(11) Advice?
"Advice is what you ask for when you already know the answer but wish that you didn't." — Anonymous
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How could an angel break my heart
Why didn't he catch my falling star
I wish I didn't wish so hard
Maybe I wished our love apart
How could an angel break my heart (1)
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Ralph lay back on his bed and stared at the ceiling, arguing within himself. He was trying to decide whether or not to take his mother up on that "talking" offer. Talking was always good, right?
Except when it was not.
Hmm . . .
After a while, the teen took out a scrap piece of paper and pencil. Then he began to list out the pros and cons of each decision.
'Con,' he said to himself, hastily scrawling the word down. 'She's my mum! Enough said. Pro: Who cares? Con: It would be awkward trying to talk to her about my relationship problems . . . er, problem' he corrected desolately. 'Pro: She would be easier to talk to than my father would be. Con: Despite her offer, she's probably constantly kept busy with housework or something and shouldn't be bothered with my troubles. Pro: I'll never really know until I find out, and I'm sure that she'd put me—her only son—before an old chore any day.'
Ralph stopped for a moment to read over his list. Each con he listed was countered by a pro, so that pretty much put him back where he started from. Thinking hard, he listed more pros and cons.
'Con: I don't even know if she approves of my relationship—it might all just be a farce. Pro: Even if she doesn't, she would at least try to accept it, right? Con: Why would she want me to fix my problems with Jack when he lives so far away? It's not as if he will have an immediate affect on my life. Actually, he probably won't even have an affect at all if I can just get my closure. Pro: She's always encouraging me to face my problems rather than run away from them, so maybe she would try to help.'
A small smile appeared on Ralph's face now as he realized:
'Pro: She's always been there for me, through thick and thin, so why not now? Pro: She's had a lot more experiences with relationships (in her younger years) than I have. Pro: Maybe she'll have some sound advice that I can use. Pro: Even if she can't tell me anything, at least she promised to listen. Pro: Once she realizes how much my relationship with Jack really means to me, she'll stop trying to set me up with random girls who she just met through a friend of a friend of a friend. Pro: Not knowing what she'd say is driving me absolutely crazy!'
So, the pros outweighed the cons. So, the teen realized that the unknowing factor was the main part of the debate that prodded him. So, the list itself was pretty much useless to him since it was the "unknowing" that had decided the result. So, he decided to go downstairs and talk to Mrs. Macpherson about his troubles. So . . . he should probably use the loo before he did so.
This looked like it was going to be a long discussion on his part.
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Ralph found his mother in the living room, where she was curled up on the big, comfy couch.
'Hey, mum,' he greeted her.
'Oh, hello, dear,' she said, barely looking up from the thick book that she was reading.
'Erm . . . Can I talk to you for a bit?'
Mrs. Macpherson glanced up at her son. When she realized what their conversation would be about, she used her bookmark to indicate the page that she was on and gently set the book down on the coffee table in front of her, along with her wire reading glasses.
'All right. Come here,' she said, patting the seat beside her.
Ralph obeyed and sat down beside his mother.
'So,' she said.
'So,' he said.
She smiled.
'Um . . . This is going to be difficult to talk about,' Ralph said sheepishly, rubbing at the back of his neck.
'That's all right,' Mrs. Macpherson replied patiently. 'We have the time, Ralph, dear, so you can take all the time that you need.'
'Uh . . . I kind of need advice.'
'About Jack?'
'Yeah. I don't know what I should do.'
Ralph's mother sighed.
'I am sorry to say that I cannot tell you what to do, son,' she said.
'I thought as much,' he responded glumly. He made to stand up, but she stopped him by placing a comforting hand on his knee.
'Every relationship is different, Ralph, which is why I cannot help you. But I do know this: your relationship with Jack is special.'
'Er . . . Thanks, mum, but that doesn't really help me much.'
'Doesn't it? You asked for my advice, Ralph, and that's all I can really tell you. Your relationship with Jack is special and different from anyone else's. You can't ask me for advice, or anyone else for that matter. It's up to you.' She sighed. 'People may have their suspicions, but only you know how you really feel about him. How do you feel about him, Ralph?'
The teen blushed crimson.
'I think that I lov . . . I care for him,' he finished lamely, changing his mind halfway through.
'And will your feelings for him be there no matter what? Or will they fade with the distance and time that passes? Do you care for him enough to want him back? Enough to try and work through your differences and be together?'
If possible, Ralph's face became redder.
'Okay, you don't have to actually tell me your answers,' Mrs. Macpherson responded, her smile widening. 'But those are the type of questions that you have to ask yourself, Ralph. Usually, the right path is the most difficult.' Suddenly, her smile vanished; in its place was a slight frown. 'And sometimes, you just have to let people go, and that's always hard.' She sighed. 'I don't know if I've been much help, dear. And I know that I contradicted myself at times, but that's just because this is such a tender and difficult subject to talk about, let alone experience.'
'More than you realize,' Ralph replied in a sort of daze.
'I know, dear. Jack is a special person to you, and I know that you're special to him as well, Ralph. I hope that everything will work out all right. I trust that you will make a good decision.'
Ralph vaguely noticed that his mother said "good decision" and not "right decision".
'So if I can put trust in you,' she continued, 'trust is something that you should be able to put in yourself as well, innit?'
'Yeah,' the teen agreed halfheartedly. 'Thanks for your advice, mum.' He kissed her lovingly on the cheek. Then he stood up and began to make his way back to his room. A quick glance over his shoulder revealed that his mother had retrieved her book once more to continue her previously interrupted reading, but he didn't have to look very closely to know that her eyes were not moving across the page.
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Mr. Macpherson was a constantly busy man. He was a workaholic, if you will. He knew that he had a problem, that he didn't spend enough time with his family, that he hardly knew his only son. However, he was always able to reason against such facts, convincing himself that all he did was for them.
He wanted them to be with him, which is why they were frequently moving. He wanted to show them wonderful places, which is why he sometimes hired a tour guide to take them around the city (sans him; by "them", he literally meant just them, for he was much too busy to join his wife and child). He wanted his son, Ralph, to attend only the best of schools, which is why he worked so hard to be able to afford the tuitions and such for the prestigious institutions.
What he didn't want was to be like a "regular" family, just an average run-of-the-mill unit with nothing that makes them extraordinary . . .
. . . And what he didn't know was that the one thing his family needed was just that.
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Mr. Macpherson arrived home late from work one night, only to be surprised to see his wife sitting on the couch with a book.
"Good," he thought. "She's relaxing. I'd loathe for her to tire herself out after having unpacked so many things without any help. I just can't believe that she wouldn't let me hire anyone! She can be so stubborn sometimes."
'Good evening, dear,' he said, calmly placing his suit jacket and briefcase on the nearby ottoman.
'Uh-huh,' she said without looking at him.
'Really into your book there, huh?' he teased.
'Uh-huh.'
Ralph's father smiled and sat down beside her.
'Do you mind if I sit here?'
'Uh-huh.'
Now he was slightly anxious.
'Are you all right?'
'Uh-huh.'
Mr. Macpherson sighed and rested his feet on the coffee table.
'No feet on the table, please,' his wife suddenly said.
He started; then grinned.
'Ah, so you are in there somewhere!' he exclaimed, planting a gentle kiss on her cheek.
'Uh-huh.'
He sighed again and returned his feet to the ground. It was apparent that she did not wish to speak with him at the present time . . . Then again, she was acting rather strangely. His wife appeared to be in some sort of daze, and he vaguely wondered why.
'Honey, are you sure that you are all right?' Mr. Macpherson asked again.
She nodded silently.
'Why do you ask?'
'Well, you're usually a quick reader, but not today—not really. Indeed, you've been staring at the same page since I arrived.'
Mrs. Macpherson finally glanced up at her husband.
'Maybe I'm just tired.'
'I doubt that.'
This time, it was her turn to sigh.
'How did you know?'
'I'm your husband. I know these things . . . Besides, I am also a successful businessman,' he said, puffing out his chest proudly. 'I have to pay attention to the little details.'
'Stop it, darling!' she laughed.
He laughed along with her, but it was not long before his expression became serious once more.
'So, what's wrong?'
'I'm worried,' she responded.
'Worried? Why? Is it our home? Do you not like it here? We've had this conversation before, dear.'
'I know, and the house is fine. It's just that . . .'
'Yes?'
'It's Ralph.'
'Ralph?' he inquired, slightly surprised. 'Why?'
'Well,' she said slowly, hesitantly, 'I don't really know if I have the right to tell you.'
'The right? The right? He's my son as well!'
'I know, but he told me some . . . things . . . in confidence. I would hate to break his trust.'
'Very well,' Mr. Macpherson relented, lovingly kissing her forehead. 'But I don't think that you should be worrying yourself over his problems, honey. He's old enough to deal with them himself now.'
'I know.'
'And just by being there you can support him.'
'I know.'
'But . . . would it make you feel any better if I had a talk with him?'
She looked up at him.
'Yes. I think that I would like that.'
'Okay. It's done.' Mr. Macpherson stood up and pressed one last kiss to her lips. 'I love you, darling.'
'And I love you as well, sweetheart.'
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Knock knock.
'Ralph?' the teen heard someone's muffled call from behind the door.
Ralph tiredly glanced at the door, but he did not reply.
'Ralph? Son, are you awake?' the voice asked.
Said teen sighed and rolled over. He knew that it was his father behind the door, although he was not precisely certain as to why; the former never did anything like that! However, in light of the most recent events, only one thing came to mind and he really did not wish to speak to him about that. Ralph yawned widely as his father knocked on the door once more. The former was so tired, but he could not sleep, and that incessant knocking was definitely helping . . . not.
Apparently taking his silence as, "No, I am not asleep", Ralph's father let himself into his son's room and turned on the light.
'Son? Ralph?' he inquired softly.
Ralph groaned and pulled his covers up over his head.
'Okay, so this probably wasn't the best time to come.'
'Really?' the teen replied sarcastically. 'Leave me alone. I'm trying to sleep.'
Suddenly, a memory flashed through Ralph's mind, one from a different time (obviously) and place . . .
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Flash! Boom! Bang!
'Daddy?' the young boy inquired softly.
The man snored loudly.
'Daddy?' the boy said again. This time, he tapped his father lightly on the shoulder.
The latter irritably turned away from the touch.
'Daddy, I'm scared,' the boy said, cowering away from the window.
Flash! Boom! Bang!
Outside, a thunderstorm was roaring. Lightning flashed across the sky. Flash! Thunder followed its mistress shortly after. Boom! And rain landed on the window in heavy sheets. Bang!
'Daddy!'
'What, Ralph?' the man finally replied, his voice hoarse from sleep.
'Can I sleep with you tonight?' the boy asked quietly.
'Go to your mother.'
'Don't you remember? She's out of town for the weekend. She's visiting a friend.'
The man groaned irritably and buried his head under the covers.
'Daddy? Can I stay with you? Daddy, please?' The little boy prodded his father's shoulder again.
'Leave me alone, Ralph,' the man said. 'I'm trying to sleep.'
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His father . . . Even when Ralph had been young, his father hadn't really been close to the stereotype of a "good" father. For years, Ralph had tried to reason with himself (in almost the same mannerisms as the latter) that his father showed his love for his family in different manners. He was always busy because he was trying so hard to earn a good living for his family. He had never physically or mentally abused his wife or son (except for his constant absences, which couldn't be helped). He tried to keep their family together, resulting in their constant moving.
Eventually, however, Ralph realized that his attempts to get closer to his father were in vain and he developed indifferent feelings towards the man whom he called his father. And indifference was much worse than hatred, for it revealed that the teen hardly acknowledged the elder man.
At the moment, however, Ralph couldn't help but acknowledge him, whether it was with irritation or anger or . . . earnest? Yes, earnest. Ralph really wanted advice and maybe, just maybe, his father would be able to help him.
'I know that you must be tired, sport,' the latter said, calling his son by his childhood nickname, 'but your mother said that there was something on your mind. You don't have to tell me what it is, but I'm here for you if you need me.'
'We both are,' Ralph's mother added, stepping into the room.
Ralph looked at his mother accusingly.
'Don't worry, sweetie, I didn't tell him,' she said.
'No, she didn't,' her husband agreed, seeming slightly disappointed, 'although I would appreciate it if you told me.' He sat down on the edge of the bed. 'I know that I'm not the best of fathers, and I really don't have an excuse for that. And I . . . Well, I have some time now. I promise to listen to you if you want me to.'
As if on cue, his beeper began to vibrate loudly, signaling that someone was trying to contact him.
'You better get that,' the teen said gloomily. Of course, that had just been another one of his father's empty promises. He was too busy of a man to pay any heed to his son, regardless of the fact that Ralph was his only child.
Then Ralph's eyes widened in surprise when he saw his father take out his beeper and simply shut it off.
When the latter saw the shocked expression on his son's face, he smiled and set said object on the nearby nightstand.
'I said that I would listen, didn't I?'
The teen realized that his father was serious . . . so he told him.
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An hour or so later, Ralph's parents emerged from their son's room with identical contemplative expressions on their faces. The latter closed the door behind them with a snap and followed her husband down the corridor.
'You have met this "Jack" fellow, right, dear?' the father asked.
'Yes, I have.'
'And . . . what do you think of him?'
His wife sighed and sadly glanced back at her son's closed bedroom door.
'Our meeting was brief, dear,' she replied. 'And my opinion makes little difference because he's special to Ralph.'
'Right. Ralph said that he had known Jack from that island disaster, when they and some others were all stranded all those years ago.'
'Much has changed since then—some for the better and some for the worst. When people spend so much time together at such a close, compact proximity,' she continued, 'they cannot help but realize certain . . . feelings.'
'But they were only young boys back then,' the man said. 'They are well past that stage in their life. They are men now. The kinds of emotions that they have would have to be different from back then.'
'Yes,' his wife agreed. 'It is difficult to know for certain, but perhaps in Ralph and Jack's circumstances, the feelings have always been there and have remained with them throughout their years apart..'
'Yes . . . feelings . . .' he said slowly. 'But didn't he say that they were enemies on the island?'
'He did,' his wife agreed. 'However, I do not believe that things have always been that way.'
'What do you mean, dear?' The man was obviously confused.
'I mean that I strongly suspect that they were friends at some point during their time on the island together.'
'Now that you mention it, an initial friendship between them seems to make sense,' Ralph's father said. 'After all, boys don't just make enemies on the spot, and Ralph has always been level-headed. He wouldn't simply mark a complete stranger as a potential enemy.'
'I wonder what happened,' the woman said thoughtfully. 'It must have been something dreadful, but Ralph appears to have forgiven Jack for . . . whatever it was.'
'Yeah . . .' her husband said slowly. 'I still find it rather surprising that Ralph is not interested in women. He's had girlfriends in the past, has he not?'
'It is not a matter of men or women. Ralph feels this way because it's Jack; it makes no difference to him what gender group his loved one is a part of,' the woman said wisely.
A comfortable silence passed between the two as they made their way downstairs to the living room.
'Is Jack good enough for Ralph?' Ralph's father finally asked, for the question had been bothering him for some time now . . . Well, at least ever since Ralph had told him what had happened.
'He seems like a good person, honey. And I believe that anyone—man or woman—is "good enough" for our son as long as he's happy.' She paused for a moment. 'But . . . if their separation is making Ralph unhappy, I don't want him to risk such unhappiness again by returning to Jack. It would be best for them to keep apart.'
'Yes. I, too, would prefer it if Ralph stays away from Jack and recovers from his apparent bout of depression. I just want him to be happy.'
The two adults did not realize the slightly slouched silhouette of their son standing hidden in the shadows, whom heard every word that had passed between them. However, only two "choice" phrases stood out in his mind:
"It would be best for them to keep apart," she said.
"I, too, would prefer it if Ralph stays away from Jack . . ." he said.
Neither of his parents wanted him to return to Jack.
"So what do I want?" he wondered.
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But there's no way
How can I replace
Love so strong
When I can't forget your face
Do you still remember me
How could you forget
You're everything I need
I'm out here on the ledge
There's no words for me to say
And too much to regret
You're where I should be
Do you remember when (2)
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(1) Mini-Disclaimer: "How Could An Angel Break My Heart?", Toni Braxton
(2) Mini-Disclaimer: "Remember Me", Marc Anthony. To me, this is such a depressing song, but it's still really good!
