Chap 4—Transitions
A few months after Luke's funeral, Mom and Dad divorced. I suppose Luke was the glue that held them together. Dad let Mom have the house and he moved into an apartment. He took me with him. I don't think Mom ever noticed. Or if she did, she didn't say anything.
Dad kept Luke's ashes as well. We were put in the back of Dad's closet; I declared myself the guardian. (Luke would have liked that.) I think the reason he didn't put us on the mantle was because he wanted us out of sight, so he could focus on what was ahead. We were never out of mind, however. There were times Dad would pull us out of there and cry. Until he found Luke's killer, nothing would make up for the guilt and blame Dad poured onto himself. I never blamed him for not finding Luke in time. Nor did I blame Mom (who did blame Dad) for not keeping a better eye on him. I blame whoever killed my best friend.
Dad *did* keep in touch with Agent Reyes, though. I suppose that was in part because despite all the other people telling him this wasn't his fault, she was only one he believed. Monica was a good friend to him, even after she moved back to New Orleans. (She never did tell us why she left so suddenly.) She visited us in New York, he went to New Orleans. And now, before you start jumping up and down yelling "Ooh! Ooh! They *did* do it!!", let me assure you that *that* did *not* happen. At least here in New York. (I was in permanent residence in the bedroom closet, remember.) Monica slept on the pull-out couch.
She sensed that Dad wasn't happy with his job, so when she suggested he join the FBI, he jumped at the chance. We moved to Washington, DC after he was accepted. Monica remained in Louisiana, but liked to joke that now she didn't have to travel as far.
So Dad became an FBI agent and excelled at it. Things died down (more or less) until the disappearance of one Fox Mulder.
A few months after Luke's funeral, Mom and Dad divorced. I suppose Luke was the glue that held them together. Dad let Mom have the house and he moved into an apartment. He took me with him. I don't think Mom ever noticed. Or if she did, she didn't say anything.
Dad kept Luke's ashes as well. We were put in the back of Dad's closet; I declared myself the guardian. (Luke would have liked that.) I think the reason he didn't put us on the mantle was because he wanted us out of sight, so he could focus on what was ahead. We were never out of mind, however. There were times Dad would pull us out of there and cry. Until he found Luke's killer, nothing would make up for the guilt and blame Dad poured onto himself. I never blamed him for not finding Luke in time. Nor did I blame Mom (who did blame Dad) for not keeping a better eye on him. I blame whoever killed my best friend.
Dad *did* keep in touch with Agent Reyes, though. I suppose that was in part because despite all the other people telling him this wasn't his fault, she was only one he believed. Monica was a good friend to him, even after she moved back to New Orleans. (She never did tell us why she left so suddenly.) She visited us in New York, he went to New Orleans. And now, before you start jumping up and down yelling "Ooh! Ooh! They *did* do it!!", let me assure you that *that* did *not* happen. At least here in New York. (I was in permanent residence in the bedroom closet, remember.) Monica slept on the pull-out couch.
She sensed that Dad wasn't happy with his job, so when she suggested he join the FBI, he jumped at the chance. We moved to Washington, DC after he was accepted. Monica remained in Louisiana, but liked to joke that now she didn't have to travel as far.
So Dad became an FBI agent and excelled at it. Things died down (more or less) until the disappearance of one Fox Mulder.