I do not own Bates Motel.
But, in some ways, I do own a Dylan. And I love him so much.
Yeah, Whatever
Crowded House
With all the aplomb and scratch dignity he could muster, Caleb Calhoun . . .
"Hey, I'm Caleb. I'm, uh, a family friend from out of town."
. . . showed himself to be gracious and appreciative and low-key . . .
"Oh here, let me take a picture of you guys for you. A new one for Facebook."
. . . for the reminder of the party.
". . . place is really nice."
After the party .
"Here, I'll take out that garbage."
And on into the night.
"Can I feed her? I never got a chance to before."
And Dylan found himself being slowly lulled . . .
" . . . nice place you guys got here."
. . . into wondering if he had been . . .
". . . missed you guys . . ."
. . . too rough on the guy.
". . . good to see you again."
But the fact remained that no matter how much Caleb cooed over Katie.
"She's so amazing, Emma."
Expressed pride at Dylan's new job . . .
"A promotion, really? I don't think I ever had a legit job much less a promotion."
. . . Or complimented Emma . . .
"Oh, man, Emma, you're such a natural mother . . ."
. . . on her calmness regarding her daughter.
". . . happy baby."
Caleb Calhoun was still . . .
"Oh man, it would be so great to get to see you guys more often."
. . . someone Dylan did not want as a constant in his new life.
"I could babysit, take her to the park . . ."
But he could be damned if he could think . . .
". . . part of a real family."
. . . of a way out of it.
Laying in bed together that night.
Emma seeming to sense that Dylan needed that closeness between them.
Carefully nestling the sleeping Katie into her bassinet.
Climbing into bed.
Laying on her side, gazing into her husband's eyes.
That husband who needed her so.
Needed her calmness, her strength, her support.
As he lay there, on his back.
Left arm up, hand tucked under head.
That head so full of swirling dark thoughts.
Turned to the right.
To his wife.
Her hands on his shoulder closest her.
Light physical contact grounding him.
Dark eyes searching him, seeing into him.
Knowing him.
Everything about him.
Except the secret.
The dark secret.
The bad secret.
The Audrey secret.
"Crazy day, huh?"
"Yeah. I'm sorry he messed up your birthday."
"It's okay, it's not your fault."
No, it's frickin' Facebook's.
He lay there, gazing at her.
Emma.
So beautiful and pure and delicate and perfect.
Laying there against funky patterned sheets she'd purchased for them.
So beautiful and amazing.
On a normal night he might try to kiss her.
Touch her.
Make love to her if she was feeling up to it.
Hey, happy birthday. Let me return the favor.
But today had been a really weird day.
Caleb was in the living room on their couch.
And Dylan was still kinda freaked out about it.
So he just lay there with her.
Warm and still and . . .
"I don't know what I would do without you, Emma. You're so amazing. You're everything. I love you."
Her smile was gentle and warm.
"I love you too, Dylan. And you're better than you think. You always have been . . ."
No, I haven't.
". . . and you've come so far, don't let Caleb being here take that away from you."
He wanted to believe the good things about himself.
"Okay."
He tried.
"I love you."
"I love you."
But he couldn't.
When he woke up that morning, it all seemed like a dream.
He was laying in his bed, wife bundled up under the covers beside him.
The simple white walls soothing, not dull or boring.
The soft light coming through the sheer curtains made him feel safe and shielded from any of the bad outside in the world.
It must have been a dream, Caleb showing up out of the blue.
Man, what was in that dip? Emma, you okay?
Katie was gurgling a little in her crib and Emma . . .
God, you're so beautiful even when you're asleep.
. . . was still knocked out next to him.
He leaned over and nuzzled her ear . . .
"I'm going to get up with Katie, you get some sleep."
. . . causing her to murmur something throaty and graze a hand along his bearded jawline . . .
I love you, Emma.
. . . before settling back down into restful sleep.
Dylan eased carefully out of bed, shrugged into some functional clothes.
I'm coming, Katie . . .
And gathered his wiggly little daughter . . .
"Hey, baby girl . . ."
. . . up in his arms . . .
"Hey, come play with me . . ."
. . . and exited the room, pulling the door closed quietly behind them.
He changed Katie's diaper in her room.
Wiped her little face.
Kissed her little hands.
And generally . . .
"I love you, Katie. I love you."
. . . spent some quality time with his little girl.
He didn't really think anymore about Caleb . . .
"Hey, do you have any coffee?"
Oh shit, heyyy-
Emma drinks tea.
"No, sorry."
. . . until he wandered into the kitchen to make her a bottle.
"You sleep well?"
Not with you here.
"Yeah, good. You?"
Caleb's crooked grin was almost endearing.
"Oh man, yeah, your couch is way more comfortable than that van."
Well, maybe you should get a couch.
Oh, yeah, it wouldn't fit in your van, would it?
"Hey, Katie, good morning, sweetie . . ."
But Caleb was clearly trying so hard . . .
"Hey, why don't we all go out for breakfast?"
How're you going to pay?
"Emma's sleeping in. She's tired."
And you're 'low on funds'.
"Oh right, my bad."
Sheepish grin.
'Cause Caleb was a perpetual screw-up.
"Oh, why don't I go get some famous Seattle coffee and bagels for breakfast?"
Yeah, go nuts.
"Only . . ."
Of course.
"Yeah, yeah, I got it . . . here's some cash."
His uncle-father's craggy face was appropriately appreciative and humble . . .
"Thanks, Dylan. I promise I'll pay you back . . ."
By leaving?
". . . soon, man."
Sure. Whatever.
And then, the scrounging, sorry excuse for a father figure shambled on out of the door . . .
God, Katie, I'm so sorry-
. . . and left Dylan alone with the wispy remains of his shattered 'phantom father' dreams.
Thanks to Lana Brown and WordWeaver81 for your reviews!
WordWeaver81, you are so right, I'm glad to see people respecting their children as humans.