Author's disclaimer: Same as usual...you know what, I don't even understand why I put this up...except maybe for the fear of severe litigation.
Note: Thank you guys for the reviews. They feed and sustain me like manna in the desert. And to others reading this, your reviews/ comments are welcome and greatly appreciated. Love it/hate it, praises/something's just bugging you, as long as I can learn what to keep and what to throw away.
I have finals coming up so basically two weeks of my life will be "dedicated" to actual school work. So for your viewing pleasure (I hope), I'm going to put up two chapters this week. Already working on chapter 7 if anybody wants to know....though I doubt it.
Chapter 3: The Raindrop Prelude
"Wilbur, I'm sorry your dad couldn't be here."
"That's okay…not like this is the first time he hasn't come." And yet still, he couldn't stop that bitterness from leaving his mouth.
"This just isn't like your father," Franny said.
"Well, people change mom."
"You played well though! That's at least something to celebrate about."
"What are you talking about?" He threw his hands into the air. "I let five guys get past me. How is that any good?"
"It's not?" Franny mentally berated herself for not knowing that much about the sport. "But you know, you just have to keep moving forward. You'll get to where you wanna be someday."
He grunted an assent as he got into the car. Franny started the engine, and as it came to life, the first drops of rain began to fall.
"Maybe next time. I know your dad will come next time."
"I'll try not to be too excited, mom."
"You're not coming home today either? But you promised to come home tonight!" Franny continued to berate over the phone. "You also promised your son that you'd be at his game today."
Even with his headphones on, and music set at ear piercingly loud, he couldn't drown out the sounds. He couldn't remember his parents ever fighting this much. Yes, they had their fights, but this month was the worst in recorded Robinson history.
Someone shook him, and when he opened his eyes, Franny handed him the phone. Grandma Lucille stood behind her to comfort her. He turned off the music and took off the headpiece.
"Your father wants to talk to you."
"…Do I have to?" She nodded her head.
He placed the phone to his ear. "Dad…"
"Hey son. How're you doing?" He couldn't help but hear the fatigue in his voice.
"Fine." He didn't want to tell the man that he cared. That he had hurt him.
"How was the game?"
"It was okay."
A moment of silence. "I'm sorry son. I promise to go next…"
"That's ten times now."
"I'm sorry." Wilbur could feel his anger boiling. Did the man have no shame?
"That's also the number of times you've apologized."
"I'm sorry…but I'm doing something important at the moment. When it's done we'll…"
"You don't have to come to the games anymore." Wilbur regretted those words coming from his mouth. He'd thought about saying it. How freeing it would have been to just tell him off. But the reality was different. It was more painful than he could have possibly imagined.
"What?"
He couldn't take back those words. "I know you don't like to go to them."
"But I do! I love to see you play!"
"Then why won't you come?"
"As I said, I'm busy at the moment with something important."
"But can't you free up some time? I haven't seen you in two months dad! Can't you just do this…for me?"
"…I'm sorry. But not right now son."
Wilbur's breath hitched, and it was out of his mouth before he could stop to think. "I hate you…"
"…I'm sorry."
Those words broke through him, and he began to scream a litany of them. He thought he could keep saying them forever hoping that all his disappointments and frustrations could fuel his hatred. Even as his lungs began to burn like it was on fire, he kept yelling on the phone. Even as his tears began to fall. "I hate you! I hate you!"
And his father kept silent.
Once it was over, all his hatred went away. He felt empty except for the soul crushing grief now growing inside his chest.
"Feel better son?" Cornelius voice was barely a whisper.
Wilbur disconnected the call and threw the phone against the wall. The door opened and Franny entered. The rest of the family looked worried from across the doorway.
"Is everything okay?"
"Yeah mom. I'm fine." He smiled as his vision blurred. "I…I just got something in my eye."
"Then…if you need anything, just call me."
Wilbur nodded. "Sure, mom. I just need to sleep. That's all."
He woke up to the blare of sirens and flashing lights of blues and reds. He dragged himself to the window and saw the police cars idling in front of the house. Franny went out to meet them. They spoke a few words to her, and Wilbur watched as she collapsed to the floor.
"Mom!" He ran out of his room and down the stairs. As he passed the living room, he saw both his grandparents watching the television. Grandma Lucille was crying.
Update! It has been several hours since disaster struck Robinson Industries.
Wilbur stopped and peered through the doorway. Disaster?
"We're taking you to the scene live, where only a few hours ago, an explosion occurred triggering the fire that is ravaging the Robinson's corporate office. Reporter at the scene, Pat Williams with the story. Pat?"
"Grandpa…is dad…?"
Bud shook his head. "Don't know yet. But I'm worried…he should've called us by now."
"Thank you Chris. A few hours ago, the city was awakened by a blast centered in Robinson Industries. Firefighters are doing their best to control the spread of the fire to other buildings, but it doesn't seem to be dying out any time soon."
The front door closed. Lefty supported his mother as she entered the living room and sat on her favorite chair. He looked at her, hoping that she would say something. Anything.
"Reports are now coming in that all employees have been accounted for…wait! Except for one!"
Wilbur's heart skipped a beat. "No, please…"
"It seems that world-renowned inventor, Cornelius Robinson has been reported missing. Sources say that other employees mark him at the scene of the explosion, which police are now saying originated from his office."
He kept looking at his mother, begging her with her eyes for all of this to not be true. But her face was pale, and her gaze was looking at something far beyond him.
Lucille whimpered, "This can't be happening."
The police returned the next day and the family came together to hear the news.
"We're starting an investigation to find out what happened to your husband ma'am," the officer sat down across from them. "But to be honest, he's being presumed dead. It's just a matter of time until the fire dies down and we can confirm that."
"But…you're not a hundred percent sure right?" Franny could barely keep it together.
And Wilbur, who had waited throughout the night, watching the news as each update was released, felt each bit of hope sliding away from him.
"No ma'am. We are not but some of the employees and his own colleagues report that on the night of the explosion he had locked the door to his office and that no one was to come inside. As far as they know, no one got in, and no one got out. They also say that he was very agitated and upset just minutes before the explosion occurred. "
"Wait…what are you saying?" She asked. Wilbur's breathing began to quicken. Only sheer force of will was keeping him from hyperventilating.
"Ma'am. Was there any trouble at home recently? Any sign of mental instability? Or…"
"How dare you!" Wilbur screamed, got off the chair, and slammed his hands on the table.
"Wilbur! Calm down!" Carl was trying to hold him back.
"No! You're implying that dad did this! That my dad was insane and blew up his own office! Well, he wasn't!"
"Well if not insane, then we may be left with either an accident, no matter how unlikely, or suicide...Was he depressed lately? Doing or acting strangely maybe---"
Wilbur felt himself fall back into the chair as memories of the last few weeks resurfaced. My dad would never...oh God. It's me...
He couldn't breathe. Each gasp, each inhale felt like vacuum.
Uncle Gaston was on him, offering him a paper bag. "Slow down Wilbur. Just concentrate on my voice little guy."
He could only cry now.
"Please officer, just go." Franny placed her arms around her son who was sobbing uncontrollably.
"I'm sorry if I've caused you and your family any distress." He stood up from his chair and left.
"Oh God, mom. What if dad wasn't alright last night? It's my fault. It's all my fault!"
"No it's not Wilbur."
"Yes, it is! I told him that I hated him. What if that was it? What if he really thought I hated him? I shouldn't have pushed him so hard...I shouldn't have..."
Art placed his hand on top of Wilbur's head. "Wilbur…you're dad is the most…level headed man I know… He's also the smartest… I think he knew you didn't mean it."
But those simple words could not ease his pain.
"It hurts! It hurts so much! I can't stand it. I feel like I'm going to die!" He screamed inside his head. "It's my fault!"
His father's body was buried a few days later. Reporters came and went. It became a worldwide day of mourning. Why wouldn't it, when the father of the future, the man who had single-handedly invented the greatest advancements in the history of mankind, died?
It was raining then too. Wilbur couldn't feel the drops on his face or the way that each one was as cold as ice. He was numb to everything around him.
He could barely stand, and his legs gave way as they placed the first patches of soil back over the casket. Uncle Art held him so he wouldn't fall to the ground. "Be strong little man. Make your dad proud."
The casket had been a kept closed the entire time. Lazlo had gone to confirm the body. It had been too charred to recognize, and no one wanted to be subjected to having their last memories of Cornelius be of his ghastly remains.
When all was said and prayers done, they left, and all Wilbur could do was comply as he was half carried to the car. They didn't notice the man who stood in front of them.
"Mrs. Robinson. My name is Jonathan Sommers. I worked very closely with your husband."
"Yes, I recognized you Mr. Sommers. My husband thought very highly of you."
"Thank you Mrs. Robinson, but I'm not here to exchange pleasantries. I have a very important message for you."
"From who?"
"It's from your husband."
Notes: Another cliff hanger.... just to tick some people off haha. Well on to the next chapter.
P.S. Huge amounts of respect if you know where the title comes from...no cheating now.
