Henry Blake was nearly trembling as he sat down in his old office chair
once more, nearly having a suspicion that it was going to explode as it had
on one previous occasion. He stared at the phone, then quickly picked it
up and lifted it to his ear.
"Lorraine, honey, it's me, Henry!" he blurted out.
"Oh. Yes, please, operator, put it through."
Wildly excited and nearly panicking, Henry's heart began to beat again, unsteadily, and he allowed himself to start breathing again to try and stabilize it. As concerned his wife, he'd had a private discussion with the Seneschal the previous night before things got hairy. As Joles outlined, he had several options where she was concerned. He could tell her everything; upon which point it would be necessary to either embrace her, ghoul her, or kill her. The same, of course, going for the children. The last of these three options, of course, being completely out of the question, the first two weighed heavily on that end of the scale. On the other hand, of course, he could tell her nothing. And disappear from her life for the rest of... for the rest of... whatever rest was left to him, at this point. Immortality hovered over Henry like a specter as he tried to look into an interminable future of trying to stop his beast from making him beat people's brains in with golf clubs. He spun his chair around to face the wall, the phone cord becoming taut in a circle around it. His harried face suddenly broke into his normal, warm, goofy grin.
"Lorraine! Yes, it's me!" Even as he said it, he knew this would be the last time he'd ever speak to her. "Yes, honey, I know what you heard, it's-- don't cry, Lorraine, it was all a misunderstanding, I'm fine! Just-- just fine. There was... a little trouble with the plane, and you know army intelligence, right? A couterdiction in terms... oh, somewhere, someone got the wires crossed and there were paper trails to clean up and... oh, you don't want to hear all about it."
"Yeah, honey, no, don't worry about calling mom and dad, I'll call them up myself from here before I go... yeah, honey, I'm still coming home... I'll probably be leaving... tomorrow, tomorrow night, latest. Look, I... I probably won't get to ring you up again before I go, so if you don't hear from me for a week or so, don't... don't panic, I'm sure I'm on my way... what?"
"What color do I want the living room sofa in?"
"Oh, jeez, Lorraine, I don't know, just pick whatever you..."
"Why don't you let Andrew decide, he's still man of the house while I'm--"
"He wants WHAT color?"
"Oh, fine, fine, Lorraine, well, why not that light green that matches the curtains?"
"Okay. Then it's settled."
"Yeah, Lorraine, it'll be great to be back. Lorraine?"
"Know I love you... no matter what... okay?" Unspoken: 'Enough to never want you to find out that creatures like me exist.'
"Okay. Okay. Yeah. I'll see you soon."
"Bye."
Henry held the phone tightly against his ear as he heard his wife's last farewell, the snap of the line disconnecting, and then static.
He slowly turned back around, putting down the receiver and, purely out of habit, reaching for the key to his liquor cabinet. It wasn't there, of course.
Looking up, he noticed the audience that had accrued in the doorway. Radar looked down at the ground, his wool cap's brim covering the top of his face. Hawkeye looked straight at Henry, not bothering to clear his eyes of the tears accumulating there, and downed a martini-glass of homemade gin like it was the only thing keeping him alive.
~
"Lorraine, honey, it's me, Henry!" he blurted out.
"Oh. Yes, please, operator, put it through."
Wildly excited and nearly panicking, Henry's heart began to beat again, unsteadily, and he allowed himself to start breathing again to try and stabilize it. As concerned his wife, he'd had a private discussion with the Seneschal the previous night before things got hairy. As Joles outlined, he had several options where she was concerned. He could tell her everything; upon which point it would be necessary to either embrace her, ghoul her, or kill her. The same, of course, going for the children. The last of these three options, of course, being completely out of the question, the first two weighed heavily on that end of the scale. On the other hand, of course, he could tell her nothing. And disappear from her life for the rest of... for the rest of... whatever rest was left to him, at this point. Immortality hovered over Henry like a specter as he tried to look into an interminable future of trying to stop his beast from making him beat people's brains in with golf clubs. He spun his chair around to face the wall, the phone cord becoming taut in a circle around it. His harried face suddenly broke into his normal, warm, goofy grin.
"Lorraine! Yes, it's me!" Even as he said it, he knew this would be the last time he'd ever speak to her. "Yes, honey, I know what you heard, it's-- don't cry, Lorraine, it was all a misunderstanding, I'm fine! Just-- just fine. There was... a little trouble with the plane, and you know army intelligence, right? A couterdiction in terms... oh, somewhere, someone got the wires crossed and there were paper trails to clean up and... oh, you don't want to hear all about it."
"Yeah, honey, no, don't worry about calling mom and dad, I'll call them up myself from here before I go... yeah, honey, I'm still coming home... I'll probably be leaving... tomorrow, tomorrow night, latest. Look, I... I probably won't get to ring you up again before I go, so if you don't hear from me for a week or so, don't... don't panic, I'm sure I'm on my way... what?"
"What color do I want the living room sofa in?"
"Oh, jeez, Lorraine, I don't know, just pick whatever you..."
"Why don't you let Andrew decide, he's still man of the house while I'm--"
"He wants WHAT color?"
"Oh, fine, fine, Lorraine, well, why not that light green that matches the curtains?"
"Okay. Then it's settled."
"Yeah, Lorraine, it'll be great to be back. Lorraine?"
"Know I love you... no matter what... okay?" Unspoken: 'Enough to never want you to find out that creatures like me exist.'
"Okay. Okay. Yeah. I'll see you soon."
"Bye."
Henry held the phone tightly against his ear as he heard his wife's last farewell, the snap of the line disconnecting, and then static.
He slowly turned back around, putting down the receiver and, purely out of habit, reaching for the key to his liquor cabinet. It wasn't there, of course.
Looking up, he noticed the audience that had accrued in the doorway. Radar looked down at the ground, his wool cap's brim covering the top of his face. Hawkeye looked straight at Henry, not bothering to clear his eyes of the tears accumulating there, and downed a martini-glass of homemade gin like it was the only thing keeping him alive.
~