Tomorrow Will Never Come

Today was a good day. It was Saturday and the sun was shining brightly. But that caused barely a fraction of the joy that Bobby started the day with. This was the first time in several years that he had been able to take his mother out on a picnic. While they weren't far from Carmel Ridge, it was a nice atmosphere, a nice change from the white walls of the institution. Frances enjoyed the bird song and the fresh air—her first trip outdoors since Ex-Judge Garret had sent hired help to pay his "respects."

Upon Bobby's expected arrival, Dr. Shimo smiled warmly. His mother was very well and had been for the past week. She had expressed interest in going outside and revisiting nature. Her had doctor agreed. So Bobby had taken her on a walk and they had stopped for lunch under a tree over looking a sprawling grassy field.

Bobby pulled the contents of their basket out and set up the meal. He looked up and saw the joy on his mother's face as she looked out over the sea of green that must have seemed so distant from her window. It was a joy that he so rarely saw, one that was contagious and spread through him every time he witnessed it. Smiling, he returned to his task. He grabbed carrots, bologna sandwiches, corn and juice—all kindly provided by Carmel Ridge.

Midway through setting the meal in order, a strange sense of déjà vu crept over him. He could only remember one other time he had prepared a meal like this. Several years ago he had been working a case with Detective Eames in which they found themselves preparing lunch for a young girl—Lucy Davenport. Then, it hadn't meant much. At that point in time, he was working more to keep their partnership alive than he was learning about her. They had only been paired for thirteen months, a record, but not one significant enough to quell his worries. Little had he known, his partner had already accepted his quirky ways.

But thinking back on it, he felt a strange sense of loss. That was very possibly the only time he would ever be able to prepare lunch for a child with her. Over the years, as his worries of abandonment started to fade, he began to feel an emotional connection for her. His partner, his friend, his Alex. He would never let her know, but often times he wanted to pick her up in his arms, spin around and thank the Lord that they had been placed together. He wanted to share his life with her, to do what normal people did when they loved another. Like any red-blooded American, he wanted a family, one he could enjoy the simple moments of life with—one he could share with Alex.

Sitting there, with a sandwich in his hand, he realized he had completely missed his once chance to remotely live that dream. And now, three years later, the pain came ripping though him. Alex would never be with him, not in marriage. They would never have a child. They would never make meals together or fall asleep in the same bed. No matter how connected they were, no matter how many sentences she let him finish, they could never be together forever.

The thought was so over bearing that he had to be broken from his reverie by his mother. "Robert? Robert, are you alright?" She knelt down and placed her arm across his shoulders. "Dear, you're crying! What's the matter?" The feeling was too locked up in his throat to explain, all he could do was hold onto his mother and cry. He shuddered and retched, the thought having permanently lodged in his mind.

God! He loved Alex, wanted her to be a part of his everything and there was no way he could tell his own mother, let alone the person he needed to tell. How could he have missed all the signs, the facts and little clues that he wanted her to be something more than a friend? That he wanted to spend every waking moment in her presence because she was the only one who made the different pieces of Robert Goren connect correctly? How was it that in the same moment he realized he was in love, he also realized he could never find love?

Life had played yet another cruel trick on him. When everything had been looking so positive, it had come crashing down and he didn't want to fight anymore—couldn't fight anymore. He had gone though so much already. Domestic violence, psychotic breaks, death, gambling, abandonment…it was all too much. Fighting it hadn't worked, running hadn't worked. So he just gave up and let his mother hold him while he wept.

Fin