Everyday Peril
Chapter 14: The Chocolate War
She had never cried like this before. He would have
known, would have remembered, could probably use only his ten fingers to count
the times he had seen her in tears. But not one of those fingers would have
stood for a time like this. Her sobs were not just for their lost child,
although that was a big part of it; they were for the pain she had caused
everyone, the pain she felt They were for everything, all those times she
didn't cry, all the times she should have.
She had broken, and he realized it was what she had needed all along. He had
let her keep herself from the very thing she needed. Like a broken bone that
needed to break again before mending the right way, Sydney had to fall apart before she got better, before things
went back to the way they were before.
But it was still starting to scare him. Michael had never seen tears like this
in anyone. Ever. Because no one he had ever known had
felt such guilt and grief. He held her tightly in his arms, knowing that if he
let go, she would have gone tumbling to the ground, both in mind and body.
After a few moments, Sydney struggled out of his arms. Instinct told him to let her
go, even though he didn't want to take his arms from around her. Her tears were
choking her, gagging her, sickening her; and she leaned over the railing, her
body heaving. But her stomach was empty, her body's efforts fruitless. Michael
never lost contact with her, had an arm around her waist to hold her up while
his other hand rubbed her back.
Slowly, her sobs began to subside. She had run out of tears, crying more in
that one moment than he had ever seen her cry in all the years he had known
her. She took a deep, shaking breath, body trembling as if the air had to fight
its way into her lungs. Her breathing still uneven but the tears no long
blinding her completely, she finally turned to meet his gaze.
Her eyes pained him, red and swollen, of course, but so teeming with emotion,
with anger and sadness and guilt and fear. So filled with sorrow that it seemed
as if it had transformed into something tangible and made up her tears, as if
it was what had overflowed and wracked her body with such violent sobs.
"M-M-Michael…" Her voice was so soft that he could barely tell when that one
word trailed off, almost didn't notice that it wasn't followed by any others.
"Shhh, baby, it's okay." He
cradled her face with his hands, bringing his thumbs up to brush across her
eyes, trying unsuccessfully to rid them of the sorrow still puddled
there.
She fell into him, wrapping her arms tightly around his chest. Despite the warm
temperature outside and her long sweater, she was shivering. Perhaps the cold
she felt was physical, or maybe it was left over from
the chill that had so recently given up its invasion of her soul. He hugged her
back, rubbing his arms against her to warm her, hoping it would help whether
she was shivering from the cold outside or within.
"No, Michael. It's not okay," she finally mumbled into his shirt, her lips
vibrating against the fabric that was already damp with her tears.
"But it will be." It had to be. It would because he would make sure it did,
would give anything to have things back the way they were before.
She took her arms from around him and pressed them between her body and his,
pushing harder against him, wanting and needing to be as close to him as
possible. It seemed an eternity since she had been in his arms.
"I'm so sorry, Michael." For everything…
"I know," he murmured, understanding now that she needed to apologize, learning
the hard way that it wasn't always best to try to hide from the bitter truth,
to cover it with candy-coated sprinkles and pretend it was as sweet as ice
cream and not as disgusting as Aunt Trish's meatloaf. Because the meatloaf is
still there, and although the sprinkles detract from its ugliness, the taste
remains. And there is no way candy can make that better. If anything, the sugar
only contrasts with the vile dish so vividly that it makes it ten times worse.
Neither of them said a word for a few minutes, both content to have the other
back. Michael never loosened the hold he had on his wife, was surprised that
she hadn't complained of lack of air. But she merely rested her head against
him, her fingers moving restlessly against his chest.
"We lost our baby, Michael," Sydney finally whispered, breaking the silence. "I lost
our baby."
"No, Sydney. Don't," Michael commanded, gently but firmly. She seemed convinced
that she was the cause of this, of all of it. And while both of them knew that
she had unintentionally prolonged their sorrow and suffering, she had not been
the cause of everything. No one was or ever could be. "It is not your
fault."
"But I…"
"Syd, that could have happened to anyone, anywhere.
There's no way in hell you or I or anyone else could have stopped it. Just like
there's no way to prevent Jonny from hitting his head
on the coffee table, or Hailey from getting the flu. Those things happen everyday. There's no way to stop them."
He wished there was. That he could somehow prevent his family from ever being
scraped or bruised, from ever shedding a single tear, or even seeing a rainy
day. But there was no way to prevent or even prepare for the perils of everyday
life. They happened without warning and were over before you even had a chance
to blink, leaving you to somehow clean up the mess, whether it was with a
simple Band-Aid or two weeks of grief.
"But you and the kids," Sydney began. "I wasn't there to help Hailey through the most
traumatic experience of her life, or to answer William's simple question, and…"
She hadn't been there at all for any of them, but even that wasn't the worst of
it, not in her mind. Because although the children noticed that their mother
didn't smile, she was always there to hug them before they left for daycare and
to kiss them goodnight. But…
"…I was awful to you, Michael. There's no way I could ever apologize enough to
any of you."
"We're not asking for that, Syd. The kids just want you to be there for them
now. The twins hardly know what's going on as it is, and Hailey will forget all
about it as soon as her cast comes off."
They were young; wouldn't even remember come this time next year. Surrounded by
so much love and happiness, what few sad times they did have seemed nothing
more than a bad dream. Hailey could tell him everything that had happened two
Christmases ago, but the visit to the emergency room that resulted from her
then newfound walnut allergy was nothing more than a blur.
"But what about you?"
She didn't seem to understand what it meant to him to be with her, what it had
always meant just to give her a quick peck on the lips. All she could think of
was the pain she had served to him, the hateful things she had said, the way
she had treated him…
"Syd, I'm just glad to have you safe in my arms right now. I don't need
anything else."
She understood then how he felt. Because his heart was beating with hers,
mirroring her love for him. Because she could never be held close enough to
him, could never get enough kisses from his lips, could never tire of being in
his arms. Because she loved him.
"I don't deserve you," she whispered, her voice thick with emotion, and for a
moment he was afraid she would cry again.
"Don't ever say that, Syd." He couldn't even think of any other woman he would
rather be with, and thanks to the way she talked in her sleep,
he knew that he was the only man she dreamed about at night. "We deserve each
other. I would be nothing without you." He paused, tilting her chin up so he
could look into her eyes. "I love you, Sydney."
"I love you, too," she murmured.
Although her voice was quiet, her response was immediate, automatic, without
hesitation or a second thought. His heart sang at that, the feeling nearly
painful. It was as if it had let out such a sweet, strong note that it had
simply burst, filling him with warmth. He would have pulled her tighter against
him, but realized that was impossible, so he kissed the top of her head.
Everything was almost better. Not quite happy; that would come later, when the
last of the pain had finally left, when the shock of sudden, strong emotion had
left her and she was ready to feel again. But there was one thing left, one
thing that had to be said.
"Syd?"
She looked up at him, meeting his eyes without uttering a word. But he had her
attention, and that was enough. He had her, and that was all he needed.
"We can always try again," he murmured.
"Yeah?"
Her one-word response may have seemed uncaring or less than enthusiastic,
there may not have been a smile on her face. But her eyes spoke volumes. A
glint of hope, happiness, and love was all he needed to know that it was indeed
going to be all right, that he didn't have to try to convince himself of
something that was never going to happen, that his Sydney was hidden beneath
the guilt and sorrow, would fight her way out of the pain and into the bliss
that was their usual life.
"Yeah," he answered, smiling down at her as she laid her head against him once
again. "If you want to, and when we're ready. Otherwise, we have three
beautiful children at home already. And I'll always have you. I'll be happy
either way."
She didn't respond to that at first, and he almost thought he had lost her again.
But she finally did speak, not the words he would have wanted to hear, but the
ones she needed to say yet again, probably felt she could never say enough.
"I really am sorry, Michael." Thank you, I'm sorry, I love you more than
life itself…
"I know, baby. I know."
And that was that. A half an hour of tears and quiet conversation had taken
care of it, could have smoothed it over much earlier, would have prevented her
from wasting away and given them both back the last two weeks.
He didn't know how long they both stood there, wrapped in each other's arms. It
was pure, enraptured heaven, and if he could have found a way to bottle that
moment, he would have without a second thought. Not to market and sell it to
the masses, not to profit from its surefire success, but to hoard for his very
own. To keep it in a damp, darkened cellar and let it sweeten with age, only
bringing it out on a most deserving occasion.
Sydney was finally relaxed, seemed almost to be falling asleep in
his arms. And he would have stayed that way with her forever if he hadn't
realized that the sun was beginning to set and his children would probably be
corrupted beyond repair if they stayed at Eric's much longer.
"Syd, baby?" he whispered, deciding that if she was asleep, he would pick her
up and carry her to the car, instead of waking her.
"Hmm?"
"We should go get the kids."
He felt her nod as she broke away from him, reaching into her pocket for her
keys. But Michael plucked them gently from her fingers the moment she took them
out. He didn't care that she had only had the car for a little over a week or
that by the pier was probably not the best place to leave it. She was in no
condition to drive, and after just getting her back, he didn't plan on letting
her out of his sight.
"We can get it tomorrow," he shrugged to answer to her questioning glance.
"Okay."
She didn't fight him as she probably would have two weeks ago. I can drive
my car, Michael. There's no reason to leave it here. We'll come back tomorrow
and it'll be gone… As annoying as it was at times, that seemingly
death-defying stubborn streak was a part of her. It would still take some time
before she would come back to him completely, but it would happen. Everything
would go back to normal, back to happiness. He was sure of it.
"Daddy!!" Hailey squealed, pouncing on him the
second he walked through Eric's door. As before, no one had answered his knock,
so he let himself in.
"Hey, sweetheart. Did you have fun with Uncle Eric?"
The little girl nodded vigorously, pulling on his hand until he was kneeling at
her eyelevel. "We watched A Turn of the Jet Eye…"
"Jedi! Return of the Jedi!"
Eric called, rounding the corner. "Hey, Mike."
"… Only the end, 'cause it was on TV. And there was a
robot and teddybears and a princess, but she didn't
wear a pretty dress or a crown," Hailey chattered. "Where's Mommy?"
"In the car," Michael answered, giving his daughter a hug and a smile before
standing. He had made Sydney stay in there while he went in to get the kids, promising
to be back quickly. She didn't argue against that either, probably hadn't
really wanted to go in, in the first place.
"So, did you…?" Eric asked.
"Yeah, everything's gonna be okay."
Eric grinned, deciding it was safe to take this conversation one step further.
"Good, because when I see you at work tomorrow, you better not have that look
on your face."
"What look?" Hailey asked innocently, her curiosity never failing.
Michael scowled at his friend. He would have thought that having a child of his
own would have made Eric more careful of what he said, but that definitely did
not appear to be the case. He was just as bad now as he had been before, and
there was no doubt about it that poor little Drew was going to know much more
about certain subjects by the time he was six than the Vaughn children would
know when they were thirteen.
"Uh, that look," Eric answered, laughing nervously and gesturing to the
frown that had yet to leave Michael's face.
Hailey frowned, examining her father. "Daddy never looks mad like that at
home."
"That's because he…"
Michael's glare this time could have sent even the bravest man running from the
room screaming. But his friend had seen it more than once before.
"… has you three beautiful children." Eric finished
after a quick pause, smiling with satisfaction.
"That's right," Michael responded, shaking his head at his friend and sighing.
"And your pretty mommy," Eric continued, eyes dancing as he maneuvered himself
well out of Michael's reach.
Drew and Jonny chose that moment to come barreling
down the hallway, and Eric grabbed Jonny as he
passed. William was following much slower, and parked himself by his father's
feet without any prodding.
"Francie didn't come back yet?" Michael asked,
although he was already sure of the answer. A quick glance around the house
confirmed it just as easily.
"No, she called about half an hour ago. Ran into one of her old friends at the
mall and went out to dinner with her."
"So, I bet you're hungry," Michael said to his kids, getting ready to usher
them out the door.
"Actually, I fed them."
Was it really Eric speaking? Eric Weiss. The very same man who had a special
knack for burning Ramen Noodles back when they had first met? It had to be that
Eric, simply because with the exception of himself, there were no other adult
males in the house. It took Michael a moment to answer, even to buy time with a
simple question.
"What?" He still couldn't believe this statement. How on earth could his friend
have fed four children without killing any of them or sending the house up in
flames?
"Yeah. Macaroni and cheese," Eric stated, grinning
proudly.
"'Roni! 'Roni!
'Roni!" Jonny
cheered, jumping up and down.
"I'm still hungry," Hailey whined.
"You can take some home," Eric suggested to Michael. "I figured, four kids,
four boxes, and then threw in a couple extra just in case. But I guess your
kids don't eat that much, because there's a lot left over."
Hailey yanked on her father's arm to get his attention, shaking her head
vigorously. "It had orange powdery stuff in it," she explained. "And the
macaronis was crunchy." Her eyes were pleading; he could almost hear the little
voice inside her head: Please don't take it, Daddy. Say no. Please…
"Jonny liked it," Eric stated, a little too
defensively, considering he was arguing with a four-year-old.
"He eats Donovan's food all the time," Hailey shrugged.
And Michael wanted to laugh. His friend had been most assuredly beaten, and he
decided to interject before things got ugly. "Thanks for watching them, Eric. I
owe you one."
"You owe me more than that, man. You have three kids. This one," he said,
pointing to William, "I'll take anytime. I forgot he was here a couple times.
But the other two…"
"Tomorrow, Eric," Michael interrupted before anyone could get their feelings
hurt. "We have to go… Take your brother's hand," he said to Hailey, and she
obeyed and grabbed Jonny as he scooped up William.
"Thanks again."
He led his children out the door. Sydney had gotten out of the car to help him get the kids buckled
in, and she waved to Eric.
"Hey, Syd!" he called, and then, evidently still hurt about the whole macaroni
and cheese incident but wanting to make it right (most likely to prevent Hailey
from telling everyone she knew how bad of a cook her Uncle Eric was). "Oh,
wait, Hailey. I have something for you. Come here."
Hailey looked up at her father, and Michael nodded for her to go ahead. He
quickly grabbed Jonny's hand as she let it go and
scampered back towards the house. Michael and Sydney silently buckled the twins
in and both ended up on the passenger's side of the car, waiting for Hailey to
return.
Eric's front door opened and Hailey bounded out, slamming it shut. "Daddy! Look what Uncle Eric gave me!"
"What's that, sweetheart?" He asked, giving Sydney a wry smile. Previous experience had awarded him with the
knowledge that that statement usually did not precede something good.
"There's no nuts in them and he let me try some back
in the house," she cried happily, waving something in the air so energetically
that he couldn't tell what it was. "They're good. Uncle Eric says they melt in
your mouth and not in your hands," she added, forcing something into his palm.
"How come we never have them at home?"
Michael didn't need to look down to know what he held in his hand. But he did
anyway. A rainbow of colors, but all he saw was the red. Red
everywhere. On the floor, dripping up the stairs, and
now on the sidewalk, too. Always red.
"Uh oh," Hailey murmured, holding up her color-stained hand for her parents to
survey. "I think he was wrong. M&M's do melt in your hands."
It was funny how his distaste for, almost fear of, the color never transferred
over to anything else. Sydney had looked stunning in the crimson dress she had worn to
the office Christmas party last year; he didn't mind the boys' red overalls or
Hailey's doll with the flaming red hair. It was only the candy, only this candy.
It was probably childish and definitely strange, but there it was. There was no
way to change it.
"They're yummy," Hailey said, nodding avidly. "Try 'em."
Michael didn't move. It was Sydney who lifted Hailey into her car seat and
buckled her in. "I don't think Daddy likes those," she murmured before shutting
the door. Hailey nodded gravely, as if sorry that her father was missing out.
Of course they had never tried to explain it to the kids, probably never would.
Sydney still didn't knew exactly why
Michael was so adverse to the red ones, only the red ones. But she could guess.
And she would probably be right.
Michael was still frozen next to her, staring at the candies in his hand. And
although Sydney had just as much, if not more, reason to hate the red ones
as he did, without a word, she plucked them from his hand.
One, two, three, four. That's all it took and the red
was gone. She dropped them to the ground as if they burned her, taking a deep
breath as they clinked against the asphalt of the driveway.
The absence of red melted him, and making sure Hailey couldn't see, Michael
quickly overturned his hand and released the rest of the candy. He didn't think
he could stomach any of the colors tonight.
He glanced up and met Sydney's eyes, wanting to take her face in his hands and
pull it to him, longing to kiss her until he couldn't breathe, suddenly missing
the feel of her lips against his own more than anything in the world. But he
wasn't sure if she could handle that right now, feared doing anything that
would shatter her beyond repair.
So he settled for a tender kiss on her forehead, his lips lingering on her
skin. He would have whispered his thanks, but knew she wouldn't accept it. The
silence between them went unbroken as he quickly took her hand and squeezed it
before getting back into the car and driving his family, his entire family,
home.
~~~
Better?
Oh, and the M&M bit if anyone is confused… The short story is that the red ones remind Vaughn of blood. Sorry. This wasn't meant to follow the other ones as closely as it did…
But don't worry. One chapter left. The end is in sight (and already written, as Becky can attest to)…
