Chapter 20
As the months passed, the Belchers continued with their new life the best they could. They worked, they went to school, they attended therapy, they spent time with their friends – anything they could think of to fill those lonely hours.
Every so often, they had their little breakdowns. But they were there for each other, because that was what they did best.
Tina devoted much of her spare time to Kopi, while Gene dedicated himself to his budding musical career; he'd already gone back to Miguel's studio and recorded a few more songs, hoping to release an independent album. It seemed an attainable goal to him, and he saw no reason why he couldn't do it.
They would come together of an evening, watch a movie, and look at photos of Louise, and when the kids had gone to bed, Bob and Linda would work on their slide show present for the school assemblies and now it was more polished and refined, though still with that emotional and personal touch.
At least it had been keeping them busy, he reasoned, so that was something. Phone calls and emails about which schools they were visiting and when, along with meetings detailing Wagstaff and Huxley schools' plans for the trained counsellors.
So between that, their constant stream of friends checking up on them, and visiting Louise's grave, they used up almost every spare moment of time they had.
Teddy had been amazing; he'd invited them over to his apartment several times, and they had obliged. Teddy would set out snacks and drinks, and the Belchers would situate themselves on his lumpy, uncomfortable sofa, and they would play board games, card games, and have dinner (though Bob insisted on cooking). A lot of the time, they would indulge him by watching the hockey game. Well, they did their best to pay attention, at least, and if Teddy noticed, he said nothing.
"I hope this goes well," he said one evening, scooting his chair closer to the coffee table. "I've never played this game before."
"You've never played Kerplunk before?" Tina looked astonished, and Teddy shook his head.
"Nope, never."
"It's pretty easy, but don't worry, we'll help you," she told him.
He seemed to get the hang of it pretty quickly, and so Bob and Linda decided to sit that round out and let Teddy play with the kids. They did find it rather amusing to see his eyes wide and his tongue sticking out in concentration as he tried to decide which stick to remove.
"Aargh!" he cried as he pulled the wrong one, sending most of the marbles dropping into the tray below. He fell back into his chair, shielding his face as he tried to recover from the shock. "Whoo, that was scary!" he announced, placing a hand over his racing heart.
"It's okay, Teddy." Bob couldn't stop the tiny chuckle from escaping his lips.
"Okay, I think I got it now," Teddy said, moving back toward the game.
He fared much better next time round, and for the first time in a long time, his little apartment was filled with laughter.
"It's nice goin' to Teddy's, isn't it?" said Linda when they arrived home later that night.
"It gets us outta the house," Bob said, taking a seat on the sofa. Even now, it still seemed so quiet without Louise, even when they played music all day, even when they had people over; nothing ever seemed to fill that silence.
"Maybe next time, we can play Hungry Hungry Hippos or Mousetrap or something," said Gene.
"Oh, yeah, that would be fun," Tina said, remembering playing those when she was little. It would be nice to return to them, she thought.
"Yeah, it would," Bob nodded, before he stretched. "Well, it's late, you kids better get an early night. Oh, and you can both have the day off tomorrow."
Tina and Gene, who were on the verge of giving bedtime hugs, paused.
"What? Really?" asked Gene.
"Yeah. Your father and I decided that you should go and spend some time with your friends," said Linda. "Goodnight, my babies."
When they had gone to bed, Bob and Linda sat closely together on the sofa. "We're talking at a school on King's Head Island in two weeks," Linda reminded him as she tucked her feet underneath her and leaned in against Bob.
"Oh, wow, really? Wow, this is really spreading, isn't it?" Bob put his arm around her.
"Yeah, it is. I'm gonna make a few changes to my notes tomorrow, see how it turns out." Linda was still amazed by the reception her presentations had got; she couldn't deny it made her feel a little bit good inside, knowing that she was making a difference. Even if it was tiny, it was still progress.
"Okay," Bob nodded. He'd also gotten more involved with the presentations, by adding to Linda's notes and was now speaking more often. He had found that the more he did it, the easier it became. Not talking about his daughter's death, but speaking in front of large crowds. "I'm so proud of you," he told her, resting his cheek on her head.
"Aw, thanks, Bobby. I'm proud of you, too." Her hand found his and she gave it a loving squeeze.
It felt, to them, like they were barely carrying on, and just existing instead of living, but they did not realise that, most of the time, it was getting easier for them to talk about Louise.
Perhaps the biggest change was that there was now a burger on the Burger of the Day board. The "Cheese Louise" Burger. (Comes with Pepper Jack cheese and served on a sweet Brioche bun.)
Linda had been the first to notice it when she and the kids had come down to restaurant that particular morning.
"Oh. Oh, Bobby." She pressed a hand over her mouth.
"What do you think?" asked Bob nervously from his spot next to the blackboard.
Linda responded by throwing her arms around him, and Bob hugged her back, only removing his arms to wrap them around Gene and Tina, who had joined the huddle. "I've been trying to think of the perfect burger for months. I'm not sure if this is perfect, but I think it says 'Louise'."
"I think it's perfect, Bobby," said Linda, and the kids nodded.
"I was thinking of maybe cutting a pickle in half and then slicing it in half, and putting it on the bun with toothpicks so it looks like ears. I might do that, just to see how it looks. Or I might do something with Sweet and Sour Sauce, like a "Sweet'n'Sour Child of Mine" or something, because that was Louise's personality sometimes, or -"
Linda cut him off with a kiss on the nose.
"It's great, Bobby," she assured him. "It's so sweet."
"Thanks. It's gonna be permanent."
"So you're not gonna make a burger of the day any more?" asked Gene.
"I probably will, eventually," Bob said after a moment's thought. "I don't really want to right now, though."
"I like it, Dad. It's nice," said Tina, her gaze drifting from the board to her father.
"Thanks." Bob managed to smile down at her, already planning on surprising with their own special burger. He didn't want them to feel left out, and it would make their day.
The Tina Burger could be a "Tina-riffic Kid" burger, with maybe some pulled pork or bacon to give it a zombie theme.
Maybe he would indulge her and make a bun shaped like a butt. On second thought, no; people would eat those – it would be weird.
And the Gene Burger could be called the "Gene-ius Child" and he could perhaps do alternating stripes of black garlic and cream cheese (or something along those lines) to make it look like piano keys.
He was sure they'd love it.
If the Belchers had made any progress in the weeks following the one year anniversary, then they felt like it had all been undone in April, when the memorial garden was unveiled. They knew it was going to be emotional, they knew it was going to be difficult to see, but they went anyway.
Once again, the turnout was huge, and Bob and Linda were doing their best to show their appreciation as they chatted with friends and acquaintances.
Looking around her, Tina could see Olsen Benner talking to Mr Frond, and the Wagstaff teachers gathered nearby as they waited for the event to officially start.
Although she was surrounded by her friends, she kept quiet and stuck near Gene, who was equally as silent.
She kept staring at the fabric covering the new bench; soon, it would be unveiled. Tina wished that she and her family could have got the opportunity to see it before the reveal, just so she could mentally prepare herself.
Looking over at her parents, they looked calm enough, but Tina knew they were feeling the same combination of shakiness and nausea that she was. She returned her gaze to the blue cloth that covered the bench. In front of it was a large semi circle of gravel, which was surrounded by the painted tribute pebbles, with a gap of the stones in the centre so the bench could be accessed.
Just when Tina was wondering how much longer she could take the waiting, Mr Frond walked up to the front of the crowd, in front of the little bench, and raised his voice for quiet.
Try as she might, Tina couldn't seem to concentrate on his speech. It seemed that no matter how hard she focused, her brain didn't want to retain anything he was saying. It made her feel bad, if she was honest; Frond probably worked really hard on his speech, and she couldn't even extend him the simple courtesy of listening.
She couldn't dwell on it for too long, as before she knew it, Frond had stepped up to the bench, which resided against the wall, and had pulled the cover off. Tina gasped, as did the rest of her family. The bench was made of teak, which had been covered in a clear sealant, and had a shiny, brass plaque mounted on the back. Leaning forward, Tina read what had been engraved in black block letters:
'In memory of Louise Belcher 2009 – 2019. A quiet place to sit and remember good times.'
"Once again, I want to thank everyone who donated, no matter how small," Frond said when the applause stopped. "Without your generosity, this wouldn't have been possible, and her family have asked me to thank you. They've said it's amazing that people will be able to remember Louise, and they thank you for not forgetting her." Frond stepped aside, and allowed everyone to get a proper look at the bench and its surroundings.
On either side of the bench were pink rosebushes, and in front of them, blue forget-me-nots. The forget-me-nots spanned half the length of the rosebushes, and the pink and blue colours together made for a charmingly eye-catching sight. Lilac Wisteria, which Tina had chosen because it was Japanese, trailed down the wall above the bench, adding another pop of colour.
"Wow," Gene muttered, taking a small step closer to it, and Tina nodded.
As Tina stared it it, thought it was nice that in the future, kids would sit on the bench, and perhaps learn about Louise. They would turn around and look at the name on the plaque, and maybe they would ask who Louise Belcher was, and they would find out that Louise was a real person. Just a normal (albeit crazy) little girl who went to this school, and played on this playground.
It also felt a little strange for her to realise that soon there would be kids who would only know about her baby sister through this plaque, and it made her think about all the plaques she had seen before, and the people they were dedicated to.
"We hope a lot of people enjoy this memorial," said Frond. "And over here to my left we've got Louise's Garden." He walked over to it and again stood aside, and the crowd gathered around the little plot of land, not too far from the wall.
Standing at the front, the Belchers had to admit it looked great. Bob and Linda felt a surge of pride when they thought about all the hard work Gene and Tina had put into it. Sure, they had helped as well, but it was their kids who had done most of it.
It had all been very artistically arranged, there was a large semi-circle of white lilies, then some pink and green snapdragons (because Louise was feisty), then daisies, all arranged from tallest to smallest. They had been planted around a solar-powered rock water feature, the water trickling gently down the tiered, circular rocks into the bottom reservoir. In front of that were strawberry plants, tomato plants (because she'd enjoyed growing them with Bob), and a Japanese berry Tina had found online called Rubus phoenicolasius, or Japanese Wineberry. Despite the name, they were non alcoholic, but the berries were surrounded by bristles. They reminded Tina of Louise; a sharp, hard exterior, but warm and sweet on the inside.
Tina had also found a Japanese flower called Camellia, and that had been planted in front of the daisies. A local artist had kindly donated a stone figurine of Kuchi Kopi, that he'd carved himself, while Millie had donated a stone angel.
Finally, the last flowers that were at the very front were Sweet peas, because Louise was Bob's Sweet Pea.
Without wanting to pat themselves on the back too much, the garden looked amazing. Bob felt like he could look at it forever. Seeing all these flowers and plants moved him; as long as they continued to grow, then so would the spirit and memory of Louise.
Bob reached over and took Linda's hand as they sat down, entwining his fingers with hers. She gave him a small, watery smile, before returning her gaze to Nadia.
The four of them were back in her cosy, comfortable office, and Nadia was sat in front of them, looking more like an old friend than their grief counsellor, albeit with a notebook on her lap. It was a small relief in some way that the office was familiar and friendly, as Bob couldn't imagine going through the rest of his life without needing counselling. Because surely, if they no longer needed it, then that meant they were okay, and Bob wasn't afraid to admit that he, and the rest of his family as well, would be needing help for many years in the future.
"How have things been?" she asked in her gentle voice, and Bob shrugged.
"We've been going about like usual, but it's been hard lately," he admitted.
"I read about the memorial garden. It was a really nice thing to do. How was it for you?"
"Well, it was sweet to see what everyone did, and the garden looks great," Linda began. "But it was just..." she flailed her arms, reminding them so much of Louise. "I don't know; it was like I wanted to be there, and I didn't wanna be there, you know? Because of why we were there."
"I get that," said Nadia. "I think you were all very strong to have gone there. How were you all in the days after it? Have you been keeping up with your journals?" she asked, earning nods from all of them. "That's wonderful. Do you think it's helping?"
Bob shrugged again. He couldn't say for sure. Perhaps it was and he just wasn't seeing it. Perhaps it was because it had now been more than a year since they'd lost Louise and he was just destined to feel this way forever. He looked out of the window; despite it being quite late, the sun was still shining, sending warm rays of light into the room. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes; soon, the kids would be going back to school. After this, Gene had one more year at Wagstaff, and then he could join Tina at Huxley High.
"I think it's helping me," said Tina quietly. "It helps me to say the things I can't say. It's easier to write it down, and then say it. Like if Louise would like the garden. I think she would have liked the attention."
Nadia nodded again; they had got to the point where the sessions would involve the family talking through their thoughts and feelings, while she listened. They were getting to be so good at expressing themselves, and she was so proud at the progress they had made in such a short amount of time.
"I'm sure she would have."
"I haven't really been writing in my journal, but I've been writing a lot of music. Well, I don't write it, but I play it," said Gene.
"That's fantastic," Nadia beamed. "How does it make you feel?"
Gene tilted his head.
"It makes me feel not so empty," he said after a moment. "Sometimes it makes me feel better, but sometimes I just feel the same."
"And that's okay," she assured him. "It's perfectly natural to feel that way." She gave him a comforting smile, and turned to the rest of the family. "How have you guys been coping since the garden opened? Or just coping in general?"
"I don't know," said Bob, thinking of the little bottle of pills he and Linda kept locked away in their room. The doctor had prescribed them last November, and Bob wasn't sure if they were working, but he kept taking them as advised anyway.
"I still feel guilty sometimes," Linda said, looking upset. "Because sometimes when I think of Louise, I realise that sometimes she wasn't... a good kid." Her face crumpled. "And I feel bad for thinking that, even though you say we shouldn't put her on a pedestal. But..." she took a deep breath, "she wasn't an angel; she could be a little devil sometimes. And I'm trying really hard to not feel guilty about thinking that, because, like you said, we should remember Louise for who she was, good stuff and bad stuff." She felt terrible for even thinking it, let alone saying it out loud. But she now knew that sugar-coating who Louise really was would be a terrible disservice to her memory, and she didn't want to do that.
"I get it." Bob moved his chair closer to her. He knew exactly how she felt, having had those same thoughts. "I mean, she told people I served human flesh in my burgers, she didn't like Gene or Tina spending time with me; she had a major jealous streak. But it doesn't matter what Louise said, or what she did; she's our daughter and she loved us. And we love her."
It couldn't be denied that Louise had done a lot of bad things in her life. But she had also done a lot of good things, and you couldn't have the good without the bad. It was just life.
"It hurt when she used to slap me," Gene muttered, and Linda rubbed his shoulder comfortingly.
"I know. It just feels wrong to think of her that way, you know?"
"I know," Bob nodded. "The whole 'don't speak ill of the dead' thing -" he froze, looking shocked. He never thought he would be able to say the word 'dead' so casually. "That was.. weird," he observed.
"That was progress," Nadia told them, and the family looked stunned. Silently, they exchanged glances. They had made progress? But it didn't feel like progress.
"How did that happen?" asked Linda.
Nadia had to chuckle a little bit at that. She explained to them that it had been so slow, they hadn't noticed it. Little by little, they'd stuck together and slowly built a foundation to which they would resume their lives the best they could. More and more often, Louise's name would leave their mouths, and they would tell Nadia stories about her. Bob and Linda had been able to admit their personal struggles, as had Gene and Tina – Nadia didn't think she'd ever seen such a supportive family before.
They'd taken baby steps, and put in a lot of hard work, and it was because of that hard work that they had reached that point.
"You've learned a lot," she told them, "and it's not easy, because you've experienced one of the worst things that can happen to a person, and you've come through the other side as a family."
Hearing it laid out that way really put it into perspective for the Belchers. They were, miraculously, still intact (well, as intact as they could be with a missing family member), and they were able to function in their day to day lives, both in public and private. That was something that, this time last year, they had never thought they would be able to do, but here they were, doing it every single day. Should they feel proud? Maybe they should, just a little bit. They'd gone through a lot and come out still standing.
Nadia leaned back in her chair and allowed them to absorb what she'd said.
Eventually, Bob spoke up.
"You know," he began slowly. "My dad told me that the pain will always be there and it gets easier to manage." That day was one of many that would haunt him for the rest of his days.
"Do you think that's true?" Nadia asked, and Bob paused. He twiddled his thumbs and chewed his lower lip while he mulled it over.
"Yes. And no. When I think about her, it's different. I can smile at the old memories now, and I didn't think I would ever be able to. But losing her will always hurt; it feels like I've been stabbed and it probably always will. We'll always miss her and that's okay. Some days we'll be angry, and some days we'll cry, and other days we'll laugh. But we love Louise, and we'll always love her."
Epilogue:
Four years later.
"You ready, Bobby?" Linda, a glass of TV watching wine in her hand, sat down on the sofa and tucked her feet underneath her. She picked up the remote as Bob nodded, and leaned against him contentedly.
A smile crossed her face as Bob began to tap his foot to the opening credits of "Winthorpe Manor", and she began to do the same – despite what he said, he loved it just as much as she did. "Winthorpe Manor! Winthorpe Manor!" she sang, with Bob accompanying her with beatboxing, as was their tradition. "Ah, they should really ask us to do the opening," she sighed, taking a sip of her wine.
"Hm, you think?"
"Yeah! They've had the same theme song for a hundred years now; it's time for a change. We'd rock it!"
"We would." Bob had to admit it; after all, they sounded great (to their own ears, anyway), so why couldn't the theme song have an updated twist?
Linda nodded, snuggling even further into her Bobby.
"You know, it's nice to watch this and be able to hear it," said Bob after a while, causing Linda to laugh.
"Yeah! At least we can follow the plot now!" She and Bob both chose to ignore the fact that they spent a fair bit of time talking during the show as well. To be fair, it was (mostly) about the episode they were watching, but they would sometimes drift off into casual conversation.
"Oh, what time does the concert finish again? I don't want Tina to be left waiting."
"Uh.." Linda's eyes darted around the room as though it would offer some clue. "Oh! Eleven o'clock, but Gene said Alex is happy for her and Susmita to join their sleepover."
Bob thought about it briefly, but decided he would go and collect Tina from the Wharf Arts Centre anyway; though it was kind of Alex to offer, but the sleepovers were his and Gene's time. Gene needed it, Bob felt, and he said this to Linda; he'd had a rough time over the last couple of years. But he was improving, and had stopped seeing Louise wherever he went.
"Mom? Dad? I wanna tell you something," said almost thirteen-year-old Gene.
"What is it, sweetie?" Linda placed her copy of Open Toe Living aside and gave him her full attention.
"I don't really know how to say it." His voice cracked several times, and it had nothing to do with his ongoing puberty. "So I'll just come right out and say it. I've been imagining Louise – like she's here with us. I've been doing it for years, but I know it's not healthy, and I'm trying to stop."
Bob and Linda exchanged glances.
"You've been imagining her?" asked Bob, and Gene nodded.
"I started doing it when I was having a bad day, and it felt so real," he explained. "I wasn't even trying to pretend she was there; it came on its own. And I liked it. It made me feel better. But then I started seeing her more and more. Which was nice," he added quickly, feeling like if he stopped talking, then his parents would not understand what he was saying. "But it can't be good for me, right? For my head and my brain and everything. So, I want to be able to stop. Because sometimes it just seems too real."
Again, Bob and Linda looked at one another.
"Thank you for telling us," said Linda. "If you want us to help you, we can try. I don't know how, but we'll try our best. Have you talked about this with your therapist?"
"No," Gene admitted. "But I will tell him next time I see him."
"Okay," Bob said. "You got this, Gene."
"Thanks, dad. Well, I'm gonna go to bed now. Goodnight."
"Goodnight, sweetie," said Linda, and Bob said his goodnights as well.
"I wish he would have told us earlier," said Linda sadly, after Gene had left the room.
"Me, too. But now that he has, at least we can try and help him now."
"My poor baby; he was just trying to cope with everything."
"He's really come a long way, hasn't he?" asked Linda, pointing to the wall, where a framed print of Gene's independent album cover "..." stared back at them. He'd even signed it for them, as well. Linda couldn't help but gaze at it every time she walked by.
"He has. I knew he could do it," Bob smiled. They all had; they knew that know. After struggling for so many years, it still felt a little bit strange to be in this position where they didn't need to worry about money as much as they used to. His kids were thriving, and were pursuing their dreams, as were he and Linda. Gene was still writing his own music and performing locally, and Tina was taking creative writing courses once a week, and experiencing true friendship with Susmita. He thought it was great that Regular-sized Rudy had joined Tina and Gene's friendship group and had become very close with them. "It's nice that Tina has a best friend," he said, more to himself than Linda, but she heard him.
"Yeah, I'm so happy for her. I think Susmita's such a little sweetie. So much nicer than that Tammy."
Bob hummed in response, as Linda sipped her wine again.
"Well, at least Tina won't have to put up with Tammy for much longer," he observed; he felt Linda stiffen against him, and he realised what he'd done.
"N'aw, I can't believe my little teeny Tina's going to college soon! She can't go to college; she's my baby! Oh, no, no, why?!" Linda threw her head back and wailed.
Groaning a little as his joints creaked in protest, Bob sat up straight and turned to Linda.
"Lin, it's okay. It's gonna be fine," he soothed.
Ever since Tina had started her final year of high school back in September, Linda had been prone to random weeping fits, unable to comprehend that her eldest baby would soon be flying the nest.
Bob understood; he felt the same way. Sometimes he felt like there was no possible way Tina was seventeen; it seemed like it was just yesterday he was potty training her. Or helping her to ride first her tricycle, then her big girl bike. He had to admit, he got a little teary eyed himself when he realised that at some point in the future, Tina would have a job and a home of her own, and would no longer be behind the grill with him. "She's growing up. She has to," he said eventually, as Linda sniffled.
"I know, I just don't want her to. She's still my baby. She and Gene will always be my babies," she said. "So will Louise," she added. "At least we know she'll never grow up, huh?" she joked weakly, trying to lighten the mood.
Bob hummed again, looking around the living-room. Even now, Louise's presence could still very much be felt throughout the apartment, and it wasn't just because of the photographs hanging here and there, and the little memory table. No, it was the way they spoke of her all the time, the way they lamented over her pranks and stubbornness, the way they laughed at the fond memories. Her burger was still on the board; even now, it was still pretty popular. (To appease Teddy, Bob had added an extra Burger of the Day Board.)
Both he and Linda still bought and wrapped a present for Louise on her birthday and at Christmas. They couldn't imagine not doing so. They kept the gifts in her room, where they belonged. Perhaps in ten years or less, Louise's little bedroom would be filled floor to ceiling with presents. Sometimes it was amusing to think about. Other times it was not.
Every year, on her birthday, Christmas day, and the day she died, they would light a candle for her, and sit and remember the good times, and the four of them still regularly visited her grave, keeping it in good condition.
They weren't the same people now. None of them were, nor would they ever be. Over the years, they had learnt to confront their emotions head on instead of keeping them hidden away. Even now, the knowledge that Louise had died cold, alone, and frightened broke them, but now they could talk to one another and their therapist about it.
The pitying stares had stopped long ago, much to their relief, and that meant they were able to actually go out and do things without feeling dozens of strangers' eyes gazing mournfully upon them. However, with how busy they were, it was possible that they still got a few stares every now and then, but they just didn't notice. Bob and Linda's campaign had spread far and wide; both Wagstaff and Huxley High were the first schools to get their own special anti-bullying programmes in place, along with specially trained therapists. The programme included the therapists having regular talks with the classes, teaching them coping devices for when they felt angry. It also included special after school clubs for kids who felt like they had no friends, along with harsher punishments for bullies – in school suspension for a week, and then the high school students were given a set of three warning cards. One strike per card; three strikes and they were out. Expelled, that is. For the kids in elementary school, they would also get the warning cards, but if they got three strikes, then it was straight back to in school suspension.
To Bob and Linda's surprise, the majority of parents had been on board with it, and it had been working really well.
Many schools in New Jersey had now implemented this, and Bob and Linda hoped to bring it even further in the future.
"I can't believe she'd be thirteen now," said Bob, looking over at the bookshelf, where a framed picture of Louise rested in between Gene's latest graduation photo, and Tina and Zeke's prom photo. "That's crazy to think about."
"I wonder what she'd be like," Linda muttered, leaning back against Bob, her gaze also drifting to the photo.
"A teenage Louise? She would have been a handful. Several handfuls," said Bob, and Linda chuckled.
"Several bucketfuls, more like."
Both parents laughed good-naturedly, before falling into pensive silence. "Do ya think she'd have been a tall teen, or be short?" Linda asked, "Winthorpe Manor" all but forgotten about. Bob tilted his head, pondering.
"Tall," he said after a moment. "I think she would have had a huge growth spurt." To him, it made sense; he'd seen the shortest kids in his classes at school have growth spurts and end up being the tallest. That would have been Louise. Besides, she would have wanted to be the tallest, so that was why he preferred to imagine it that way.
"Really, you think? I think she would have stayed tiny."
"Now that I think about it, it would have been better if she was short; I wouldn't want to anger a six-foot-tall Louise. Can you imagine?" Bob jokingly shuddered, and he and Linda laughed again. Nine-year-old Louise could be scary; they dreaded to think what she would be like once she hit her teen years. Still just as crazy, combined with age, strength, and puberty, and Bob and Linda would have aged terribly.
"She woulda made me go grey years before I was supposed to," Linda laughed, running a hand through her hair.
Then again, she might have mellowed out, the way she had been doing before she passed. She might have become a much calmer version of Louise. "I wish I could see what she'd look like now. Like, I wish I can get one of those age-progressed pictures made of her, so I can see her. But I also don't want to, you know?"
"Yeah. I get it. Don't wanna see what could have been. I know she'd look just how you did at that age."
"Yeah.." Linda fell quiet. They both returned their gaze to the television, but did not pay attention to the show.
Bob's eyes drifted to the "Adventures of Kuchi Kopi" box set lying on the coffee table. Even now, it was an unwritten rule to never mention the series finale of it around Bob. When they had managed to work up the strength to watch the show, Bob had gotten really overinvested in it. The rest of them had enjoyed it, but not to the extent that Bob did, and during the series finale, he had wept when Kuchi Kopi had sacrificed himself for the world. "He was so pure! He didn't deserve that!" he'd cried, causing his family to bundle him up in a group hug.
(Kuchi was resurrected a few moments later by the Power of Love, but Bob had still been in floods of tears.) Even on one of their multiple rewatches, Bob still had to leave the room for most of the final episode, because it was just too much for him.
Most of the time, they (plus Gene and Tina) were able to talk about Louise normally, but occasionally the memories and sadness would overwhelm them. This was looking to be one of those times. "I'm just sad we'll never get to see her grow up. She won't finish high school. She'll never get married and have kids."
"You think Louise would have had kids?"
Linda paused.
"Maybe not. I can't really picture her with kids. Puppies, yeah, but not kids." Now that she thought about it, Louise would most likely have several pet dogs. In fact, Linda would bet that Louise would have worked at the pet store, where she could be with the animals all day. A pet store was one of the very few places Linda could imagine Louise working; of course, Bob had told her that their youngest wanted to take over the restaurant, and Linda could honestly see that happening. But knowing how much Louise loved animals, Linda had always pictured her working with them in some way. Maybe she would have combined the two and have puppies for customers to play with while they ate, like those cat cafes in Japan.
The two of them began to talk about Louise, laughing at the antics she used to cause. Linda jokingly lamented over Louise's baby pictures. "We should never have taken pictures of her as a baby! She was so small and wrinkly; she looked like a toe!"
They remembered trying to wrestle toddler Louise into her car seat, while she screamed the whole street down because she wanted to drive. Linda recalled Bob's ingenious way of getting three-year-old Louise to eat her vegetables: "This is broccoli. It's only for adults and big kids. You're too little." It had actually worked for a couple of years, to Bob and Linda's huge surprise – even from a very young age, Louise had been almost impossible to trick. But then she had wised up and resorted to hiding her vegetables.
"I still can't believe it worked for so long," Bob laughed. "I never thought it would have worked."
"Well, she was little," said Linda. " I know she was still smart back then, but she was still a toddler."
"Yeah, I guess. It's just, the whole 'go to sleep early so Christmas will come sooner' never worked."
"Yeah, she didn't buy that for a second."
Again, they fell into silence.
"I wonder if she would have been a better driver than Tina," Bob smiled. Despite having passed her drivers' test and becoming a very good driver, the Belchers would never forget Tina managing to hit the only other car in the car park. In fact, it was still the first thing that came to mind when they pictured Tina driving. Not that it stopped her driving them about, however; Tina relished driving, and took every opportunity to get behind the wheel.
"Hey!" Linda slapped his arm playfully. "Tina's so much better now." She laughed, knowing that he was only joking.
Bob laughed as well, before checking the clock.
"I'd better get going, it's ten thirty," he said, groaning loudly as he stood.
"The concert finishes at eleven, remember?"
"Yeah, but it's a Friday; I don't wanna get stuck in traffic."
"Oh, okay. See you later, my love."
"See you, Lin. Is the spare bed made up, because Susmita will probably stay over."
"Uh..." Linda looked from side to side. "Yeah, it is. But I think she and Tina will camp out in here again."
"You're probably right," Bob chuckled. It was something that happened quite often; he didn't mind being kept awake by their giggling and excited whisper-shouting. He kind of wished he'd gotten to experience that when he was a teen. "Love you," he said, before pulling on his jacket.
"Love you, too, Bobby." She turned back to the television when she heard the front door close, but she made no attempt to follow the storyline. Instead, a find smile crossed her face as she thought about Louise.
They still had their bad days; sometimes so bad that they would end up crying themselves to sleep. But they knew the best thing to do to honour Louise's memory was to live their lives the best they could.
The pain hadn't gone away. But they had learnt to live with it.
~ X ~
Done! I can't believe it's over. It always feels so weird saying goodbye to a story. I know the ending might seem a little cheesy, but I wanted it to be bittersweet.
I hope you all enjoyed it (as much as you could, given the subject matter).
Fun (or not so fun) fact: the lines "who knows?" by Bob, and "have you been keeping up with your journals?" by Nadia are taken from my favourite film, Joker. I didn't plan on doing it, but reading it back, I couldn't help but notice it :D
I'm not sure when my next story will be, as this one honestly took a lot out of me, but I hope to start working on a new one soon.