I hope you all had an awesome beginning for 2013. Methinks the year is gonna to be a little – or perhaps a lot - chaotic for the PVites…but ultimately hopeful.
####
(2006)
"The man with the lime green hatchback and the 10.99 haircut. That's not you. And I think we both know it never will be."
The small bottle chilled his palm. He could blame the start of the tradition on Natalia, who was always fascinated with the champagne cola substitute for the 'grown-up' drink. The plastic flutes and the streamers were his extra touch.
"This is for you, us, for –"
"Don't say this is for Natalia." Rebecca swiped at the paper bag. "She's a grown woman now, probably out sneaking a few sips of real champagne at some frat party. You know what that means, Jesse? We can't hide behind her anymore."
He took a breath and bit the inside of his cheek, because he could feel him rising: that guy, that guy stuck in survivor mode who didn't have time for niceties or pretty words. The one who lived by - if not the honor code then at least the honesty code - and to hell with the consequences. "This was…no, this is our tradition. Our family tradition, and the last time I checked, we were still a family."
"And what does that word mean to you? Family? What's your definition? Does it include a long-term bond? An obligation?" She took the bag and twisted it slowly, absently. "Does it include love?"
"I do love—"
"Consummate love. That's one of the words they teach you in those psych classes you take for medical school. Three parts: three ideal components." She lifted a finger. "Commitment." Looking up at him, she raised a second. "Emotional intimacy." The third finger lifted halfway before her hand curled into a relaxed fist. "The third? Passion…that all-consuming, intangible…something."
He rushed forward and pressed her against the counter. When his lips in turned pressed angry, determined trails down her throat, she groaned and he could feel…feel the moment when she gave in – and the moment when she gave it all back.
Jesse pulled away, breathless, with an equally frustrated groan. She wouldn't…
Wouldn't…
"If this is about where I was before–" His voice was strained, muffled against her shoulder.
There was aching softness against the back of his head. Always the caretaker. "I understand. But you need to understand, too. I think a part of you already does. I can't be the stand-in, the substitute. It's not fair to me…to us."
This time he pulled back fully, taking her beautiful face in his hands. They could make this work. They could.
"Give it some time?" he said. "I'll do better, I promise." He couldn't lose anymore. She'd given him stability, security. She did deserve better.
"It's not about –"
"Just some time, okay? If you still feel this way after that time, I'll understand."
Even as he saw the internal struggle settled – pushed away – in her eyes as she quietly nodded, even as she uncorked the bottle and turned the television on just as the ball dropped, even as he kissed her lightly, that brash guy inside was kicking his feet back and calling Jesse a fool.
A liar.
- (2007)
He sat on the park bench at exactly 10:55. With the time difference, it would be midnight for them soon. He was always faithfully back by midnight to ring in the new year with his family, but part of him had held onto that sliver of guilt for his secret New Year's ritual. But Rebecca knew now, and she supported him.
Jesse no longer feared the dark shadows, something else he owed to her. As with every year, he filled those shadows with laughter, with color, and with the possibilities.
He took out his extra purchase: the pen and pad. Despite his messy handwriting, the message still somehow managed to find its way. It was consistent, simple: his only resolution and wish.
Be Happy.
At 10:59, he folded the paper – to the precise specifications of a small boy he once knew - and began his silent countdown. At the stroke of 11, Jesse sent his message for Angela and Frankie flying into the illuminated shadows.
"Happy New Year," he said softly.
The brightest illumination came courtesy of his new Christmas gift. Punching buttons on the phone, he struggled to read his first – and last – text message from Rebecca.
"Happy New Year, Jesse. Go find them."
- (Present)
Jesse searched underneath the rock, pulling at chunks of grass and weeds. When his thumb finally brushed against glass, he smiled. After freeing the bottle from its makeshift hiding place, he pulled out two slips of paper, one still shaped in the rough outline of a paper airplane. Unfolding that paper, the smile became a full-out grin. "New Year Revolushon 1986: Eat a worm."
"That's my boy," Jesse whispered.
His hand smoothed out the creases from the yellowed paper tucked neatly in the bottom of the bottle. The vastly different writing approaches somehow harmonized together for the two-word vow: "Be happy."
Their time capsule had survived. Time had that way about it, just as history had a bothersome habit of repeating itself.
The dull light was the same.
The phone was the same.
The message, the same: Happy New Year, Jesse.
Its meaning, however, was decidedly different.
This time, he couldn't outpace the ever-lengthening shadows.
Shall old aquaintances never be forgotten.
#### (September, 2011)
His eyes were so raw.
And the funny thing, the damn hilarious thing was how he welcomed the scraping burn. It was infinitely better, infinitely preferable to the dull ache that had taken over the rest of his body as they led him into each room.
It had…it had started with Marissa, because he insisted. If he was gonna play the role of their self-made miracle man one final time, his daughter was damn sure gonna get first privileges.
God, she was so cold and he wanted for once to be that guy – that dad that tucked his little girl in and kept her safe…warm. His first and last chance. He was good, so good at the wanting, not so good at the fulfilling.
But he didn't need to feel the chilled cold. He didn't need to see her pale skin. He didn't need his fancy cutting-edge equipment. He knew.
He knew that once again, all his pomp and bluster and superiority wouldn't, couldn't amount to anything when it mattered most. The dull throb in his still-unbandaged, still-bleeding arm grew numb.
When he closed the door, that's when the ache began.
When he left the last room – the last stop for his young wonder-boy protégé – something else numbed.
And now, here they were again: the adversaries turned somewhat reluctant - maybe not friends, but maybe…something. This time, his eyes begged for relief and his voice begged for…what?
The words were hoarse, cracked, not carefully sheened with the smooth confidence. "You. It always comes down to you, Dr. Hubbard."
He allowed himself one stumbling step, one touch, one final -
She touched him.
And he really was.
For once in his life, David Hayward really was prepared to walk out of a room approach other people, and actually arrive at something approximating the truth.
But Angie Hubbard, competent doctor, amazing family woman, all-around Saint of All Things Good, led him willingly back to the dark – to his domain – with one simple word: "Don't."
- (Present)
David turned on the television and let that ear-piercing waxed-up Ryan Lavery clone's voice fill the room. Quiet desperation was a necessity for any new year's celebration and he hoped, on some level, the promise of a new start, a fresh slate, might bring her back.
Observing the trickles of sweat, he soaked a washcloth in cool water and draped it over her forehead. The medical genius reduced to Home Remedies 101.
Angie was stirring and muttering unintelligible strings of syllables.
He leaned closer.
Good, her fever was breaking and the induced coma might have actually –
"Happyyear."
He smiled as the unintelligible gained some intelligence.
His smile was abruptly cut off by a very sudden – and very enthusiastic – New Year's kiss.
####
She was giving her phone a sound and thorough thrashing, and damn did she ever look good doing it. He could just picture that little line right down the middle of her forehead now. It was probably –
He tried to distract himself from that thought by reminding himself that he was playing this year's incarnation of the Pine Valley Lurker and essentially stalking his wi – his ex-wife on New Year's Eve. Better yet, he was performing this little feat in precisely the location that would make said distraction pretty much impossible.
"Damn it, Ryan. How am I supposed to find you now?"
She had been fumbling with something in her purse, but she suddenly dispensed with her little tirade.
It was always so dark around here –at least in some ways - so he couldn't see much past the back of her white coat. He could chance moving just a little bit closer; hell, he'd already chanced enough already, what was a little more? But something about that self-embrace he knew so well told him the source of her contemplation.
It wasn't exactly like the boathouse was one of Pine Valley's top tourist attractions. It wasn't much to look at really, save a bunch of boats that looked like they'd be lucky to make it ten feet into the water. But that…
That was their spot…
- (2002)
This isn't about parents or even my dreams because I never pictured the groom. And you're what matters. When I fell in love with you, I fell in love with life. You make me laugh till I cry, and then when I'm crying, somehow you can make me laugh. You keep me on my toes and you make my life an adventure. So I'm looking forward to a lifetime of laughter and tears and the unexpected. And the love. And the man. I want a lifetime with you, Leo du Pres.
You drove me crazy. But that only made me love you that much more. When we weren't together, I would go to bed at night missing that pain in the neck that only you can give me. And you know my family. I don't have to warn you about that…You're my real family…You did what no other woman on the planet could do - and believe me, a lot of them tried. You saved me. And if it weren't for you, I don't know where I'd be right now…I owe you my life. So that's my vow. I want to make your life as good as you've made mine. I love you, Greenlee Smythe. And my life is yours - forever.
- (Present)
"Forever," he muttered softly.
The affirmation was drowned by a collection of distant, disembodied voices as they began the inevitable countdown…
Ten...
She turned toward the voices, toward him.
Nine…
And grabbed her head.
Eight…
She wobbled, swayed over the water, and he froze….
Seven…
The fall began in slow-motion…
Six...
His legs unlocked, defied the gravity…
Five…
Ten years, a gap closed by one touch...
Four…
This time, he wouldn't let go...
Three…
Their eyes locked. Hers still held the world's fire…
Two…
"Leo…" And her voice still drove him absolutely, mind-bendingly crazy.
One…
He pulled her into his arms, never letting go.
####
Note: The 2002 dialogue is part of the actual wedding vows from when Leo and Greenlee got married at the boathouse. So, credit goes to…whichever writers wrote that scene : )