TITLE: Do you really want me?
AUTHOR: faith_in_Faith
E-MAIL: faith_in_Faith@hotmail.com
DISCLAIMER: I don't own anything related to Third watch...
RATING: PG-13
SPOILERS: Up to and including season five, and my story "All that glitters is not gold"
AUTHOR'S NOTE: Long time since the last update I know...and I'm sorry, but I couldn't get it right, so this time thanks goes to Joey for correcting this for me, and to Bee and Joey for helping me to figuring it out. : ) To all my reviewers: Thanks for your patience and support! And I'm sorry the Lady I can't promise there will be no more tears...Well, now on to the story ; )
CHAPTER NINE
I sit down on one of the kitchen chairs and close my eyes. I'm tired, and both my neck and back hurt like hell. I've spent the whole afternoon making lasagna. Not so smart, I know. My body isn't ready for that kind of effort yet. Standing for long periods of time is what tires me most, but I have to keep myself busy in order to keep my sanity. I open my eyes and glance at the clock on the kitchen wall. It's almost time for Fred to come home, and still no word from Emily. Charlie came home an hour ago - happy and pleased with his life, the way only innocent kids can be, and I couldn't help but wonder if Bos ever had the chance to feel that kind of innocence.
I hear someone unlocks the door, and then Fred's voice calling, "Hello, anybody home?"
"In the kitchen," I answer cheerfully.
After a few moments he enters the kitchen, and sniffs the air. "Mmm smells good. Is it lasagna?"
I nod.
His smile widens to a grin, "I guess Emily is in a good mood if she made lasagna, huh?"
"It wasn't her, it was me."
"You?" he asks with surprise in his voice.
I nod again.
He gets a closer look at me. "You think that's wise? You look tired."
I smile faintly. "I need do everyday things, Fred – like I used to. I can't just sit in the apartment all day doing nothing. It drives me nuts. I wanna get better, and Emily has been doing almost every dinner for months now."
"I know," he answers and looks lovingly at me. "I just don't want you to over do it. There's no rush."
"I know," I answer, "but I need to feel normal again."
He nods his understanding and asks, "So, where's Em anyway?"
"She went shopping with some friends. She should be back any minute now," I answer. My heart is beating hard in my chest, and my mouth is dry as a desert out of nervousness. Emily needs to come and rescue me very soon because soon enough, Fred will notice how nervous I am.
Fred frowns, "Shouldn't she be home by now? She has homework and she knows we usually have dinner around this time."
"Well, like I said, she should be home any minute now. She knows better than to push it."
His frown turns into a smile as he says, "You're right." He then starts to make the table.
A few minutes later, Emily unlocks the door and walks into the apartment. Fred smiles at me and whispers, "You were right."
I mange to smile back, although I'm so nervous I almost feel sick. Soon enough Emily enters the kitchen. I immediately look up at her. I keep my hands tightly folded together to hide the fact that they are shaking. The shaken look on her face, and the fear in her eyes tells me that he's very, very sick. My chest tightens, and all I want to do is cry.
The fact that neither of us utters one word alerts Fred. He turns around, looks inquiring at Emily, and asks worriedly, "Em, honey, what's wrong?"
Emily shrugs, and gives him a small smile. "It wasn't as fun as I thought it would be – that's all."
"Why? Did something happen?" Fred coxes gently.
"No, we just...didn't get along," she answers quietly, and I can tell she's too shaken to be able to put up this act for much longer.
Fred frowns, "No? What's the problem?"
Emily looks pleadingly at me for help. I look back fondly and ask, "Was it about that boy again?"
A look of relief crosses Emily's face as she answers, "Yeah."
Fred looks at her and asks, bewilderedly, "What boy?"
"Fred, just let it go," I say softly.
"But..."
I give him an 'I'll handle this' look, and ask Emily, "Wanna talk about it?"
Emily nods.
"OK, let's eat dinner and then we talk."
"OK, sounds great," she replies with a relieved smile.
Fred raises his eyebrows and smiles, "So it's a girl thing, huh?"
"No offence, Dad, but I rather talk with Mom about this."
He smiles fondly at her. "Sure, honey. It's a girl thing, I can handle that."
Emily holds my gaze, and I can see my own feelings of guilt mirrored in her eyes. Neither of us wants to fool Fred like this, but we both know we have no other choice. The dinner is a quiet one – pretty uncommon in this household. I'm so nervous I can barely eat, and Emily looks like she's lost in another world. The only one who's chatting is Charlie. He – on the other hand – is thrilled about the attention. When we're ready, Emily quietly offers to clean the kitchen. I firmly declare that I need to go and lay down because my back hurts.
Fred looks worriedly at me and almost accusingly, says, "I told you you'd overdue it."
"I'm sorry. I'll try to be more careful next time," I answer, and I can't keep the annoyance out of my voice.
He kisses my forehead. "Good, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to sound harsh. I'm just worried."
"I know," I reply, and smile faintly at him before leaving the kitchen.
******************
I keep my eyes on the door the whole time, as I wait for Emily to get ready in the kitchen. When she finally enters the room, the look of fear and despair in her eyes overwhelms me to the point where I momentarily forget about Bos, and focus all my worries on her instead. "You OK, Em?"
"Yeah, I'm fine," she answers, giving me a tiny smile.
"You sure?" I ask worriedly.
She nods, and replies shakily, "But Bosco isn't."
Both her tone of voice and the look in her eyes tell me that she's anything but OK. Whatever she saw at the hospital has shaken her to the bone. For a few moments, we just look at each other, and suddenly I realize that she isn't just afraid for Bosco's sake - she's afraid for my well being as well. She's terrified that I'll break down completely when she tells me about his condition, and that realization makes me feel like an idiot.
How could I've been so stupid that I actually thought that driving Bos away would solve anything? Ever since I first saw him, I've been addicted to his presence. I need to have him around in order to survive and stay sane. How could I ever believe that would change overnight because I told myself it would? I may have had the best intentions, but I should have realized that this wasn't the way to save my marriage. You can't save something that's already beyond saving... The only thing I've managed to accomplish is more suffering - for all of us. But most of all for the two of the people in my life that I love the most - Emily and Bosco, they're both suffering right now because of my weakness and stupidity. Bosco, because I failed to see that he truly needs me. Emily, because I've been such an emotional wreck lately that I've put the mess that is my life on her shoulders, somehow expecting her to fix it. I realize that it's time for me to put my shit together and start acting like myself again - the one that holds everyone and everything together.
I sit up in bed and put my arm around Emily's shoulders for support, as I ask, "Was it scary?"
She nods again, and looks unhappily at me, "Oh, Mom, he's so sick. He was just lying there in bed and he looked so small and...fragile."
"I know," I murmur soothingly, and remember all the times I've been thinking the same thing when I saw him injured. Something about the hospital atmosphere takes all his toughness away.
"He was hooked up to a heart-monitor and there was an IV, and he had some kind of tube in his nose. It looked so uncomfortable, and I don't know why it had to be in there, but there was a bag in the end, so maybe they want to see how much he's bleeding?"
She looks at me for confirmation, and I nod. She's probably right. "Was he in pain?" I can't help but ask. I need to know exactly how much he's suffering.
"Not when I first came in, but later – when we'd talked for awhile - he started to look even sicker, and when the nurse came with his antibiotics, he told her that he was," she whispers in a pained voice, as if she could actually feel his pain herself. "And she checked his temperature and stuff, and told him his fever was rising, and that probably was the reason why he didn't feel so good."
"He has a fever, too?" I ask worriedly, because although I don't know much about bleeding ulcers, running a fever doesn't sound like it would fit.
"Yeah, but the nurse didn't seem concern about it, and when I asked her if it was dangerous, she said I shouldn't worry. They were giving him medication that would make him well again in no time," she answers, but she doesn't seem convinced about it at all.
"You don't believe her?" I ask carefully.
She looks at me with tears in her eyes, "I don't know... he was very pale and tired the whole time. Just talking to me exhausted him. Oh, Mom, what if he dies?" she chokes out between sobs.
My feelings of guilt increase. Poor kid, she really shouldn't have had to go through that. I can't believe how selfish I've been acting lately. At the same time, I feel scared. What if he actually dies? No, it can't happen. I won't let it.
I stroke her hair and whisper soothingly, "He won't die, Em. The nurse wouldn't lie about something as important as that, and he's tough - you know that. It takes a lot more than a bleeding ulcer to kill him."
She pulls away from me, and looks at me, her eyes bright with tears. "You think so? But you heard Sully. He said Bosco wouldn't make it in the long run if you didn't help him."
"I know so, because I won't let happen, OK? I'll help him, Emily. I promise. I just need a little time to sort things out with your father. I'm sure he'll be fine eventually," I reply firmly, hoping for the sake of all of us that I'm not lying. "How about you tell me what you two talked about?"
She dries her tears, takes a deep breath and smiles faintly. "Well, I came there and he said hi, and asked what was wrong since I was there. I said nothing was wrong, that I only wanted to check on him, and then he seemed to get pissed."
"Because nothing was wrong?" I ask in disbelief.
"No, I think he was pissed because I knew - because someone had told us."
I nod in response and swallow hard. So maybe I was wrong. Maybe he doesn't need me after all... but I know he does. He was probably just angry because he didn't want us to worry about him. I know he's always felt the need to protect me, and hopefully that hasn't changed. Actually, it could very well be the reason why he stayed away when I'd told him to do so. His feelings of guilt make him think I'm safer without him.
"Then I told him I was behaving, and that he didn't have to worry about me. He replied that I'd better behave, because if I gave you any trouble whatsoever, he was gonna kick my ass - even if it was the last thing he'd ever do."
I can't help but smile because it definitely sounds like something he'd say, and that's a very good thing. If he acts like his usual self, then he will be OK.
As if she could read my mind her next reply is, "That's a good thing, isn't it?"
Still smiling, I answer, "Yeah, it sure is." Then I give her shoulders a light squeeze to encourage her to go on, and ask, "Then what happened?"
"He told me not to worry - that the ulcer wasn't bleeding anymore and that he was just fine. I told him you would be happy to hear that because you were very worried about him."
"You did?" I ask somewhat terrified that she told him. What if he doesn't care? What if the fact that I still care, disgusts him?
She looks nervously at me. "Yeah, I did. Was that wrong?"
I shake my head. "No, no, Em. It's just fine."
"He didn't seem to believe me anyway, so I gave him your card."
I'm so nervous I almost can't breathe. This is the moment of truth. Her next statement is going to tell me whether he cares about me and needs me, or if he just doesn't give a damn anymore. "So, what did he say?" I ask shakily
She smiles warmly at me. "He didn't say a thing, but he got very happy. I actually think he cried, but he didn't show me his face, so I don't know for sure."
"Really?" I reply in amazement.
Her smile widens, "Yeah, really. He misses you, Mom – a lot. He really does."
I feel my eyes tear up. I can't believe it's true. After the way I've treated him, he still cares about me. I still mean something to him. It's like a miracle.
"Mom?" Emily asks gently.
I quickly wipe away my tears and try to compose myself. "That's great, Em. Thanks. Did he say anything else?"
She shakes her head, and her expression changes to worry again, "No, then he starting to feel worse, and the nurse came and told me I had to leave because he needed to rest, but just before I left he told me to behave, and then he asked me to tell you something."
"Yeah? What?"
"He said, 'Tell your Mom, I won't.'"
"Were those his exact words?" I ask, feeling hope rising inside.
She nods firmly. "Yeah they were. I knew it was important, so I memorized them exactly," she states proudly. "What does that mean?"
I smile fondly at her. "It means that everything is gonna be just fine."
She looks at me with a mix of hope and disbelief, "Really? For sure?"
"Yeah, for sure," I answer firmly, and pull her into a hug.
We sit in comfortable silence for a while, but suddenly, she pulls away and looks nervously at me, "There's one more thing I need to tell you."
"What, Em?"
She looks up at me, and says nervously, "Please, don't get mad, OK? I really had no choice."
I feel my stomach tighten again. Now what? What has she done now? How could she get in trouble just by visiting someone in the hospital? I thought Bos was the only one who could manage to accomplish such a thing.
"Just tell me, and I promise not to judge you, OK?" I answer calmly.
She avoids my gaze and whispers, "I told the nurses I was his daughter."
"You did what?" I exclaim in disbelief.
"I'm sorry. I knew you would be angry, but I didn't know what else to do. They said I could only see him if I was family because he needed to rest, and we really needed to see him, right?"
I sigh. I can't really blame her for this. This is what you get when you force your kids to take care of your own mess. I caress her hair, and say, "Yes, Em, we did, but claiming you were his daughter wasn't so smart. What if his mother comes to visit and someone tells her that her granddaughter has been there - or if he gets worse and they try to find you?"
She looks at me with a mix of shame and cheekiness in her eyes, "They don't need to look for me. I gave them my cell phone number."
I stare at her in alarm, "You did?"
"Yeah, I did. We do want to know if he gets worse, don't we?" she replies defensively, in a typical Bosco way.
I rub my forehead tiredly. God, what a mess! If I didn't know better, I would actually think it is true - that she is his daughter - because her behaviour really reminds me of him. Act first; think about the consequences later – when it's already too late. But just as it usually is with Bos, her intentions are good, and I can't be mad.
"Yeah, we do, but you're not his daughter, and if someone finds out you will be in trouble. We will all be in trouble, and you father is gonna be furious, and what do you think Bosco would say if he knew? I don't think he would appreciate you lying about something like that."
"He thought it was funny," she murmurs.
"He did? He actually knows about this? You told him?"
She blush slightly, "No, but the nurse told him his daughter was there to see him."
"And he didn't deny you were?"
She shakes her head, "No, he played along the whole time. I told you he thought it was funny. He said it was no wonder Dad was pissed with him."
I just shake my head tiredly. Bos is such a kid. I wonder if we'll ever grow up.
"You two really are completely insane." I reply, but I can't help but smile.
She smiles shyly at me, "I'm sorry, Mom, but I didn't know what else to do."
I pull her into another hug and whisper, "It's OK. There's nothing we can do about it now anyway, and I shouldn't have let you go and visit him alone. I'm as much to blame as you are. Let's just hope no one finds out."
She pulls away and nods before saying, "I better go and do my homework."
I nod, "You do that. Thank you very much for doing this for me."
She smiles fondly at me and replies; "You're welcome! Just promise me you'll fix things with him real soon, OK?"
"I promise," I reply firmly, and follow her with my gaze as she leaves. She really is an amazing kid, and I'm very proud of her.
*****************
Once Emily has left, I close my eyes and start thinking. What she said, tells me three things: First of all, he's very, very sick. It takes a lot for Bos to admit to anyone that he's actually in pain, and that really concerns me. I'm not scared anymore though, because the other things she said tells me he's not giving up. He still acts like his old self - at least partly - and I know that's a good sign. Secondly, my attempt to drive him away has failed. He still cares about me, and wants to protect me, and finally, he needs me - almost as much as I need him.
I'm not going to overestimate my influence on Bos. I'm well aware that his whole life doesn't revolve around me, but I'm sure now, that he needs me the same way I need him - except for the love part. He needs me in order to deal with the ugliness of life, and to help him deal with his problems. I'm probably the only one he trusts because trust isn't something that comes easily to him. I'm probably also pretty much the only one, who cares about him - except for his mother, but she's often at the root of his problems - and I just left. Poor Bos, no wonder he has a bleeding ulcer - but this is all going to change now. I'm coming back to him, with no intention to leave his side ever again - no matter what. We need each other in order to survive. It's as simple as that.
I know what to do now. I'm going back to work – as soon as possible, and as his partner. It's the easiest way to show him that I care about him, and - maybe even more importantly – still trust him. The love part I'll have to hide again, but it's a small price to pay for my sanity, and his life. Right now, he needs me to be there for him, and help him out - not dump more problems on him. He needs to know that everything is OK - that I don't hate him, and that I don't blame him for this mess. He needs some peace of mind, and I'm going to give it to him.
Tomorrow, I'm going to call my physical therapist and ask her to increase my therapy. Tomorrow I'm going to tell Fred I'm going back to work – as Bosco's partner. Somehow, I know that's going to be the beginning of the end of my marriage. The fact that that doesn't make me feel even half as guilty and depressed as when I decided to try to drive Bosco away, makes me feel like a really bad wife and mother. But I'm going to face it now, rather than later, because Bosco needs me. Trying to save something that couldn't be saved in the first place will do no good. I feel bad for Fred, though. He really doesn't deserve this, but I know now that there's no other way to go. I've already tried it, and it didn't work.
AUTHOR: faith_in_Faith
E-MAIL: faith_in_Faith@hotmail.com
DISCLAIMER: I don't own anything related to Third watch...
RATING: PG-13
SPOILERS: Up to and including season five, and my story "All that glitters is not gold"
AUTHOR'S NOTE: Long time since the last update I know...and I'm sorry, but I couldn't get it right, so this time thanks goes to Joey for correcting this for me, and to Bee and Joey for helping me to figuring it out. : ) To all my reviewers: Thanks for your patience and support! And I'm sorry the Lady I can't promise there will be no more tears...Well, now on to the story ; )
CHAPTER NINE
I sit down on one of the kitchen chairs and close my eyes. I'm tired, and both my neck and back hurt like hell. I've spent the whole afternoon making lasagna. Not so smart, I know. My body isn't ready for that kind of effort yet. Standing for long periods of time is what tires me most, but I have to keep myself busy in order to keep my sanity. I open my eyes and glance at the clock on the kitchen wall. It's almost time for Fred to come home, and still no word from Emily. Charlie came home an hour ago - happy and pleased with his life, the way only innocent kids can be, and I couldn't help but wonder if Bos ever had the chance to feel that kind of innocence.
I hear someone unlocks the door, and then Fred's voice calling, "Hello, anybody home?"
"In the kitchen," I answer cheerfully.
After a few moments he enters the kitchen, and sniffs the air. "Mmm smells good. Is it lasagna?"
I nod.
His smile widens to a grin, "I guess Emily is in a good mood if she made lasagna, huh?"
"It wasn't her, it was me."
"You?" he asks with surprise in his voice.
I nod again.
He gets a closer look at me. "You think that's wise? You look tired."
I smile faintly. "I need do everyday things, Fred – like I used to. I can't just sit in the apartment all day doing nothing. It drives me nuts. I wanna get better, and Emily has been doing almost every dinner for months now."
"I know," he answers and looks lovingly at me. "I just don't want you to over do it. There's no rush."
"I know," I answer, "but I need to feel normal again."
He nods his understanding and asks, "So, where's Em anyway?"
"She went shopping with some friends. She should be back any minute now," I answer. My heart is beating hard in my chest, and my mouth is dry as a desert out of nervousness. Emily needs to come and rescue me very soon because soon enough, Fred will notice how nervous I am.
Fred frowns, "Shouldn't she be home by now? She has homework and she knows we usually have dinner around this time."
"Well, like I said, she should be home any minute now. She knows better than to push it."
His frown turns into a smile as he says, "You're right." He then starts to make the table.
A few minutes later, Emily unlocks the door and walks into the apartment. Fred smiles at me and whispers, "You were right."
I mange to smile back, although I'm so nervous I almost feel sick. Soon enough Emily enters the kitchen. I immediately look up at her. I keep my hands tightly folded together to hide the fact that they are shaking. The shaken look on her face, and the fear in her eyes tells me that he's very, very sick. My chest tightens, and all I want to do is cry.
The fact that neither of us utters one word alerts Fred. He turns around, looks inquiring at Emily, and asks worriedly, "Em, honey, what's wrong?"
Emily shrugs, and gives him a small smile. "It wasn't as fun as I thought it would be – that's all."
"Why? Did something happen?" Fred coxes gently.
"No, we just...didn't get along," she answers quietly, and I can tell she's too shaken to be able to put up this act for much longer.
Fred frowns, "No? What's the problem?"
Emily looks pleadingly at me for help. I look back fondly and ask, "Was it about that boy again?"
A look of relief crosses Emily's face as she answers, "Yeah."
Fred looks at her and asks, bewilderedly, "What boy?"
"Fred, just let it go," I say softly.
"But..."
I give him an 'I'll handle this' look, and ask Emily, "Wanna talk about it?"
Emily nods.
"OK, let's eat dinner and then we talk."
"OK, sounds great," she replies with a relieved smile.
Fred raises his eyebrows and smiles, "So it's a girl thing, huh?"
"No offence, Dad, but I rather talk with Mom about this."
He smiles fondly at her. "Sure, honey. It's a girl thing, I can handle that."
Emily holds my gaze, and I can see my own feelings of guilt mirrored in her eyes. Neither of us wants to fool Fred like this, but we both know we have no other choice. The dinner is a quiet one – pretty uncommon in this household. I'm so nervous I can barely eat, and Emily looks like she's lost in another world. The only one who's chatting is Charlie. He – on the other hand – is thrilled about the attention. When we're ready, Emily quietly offers to clean the kitchen. I firmly declare that I need to go and lay down because my back hurts.
Fred looks worriedly at me and almost accusingly, says, "I told you you'd overdue it."
"I'm sorry. I'll try to be more careful next time," I answer, and I can't keep the annoyance out of my voice.
He kisses my forehead. "Good, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to sound harsh. I'm just worried."
"I know," I reply, and smile faintly at him before leaving the kitchen.
******************
I keep my eyes on the door the whole time, as I wait for Emily to get ready in the kitchen. When she finally enters the room, the look of fear and despair in her eyes overwhelms me to the point where I momentarily forget about Bos, and focus all my worries on her instead. "You OK, Em?"
"Yeah, I'm fine," she answers, giving me a tiny smile.
"You sure?" I ask worriedly.
She nods, and replies shakily, "But Bosco isn't."
Both her tone of voice and the look in her eyes tell me that she's anything but OK. Whatever she saw at the hospital has shaken her to the bone. For a few moments, we just look at each other, and suddenly I realize that she isn't just afraid for Bosco's sake - she's afraid for my well being as well. She's terrified that I'll break down completely when she tells me about his condition, and that realization makes me feel like an idiot.
How could I've been so stupid that I actually thought that driving Bos away would solve anything? Ever since I first saw him, I've been addicted to his presence. I need to have him around in order to survive and stay sane. How could I ever believe that would change overnight because I told myself it would? I may have had the best intentions, but I should have realized that this wasn't the way to save my marriage. You can't save something that's already beyond saving... The only thing I've managed to accomplish is more suffering - for all of us. But most of all for the two of the people in my life that I love the most - Emily and Bosco, they're both suffering right now because of my weakness and stupidity. Bosco, because I failed to see that he truly needs me. Emily, because I've been such an emotional wreck lately that I've put the mess that is my life on her shoulders, somehow expecting her to fix it. I realize that it's time for me to put my shit together and start acting like myself again - the one that holds everyone and everything together.
I sit up in bed and put my arm around Emily's shoulders for support, as I ask, "Was it scary?"
She nods again, and looks unhappily at me, "Oh, Mom, he's so sick. He was just lying there in bed and he looked so small and...fragile."
"I know," I murmur soothingly, and remember all the times I've been thinking the same thing when I saw him injured. Something about the hospital atmosphere takes all his toughness away.
"He was hooked up to a heart-monitor and there was an IV, and he had some kind of tube in his nose. It looked so uncomfortable, and I don't know why it had to be in there, but there was a bag in the end, so maybe they want to see how much he's bleeding?"
She looks at me for confirmation, and I nod. She's probably right. "Was he in pain?" I can't help but ask. I need to know exactly how much he's suffering.
"Not when I first came in, but later – when we'd talked for awhile - he started to look even sicker, and when the nurse came with his antibiotics, he told her that he was," she whispers in a pained voice, as if she could actually feel his pain herself. "And she checked his temperature and stuff, and told him his fever was rising, and that probably was the reason why he didn't feel so good."
"He has a fever, too?" I ask worriedly, because although I don't know much about bleeding ulcers, running a fever doesn't sound like it would fit.
"Yeah, but the nurse didn't seem concern about it, and when I asked her if it was dangerous, she said I shouldn't worry. They were giving him medication that would make him well again in no time," she answers, but she doesn't seem convinced about it at all.
"You don't believe her?" I ask carefully.
She looks at me with tears in her eyes, "I don't know... he was very pale and tired the whole time. Just talking to me exhausted him. Oh, Mom, what if he dies?" she chokes out between sobs.
My feelings of guilt increase. Poor kid, she really shouldn't have had to go through that. I can't believe how selfish I've been acting lately. At the same time, I feel scared. What if he actually dies? No, it can't happen. I won't let it.
I stroke her hair and whisper soothingly, "He won't die, Em. The nurse wouldn't lie about something as important as that, and he's tough - you know that. It takes a lot more than a bleeding ulcer to kill him."
She pulls away from me, and looks at me, her eyes bright with tears. "You think so? But you heard Sully. He said Bosco wouldn't make it in the long run if you didn't help him."
"I know so, because I won't let happen, OK? I'll help him, Emily. I promise. I just need a little time to sort things out with your father. I'm sure he'll be fine eventually," I reply firmly, hoping for the sake of all of us that I'm not lying. "How about you tell me what you two talked about?"
She dries her tears, takes a deep breath and smiles faintly. "Well, I came there and he said hi, and asked what was wrong since I was there. I said nothing was wrong, that I only wanted to check on him, and then he seemed to get pissed."
"Because nothing was wrong?" I ask in disbelief.
"No, I think he was pissed because I knew - because someone had told us."
I nod in response and swallow hard. So maybe I was wrong. Maybe he doesn't need me after all... but I know he does. He was probably just angry because he didn't want us to worry about him. I know he's always felt the need to protect me, and hopefully that hasn't changed. Actually, it could very well be the reason why he stayed away when I'd told him to do so. His feelings of guilt make him think I'm safer without him.
"Then I told him I was behaving, and that he didn't have to worry about me. He replied that I'd better behave, because if I gave you any trouble whatsoever, he was gonna kick my ass - even if it was the last thing he'd ever do."
I can't help but smile because it definitely sounds like something he'd say, and that's a very good thing. If he acts like his usual self, then he will be OK.
As if she could read my mind her next reply is, "That's a good thing, isn't it?"
Still smiling, I answer, "Yeah, it sure is." Then I give her shoulders a light squeeze to encourage her to go on, and ask, "Then what happened?"
"He told me not to worry - that the ulcer wasn't bleeding anymore and that he was just fine. I told him you would be happy to hear that because you were very worried about him."
"You did?" I ask somewhat terrified that she told him. What if he doesn't care? What if the fact that I still care, disgusts him?
She looks nervously at me. "Yeah, I did. Was that wrong?"
I shake my head. "No, no, Em. It's just fine."
"He didn't seem to believe me anyway, so I gave him your card."
I'm so nervous I almost can't breathe. This is the moment of truth. Her next statement is going to tell me whether he cares about me and needs me, or if he just doesn't give a damn anymore. "So, what did he say?" I ask shakily
She smiles warmly at me. "He didn't say a thing, but he got very happy. I actually think he cried, but he didn't show me his face, so I don't know for sure."
"Really?" I reply in amazement.
Her smile widens, "Yeah, really. He misses you, Mom – a lot. He really does."
I feel my eyes tear up. I can't believe it's true. After the way I've treated him, he still cares about me. I still mean something to him. It's like a miracle.
"Mom?" Emily asks gently.
I quickly wipe away my tears and try to compose myself. "That's great, Em. Thanks. Did he say anything else?"
She shakes her head, and her expression changes to worry again, "No, then he starting to feel worse, and the nurse came and told me I had to leave because he needed to rest, but just before I left he told me to behave, and then he asked me to tell you something."
"Yeah? What?"
"He said, 'Tell your Mom, I won't.'"
"Were those his exact words?" I ask, feeling hope rising inside.
She nods firmly. "Yeah they were. I knew it was important, so I memorized them exactly," she states proudly. "What does that mean?"
I smile fondly at her. "It means that everything is gonna be just fine."
She looks at me with a mix of hope and disbelief, "Really? For sure?"
"Yeah, for sure," I answer firmly, and pull her into a hug.
We sit in comfortable silence for a while, but suddenly, she pulls away and looks nervously at me, "There's one more thing I need to tell you."
"What, Em?"
She looks up at me, and says nervously, "Please, don't get mad, OK? I really had no choice."
I feel my stomach tighten again. Now what? What has she done now? How could she get in trouble just by visiting someone in the hospital? I thought Bos was the only one who could manage to accomplish such a thing.
"Just tell me, and I promise not to judge you, OK?" I answer calmly.
She avoids my gaze and whispers, "I told the nurses I was his daughter."
"You did what?" I exclaim in disbelief.
"I'm sorry. I knew you would be angry, but I didn't know what else to do. They said I could only see him if I was family because he needed to rest, and we really needed to see him, right?"
I sigh. I can't really blame her for this. This is what you get when you force your kids to take care of your own mess. I caress her hair, and say, "Yes, Em, we did, but claiming you were his daughter wasn't so smart. What if his mother comes to visit and someone tells her that her granddaughter has been there - or if he gets worse and they try to find you?"
She looks at me with a mix of shame and cheekiness in her eyes, "They don't need to look for me. I gave them my cell phone number."
I stare at her in alarm, "You did?"
"Yeah, I did. We do want to know if he gets worse, don't we?" she replies defensively, in a typical Bosco way.
I rub my forehead tiredly. God, what a mess! If I didn't know better, I would actually think it is true - that she is his daughter - because her behaviour really reminds me of him. Act first; think about the consequences later – when it's already too late. But just as it usually is with Bos, her intentions are good, and I can't be mad.
"Yeah, we do, but you're not his daughter, and if someone finds out you will be in trouble. We will all be in trouble, and you father is gonna be furious, and what do you think Bosco would say if he knew? I don't think he would appreciate you lying about something like that."
"He thought it was funny," she murmurs.
"He did? He actually knows about this? You told him?"
She blush slightly, "No, but the nurse told him his daughter was there to see him."
"And he didn't deny you were?"
She shakes her head, "No, he played along the whole time. I told you he thought it was funny. He said it was no wonder Dad was pissed with him."
I just shake my head tiredly. Bos is such a kid. I wonder if we'll ever grow up.
"You two really are completely insane." I reply, but I can't help but smile.
She smiles shyly at me, "I'm sorry, Mom, but I didn't know what else to do."
I pull her into another hug and whisper, "It's OK. There's nothing we can do about it now anyway, and I shouldn't have let you go and visit him alone. I'm as much to blame as you are. Let's just hope no one finds out."
She pulls away and nods before saying, "I better go and do my homework."
I nod, "You do that. Thank you very much for doing this for me."
She smiles fondly at me and replies; "You're welcome! Just promise me you'll fix things with him real soon, OK?"
"I promise," I reply firmly, and follow her with my gaze as she leaves. She really is an amazing kid, and I'm very proud of her.
*****************
Once Emily has left, I close my eyes and start thinking. What she said, tells me three things: First of all, he's very, very sick. It takes a lot for Bos to admit to anyone that he's actually in pain, and that really concerns me. I'm not scared anymore though, because the other things she said tells me he's not giving up. He still acts like his old self - at least partly - and I know that's a good sign. Secondly, my attempt to drive him away has failed. He still cares about me, and wants to protect me, and finally, he needs me - almost as much as I need him.
I'm not going to overestimate my influence on Bos. I'm well aware that his whole life doesn't revolve around me, but I'm sure now, that he needs me the same way I need him - except for the love part. He needs me in order to deal with the ugliness of life, and to help him deal with his problems. I'm probably the only one he trusts because trust isn't something that comes easily to him. I'm probably also pretty much the only one, who cares about him - except for his mother, but she's often at the root of his problems - and I just left. Poor Bos, no wonder he has a bleeding ulcer - but this is all going to change now. I'm coming back to him, with no intention to leave his side ever again - no matter what. We need each other in order to survive. It's as simple as that.
I know what to do now. I'm going back to work – as soon as possible, and as his partner. It's the easiest way to show him that I care about him, and - maybe even more importantly – still trust him. The love part I'll have to hide again, but it's a small price to pay for my sanity, and his life. Right now, he needs me to be there for him, and help him out - not dump more problems on him. He needs to know that everything is OK - that I don't hate him, and that I don't blame him for this mess. He needs some peace of mind, and I'm going to give it to him.
Tomorrow, I'm going to call my physical therapist and ask her to increase my therapy. Tomorrow I'm going to tell Fred I'm going back to work – as Bosco's partner. Somehow, I know that's going to be the beginning of the end of my marriage. The fact that that doesn't make me feel even half as guilty and depressed as when I decided to try to drive Bosco away, makes me feel like a really bad wife and mother. But I'm going to face it now, rather than later, because Bosco needs me. Trying to save something that couldn't be saved in the first place will do no good. I feel bad for Fred, though. He really doesn't deserve this, but I know now that there's no other way to go. I've already tried it, and it didn't work.