Chapter 15

The Belchers were at their weekly counselling session, and they were sat in a circle with their counsellor, Nadia.

"Today, I'd like you to try to talk about Louise some more," Nadia was saying. "About what she was really like."

"What do you mean?" asked Linda. She crossed her leg and began to swing it.

"Well, you've all been talking about Louise more and more, and it's great. However, I've noticed that you're only talking about her good traits, and the nice things she did, which is perfectly fine, but I would like to hear you talk about the real Louise. It won't do you any good to put her on a pedestal," Nadia said kindly.

"We don't do that." Bob looked slightly confused. All of them had all but completely forgotten manipulative ways, her devious schemes, her tendency to slap. All they knew was that she was a daddy's girl who loved puppies, Japan, and of course, her family.

"You might not realise you're doing it, but I would really like you all to think about the way you talk about her. It might not sound possible, but in time you'll be able to think of her fondly, without crying. It's okay to admit that she had flaws."

"But I don't think she did," said Bob honestly. "I mean, she was only nine; she couldn't have any flaws, she was too little for that."

Nadia nodded, sensing that the family weren't ready to bring Louise down from her pedestal yet, and so she changed the subject.

"Okay. I suppose you've got a point there. But I'd just like to say, that it's okay to not visit her grave all the time; it doesn't mean that you've forgotten her, or that you don't care, or you're disrespecting her."

They all stared at her, knowing why she was saying that. "Visiting her grave is a wonderful way to remember her, but it's okay not to go every week. I'd like you to think about that, okay? Now, tell me how you've been supporting one another. Have you been talking to each other?"

"A little bit," said Bob. He glanced over at Gene. "Gene feels guilty," he blurted out, causing everyone to look at him. "He feels -" Bob paused, and looked back at his son. "Do you wanna tell her?"

Gene turned his gaze to his lap, and clasped his hands together. His voice low, he spoke of how he had been wracked with guilt ever since Louise had died, because he didn't go with her and he didn't protect her. Seeing her in the funeral home had done nothing to appease those feelings (Bob squirmed uncomfortably upon hearing that again).

"Gene, I'd say that what you're feeling is completely normal." Nadia assured him. "Many families who have suffered a loss feel the same way you do."

"But I don't understand why me and Tina didn't go with her; we always do everything together."

Again, Bob shifted, averting his eyes. He had to forcibly remind himself that it wasn't his fault.

"I mean, I know I told you about that dream we all had," said Bob to Nadia, "but I still don't think it was a dream. Louise said she didn't blame us; it's just hard to get out of that mindset, you know?"

"I can understand that. Gene, what happened was just an accident. If you'd like, I can teach you a few things to help that feeling of guilt. All of you, if you want."

"Okay," Gene nodded, desperate to feel something other than torment. Linda crossed her other leg, swinging that too, but she leaned in, listening intently. Tina, flipped to a new page in her healing journal, her pen poised over the paper.

"One thing to do is to write down everything you did with her, the good and the not-so-good; then you can try and focus on the positives of your time together." Nadia waited for Tina to finish writing before continuing. "Another thing you can do is, and some of my clients have found this to be really helpful – imagine that you had died and not Louise."

"What?" Bob looked at her, his eyebrows furrowed.

"It's a way of acknowledging feelings. If the situation was reversed, what would you say to Louise?"

"I – I don't know," said Bob.

"You wouldn't want her to feel guilty, would you?" she asked, and Gene straightened up slightly. "You say she told you to be happy; is that what you would tell her?"

They all nodded. "And you wouldn't blame her? I'd like you all to say those words to yourselves, either in your head, or out loud, it's up to you." Nadia watched as the family hesitantly mumbled those phrases, nodding in approval. It wasn't easy, but they had all promised one another to at least try and they knew that if they didn't start now, then they never would. "It won't happen instantly, but soon, those feelings of guilt will fade. You're all so good at supporting each other, and none of you have done anything wrong. Just remember that."

"I did something wrong." Linda's voice was forced, like she was struggling to speak. She hunched down low in her chair, and began to chew on her thumb. Once she said it aloud, she would start feeling better; that was what the counsellor had said, and Linda clung to that like a raft in a stormy sea. "Well, it's not something I did, it's something that I was thinking. And I feel bad for thinking it."

"What's that?" asked Nadia, lowering her clipboard. Bob turned to her, wondering just what she was talking about. From what he could remember, she'd done nothing wrong.

"I -" Linda's foot began to swing faster, and her face screwed up as she chewed desperately on her thumb. "No, I can't say it."

"This is a safe place," said Nadia. "Everything will remain confidential, and no one here will judge you."

"Oh, it's terrible. You'll hate me." Linda ducked her head, and Bob shifted his chair closer to her.

"I could never hate you, Lin," he said honestly, taking her free hand. Linda looked up at him, finally removing her thumb from her mouth, though her leg continued to swing.

"Well..." she began slowly, and Gene and Tina leaned in a little bit. "It's awful to say or even think, but... I'm – I'm mad at Louise!" she cried, covering her face with her hand. "But I'm not, not really. I'm not mad at her. I just wish she could have held on a little bit longer, but I know she tried. It's not her fault. I know she fought with everything she had, so I don't know why I'm feeling like this, but I just wish she would have tried harder to hold on."

"It's very normal to feel anger," Nadia told her. "That's a completely valid response, and it's okay to be angry."

"I can't stop picturing her last moments in my head! She must have been so scared! Why wasn't I there for her? I should have been there for her!"

"You can't blame yourself, Linda, it was just an accident," Nadia said, making some mental notes to write down later.

"Did she call for me? My baby was all alone when she died, and I'll never forgive myself for that!"

"It's not your fault," Nadia repeated. "You couldn't have known this was going to happen."

"Did she know I love her?"

"You can't blame yourself; it was an accident."

"Of course Louise knew you loved her," said Bob, squeezing her hand. He couldn't bear to see her like this. "And she loved you. I know she did."

"I know she did. But I still feel awful."

It seemed that, for the time being anyway, neither Nadia nor the family could convince Linda that her feelings were valid and didn't make her a terrible person. But now they had some new tools to help them heal a bit more, so hopefully in time, they would start to feel a little bit better.

That evening, after the kids had been sent to bed, Tina wandered back into the living-room in her pyjamas, looking unsure.

"Tina? What's the matter?" Bob sat up straight, as did Linda, and they turned to face her.

"Come here, sweetie." Linda held out her hand, and Tina sat down next to her.

"I was just thinking, she began. She glanced at the wall opposite, as though it held the question she wanted to ask, biting her lip. "Dad, what did you mean by poison?" she blurted out, and Bob looked confused, as did Linda.

"What do you mean, poison?"

Tina paused; she wasn't quite sure how to voice. It had been playing on her mind for ages, and she wasn't certain if she'd even remembered correctly.

"Back when – back on that day; well, the day after, you said that the doctor said Louise had some kind of poisoning. Did something go wrong with the water they gave her?"

It took Bob a few seconds to really register what she was saying, and then he remembered, and he felt terrible for not explaining it to her back then.

"No, there wasn't anything wrong with the water," he said. "The doctor told us that Louise had.. blood poisoning. They said she had some cuts on her back that got infected, and the infection got into her blood." He tensed as he spoke, and felt Linda take his hand and caress it.

"Oh." Tina looked down at her knees as she began to picture anthropomorphic mean-looking germs running around inside Louise's blood, deliberately infecting her. "Did it hurt?" she asked quietly.

"No," said Linda almost instantly. "The doctor just said she went to sleep, and didn't feel anything. And we know she's not in pain now, right?"

Tina nodded. She supposed that was some form of comfort.

"Sorry, Tina, I should have told you," Bob said.

"It's okay. I didn't think they would have given her bad water, but I just wanted to know. I'm gonna go to bed now." Tina stood, kissed her parents goodnight, and returned to her bedroom.

A while later, the Belchers found themselves back on the sofa, this time with two cardboard boxes on the coffee table in front of them.

"This is your box, Tina." Linda hefted the box on the right onto her lap, and opened it, both kids leaning close to peer inside. As Tina had been the first born, the box was packed to the brim. "Aw, look, this this what you wore when we brought you home. Pop-pop bought it for you." She held up a tiny powder blue sleep suit, patterned with little teddy bears, along with a matching hat. When Bob and Linda had had their scan, they had discovered that they were having a boy, and they had been inundated with gifts from family and friends; baby clothes, toys, books, bottles, all of it blue. Imagine their surprise when Linda had given birth and the doctor had congratulated them on their beautiful baby girl. Nevertheless, Bob and Linda decided that it didn't really matter what colour they dressed their baby in, and had placed her in the blue onesie. "You looked so cute in it," said Linda. "We decided to keep putting you in blue."

Tina was thinking how lucky that it turned out to be her favourite colour, when Linda put the sleep suit back, and pulled out her hospital bracelet.

"Born at 11:05am on Tuesday, the 9th of May, 2005, exactly on your due date," said Bob, taking the bracelet and smoothing out a crease that ran down the centre. "You were exactly seven pounds, and twenty inches long." He remembered holding her not long after she was born, in awe. He couldn't stop marvelling at her, still amazed at the fact that he and Linda actually created this beautiful baby. (Well, it was a given, as Linda was a beauty herself, but Bob worried that their kid would take after him. Luckily for him, despite Gene practically being his twin, Bob felt glad that his son seemed to look much better than he, Bob, ever had.)

"Bobby just held you all night, staring at you," said Linda, chuckling lightly. "I woke up the next day, and he was still in the chair holding you; I don't think he even went to sleep."

"How come they give us bracelets?" asked Tina, as Bob handed it to her and she examined it.

"Oh, it's so they don't accidentally mix up the babies," Linda explained, before rifling through the box again.

"Oh. Do people.. do that?" Tina looked a bit worried, and Bob put his arm around her.

"No; it's just a precaution, and it's a nice little memento," he assured her, and Tina sighed in relief.

"You were such an easy baby, Tina. You were a dream! You were the only one that slept all through the night when you were just a few months old," said Linda.

"Your mom thought we slept through you crying for your bottle," Bob said. Linda had frantically shook him awake, sobbing about how she was a terrible mother, and they forgot to feed their baby! Nope, Tina just hadn't woken up for a feed. "I think you were the easiest sleeper, and it was really lucky that you were our first born." Bob privately felt that if Gene had been their first kid, he would have had a breakdown; that boy did not like to sleep on his own, even as a baby.

Linda chuckled slightly as she pulled out a tiny box and opened it. "This was from your very first haircut." Linda gently pulled the lock of hair out and held it up. "You've always had super thick hair, even as a baby, and you had your first haircut when you were about a year old."

"Wow," said Tina quietly, her hand reaching up to the locket around her neck.

"Oh, look at this!" Linda pulled out a tiny glasses case, and opened it. "These are your very first glasses. You were a little bit younger than a year when you got these. Aw, look at them." She handed them over to Tina, who held them up. They really were tiny, and were mainly black, with blue markings on the sides. Tina removed her glasses, and held her old ones up to her face. Apparently, her vision was just as bad when she was a baby as it was now. Tina wondered how she even managed to see anything before she had gotten them. Then again, babies didn't really do anything, so it's not surprising that her parents might not have known.

"Wow," she repeated, not really knowing what else to say.

"Now Gene here was a week late," Linda wrapped an arm around him and planted a kiss on his head. "And you weighed almost ten pounds! So you were already so full of love for us."

"I was?"

"Yeah. You did not wanna come out; the doctor had to induce labour," said Linda, and a chill ran down Bob's spine as he remembered, plain as day, a heavily pregnant and overdue Linda grabbing the doctor's collar, pulling him towards her, and growling at him in a demonic, Exorcist-style voice to 'get this baby outta me now!' He couldn't help but shudder a bit; she'd been unpleasant those last two weeks, to say the least. The doctor clearly knew Linda wasn't messing around, for he made arrangements to have her induced that very same day. "You were just so cosy in your little home. You didn't wanna leave, you were just so comfortable inside of Mommy."

"Maybe don't say 'inside of Mommy'," suggested Bob.

"Well, he was!" Linda argued, and Bob gave up, a small but loving smile on his face.

"I still think if Gene had his way, he'd still be in there," he said.

"Oh, and look at this, Gene! This was your very first instrument!" She held up a small, colourful xylophone. "I think we got this for Christmas when you were.. two? And you loved it."

"It got to a point where we had to take it off you when you were in bed, as you wouldn't sleep," Bob told him, clearly remembering little Gene plunking away into the night, his high-pitched voice singing nonsensical lyrics.

"I don't remember that," Gene admitted, running his fingers over the xylophone. He tapped a fingernail on one of the bars, but only a small, tinny sound was heard.

Linda then pulled out something blue, and something else red and sparkly, along with a photo.

"Oh, I had to keep this 'cause it was just so adorable. This is the year you dressed as Dorothy for Halloween." She held up the photo, revealing three-year-old Gene in a blue gingham dress, handmade Ruby Slippers and a long, brown wig twisted into two braids. He was holding a basket that belonged to Linda, and a stuffed dog, and was beaming. "Aw, you look so cute!" She spread the tiny dress on her lap, and held up the Ruby Slippers, so they sparkled in the light. They were just a pair of Tina's old shoes, spray-painted red, with red sequins glued on, but little Gene had loved them so much, he'd worn them until they no longer fit.

"Yeah," said Gene. He stared at the picture, wondering if he would ever have a genuine smile like that again. "Why don't I wear those shoes all the time?" he said slowly. "Red sparkles look great on me." He said it not because he felt it was the truth, but because it was something he would have been expected to say. Maybe if he could try and be like the old Gene, things might start to get better.

In response to this, Bob pulled Gene into a one-armed hug; he couldn't be prouder of his son. He was trying.

Back at school, Tina couldn't feel more grateful that the staring was dying down. Sure, they still got more than a few odd looks, but it was better than seemingly every single student was goggling at her and Gene as though they had three heads. At least now people had started talking to them like they weren't going to shatter into a million pieces.

After lunch, Tina and Gene were making their way to the playground, when they were approached by Mr Frond.

"Can I see you guys in my office for a minute? It's nothing bad," he added, noticing the way they exchanged glances. "I just want to have a quick talk."

Silently, they followed him back down the corridor, away from the playground, and to his office.

Taking a seat, Frond casually observed them; he felt relieved when he saw how much better they looked – now they were clean, with properly fitting clothes, and washed and brushed hair. He'd made a point to keep one eye on them, just in case they needed to talk.

"What is it, Mr Frond?" asked Tina.

"I just wanted to let you both know that we've already got some things ready for the memorial garden; flowers and gravel, and other things. We're beginning the planning stages. I think if we have one more successful fundraiser, then we can get everything on the list."

"Wow. That's great," Tina said, lifting her chin slightly. "I can't believe it's really going to happen."

"When will you start planting stuff?" asked Gene.

"Hopefully, we can start in October."

"Can we help?" he asked.

"Of course you can," Frond said. "You can all help, even your parents, if they want to."

"I think they will," said Tina. "Well, thanks for letting us know, Mr Frond."

As they walked back towards the playground, they began to discuss the garden. "I think we should help decide what they plant," Tina was saying.

"Yeah. It should be things Louise likes."

"I think I'll make a list when we get home. Of flowers and stuff that Louise likes," said Tina. The garden had to be perfect, and one of the ways they could make it perfect would be to fill it with Louise's favourites. Tina slumped a little as she realised it might not be that easy; Louise had never really been a flower kind of girl. She could admit that now (but she was still adamant that Louise liked the flowers they brought to her graveside). She decided that there had to be flowers in a memorial garden; there should at least be roses, but deciding what fruits and vegetables to plant would be easier; they just had to pick Louise's favourites. Well, favourite fruits; Louise always hated vegetables. Already, a few ideas were forming in her mind.

On their way to the playground, they fell in beside Regular-sized Rudy.

"Hey, guys," he said, and they greeted him in return. "At least Mr Frond's not on playground duty," he said, attempting to make light conversation.

"Yeah, just Miss LaBonz," Gene answered. At least she was content to play on her phone and only really intervene if someone got badly hurt. With Mr Frond, they had way less freedom.

"You guys wanna play Gaga ball with us today? It's the final showdown," said Rudy, as they stepped out of the doors and onto the playground, greeted with the sight of dozens of kids running around, laughing and shouting happily.

"No, thanks," Gene said, as he looked over at the Gaga pit. "We might watch, though."

"Okay," Rudy nodded amicably. "If you change your mind, feel free to jump right in. Literally." He headed over to the pit, and clambered over the side, taking a minute to pump his inhaler, before joining in the game.

Staying put, Gene and Tina watched the game for a while, debating whether or not to get involved. One day, they knew they would be back playing games, and laughing and joking with their friends, but it would be a while.

When they had closed the restaurant that evening, and the family had gone upstairs, Gene retreated to his bedroom. Closing the door, he leaned against it, his eyes drifting over the room. The shelves to his right contained his musical instruments; his tambourine, his maracas, the little toy drum, the bongos, the harmonica, his – no, Louise's – Little Princess guitar, and finally, his keyboard.

He stared at the keyboard as though he was frozen. He missed how joyous it felt to press the keys and let the music just flow out of him. He wondered if he would ever get that feeling back, like how Tina felt when she rode Kopi.

Slowly, as though every move he made took a huge effort, Gene began to walk towards his old faithful keyboard. He felt as though his legs were made of stone, and he was certain his arms should be creaking as he reached out and grabbed the instrument. He wiped the dust off of it, and then held it up to his face, so he could blow more dust away. Finally, he lifted his shirt and brushed off yet more dust.

Sitting on his bed, Gene crossed his legs, and rested his keyboard on his knees, switching it on. His fingers hovered an inch from the keys, trembling slightly. He gazed at all the sound effect buttons; the barking dog, the thunderbolts, and the raindrop sounds.

He didn't really feel like playing, but he missed it at the same time. Maybe playing a song or two would help with that horrible empty feeling inside him. And Louise did say she missed hearing his music, so maybe he could do this for her.

Gene exhaled slowly, closed his eyes, and brought his fingers down over the keys, letting the music come from inside him.

Back in the living-room, Bob, Linda, and Tina were on the sofa, half watching a TV show, chattering mindlessly in order to stop the silence from overwhelming them, when the conversation halted like they had been hit by a train. In unison, they turned their heads to the doorway, where the sound was coming from.

Wordlessly, Linda got up and headed towards to the source, with Bob and Tina following suite. The three of them stood outside Gene's bedroom door, and they listened to the most beautiful music they had ever heard in their life. What they heard was indescribable; it was haunting, yet hopeful, heartbreaking yet cheerful, and melancholic yet inspiring. For all his talent, they had never heard Gene play anything like this before, and they remained outside the door, transfixed. It brought chills to their bones, and a bit of relief to their aching hearts.

As the music continued to play, they carried on listening, almost feeling they were unable to move. It felt like they should be standing on a bed of fluffy clouds against a pastel background, with harps and musical notes floating around their heads.

The moment was broken when Bob sniffled and wiped a tear from his eye, and Linda and Tina looked over at him.

"I never thought I'd hear him play again," he whispered, and Linda took his hand.

"Me neither."

It seemed to wrong to speak, to disrupt such beauty, and so Bob and Linda fell silent once again, and the three of them stood by the door, just taking in the ethereal sounds.

When Gene had finished, he lifted his fingers off the keys, exhaling slowly. Did he feel better? He wasn't sure, but he definitely felt something, and that could only be a bonus.

'That was for you, Louise,' he thought, turning his gaze upwards.

As the days turned into weeks, school let out for the summer, and Gene got back into a routine of playing his keyboard every day. It didn't make him feel happy, but he somehow felt less alone when he did, so he tried to play as often as he could, with his family secretly listening outside the door.

As the summer holidays well and truly kicked in, the restaurant was once again busy. They saw many new faces, and several old friends; Bob cooked, Linda served those sat at the counter and worked the cash register, while Tina bussed tables. Again, it was almost like old times.

Whenever they had some free time, in the evenings and on their respective days off, Gene and Tina would go and visit Kopi. When they were having a slow day, Bob would send them both out, and the two of them would spend the day playing with and riding Kopi. It got them out of the house, and besides, Tina had waited her whole life for a horse; she wasn't going to not spend every spare moment with him. It soon became part of their new routine.

Gene, unbelievably, soon found himself back in the burger costume, and was outside the diner, keyboard on its stand in front of him. He was standing in front of the window and was plunking out a little tune for the passersby.

He noticed that a lot more people were slowing down as they passed him, and a few even stopped to watch. They smiled and clapped and talked and threw money in the tin can on the ground, but Gene really couldn't care less.

A lot of them actually went inside the restaurant, and he found it weird. Why were they going in now, when his musical genius had never been able to tempt them inside before? He couldn't understand it, but he didn't care enough to question it, and so he continued playing show tunes, and resurrecting a few of his old "Bob's Burgers" jingles. "I Want Some Burgers and Fries" was strictly off limits, however.

Duster in one hand, and polish in the other, Linda stood outside Louise's closed bedroom door, staring at it. All at once, she could remember the fights, the long nights when her baby was sick, the bedtime stories, and the very long afternoon of her and Bob repainting the walls at Louise's insistence.

She didn't know how long she'd been there, just staring at the door – it felt like too long and not long enough all at the same time.

As she placed her hand on the handle, she hesitated. Did she really have the strength to go back in there? Linda wasn't sure. But the room desperately needed to be dusted, so she really didn't have a choice.

She opened the door, and was greeted with the lilac walls, the Japanese posters, the handmade drawings made her stop in her tracks. Her hand gripped the door as though it was the only thing keeping her upright. Perhaps it was.

The room seemed so much smaller; even though it was actually a closet, it had never appeared to be this small before. Maybe it was because Louise had always had such a larger-than-life personality, that her bedroom had reflected that. Now, it felt like she barely had room to move.

It had been six months since she last stepped inside, but it might as well have been yesterday. She remembered every little detail; Louise's toys and books, her little bunny slippers in the corner, her precious Burobu card collection.

Her strength ebbing away, Linda leaned against the door, tears pooling in her eyes.

While Linda was attempting to clean, Bob was sat on the sofa, surrounded by packages all of shapes sizes, along with a pile of envelopes.

He picked up the envelopes one by one, and began opening them, finding pastel condolence and sympathy cards, most, if not all of them, stuffed with money.

'Dear Mr and Mrs Belcher

Although we never knew you, we are so sorry for your loss. Louise seemed like a wonderful little girl. I know this won't make you feel better, but you are all in our thoughts.

Love,

Thomas and Heidi Berlingot.'

Bob read through the card, and focused on the names, trying to work out whether or not he knew them. Nothing was coming to mind, and so he assumed that he didn't. They were right, though; their message, though kind, did not make him feel better.

Wordless, he gathered up the cards, and placed them on the shelves in the bookcase, before putting the rather large wad of cash in the drawer so he could deposit it later.

Returning to the sofa, he turned his attention to the parcels, and began opening those, too.

Unfortunately, several of the things they had been sent would have to be immediately discarded as they were expired food products. Bob placed several baskets of cookies and muffins aside, and carried on. He unwrapped toiletries, journals, candles, several books on coping with grief, and lots of little DIY kits – make your own slime and bath bombs, and other such activities – for Gene and Tina. Bob felt terrible that his kids had had to wait for these. Of course, his mind didn't comprehend the fact that none of them had known what the packages had contained, and so they hadn't had to wait for anything, but it still made him feel awful.

He placed those on the coffee table, intending to give them to Gene and Tina when they returned from the farm, before turning to one of the last boxes. Ripping the paper off, he was floored to see the Hawk and Chick Collectors box set. He'd been so looking forward to this release, but naturally, he'd forgotten all about it. Bob let the box fall onto his lap, his hands shaking.

Fighting back the urge to hurl the box across the room, Bob took a deep breath, and slowly reached for the wrapping, to discard of it. When he picked it up, a note fell out, and Bob unfolded it and began to read.

'Dear Bob, Linda, Gene, and Tina,

Yuki and I both hope you are all doing as well as you can be. We think of you every day.

I wanted to write and tell you that Yuki and I are teaming up to make one last Hawk and Chick movie. I know how much you love these films, so I am inviting you and your family to the premiere in Tokyo, Japan. We would love to see you if can make it, but we understand if you can't. We hope to return for a visit here soon.

Also, if it okay with you, we would like to put a dedication to Louise in the credits. After all, she was a huge fan, and it's all thanks to you two that we were reunited.

Once again, you are in our thoughts,

Koji and Yuki.'

Reading it, Bob only shook his head. It had finally happened; he'd cried all his tears, and now he had none left.

Back in Louise's room, Linda leant against the door once again, feeling like she had just run a marathon. The duster trembled in her hand, and she raised her free arm to wipe her tears. Her legs shaking, she slid down to the floor and covered her mouth. Her wet eyes scanned the little room again, making sure she had put everything back in the right place. Bakeneko was still on the top shelf of the little bookcase, at an angle, and the books and mangas had been carefully put back into chronological order. The pillows had been fluffed, the covers tucked in neatly, and Louise's shoes were neatly lined up underneath the bed.

When she'd had a little cry, she got to her feet, and drew in a shuddering breath. Casting a final look around the room, she left, closing the door carefully behind her, and heading to the kitchen. There, she cleaned the duster, and went into the living-room, where she found Bob on the sofa, gifts of shapes and sizes all around him.

"What's all this?" she asked, lifting a stack of books from the sofa so she could sit down.

"Stuff people sent us," Bob mumbled, not looking up from the letter in his hand.

"Oh. Her eyes drifted over everything, wondering if the sendees had been expecting thank you notes. Linda hoped they would understand why they hadn't received any. "What's that?" She gestured to the letter, and Bob handed it to her. "Oh, Bobby," she whispered when she had read it. "That's real nice of 'em. What are you gonna do?"

"I'm not gonna go," Bob admitted, sitting up straight and looking at his wife. "I can't; it wouldn't be fair without Louise." He just knew he wouldn't be able to enjoy himself without Hawk and Chick's number one fan beside him.

"Bobby, I get what you're saying, but maybe you should think about it. You've always wanted to go to Japan, and now you can. Do you want to miss out on that? I think Louise would want you to go."

"I guess you have a point." Bob leaned back, and rested his head against the sofa. Linda leaned back as well, angling her head at him. She took his hand and shifted closer. "But I've thought about it, and I really don't wanna go. I mean, one part is, I don't wanna go without Louise, but I just don't wanna go. It's not like we'd get to meet up with Koji and Yuki, or watch them making the movie." It seemed that all they would be doing would be hanging around Tokyo before going to watch a film. Of course, Bob was downplaying it; they would be able to explore Japan, and take part in a movie premiere, and watch a brand new movie starring his two favourite actors. That was a once-in-a-lifetime experience, only he didn't want to experience it. Besides, seeing Koji with his daughter would hurt way too much. "Yeah, I'm not gonna go," he said finally. Would he regret this later on in life? Sure. But he didn't care.

"Okay, if that's what you want," said Linda, a hint of uncertainty in her voice, before standing. "I'm gonna make a start on dinner before the kids get home." She stretched, before standing and headed into the kitchen.

After Linda had left, Bob took up a piece of paper and found pen. Sitting back down, he leaned over the coffee table, and began writing, doing his best to sound grateful.

'Dear Koji and Yuki,

Thank you for the gift, and the words about Louise, that means a lot. I want to thank you for inviting us to Japan. We've thought about it, and we'd love to, but we can't make it. Sorry about that.

It's really nice of you to want to put Louise's name in the credits. She would have loved that. If you still wanted to, that would be amazing to see.

Thanks again for everything, and we hope we can meet up with you and Yuki soon.

Bob, Linda, Tina, Gene, and Louise.'

Quickly reading it over, Bob decided that it was good enough, and placed it aside until he could find an envelope.

~ X ~