Disclaimer: I don't own Third Watch or Blue Rodeo...again, I am using one of their early tunes, entitled "After the Rain". One of their best.
After the Rain - Chapter 37- A Little Piece of Heaven
If I had my way
I would never go back
With my back to the wall
I just let myself fall
watch the days turn black
but now and again I find
you cross my mind
if I was a train
I would never slow down
with my head in the sky
and the world going by
every nowhere town
as I write one more letter to you
I know I can't change the things that I do
One day
you will discover
just why I ran
ran away from you lover
I know I"m to blame
I feel so ashamed
call out your name
after the rain
what do you want me to do
I've thrown away everything for you
I've wasted my dreams
each day it seems
I'm losing my way back to you
It's time for a change
what else can I do
with the clock ticking time
better make up my mind
is it me or is it you
tonight as I'm losing control
I will drink to the queen of my soul
One day you will discover
just why I ran
ran away from you lover
I know I'm to blame
I call out your name
after the rain
After the rain is over you are left with a sense of cleanliness and freshness that I have always loved. My favorite time of day was after a good rain, when everything around you was squeaky clean and refreshed. It was as if the rain could wash away your sins and make you whole again.
Ever since I had moved in with Sasha I had felt a tremendous amount of guilt over what happened between Bosco and I. I had hurt him worse than anyone else ever had, an ironically, I was the one who was supposed to be protecting him.
I knew that I didn't deserve him and it was a good thing that I had left. This way, I couldn't hurt him anymore, or so I thought. I really believed that if I left and didn't try and talk to him or contact him that he would be able to move on and get past the horrible thing I had done. Getting pregnant by Jimmy wasn't the problem. It was that I didn't tell him right away and I had made him believe that he was the father. A million times I had thought about it, and cursed myself, knowing that if I had only told the truth, things would have been different.
And different they were. He no longer had my back. He wouldn't even look at me when we were in the same room. At first, I had thought about trying to speak to him, but he would never make eye contact and in the end, I just gave up. I don't think he ever saw me looking his way, but if he did he chose to ignore it. It was almost as if I didn't exist to him anymore.
Gone were the nights where he held me as I cried. Gone were the soothing words and understanding glances that only he could give. We communicated without words. We only had to look at each other to understand the way the other felt. I had never had that with anyone other than Bosco. And now he was gone.
Gone but not forgotten, in my books. Every thought that entered my head was directly related to him. I couldn't even watch tv or read a book or listen to the radio without the words somehow finding their way into my heart and my conscience. For the first week that I stayed with Sasha, I had cried every time a commercial came on about an engagement or a wedding. Anything having to do with love on any level made me turn into a basket case. It was within those first few days that Sasha learned about my pregnancy and she, in turn, told me about her abortion. I didn't agree with her decision, but I never said anything. I had said and done enough to hurt the people I cared about to last a lifetime. I wished that things had turned out differently.
Sasha and I became fast friends, each leaning on the other for support that only another female could understand. I knew she missed Ty and she loved him a lot, but she couldn't commit to a child. She cried over him ,too and in those two weeks we learned a lot about each other and we were both stronger because of it. He had moved out of their apartment as soon as she had the abortion and they had never spoken since. They were a lot like Bosco and I in the way that we still had to all work together and pretend that we didn't know one another. It was a hard time for all of us.
Then came the night when Bosco called me at four in the morning. Sasha was really ticked that he'd call that late, but she did get up and bring me the phone. I was sure that something had gone terribly wrong or that Bosco was really hurt. I knew as soon as I spoke to him that he was very drunk and upset.
I knew how big of a deal it was for him to call me and it knew that it had taken him drinking a lot of alcohol to be able to pick up that phone and let me know that he needed me. I was almost grateful for the fact that he had chosen to deal with it that way because it was a chance for me to see him again, even if he was going to tell me off. He needed closure and as much as it hurt me to know that he was going to be hurtful, I knew that I deserved it.
I loved him. It was simple and uncomplicated. I still loved him. Every part, every bone, every breath. He still had me and I would have rather died than given that up. I knew that it wasn't up to me anymore. I wanted him back and if he'd have me, I'd never hurt him again.
I hung up the phone that night feeling a little ray of hope peeking through the darkness. Everything else in my life be dammed. I was going to him and I was going to make him understand.
I had a secret that was burning at my heart. It made me lose sleep at night and it haunted my every waking moment. It was another one of the things I had could have told Bosco right away, but didn't. In my own defense, it was days after he had kicked me out and he wasn't talking to me, but I should have tried. Why was I always hurting him?
My Doctor had called me and told me that there had been a huge mistake in the calculation of my due date. At the time, I couldn't understand why he felt the need to tell me this, especially since I had already lost the baby and I was quite upset about it.
He proceeded to let me know, in the most apologetic way he could, that he had made a grave mistake. He had miscalculated the due date by almost a week. The news was shattering to me. I was outraged by the thought that all this was happening because of seven lousy days, albeit, days that concretely made one man a father and the other, nothing but a memory. Bosco had been the father of my child.
I had ripped out his heart and left him bleeding for nothing. I had broken him and twisted all of his emotions only to find out that it had all been a mistake. How was I supposed to tell him now?
Like every lesson we learn, we usually learn it the hard way. I should have run over to his house the minute I found out the information. I should have begged him to listen to me but I didn't. I knew the real problem was the fact that I hadn't told him the truth right away. He would never trust me again, I was sure of that. But he needed to know the truth about this child. He needed to know that it was his flesh and blood.
It was pouring rain as I made my way toward his apartment. The kind of rain that is always depicted in old movies, the kind where the man shows up and gets the woman he loves. Romantic rain, I always called it. 02I showed up at his house not twenty minutes after we had hung up. The door was unlocked and I opened it and came in. He was in the livingroom, sitting on the couch with his head in his hands, rocking back and forth. He was in a state that I had never seen before, even when Emily and Charlie had died. Now, he was just a mess.
He was wearing an old pair of gym pants that were cut into shorts with a blue tank top. At least he was comfortable, if nothing else. I knew he heard me come in, but he chose not to look at me.
I stood in the doorway surveying the scene around me. The place was a total mess. Dishes lying on the coffee table, littered with old napkins and lots of beer bottles. Some empty, some half full. Some even had cigarette butts in them. And I'd thought he'd quit smoking for good.
I walked over and sat down beside him. My heart was thumping so hard in my chest, I thought that it might very well come popping out and land on the table beside me. I pulled off my sweater and sat it on the couch beside me. He still didn't look up at me and I began to wonder if he had really wanted me here at all.
"Bosco...I'm here." I said reaching out to touch his arm. I stopped mid-way, not knowing if he wanted me to touch him or not and drew my hand back and set it on my lap.
He looked over at me. His eyes were bloodshot and his cheeks tear stained. I knew he was at the bottom of his proverbial barrel.
"Bos. Please talk to me. Are you ok?" I said softly.
"Do I look ok"?
"Do you want me to answer that?" I asked, lightheartedly.
He narrowed his eyes at me before speaking. "You think this is a joke?" He asked, irritated.
I shook my head. "NO. Not at all. I'm just....trying....I....don't know what you need me to do....please talk to me." I said lamely. I turned to face him, hoping he would see the sincerity in my face.
"Tell me what you need."
He swallowed and looked around the room before answering. "I need......I need......you to tell me why you did what you did. I can't move on. I can't stop thinking about it.......I can't.....I just.....can't.' He struggled to put into words what he was feeling. He ran his hands through his hair, frustrated with himself and most of all, me.
"Bosco, I tried to tell you before. I am so sorry. So sorry that I would do anything to make it up to you....please tell me what you need me to do." I begged.
He looked at me again with that same anger he had felt two weeks ago. " How could you lie to me? To me? I'm....was...your best friend and you ruined everything. You ruined everything that was important to me...and after everything I've done for you....how could you? You are....were everything to me, Faith. And now I know that I can't go back. I can't move on until I get some answers from you."
It hurt me to hear him correct himself. He had detached himself and didn't plan on letting me hurt him again. It killed me to know that I was the cause of so much pain.
I couldn't stop myself from crying. I stood up and began to pace around the room. For the first time since all of this had happened, I felt myself begin to get angry back at him. I had never had the chance to really talk to him about what had happened and it made me angry that he hadn't allowed me. I wasn't perfect and I wanted that time to be able to speak.
"You wouldn't let me talk to you. You were out drinking with Ty the night I found out. You didn't give me a chance to tell you how it happened. It's not an excuse...I know, but you wouldn't let me speak.....I was still upset and spinning from Emily and Charlie.....and you didn't even give me the chance to explain..you just threw me out without a second thought." I cried out, oblivious now to the fact that I wasn't really helping him at the moment. I wasn't ready to throw in the towel just yet. I wanted my turn to speak, to be heard. Even though I had come here to help him, I couldn't resist the need to help myself, too.
He opened his mouth to say something and I pointed at him. "Bosco, I love you and I will do anything to keep you in my life. Anything. But you need to know how much it hurt to have you throw me out like that! Did you really think that it was an easy thing for me to tell you?" I demanded.
I knew that it was probably the wrong way to go about the conversation, but I was starting to feel the need to let him know just how much he had hurt me, too. It wasn't helping the situation for me to be argumentative but he had to hear me out.
"Faith, you lied to me! How could you let me think that I was the father when I wasn't? Do you have any idea what that did to me? Any idea?" He yelled.
He didn't wait for me to answer. He stood up and faced me, his index finger poking into his chest for emphasis. "It killed me. Killed me to hear you say it. Killed me to know that you lied to me." He shouted.
Obviously, he had called me over to make me feel bad. And bad I felt.
"Bosco! Do you know how it killed me too? Do you know how sick I was inside? How much I wanted to tell you? But you were so excited, I didn't know how to tell you and....."
"Didn't know how to tell me? You could have tried telling me that Jimmy was the father instead of letting me think that....."
"Tell you? When, exactly, did you give me the chance?" I shouted back.
"When? When could you not tell me?"
"I was trying to find the words..."
"Well, you sure found them. Only, it was too late." He spit at me. His words like bullets. Ripping into my tender flesh, making their mark.
I bowed my head and closed my eyes. I had expected his anger. I knew I deserved every bit of it, and I knew that the whole point of my coming over was to let him vent. But that didn't mean that every word he spat at me didn't hurt just the same.
A thick silence engulfed us, each trying to find the words to let the other know just how hurt we were. The only sound in the whole apartment was the clock ticking on the wall. Tick, tick, tick, went the hands of time, reminding me that the worst part of this conversation was still to come. I listened to the sound of the rain pounding against the windows, like tears streaking down my broken heart.
He finally sat down on the couch and opened another beer. To my surprise he offered me a beer as well. I reached out and took it, grateful for the gesture. It meant something if he hadn't asked me to leave yet and I realized in that moment that he was letting me, without words, that he still needed me. He still missed me and I knew I had to take the opportunity to tell him what I had learned.
I sat down beside him and twisted the cap off and set it on the coffee table beside me. I took a long drink and then wiped my mouth with my sleeve.
"Bosco, I don't know how to say this, so I'm just gonna say it." I started.
He furrowed his brow and shot me a dirty look. "What now?"
I cleared my throat and took another drink. "The doctor called me a few days after I moved out and told me that he had my due date wrong. He said that he was wrong by a week." I said slowly, hoping the realization would sink in before I had to say the words out loud.
"So? What's that supposed to mean?"
"It means that it was your baby. He didn't calculate the days correctly."
"What?"
"It means..."
"It was mine?"
"Yes."
"It was mine? Mine and yours"? He croaked out. The corners of his mouth started to turn down again and he fought it with everything he had to keep it together.
"Yes."
"And you didn't tell me? Again, you didn't tell me".
It was a simple statement. He said it quietly, almost inaudibly, so I had to lean forward in order to hear him.
"You wouldn't talk to me. How could I talk to you when you wouldn't even look at me?" I cried.
"I can't do this."
"What? Can't do what?" I asked
"I can't do this anymore." He stated.
"Do what?"
"This...with you....I can't do this." He fought to keep the sobs from emanating through his body and failed. Alcohol usually didn't have this effect on him, but when he was emotionally broken he couldn't control it.
"Can't talk to me?"
"I can't deal with this. I can't.........It hurts too much, Faith. I'm so angry at you...but I can't live without you, either. I can't keep living like this and it's killing me. Make it stop...please just make it stop...make it stop" He begged.
"I know. I know. It will get better. I promise." I said, the tears welling up in my eyes to match his. I took a chance and held out my arms to him. He scooted over beside me and accepted my embrace.
We cried for a long time, me asking him to forgive me and him asking me to take his pain away. I don't know how long we stayed like that, but as the sun was coming up over New York City and the rain ceased, we fell asleep in each other's arms, both wondering the same thing; Could we move on after the rain?