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A/N: Friends, I promise Granddad is coming in the next chapter. .. and I do believe we'll catch sight of April one more time before the end.
Once again, I've borrowed from Alice in Wonderland, who also found something to be "curiouser and curiouser."
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Brad stepped wearily through the front door, finally home after his second East Coast trip in ten days. At least it hadn't been Atlanta this time – man he hated that airport. He was looking forward to a few days of down time, maybe catching a ball game, or at the very least, hanging out at the corner bar and raising a toast to Jimmy Buffett and the idea of some island paradise far from clients and deadlines.
It was almost dinnertime, which meant that he ought to find his little tyke at the table gearing up to throw green beans on the floor. He smiled at the thought, moving purposefully towards the kitchen. No little tyke. No April. Only the cat, demanding loudly to be fed. He sighed - that stupid so-called job again. "I swear April, you KNEW I was coming home," he muttered to himself. "You could have arranged to be off tonight. Barring that, you could at least have let me know to pick Ryan up on my way so I didn't have to go back out as soon as I walked in… " He pressed the phone to his ear.
"Hi Mom, I'm home…yes, the flight was fine, thanks… No, Charlotte was last week; it was Boston this time … no, no, didn't make it to Cheers, maybe next trip…uh huh…Anyway, April didn't tell me she was working tonight. I'll be over in a few minutes to get Ryan… He's not?" Brad paused. Ryan was not at his mother's, therefore April wasn't at work. Could they have just run out to pick up something for dinner? "No, everything's fine; I just haven't caught up with April yet… Yes, I remember, we're definitely picking you up Sunday for the Mother's Day brunch…Ok Mom, I love you too. .." He disconnected the call with a frown, heading upstairs for a shower and change of clothes.
Crossing the threshold of their bedroom, he glanced automatically towards the wedding picture on the wall. Sometimes he felt like that was the last time April was truly happy. Capturing her in that moment, the photographer seemed to have trapped her joy in the picture and Brad had been trying to free it ever since. He liked to look at the photo to remind himself that the smiling girl he married actually existed somewhere - except today, the picture was gone.
He moved closer to study the portrait that had appeared in its place – a remarkably lifelike rendering. April held Ryan up in the air as though he were flying, the artist somehow conveying a sense of motion. Brad imagined they had been twirling 'round and 'round - the delighted smile on Ryan's face was mirrored on his mother's. The ring on her finger sparkled in the light of the unseen sun…he leaned in to look more closely. Intrigued, he discovered that a small chip of crystal was actually embedded in the paint.
Settling down thoughtfully on the bed, he noticed the photo album left lying on his pillow. Curiouser and curiouser…Brad flipped through the pictures one after the other, all images of Ryan caught in typical child's play. Digging in the dirt, the thrill of the slide, hunkering down to eye a ladybug on a stick of grass, the intent look on his face as he lined himself up to kick a ball, followed by quite a few more chronicling a day in the life of a busy toddler. HIS busy toddler, and he himself had been too busy to be there. Reaching the end he paused over the last photo. April smiled wistfully back at him, her arm raised in a half wave. He noted with a pang that her finger was bare. For the first time it occurred to him to wonder who took the pictures – pictures of his son, of his wife, of his family.
There was a note slipped in behind April's photo; he eyed it warily. Perhaps he should treat it like his fortune cookies. If he opened one and didn't like the fortune inside, he simply refused to eat the offending cookie. In this way he contrived to dodge the negative energy associated with it. But this time there was no cookie to take the blame. If he didn't like the message waiting there, he couldn't unread it. He unfolded it gingerly, as though he expected the words to jump out and bite him.
"You didn't hear me, but maybe you'll see me. I hope you like the pictures, but pictures aren't the same as living color. Brad, I can't live with a picture; I don't like to be alone. I understand that you think you're doing what's best for us, but I don't agree. The 'reward' isn't worth the sacrifices you're making. I'm not willing for our marriage and family to always come in second. Ryan and I are going to my sister's; you can come get us when you're ready to put us first. We'd like to come home. We'd like YOU to come home. We love you. – A"
All the back and forth, the bickering, the arguments came back to him. How many times had she told him that she didn't like to be alone? He'd dismissed it – the "unreasonable" demands of an ungrateful wife who did not appreciate what he was doing for her. Truly he hadn't heard what she was saying. The knowledge that he could actually LOSE her because of that failure was sobering.
He didn't shower. He didn't change. He didn't even feed the cat. Brad picked up his keys and headed for the door. It was a two and a half hour drive to Beth's; if he left right away he could get there before April put Ryan to bed. Maybe it was unreasonable to expect a man to fly across the country and then drive for hours to retrieve his family who should have been home in the first place. That didn't occur to him. What DID occur to him is that there is such a thing as too late –and by God, today was not that day.