Sunshine and Lemons part VI

Second to last chapter...so many emotions left to deal with.

Liam

I was so angry I could taste it, it stuck in my throat like a burning sensation. I had told her more than I had ever intended, and I regretted some of my outburst, but it felt so good to get it off my chest. However, with so few words, she took it all away with her proclamation. I know my face gave me away, the shock. I had always blamed her for everything, but it would seem my father was responsible for more than I had ever imagined. His fault—my life was all his fault. I gave the driver my address, he seemed a little flustered at the change of location, but turned and went the other way. I just couldn't face my appointment, the poking, prodding—the questions. I just wanted to be alone in my own house.

Once I was dropped off, I found my well hidden, secret key that I kept in the garage and let myself in the back door. I noticed my city issued car was safely ensconced in the garage. I figured someone else would be using it, so I felt just the tiniest bit special that they didn't loan it out from under me. I kicked my shoes off in the mudroom and made my way through the kitchen, checking the fridge to find it completely empty, except for a few bottles of beer, a bottle of ketchup and a jar of pickles. I made it into the living room where I crashed on the couch and was happy to see the remote sitting and waiting for me.

I ran through the recent conversation through my head. Dad forgot the birth control and all these years felt it was his obligation to raise me. I wasn't supposed to be here, I had known that all along, but to hear the specific detail as to how it happened was jarring to say the least. So I was meant to be here, meant for what? Apparently not to die in a building collapse. Suddenly my entire life felt crooked, sloping, allowing me to slide into the unknown. I had blamed my mother for so much and somehow in my mind my existence was her fault. Had I been fair when she returned? Probably not, but emotions are anything but fair. The recent cases I had worked, had shown the true loyalty of a family. We should have lived or died together. But I supposed that's easy for me to say. I can't imagine putting the twins in danger—sacrificing is what adults do, or what those that love their children do. But all her departure did was fuck me up on every level. I paid for her disappearing act—me and Dad. We couldn't seem to overcome the rejection. But perhaps it gave us the very foundation as to what kept us so close—allowing for a relationship we would have never had otherwise. But then she came back and shook that to its core. Everything was so twisted up and broken and I didn't know what to think much less do so I closed my eyes and drifted off, only to wake when I heard my door opening.

If I had been healthy I would have been up and beside the door with something in my hand to protect myself against the possible intruder. I had even absentmindedly reached for my gun which was—well, I had no idea where it was. I had been wearing it when I collapsed and I knew my badge was on the dresser at my dad's house, I suppose the gun had been taken care of and secured.

My heart started to pound, but I tried to relax as I knew my dad, Kyle, and Will all had keys to my place. The door swung open to reveal my dad standing there, a look of relief visible on his face. "Thank God." He sighed as he caught sight of me still sitting on the couch.

I braced myself as I expected him to charge over and smack the shit out of me for speaking to my mother as I had. She had clearly told him what had happened or he wouldn't be here.

"Are you okay?" He asks as he walks towards me.

"Yes sir," I replied, swallowing, despite the fact that my throat was dry.

He walked over, a bag in his hand and sat down next to me, turning so that he could see me. "You didn't go to your appointment?"

"No. I—" I said, unable to finish.

"You what?"

"I just needed not to go. What did Mom tell you."

"Will told me you didn't show up. Mom told me you had words. She had been crying, she tried to deny it but I could tell. I pushed her. All she would say was that she was sorry and that you were coming back to stay here.

"Tell me what was she sorry about?" He asks, his face neutral.

I didn't know what to say. Clearly she hadn't told him much of anything about our conversation. "I can't stay there any longer. I'm struggling, have been struggling since she came back. I don't know if my feelings are valid, but they're mine and I just can't let them go and pretend they don't exist."

"You can't forgive her?"

"No. And I wondered how you could. But I think I figured it out."

"Oh you did?"

"What's in the bag?" I ask, not yet ready to continue.

"A phone. You need it. You needed it before, even at our house. I'm sorry I didn't get to it. It's the same kind that you had before."

"I had my undercover phone. If I had an emergency, I would have used it."

"Well, now you can spend your day reloading your apps. The guy at the phone store got some stuff to transfer, but he said it was probably only twenty-five percent of what you had."

"Thanks. I'll pay you back."

"Your insurance covered most of it."

"I knew there was a reason I got that."

"Probably because you fall on it, toss it around and otherwise abuse it during your days protecting us whilst on the streets. Now tell me why I could so easily forgive your mother."

I had hoped he had forgotten, but I should have known better. "Because you were in love with her. Like soulmate love."

"And," he urged.

"What did she say?"

"Not much. Told me to talk to you."

"I wasn't very nice. But I told her everything I had ever felt and she told me something."

"What?" He asks, his eyes already seeming to know.

"A truth."

"What truth," he asks warily.

"I think you know." He looked at me, his eyes showing the look I often gave when I was in trouble and had to face the repercussions.

"I think I do too. I'm sorry, but there seemed to be no point in telling you the story of your origin."

"So you let it be her fault?"

"I suppose you could look at it that way, but I can't view you as something, someone, that shouldn't have happened. My life without you—I don't know where I would have ended up, what I would have become."

"Please don't say I was meant to be here."

"Clearly you were. And you were loved—are loved and are important to so many people, most of all me. The majority of kids aren't planned, the population would be quite scant if that were true. I love you so much and I hope you know that."

I sighed heavily, my ribs reminding me that they were still there as pain zinged across my chest. "I do know. I've always known. I want to reconcile with Mom, I want to hate her, I want forgive her, I want to distance myself from her. I don't know what to do. Her sacrifices seemed to be my losses, not hers, but now that I'm an adult I can understand them, but I don't know that I can forgive them."

"Try. Forgiving them doesn't mean forgetting them. You may never completely make peace with the decision she made when you were young, but it was the one she felt was best and we all had to live with it, whether we liked it or agreed with it."

"Why couldn't she had just told you the truth?"

"I don't know. Because she knew me well enough not to."

"Seems as if you are still protecting her."

"You didn't know me then, I thought I could take on the world and would win every time. I was careful—I was careful because you were waiting for me at home. But if I was told the truth about her family, I'm not sure what I would have done. I think I would have wanted to try and be together—the three of us. But I couldn't be with you all the time and it wouldn't have worked out well."

"Why not?"

"You know how the job goes. We have to be focused and how focused would I be if I was worried about my family constantly? Your mother knew the danger. She worried for me on the job, she worried for you whenever you were out of her sight.

"We would have looked over our shoulder constantly and would have never been free of an extremely heavy burden and that is no way to raise a child."

"Ignorance isn't always bliss." I counter.

"But it can be a saving grace. Look, we can't change the past. I know that she did what she did out of love for us."

"And that's good enough for you?" I ask him.

"It is. It has to be."

"Does it? Does it have to be?"

"Liam." He sighs.

"She lied, she lied by omission. She said she was going on a trip, she knew damn well she was never coming back, but it was easier for her to lie than tell you the truth—made her escape that much easier. They may have never come looking for her—was she that arrogant to think they couldn't live without her?"

"Look, we don't know what her life was like, what her family was capable of—she had a genuine fear and she acted on it. She did it for—"

"She did it for us—yeah, I know. If that's good enough for you then fine. But I can't swallow it anymore. She hurt you and she hurt me. But I was young, and I had you. But you—your loss was bigger. I couldn't give you what you needed."

"You gave me everything I needed," he says, his face steady.

I shake my head. "I needed a mother, you needed the love of your life, but she walked out on us as if we didn't matter."

"We did matter and that's why she walked out."

We sat in silence for a minute, quietly agreeing to disagree, something we mastered as I headed into my late teens. "I'm sorry Dad," I finally say.

"I'm glad you could at least tell me how you feel."

"I never wanted to—didn't think I could. I mean how can I share the fact that I'm not thrilled with the return of my long lost mother when her abandonment had created such turmoil in my life—our lives. I finally got what I had always wanted—what I had dreamed of, only to find out that I didn't want it anymore."

"Son."

"Dad, don't. I'm happy for you. I'm happy for the twins. This is what is meant to be. I have my career, my friends, you, the twins, Kara and Mackenzie Casey. I'm good. You have your new family and maybe one day I'll have my own. You'll always be a part be of my life, but I just can't pretend that everything is as it should be—not yet, maybe not ever."

"So you're just going to cut your mother out of the equation? You know that won't work, can't work."

"I know, I won't exclude her from my life, but I can't say I'll embrace her either." I say as I stare off into the distance.

Dad shifted on the couch, his face distant, his thoughts his own. I lick my lips and drift along with him.

"Dad," I begin as I try and hide my grimace as I turn to look at him. "This makes me think of when I was ten and went on that little drug deal. I felt overwhelmed with your response, I didn't understand why you reacted like you did—why I was in trouble." I tell him, recalling the event so clearly. I had helped the unit out by procuring a drug sample of a gang that was difficult for the cops to get near. I thought I was a hero, unable to see the danger I had placed myself in, so when I was met with alarm and disbelief I couldn't understand why. It was explained to me, over and over and by different people, but I chose to cling to the fact that I had done something wonderful. And in the end, my frustration basically caused me to tell him "fuck you." Not the best thing for a boy to tell his father.

He seems to awaken and look over at me and chuckle. "If you weren't so banged up I'd put you over me knee again."

"Oh sure you would—if I recall you were pretty guilt ridden about spanking me back then, despite the fact that I totally deserved it."

"Oh you deserved it—my heart had just about stopped when I heard what you did."

"I get why you were scared, but even now, I'm still kind of impressed with myself. Except for the song, I was angry, frustrated, but I had no right—I never meant to convey that message."

"I believe you did, but just in that moment."

"Yeah, young and dumb." I said as I thought of the lyrics to Fuck the Police that came over my speaker that day. "Do you feel that way now? That I'm saying fuck you because I'm distancing myself from Mom? Am I saying that to her?"

"Only you know exactly what your heart is saying and I can't tell you that you aren't allowed to feel that way. Your mother and I weren't in a relationship when she left, but she was your mother and you lost her. I don't know how that feels and I can't pretend that I do. But I just want you to look at the whole picture. I don't you to miss out because of anger that you can't let go. Make sure that you are a part of the equation in your decision. That while you're trying to make her suffer, you don't fall victim to your own retribution.

"I'm afraid, your—reckless attitude of late was exactly that—trying to make her suffer."

"How do you mean?" I ask, but already have a pretty good grasp of what he is alluding to.

"Dying would be the best vengeance wouldn't it? She comes back and then you die—the ultimate abandonment. Suicide can often be about hurting someone else. I just don't want your pain to suffocate everything in your life."

"Dad I wasn't—" I began, but that may have been exactly what I had been doing just as Dr. Charles had implied. So overwhelmed by what her being back meant that I hadn't realized I had given up and was sinking to the bottom of despair. "I'm sorry," I whisper.

"Don't you ever," he began, but tears quieted him. "I love you son," he said as he leaned over and put his forehead against mine.

I mashed my lips together as we parted, trying to keep my own emotions inside. "I love you too Dad."

He stood up and looked at me. "You're not staying alone."

"I've been alone most of the day already."

"But not twenty-four hours. If you fell or something happened it could be way too long before you were found."

"Dad, I'm good. I'll take it slow. I have the phone, I call every six hours if you want. But I just can't go back to your house right now."

"I'm not asking son, I'm telling you. You'll stay at Will's. Who by the way, is not very happy with you missing your appointment. Get that phone charged up, I'll be texting or calling and you damn well better answer."

"I will." I promise as I stand up with effort.

"He's going to pick you up after work, be ready." I open my mouth to protest even though I knew it would be useless. "Don't argue with me Liam."

I close my mouth and then look over at him, his eyes locked-in and no-nonsense. "I'll be ready."

I walk him to the door and watch him drive away as I hoped that one day I would be half the father he was.

I go and sit back down on my couch and pull the phone from the bag and free it from the box and turn the phone on hoping that at least some of my contact list have been saved. Or that at least Reilly's phone number had made it. I'd hate for her to think that I had just been ignoring her. Or had ghosted her. What if she did and she didn't believe what had happened? I can't even understand what our relationship was. It hadn't been intimate, but that didn't matter to me at all—which wasn't like me in the least, so it really seemed like there was something to this union. But I hadn't seen her in months and it was unlikely that she was going to move to Chicago and it was without a doubt not in the cards that I was going to move to her small, north-central Missouri burg. The relationship had nowhere to go, so maybe it was for the best that everything had ended before it really began.

As I was trying to rationalize a failure that I wasn't even sure had happened, I heard more activity at my front door. Thinking that it was my father again I was a little surprised to see Will standing there, with a less than pleasant look on his face.

"What the hell is wrong with you," he yelled before I could say anything.

"I, well—I just," I began.

"You are so done talking." He snaps at me sounding just like my father, the criss-crossed DNA shining through.

Will had come into my life when I was six and we had been pals ever since. He had always made a point to set time aside for me and we had gone one some great adventures. I told him things I wasn't yet ready to share with my father. He gave me advice when I asked and let me bounce things off of him before I made decisions. He guided me when I needed it and occasionally eased bad news my father's way when I was too chicken to say it. I had always felt he was on my side, even when I didn't deserve it. But right now, he was staring me down like a champ, his face redder than his hair and an angry expression that would put my dad's best effort to shame.

I opened my mouth again, but quickly shut it as I got the glare from hell.

"What made you think it was okay to miss your appointment today? You were very seriously injured and we need to closely monitor your recovery and that means not missing any appointments. You nearly died—you should have been dead. It clearly seemed to be what you wanted to happen by ignoring your pain and injuries. Then your fall when you collapsed at your dad's house broke your already cracked ribs and punctured your lung. Plus all the internal bleeding and organ damage. And you dare to miss your appointment after all these people spent their best efforts to put you back together again."

"Uncle Will, I'm sorry. I really am. You're right, I shouldn't have missed it." I state figuring at this point throwing myself at his mercy was my best strategy.

"Then why did you? And don't think I didn't let Dr. Charles know. You needed his blessing to leave the hospital and he can put you right back in."

"It was a rough morning. Mom and I had words. I was in the car heading to the hospital when I just couldn't handle it. I basically told her I didn't want to see her and I wasn't staying at the house anymore."

"I heard. You can't be alone twenty-four hours a day. So you're coming home with me tonight. And I'll take you to your appointment that is now first thing tomorrow morning and considering all the strings I had to pull to reschedule you, you will not miss that appointment even if I have to carry you in there myself."

"Understood," I mumble, feeling like I was ten years old again.

"Since I'm here, I'm going to check you out."

"Uncle Will, I'm fine, I swear."

"Oh, your fine?"

"Well not fine, but I'm improving. I'm being careful."

"Missing an appointment is not being careful. Your liver, spleen, ribs, aorta all have to be closely and regularly checked. Do you not understand how serious your injuries were?"

"I do," I admit, but prefer to forget just how close I was losing it all.

"Then act like it," he says sternly as he pulls his stethoscope out and places it against my chest. I open my mouth to say something but he shoots me a look that keeps me quiet. "Breathe as deeply as you can."

I comply but had to acknowledge it still hurt to expand my lungs to their full capacity. Healing had been slower than I had liked and was clearly a testament to how badly I had been hurt.

"Hurts doesn't it? You were so broken, I'm amazed they were able to put you back together. But you are healing or at least your body is."

"I'm okay Will," I said trying to be the adult that I was.

"Will? Excuse me, that's Uncle Will, now and forever. And you are not okay and you pull another stunt like this and you may find yourself back in the hospital. No more do-overs, am I clear?"

"Yes sir," I tell him as he checks my pulse. This felt like the time when I was fifteen and tried to call my father Jay, that went over as well as leaving out the title of uncle did. They both were so good about keeping me in my place and apparently that was just what I needed.

After a the quick check-up he put the blood pressure cuff away and stood up. "I'll be by tonight to pick you up, pack a few things and be ready. Your appointment in the morning is at 7:30."

"Earlier than I thought," I begin, but quickly quiet as he stares back at me. "No problem though. I'll be ready for you tonight."

Once Will—Uncle Will was gone, I sat back down and began to fiddle with my new phone. I had hope that Reilly's number was in here or since my number was the same and service wasn't interrupted, perhaps she had texted me and I could figure out it was her from the context. But as my messages began to filter in I was instantly overwhelmed with the sheer number of them with no attached names as my contact list was wiped out. I clearly had a problem. This was beyond playing the field—this was over-the-top, each entry held issues I was no longer equipped to deal with. I needed to leave my old life behind. Kyle was right, one of these days my lifestyle was going to bite me in the ass. I was never secretive about my dating different women, but I hadn't realized out of control it had gotten.

I began to tap away and skim the messages, hoping that something would tip me off that it was Reilly. Then I realized that she was the only one I was looking for—the one woman I hadn't actually had sex with. That must be meaningful in some way—like she had something more to offer me than just her body. As I continued to scroll I heard a knock at my door. I figured it must be Will having one more thing to say or maybe he left some important doctor item behind so I made my way to the door, frustration beginning bubble up, and flung it open as hard as my body would allow, practically screaming "what now!" as I realize it is Reilly standing there, her mouth open in uncertainty.

To be continued...

Soundtrack: Vandaveer - Spite Ashes, from Cures What Ails Ya by The Longest Johns