Chapter 14
When the Belchers arrived home, it was with heavy hearts. They could hear chattering coming from upstairs, and they remained just inside the door, trying to work up the courage and energy to go up.
They entered the living-room to find the kids and Gayle engrossed in Snakes and Ladders. The floor was scattered with other board games, pens and paper, DVDs, and some of Tina's horse toys.
They stood there silently, watching them play, not wanting to interrupt. Linda didn't even want to be there; she'd been so tempted to just go to the cemetery and spend the night with her baby.
At first, Tina, Gene, and Gayle didn't notice them standing in the doorway; they were far too engrossed in their game. Tina was actually winning, with Gene very close behind her; it was so tense that Gayle had her hands pressed to her mouth and was almost holding her breath. Tina rolled the dice and groaned loudly.
"No, I was so close!" She slumped as she moved her token forward, and then rode down the snake all the way to the bottom of the board.
"Bad luck, T." Gene reached over and patted her shoulder, before taking up the dice himself and rolling them. He gasped, before moving his token to the end, therefore winning the game.
"Great job," said Tina, before stretching and noticing her family. "Mom! Dad!" She stood up and rushed over to them, with Gene following. The two of them ran straight into their parents arms, hugging them. Looking into her father's eyes, Tina could see that he didn't look happy at all, and she was afraid to ask.
"What happened?" said Gene eventually, and Tina bit her lip.
"He got ten years," revealed Bob, and his children's jaws dropped, as did Gayle's, who had stood up and walked over to them.
"What? How come?" asked Gene, releasing his mother, and looking down.
"Judge said that's the longest sentence he could give," said Linda. "They gotta give us $150,000, too."
"Who cares about the money?" Bob muttered. "He'll be out in ten years."
"That's not fair; they can't do that," said Tina quietly.
"You're right, honey, it's not," said Big Bob. "I wish we could make him be locked up for life, but we can't."
"I don't want him to get out of prison," said Gene, looking the spitting image of a kicked puppy. "I want him to stay there forever and forever."
"So do we." Big Bob put his hand on Gene's shoulder. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see how upset his family were getting, so he quickly changed the subject. "What other games have you been playing?" He sat down on the floor, and Gene and Tina joined him, appreciating his act of distraction.
Gayle, Al, and Gloria had to leave after a few hours, but Big Bob stayed, planning to spend the night. He stayed down on the floor and played games with Gene and Tina; he showed Tina how to get a better hang on Monopoly, and he built a card castle with Gene.
Bob and Linda sat pressed up together on the sofa, watching Big Bob play with their kids, but not really seeing him. Bob glanced over at Linda as she crossed and uncrossed her legs for what seemed to be the hundredth time in less than hour, but said nothing. His eyes flitted to the television, but he didn't register what he was seeing, and he looked back at the kids. Linda's swinging leg kept bumping into his own leg, and he took her hand, but couldn't look at her as she rested her head on his shoulder. He forced himself to loosen his grip, not wanting to hurt her, and placed a kiss on the top of her head.
"I have to go," Bob muttered after about an hour or so, standing up and pulling on his jacket.
"Where are you going?" Linda looked up, as did Big Bob.
"Just going for a walk; I'll be back soon." Bob didn't look back as he left the apartment and got into his car.
He pulled up outside a bar he'd never been to, and made his way inside, ignoring the flashing lights, the tightly packed drunken crowds, the pounding music. Sitting down at the bar, he buried his head in his hands, digging his nails into his scalp and squeezing his eyes shut. The loud dance music, along with the excited shrieking and chattering of the much younger patrons, did nothing to block out the thoughts of self-loathing that swam around his head.
The bartender approached him and he choked out a drink order. Only when it arrived did he open his eyes and he downed it, before requesting another one.
The drinks kept coming, and Bob felt worse and worse with every swig, just as he knew he would, but he didn't care. He wanted to feel bad; he deserved it.
With every swallow, all he could think about was his baby. 'I failed you, Louise.' Gulp. 'I'm so sorry.' Gulp. 'I should have got him locked up for life.' Gulp.
He suddenly saw her grave in his mind, and almost threw up. How was he ever supposed to visit her again, when hadn't been able to let her killer be properly punished? She must hate him.
Bob's eyes filled with tears, and he gestured for another drink.
Back at home, Linda paced anxiously in the kitchen, phone pressed to her ear.
"Pick up, Bobby. Please," she muttered. Taking a deep breath, she used her free hand to open the cupboard, and pulled out some cookies. "Pick up," she repeated, frantically shovelling the cookies into her mouth. She made sure to keep her voice down so as not to worry Gene and Tina, and she was grateful that Big Bob was still there, keeping them busy. When Bob hadn't answered, she sent him a text, before immediately calling him back once again. She continued to pace, chewing her lower lip. Her free hand began tapping against her leg, and she took a few more deep breaths. "Where are you?" she whispered, keeping one eye on the door, should her children walk in. They'd been through enough; she didn't want to scare them.
Bob heard his phone ringing; he pulled it out and saw that Linda was calling him. He put the phone back on the table, and when it had rung out, he put it on mute, placing it back in his pocket. He then ordered another drink, and then another one.
Linda was still pacing when Big Bob entered the room.
"Any luck?" he murmured, and Linda shook her head. "I'm sure he'll come back soon," he said comfortingly.
"But he's been gone for hours!" Linda threw her free hand in the air, and Big Bob walked over to her, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder.
"I think I might know where he went."
"Where?"
"I think he might have gone to visit Louise," said Big Bob, and Linda stared at him. She sat down heavily at the table.
"You're probably right," she said, finally putting the phone down. "But why wouldn't he tell me?"
"I don't know," Big Bob admitted, sitting down beside her. "I really don't. Maybe he just wanted to be alone. I can't really blame him, though." He shifted his chair closer to her, and glanced at the door before directing his attention to Linda. "He probably just needs to get his head together."
"Should we go get him?" Linda asked in a small voice, sounding more like a child than the wife and mother she was. Big Bob put his arm around her. He looked down at the table.
"I think maybe we should wait a while. Maybe wait 'til the kids are asleep, or give it an hour. He probably just wants to be with her."
"I wanna be there with her, too, and I want Bobby here with me," Linda whined, leaning into Big Bob.
"When the kids are asleep, I'll go get him, okay?" said Big Bob, and Linda nodded.
He did just that when Gene and Tina went to bed a short while later. After Linda assured him that she would be fine, he got into his car, and drove to the cemetery. Using the street lights, and his phone's flash light to guide him, he soon came upon Louise's grave. Momentarily, he was rendered speechless when he saw it. The coverage of the trial had enticed many strangers to, again, leave flowers around her marker. Big Bob would never not be floored by the compassion of these kind people.
Crouching down, he gently touched one of the bouquets and his eyes shifted to the pink marble headstone. "Hey, sweetie," he whispered. "Sorry we couldn't get him locked up for good."
Slowly, it dawned upon him that the reason he had travelled there was missing. He straightened up and looked around. No sign of Bob. That was alarming. Big Bob pulled out his phone and dialled his son, looking at the headstone as he waited for Bob to answer. But, just like with Linda, he got no answer. He called again, and again got no answer. Now he was getting worried. If Bob wasn't here, as Big Bob was certain he'd be, then where was he?
Big Bob tried to mentally run through the places where his son could be, but his mind was blank. He began to pace just like Linda as he tried to think. He was so worried he couldn't think straight; Bob barely left the house any more, and so Big Bob couldn't imagine where he had got to.
Suddenly Big Bob froze. He knew where his son was. Saying a quick goodbye to Louise, he left the cemetery and hopped in his car.
Linda was sat on the sofa, one arm wrapped tightly around herself, and swinging her crossed leg. Her free hand was constantly dipping into the fruit bowl that was resting on her lap. If she was going to stress-eat, then it was better for her to eat healthy, right? Her eyes darted at the clock, her leg swinging even faster when she realised that Bob had been gone for over three hours. She took an orange from the bowl and began peeling it, keeping on eye on the clock, and the other on her phone; she also kept one ear out for her children, and the other for the sound of the door opening or a car pulling up.
Every so often, she would make a jerky motion as if to pick up the phone, but then thought better off it; if she was busy calling Gayle, or Ginger, or Teddy, she might miss Bob calling her.
Besides, if Bob had gone to see them, they would have called. She was certain they would have. But... but her phone had been almost constantly buzzing with texts and calls from her friends and distant relatives, all consoling her about the verdict. Not a mention of Bob. Linda couldn't understand why they didn't let her know he was there. If he was.
Her phone rang at the same time she heard a car come to a stop outside the living-room window. As she picked up the phone, her head turned to the window, torn between wanting to get up and not wanting to. Eventually, she answered the phone and held it to her ear, while slowly standing.
"Hello?" She placed the fruit bowl on the sofa, but did not move toward the window. She heard the front door open.
"Hey, it's me," came Big Bob's voice. "Bob wasn't at the cemetery, but I think I know where he might be. I think he might have gone to a bar, so I'm gonna try and track him down."
"Okay," she said quietly, hearing loud, stumbling footsteps. "But I think he's home."
"Oh." Big Bob sounded surprised and a little tense. "Want me to come back?"
"Uh..." Linda glanced at the stairs, where she could see a staggering shadow slowly coming into view. "No, that's okay; I'll let him sleep it off."
"Okay, then," came Big Bob's voice. "If you want me to come over tomorrow, just let me know."
"I will. 'Night."
"'Night."
Linda hung up, and looked up in time to see Bob swaying in the doorway. It only took one look at him to know he was drunk; his unfocused, bloodshot eyes, his messy hair, and of course, his the alcohol on his breath, which she could already smell from where she was standing.
"Have you been drinkin'?" What a stupid question, she chastised herself. But she didn't know what else to say.
"Yes, I've been drinking. What do you think? Look at me." Bob held out his arms, before quickly grabbing the door frame again.
"Oh, Bobby, you really shouldn't be drinking so much; I haven't seen you drunk like this for ages." Her voice quietened down to a whisper. Bob threw her a withering look – a drunken withering look, nonetheless, but he'd never looked at her like that before, and she took a little step back.
"Well, can you blame me?! Louise is still dead, and that... asshole is only getting ten years! So what if I'm drunk?! I'll drink if I want to!"
"Bobby, you need to go to bed. Come on; I'll help you." Linda reached out, but Bob batted her hands away.
"Get off."
Linda froze, hurt written all over her features.
"Bobby..." She moved back toward him. "Come on, let me help you."
"No!" Bob grabbed his head, stumbling slightly, before regaining his footing. "Leave me alone!"
But Linda stepped forward once again, and took his arm. She tried to lead him toward the bedroom, but Bob wouldn't move. She'd dealt with Drunk Bob plenty of times before, just as he'd had to deal with Drunk Linda, but this was different. Bob wasn't just drunk, he was angry, heartbroken, and hurt beyond belief, and she understood exactly how he felt. Linda would be lying if she said she hadn't been tempted to turn to the wine, but she knew that if she started, she wouldn't stop, and that was what had kept her from doing so.
"You need to get some sleep," she said quietly, still trying to guide him to the bedroom, and Bob shook her arm off.
"What's wrong with you?!" his eyes blazed with unfocused fury, and Linda finally dropped her hands.
"Keep it down; the kids are asleep. And nothing's wrong with me. I... I'm upset that you're drunk," she admitted.
"Why aren't you drunk?! It's like you don't care!" he snapped. Linda's jaw dropped, and tears pooled in her eyes. How could he say that? How could he even think that?
"I don't care?" she repeated incredulously, hurt slowly giving way to anger. "What do you mean, I don't care? What's wrong with you?!"
Tina jerked awake, sitting up and fumbling for her glasses. She turned her head towards her bedroom door as the shouting that had awoken her grew louder. Pushing back the covers, Tina swung her legs over the edge of the bed, but hesitated, wondering what to do. Groaning quietly, she stood up for all of two seconds, before sitting back down on her bed. She then stood up again. Clenching and unclenching her fists, she walked towards the door, and then walked away from it, repeating this several times. As the shouting grew louder, so did her groaning, and she winced at the hurt filled, angry voices filling the apartment.
Her lungs were beginning to burn and so she ceased her famous groaning, and took in a deep breath.
She bit her lip and clenched her fists even harder to prevent the sound from coming out once again. Tina wanted to go out there, to tell them to stop, but she didn't know if it would do any good, and that scared her a little bit. She'd never heard them like this before. Thoughts of going out there and talking sense into them filled her head, but they were overshadowed of visions of both her parents yelling at her, which caused her to stay put.
Her bedroom door opened slowly, and Tina stayed where she was as Gene's frightened face peered around the door. Glancing behind him, he closed the door and walked over to Tina.
"Why are they shouting?" he whispered.
"I don't know," Tina admitted. They both paused, and she tilted her head towards the door; she could still hear them, and she could hear what they were saying, but somehow it didn't seem to make any sense. But the more they listened, the more sense it made. Their parents were still arguing, and Bob was shouting over Linda; saying that Louise was murdered, and that bastard got away with it, and doesn't she care? Linda appeared to be furious that Bob was implying she didn't love Louise as much as he did because she wasn't drunk like him.
"I've never heard Dad that mad before," whispered Gene.
"Me neither; I've never heard Mom like that, too." She quivered with fear as she realised her dad could potentially do something stupid. When Louise died, he'd tried to hunt Logan down with a knife; what was he going to do now?
"Bobby, enough!" Linda yelled. "Just go to bed, I don't want you doing anything stupid!"
Hearing that, Tina wondered if Linda could read minds, as Gene moved closer to her.
"Don't tell me what to do! You don't get to tell me what to do!"
"You can't do this; I know what you wanna do! I know you're angry and so am I, but you need to stay here!"
"What do you think I'm gonna do?! Walk all the way down to the prison and break in?" He wasn't going to lie, the thought was tempting, but, even in his drunken stupor, he knew the police would thwart him, like they had done the first time. He'd missed his chance in the courtroom, and that was probably his only chance.
"I know you want to; I do, too, but we can't do that."
"Why not?!" Bob stamped his foot, his red eyes becoming a bit more focused as he glared at her. "He's ruined our life, why can't we ruin his?! You tell me why not! Why can't I go there and beat the crap out of him?"
Linda didn't really have an answer for that; in her mind, there was nothing wrong with giving Logan what he deserved. Prison was too good for him; she wanted Logan to spend five days in a well, but even that wouldn't be enough, because he would still be alive. "Why aren't you angry?"
"I am!" she screamed, finally losing her temper. "I'm so mad I wanna hurt someone! I'm never gonna see my baby again, and I all wanna do is make Logan suffer slowly until he begs for death!" She began to pace, this time frantically. "I don't know what I'm supposed to do!"
"You're supposed to be angry! Why aren't you angry?!"
"I just told you I am!"
"No, you're not!" Bob's fists were clenched, spittle spraying from his lips as his eyes grew wider and full of anger. Linda was taken aback, only able to stare at him in horror.
"You're not going back out! You're going straight to bed," was all she could say. Otherwise, she would say something she knew she would regret, and drunk or not, Bob didn't deserve that.
"Who are you, my mom? I'm going back out, and I'm gonna drink and drink, and you can't stop me!"
Linda tried to grab his arm as he turned and walked away, but Bob wrestled it out of her grip, sending her stumbling. She heard a thud and when she had regained her footing, she saw Bob lying on the floor. Slowly, she approached him, her heart in her mouth, sighing in relief when she heard him snoring.
She crouched down, and with great effort, managed to drag Bob over to the sofa, heaving him up onto it. Her face was red by the time she had finished, but she still grabbed a spare blanket and covered him over. Giving him one final look, Linda retreated to her bedroom, and flopped down on her bed face first, exhausted. She didn't sleep right away, one eye focused on the door, a tear slowly falling down her face.
Gene and Tina were still huddled in her room, arms around each other.
"Is it over?" Gene whispered.
"I think so," Tina whispered back, but none of them moved. The entire apartment was silent, only broken by the sounds of their parents' snoring, which caused the children to relax. They remained standing, however, just listening to the snoring, wondering what was going to happen in the morning. Tina wished that she and Gene had school tomorrow; that way they wouldn't have to listen to the talk her parents were likely going to have. Maybe she could get Gene and herself out of the house, so Bob and Linda could talk in private.
A quick glance at her clock radio told her it was almost one in the morning, and she slowly unstuck herself from Gene, but he clung even tighter to her.
"Can I stay here?" he asked. Tina didn't even hesitate to nod, and they both climbed into her bed, where they quickly fell into fitful sleeps.
Bob awoke the next morning, his head pounding, his tongue fuzzy, and feeling like he had been hit by a bus. Every move he made hurt every inch of his body, and it took him a long time to get off the sofa, practically hearing his joints screaming in protest.
Bob grabbed his head, squeezing his eyes shut as he swayed on the spot. Water. He needed water. It was the only thing that Bob could focus on, and he shuffled at a minute pace towards the kitchen. He soon discovered that the water didn't appear to help much, though he continued to drink it, before setting the glass down. What had happened last night? The last thing he remembered was drinking twice his body weight in alcohol and somehow managing to make it home. He couldn't remember anything else, but there was a certain silence in the house, a silence he could hear, and not just because he was hungover, and that told Bob that something wasn't quite right. He couldn't figure out what, though.
Although Linda could hear Bob clattering about (he was never as quiet as he thought he was when drunk or hungover), she did not get out of bed; she just couldn't face him at the moment. She lay on her back, staring at the ceiling, listening to her husband groan and mumble as he moved around the kitchen.
She lay there for what felt like hours, trying to psyche herself up – or was she just waiting for his hangover to subside? Maybe a bit of both, she didn't know. Eventually, she peeled herself from the bed, and stood up, stretching.
Entering the kitchen, she saw Bob leaning heavily against the counter, using one one to help hold himself up. He didn't look as bad as she was expecting, bar his baggy, bloodshot eyes, but a quick glance at the clock told her that it was mid-morning; plenty of time for Bob to sober up a bit. Upon a second look, his eyes appeared to be more focused than they were last night, though he still looked like hell.
"Hello," she said quietly, and Bob looked at her. In an instant, he remembered everything, every little thing about the night before, and he would never be able to put it into words just how terrible he felt.
"Hey," he muttered, wanting to look away, but forcing himself not to. After everything he'd done, it was the very least he could do, even though the look on her face made him want to cry. "Oh, my God, Lin, I – I'm sorry," he fought back tears. "I know that's nowhere near enough to make up what I did, but believe me, I'm so sorry."
Linda only stared at him, though Bob didn't expect her to run into his arms. She bit her lip, blinking rapidly. She made a move as if to hug him, but stayed put.
"Bobby," her voice began to wobble, and she gazed at him with her wet, mournful eyes. Bob felt even worse as she began to cry and she ran over to him and fell into his arms. He wrapped his arms around her as she sobbed, doing everything possible to stop his own tears falling. "Promise me you won't get drunk like that again," she wailed, her face buried in Bob's chest.
"I don't think I can promise that," he admitted, and Linda lifted her head. "It just hurts so much." Now it was Bob's turn to cry. "After what happened – he only got ten years, and I'm just so mad."
"I'm mad too, Bobby, but we gotta stick together," said Linda desperately. "I – I read that after the.. loss of a child, something like 80% of couples split up. I don't want us to be part of that 80%. I can't lose you, as well."
If Bob felt awful before, that was nothing compared to the way he was feeling now. He looked into Linda's face, rounder than it used to be, all the joy gone from her eyes, and took her hand.
"You won't lose me, Lin," he said sincerely. "I mean that. I promise I'll do my best to not drink again, but I don't know whether I'll be able to."
"You can do it, Bobby. I'll help you."
Bob raised his watery eyes to hers.
"You will? Why?"
"Because you're my husband and I love you, and we're gonna get through this together." Linda sounded both exhausted and determined, and she squeezed his hand so tightly it went numb in under a minute. Bob placed his other hand over hers.
"I don't deserve it. I don't deserve you." He hung his head, but Linda lifted his chin.
"Listen, Bobby, I was really hurt by what you said last night; I still am -" she paused to lift his chin once again. "But I know you didn't mean it. I know you're angry; I am too, but..." she took a deep breath, "we can't do anything about it. The best thing we can do is focus on ourselves and the kids. I can forgive you this time, but don't you ever say that I don't care about Louise ever again," she said, fixing him with a cold, steely glare. That had hurt the most; she could handle everything else he'd said, but that? That cut deep, and it would be a long time, if ever, before she forgot it. Bob nodded, ashamed.
"I really didn't mean that," he told her. "I don't know why I said that; that was terrible. I'm terrible."
"You're not," said Linda. "What you said was terrible, but you're not."
"Right. Right." Bob took a deep, shuddering breath "Well, I am sorry, and I'll do anything I can to make you feel better."
"Okay," was all Linda said, before she stepped away from him, and began to prepare breakfast. Bob wasn't sure whether to sit down or not, not knowing if she wanted him to help her. He decided to at least set the table, and pour juice for the kids while Linda retrieved some cereal from the cupboards and got some fruit from the fridge. She had been trying to make sure they all ate a little healthier.
They worked in silence, though every so often, Linda met his eyes, and gave him a small smile, which Bob tried to return. He laid the spoons down on the table, and set the glasses down as Linda sliced bananas and strawberries. While she was doing this, Bob put some bread into the toaster, and put the butter and jam in the middle of the table. He put five bowls down at the table, his heart wrenching when he realised what he did. Bob put the fifth bowl back in the cupboard, breathing deeply.
"I suppose I should go downstairs and get the grill started before we open," said Bob when they were done, as he awkwardly shuffled to the door, but Linda shook her head.
"No; not today. I've decided – we're havin' a family day. I'll get the kids up."
"Okay," Bob choked, nodding. He waited until Linda had left the room, before wiping his eyes.
After breakfast, Bob gestured for Gene and Tina to stay while Linda went into the living-room. "So... I'm guessing you heard us last night?" he asked, his stomach clenching when they both nodded. "Okay. Well, I just wanted to say that I'm sorry. I'm sorry I scared you, and I'm sorry for yelling."
"That's okay," said Tina, and Bob's stomach clenched again; why were his children so forgiving? He and Linda had really lucked out, having three of the greatest children in the world.
"Thank you," he said. "I just wanted you to know that I'm going to do my best not to drink again."
"Why did it make you so mad?" asked Gene.
"It wasn't really the drink," Bob told him, and he began to gently explain that he was angry and upset over the outcome of the trial, and when you get drunk you forget things. "I wanted to stop feeling hurt and angry, and that's why I got drunk; it made the pain go away, but not forever. Because it only helped while I was actually drinking, and when I stopped, the pain came back, so the only thing I could think of to do was keep drinking."
The kids listened intently; to Tina, getting drunk sounded frightening, when it never had done before, while Gene thought it sounded rather like something people did to punish themselves. Bob was unintentionally making it very unappealing for them. "I'm gonna be honest with you," he said, "I'm still devastated over Louise; we all are, but it doesn't mean I love either of you any less. I've always loved the three of you equally; all of you have always been my favourites." He hesitated, wondering if he should say what he wanted, but Gene seemed to know what it was going to be.
"Would you be the same if it was us?"
"Of course I would," Bob said immediately. "I'd be the exact same. It's not something I like to think about."
That seemed to reassure them, and the kids gave Bob a quick but grateful hug, before the three of them went to join Linda.
Bob paced in the living-room, feeling restless, but not really knowing why. It felt strange having the apartment to himself, which definitely contributed to the feeling of restlessness.
Linda had gone shopping with Gene and Tina, as the three of them needed to go up a size, but Bob declined their offer to go with them. With the restaurant closed once again, Bob didn't know what to do with himself. He'd already cleaned the apartment, bar Louise's room, as a surprise for Linda, but he'd finished ages ago, and now he was just trying to pass the time before they returned home.
Bob pulled at his fingers as he continued to pace, unable to decide whether to play music or not, play a movie or not, eat or not. A small part of him wanted a drink, but for the most part, he never wanted to touch the stuff ever again. The look on Linda's face was more than enough reason, as was the incentive to not frighten and neglect his children (again). He still thought Linda had been rather quick to forgive him, but the more he thought about it, the more he realised that she was far too good for him. It was something he'd always known, but now, she was proving just how amazing she was. God, he loved her, and he really did not deserve her.
Bob continued to march the length of the living-room, occasionally looking out of the window, when the burger phone rang, making him jump, and he picked it up.
"Hello?"
"Hello, Mr Belcher?"
Although Bob didn't recognise the voice, he wasn't too worried; there was no way the press could have found out their new number.
"Yes?"
"Hi, this is Clyde from the "About a Toy" toy store; I'm just calling you to let you know that the bunny ears you ordered have arrived."
Bob stopped mid step, gripping the phone tightly.
"They are?" he whispered.
"Yes, so you can come down whenever you have a moment -"
"I'm on my way." Bob hung up and grabbed his keys.
He arrived there in record time, almost colliding with the kerb in his haste. Bob barely remembered to lock the car door before he hurried in to the shop. Barring the time he had asked Clyde about the bunny ears, the last time Bob had set foot in the place was when he had to replace Louise's melted Kuchi Kopi. Averting his gaze from the colourful Kuchi Kopi display, Bob hurried to the counter, where Clyde was standing. A small white box was in front of him. "I – I'm Bob Belcher; you just called me," said Bob rather needlessly and a little bit out of breath. He looked down at the box. "Are they -? Are these -?"
"Yes; here they are." Clyde opened the box and lifted out something small and pink.
For a moment, Bob couldn't move; he couldn't do anything except stare at that pink velvety material and the tall ears that stood proudly. He thought he would never see this hat again in the flesh, and now that was staring right it... he couldn't put it into words. Reaching out, his trembling fingers brushed the fabric, and he gasped quietly, gently holding the hat close to him.
"Thank you. You don't know what this means."
Bob didn't really remember how he got home; he wasn't even sure if he'd paid Clyde. The only thing he was sure was real were the bunny ears in his hands. He couldn't stop staring at them. He lovingly stroked the ears, feeling the thin wire underneath. They felt so soft; he could see why Louise never took them off. Slowly, Bob placed them on his head, fiddling with the ears, and carefully adjusting the tassels. It was even more comfortable than it looked, and Bob found that he didn't want to take it off. He did after a while, though, and resumed staring at it. It wasn't Louise's hat, but it was close enough and that was good enough for him.
He was still holding the hat when Linda, Gene, and Tina arrived home, the three of them carrying bags.
"Bob? Bobby, do ya wanna see -" Linda stopped mid-sentence as she realised Bob was just sitting on the sofa in a daze. She dropped her bags and hurried over to him, before realising what was in his hands. "Are those -?" she gasped, and Bob nodded.
"Yeah. I just picked them up today. I asked the guy a few weeks ago, but I didn't wanna say anything in case he couldn't get them."
Linda sat down next to him and took the ears, holding them to her chest.
"I thought I'd never see these again," she said quietly, suddenly feeling heavy and limp at the same time. "I can't believe you got another one."
Gene and Tina sat down as well, the two adults shifting over to make room.
"Wow. How did you find these?" asked Tina.
"I went to the toy store one day, and asked if he could get another one. He had to order it, but it was worth it."
"Definitely," said Linda, finally relinquishing her grip to hand the ears over to Tina. To her, it felt a little bit surreal seeing the ears in the flesh again. It felt weird seeing them in her hand and not on Louise's head, even though she knew Louise still had her bunny ears on, it still felt strange to her.
Gene was the only one who hadn't held them, and he didn't look as if he wanted to. "Gene? You okay, baby?" Linda asked, upon seeing Gene's face.
"Yep. Fine," he nodded. "I'm just gonna go lie down." He barely finished speaking before he'd stood up and walked out of the room, leaving the rest of his family staring after him.
"I'll give him a minute," said Bob, apparently reading Linda's mind. "I don't wanna force him."
"Okay," Linda nodded. "My poor little Genie Beanie's just upset." It was understandable; seeing the bunny ears again had given her all sorts of feelings, both good and bad, the same as everyone else, and Gene just needed some time to process it. "I'm so glad you got these, Bobby," she said quietly.
"Me, too. I just knew I needed to see them again."
Tina continued holding the hat, and leaned back on the sofa, not lifting her gaze from the pink ears.
Bob got up to check on Gene a short while later; he saw that his son had fallen asleep, and so Bob quietly closed the door and let him be. "So, what did you guys get?" he asked, situating himself back on the sofa.
"Oh!" Linda got up and gathered up the bags. "So, we got Tina and Gene some new outfits for school. We went to a bunch of thrift stores and to the OMG Mall," she explained, sitting back down and handing a couple to Tina. Linda pulled out some jeans and T-shirts, and also a few sweaters, and some pairs of shorts. "Gene chose this one," she held up a T-shirt with a picture of an explosion of colourful musical notes all over the front.
"That's very Gene," said Bob.
"Oh, and Tina, show your father what you got, baby."
"Okay." Tina reached into her own bags and held up a blue shirt, identical to the one she usually wore, except it was a little bit bigger. Her blue skirt was the same, as well, but then Tina showed him a white skirt with a light pink shirt, and also a mint green dress, a black blouse, and a few pairs of jeans.
"Wow, those are gonna look great on you," said Bob honestly. It was nice to see Tina experimenting with different colours. "I like the dress."
"Thanks, Dad." Hearing that made Tina feel a little better; she had been feeling really apprehensive since she picked the dress out. When she'd tried it on in the store, she had to admit, it looked really good but she wondered if it was too much. The dress wasn't exactly 'out there'; it was modest, with short sleeves edged with white and a flared skater skirt that fell to just above her knee, but Tina had never worn anything this light before, and it made her feel nervous.
Linda then reached into her own bags and showed him a few simple, but nice outfits. More Mom jeans, some casual long sleeve shirts, and some more skirts and shirts for her, including a T-shirt with a graphic of two cartoon raccoons hugging each other. Bob had to smile at that.
"Oh, before I forget; I got you something, Bob."
Bob barely had time to look at her before something small and grey almost hit him in the face. "Oops, sorry!"
"That's okay, Lin." Bob held up the items, which turned out to be a few new pairs of trousers, a size or two smaller.
"At least those ones will fit, and you don't have to keep wearing a belt," said Linda, as she handed him some shirts.
"Thanks, Lin." Bob managed to smile at her. She really was too good for him.
The following day, Bob decided, once again, to talk to Gene. He entered his son's bedroom to find Gene sitting lying on his side, facing away from him. He did briefly wonder if it would be better if Linda was the one doing this, as she was closer to Gene, but it had been a long time since he and Gene had had a good talk, so he might as well start again now. Besides, he had said he would, and Bob desperately wanted Gene (and the rest of his family) to feel better.
"Gene?" Bob closed the door and sat on the edge of the bed. Gene rolled over and sat up. "Are you feeling okay?" He noticed that Gene looked a bit peaky, and Gene nodded, then shrugged. "Did seeing the bunny ears upset you? I'm sorry. We're all upset about seeing them, so it's okay to feel sad about it."
"I know." Gene muttered. "I just wasn't expecting to see them."
"Oh. I can understand what you mean, though; it's strange to see them, right? Strange in a good way, I mean."
Gene nodded again. He stretched his legs out and chewed his lower lip.
"I feel guilty," he admitted, and Bob looked confused.
"Guilty about what?" Bob shuffled towards him. Gene fiddled with his hands, his feet twitched, and his face contorted. He looked from the window, to the door, to the ceiling, to his blanket, but not to his father. When he finally looked up at her, his eyes were watery.
"I should have gone with Louise that day; I could have protected her from Logan. I'm her large brother, that's what I'm supposed to do." Gene's lip began to tremble, and his breathing quicker as the tears fell thick and fast. "If I'd gone with her, she'd be alive!" he sobbed, burying his face in his hands. Bob instantly leaned forward and wrapped his arms around Gene and began to rock him gently.
"It's not your fault," he said, trying not to cry himself. "It's not."
"But if I had been there, Logan would have pushed me, and I wouldn't have fallen in because I wouldn't fit!" Gene sobbed into Bob's chest, his voice slightly muffled, and Bob's face screwed up. He continued to rock Gene while he worked to keep his own breathing under control.
"Gene, please don't blame yourself," he said, rubbing comforting circles on his son's back. Remember, Louise doesn't blame you. There was no way we could have known what was going to happen. It's not your fault, it's Logan's."
"But I knew Logan hated her, and I shouldn't have let go out alone! She'd still be here!" Gene wailed, before bawling into Bob's chest. Bob didn't say anything; he just continued to rock him, holding him tightly, doing his best to make sure Gene felt secure.
Hearing this made him feel indescribably awful; he couldn't bear to see his children upset, and he couldn't believe that Gene had been thinking that he was at fault for all this.
When Gene had somewhat quietened, he straightened up, and wiped his face.
"Gene, listen to me." Bob placed his hands on Gene's shoulders and looked him in the eye, "this was not your fault. You did nothing wrong. We didn't know Logan was going to be there, and we didn't know what he was going to do. No one blames you, so you shouldn't blame yourself."
"You blame yourself," said Gene, and Bob was taken aback. He was momentarily speechless; for a moment, he had been about to say that he was supposed to blame himself – he was the parent, after all, and he was to blame. Bob would always believe that, but maybe he should start trying not to? Maybe... maybe admitting, admitting out loud, that it wasn't his fault either, would be one of those important first steps towards healing?
"You're right," he said finally. "I do blame myself, because I'm supposed to protect my children, and I couldn't protect Louise. But, I promise that I'm going to work on not blaming myself. Will you try to do that, as well?"
Gene looked unsure, and he reached up to latch onto Bob's arm.
"I can try." He sounded just as unsure as he looked, but he was going to make an effort, and that was good enough for Bob.
"We can help each other; that's what families are for, right?" he said, and Gene nodded.
They say in silence, and Gene wiped his face again. "You know," Bob said after a while, "you still haven't had your treat yet. Do you still want to do it?"
"It sounds great, but I still don't feel like it. I mean, I want to, but I don't want to."
"That's okay; there's no time limit. You can do it whenever you feel like it."
Gene nodded once again, his gaze flitting to his lap. "You know, if you wanna talk to me about anything, you can right?"
"Yeah, I know. I will try." Gene looked back up at him. "I love you, Dad."
"I love you, too, Gene."
~ X ~
Done! What did you think?
I really wanted to keep the family's grief there; I didn't want to go down the route of them going back to "normal" after a certain amount of time, because that will never happen. Right now, they're still learning how to talk to one another, so they've got a long way to go.
Given how loving they are, I think they can make this work.