practically out of breath as she reached the main office and burst in. "Excuse me," she said to the receptionist, "I'm Monica Burke, Ryan Burke's mother. I got a call at work...."
"Yes, of course," the receptionist said, "The principal will see you right now," she said, pointing to a small office.
Monica rushed into the principal's office. "Hello, Mrs. Burke," the principal, Mr. Jacobs said, "I suppose you're wondering why you were called?" Monica nodded. "Well," Mr. Jacobs began, "Your son was involved in a fist-fight today during recess."
Monica put a hand to her mouth, "My son? Ryan? He hit someone?"
"Several times, in fact. I've talked to him, and he says there's a reason, but he won't say what. The boy he was in the fight with said he didn't do anything, however."
Monica gulped. What had happened to her son? "Can I see him?" she asked.
"Yes, of course," the principal said, and motioned to the back of the main office, where the small blond boy sat, holding a paper towel to a bloody nose.
"Ryan, baby, what happened?" Monica asked, rushing over to her son.
Ryan looked up at his mother, his expression a mixture of anger and sadness. "Jonathan and I got into a fight," he said simply.
Monica smiled at Ryan, trying to convey to him that she wasn't angry- yet. "But why, sweetie?" she asked, "Why'd you hit Jonathan? I thought he was your friend."
Ryan was silent for a long time. Then, finally, he spoke, very softly, "He said I didn't have a daddy."
*** Six Months Later:
"Uncle Ross!" Micaela screeched happily, "You came!"
"Of course I came! I wouldn't miss my favorite niece's fifth birthday, would I?"
Micaela grinned happily, "Where's Aunt Rachel?" she asked.
Just then, Rachel appeared from behind the car, "Hey, sweetie," she called out, "Happy Birthday!" Micaela ran to her aunt for a hug, and Monica watched the scene, her emotions going from happy at the sight of her excited daughter to sad at the sight of her brother lifting his one-year- old daughter, Olivia, from the car. She watched uneasily as Ross cooed to his daughter, laughing as he tickled her stomach and told her how much her daddy loved her.
A daddy. That was the one birthday present Monica knew Micaela wanted. And the one she knew she wouldn't get.
***
"So how're you doing, Mon?" Rachel asked, as they cleaned up from Micaela's birthday party.
"I'm okay," Monica lied, "Things are good. My job's good. Ryan's gotten a lot better, too."
Rachel glanced at her best friend, unsure. "Really?" she said.
"Yeah, really," Monica said through her teeth, a bit angry at Rachel's reaction. "Things are fine, Rachel. Stop pushing."
"Okay, it's just....." Rachel said, "It's just......"
"It's just what, Rachel?" Monica demanded.
"It's just if you ever need to talk, I'm here."
Monica was silent for a long time. Finally, she allowed her bright blue eyes, recently dimmed in the previous months, to fill with tears. "All right," she whispered, "Things aren't good. Ryan isn't good. Micaela isn't good. They want a daddy," she said softly, "And I........"
"You what, sweetie?" Rachel said, putting her arm around her friend.
"I want a husband," she said softly.