Challenge: #56-For old times sake...
Spoiler: Not a single one
Rating: Pg-13
MAJOR CUPCAKES ARE WARNED. YOU MAY NOT LIKE WHAT YOU READ
I didn't know he was leaving, until he was gone. That was the last I saw of him. It still burned sometimes, but it was better than it was before. A year ago, today, he left. Not only me, but the world. A loving family, parents, aunts, uncles, neices, nephews, cousins and the like.
And left me standing in the snow without a home.
"Babe, are you going to be ok?" Was Ranger's message.
I wasn't sure what I was. Part of me was angry. Part of me was hysterical. Part of me wanted a warm body.
I had no one else to be mad at but Joe. Why he was he that lonely? What had made him take his life, the way he had? What could have been so bad that it was worth his life? All were questions most of Trenton was searching for.
I held on to the phone, and my fingers hovered over the first digit of Ranger's phone number. Calling him felt like betraying Morelli, but not calling him made me feel like a loser, afraid of loss or commitment. Time slowly ticked away, and I curled up on my couch with an old blanket and listened to Rex run in the dark. Snow drifted from the sky, which was a pale rosy color, and onto the dirty streets below. It felt weird. There were over hundereds of billions of snowflakes falling, not one of them alike but all the same. Today I felt like the only acid green snowflake plummeting towards earth.
A tear rolled down my cheek. Damn, not now. I glanced at the clock. In about three hours, I would walk through Morelli's front door, and called his name to an empty house. I would climb the stairs, and see his body quietly resting on his bed.
The scene still brought nightmares to haunt me. I thought Joe was asleep, so I crawled into bed. It was only nine o'clock, but I figured he had just as bad of a day as I had. It didn't take me long to realize he wasn't breathing. I shook him, screamed his name, but no responce. His lips were turning blue. Clutched in his hand was a piece of paper.
"Sorry, Cupcake. I've done something horrible, and this is the only way to fix it. Please don't hate me, just move on. You can finally be Ranger's." The note said, in a scratchy handwriting that was unmistakenably Joe's.
But I really didn't want to be Ranger's. He was a great friend, but Joe had been too, until we started...dating. Ranger didn't do relationships either, and I was certain he didn't want to "deal" with me, the way Joe had so crudely put it in many of our fights.
The autopsy showed that Joe had overdosed on Advil, and it killed him. Slowly, and painfully, the doctor added. I didn't ever plan on marrying Joe, but I had wanted to see him grow old and see his kids get married. His kids, my kids, our kids. It was a scary thought.
"Our" kid hit hard. Two months after the death of Joseph Morelli, I began to feel ill. I stayed in bed and every time I even thought of eating, I threw up. It was like that for weeks, sometimes letting up for me to eat a meal and move around. I had worried the hell out of Ranger, who was now picking up pieces that Morelli had left. He stopped by one night, about the second week of my "sickness" and politely informed me that I was going to see a doctor, weither I liked it or not.
And in a few minutes flat, I went from having a nasty flu to having a fetus. At first, I didn't know what to do. What could I do? There was abortion, adoption, or I could single handedly raise this child. I scrathed "abortion" off my list quickly. This was Morelli blood, the last remaining portion of Joe. Killing it seemed like a crime. I had been set on adoption since day one. Ranger volunteered to help with the baby. It was a nice gesture, but he had his own problems.
Little Robert Joseph Plum entered the world, at just five pounds, eight ounces. Problems caused for him to come early by about a month and a half. Adoption was then scratched off the list. By miracle, he had gotten my eyes. The few wisps of hair went every which way. He had a smile that could even make a statue melt.
And Ranger refused to leave me. He stopped in every night, then again every morning. Using parinoid to describe Ranger just about covered it.
But even as I had a life that almost met Burg standards, I hadn't completely let go of Joe. But I was getting there. Thanksgiving weekend, Ranger, the new baby and I chanced a vacation. An escape from reality was more like it, but it had cheered me up a bit, and got me away from my mother, who was handing out advice like, "Don't hold him so tight," "He can eat more than that, he's a growing boy," "You're living with WHO?".
But tonight, I decided to go home. I needed a break from playing pretend. Pretending that life was perfect. I sat up and waddled into my bedroom and closed the door. I flopped down onto the bed, then stood back up again. Quietly, I picked the baby up from his playpen, and padded back into my sanctuary. I placed Robbie in the middle of my bed, and then curled up around him. Sleeping with him made it easier when he woke up. Still needing mommy, this worked out great.
He stirred, pushing my hand away with his. Sometimes I couldn't help but wonder who he would become. Would he be as arrogant as his father? Would he turn out like Ranger ,or even possibly Tank, both his surrogate dad? And sometimes it was simpler. Will he be tall? Will he play lost of sports? Would he play only one sport, and be really good at it? Would he not like sports at all and become a A student? Highly unlikely because neither me or Joe carred for school much, but he was still in the same gene pool as Valerie.
"For old times sake, I will be cupcake. Just tonight." I said out loud and snuggled the baby.
"'Night Cupcake." Ranger said from across the room, a sad humor in his vice.
"What's up?" I asked and tried to get out of bed.
"I missed you two." He said and crossed the room and peeled the sheets on the undisturbed side of the bed. "That's all."
I smiled and Robbie opened his little eyes. He stared at Ranger, unfocused and in awe as four-month olds often do. Ranger smiled and kissed the baby on the forehead. A tear rolled down my cheek. Not for Joe, but this time for the family he had left behind.
I was thinking to use something simmilar to this on my story but I like found another idea and tossed this one. Guess it came in handy after all. -Esentrik
