I just want to say thank you to everyone who reviewed the last chapter! Sorry this one was SO LONG in coming! No matter what I did, it just would not be nailed down – but at last, here it is (with another right behind it!)
Chapter Twenty Six:
More Details and Complications…
"It's us," Emma announces before they're even through the door – guess my little muffin's picking up on just how paranoid I can be…
Cicily however has not. I barely have time to pull back from Beth before she comes barreling into the room (and into me) – "Senor Sands!"
Finding a pair of small arms being flung around my waist there really is no other option but to return the hug – and my Christ I really have missed this kid. (But – I think we're going to have to do something about this Senor thing… without breaking my word to Beth. When did life get so fucking complicated?)
(I'm also carefully listening for Spencer's reaction to someone he obviously doesn't know running at me – but it seems that Emma has him well in hand, telling him to sit and settle down.)
"Are you all better yet?" Cicily asks me stepping back just a little (but not quite letting go.)
I kneel so I'm closer to her level, "Mostly."
"I'm glad," and in a completely unexpected move (well, I don't expect it anyway), Cicily wraps her arms around my neck, "I missed you," she says softly, right into my ear.
And all I can really do is hold her close and tell her that I missed her too – she's just a kid, but I swear I can't quite breathe… When did this happen? When did I become so attached…? I don't even like kids, remember?
It's only belatedly that I wonder what Emma must be thinking, because let's face it, my initial reaction to her was – hmmmm, I think 'chilly indifference' just about sums it up, don't you?
And yet here I am, holding onto someone else's kid… but… I've missed them both… there it is, ok? I admit it. I'm glad they're here and I don't want them to leave… which doesn't mean I'm not going to wring Milo's fucking neck for this. It also doesn't mean that I don't honestly believe Beth and Cicily wouldn't be better off, and a whole lot safer, without me around. I'm a fucking menace, and I know it. But I guess I always was a selfish little prick, because right now I have within my grasp something I didn't think was ever going to be possible, and I'm not about to let go.
See, maybe I never did want the white picket fence in the suburbs, but there was a time when I wanted 'it all' – not that I really knew what the fuck that was – but who does, right? Look at Milo's beau, he thought he could have that illusive 'all' if he just married the right girl and had a kid. Look how swell that turned out. It's not all that different for me with Holly, because despite all our differences I would have given almost anything to have 'it all' with her... I just wouldn't give up the one thing she asked me to give up (like I said, I'm a selfish little prick. But she could have asked me to give up anything else – to give her anything at all – and I would have. It would have been a mistake, but I would have done it. Sometimes I wonder if she didn't know that… if she didn't ask me to give up the one thing she knew I wouldn't give up, just so she'd have the excuse she needed to leave me….)
And the day Holly walked out was the day I stopped believing in happy endings, the day I gave up on the fantasy of having anything at all to hold onto. It was the day I woke up. The day I decided that if I didn't get the prize, if there was no cookie, no golden carrot, than there was no reason to live my life as if there was… not that I'd exactly been a choir boy before that, but the day she left it became a conscious decision to just – just do the sorts of things you've watched me doing. No regrets. No apologizes. No going back….
Hell, I'm still half expecting to wake up in the back of the car Eddas sent me home in, having dozed off on the ride back here, because it's a whole lot easier to believe I'm dreaming than to believe Beth is really here and really wants to stay… men like me don't get the girl. Girls like her don't fall for guys like me… but… here she is. And I don't know why – I just know that I like it and I have to figure out some way to make it work out. (And just think, a week ago, I was complaining about being bored…)
"Em – go a head and let Spencer loose," I say in the direction I'm pretty sure Emma's standing with him.
She doesn't reply – but I hear him padding over and put my hand out. Obediently Spencer comes right to me and sits. I give him a little bit of a petting – positive reinforcement and all that.
"Is that your dog?" Cicily wants to know.
"He is," I nod, and tell Spencer to go ahead and say hello to Cicily – she giggles with what I'm pretty sure is a wet dog nose in her face. "His name's Spencer," I tell her. "Senor Givens got him for me."
Cicily is just laughing – it's really a very sweet sound. And I wonder if, when Milo went dog shopping, he didn't have in mind that there might be a small child around… Christ, what an order to fill, trained seeing-eye dog, trainable as a guard/attack dog, must put up with chain smoking fuckmook and like little girls (just not for breakfast)…
"You have to remember, Spencer is like Donna's dog, Keating," Beth says in that voice that I quite firmly believe is possessed only by mothers, "So you have to remember, when he's in his harness, he's working and you can't pet or play with him."
"I can remember," Cicily assures her mother – and it looks like I was right, Beth has had some experience with the blind... I make a mental note to ask her about it later, just to more fully satisfy my curiosity.
"We brought you guys back some desert," Emma says, then – and yeah, I really wonder what she's thinking – her tone is very soft, kind of like it was that very first conversation... I wish I knew what to make of that.
Beth's tone is almost an echo of Emma's when she says thank you; I imagine the two of them exchanging some sort of look – maybe Beth feels the need to apologize to my daughter for the warmth I'm showing her daughter…? I just don't know.
I haven't felt this fucking blind since – since it really hit me that I would never see again. I have absolutely no fricking clue what's going on around me. I mean, sure, I have sounds, but sounds don't help when I need to read body language. I have smells, but smells don't help when I need to look someone in the eye. If I could see, I could probably figure it out… but I can't see. I'll never see again. Even if that isn't exactly news to you or me or anybody else, fuck it all anyway, because this is really starting to get on my fucking nerves (and it just doesn't help that I've had a really bad day that started oh, I don't know, more over twelve hours ago…. Ok, ok, so a few really good things have happened, too, but – but I realize how fucking tenuous this situation really is. Beth and Emma are dancing on razor blades with each other and let's face it, gang, domestic affairs aren't exactly my strong suit, here. I don't build bridges, I blow them up.)
"Why don't Cicily and I put on a pot of coffee," Beth suggests in what sounds like a forcedly cheerful tone. "And maybe get this desert you guys brought home onto plates, because I for one hate eating out of styrophome."
"And because somebody else is on dish duty?" I grin up at her (just trying to roll with it, pretend that nothing is off kilter here, even though I feel as if everything is.)
"That too," Beth says – at least her tone sounds a little more 'real' there…
And… unable to come up with any more graceful an exit, I simply take myself into the living room, snagging my smokes as I go. Behind me, I hear Emma asking if she can give a hand in the kitchen and Beth assuring her that they've got it and I wonder what any of them are thinking.
I park my ass on the sofa, light up a cigarette and listen. Presently, I hear Emma's footsteps – it doesn't sound like she's even going to slow down as she passes me. I don't think I like that. "Em – "
She stops – but doesn't say anything.
"We ah – we need to chat about just a few things," I tell her.
And I hear an awful lot of nothing coming from her, for quite a few seconds. Then, finally, Emma takes a couple of steps in my direction – but she doesn't sit down. "So how pissed are you?"
Good question – I haven't really put a whole lot of thought into how pissed I am her just now (I really am sort of a moment-to-moment guy – just the big stuff gets held over, like ringing Milo's neck – or a more serious note, what I'll do to Collins if I get half a fucking chance.) I take a drag off my smoke while I contemplate how to answer Emma. "I know you know I trust Milo – and Beth told me he called to tell you she was coming. So really I'm must a little bit pissed."
"I wouldn't have let her if he hadn't called."
"I know that." And I really do believe her – Emma's just too smart to let someone in, especially when I'm not around. "Just promise me you won't ever let do it again, not unless you have it from me that whoever it is, is ok, no matter who it is or what kind of ID they show you." Because sooner or later Paula Basil's going to make her way to my doorstep… and with my luck, I'm betting it'll be sooner rather than later.
"Ok."
"Good. Now, what kind of desert did you guys bring back?" I force a smile. There's something still unsettled, here – I just don't know what it is.
"Cicily picked out something for her mother – I picked yours."
"And –?" I prompt.
"It's called – killer chocolate cake."
I can't help but smile.
"So – if I'm off the hook, I'm going to go upstairs and – just disappear for the rest of the night. I'll keep the music down, don't worry." Emma just says...
I don't like her tone. I don't like any of this... but like I said, domestic affairs are just not my strong suit. "You really don't have to vanish - "
"I'm sure you don't really want me around."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"Nothing."
"What's going on?"
"Nothing."
"Em – are you not ok with having Beth and Cicily here?" Because of course, that's my best guess.
"It's not my call, it's yours. Besides, it's not like you and Mom were ever even married, right? Why should I care if you have a girlfriend – or – what you do with her."
I think Bill was onto something when he wrote about the lady who protested too much… but one thing at a time. "I – don't know if I'd use the word 'girlfriend' – " although truthfully, I'm not sure what word I would use.
"Whatever."
"Look, we're just trying to keep it low key for now. I'll be on the sofa. I'm not real sure when that's going to change."
"Whatever."
(I swear, I feel like I'm talking to a brick wall.)
"Em –"
"Whatever. You don't have to explain anything to me," she insists. "It doesn't matter what you do – or with who. I don't care – why should I care – it's not like it would make any difference anyway." She's only barely keeping her voice down… but I give her credit, she's trying to keep this just between us.
"I didn't expect this, you know," I tell her.
"I figured."
"It doesn't change anything."
"Sure it does. But that's ok. I'm a big girl, remember. I'll stay out of your way – out of her way. You can just pretend I'm not even here at all."
"Emma – "
"Whatever – it's all good."
No, no I really don't think it's all good at all…
I hear a soft footstep at the entrance of the room and catch the scent of Beth's perfume… and yes, I do believe there are smaller footsteps following just behind and the soft clanking of silver on plates. I put out what little is left of my cigarette.
"I went ahead and poured you a cup, too," Beth says in Emma's direction, stepping into the room after a moment's hesitation at the doorway.
(My fifteen year old drinks coffee…?)
"I was – just heading up to my room," Emma tells her.
"Well – anyway –"
"Thanks," it sounds like Emma's taken the cup from Beth. At least her tone isn't quite as cold as it was when she was talking to me. Yeah, I really do give her credit for that – because it seems as if it's me she's pissed at, not Beth (so at least she knows how to properly assign blame…) But I'm still surprised when Em invites Cicily up to her room to play computer games, assuring Beth that it's a 'totally kid friendly' game, something based on a movie about juvenile spies that I've never heard of…
"Please?" Cicily says in Beth's direction in that sort of pleading tone that I've only heard out of her a couple of times.
(And I reflect briefly on what my sister said about Emma and her kids. Somehow I'm just not buying that my daughter can't be trusted. If nothing else, I trust Beth's judgment over Alison's any day of the week.)
With a bit of a sigh (that I'm pretty sure is more token resistance than anything else), Beth relents…
And again we are alone (except for Spencer who's crashed back out into his favourite chair.)
I shift a little so I'm 'facing' Beth. "So."
"So."
Right. "What's the deal between you and Em?" Because if Emma won't give a straight answer, maybe Beth will.
Beth settles back into the sofa, getting comfortable – but she slides in my direction, which is certainly quite welcome – it's even more welcome when I find her head resting on my shoulder. "Honest answer is that I don't know for sure," she tells me. "But I can take a guess."
"Please do."
Beth pauses for a moment, probably to collect her thoughts. "Emma said you went to your sister's for Thanksgiving with no idea she was even there – although she did a good job of dancing around certain details because she wasn't sure what all I knew about you."
I smile – that's my kid… feeling Beth's hand on my knee, I lay my hand over hers and smile a whole lot more when she twines her fingers into mine… "Did you tell her?"
"What, that I know you were with the CIA? Yeah – after I was sure she knew it too."
"No gut feelings to guide you?"
"I told you – they're not always one hundred percent."
"Ah. Right. So – ?"
"So – you appeared at your sister's house without warning and basically swept Emma off her feet."
Ok, colour me stunned, "I what?"
"Sheldon, she's been waiting her whole life to meet you – and let me tell you, you really can be larger than life."
"I can?" I seriously think I need another cigarette.
Beth keeps from getting it though – so now she's holding both hands (which isn't necessarily a bad thing…) "Enough with the chain smoking, Cowboy. It's not good for you."
"So the Surgeon General says," I grumble at her.
"I'm serious."
I think I put a bullet in the last person who suggested I cut back on the nicotine. However, I am capable of showing restraint… really I am… "So how about you just explain this larger than life thing – because I just don't see it –" hmmm. Yeah. Anyway. "You know what I mean," I say before she has a chance at any snappy comebacks.
"You're very – big."
Oh, talk about your opportunities for snappy comebacks… but I'm determined to restrain myself, just this once. "Big?"
"Big. Especially to Emma – and especially right now. She had everything she's ever known – everything she's ever considered safe and secure –ripped out from under her when her mother died. Then she was unceremoniously dumped on people who didn't wanted her. She didn't necessarily say anything – but – it was more than just my gut telling me that she was pretty miserable there. And then – you came along. And you took her away from all that. You gave her a home. You gave her happily ever after. And she's afraid of losing that – of losing you."
Oh my Christ (and fuck me while you're at it, because even if I'd never have thought of it in quite those terms, I can see where someone else might see it just that way…) "I'm no Prince Charming, Ange."
"You have your moments," Beth's smile is audible; she pulls her hand away from mine, just long enough to run it along my cheek and jaw, giving me a nice opportunity to plant a kiss on her palm… then she continues: "Right now you represent every hope Emma's ever had and everything was really going to be all right. Until Cicily and I showed up."
"What – why?"
"Think about it. She's basically been the centre of your world for the last four days – "
"Four days in which I seriously would've shot her if she wasn't mine."
Beth just laughs, "I'm not saying it's been four perfect days – but – it's been four important days. Believe it or not, parenting isn't about getting it right all the time – it's about being there."
"But I haven't been there. I – I skipped out on checking the P.O. box I set so Holly could get a hold of me – I haven't seen a single piece of mail she's sent me in the last three years – I never will," I add – and even Beth's warmth next to me isn't enough to make feel better about that. I have no excuse except my laziness… next week, next month, next year… and now? Now it'll never matter. "Holly wanted me to come back – Emma helped her write the letter – " And sometimes you just know after you've said something that you really shouldn't have said it… because I feel a sudden, distant, chill from Beth. It's not quite cold – but – it feels is if she's drawing into herself. More importantly, it feels as if she's drawing away from me.
"I'm sure Emma knows you care about her, Sheldon. I'm sure Holly knew it too."
I don't like her tone – it's just too fucking – quiet. Kind of like the way she was when she just gave up.
"Beth –"
"What matters now is you and Emma."
"No."
"Yes."
"Lots of things matter. Emma is one of them. But she's not the only one."
"She's your daughter."
"I know that." Oh boy do I know that…. "But you're important too. You and Cicily both." Because I'm not going to lose them now… not after this afternoon. Not after finally convincing myself that maybe – just maybe – I have a shot at something other than a shallow grave…
"Sheldon, listen to me. I know what it feels like to lose one parent and to be desperately afraid you're going to lose the other one too. I know you don't think much of my father, but he was all I had after my Mom died. I knew – I knew what he expected from me wasn't fair but I would have done anything in the world to please him. If someone had suddenly shown up to – to take Mom's place – to take my place – I would have been lost."
"I get that." There's a bald-faced lie if ever I told one. My father split and I never thought about losing my mother. The only reason I didn't like the men Mom dated is that they were all wrong for her. When she died, I skipped the funeral – but ok, that's me. And frankly, I'm sure that this isn't what really has Beth tap dancing on razor blades, so truthfully I don't care. We can always come back to the subject of parental loss later if it's really that important (because my gut is saying 'diversionary tactic', and my gut is usually right, too – so there.) "Beth – I've had a fuck of a day. I know there's something more on your mind, I can hear it in your voice. So – if you could maybe just tell me what is –?"
There's a long silence on her end… but I can feel her grip on my hands tightening (a good sign, I hope) and I squeeze right back.
"What I said about losing a parent is true. But – you're right. It's not what has me – pulling away. That's just – it's a self defense mechanism, ok? I don't really mean it."
There's enough hurt in her voice that I'm convinced she's telling me the truth, even if I can't look her in the eye. (Not that I'd know anything at all about building walls… yes, that is indeed sarcasm there kiddies.) "Ok. As long as you tell me why."
"I really need you to understand that – that I don't want to be some kind of replacement for Holly. I can't be. Not for Emma. And not for you – especially not for you."
Ok, that came out of left field… apparently it shows on my face just how stunned I really am (not that I'm makingany kind of attempt to hide anythingjust now.)
"It's – something that – it's been on my mind for a long time." Beth tells me (and believe me, the explanation isn't really helping me 'get it'). "I really – still – feel like there's – someone. It's like – there's someone – hanging over your shoulder – " I can feel her shrug. "I can't explain it any better than that."
Ok. Right. "Holly died three months ago. We hadn't spoken in years. Even if she wanted me to come home – it wasn't like that. She pretty much hated me."
"I doubt she hated you, Sheldon."
"Maybe hate's a strong word," I concede. I'm not real sure Holly hated anyone, even me (even if I think she should have). "But we were together less than six months and – look, maybe loved her, maybe I didn't, I just don't know any more. What I do know is that when it was over it was over. She walked out on me – I went into the CIA. In fact, she walked out on me because I went into the CIA. She told me she couldn't live with a man whose whole life was built around lies and secrets and government conspiracies." And it occurs to me – again – that I have no fucking idea how Beth could live with a man like that either… but she knows. I know she knows. She has to know. I only hope she understands… "I didn't even think about Holly again until the day she called to tell me I was a father."
"Look – it's only a guess, but – I really believe Emma's afraid I'm going replace her mother, that Holly's memory will somehow become – unimportant to you because I'm here. That she'll be less important to you because you have – other people who care about you."
I think my head is starting to hurt again. "But Holly and I were never together during Emma's life – there's just nothing to replace."
"Do you really think that matters to a fifteen year old?"
And thinking about what Emma said ...it's not like you and Mom were ever even married…Why should I care if you have a girlfriend – or – what you do with her… "Maybe not."
Beth squeezes my hands a little tighter, "I can accept it out of Emma to be afraid of me replacing her mother because she's fifteen and she's had her whole world turned upside down and inside out. I just couldn't ever accept it out of you to expect me to be something – or someone – that I'm not. I can't be her. I can't be some kind of – substitute for her. And I'm afraid you're going to – going to do exactly what Emma's afraid of you doing. I'm afraid that Holly is still so much a part of you that – that there might not be any room for me, even if you want there to be."
…for someone who was a part of your life so long ago she still seems to mean an awful lot to you... and when Beth said that she had that sad, thoughtful tone in her voice, the one that makes her sound like she's a million miles away even when she's right next to me… "Beth, I have never carried any kind of torch for Holly. She's – she was – the mother of my child. Period. Maybe she didn't hate me but I couldn't give her the kind of happy ending she wanted out of life – and she didn't want any part of the life I thought I wanted. That's why she left me. She gave me an ultimatum and when I didn't choose the way she wanted me to – it was over."
"It hurt –"
"Yes." I cut her off – I really don't want to go into just how much it hurt. "I know I told you remind me a wee bit of her sometimes, with your Karma and providence and – hocus-pocus shit, but – she walked out on me. She didn't want any part me." (And yes, I feel way too fricking exposed…) "I really don't expect you to stick around either," I conclude, because what the Hell, I've gone this far right? Might as well just lay it out on the line and see what she does with it. What's the worst that can happen? (Ok, so I don't really want to think about that either… but if she's going to go, I'd rather she leaves me before I'm any more attached to her than I already am.)
"I guess I'm being unfair – I'm sorry. I just can't seem to shake the feeling that there's someone – and – I'm letting it have too much sway over me. I'm not always right – especially not when I'm so – wrapped up in something. Maybe I'm just looking for – for reasons for you to change your mind about wanting me around."
"Never." My tone surprises even me – because I'm not used to being anywhere near this honest, especially not when I'm feeling so God damned vulnerable. But she really hasn't hurt me yet… my Christ, she really hasn't hurt me. Not when she had me completely vulnerable and could have sold me out to any number of people for quite a bit of dough (dough I'm sure she could use, too)… and not when I laid out how I really felt about wanting to come back… not even when I didn't come back, because even if she didn't know it, there was a lot she could have said that would have hurt. My Christ… "Believe me, Beth, there is no one in this world who would put up with me – so you really don't have to worry about any kind of competition for my sorry assed self."
"You might really be surprised."
"Mais, vous êtes mon ange. Je n'ai jamais dit cela à n'importe qui. Savvy?"
"Will you ever believe that I'm no angel?"
"Vous m'avez tenu quand j'avais peur dans l'obscurité – et vous m'avez fait la confiance vous quand je n'ai pas," I have to pause and think a second – it's been a few years since I've hacked my way through the French language there, mes amis. "Pensé que je – je pourrais jamais faire confiance à n'importe qui encore."
"I don't care how pretty you make it sound," Beth tells me, "It's still not true."
But I can hear that the smile has really returned to her voice – and that's all I care about.
"It's true to me. Vous serez toujours mon ange."
(Huh? Oh, right, translation for the peanut gallery. I told her that she's my angel and that I've never called anyone else that. Then I reminded her that she's the one who held me in the dark and convinced me that it was safe to trust her, even when I didn't think I'd ever trust anyone again. And then… yeah, use your imaginations…)
……….
"Do you think I should give talking to Emma another try?" I ask Beth, our mouths finally parting. (and Christ,do I love the way this woman kisses me…)
"I think she took Cicily up with her so you couldn't. And – maybe because she's trying to – ingratiate herself with you – or me."
I just nod – that makes sense. It doesn't help me decide what to do – but it makes sense.
"Time is the only thing that's going to fix this, Sheldon," Beth says, reclining into me. "You are literally all she has and she knows it. Just keep on doing exactly what you have been doing – and – make sure Emma knows that everything else is going to be ok too."
"Everything else?"
"You know, you, Mexico, the CIA. She's fifteen. She's scared."
"Right. Sometimes I forget that some of the stuff I take as just a part of my day other people might freak out about."
"I've noticed that tendency. Don't worry about me," she adds. "I don't freak out that easily."
"I've noticed that," I pull her a little closer, just to feel her warmth. Just to convince myself that there really are happy endings… that guys like me can get the girl.
"I'll do what I can too – with Emma. I think – the more she sees me not trying to replace her mother the more she'll be ok with – with whatever it is we're really doing here."
"We're just taking it a day at a time," I brush my hand across her cheek; she catches it in hers and lays soft kisses along my fingertips, making me smile.
"I need time too," Bethadmits to mequietly after a few pleasantmoments. "I'm not used to someone who – just kind of accepts me the way I am. I keep waiting for some other shoe to drop."
"No shoes here, Darlin'. Assuming you really do believe me when I say I'm not a nice guy."
"I know that if I told you 'ok', Neal would be dead within the month."
"No. He'd be dead within the week – probably in just a couple of days depending on my mood at the time you gave me the go ahead to take him out."
"I was being generous with the time because I have no idea how much time something like that takes to set up – and I don't need to know. All I need to know is how serious you really are. I have no doubts." She traces the lines of my palm, "I knew before I knew who you were and I'm right often enough to believe what I see here."
"And you can really live with that? With me, knowing just exactly what kind of man I really am?" Because she's not the only one around here waiting for falling footwear.
"I like having you around," Beth gives my own words back to me, which is justcompletely unfair………