CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE – THE HOMECOMING
Lara let go of Catcher's arm. And went to her pocket for the key. But it was not in there.
"That's weird." She said. Catcher cocked an eyebrow. And turned the knob. The door came open.
"Is that weird too?" He asked.
Lara stepped past him. Looking in.
"He's still here, I see."
The voice came from the kitchen. And it made Lara's hair stand up on the back of her neck.
"John?"
"Yes. It's me." The voice was cold. Distant. Sad.
"Go check on Agatha." Lara whispered to Catcher. Pushing him towards the stairs.
She walked in. And Catcher followed. Seeing John at the counter. Drinking out of the milk carton. The cow on it mooed. Milk dribbled down his chin. His lip was numb. His face was dead looking.
She didn't like it.
"He's wearing my sweatshirt…" there was hate in his words.
She turned. And looked at the sweatshirt. But didn't say anything. Her hand went down to her finger. Touching the splint.
"I didn't come here to yell at you." John said. Slowly.
"Then what did you come here for?" She asked. Not looking up from the ground.
"I came to apologize…" he gripped the carton. But didn't raise it. To his lips.
Lara stopped breathing. And her eyes slowly closed. "I'm not going to take any more of your apologies John."
He didn't move.
"I don't have enough energy left to take any more apologies."
Slowly. He closed the top of the carton. And let go.
Then turned.
His throat was bruised. There were tears in his eyes. His face looked heavy.
She felt her stomach knot. As he fell to his knees. Her arms reach out. To touch him.
"I've missed you Lara." John shed a tear. As he reached beneath her arms. Outstretched. And wrapped his own about her waist. Burying his head. Against her belly.
Her hand went to his head. Feeling his hair. His cheek against her stomach.
After a moment. He raised his head. And met her eyes. Coming back up to stand.
He looked at her for a long while. Before he leaned in. And kissed her.
At first. She kissed him back.
Then she noticed his smell. As it touched her nose. Wasn't the same as she remembered it. He didn't smell like John. It smelled rotten. And cold.
And her lips turned stiff.
After sucking what he wanted off her. He pulled away. Question in his eyes. Someone else's eyes.
She hated what he'd become.
Her voice came out cold. Stern. "I don't want to see you around here John. You have a sickness. And I don't want you around my daughter with it."
"You're right." John relented easily. "I do have a sickness. But you don't have to take my daughter away from me..." his words were pleading.
"I want you to go away." Her eyes were sad. But her words were firm.
He was silent for a moment. Sadness reflecting in his sunken eyes. Bleary eyes. Missing eyes.
"I have no where to go." He said. Quietly. Pathetically.
It was silent again.
For a long.
Long.
Time.
"You can have the couch." She broke.
Bitterness suddenly sprouted. As John's attention. Turned to Catcher. Who'd been standing there. The whole time. A shadow. "Where does dead boy sleep?"
"My room." She whispered.
His face became stricken. Distressed. His mouth fell open.
"With you?" He didn't believe.
"In the same bed?" Couldn't.
"Next to you?" Believe.
Each question he asked. Pushed him farther away. Then he ever wanted to be.
And brought Catcher. Ever closer.
She didn't mean to say it. "Sometimes Agatha's room."
Almost.
Turning her head away. Looking at Catcher's feet. His black boots. She knew that'd hit a nerve.
John's jaw hit the floor. His shoulders sank. His cheeks turned red. His forehead gray. His neck blue. His eyes black.
"You trust him with Agatha?" His hand came up. Stiff finger pointing. As if to fire a bullet. At Catcher's chest.
Catcher's hand tightened. On her shoulder.
"More than you." She breathed. "Yes." Looking up. At him.
His jaw shook. His eyes watered. And his knees bent. But he did not fall.
When his shaking body stopped. He looked up at her. His arms out. Palms up. Cupped. In repose. He looked pathetic. "More then me?...More than me...More than me?" His voice grew. Caught in his throat. Stuck in the bruise. Coarse to the ears.
Lara flinched. Catcher's hand tightened. While the other snaked around her waist. Pulling her in. Away from John. She put her own hand on it. Welcoming it.
And a fire lit in John's eyes. Before fogging over.
"I see then." His mouth quivered. As he rose to his feet.
Lara's eyes closed. And she sighed. As she watched John head for the couch. Then she turned. And whispered to Catcher. "Go check on Agatha."
He paused. An eye wary on John. Before he let his arms slide from her. And he moved towards the stairs. Went up. And disappeared.
Lara followed John into the living room. Watched him lay down on the couch. And curl up. Fetally. Tears came in her eyes. But she held them back. Going to the closet. Pulling out a blanket. Dark. And blue. And draping it over him.
His own eyes were filled with tears. And she had to walk back across the room. Keeping her distance from him.
He watched her. With cold. Dark. Gray. Foggy. Eyes. Half swollen. Half wet. Not his.
That's what she heard in her head. Every time she looked at him. His eyes. Not his. Someone else's.
"Why do you trust him more than me?" His voice was meek. But brought her out of her thought. She shifted. And pulled her arms about her. Suddenly feeling cold.
"Because he doesn't lose my children…" it was a whisper. But it struck her like a shriek. And she stumbled back. Overcome with the guilt of having said that. And she had to pant to recover. Tears fell fluidly down her cheeks.
John did not move. His stare became blank. Distant. Gone.
"I...I...have to..." she stuttered. And ran from the room. Not finishing her retreat. Fleeing to the kitchen. Smacking her shoulder into the wall. Ricocheting. Spinning. And backing into the little corner. Between the cupboards. And the fridge. Where she sank to the floor. Crying.
She stayed there for a long time. Her eyes becoming sore. The edges of her mouth too. Her head aching. Her hands were coated in tears. And snot. And sweat. As she finished. Rose on shaky legs. And wobbled to the counter. Where she fell again.
She reached for a towel. And cleaned off her face. Her hands. Before throwing it down. Sucking in her breath. Trying to regain herself.
When she felt ready. She rose. And went back out to the living room. Only to find John. Passed out. His mouth open. His breath hissing. And pressed. In his pinched throat. She went by him quietly. Stripping from her jacket. Throwing it to the floor.
Up the stairs. She opened the door to Agatha's room. Silently. And found Catcher curled around the little girl. He raised his head to her. Staring.
She smiled back. It was pitiable. Drenched in tears.
Catcher raised up. His face curious. But Lara raised her hand. Telling him to stay. As she turned. And went down the hall.
Lara let go of Catcher's arm. And went to her pocket for the key. But it was not in there.
"That's weird." She said. Catcher cocked an eyebrow. And turned the knob. The door came open.
"Is that weird too?" He asked.
Lara stepped past him. Looking in.
"He's still here, I see."
The voice came from the kitchen. And it made Lara's hair stand up on the back of her neck.
"John?"
"Yes. It's me." The voice was cold. Distant. Sad.
"Go check on Agatha." Lara whispered to Catcher. Pushing him towards the stairs.
She walked in. And Catcher followed. Seeing John at the counter. Drinking out of the milk carton. The cow on it mooed. Milk dribbled down his chin. His lip was numb. His face was dead looking.
She didn't like it.
"He's wearing my sweatshirt…" there was hate in his words.
She turned. And looked at the sweatshirt. But didn't say anything. Her hand went down to her finger. Touching the splint.
"I didn't come here to yell at you." John said. Slowly.
"Then what did you come here for?" She asked. Not looking up from the ground.
"I came to apologize…" he gripped the carton. But didn't raise it. To his lips.
Lara stopped breathing. And her eyes slowly closed. "I'm not going to take any more of your apologies John."
He didn't move.
"I don't have enough energy left to take any more apologies."
Slowly. He closed the top of the carton. And let go.
Then turned.
His throat was bruised. There were tears in his eyes. His face looked heavy.
She felt her stomach knot. As he fell to his knees. Her arms reach out. To touch him.
"I've missed you Lara." John shed a tear. As he reached beneath her arms. Outstretched. And wrapped his own about her waist. Burying his head. Against her belly.
Her hand went to his head. Feeling his hair. His cheek against her stomach.
After a moment. He raised his head. And met her eyes. Coming back up to stand.
He looked at her for a long while. Before he leaned in. And kissed her.
At first. She kissed him back.
Then she noticed his smell. As it touched her nose. Wasn't the same as she remembered it. He didn't smell like John. It smelled rotten. And cold.
And her lips turned stiff.
After sucking what he wanted off her. He pulled away. Question in his eyes. Someone else's eyes.
She hated what he'd become.
Her voice came out cold. Stern. "I don't want to see you around here John. You have a sickness. And I don't want you around my daughter with it."
"You're right." John relented easily. "I do have a sickness. But you don't have to take my daughter away from me..." his words were pleading.
"I want you to go away." Her eyes were sad. But her words were firm.
He was silent for a moment. Sadness reflecting in his sunken eyes. Bleary eyes. Missing eyes.
"I have no where to go." He said. Quietly. Pathetically.
It was silent again.
For a long.
Long.
Time.
"You can have the couch." She broke.
Bitterness suddenly sprouted. As John's attention. Turned to Catcher. Who'd been standing there. The whole time. A shadow. "Where does dead boy sleep?"
"My room." She whispered.
His face became stricken. Distressed. His mouth fell open.
"With you?" He didn't believe.
"In the same bed?" Couldn't.
"Next to you?" Believe.
Each question he asked. Pushed him farther away. Then he ever wanted to be.
And brought Catcher. Ever closer.
She didn't mean to say it. "Sometimes Agatha's room."
Almost.
Turning her head away. Looking at Catcher's feet. His black boots. She knew that'd hit a nerve.
John's jaw hit the floor. His shoulders sank. His cheeks turned red. His forehead gray. His neck blue. His eyes black.
"You trust him with Agatha?" His hand came up. Stiff finger pointing. As if to fire a bullet. At Catcher's chest.
Catcher's hand tightened. On her shoulder.
"More than you." She breathed. "Yes." Looking up. At him.
His jaw shook. His eyes watered. And his knees bent. But he did not fall.
When his shaking body stopped. He looked up at her. His arms out. Palms up. Cupped. In repose. He looked pathetic. "More then me?...More than me...More than me?" His voice grew. Caught in his throat. Stuck in the bruise. Coarse to the ears.
Lara flinched. Catcher's hand tightened. While the other snaked around her waist. Pulling her in. Away from John. She put her own hand on it. Welcoming it.
And a fire lit in John's eyes. Before fogging over.
"I see then." His mouth quivered. As he rose to his feet.
Lara's eyes closed. And she sighed. As she watched John head for the couch. Then she turned. And whispered to Catcher. "Go check on Agatha."
He paused. An eye wary on John. Before he let his arms slide from her. And he moved towards the stairs. Went up. And disappeared.
Lara followed John into the living room. Watched him lay down on the couch. And curl up. Fetally. Tears came in her eyes. But she held them back. Going to the closet. Pulling out a blanket. Dark. And blue. And draping it over him.
His own eyes were filled with tears. And she had to walk back across the room. Keeping her distance from him.
He watched her. With cold. Dark. Gray. Foggy. Eyes. Half swollen. Half wet. Not his.
That's what she heard in her head. Every time she looked at him. His eyes. Not his. Someone else's.
"Why do you trust him more than me?" His voice was meek. But brought her out of her thought. She shifted. And pulled her arms about her. Suddenly feeling cold.
"Because he doesn't lose my children…" it was a whisper. But it struck her like a shriek. And she stumbled back. Overcome with the guilt of having said that. And she had to pant to recover. Tears fell fluidly down her cheeks.
John did not move. His stare became blank. Distant. Gone.
"I...I...have to..." she stuttered. And ran from the room. Not finishing her retreat. Fleeing to the kitchen. Smacking her shoulder into the wall. Ricocheting. Spinning. And backing into the little corner. Between the cupboards. And the fridge. Where she sank to the floor. Crying.
She stayed there for a long time. Her eyes becoming sore. The edges of her mouth too. Her head aching. Her hands were coated in tears. And snot. And sweat. As she finished. Rose on shaky legs. And wobbled to the counter. Where she fell again.
She reached for a towel. And cleaned off her face. Her hands. Before throwing it down. Sucking in her breath. Trying to regain herself.
When she felt ready. She rose. And went back out to the living room. Only to find John. Passed out. His mouth open. His breath hissing. And pressed. In his pinched throat. She went by him quietly. Stripping from her jacket. Throwing it to the floor.
Up the stairs. She opened the door to Agatha's room. Silently. And found Catcher curled around the little girl. He raised his head to her. Staring.
She smiled back. It was pitiable. Drenched in tears.
Catcher raised up. His face curious. But Lara raised her hand. Telling him to stay. As she turned. And went down the hall.