Chapter 6: It Takes Time
While Owen completed his therapy session with Dr. Wyatt, Amelia grabbed a snack in the cafeteria. She hoped to be alone and decompress as she sat in the corner flipping through an outdated People magazine. Grabbing another apple slice, Amelia nibbled it in tiny bites and savored each one. Not having to share her food with anyone under 18 was a treat.
"Hey, compadre, how's the homecoming?" Jackson asked as he put his hand on Amelia's shoulder and kissed her cheek.
Amelia beamed. Jackson understood her. They seemed to speak the same language. With a wide smile, she held up an apple slice and asked, "Care to join me?"
Grabbing the snack, Jackson smiled and sat down. As he bit into the slice, he inquired with a knowing tone, "So… really… how's it going?"
She looked directly into his eyes and recounted in a droll tone, "Let's see… he's been home just shy of 24 hours. In that time, I think we've argued 2 or 3 times, he's snapped at the kids here and there, we had sex and actually enjoyed one another, and I watched him suffer through a painful PT session. I wondered how he would possibly get out of the rig last night, pretended to need to come here this morning and ended up sobbing in an on-call room and waking up Karev, and, somehow, and I ended up hoodwinked into a therapy session. But, wait, there's more. We also chatted briefly about the kids and how the deployment has led to Oliver re-adopting his baby blanket, caused Bronwyn to speak in baby talk, made Ella forget her Daddy, and compelled Finley to vacillate between sneering, isolation, headaches, and going out of his way to be helpful. Oh, and it's Ella's first birthday today."
"Geez…" Jackson commented as he grabbed an apple slice off Amelia's tray.
Amelia grimaced and announced with dry sarcasm, "Happy freakin' reunification. Hurrah!"
Jackson laughed softly and put his hand on Amelia's lower arm. "Can I say something?"
"Of course," Amelia nodded.
"It's been less than 24 hours. Less than one full day. Cut yourselves some slack and don't try to catch up or fix what feels broken in a day," Jackson offered as his deep eyes bored into Amelia's. "And one more piece of advice from someone who's been there: it takes time."
Amelia stretched out her neck as she wound it from one shoulder to another. "Well… that sucks, Jackson. That just sucks." They caught each other's glance and broke into hysterical laughter.
"Oh, yeah? My advice sucks, huh?" Jackson inquired through his continuing laughter and patted her arm where his hand remained. Their laughter began to ebb and Amelia looked down at the table. A comfortable silence rolled in.
"It's not your advice that sucks. It's the truth within it," Amelia muttered as she continued looking at the table but handed Jackson an apple slice.
"I know, Amy," Jackson responded using the name she'd invited him to use, "I know…"
"Our symbiosis has fallen flat. We misunderstand each other's words. My Owen didn't return, some other guy… some physically and maybe emotionally wounded guy took his place. That guy is unpredictable… his eyes seem partially vacant. And, honestly, I'm absolutely furious that he came home injured," Amelia disclosed.
"Of course, you are," Jackson affirmed with deep empathy as he internally recalled seeing those injuries take place. Nobody else would understand and affirm her anger about Owen's injuries. To most people, such a statement would sound horrible. But Jackson understood.
Amelia looked up from the table and caught Jackson's eyes. Her bottom lip, once again, was quivering and her eyes were glistening with unfallen tears. She took a deep breath and said softly, "And I'm really tired of crying." A smile followed her melancholy statement, and Jackson pursed his lips in response.
He whispered, "I know. I really, really know. And I'm so sorry you're hurting." He removed his hand from her arm, leaned back in his chair and placed his hands behind his neck. "And, you're right. It sucks."
Amelia smiled gently and whispered, "Yeah…" The two sat there in silence as they finished the other snacks on the tray.
About 3 minutes later, Owen pushed himself toward them. His jubilant voice celebrated, "Mia!"
Amy looked up and met Owen's smile, "Hi, Owen. How did everything go?" She gritted her teeth and opened her lips expressing embarrassed regret.
"No worries, really," Owen responded with sincerity. Owen reached out and patted Jackson on the back, "Avery, how are you? How's April?"
"She's good. We're good," Jackson nodded. "It's great to see you, Hunt. You're looking great."
"And probably looking a helluva lot better than last time you saw me, huh?" Owen chuckled as Jackson laughed awkwardly.
"Huh?" Amelia asked with utter confusion.
Owen reciprocated with a perplexed expression, attempting to remind her, "Last time he saw me…"
"Umm…" Amelia gazed back and forth at the two men before her.
"Amy, remember, I was speaking with April when the soldiers invaded. I witnessed Owen being thrown down, kicked, and shot. The chaplain and I, when we came over…we told you all that," Jackson explained gently. Owen looked at Jackson curiously, having heard him refer to his wife as 'Amy.'
"Oh, yeah," Amelia acted as if she recalled that detail. She smirked, "My memory of that day is kind of a blur."
Owen reached over and grasped Amelia's hand, "We should probably get going if we're going to make it home for dinner."
Still a little foggy as she tried to remember the details of the day Owen was hurt, Amelia offered a distracted response, "Yeah…yeah, we should."
"Hey, Avery," Owen began. "Speaking of dinner, why don't you and April come by for dinner? Wednesday? Are you both free on Wednesday?"
"We are," Jackson confirmed. "That would be great. What shall we bring?"
"Just yourselves. We'll see you around 5 – 5:30?" Owen invited.
Once Amelia and Owen were well on their way home, Owen reached over and turned down the NPR report blaring through the speakers. Glancing over at him, Amelia smirked.
With complete curiosity and not angrily, Owen inquired, "So, seems like you and Jackson… you guys spent some time together while April and I were away."
"We did," Amelia admitted without hesitation. "He came over for dinner now and then. Played ball with the boys... roughhoused with the kids… They loved the man energy and presence."
"Oh," Owen responded flatly.
"Is that a problem?" Amelia asked curiously.
"No. No problem. I imagine the kids enjoyed it," Owen responded sincerely. "You and he probably had a great deal in common with your spouses both away in the field."
"Absolutely," Amy confirmed innocently. "We encouraged one another. Had some great chats."
"Yeah," Owen responded flatly. "I heard him call you Amy."
"I invited him into the club," Amelia quipped with a light giggle and a wink. "We just kind of… I dunno… just kind of got each other, you know?" Owen wanted to be completely accepting about Amelia's choice to invite Jackson to use the nickname that was limited to a select few. After all, it was her nickname. He attempted to talk himself out of feeling sad or beguiled. Sharing the privilege with Derek was no problem – Derek was her brother, he was family. Addison was like a sister to her and had been her sister-in-law at a crucial time in Amelia's life. Her dad, of course, had coined the name. But Jackson? Extending the 'club,' as she called it, to friends made Owen a little uneasy. Yet, Owen disliked feeling that way.
He reached over and set his hand on Amelia's knee, adding sadly, "Kind of like we used to before all this. Synergy. We had synergy then."
Amelia grimaced but didn't take her eyes off the road as she repeated Jackson's words, "We did, and we will again. It hasn't even been 24 hours, Owen. This all takes time."
"Oh, yeah, of course," Owen responded with reassurance. "It's been an intense 24 hours. I'm sorry for my part in that. We should find a way to escape for a day or two…just the two of us. Or, are you still nursing? We could take the twins. That actually could be fun."
Amelia drove through their gate and toward the house and beamed, "I'd really love that, Owen. I really would. Let's figure out details after dinner."
Thrilled with Amelia's response, Owen smiled widely, "Great. Yeah, let's do it."
The family gathered around the table for dinner shortly after Owen and Amelia returned home. Like in the past and without anyone's conscious prompting, Owen sat at the head of the table with Amelia to his left. Lynne was taking the evening off, figuring the family should be by themselves on Owen's first night home. The twins were on either side of Amelia with Finley next to Ella. Oliver and Bronwyn sat with their backs to the window with Bronwyn to Owen's right.
With the exception of the twins, who escaped the broccoli, everyone had a full plate of spaghetti, cheese bread, and broccoli before them. As they began to eat, Owen suggested a conversation starter, "Let's share highs and lows. I'll start, unless someone else wants to start."
"I'll start," Oliver volunteered. "My high was more than one thing: Playing with the dogs, snuggling with Dad and the babies this morning, and reading my library book about airplanes. My low… well, I was kind of lonely when everyone but me was taking a nap, but the dogs kept me company, so it turned out ok."
"My turn! My turn!" Bronwyn called out. "My highs were singing my new song this morning, taking a cuddly nap with Dada on the couch, and playing Barbies with Lynne and the twins."
Everyone kept their gaze on Bronwyn, who looked around wondering why. "A low, Bron, do you have a low?" Finley groaned.
"Oh!" Bronwyn exclaimed, "My low was when Mama no pick me up to put me on couch." She concluded the sentence with an attention-seeking pout that was ignored.
"Finley? Do you want to go next?" Owen asked his eldest.
"No, not really," Finley grumbled.
Owen smiled and offered, "Ok, I'll go next. My high," he looked at Amelia with a sly grin, "was waking up and being home. I missed you all so much and I'm happy to be back. My low was during physical therapy when I had to do one exercise that really, really hurt. Mia?"
"I think I had more than one high today too," Amelia began as she stroked Owen's left leg under the table. "My highs were waking up next to Daddy, when Finley came to take Gwen so he could feed her breakfast, when Bronwyn sang, when I nursed Gwen, when I watched Oliver snuggle with Daddy and, especially, when I wished Ella happy birthday. I also spent some time with two friends today and that was nice. My low was when I went to the hospital this morning. Finley?"
"Do I have to?" Finley groaned to Amelia.
Simultaneously, Owen and Amelia both responded, "Yes, please." A glimpse of synergy.
Finley huffed, completely disinterested in interacting with his family. He mumbled, "My high was sleeping when I had a headache and my low was hearing Mom and Dad fighting." He put a bite of spaghetti in his mouth immediately after his final word.
Amelia gave Finley a motherly look that expressed her frustration and disappointment, while Owen slowly took in a deep breath and turned toward Bronwyn to ask, "Bron, tell me about your Barbie Village."
"It was a city where nobody wore shoes and the other law was that Dada's couldn't ever, ever, never go away to wars," Bronwyn shared with innocent and naïve enthusiasm.
Breaking in, Amelia inquired, "Oliver, tell me about this airplane book. I haven't seen it yet."
Oliver entered into a complex and extended description of the book and each airplane featured in it. With great relief, the dinner conversation began rolling forward.
Finley, finishing ten minutes after everyone sat down, interrupted Oliver, asking to be excused. Owen, turning from the twin he was feeding, urged, "Let's all stay together a little longer, Fin. Clear your plate and grab something to drink, then sit back down with us." Finley huffed loudly and dramatically went about Owen's instructions to clear his plate and grab something to drink. He poured a glass of water and then headed up the stairs with it.
"Hey, Fin, c'mon back over," Owen ordered gently. Finley continued ascending the stairs, heading toward his room. Amelia and Owen exchanged glances.
"Oliver, could you please come sit in my seat and help feed the babies?" Amelia requested. Oliver, sensing an easy opportunity to be the favored child of the evening, agreed cheerfully.
Amelia set her napkin on the table and walked upstairs to chat with Finley.
Bronwyn leaned toward Owen and whispered, "Psssttt…Dada? Dada is Fin-Yee in twubba?"
"You don't need to worry about Finley, Red," Owen responded as he flicked his index finger on her nose playfully.
Bronwyn rolled her eyes and exuded charm, responding, "Oh, Dada…there's that name again."
"Yep," Owen laughed as he took a bite of bread.
"Why do you call me that now?" Bronwyn inquired.
"Because you have red hair," Owen explained with a smile. "And because I like having silly names for you."
"So, can I call you Dada Red? Or Red Daddy? 'Cause you'll have red hair when it grows back, you know," Bronwyn pointed out.
"Let's stick with Dada or Daddy – one name at a time is enough," Owen advised with a wink.
Amelia stood outside Finley's bedroom door briefly, attempting to erase her anger toward him so she could maintain her calm as they spoke. She knocked and walked in, receiving a look of disgust from her son who was stretched out on his bed throwing a nerf ball against the wall.
"Do you suppose you could wait until I say, 'Come in,' before just walking in my room?" Finley sneered.
Amelia folded her arms and looked down at him. "No, Finley, I don't suppose I can. See, I'm your mom and I own this house. Anyone living here lives under my rules."
"Hmmm…even Dad?" Finley scoffed before continuing, "and…let's at least be honest, we both know you're not my real mom and dad."
"It sounds like you have a number of subjects you'd like to discuss. For now, I'm going to talk and you're going to listen. We can revisit your topics at another time," Amelia insisted calmly. "Finley, you didn't mind your father a few minutes ago. Would you like an opportunity to rethink that decision or shall we proceed with a description of the consequences? Here's your chance. Your choice."
Finley stood up dramatically with a grumble, walked past Amelia and proceeded downstairs. Amelia thought to herself, Thank God that worked.
When he reached the table, Finley pulled out his chair and sat down. He leaned his arms on the table so he could see around his sister and brother, and stated, "Dad, I apologize for not doing what you asked me to do."
"Thanks, Finley," Owen nodded before turning his head to share a glance with Amelia as she sat down in Oliver's chair.
"Fin-Yee?" Bronwyn requested. Finley ignored her, so she repeated herself.
"Bronwyn, are you trying to get my attention?" Finley asked flatly.
"Mhm," she nodded.
"Then say my name properly. You're not a baby," Finley instructed decisively.
"I can'ts say it anymo," Bronwyn replied.
"Then I guess we're not going to talk," Finley observed before looking down at his hands and slumping in his chair.
Bronwyn persisted, "Me wants to know if Fin-Yee in twubba."
"Bronwyn, are you finished with dinner?" Owen asked, attempting to redirect the discussion.
"Yes," Bronwyn responded.
"Then ask to be excused, clear your plate, and start clearing the table. Finley, do you still put the food away and do dishes?" Owen inquired.
"Yes," Finley confirmed with disinterest.
"Please start those efforts, then," Owen requested.
"Should I feed the dogs and clean the counters, Daddy?" Oliver suggested eagerly.
"Please, and thanks for helping with the twins, Oliver," Owen acknowledged.
Amelia stood up to grab a washcloth so she could begin cleaning up the girls and their chairs.
Owen reached out his hand when she returned to the twins, offering, "Aims, let me take care of that. It's one thing I can actually do."
"Thanks, Owen," Amelia stated gratefully. "Now, what am I going to do?"
"Go fall onto the bed, put your feet up and take a break," Owen suggested with a twinkle in his eye. "I'll manage this as best I can. Don't worry – I'll holler if I need assistance."
Amelia put her hands over her heart and leaned down to kiss Owen's lips, mumbling, "Thank you, O. What a wonderful surprise."
Forty-five minutes later, Owen wheeled into the bedroom. Amelia was flipping through a medical journal and glimpsed over it to see her husband. "You ready for me out there?" she asked with anticipation.
"Nope," Owen responded as he wheeled into the bathroom.
"Huh?" Amelia sought to confirm.
Owen came out a few minutes later, "If you want to go out there, you sure can. I'm not sure why you'd bother. The kids are bathed and in bed. The kitchen and dining room are clean."
Amelia's mouth fell open in surprise, "Are you serious? How'd you manage that?"
Laughing, Owen admitted, "Finley's behavior offered me an opportunity to require his assistance. After the kitchen was clean, I sat on a barstool at the sink in the kitchen and bathed the twins. They thought it was hilarious. Finley supervised the other baths, much to Oliver's deep dismay. Everyone over 5 was fully capable of changing into their PJs and reading books to themselves, and those under 5 were dressed by Dada and put in their cribs by Fin-Yee."
"You're kidding me, right?" Amelia scoffed. "Umm…wow!"
"The way I figure it, I owe you roughly two months' worth of bedtime and morning routines," Owen winked as he worked his way onto the bed.
"Keep talking…" Amelia joked.
He laughed and leaned over to grab her and pull her down playfully as he tickled her.
"Stop!" Amelia giggled non-stop, "Owen!"
"Why would I stop, it sounds like you're having fun?" Owen asked impishly. Although his words asked the question, he knew better than to back up those words with continued tickling. A little went a long way.
Amelia began pulling her clothes off piece by piece. Owen watched as he flirted with his eyes and facial expressions. Then she began to undress her husband, reaching down beneath his legs once she'd completed the task.
"Mmm…that feels great, Mia, and I can't believe I'm saying this, but it's your turn. Don't worry about me right now," Owen insisted as he balanced on his side.
Smiling broadly with a happy purr, Amelia stretched her entire body in delight. She placed her fingers and hands placed above her head all the way and stretched them one way while stretching her toes in the other direction. Owen, maneuvering his right leg inelegantly but doing his best, began by kissing her on the forehead and working his way down. He grazed her whole body down to her toes, then paused halfway back and remained there until the purrs turned into moans of pleasure. As she caught her breath, her body now ultra-sensitive to his touch, Owen completed his exploration by kissing her from her hips to the crown of her head.