Chapter 10
The following evening, during their nightly movie, there came a knock at the door. Bob heaved himself off the sofa and went to answer it. He came back into the living-room, followed by Richards, Davis, Tim, and Charlie.
"Hi." Linda stood up, wanting to hug them, but finding herself unable to do so.
"Hello, Mrs Belcher," Chief Richards politely removed his hat, as did the others. "Once again, we'd all like to offer our sincere condolences."
"Thank you," Linda whispered. "Please, have a seat."
Gene and Tina automatically got up and squashed themselves into the armchair, while Linda perched on the armrest next to them, adjusting the waistband of her jeans. The sofa was taken up by the visitors, and so Bob sat on the other arm of the chair, muting the TV.
"We just wanted to come by and see how everyone was. Also, that if you need any of us to give evidence in the trial, we'd be glad to."
"That's really nice; thanks," said Bob.
"We feel like it's the least we can do," Tim said, while Linda stood.
"Anybody want coffee? I can make a pot," she offered.
"Only if it's not too much trouble, Mrs Belcher," said Chief Davis, and the other three men nodded in agreement, and Linda disappeared into the kitchen.
While Linda made the coffee, the living-room remained silent.
"I just wanted you to know, we're not mad at you," Bob blurted out when he could no longer stand the quiet. "We've never been mad at you; we don't blame you at all. Any of you. We know you did everything to save her. Louise."
"I don't think anyone could have blamed you for that," said Richards kindly as Linda returned carrying a large tray with a pot of coffee and several mugs. Bob stood up, pulling up his trousers, and went to help her.
"We saw it with our own eyes," Bob clarified. "We all saw how hard you worked, and we can't thank you enough."
"Thank you, Mr Belcher," said Charlie.
Again, they all fell silent, until Linda began pouring the coffee. In order to make it easier for everyone, she had placed a small jug of milk, and a little cup of sugar on the tray, so that everyone could help themselves. She had also put out a plate of cookies, too.
"This coffee is really good." Tim took a sip appreciatively.
"Thank you," Linda resumed her seat.
"When is the trial?" asked Richards.
"We're not too sure, but they'll let us know," Bob said. He sat back on the sofa, tightening his belt another notch. "I don't know how this whole giving evidence thing works; you'd have to speak to our lawyer. I'll give you his number."
"Okay."
They didn't discuss the trial for much longer, as none of them knew for sure what was going to happen. The Belchers tried not to think about it too much; the idea of Logan possibly walking free was unbearable. If that happened, Bob didn't think he could be held accountable for his actions. He didn't think it would happen; it was plain as day that Logan caused all of this, and they couldn't just let him walk free. Could they? His family were rich, they could probably afford the best lawyer in New Jersey. What if the jury thought that Louise deserved it? What if the judge took bribes?
Bob shook his head and tried to get rid of those thoughts, which wasn't as easy as he hoped. He barely heard what their guests were saying, as those horrible worries raced around in his head. He wasn't too sure of how much time had passed when the four men got up to leave, and he stood, shaking his head once again.
"Thank you again for the coffee and cookies, Mrs Belcher," Richards put his hat back on his head.
"No problem," Linda and Bob walked down the stairs after them.
"We'll probably see you soon," said Davis at the front door. "If not, good luck for the next month. I'm sure it will go all right."
They all bade one another goodbye, before they left, and Bob and Linda went back upstairs. Sitting back on the sofa, Linda pulled Gene in for a tight hug, resting her cheek on his head, while Bob did the same to Tina.
"How long will Logan go to prison for?" asked Tina.
"I don't know," said Linda.
"Will he be locked up forever?"
"No, sweetie," Linda admitted, and Tina sat up, as did Gene.
"Why not? He should be," Gene said.
"He's been charged with something act manslaughter, and they said he won't be put away for life," Bob told them, and Tina frowned.
"It's not fair," she muttered.
"You're right," Linda agreed, putting an arm around both Tina and Gene, holding them close. Tina was right. It wasn't fair how Logan had ended someone's life, yet he could be free to continue to live his in perhaps just a few short years. It felt very cruel to them. Even 100 years wouldn't be long enough; life in prison wouldn't be long enough. Besides, even if Logan somehow magically did end up getting life in prison, he was still alive; his parents didn't have to bury him, they would be free to visit him whenever they wished.
"How will they decide?" asked Gene.
"They need to prove that he wanted to hurt her," was all Bob said.
"Maybe I'll be a lawyer when I grow up," said Tina thoughtfully. "Then I can change things like this."
Bob and Linda caught each other's gaze over the tops of their children's heads.
"That's a nice idea," Bob said, kissing her forehead.
Now it was the summer holidays, and even though the restaurant was packed practically every single day, Tina and Gene still managed to get at least one day off a week. They usually spent it in the apartment, but today, they were going to do something different. Today, they had Teddy helping out, as he was only too glad to do, so it wasn't like they were leaving their parents high and dry.
Tina quickly wrote a note and left it on the coffee table, just in case someone came to check on them and found the apartment empty, before she and Gene left, and began walking down the street.
They spoke very little as they walked, paying no mind to the many people around them. They hadn't yet really gone out since school finished, except to Louise's grave, but that wasn't where they were going.
It was a hot day, and Tina's clothes were still feeling a little too tight. By the time they had reached their destination, she was sweating more than usual, and she wiped her forehead on her arm.
The two of them stood in front of the slightly battered door for a few moments, before Tina reached up and knocked. There came some muffled, good natured yelling, and a tall, burly man answered the door.
"Yeah?" he looked down at them. "Hey, kids," he smiled. "What y'all doin' here?"
"We were wondering if we could speak to Zeke." Tina was now realising that it would have been better to call ahead and see if he was actually in first. Zeke was probably out somewhere with Jimmy Jr.
"Sure thing." Travis took a step back, and looked behind him. "Zeke! Visitors!"
When Zeke had arrived, Travis left them alone.
"Hey, T-Bird, Gene," Zeke smiled.
"Hi, Zeke," said Tina.
"Hi," Gene added.
"We just wanted to thank you," Tina told him, and Zeke looked confused.
"For what?"
"Everything. You made sure no one bothered us; you still do; you helped get all the food and stuff ready, and you didn't force us into being around people. It really helped us."
"I just wanted to do whatever I could to help," Zeke shrugged modestly
"You helped a lot," said Gene, and he and Tina simultaneously pulled Zeke into a hug, which he heartily returned.
"Are y'all free today, or not?" he asked when they had released him. "Wanna go for a walk down by the beach? Reckon it might not be too busy," he continued, when Tina had confirmed both she and Gene had the whole day off.
"Uhhh," Tina looked down at the ground, unsure of what to say. "Sure," she said, before she could change her mind. "That would be great." Perhaps going out and doing normal kid stuff would make them feel better. If she didn't make this first step, would she ever?
"Great." Zeke closed the door behind him, and the three of them headed off to the beach.
It wasn't bad, Tina thought, walking along the boardwalk, and then on the sand. Now that they were on the beach, there was a nice cool breeze, which certainly helped her swampy pits. Things almost felt normal. There were kids running, chasing each other, building sandcastles. Adults were chatting and sunbathing, and excited shrieks and chattered carried over from the nearby Wharf. It all looked so picturesque. "Did y'all hear about the fight that broke out in Fresh Feed last week?" asked Zeke as they walked along the sand.
"No, what happened?" Tina asked.
"Not too sure; I weren't there, but Jay-Ju said that there was a huge fight between two guys in the dairy aisle. Somethin' about one of them wantin' the last somethin'-or-other, and the other guy didn't wanna give it away. So, they got into a huge fist fight."
"Sounds crazy," said Gene, and Zeke nodded.
"Tell me about it," he chuckled. "I've never known two guys to fight over milk, or whatever it was!"
They found a quiet corner and sat down in a little circle. "How's the restaurant doin'?"
"It's busy," said Tina. "But Teddy is helping out, and so Mom and Dad said we could have the day off."
"That's good. If y'all ever need somethin' to do on your days off, let me know. I'm up for most anythin'."
"Okay," nodded Tina. She supposed that it wouldn't be too bad to have someone to spend time with. It would probably keep them busy and distracted, which was what she wanted.
Tina reached out and began tracing swirls in the sand. She liked the way it felt. "Thanks for asking us to come here," she said, forcing herself to look at Zeke. "I think it was a good idea."
"It's all right; I like goin' to the beach, even if it's by myself. It's nice."
Tina turned her gaze up to the sky; it looked too blue to be real, she thought. Even the few white clouds that dotted the sky seemed to be too white, too fluffy. She couldn't really understand it.
"It is nice," she agreed after a while.
"I like the beach," said Gene. He was really making an effort to speak more often, and not just when he was spoken to, and he was getting better at it. Tina could tell he wasn't happy, though. She knew because he had crawled into her bed last night, which he hadn't done for a while. He offered no explanation when she had asked, but Tina didn't mind.
Zeke nodded in agreement, and stretched his legs out, leaning back on his hands. Tina began scooping the sand in front of her up into a little dome, and soon enough, Gene and Zeke joined in. The sand was too dry and soft to properly make a castle, and none of them wanted to move closer to the shore, so they had to settle for making a small group of domes.
"Look like bubbles, don't they?" asked Zeke, and Tina nodded. She began absent-mindedly digging a small hole, and then another. "Now ya got sinkholes!" Zeke joked.
Tina attempted a smile in reply, and the three of them continued to make domes and dig holes.
"Thanks again," said Tina a few hours later when they parted ways. Despite them only sitting on the sand (and digging through it), it had somehow managed to get inside their shoes, and under their clothes. They would all be shedding like some kind of sand monsters as they walked home.
"No problem; I'm glad we went, otherwise I'da just stayed inside all day."
"Us, too," Tina said, brushing sand from her skirt.
"Like I said, I could do this again, if y'all wanna. Might as well do somethin' to pass the time, right?"
"Right," Tina agreed. They were stood on the edge of the beach, and she glanced over at the sparkling ocean, with its swimmers and divers and boats. "That would be great."
"Well, be seein' ya both." Zeke waved goodbye, and set off down the street, while the Belcher kids went the opposite way.
"That was fun, right?" asked Tina, now feeling grateful for the late afternoon breeze. "Maybe next time we have a day off, we'll do it again."
"Yeah," said Gene quietly, his gaze fixed on the ground. He opened his mouth, then closed it, clearly struggling to say something. "Maybe we could bring a bucket and spade." He didn't look up; it looked as though it had taken him a great deal of effort to say that, and Tina put her arm around his shoulders, and they continued walking home.
A few evenings later, Tina sat next to Gene on the sofa, waiting for their parents to come in, laden down with drinks and popcorn, to put a movie on.
Every now and then, her eyes flitted to the screen, watching the commercials with their bright colours and overenthusiastic narrators, when she saw something bright green hop onto the screen.
"He was too much of a free spirit," began the narration, as the green shape was shown getting into all sorts of trouble; at home, at spirit school, even on the street. Tina could tell it was an anime by the way the characters' mouths moved. "But he will soon discover... that only he... can save the world!" The funny little green creature soon found himself on a quest, travelling through beautifully animated meadows, and a creepy, dark forest, battling familiar looking creatures all the way. "He's about to learn the meanings of friendship, bravery, and loyalty, and how far he's willing to go... to save the ones he loves. Brand new, The Adventures of Kuchi Kopi, based on the best-selling book series, coming soon!"
'Better tape that for Louise,' Tina thought. 'Gonna need to find a blank tape.' Then it hit her. Tina sat up straight, and started sobbing hysterically.
"Tina?" Gene moved toward her, but Linda, ears honed from years of experience, got there first, and she came running in.
"Tina?! Tina, what's the matter, sweetie?" Linda flew to her daughter, and wrapped her arms around her. Tina was crying too heavily to get her words out, and so she could only gesture at the television. Linda looked, but the advert had finished, and Bob came running in. "What is it? Tell Mommy."
"We – we need to tape it!" Tina gasped and heaved, her face red. "If we don't, Louise will never get to see it, and she'd love it! She'd love it so much! But she'll never get to watch it!" Big, fat tears ran down her cheeks, and her eyes looked even more magnified than usual.
Linda used the hem of her shirt to gently wipe Tina's wet eyes, her running nose and dribbling mouth, rocking her shaking daughter as she wailed. Gene had moved onto the sofa, and was rubbing comforting circles on his sister's back.
Bob had knelt down in front of the sofa, taking Tina's hand.
"It's all right," Linda soothed.
"No, it's not all right, because it will be Louise's favourite thing, and she'd love it, and we have to tape it, but we can't tape it, and she can't ever watch it because she's dead!" Tina bawled, burying her head into Linda's chest.
"What do you mean? Tape what?" Linda asked.
"The show! Louise is gone, and she'll never get a chance to watch the show, and she needed to watch it, because it'll be her favourite thing, and it's not fair!"
Bob and Linda, still confused, could only do their best to soothe her, while she broke down.
When Tina had thoroughly cried herself raw, she fell asleep, her head pressed into Linda's chest.
"What happened?" Linda whispered to Gene, still cradling Tina's head. Gene didn't answer, and instead looked at the television. "Gene, sweetie?"
"Kuchi Kopi show," he muttered, glancing over at them.
"What?" asked Bob.
"Kuchi Kopi show," Gene repeated. "On the TV."
Bob only nodded and patted Gene's arm.
When Linda was sure that Tina was well and truly asleep, she gently picked her up, and put her to bed, removing her shoes. Tucking her daughter in and removing her glasses, Linda kissed her on the forehead, before going back into the living-room.
"Poor baby; she needed that," said Linda quietly, sitting down next to Gene, so that he was in between his parents.
"I think some sleep will be good for her," said Bob, and he picked up the remote and pressed play.
While they were never ones to go crazy with censoring movies and TV shows, Bob and Linda now had to be careful what they watched. Not just for their kids, but for them. Any movie featuring a death scene was unwatchable, even more so when it concerned a child. They just couldn't deal with it at that point in time. Unfortunately, that meant that most of their favourites remained on the shelf, gathering dust; "Beetlejuice", "Titanic", even "Tremors" were now ignored in favour of light-hearted happy movies. That night's offering was "Mary Poppins."
As the film started, they began to munch on the popcorn, keeping their eyes glued to the screen.
"I think we need a new washing machine," said Linda about halfway through the film.
"How come?" Bob rubbed his eye and looked at her.
"I think my clothes have shrunk; my jeans definitely have," Linda again tugged at the waistband. "Some of my tops are a little tight, too."
"That's weird. My clothes haven't shrunk, though." Bob pulled at his shirt. "What about you, Gene?"
"Mine feel a little tight," he said.
"How come yours have shrunk, and mine haven't?" asked Bob. "It's like mine have grown. Look, the sleeves come down past my elbows; maybe there is something wrong with the machine."
But Linda was looking at him. "What?"
"Oh, Bobby, it's not the machine. It's us," she said sadly. "I've been eating a lot more than usual. What about you?"
"I -" Bob looked down at himself, and everything suddenly clicked. The increasing need to tighten his (not Linda's, he realised) belts, the knowledge that Linda hadn't been mistakenly buying his clothes a size too big. The fact that he couldn't remember when he had last eaten a full meal. "We're terrible," he said.
"We're not terrible!" said Linda, and for a moment, Bob could have sworn he heard the old Linda, the one that had life in her voice. He'd forgotten how much he missed it. "I've been grazing a lot. Even when it's busy in the restaurant, I'm always sneaking fries. I guess eating keeps me busy," her voice lowered. "If I'm eating, then I'm not drinking."
"I've been eating a lot, too," Gene admitted. "I just wanna stop feeling empty."
"I haven't been caring," said Bob quietly. "I don't care whether I eat or not. I guess this is something to work on, right?"
"Yeah, I guess," Linda looked over at him. "I don't know how, though."
Upon hearing that, Bob realised he didn't either. He couldn't make himself eat, and he wasn't about to tell Linda and Gene to stop eating. That wasn't fair. He supposed it was one of those things that would get better in time. Bob did feel a little saddened that he had lost all passion for food; it was literally his livelihood.
"I don't know how, either," he said. "I guess we'll have to mention this, won't we? Maybe she can help."
"Doesn't seem to be anything else we can do," Linda muttered, and the three of them fell quiet, and resumed watching the movie. There was no immediate obvious solution, so there was no point in them trying to figure it out. At least, not at that moment.
Tina didn't awaken until the next morning, feeling somehow even more exhausted than she should have. Sitting up, she realised she was still in her clothes, and she grabbed her glasses from her nightstand and put them on. At first, it seemed like the house was empty, but she soon heard quiet voices.
Not bothering to put her shoes on, Tina left her bedroom and headed to the kitchen. Her parents and brother were there, and Linda was making breakfast, while Bob and Gene were sat at the table.
"Tina, are you okay?" Bob spotted her first, and Gene looked up as Tina remained in the doorway.
"Fine," said Tina, as she took a seat. Linda placed a plate of eggs and bacon in front of her, before doing the same to Bob and Gene.
Bob managed all of one bite before he'd had enough. It wasn't the food; Linda's sunny, runny, and a little bit funny eggs were always delicious, despite not being perfect. They'd always been perfect to him because they'd been made with love. No, it was the fact that everything tasted like cardboard now. But he thought about what had transpired the night before, and he forced himself to take another bite, and then another. The more he ate, he worse he felt, but Bob kept pushing himself until he had eaten almost half of what was on his plate. He would feel better soon, right?
"You still look pretty tired; maybe you should go back to bed," said Linda, worry creasing her face.
"I'm fine," Tina repeated, keeping her gaze on the table, ignoring her breakfast. She was fiddling with her fingers, and soon enough, a low groan began to escape from her lips.
"Tina? What is it, sweetie?" Linda bent down as Tina shook her head. "Talk to me; I can't help you if you don't tell me what's wrong."
"Nothing!" Tina only stopped groaning to answer, before she resumed making the sound.
But both Bob and Linda, and even Gene, could tell that there was something really bothering her. Her groaning was increasing in noise, her movements were quick and jerky, and she still wasn't looking at them. She glanced up to see them all staring at her, and quickly lowered her head once again.
Her parents and brother waited patiently, their breakfasts forgotten as they focused on Tina.
Bob and Linda weren't the type of parents to force their children to talk, but they could tell that Tina needed to talk about something, and it whatever it was, she was really struggling to get the words out.
"Come on, Tina," Bob said, "you can tell us."
Tina was getting very distressed; her hands were balled into fists and her face was reddening. "Tina, it's okay," Bob moved closer to her, and placed his hand on her shoulder. "Was it that commercial, 'cause it's okay to be upset over it."
"It's not that," said Tina hesitantly, her head down. Again, they all waited patiently for her. "I – I can't say."
"What is it?" asked Linda. "You can tell us anything, you know that."
"But I can't tell you this," she whispered.
"Why not?"
Tina only shook her head, and Linda moved in closer. She placed her hand on Tina's other shoulder, and began rubbing small comforting circles on it. "Come on, sweetie," she soothed. "It's okay."
It took a while, but Tina eventually lifted her head. Her eyes remained fixed on her lap, and her face crumpled briefly.
"That was the first time I'd cried over Louise, since she died," she whispered, lowering her head once again, and closing her eyes in shame.
That wasn't the answer they had been expecting, and for a moment, none of them knew quite what to say. "I'm sorry," she admitted.
"Oh, don't be sorry; you have nothing to be sorry for!" Linda immediately swept her up in a hug, with Bob and Gene soon following. Tina felt tears pricking her eyes, and she was unsure whether to let them fall or not. "It's okay," Linda assured her.
"I didn't say anything because I was afraid you'd think there was something wrong with me."
Now it was Bob and Linda's turn to get teary eyed, and they hugged their daughter tighter.
"There's nothing wrong with you." Bob lifted her chin. "Some people cry a lot, some don't cry at all, and some do both; there's no one way. You know you love Louise, so do we, and... so did she."
Besides, Tina had probably been far too busy to cry, he thought, the knowledge of that making him want to throw up.
"Look, Tina," Linda said, "we're all dealing with this differently, but we would never, ever think that about you, baby. We love you all so, so much, and we'd never think there was something wrong with you."
"I wanted to cry," said Tina. "I don't know why I couldn't. All those other people did, and they didn't even know her. I was afraid people would think I didn't care."
"Nobody would think that," Linda said, stroking Tina's hair. "It doesn't matter if you cry or not; you still loved her with all your heart, that's all that matters. Besides, look at what you did for her; you organised everything. Would you have done that if you didn't love her?"
Tina shrugged her shoulders, sniffing loudly, and her family hugged her even tighter.
"There's nothing wrong with you," Bob repeated. "There isn't a right way to deal with this."
Tina was still upset, so Bob and Linda unanimously decided to drop it. They each gave her a final hug, and returned to their breakfast. They knew that to keep repeating it wouldn't magically make her feel better; it would take time.
It made Bob feel awful to see her like that; she had obviously been keeping this inside for a long time, and it had made her feel like she couldn't tell them about it. That had been one of the few things he had prided himself on as a parent; he wasn't the best, and he could admit that, but his kids had always been able to come to him and/or Linda when they had some kind of problem (when they weren't scheming, that is), and so this was all new to him.
As he ate his now cold eggs and bacon, Bob knew exactly what he was going to do to make Tina feel better. He had initially decided to save this for later, but now, he was going to push it forward. She definitely deserved a treat, and it was the least he could do for her.
The following day, Bob and Tina were in the car, driving out of Seymour's Bay. The windows were down slightly, allowing a breeze to ruffle their hair, and the radio was on low, though none of them were paying any attention to it. Bob drove a lot more carefully than he had been lately, aware that his daughter was in the car with him; he actually paid attention to the stop signs and traffic lights.
Tina had her head resting on the back of the seat, looking out the window. She did wonder why it was just her and her dad; rarely did they spend one on one time together. Tina supposed that perhaps Linda and Gene didn't want to come to wherever they were going. She did feel it was a little strange, but she was too tired to properly think it through.
Tina soon became aware of fewer buildings and more trees, which got her attention.
"Where are we going?" she asked, tearing her eyes away to focus on her dad.
"Just for a drive," was all Bob said. Tina, in no mood to question, did not pursue the matter. She resumed staring out of the window, trying to enjoy the scenery. She still felt embarrassed about her reveal at the breakfast table, and she couldn't help but wonder if Bob was taking her to some kind of therapy. She still felt as though there was something seriously the matter with her mind. Honestly, what kind of psycho didn't cry for four months after the death of their sister? Not counting the day Louise died, of course.
Tina didn't realise that Bob had pulled off the main road until the car had stopped, and she looked around, recognising where she was.
"Why are we here?" she asked, as she and Bob got out of the car, and she gazed at the farm which was the residence of the two-butted goat.
"I just felt like seeing the farm. Remember the cranberry bog?"
"Oh, yeah." Her mouth twitched upon remembering his excitement.
They began to walk around the farm. Tina breathed in the smell of grass, straw, and the various scents of different animals. She could hear cows lowing, pigs snorting, chickens clucking, and even a dog barking in the distance. She could see these respective animals in their pens (minus the dog, which Tina couldn't see), going about their business. She could see a piglet chasing one of its siblings around its pen, with the sow soon joining in.
Approaching the fence in the middle of the farm, Tina saw Double Butt, and she leaned on the fence, watching him. Soon, Double Butt spied them and came over for attention. Bob and Tina petted him, and Tina found out that the goat enjoyed his ears being scratched, rather like a cat. "Silly boy," she muttered, as the goat tilted his head in appreciation.
"Wow, he is loving that," Bob observed, stroking the goat's back. "I've never seen a goat that likes that."
"Maybe it's his double butt," said Tina quietly, watching as the goat closed his eyes in contentment.
"Maybe," Bob agreed. He reached out and began to scratch Double Butt under his chin, and it was clear the goat was in a state of pure bliss.
When Double Butt had had his fill, Bob and Tina stepped away and continued walking around the farm. A little ways past the cranberry bog was a spacious, grassy paddock surrounded by a white fence.
Bob and Tina stopped by the fence, and Tina stared at the horses running around inside the paddock. Folding her arms on the top of the fence, Tina rested her head on her hands and gazed at the horses.
There were about seven or eight, all of them different colours and sizes. Tina seemed content to just stay and watch them, and Bob placed his hand on her shoulder, but said nothing.
"Nice, aren't they?" he asked after a while, and he felt Tina nod, straightening up.
"Which one's your favourite?"
Tina leaned forward, thoughtfully chewing on her lower lip.
"That one," she said, after a lot of consideration, pointing the palomino thoroughbred, the one with the white-blonde mane and tail. This horse had not only a certain beauty to him, with his beautiful, intelligent eyes, and the white stripe down the front of his face, but he also had a certain mischievous air about him. Tina liked the way this horse would playfully chase the others, and coerce them into playing, and he would pick up the toys available and throw them for himself to then catch, when the others no longer wanted to play.
"All right, then, you can have it," said Bob. Tina's hands slipped off the fence, and she turned to her dad, certain she'd misheard.
"What?" She stared up at him, wondering if she was dreaming. Did he actually just say those words?
"If you want that horse, he's yours."
Tina's jaw dropped, lost for words. She looked from her dad to the horse, and back again. Even though she knew that Bob would never tease her with something like this, she couldn't quite believe it. "I spoke with the farmer a while ago," Bob explained. A look of immense guilt flashed on his face. "I felt so bad at everything you had to do, and I wanted to do something to make it up to you, but nothing seemed good enough for what I put you through. I've always wanted to give you a horse, but I didn't think I could. So, I emailed the owner, and we came to an arrangement." He turned to face her properly and bent down. "That horse belongs to you now, but it's going to live here, because we don't have the space for it. You can't keep it in your bed," he joked feebly, noticing that Tina was still staring at him, agog. "You can come down whenever you want, and feed him, and ride him, and care for him. You get to do everything a real horse owner would do. The owner said that we're going halves on food and stables and everything."
Before Bob knew it, there was a sharp pain around his neck; Tina was hugging him tightly. Bob smiled; it was small, but it was real, and hugged her back. Too soon, he realised that Tina was inadvertently cutting off his air supply. It took him several attempts before he was able to remove her arms. He was sure he was bruised now.
"I -" Tina didn't know what to do; she was holding his hand tightly, and kept shaking her head in disbelief.
"Listen, you really deserve this," said Bob, standing up straight, lest his knees give way completely. "This is a thank you, the biggest thank you in the world. I know it's not much, and it won't make up for what you had to do, but I hope you can forgive me one day."
"There's nothing to forgive," said Tina sincerely, and Bob ducked his head, biting his lip. "You were just upset."
Bob, overwhelmed at this simple, childlike statement, bent down once again, hugging her, which Tina returned.
"Thanks, honey," he whispered upon releasing her. Tina smiled, again, small but real, and they both turned back to the horse. "What are you gonna call him?"
Tina observed the horse, who seemed to notice he was being watched, and he approached them. Tina reached out, and stroked his nose, and the horse whinnied softly. She looked into his eyes; filled with deep intelligence, along with a sparkle of cheekiness. He was a dream horse. He was like Jericho, if Jericho was real.
"Kopi," she said. Bob said not a word, but put his arm around her, hugging her closely.
After another difficult evening spent at Louise's graveside, the Belcher family sat together in the living-room. It always left them physically and mentally drained, with barely enough energy left to even focus on the television.
"I think she'll like the flowers." Linda's quiet voice broke through the silence. The rest of them nodded, picturing the bouquet of pink roses that they had left in a little pink and white marble pot at the bottom of the headstone.
Though the masses of bouquets left by sympathetic strangers had long diminished, there were still fresh flowers there that the Belchers had not brought. The letters that had been left all that time ago had been gathered up, and were resting in their special Louise photo album.
"Yeah, she loved flowers, especially pink roses," said Bob, his eyes cloudy. "She would be happy with them."
Tina leant against him, and he wrapped an arm around her, and put his other arm around Gene. He caught sight of Gene out of the corner of his eye, head down, his clasped hands resting on his knees, and another pang of guilt surged through him. Only now, had he noticed that these regular visits didn't seem to be doing Gene any good; his once vibrant, happy son, became even more withdrawn whenever they returned from the graveyard. Bob couldn't blame him; it wasn't exactly a happy place, but to him, not going there was unthinkable.
Perhaps he should try and talk to Gene, Bob thought, to try and see if he could help him. It was no secret that they weren't the closest, and Bob knew that his bond with his son would never be the same as Gene and Linda's, but he wanted to at least try and reach out.
Bob got his chance the very next day when they had closed up for the evening and were relaxing after a hard days' work. Gene had retreated to his bedroom, unusual for him, and so Bob had taken his chance, and went to his son's room.
Gene was sitting cross-legged on his bed, looking down at his blanket.
"Knock, knock," said Bob as he entered. "Can I come in?"
"Sure."
As Bob walked over to the bed, he noticed that Gene had the Louise photo album. It was closed, but Gene's finger was gently running along the edge.
"I like to look at the pictures, too," said Bob, as he sat down on the bed, gesturing to the album. Gene nodded, but didn't open the book. Gene bit his lip and glanced to the window.
"You were nice to Tina," he blurted out suddenly, and Bob looked confused.
"Uh, what? We're always nice, aren't we?"
"I mean, when she told you her secret."
Bob was too shocked at Gene speaking the most he had in four months to really register what he was saying, but he soon realised what Gene meant. He and Linda hadn't judged Tina, and Bob knew that Gene also had something he needed to get off his chest. Just as he had done with Tina, he waited patiently.
In time, Gene opened the photo album, and looked at the pictures. Bob did so, as well; when was it going to not hurt so much when he saw her face? "I had a bad dream last night," Gene said quietly, not looking up from the album.
"What about?" asked Bob. Gene pointed to the picture of Louise, and Bob moved closer to him. "You wanna tell me about it?"
"It was her in the coffin," Gene whispered, shooting an upset glance at his father, before returning his gaze to the album. "She was just lying there; it was scary."
A small part of Bob felt glad that Gene was so willing to talk, and another small part felt terrible for what his child was going through.
"I'm sorry," Bob said, though he didn't know what he was sorry for. "If you have that dream again, you can come into our bed, you know that, right?"
"Yeah," Gene nodded. "I dream that all the time," he admitted. "I don't like it."
Bob didn't know quite what to say that, so he remained silent.
"I wish I could make them stop," Bob said, after a while. He supposed every parent felt irrationally guilty when their child had a nightmare; he and Linda certainly did. He hated seeing his kids frightened, and not being able to do a thing about it except put them in his bed, and he and Linda (or more often, Linda) would hug them until they had calmed down. There wasn't anything he could do to prevent bad dreams, which he hated.
"Me, too." Gene began to fiddle with his blanket. "I didn't like seeing her." He lifted his head, looking Bob in the eye. "I didn't like seeing her like that."
"Like what?"
"Like in my dream, but when we really saw her like that," Gene clarified. His eyes flitted back down to the album. "It was scary."
"Gene, I – I'm so sorry," said Bob, looking extremely upset. "I should have given you kids the choice."
"If I could have, I would have stayed at home; seeing her like that was too scary." Gene hesitated. "I wanted to remember her the way she was."
Bob hugged him tightly, feeling like he could never do this enough.
"I'm sorry; I should have asked. I shouldn't have made you go; you're too young for that."
"It's okay," Gene said, embracing his father. "Maybe if I didn't go, I would've regretted it."
Bob scanned the room, searching for something to help cheer Gene up.
"When was the last time you played your keyboard?" He asked, noting the dusty instrument lying on the shelf. "I know I can't change what I did, and I wish I could, but maybe playing would help you feel better? It might be a good distraction?"
"I don't want to," said Gene. "I don't feel like it."
"... Okay," said Bob. "I won't force you." He never realised how much he'd missed hearing Gene's music before. He was struck with a sudden need to thrust the keyboard into Gene's hands, and hope he would play something. "What do you think about..." he leant down and whispered the rest in Gene's ear.
"What for?"
"Well, Tina had her treat, and it's time for yours. Would you want to do that?"
"Not right now; I don't really feel like doing anything."
"That's okay; I can understand that. You can do that whenever you want. You don't even have to do that; your treat can be whatever you want. Within reason," he added, knowing that he couldn't give Gene what he really wanted, which was what they all wanted.
"Thanks, Dad," Gene leaned forward and hugged Bob once again.
The burger phone rang, and Bob stretched over to answer it. That old feeling of dread they used to get whenever the phone rang had long dissipated, now that it was not possible for reporters to contact them any more. As there was only a very small amount of people who could reach them now, they had no qualms about plugging the phone back in.
"Hello?" Bob listened for a moment, and then sat up straight. "Yeah? Oh, okay. Thanks for telling us, we'll see you then. Okay, bye. Bye." He hung up the phone, and turned to his family. "That was Mr Radcliffe; our lawyer. He said the trial's in two weeks."
"Oh, wow," said Linda, her jaw dropping slightly. "That soon?"
"Yeah." Bob felt slightly shaky. "I guess we're gonna have to make some arrangements; you know, about who's gonna come, and who's gonna look after the kids."
"We're not coming?" asked Tina, and Linda shook her head.
"Absolutely not," she said. "You're far too young, and it'll be upsetting."
"But – you let us see Louise, and that was upsetting," Tina said quietly. Linda wasn't quite sure what to say to that.
"I know, but that was a chance to let you say goodbye to her, but this is different," she explained. She leaned forward and rested her clasped hands on her legs, staring at the carpet. "Even if we wanted you to come, you couldn't; you're too young. It's not our decision," she continued when Tina had opened her mouth, "it's the law; you're both under eighteen, so you have to stay home."
Tina nodded, feeling disappointed. She wasn't too sure why she wanted to go to the trial; she would only end up seeing and hearing things she didn't want to, things that would probably stay with her for the rest of her days. But wasn't that better than constantly wondering?
"Should we go visit Louise tomorrow?" Bob's voice broke into her thoughts. "Tell her what's happening?"
"Sure," Tina whispered.
The following evening, and they were back at the cemetery, walking to Louise's grave, for the third time that week. This time, they had brought some stuff for her, all of which resided in large tote bag resting on Bob's shoulder.
When they had reached the grave, Bob set the bag down silently, and unloaded the items inside. Together, he and his family began to arrange everything around the headstone. Bob picked up the solar light, the one Linda had recently bought that was shaped like a shepherd's crook, with a lantern hanging off it. He placed it in the ground next to Louise's headstone, adjusting it so that the front of the crook was facing them, and the light would reflect off the polished marble. It was tall enough that the top of the crook rose slightly above the bunny ears.
Linda bent down and started to organise the roses that had been put there a few days previous, making sure there were no gaps, and giving the flowers a fresh drink of water.
Tina picked up the rabbit figurine and began to clean it with the little cloth she always brought with her, while Gene picked up the new china Kuchi Kopi ornament they had brought and gently placed it on the shelf. He moved it along so that it was sitting next to the little grey rabbit, therefore making sure the writing on the headstone could still be seen.
When they had finished, they all took a few steps back and examined their handiwork. They were determined that Louise's grave would not fall into disarray, like some others they had seen; no, they were going to keep it looking nice and well cared for. Fresh flowers on one side of the shelf, the two little figurines on the other side, all clean and nicely maintained. There were no sweet wrappers, no dead flowers, or clumps of dried grass, and now the new solar light was set into the ground, so that it wouldn't be too dark for her.
If they ignored what they were really doing, and who they were doing it for, it could be agreed that the site looked.. nice. It was hard to feel any pride in it, though, but all they could do was keep visiting and carry on making it look nice.
Bob put his arm around Gene, squeezing him.
"You okay?" he muttered, and Gene nodded, staring at the headstone.
In slow, quiet voices that shook slightly, they talked to Louise; they told her how much they missed her; they told her they loved her, and they told her all about the trial, and that they were going to fight for justice.
When they got home, Bob silently cried himself to sleep in bed, his hand clenched around Louise's T-shirt that he kept under his pillow.
"Hey, wake up, old man! This is no time for sleeping!"
Bob jolted awake, and gasped. He was sitting on the sofa in the living-room, and standing in front of him was Louise.
"Louise!" It really was her; she was really there, in the flesh. She was smiling, her bunny ears standing tall. There was this aura about her, like she was backlit, but she looked so happy and healthy and here, and it made Bob want to cry. "You're here," he choked. He wanted to hug her, to sweep her up in his arms and never let her go, but the sight of actually seeing her there in front of him, made him feel almost paralysed.
"Of course; where else would I be?" Then her face softened. "Dad, I'm okay. Honest."
"Really?"
"Yeah. I see you guys all the time."
"You do?" Bob asked thickly, tears streaming down his face.
"I always watch," she said.
"Come back, Louise. Please," he begged.
"I can't."
"Why not?"
"I don't know how it works," she said honestly. She stared up at him for a moment. "Dad, you need to be happy."
"I can't. I can't without you," he wiped his eyes.
"Well, try," she sighed, moving closer. "I don't wanna be all, 'I'll always be with you,' blah, blah, blah, but I will. Did you know that I can see you whenever I want?"
"Can you?"
"Yeah, and I can fly," she smiled, and the sight of her happy face made Bob cry even harder. "Anyway, I want you guys to be happy again. It's no fun watching you guys all mope around all the time."
"We miss you. We miss you so much."
"I miss you, too." She looked earnest, and then slightly awkward. "If it makes you feel any better, I'm happy."
"You are?" That made him feel a tiny bit better.
"Yep, I feel fine and everything." She paused. "Grandma's up here."
Bob straightened up.
"My Mom?" The tears came thicker and faster.
"Mm-hm," Louise nodded. "She's been looking after me. She's nice."
"She was the nicest person in the whole world," Bob sniffled. "Can I see her?"
"Um, not right now," said Louise after a moment, and Bob nodded dejectedly. "Like I said, I don't know how it all works."
"Will I ever get to see her?"
"Probably." Another awkward look crossed her face. "I wouldn't know how to organise that."
"It's okay. I'm just glad to see you. What – what's it like up there?"
".. It's nice," said Louise, after a moment. "It's not, like, fluffy clouds and stuff, but it looks like a gold city. I live with Grandma."
"And you're both happy?"
"Yeah; she has a nice house."
"What do you do there?" Bob found his curiosity piqued. Louise paused, looking up at the ceiling.
"There lot's of kids to play with," she said, looking back at him. "But it's not the same as playing with Gene and Tina. I spent a lot of time with Grandma, and I watch you guys. There's a lot to do here."
"I'm glad you finally got to meet her," Bob whispered. "She would have just adored you kids."
"Yeah," Louise nodded. "Okay, well I have to go now."
"No!" Bob started sobbing again. "Don't leave! You can't leave us again! It's not fair!"
"I live there now," Louise looked back up. "I'll try and come back soon."
Still crying, Bob finally found the strength to hold out his arms, and Louise hugged him tightly. He could actually feel her arms around him, could feel her warm cheek against his, her hair tickling his face. Not breaking the hug, he pulled her onto his knee, holding her close. She leaned into him, resting her head against his chest.
"I love you, Louise," he told her, looking into her eyes. "I love you so much, and I'm so sorry."
"I love you, too," she said, and he held her tighter. ".. It wasn't your fault; I don't blame you."
For a long time, they just sat there, hugging, Bob rocking her slightly.
"... Goodbye, Louise," he said eventually, knowing that he would have to say it sooner or later. It felt like a dagger in his heart.
"Goodbye, Daddy."
Upon hearing that, Bob closed his eyes, as fresh tears fell down his face. He felt her place a kiss on his cheek, and slide off his lap, and through his closed eyes, he saw the light in the room grow brighter. When he opened his eyes, she was gone, and he was alone.
Bob sat up with a gasp. He knew in his heart and soul that it hadn't been a dream. Louise really had come to say goodbye. He reached over and shook Linda.
"Lin. Lin, wake up!" he whispered. He felt under his pillow for Louise's T-shirt.
"Huh, what? What?" Linda sat up, and fumbled for the lamp switch, reaching for her glasses in the process.
"Lin, I saw Louise!" Bob gasped when she had turned around to face him. "She was here; she hugged me. I felt her!"
"What?"
"She said goodbye, and she said I needed to be happy."
"Bobby..." Linda was staring at him, and Bob began to feel slightly worried. She probably thought he had finally lost it. Now he felt bad. As if she didn't have enough to be dealing with right now, he had to go and terrify her. "I had the same dream!"
"Really?" Bob's heart was pounding, unable to believe what he was experiencing.
"Yeah! She told me to be Linda again. Did she tell you she's with your mom?"
"Yeah, she did. Oh, my God." Bob covered his mouth with his hands. "She really came to see us." It was the only explanation he could think of; what were the odds of him and Linda having the exact same dream at the same time? It was just too coincidental.
Besides, even if it was the biggest coincidence in the world, Bob preferred to believe it was true; it made him feel a little bit peaceful to know (or believe) that Louise was happy, healthy, and free of pain. She was with his mother, so she wasn't alone, and she didn't blame him for what had happened. Of course, that last one didn't make him feel better; he would probably always feel guilty, but now he didn't seem to hate himself so much.
He was still pondering this, when the bedroom door opened and Tina came in.
"Mom, Dad?" she began hesitantly. "I just had a dream about Louise."
Bob and Linda exchanged glances. "I dreamt that she came to say goodbye, and she missed me, and she loved me." Tina paused. "It seemed so real."
"Sweetie, me and your dad had the same dream," Linda revealed, and Tina's eyes widened.
"You did?"
"Yes -" but Linda was cut off by the arrival of Gene. He shuffled into the room, but his eyes were darting about everywhere, as though looking for something. He looked more alert and together than he had for.. well, probably weeks, if not months.
"I had a dream about Louise," he said. "A good one; she said goodbye, and told me she loved me."
Now, Bob felt as though he would collapse if he stood up. This was so surreal.
"We all had the same dream at the same time," he realised. "It must be real. She wanted to help us."
"She told me to play music again," said Gene, and they all looked at him.
"That's so sweet," whispered Linda. "Aw, she must miss your music. I do, too."
"Louise told me to write; write more stories, I mean," Tina clarified, as she and Gene climbed onto their parents' bed.
"We all miss hearing your stories," said Linda, shuffling over to give her kids room. Tina and Gene crawled under the blankets, nestled in between their parents, and as Bob lay down, one hand curled up and held on to the small green T-shirt. It was a bit of a tight squeeze, but Bob and Linda didn't mind; they hadn't done this since last Thanksgiving, when there had been that power cut. Although each child had insisted that they weren't afraid, they had all ended up snuggled in their parents' bed.
Though none of them said it, there was a gap, physically and mentally; Louise had always insisted on positioning herself right in the middle, although on some occasions, she preferred to sleep next to her dad. Gene and Tina had subconsciously left this gap in the middle of the bed, on instinct. Even when they had realised, they still left the gap there. It just felt right.
Whether or not it had been a dream, and even though they all felt like a huge weight had been lifted from their collective chests, the Belchers had not healed, and they probably never would completely.
But they felt better than they had in ages, and for that, they were thankful.
~ X ~
Done. What did you think? I know the ending may seem a little cheesy, but admittedly, I liked it, so I wanted to keep it in.
I'm leaving it ambiguous as to whether it was a dream or not; it can be whatever you want it to be :)