Shout-outs: Mareear, mayzee, Jane Doe51, Dutchie, I Dream of Scotty, blueyedmentalistfan, superwoman1015, and AngryLittlePrincess
Author's Note: Just real fast, there is another time jump. My muse is taking me in completely different directions than when I first started out. Hope you guys don't mind too much. Also, the Kate I keep mentioning is Kate from Perception. . . I have to credit that idea to my father, who always says Kate is the mini-Lisbon and it got me to thinking, they could be cousins.
Disclaimer: I do not own anything.
Rated: T
.
Chapter 9
Chicago
Patrick, my darling friend,
We haven't heard from dad in days. I am worried that something horrible has happened to him. Leah, Greg and I skipped school today to try and find him, but he wasn't at his usual bars or at the fire station, or any of the places he likes to go when he is trying to find his memories of my mother again. Afterwards, we went to church and Leah waited while I lit a candle and said a prayer, but I know something is wrong. My heart is telling me that he won't be coming home alive. Everything in me wants to be relieved if we have to bury him. The years of physical and mental abuse are finally over. There will be no more trips to the hospital and no more made up stories about what happened because nobody would believe the beloved fire chief was hurting his children.
But I cannot help wishing that things were different. That our last few years together would have been better. But then if things had been different. . . if things had gone the way they were supposed to, I wouldn't be worried my father is lying in a morgue somewhere waiting to be identified. He would still be alive right now, and my brothers and I wouldn't be enduring scars that go way beyond the physical.
I am a horrible person, Patrick. I am sitting here writing this to you and wishing my father gone. Mostly because I want the drinking and the abuse to stop, mostly because I am tired of lying for him and shielding his secrets and hiding behind long-sleeved shirts. But there is a part of me, the part that still loves my father that is aching for his release. Because I know, I know he will not be happy again until he is with my mother. I hate him, I really do. . . but not enough to wish his suffering would go on.
Although, normal people get over it eventually. Don't they? He is the exception to suffering, right? There are fathers out there who have lost their wives and didn't crawl into a bottle and never come out? They went on and still loved their kids, they recovered enough to move on and share their hearts with another woman who needed to be loved. It is a rhetorical question, because I know there are cases like that out there. I have seen one first hand, two years ago when I started Catholic school, there was a boy and he had lost his mother to a brain aneurysm. His father remarried last year and now they are expecting a baby girl.
There is somebody at the door, I am filled with dread, and I know what is coming next.
.
Dearest Patrick,
Since writing the above, I have had my fears confirmed. My father is dead; they found him choked to death in his own vomit outside where we buried my mother. I have had to comfort my youngest brother, I've had to talk Tommy out of not speaking ill of the dead on top of planning another funeral and calling his friends and our family. I feel like I am failing at it though. I think maybe I will wake up tomorrow and realize I have done it all wrong. I am almost eighteen, I should be worried about the homecoming dance, and I should be concentrating on college. College is not in the cards right now, at least not if I want to go out of state. Homecoming will have to wait, money just got a little bit tighter. I need to find a full time job after everything is finally settled down.
Enough about me. I hope your last year of college is going well. Don't think about jumping on a Greyhound and coming down here! You need to concentrate on your classes; I still cannot believe you actually broke away from what your father wanted and are pursuing your own dreams. I am proud of you. I am rooting for you.
Be amazing. Don't worry about me, I'm fine.
Love,
Teresa
.
She adjusted her black, button-down sweater and then put the letter in the mailbox before going to join her brothers in the car. It was time to put her father to rest, she was glad she had sent the letter to him the day of the funeral. She couldn't stand the thought of him leaving school just so he could be with her.
"Ready?" She asked, looking in the rearview mirror at her brothers.
Jimmy sniffed a few times and shook his head, his chest heaving as another crying jag overtook him.
"Stop crying James, we're going to be late if you don't stop it!" Tommy snapped, looking at him in aggravation.
"They can't start without us, right Reese?" Stanley said a little more kindly.
"Right," Teresa agreed wearily, getting out of the car and going 'round to her little brother. She opened the door and scooped him up in her arms. "It's going to be okay."
"We're orphans now!" Jimmy wailed.
Teresa looked a little shocked but then she nodded. "A little bit, but we're better off than most orphans. We have each other and we always will. I'm not going anywhere. . ."
"You aren't?" Jimmy asked, sniffing and looking at her.
"Not as long as you need me," Teresa promised, kissing him on the forehead.
"But what about college?" Stanley asked, always the practical one of the family. "You can't support us with the part-time job at the diner. You need to get a degree in something, it's the only way we can all still live together."
"I'm going to try and pick up more hours at the diner," Teresa answered. "College can wait until after you guys finish school."
She didn't mention that her boyfriend Greg had offered to marry her and move in to help pay the bills. She still wasn't entirely sure it was what she wanted. She still wasn't sure she loved Greg enough to spend the rest of her life with him. She hadn't even mentioned it to Leah or Patrick.
"We have to go," she said. "Are you okay Jimmy?"
"Yes," Jimmy answered, rubbing his eyes. "I'm fine."
"Okay," Teresa said, knowing he wasn't being completely honest with her, but she decided not to press the issue because they were already late as it was.
.
"There you are!" Greg said, coming up to the car as soon as she had parked. "People were starting to wonder where you were. Late for your own father's funeral, do you know what people are saying?"
"No," Teresa answered wearily. "And it doesn't really matter, its our father's funeral. We can be as late or as early as we want. Do you really think anybody is going to say anything to our faces, Greg?"
"Well. . . I guess not," Greg admitted. "But where were you?"
"Settling some things with Jimmy," Teresa replied, putting her arm around her little brother and walking past her boyfriend and towards Leah, who was waiting for her with open arms.
"Come on," Leah said, glaring at Greg as she hugged her tightly. "Father O'Malley is waiting to have a word with you before the service starts."
"He isn't upset, is he?" Teresa asked anxiously. "We would have been here sooner, but Jimmy. . ."
"He understands," Leah assured her. "Go on, I'll let people know you're here."
"Thank you," Teresa said, hugging her again.
The meeting with Father 'O'Malley was brief; he offered them a few words of comfort and then prayed a simple Catholic prayer with them before escorting them to the front of the church. The service started but Teresa barely noticed it until one of the men her father had worked with stood up and began to sing the Parting Glass.
Even though her father wasn't Irish, it was a fitting song to lay her father to rest. It had been one of his favorites and he'd have everybody singing it with him at the end of any gathering. Teresa closed her eyes and willed the bitterness towards her father to go away.
Her fingers wrapped around her cross and she prayed with all her heart that he had found finally found peace.
.
Florida
"Who's Teresa?" Angela Ruskins asked as she crawled back into bed and dropped the envelope on Patrick's face.
Patrick yawned and blinked a few times, turning down the Rupert Holmes record that was blasting from the player near his bed. "Teresa? She's my pen pal from third grade; I told you all about her."
"No you didn't," Angela answered. "You did not tell me that you were still in contact with her."
Patrick sighed and shut the song off completely. "Yes, I did. I've told you a dozen times that we still write each other. She's like my little sister."
"Oh yeah?" Angela asked, tossing her long, chestnut hair over her bare shoulders.
"Yes," Patrick said, rolling his eyes. "Has anybody told you how unbecoming jealousy is? She's my friend, my little sister. . . nothing more."
"Her father died," Angela told him.
Patrick frowned. "You opened my letter?"
"I thought she was just your friend," Angela said. "If that's the case, why does it matter if I read your letter?"
"You're welcome to read my mail anytime you'd like, I have nothing to hide," Patrick told her. "I'd just appreciate it if you'd let me do it first."
Angela rolled her eyes as she got off the bed and adjusted her strapless dress. "Okay, okay. If it'll make you happy, I won't do it again. Eddie says breakfast is almost ready. Why are you still rooming with him anyways?"
"Because he's my best friend and he's living on a seminary student's salary," Patrick answered as he gave her a kiss. "Now could you go and tell him that I'll be right there? I just want to read my letter from Teresa in private."
"Fine," Angela said. "See you in a while."
When she was gone, Patrick unfolded the letter and scanned the contents. His heart went out to his friend; she had lost so much in the span of a few years. He glanced at his wristwatch and then grabbed a pair of shorts and a t-shirt. Teresa was right, he couldn't go and see her, but he could help with her homecoming dress problem.
.
"That poor, poor thing!" Candy said, shaking her head as she wrote out a check for one hundred dollars. "Losing her father and her mother, and in such a short amount of time too! Five years, it's tragic. Tragic!"
"Are you sure that Billy won't mind if you give her money so she can go to homecoming?" Patrick asked.
"Of course I won't!" Billy answered, coming into the living room still dressed in his pajamas. "All I want is to see a picture of her in her dress!"
"I'm sure we can arrange something," Patrick said as Candy handed him the check.
"Make sure you tell her that we're thinking about her and tell her that she's loved," Candy told him. "Okay? And don't go running off to see her again!"
"Okay," Patrick said, kissing her on the cheek before shaking hands with Billy. "And thank you. Thank you so much."
His next stop was an hour out to visit Ethel and Fred at their new retirement home; he knew they couldn't give much money but that they would want to help out as much as they could. None of them knew Teresa personally, but they all loved her more than anything in the world and he knew they would do whatever they could to help her out.
.
Dear Teresa,
I was so sorry to hear about your father. I know he is happy now and that he is out of pain, but it doesn't make it any less painful for you. You have lost both your parents now. It kills me to think about you in Chicago all by yourself, trying to take care of things. I know you have Greg and Leah, but still. . .
He trailed off, not knowing what else to add after that. So, he changed the subject.
I am not going to board any Greyhounds to come and see you even though I would like to. But I felt like I had to do something for you. . . so, I collected some money for your homecoming dress. Candy and Billy contributed enough for your dress and Eddie, Ethel, Fred and Mrs. Miller added a little bit more for shoes and Greg's boutonniere. It's a gift, not charity. I hope you'll take it and for a little while, you'll forget your troubles.
I am thinking about you my darling friend.
Here is the deepest secret nobody knows
(Here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud which grows higher than soul can hope or mind can hide)
And this is the wonder that's keeping the stars apart
I carry your heart with me (I carry it in my heart)
Love,
Patrick
.
Chicago
Teresa whirled around in the simple emerald green dress that Patrick had helped her buy. "Isn't it beautiful?"
Leah nodded in approval and snapped a picture of her mid-dance. "You look very pretty! Wait until Greg sees you, he won't be able to take his eyes off of you. And I'm pretty sure that Patrick will die when he sees these pictures."
"You really think so?" Teresa asked as she stopped dancing and turned the tape player off, stopping Donna Summers and Barbra Streisand mid-duet.
"Do I really think so what?" Leah asked. "That Greg won't be able to take his eyes off you or that Patrick will die when he sees your pictures?"
"Greg," Teresa lied quickly, running her fingers through her new haircut. "I mean, I don't care if Patrick dies or not. He has a girlfriend."
"Oh! Greg will definitely not be able to take his eyes off of you!" Leah replied, even though she knew her best friend was lying. She was a terrible liar. "I mean, if I were a guy than I would be all over you."
The doorbell rang and Teresa shrieked. "It's Greg!"
"Go upstairs!" Leah ordered. "Pretend like you're making a grand entrance!"
Teresa hitched up her dress and took the stairs two at a time, despite her heels. She waited against the wall until she heard Leah greeting Greg and then she made her appearance, pretending for only a second that she was Molly Ringwald and her life was a John Hughes movie.
Greg smiled at her when he saw her coming. "Wow! You look gorgeous Reese!"
Teresa smiled. "Thank you. You look good too."
"Have a good time tonight!" Leah said, kissing her cheek. "And remember, you're going to be eighteen, not fifty. Enjoy yourself!"
"Thank you!" Teresa replied, hugging her tightly before.
.
Dear Patrick,
Tonight was homecoming at Greg's school. It was fun. . . sort of, almost. Not really. It was fun until we got to the end of it. And then I made the choice that I regretted as soon as it was over. I do not know why I did it, except I guess like I felt I had to. Especially after he bought the tickets to the dance and rented the tux and limo. And he whispered to me the sweetest things, how I was beautiful and I smelled good, and I felt like a million bucks against the soundtrack of a Berlin song. But then they weren't as sweet as the e. e Cummings quote you shared with me in your last letter. He didn't tell me he carried my heart in his heart he didn't even say that he loved me.
And now it's over and I feel so empty. I wish my mother was here to tell me that everything will be okay. She hasn't been here on any of the events that have made me into a woman. I had to tell Sister Muriel about my first period and now I have nobody to tell about this. I can't tell any of the sisters because they frown at pre-marital sex. I cannot tell my Aunt Lee (Kate's mother) or even Leah. And I would never tell my brothers, especially since I have been the poster child for good behavior.
Are you disappointed with me? I wouldn't blame you if you were. I am disappointed with myself.
I know Greg is at home justifying our actions. I haven't told anybody this but after we found out my father had passed away, Greg offered to marry me. And that is how he can justify what we did, because in his mind we are already as good as married. But I cannot do it. I cannot justify what we did because I am not going to marry him. I love him and I don't want to hurt him, but I don't want to marry him. And I don't think he wants to marry me either. Not really. Maybe he feels obligated to help out because that is the way the male brain works. Most of them are wired to protect women and children. He was being the person God created him to be. But I do not want to tie him down. I do not want to tie him down.
Tell me everything is going to be okay. Tell me. . . anything. I can take it. I promise I can.
Love,
Teresa
P.S
There are a few pictures enclosed in the envelope.
She wiped the tears away from her eyes and sniffed as she folded up the letter. She didn't bother to read it through; she knew if she did then she would change her mind about sharing it with him. And she needed to share it with someone because it was killing her to keep it to herself. She stuffed it in an envelope and licked it shut.
Teresa had just finished addressing it when Leah came in with a white paper bag that was no doubt filled with bear claws.
"Hey, what's wrong?" Leah asked. "And don't say anything. I know you've been crying."
"Nothing's wrong," Teresa answered, getting up and going over to the mirror to tie her tie and fix her hair.
"Then why were you crying?" Leah pressed.
"I wasn't. . ."
"Stop lying to me," Leah said. "You're a terrible liar and even if you weren't, the proof is all over your face. Your mascara is running all over the place."
Teresa took a deep breath and swiped her fingers over her cheeks as she hesitated. "Something happened at homecoming. . ."
Leah's face turned white. "Oh no! You're not pregnant are you?"
"What? No! I'm not pregnant!" Teresa answered, her lower lip quivering slightly.
"Then what is it?" Leah asked. "Is it your grandparents? Patrick? Kate? Your brothers?"
"They're all fine," Teresa assured her as she took a deep breath. "Leah, I did something. Something that I regret."
TBC. . .
.
Author's Note II:
Another thing, I am making Angela the way she is because of the direction my muse is taking me. Originally, I was going to go with the show version of Angela but it isn't working out that way. I hope you don't mind too much. Tell me what you think in the box below, if you'd like. I'm off to make dinner!
Love,
Holly, 10/10/2014_