Disclaimer: not mine.
A:N: second chapter up today. this is the definite end. enjoy. please review.
Three weeks later Daniel sits nervously next to me on a park bench in Central Park. He is clutching a red yoyo in his hands, but he doesn't spin it. We are waiting for Chandler. Daniel's dad. It is the first time they meet since the day Chandler came to the apartment. Daniel refused to see him at first, but my brother and Joey had a little chat with him, and he eventually warmed to the idea. I reach out absentmindedly to correct his dark hair that is ruffled by the wind. He, just as absentmindedly, swats my hand away. He and I both spot Chandler entering the park at a nearby gate. Daniel shifts a little on the bench, clutching the yoyo tighter in his hand.
"My tummy feels funny, mommy." He says, and I give him a short hug, explaining to him that it's because he's a little nervous, and that it will pass soon. He nods obediently, and looks down as Chandler walks up to us. I stand up, Daniels hand clutched in mine, even though he is still sitting. I greet Chandler, and give my son a big hug, telling him that I will go for a short walk. He looks scared as his gaze moves between me and Chandler, but then he nods again. I glance back at them over my shoulder as I walk a bit further down the lawn behind the bench before sitting down under a nearby tree. All I can see are their backs, but it is all I need to see to know that they are equally nervous.
"Hey!" Chandler says, and I can see him holding out his hand slightly tentatively. "I'm Chandler." Daniel looks up from his yoyo and hesitantly grips Chandler's hand.
"I'm Daniel." He says, looking up at the unknown yet so incredibly familiar face of the older man. Chandler smiles then, telling the boy that he is very happy to meet him. Daniel nods again, shy as always. Chandler reaches for the paper bag he had placed next to him on the bench, holding it out for Daniel.
"Here, I got you a present." As always when given something, Daniel's eyes lights up, and he smiles, accepting the gift. He opens it carefully to reveal a notebook, colored pencils and a fancy looking ballpoint pen. He smiles at the man next to him on the bench. Chandler smiles back. "Your aunty Rachel told me that you like to write and draw, and I thought…" He opened the notebook for Daniel to see. "You can draw pictures on the top half." He said, pointing. "And then you can write on the bottom half. Like in a real book." He said; his voice not quite as sure of himself as when he started the sentence. "But… I mean, if you'd rather have something else…" He is cut off by the small shake of Daniel's head.
"Thank you." He says, shyly, daring to meet Chandler's gaze. "I really like it." I watch, teary eyed from behind the tree as my son reaches up to give his dad a hug. Chandler seems touched by the gesture and awkwardly ruffles the boy's hair. They go on to talk about their new found common interest of writing and drawing, and I delight in their bonding. Deep down in my heart I find that there still seems to be some hope of restoring the mess I have made.
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It is just a split second in time. I catch a glimpse of them as I turn from the kitchen counter; like a snapshot, a freshly made Polaroid, taken and delivered to me instantly. Chandler sits at the head of the table, his face one of utter confusion and disbelief. It looks as if he wonders, as he looks out over the chaotic breakfast table, how he even got there in the first place. On his right is Daniel, brooding over the New York Post, spreading the paper over half the surface of the table. He is fourteen now, busy outgrowing his skin and trying to keep up with the world. On Chandler's left is six year old Jacob, his face resting tiredly in his right hand, his left hand pulling at the sleeve of Chandler's shirt. My seat is opposite the table from Chandler. It is a seat usually only occupied when no one in my dear family requires my services. On my left, next to Daniel, is three year old Martha. The entire sleeve of her pajama shirt is tucked in her mouth; her eyes are big with wonder as she chews on it slightly while looking at the pictures in the paper Danny is reading. On my right, in a padded high chair is, finally, Toby. He is the only one who resembles some sort of normalcy, even though he has just learnt to sit up straight, doesn't eat solid food and barely sleeps through the night. Apart from him, the scene before me is one of complete chaos, but the mere feeling of being a family, a real family, beats the fact that the chaos makes me panic slightly. Chandler catches me looking at them and the frozen instant breaks. Quickly he orders his children to put the paper away, sit up straight, and please stop eating their clothes. My smile grows wider as I put the bread down on the table, and sit down in my chair.
"I love you!" Chandler mouths over the racking of our eldest sons attacking the food in front of them. I smile and mouth the words back to him before turning my attention to Martha and Toby. We are finally a family.