TITLE: Exact Change, Chapter Three
AUTHOR: The Little Cat
SPOILERS: Everything is fair game.
DISCLAIMER: I don't own them, but I have several pairs of boots, all the better to protect me from the EIGHT INCHES of snow dumped on Toronto last night. I thought it was over…it was melting so nicely….sniff
AUTHOR'S NOTES: I think I got a grip on my tenses, thanks for the heads up Angie. Mind you, it probably helps that I didn't drink before posting this chapter ;)
The flight to Dayton was quiet. She sat down, ignored the safety presentation, ignored the stewardesses, ignored the rubbery chicken, ignored the: "Welcome to Dayton, ladies and gentlemen….", ignored the shuffling at the luggage carousel, and ignored the cabbie who drove her to the car rental place. She arrived at the nursing home, where Victoria Garland waited for her.
"Hello Ms. Cregg. I'm so glad to finally meet you, even under these circumstances. Tal was so proud of you, he would sometimes speak of you in…"she stopped, embarrassed. CJ finished the sentence in her head. Lucid moments. When he actually remembered he had a daughter.
"Hello Victoria. It's nice to meet you. What needs to be done?"
Quick and to the point, CJ finished settling her father's account at the nursing home. She moved the boxes of her father's sparse belongings into her rental car, heading back towards the house.
Molly opened the door before CJ had a chance to knock. The two women looked at each other, aware of their differences. Aware of mistakes made, but mostly aware of the hurt. Molly reached out and embraced CJ. CJ stiffened momentarily before returning the hug awkwardly. They entered the house, closed the door.
The next hours were a blur. It was Wednesday, and the funeral was set for Friday morning. Dignified, a local funeral home. No flowers, no fanfare, Tal hadn't wanted it and CJ knew there was not enough flowers in the world to pay tribute to the man who had raised her. The house was clean, Molly had started boxing up clothes and books as soon as she had heard, CJ and her in agreement that most of Tal's possessions would be best put to use by being donated to local charities.
At 2am, CJ still had not eaten and certainly could not sleep. Her childhood room, transformed into a guest bedroom after she had left for college, could not offer her a sliver of the comfort it used to. She remembered spending hours, on the floor, in the closet, sheets spread everywhere, reading with a flashlight. Her parents would never know she was awake. But her father always had.
Waiting until her mother was asleep, he would sneak out of bed, knock on her door, and sneak in.
Claudia Jean, you need to sleep munchkin.
One more chapter, Daddy.
And he would always let her. And she would keep her promise, closing the book, turning off the flashlight, and crawling into bed as soon as the chapter drew to a close. Her father would kiss her on the nose, and say his goodnight.
Sweet dreams for Claudia Jean,
Sweeter still than jellybeans.
And she would giggle, close her eyes, and sleep.
She could not sleep now. She pulled herself out of bed, put on a pair of jeans and a sweatshirt, grabbed her purse, and quietly left the house. Getting into the car, she had little idea of where she might end up, but knew it when she saw it. Lou's all night diner, garish pink and blue neon, a throwback to the fifties that looked about as old and run down. The hours she had spent there in her high school years were staggering. Smoking, drinking coffee, chatting, flirting. She wondered if they still made the same grilled cheese.
She pulled in, parked the car. Lou himself had, in fact, existed, but had retired just before her high school graduation. She imagined him long gone, too many years pulling graveyard shifts and downing burgers.
She slid into a vinyl booth by the window. A tired, chubby waitress came over to her. Sisterhood through exhaustion.
"Coffee, please."
She could not bring herself to eat, even though she probably should. She stared at the chipping tabletop, decades of initials, hearts, and cigarette burns marring the surface. She looked around for her own initials, jumping when the waitress placed the coffee in front of her, shaking her head at the waitresses' tired inquiry: "Anything else?"
She added cream, sugar, and stirred the coffee with a dishwater-spotted spoon. Opening her purse, she fished out the pack of her father's cigarettes she had found in the freezer earlier that day. The cold, apparently, would keep them fresh.
She pulled one out, lit it, inhaled. Not too fresh, but it would do. She sipped her coffee, inhaled, blew smoke rings. Jumped at the voice behind her.
"I could do that, I just don't want to."
She turned around. He gestured for her to move over so he could sit beside her. She complied, and he slid into the booth and slid his arms around her in one movement.
"Toby." She hugged him.
"Hi." Arms tightening around her.
"I can't believe you're here."
"I was ordered to be by the President. It's only until Friday, but they said they could spare me for 48 hours." He took the cigarette from her hands. "You do remember what it took to get you to quit ten years ago?"
"Don't play with me Toby." She grabbed it back from him.
"Just making sure." He slid into the booth across from her to give her more space, but took her hand across the table. "How's Molly?"
"A wreck. Tomorrow is the lawyer's. Get those loose ends tied up."
"You should sleep."
"I can't"
He squeezed her hand. "What can I do?"
She looked up at him, cursing the tears welling in her eyes for the upteenth time that day. "You're here." She replied. "That's a good start."
