Hiya! I know, I know, it's been like two months since I updated. Sorry about that, writer's block is very brutal and I'm dealing with a ton of crap in my personal life that makes giving my all to these characters - also going through a lot - a bit difficult. I'm trying though, so I applaud myself for that at least.
Today is the 11th anniversary of the FINAL day Secret Life filmed their final episode. 11 years ago Daren and Shai shot that final scene that shattered our hearts into a million pieces. I remember being in my Junior Year photography lab, weeping as the pictures flooded the forums and our chat rooms. Then Matt & Joey's mom posted the picture of the boys with Shai and Daren, and I was a mess. The final picture of them all together. Who knew 11 years later I'd still have that picture hung up - with the twins "autograph" I might add! Seems so long ago, but these types of anniversary dates make me happy because I can remember all the joy this show brought me back then.
Alrighty, enough rambling from me... I told y'all I split this chapter up for a reason... I can't wait for you to read why! ;)
Previously on The Book Of Me & You...
B-Ben!" Was the last thing she remembered saying before static filled her ears and everything went black. The next time she came to, he was on top of her, moaning and panting; his image obscured by black specks and blur.
"No!" Was all Amy could say, repeatedly shaking her head and taking a step back.
Ben sighed, reaching out again but this time to touch her shoulder, "Amy, please let me -"
She recoiled instantly, shoving his hand away, "NO! Don't touch me!" Her eyes were beginning to well up with tears, seeing those eyes that she once remembered were gentle and kind, now being replaced with the image of darkness from that night. She swallowed hard, continuing to shake her head, "Not after what you did..." before turning and walking away as fast as she could.
Tossing the five baby wipes she used in the trash, she put her back on her hip and handed her an empty lipstick tube sticking out of her purse: not expecting that when she pulled the tube out, an unused tampon would drop to her feet. Seeing it, her breath hitched - had she used one since...
Shaking her head again, "No, no, no, no..." Amy moved Emma from her left hip to her right, and rooted for her phone, pulling it out and quickly scrolling through as she counted aloud, "Six... Seven... Eight... Nine..." Pausing, she gulped hard, and bit her lip, "Shit!"
Rushing to her side, Ricky let her collapse into his chest, shushing her cries with a gentle slide of his hand across her back and tightening on her shoulder. "Hey - whatever it is... We can get through it -"
Amy squeezed her eyes shut, grasping onto his shirt for dear life as she uttered the dreaded words aloud, "... Ricky... I'm late..."
Taking some time to process everything, he stayed silent, on the verge of biting his nails as they drummed against his lips. After about a minute, he glanced down at his hands and hesitantly muttered the question plaguing his thoughts, "Is it - is it mine?"
"What do you think!" She roughly replied, clenching her fists at her sides as she fought the urge to throw one of John's stuffed animals at the wall. She was so angry at herself, that she wasn't thinking clearly. His question was valid, and he had every right to think that that potential child, wasn't his. She knew it, but it still made her angry that he would even ask.
Putting his hands up in surrender, Ricky's tone got even lower, shame in his voice for even bringing up the question, "I didn't mean to upset you... but the last time we went through this, you were way later than nine days... and with you having - had - a boyfriend in New York, I -"
Amy's eyes widened at his assumption, hurt that he thought so little of her morals, "You what? You think it's not yours? You think I just hopped into bed with someone I hardly knew?" Scoffing at his shrug, "I wouldn't do that, I'm not you!" Immediately after the words left her lips, she regretted them, because the look on his face, stabbed her. "I - I didn't mean -" She tried to walk it back, grabbing at the air as he huffed slightly and stomped out of the room, "Ricky, I -"
Without a word, he shook his head and plucked the whiny baby out of the playpen, grabbed the diaper bag, and his keys, and slammed the door behind them.
Five.
That's how many times he'd gone by that aisle.
It didn't feel real, and he didn't want it to be. Not now anyway. Yes, he wanted more kids, but he also wanted the kids they already had to grow up a little bit more before bringing another baby into the chaos.
Finally, his left foot made the call, turning so slowly into the aisle, that he feared he'd lose balance and topple over. "We got this," Ricky said under his breath, taking slow inhales and steps further down until he came face to face with the dreaded shelf. The last time he'd done this, ended up backfiring. He'd driven 30 minutes out of town, grabbed the first test he saw, and raced home just for her to not take it. Amy got her period so she wasn't pregnant - or so they thought. But a couple of weeks later - surprise! They find out that not only was Amy pregnant, but she'd been for 14 weeks. Emma was already plotting her arrival before they could grasp they were having a second child.
A woman made her way behind them, perching just below the third shelf to grab a purple and green box of condoms.
Condoms... Oh no.
He stared at the box in her hands, his lips parting just enough to show the tips of his bottom teeth.
His fingertips were grasping onto her thighs, taking little swallows of air to combat his erection getting harder with each bump of her against him. She leaned back against the dash, pushing her chest out further as her fingers hooked the black lace and dragged it down to her ankles. She was already soaking, dripping with intense desire for him, and the more her nails drug along the contours of his jawline, the wetter she got. It drove him crazy, needing to be buried inside her before he exploded.
So when her seductive slurred giggle said she needed him, he nodded and connected his lips to her; drinking in the warmth of them and slipping his tongue against hers with need. She tugged his sweaty curls at the base of his scalp, kicking him into overdrive. Moving the seat back, he watched with lust as she leaned back again, her hardened nipples teasing him behind the matching lace of her bra. He needed her now. And with the shift of his hands, he helped lower her onto him; hissing under his breath, and sharing a relieved moan into their kiss, at how warm and good she felt around him.
The feel of something hitting his shoe snapped him out of his thoughts, blankly staring directly at the woman who raised a brow at him, "You just gonna stare? Or are you going to move?" She quipped, waiting for him to decide so she could exit the aisle. Ricky stood there, unmoving, lost in his thoughts. "Whatever, creep." The woman scoffed, ramming into his shoulder intentionally to get around him.
After another 30 seconds of intense thought and silence, coupled with odd staring into the distance, his eyes looked down and saw what fell against his foot. He also registered that in the reminiscence of his night with his ex, his daughter had managed to fling not one, not two, but seven items to the floor.
Bending to pick them up, Ricky's hand stilled on the box of condoms. They hadn't used condoms that night in the car. He didn't even have one to use. And the drawer he had them in at the apartment hadn't been touched in quite some time either. Which meant that he and Amy had unprotected sex three times in one weekend. That baby, if there is one, was his.
The realization made him panic a little.
Emma shrieked in his arm, thrashing to grasp one of the many boxes still on the floor. She suddenly became very heavy in his grasp, like each wave of her tiny arms tossed a brick onto his shoulders. She was the literal lightest thing in the world to him, but the idea of having another one, made his arm go numb, and a gasp escaped his lips in fear that he would drop her.
"Daadaa! She whined, batting his chest with her palm and rubbing her tired eyes with the other as she yawned.
Picking up the mess two at a time, he shoved them to the shelf at the bottom, taking the last box left and shoving it under his arm as he rose to stand and quickly sprinted out of the aisle and up to the front counter.
Ricky could feel the eyes of the shoppers on him and he tried his best to ignore them. But the reality of being a teenager holding a baby, while grasping a pregnancy test, didn't give him much defense against their judgment. After all, his poor judgment seemingly landed him in this situation.
An elderly lady in front of him, offered to let him go ahead after Emma had started in on one of her fits, and she heard him sigh. Accepting the kind invitation, he gave a nod to the woman and tossed the four items onto the counter.
The lady at the register smiled, using her hand to toss back her braids before touching the baby's arm with a manicured nail and beaming, "You gonna be a big sister, cutie?"
Emma recoiled at the touch, lifting her tired and watery eyes to the ceiling at the bright lights with a whimper. He swallowed quickly, swiping his card with urgency, "Hope not..." and took the bag from the woman's hand.
"You wanna go to bed?" She whispered into his ear, tracing circles into his back with her nails, as he mimicked the action against her forearm. With his head in her lap, he shook his head, fighting his drooping eyes with each swipe across his shirt. "You're tired..." He shook his head again, yawning softly.
The door creaked open, getting her attention. Ricky stepped through without a word - a passed-out baby slung over his shoulder, and a plastic bag hanging off his wrist - and went straight to the bedroom.
Her brow raised at his hurried return into the room, "Where did you g -"
He didn't let her finish, putting a finger to his lips and placing the bag on the coffee table in front of her, "Emma passed out in the car - this is for you." Noting their son atop her lap releasing a yawn, he bit his lip, "I went an hour out of town just to be safe - Did he eat?"
Grabbing the bag, Amy removed one of its contents - a snicker with almonds - and tipped her lip up at the gesture, "I made him some buttered noodles. There's some in the fridge if Emma's hungry."
He returned the small smile, nervously, "We had a burger on the way back. I'll get him to bed." Scooping John up, he cradled his small frame against his chest and disappeared down the hall again.
Ripping open the candy bar, she saw the blue and white box in the bag, and a rush of emotions came over her like a tidal wave.
This was the third time this was happening.
The third time she'd be taking that test out of a box.
The third time she'd be crying silently over the sink, praying it showed something different.
She was barely 19, and already having to wonder if she was pregnant again. At 15, it was unbearable and scary, and it only amplified at 18 because of all the complications their daughter brought, and then... She swallowed roughly, pushing the unpleasant and painful thought from her mind, wrapping the candy bar back up, grimacing at the bag on the table, and getting up to go into the kitchen. The dishes from their dinner were still on the table, as well as some discarded sippy cups and bottles he was probably too busy to get to. Putting on the gloves, she cleared the table and the counters and got to work.
About 5 minutes later, his footsteps trailed into the room; his breathing was slightly labored like he'd been preparing for a fight. But when he stayed silent and moved to help her, she felt the guilt of her words to him, weighing heavy in the air. She wasn't about to fight with him, because there wasn't a reason to. She was in the wrong and she knew it. She created this mess and unfortunately dragged him into it by telling him a half-truth, making it now his problem too. So the baseless comment she spewed in rebuttal at him, had every right to hurt him and make him angry. So she just let him be.
It stayed silent between them until all the dishes were done and put away, neither one of them knowing what to say that wouldn't somehow start an argument.
Unable to take the tension, Amy finally relented with a heavy sigh, "I'm sorry what for I said before..."
Ricky's eyes were still down, focused on fiddling with the torn placemat that needed to be replaced, "It's fine."
Stilling his hand with hers, and making him lift his gaze, she shook her head, "No, no it's not. I shouldn't take my anger about myself, out on you. You don't deserve it. You've changed a lot, and I shouldn't have drug up the past, I'm sorry, Ricky. I really am."
The little jolt from her skin on his, made his lip turn up just a hare. That spark was still there. "Thanks, I appreciate it." When she walked away with a slow nod, he felt the tightening in his stomach; the sick feeling of having to face what could be, head-on. "... Amy... what does this mean... for us?" His voice was low, barely above a whisper, "How are we supposed to parent another child when we don't even have our own relationship sorted out?" She stayed silent, her back to him. He swallowed, hesitantly, picking up the white and blue box from the coffee table, "Do you want me to be there when you -"
Turning on her heel, she wiped the tears from her cheeks and took the box from his hand, shaking her head sadly, "No, I uh, I need to do this on my own."
Nodding slowly, his hands fell to his sides, "OK. I'll be right here if you need me."
"You're only young once. You should be having a little fun!" Her mother's words echoed from the hallway, obliviously making dinner while she stood inside the small bathroom. Three minutes set on the timer of her phone.
Three... two... one...
The rush of panic flooded over her; knees weak, blood draining from her body as she turned the stick over and released a loud sob.
He was standing outside the door, biting his nails nervously. When he heard her start to sob, he tapped a finger to the door, "Amy? Hey, Amy, you okay?" She couldn't speak, just continued to squeak through heavy cries coming from her lips. Ricky didn't wait for her permission, and opened the door, reaching out to wrap her in his embrace as he tried to stay calm, "It's going to be okay, I promise. We can - we can raise this baby together just like the other two..."
Shaking her head vigorously, Amy choked on air as she whimpered, "I can't-" barreling past him without a glance, and running out of the apartment.
Confused by her reaction, he thought it best to see for himself. And with a deep, held breath, he willed himself to stare down at the test facing him in the trash can.
His stomach was in knots, unprepared to see the sign that would inevitably change his life. Three kids before he was 21 - what a great accomplishment. More ridicule. More judgment. More stress. More chaos. And then there was the sword hanging above their already fractured relationship - would another child push them even further apart? Would it bring them closer? Or would she just completely shut down and run away again permanently, leaving him to be a single father to three kids while she cut herself off from any responsibility?
So many scenarios were running through his already exhausted mind, it was no surprise that he felt dizzy and bile crept up his throat. Swallowing it back, he closed his eyes and with one deep inhale, opened them to see their fate.
Ricky's breath hitched, lips pursing at the evidence of her hysteria.
One single blue line stared back at him, which meant that the test was negative, and Amy wasn't pregnant.
Taking hold of her hand and kissing it gently, he knew what she was feeling now; they couldn't just disregard this baby, It was theirs and that brought him happiness but it also brought him fear. "I'm scared Amy." He quivered, "I can't lose you. I just can't. I'll die if I lose you."
She felt her chest tighten slightly, fully understanding where all his fears were coming from, but she had to be strong for all of them in this situation, "You're not going to lose me, I'm right here; I'm not going anywhere, okay? I'm staying right here so I can nag you every day of our lives."
His brow rose slightly, unbelieving that she could make a joke about something so serious. "How can you joke about this? Aren't you just even the slightest bit afraid?"
The cracks were starting to show through, the humor disappearing, "No…" she sniffled, "I'm terrified…"
"Me too" Twisting the wedding band around his finger, he bowed his head to the floor "I'm afraid our story won't have a good ending…"
That made her chest ache, because as much as she refused to say it aloud... she was also thinking it. If the worst did happen, he'd be left here, heartbroken to raise their son alone. But if she allowed herself to give in to those thoughts, she'd never get out of bed, or ever stop crying. "Hey," She soothed, lifting his chin with her hand, "our story already has the greatest ending. You know why? Because we're together"
"I love you, you know that, right?" He whispered, circling his hand around her large bump.
She smiled, placing both of her hands to rest on his. "I love you too"
"And I love you." Bending his head to rest upon her stomach, he kissed it gently. "Promise"
The jab got harder, causing her to release a little gasp, "Someone's excited to meet their daddy" He smiled again, raising his head to place a kiss on her lips.
"Daddy, you rwe-ed to me?" The little squeaky voice asked, accompanied by the patter of his bare feet against the hardwood. The blanket was wrapped around his body, chewing on the end as he barreled into his side with a giggle.
"C'mere, I wanna show you something." Ricky was gentle with him, turning his small frame so he was facing her, before reaching out to touch her belly again - this time moving it around in a circle, "The baby is moving, buddy - wanna feel it?"
John's tired brown eyes blinked slowly as he shook his head and extended his small palm to her shirt, mimicking his father's motions until he too, felt the little hiccup. Taking his hand away just as quickly, his eyes widened, "w-oa!"
Amy nodded at his enthusiasm, "That's your little brother or sister saying hi to you!"
Pursing his lips in the same way that she often did, he cocked his head slightly and leaned forward to rest his head on her belly, a confused look on his face, "w-hy he jus n-ot ta-awk-in, mommy?"
They both chuckled at the question. "Well because he's still growing in mommy's tummy. He'll talk a couple of months after he gets out though." Ricky stated to John, lifting him to place him on his lap for a quick snuggle.
Patting his cheek, his brow furrowed, "h-h-ow he jus go-in c-um ou-t dere?
Unprepared by the toddler's curiosity, he swallowed quickly and looked at her. Amy shrugged, not knowing how to help her husband explain how she was going to push that baby through her vagina and bring it into the world. He'd have the answer. He always did.
Pausing for another couple of seconds, Ricky opened his mouth slowly, "Why don't we go read?" He finally said, wanting to get his son's attention on literally anything else but the birth of his sibling. That answer seemed to suffice because John nodded and jumped down, grabbing his hand and pulling him towards the bedroom. Rising, he followed him, turning on his heel when they got halfway to the hallway, "You coming?"
With a silent nod, she leaned back on her hands and mustered a small smile. He nodded back and proceeded to follow his lead until they both were out of sight.
Expelling a heavy breath, a few tears rolled down her cheeks, and she moved her hands slowly around her protruding belly, "It's just you and me for a few more months, kid." The rowdy child inside her sent another small jab to her abdomen, "Then you'll get to meet your big brother John, and your daddy... who will inevitably become your favorite person because he's amazing." Amy sniffled, "We'll be one big happy family..."
"Ames, you coming or what?" His voice carried in from the bedroom.
Followed by the squealy, slightly congested shout of, "Mommy!"
The loud, annoying sound of a beep interrupted the memory, causing her to blink a few times to register her surroundings. Nothing looked familiar, and there wasn't a sign anywhere to indicate where she was.
After running out of the apartment, Amy had gotten into her car and just hit the gas without a second thought of where she was going. And as the memories flooded her head, she continued to drive; drive away from the responsibilities, the problems her selfishness had caused, and away from those dark, sad, eyes.
Ricky was being so supportive of her, even going an hour away to get a pregnancy test... so why wasn't she thankful? Why wasn't she ecstatic that the test was negative, and that she wasn't carrying Ben's baby? The problem was averted and Ricky would never have to know what happened in New York. Because as much as she didn't want to admit it, a part of her clung to the desperate hope that she was carrying Ricky's baby and that somehow it would right all the wrong she had done to him: fix their fractured relationship, and give them back what was so cruelly taken from them without their knowledge.
They hadn't discussed having more kids in-depth since that night in New York. Sure, they mentioned it after what they then thought was a pregnancy scare, but never definitively. He had said one was fine, and she agreed, but then Emma came along and they never brought it up since. Did he even want more kids? Did she? John was still very young, and Emma wasn't even a year yet - it was way too soon to be even having the discussion. Could she even carry another child after her body nearly killed her after Emma's traumatic birth and the... Not allowing the images to appear behind her eyes, she shook her head again, and heeded the warning of the blinking light, taking a sharp turn into a brightly lit quick-stop gas station on the left of the otherwise desolate road.
Pulling up to the pump closest to the road, she got out slowly and rifled through her purse on the seat, hastily. Her fingers brushed the keychain Adam had given her, "You're nothing but a stupid slut!" The last words he ushered to her, as the broken glass surrounded them, rushed into her ears, filling her with anger as she took the object and chucked it as hard as she could across the parking lot.
"Hey, lady!" A voice shouted from behind the pump next to hers, "Watch where you're tossing your garbage!" His voice was gruff, but not alarming.
She scoffed irritatingly and shrugged, "Sorry, it's just been a shitty day."
"Well... it's about to get worse -" He stated, stepping further out into the brightly lit concrete, and motioning towards her card with his index finger, "That's a prepay pump." Great, even more people to face! She groaned, taking her card out and stomping towards the entry with a huff.
10 people were lined up in sync from the front to the back, leaving very little space for anyone else to enter the slightly dingy store without knocking into someone, or something. This is precisely what she did: tripping on the rug, she fell onto a small shelf littered with 6-packs of cheap beer.
"Nooo, I don't want to!" She whined in protest like John often did when he wanted something they told him no to. The last place she wanted to be was out in the public. Given the hell she'd endured the last 24 hours, it was cruel to make her socialize with people. It sucked that Emery was persistent, and if she wanted to keep her secret - or secrets - from her, she couldn't allow herself to make her roommate suspicious. "Just let me go back to the dorm, where I can waste away on my bed!" The bed was safe and could hold her heartache like nobody else, and it didn't judge: just took the tears, and the smeared makeup into its fibers like a locked box.
Grabbing her arm, "No, you need this! What is wasting away going to accomplish?" Emery continued pulling her towards the entrance, pausing to grip her shoulders before they reached the door, "Girl, Ricky isn't the only guy in the world. Sure he's hot, but..." Pursing her lips outward, she shrugged, "You know the old saying - the best way to get over someone, is to get under someone else... Or top - whatever your preference is."
Amy's eyes widened at her idiotic suggestion - clearly, this girl knew nothing about her, "Em! Ew, no!" She tried to hide the hurt by ushering a playful scoff, but it just as quickly turned into a frown, "Ricky isn't just some guy I can 'get over' by sleeping with someone else..." The thought of being with anyone else made her want to puke. And it didn't help that every time someone said his name, his face that last time she saw him, would appear in the back of her mind. Shaking her head, she let out a sigh, "I wouldn't do that to him - or myself for that matter. I'm not like that."
Em shrugged again, yanking on the brass handle and stepping through, "Suit yourself. Try to have fun tonight, please - moping brings down the vibe in here."
Mocking her with a grimace, Amy reluctantly followed into the dark and dingy place that smelled like soured milk and socks. She wrinkled her nose in disgust at all the bodies pressed tightly together on the slab of concrete that she assumed was supposed to be the dance floor: Its lights were enough to give her a headache with the way they strobed from blue to yellow to red quickly with the beat of the awful music. Red isn't a good color right now.
She could barely hear Emery, and from the looks of it, Em could barely hear anything either. She had her fingers plugging her right ear, as she shouted something to a tall guy with blue and green hair who sported the same kind of lip rings that Adam did, and had a tattoo of three singular birds flying together, on his neck.
The music got louder, pulsing from the speaker above the bar. She saw the guy's lips move and couldn't make out what he was saying, but the next thing she knew he used his fingers to slide a small glass covered with salt and filled to the brim with a purple liquid over to her. It looked like the diluted Kool-Aid Ricky made John all the time - not wanting him to have too much because of the sugar on his teeth. Sometimes he'd go a little over and barely put any Kool-aid in it, and John would protest because he could tell the difference, so he'd have to redo it or drink all the purple-flavored water himself. The thought of his disgust at drinking the bland pitcher, made her chuckle sadly under her breath. She missed them... missed him.
The guy - who she assumed was named Ax, if she read Emery's lips correctly - nodded his chin up at her, before Em shook her head and slid the glasses away, towards herself, distinctively waving her hand in the air, taking one of them and pressing it to her lips as she said, "Just me. She's not like that." With a cautious glare.
Amy couldn't tell if it was a genuine look of concern or a snark-filled one. Was Emery truly looking out for her because she knew she was a mess and it could spiral quickly? Or did she just want to rub it in her face that she was the party girl of her group, and someone as boring as she couldn't keep up? Either way, she was sick and tired of people assuming things about her. Heck, she was sick of people in general... except two very small people who had his dimples...
Taking a breath, she took a seat on one of the sticky leather stools, apprehensively. Might as well make herself as comfortable as she could because, by the looks of it, Em wasn't going to leave anytime soon.
So she did.
Amy sat there, with a fake smile plastered to her face to shield the onlookers from the glazed blank stare she was giving the row of liquor bottles behind Ax before setting her sights on the single cube of ice sinking slowly to the bottom of the glass. That's how she felt: slowly allowing the tsunami to crash into the tattered remains of her; wash her away and take her out to the sea with the scattered debris of what she thought had been her happy little life.
Now all that remained was a broken girl who had to bite the inside of her cheek so hard, she tasted blood, to keep from collapsing into gut-wrenching sobs against the dirty flat piece of wood supporting her elbows as the nurse's words sliced deeply through her.
So without thinking, she grabbed the glass and tipped it back; the pain in her throat being replaced by a vile burn, and his face in the back of her mind, starting to blur a hare as she slammed the glass on the counter. That was it. That was how she was going to rid herself of Ricky... drown his image and his memory from her mind; become weightless and thoughtless to whatever - or whoever - it was that he was doing back in California.
With a nod, she lifted her index finger in the air for a refill. Ax got the gist and continued pouring, watching her with a smirk at each one she downed like candy in her palm. The purple liquid coursed through her veins, and tasted so vile it made her want to puke, but it was numbing her; burying all the agony stirring inside at the secret she was keeping from him, until her vision started to get spotty. Blinking rapidly, she could barely make out Emery's opened mouth expression at her, but she could hear Ax mumble through a smirk, "Adam's gonna have his hands full with her"
Adam... For some reason, the sound of his name, and the thought of him rushing into the building looking for her, made her smile. And that smile, made her drink, and before she knew it, she was stumbling her way to the dance floor, shot glass in hand, giggling like a deranged lunatic.
"Next!" A voice shouted, rolling his eyes as she just stood there, unmoving. It took a rough shove from the disgruntled customer behind her, cutting in front of her with a scoff, to break the trance and come back to reality.
With an embarrassed shrug, Amy stepped up to the counter, and put a crisp $20 bill on the marble, "20 on pump 6, please." As the clerk - who wasn't much older than she was - moved to the side, her eyes locked on the row of alcohol behind him, and with a bite of her lip, she tapped the register with her nail and pointed up, "and two of the ones on the left."
He raised a brow, but shrugged and held out his palm, "ID?"
She gulped back a wave of panic - completely forgetting that she wasn't 21, and although Ax served her underage, it was still against the law. "U- uh - um -" She started to stutter, rifling through her purse to appease him even though she knew her ID was on the top, and that it wasn't going to work - she had to try something else. Giggling like a ditzy cheerleader, she lifted her eyes to the clerks, biting the very tip of her bottom lip with her teeth to play the part, "You know what, I must have left it on the mantle again! I am such a scatterbrain. I honestly would probably forget my head if it wasn't attached."
Her charm wasn't working because the clerk rolled his eyes again, "No ID, no vodka. Now go. Next!"
"I got it!" A man's voice stated from behind her before stepping out from the line to join her at the counter. It was the guy from the parking lot. "I'll take them - here" He flipped his wallet out, giving her a wink as he did. The clerk didn't argue with him as he handed him the bottles and deposited the cash into the register, not caring what happened once they walked away.
Getting out to the parking lot, "You didn't have to do that." Amy mumbled, kicking a rock across the asphalt as the sky began it's steady drizzle
He chuckled, making his eyes squint, and handed the bottles to her. "Don't worry about it. That kid's kind of a hard-ass - his daddy owns this place and he's been busted a couple of times for hijacking the top shelf for some parties. Guess daddy finally brought the hammer down." Glancing at her, he looked down at his boots, "If you don't have anywhere to be tonight, and want to avoid the storm... my place is just a couple miles up the hill... wanna share one of those?"
This wasn't happening - surely she wasn't getting hit on by some random guy in the gas station parking lot.
Embarrassed, her lips parted and her eyes widened, "Oh - I - I don't think my husband would like that very much..."
His eyes also widened, the embarrassing blush coming to his cheeks, "Oh - I'm so sorry! I didn't - You're not wearing a ring so..."
Looking at her naked hand, she let out a fake chuckle, "Oh yeah, no, I'm such a clutz and lose it all the time I just decided to stop wearing it out all the time. I mean how many more times can you retrace every step you take to look for it? It drives my husband crazy after all the money he spent - but what can you do? You know?" She caught his eyes shifting to his truck like he was eager to leave, and drew her cheeks up, "I'm sorry - I'm rambling. I do that when I'm nervous."
With a shake of his head, he waved his hand at her with a smile, "It's fine - enjoy the vodka, I should be heading back." Putting his hand out, his smile widened, "I'm Travis, by the way."
Tucking the bottles in the bend of her left arm, she giggled and stuck out her hand, "Am-" Pausing for a millisecond, she let the lies continue to roll off her tongue, "Amelia" Wait a second, was she... flirting with this guy?
Slipping her hand out of his friendly shake, Amy gulped again, mentally contemplating taking this stranger - Travis - up on his offer. She needed someone to talk to, but the last time she mixed honest conversation with alcohol... she woke up wrapped in a sheet and puking her guts up between bouts of unconsciousness. And if she did go this route, Ricky would truly never forgive her. Even though he said the ball was in her court, and they could continue to see other people... she knew him: If she went out with a stranger or worse... it would be the final nail in their coffin. He would decide she wasn't worth his time anymore, it would be over between them other than sharing the kids.
With a little wave, Travis drove away and she sighed heavily into the night, cursing her desire for that dark, tortured, brooding, drummer who had her falling for him at Bandcamp.
And cursing herself for falling so in love with him, it made her ache to be without him.
It's me! It's me, Amy. Leave a message!" Her voicemail chimed out leading into the loud beep he was all too familiar with.
Running his fingers into the top of his curls, Ricky sighed into the receiver, "Hey, me again. I know this is like the seventh message I've left, but I'm -" He paused, not wanting to spook her, "you just left so quickly, we never -" another pause, "just call me back - please." Hanging up, he tossed the device across the cushion and turned to walk into the kitchen. It had been hours since he shared his dinner with Emma, and with all this going on, it was no wonder his stomach released a grumble.
Opening the fridge, he saw the bowl of buttered noodles Amy had saved on the top shelf and pulled them out, popping the lid and tossing them in the microwave. As the digits worked backward from 30, he gripped the countertop and blanky stared out the window, seeing her face in the smudged glass: the way her lip wobbled as she grasped his t-shirt, "... Ricky... I'm late..." and uttered those words aloud; the sheer terror in her eyes when she finally looked at him, said it all. And the reminder of them, made him gulp back the lump in his throat.
A drum beat filled the otherwise silent apartment, sending him sprinting to the sofa with a held breath that it was her. But when he saw the name on the screen that said Clementine, he couldn't help but shake his head and sigh louder, going back to the microwave beeping obnoxiously to alert him his dinner was done. Taking the bowl out, he grabbed a fork from the dish drainer by the sink and dug in; chewing the dry, flavorless mound of food with distraction, and slight disgust at the fact that John loved them so much.
"You're ridiculous!" She growled at him from their son's bed, putting the pile of neatly folded laundry on his nightstand.
"I'm not ridiculous! How do you think this makes me feel, huh? I'm the one who has to sit by and feel betrayed as these damn letters keep coming!" He snapped back, shaking his head in disbelief at her as he shook yet another letter from Hudson in his clenched fist. They were shielded inside the bedroom, having the same argument they'd had for weeks about Hudson University and New York.
Taking a deep inhale through her mouth, she started to chuckle under her breath at his paranoia and how ridiculous everything was. Ricky raised a brow at her outburst, "What's so funny?"
"You!" Amy answered with a snort, "This - arguing about this stupid letter to that stupid school that you and I both know I'm not going to!" His brow rose higher - surely she'd gone mad from the lack of sleep they both were suffering from to think all of this was hilarious. He stayed silent for a minute, as she asked, "Do you love me?"
Taken aback by her question, his lips parted quickly, "of course I do -"
She interrupted him with a giggle, "Then trust me, will you?"
Pursing his lips, he nodded, apologizing, "I'm sorry, Amy... it's just the thought of being without you... makes me a little crazy -" getting cut off sharply by the beckoning wail of their youngest child on the other side of the small apartment.
"A little?" Amy sighed at the disturbance, "I get it. And I'm sure the lack of sleep isn't helping..."
Wrapping his arm around her shoulders, Ricky pecked her temple and chuckled softly, "No, no it does not"
Walking out into the living room, they couldn't help but pause seeing their son crouched on the floor next to his sister, a bowl of noodles nestled in his lap. Emma was screeching, and John was frantically trying to figure out what she wanted: patting the top of her head, shushing her cries, and putting the pacifier back into her mouth, to no avail.
Seeing his parents standing there, his back straightened quickly worried he was going to be reprimanded, "Um - um, Em-ma wook-ed hu-ngwee, and I - I not see mommy so I jus f-weed-ed her..." A noddle fell from his fingers, landing on her pink polka-dotted onsied chest.
They exchanged looks at each other, shamed by the fact that they were arguing in the bedroom while John was trying to comfort his little sister.
Taking the noddle off her chest, the tot pushed himself back with his hands as the baby continued to cry, with a stern, "Em-ma y-you jus h-av to dw-ink mommy's mi-lk, c-uz - c-uz de-ez jus mine!"
Exchanging another look, Ricky walked over to him, running his hand over the shaggy hair covering his eyes, "That's sweet of you to share buddy, but Emma's still too little for that kind of food."
Amy nodded, leaning down to gather the baby drenched in her saliva, inside the bouncy seat on the floor, into her arms, and over to the sofa.
John watched with curious eyes at his sister nursing against his mother's chest, just as Ricky grabbed a noodle from the bowl and put it in his mouth, grimacing at the bland, dryness hitting his tongue. "That's yucky."
With a sharp shake of his head, he wrinkled his nose at his father and slurped three noodles into his mouth with a giggle.
Blinking a couple of times, the memory faded, the bowl was empty and a loud cry was beckoning him to the other side of the tiny apartment.
She stumbled getting up, slipping on the blanket clutched in her right palm and tumbling down with a cry. The door opened slowly and he came into view, causing her to rise again and grasp the bar above her head for dear life, and pressing her mouth to it. Ricky cocked his head at her cries, giving a glance at his watch before plucking his daughter out of the crib, and over to the dresser, noting she needed a changing.
Once done with his task, he kissed her forehead and scooped her up, trying - but failing - to settle her back into the crib, as she bucked and squirmed with a death grip on his shirt, a puckered lip, and whimpered cries - cries that stirred the tired toddler in the bed two feet away. John lifted his head slowly, grunting with a swipe of his hand to his cheek before dropping back like a stone against the pillow. Ricky blew out a breath - crisis averted - and hiked the tired baby higher on his hip, tiptoeing out of the room quickly, and shutting the door carefully behind him. One cranky child's wake-up call he could deal with, but both of them... was a disaster.
Seeing that the bathroom light was still on, he shifted her weight in his arm, to shut it off, catching a glimpse of the negative test lying at the top of the trash can. He swallowed roughly, a piece of him saddened by the fact that Amy wasn't pregnant and that Emma would inevitably be their last child together. She whined in his ear, releasing a soft grunt through a tired yawn as she rubbed her eyes with her fist.
Going to the living room, he shifted her to the playpen - expecting the instantaneous bout of cries she released - as he pulled out the sofa bed, put the covers and pillows on it - making sure to use the cushions, and the extra pillow, as barriers in case she decided to roll away from his reach - and climbed atop the mattress.
"Time to go to sleep," Ricky slurred, lying flat on his back as his eyes got heavier, and bending his arm over her small body. Emma was wound up, lifting her legs to grab and play with her sock-covered feet, squealy babble mixed with her blinking, watery green eyes. Tilting his body just a hare, he grabbed the thin rainbow-covered blanket to drape over her, and put the pacifier into her mouth, shushing her with his finger to his lips, "Daddy put you in his bed so you'd go back to sleep. It's night-night time, Emma..." She looked at him with a tired grunt, her breathing evening out, flexing her little fingers against his arm. He let his eyes close, only to open them a moment later as she rose to a sitting position, and draped half her body across the left side of his chest, resting her head on his ribs.
"Comfy?" He chuckled, going with it and running his palm soothingly across her back. She grunted again, grasping onto his t-shirt and sucking the pacifier in her mouth vigorously. His lip tipped up slightly, and he grabbed his phone from the nightstand and angled it to take a picture. He needed to document moments like this so he'd have them to look at whenever things got rough.
Looking at the image, Ricky's smile waned - their baby looked so much like Amy, even down to the way she slept against him. He swallowed the lump forming in his throat and released a tired sigh, muttering softly into the darkened room, "Wherever you are Amy - whatever you're doing - I hope you're okay..."
Sniffle
Sob
Swig
Repeat.
That's all she did for who knows how long time had passed. Falling more into the pit of despair with each new twinge of anger in his voice; hidden between the breaths he took into the receiver to calm his rising temper from unleashing. And with each new chime of the robotic voice cold delivering of "new message", it only made the pain, and the thought of his disgust, worse.
Forty-five.
That's how many messages she never bothered to listen to.
45 messages she never bothered to return.
45 more reasons for him to never forgive her.
This wasn't how the night was supposed to play out. She was supposed to be celebrating John's first day of school with him, maybe somewhere special just her and John. But instead, she was confined to this cycle of self-destruction.
Sniffle.
Sob.
Swig.
Repeat.
The harsher his tone blaring from the speakers of the SUV, the harder she drank.
Message 46: The one she never would have found had she not decided to finally do what she neglected to do in New York - check her messages from him.
Expecting to hear yet another huff of his gruff voice - asking her to pick up the phone, or tell her to call him back - she was floored when it wasn't his voice at all.
It was John's.
"Mommy?" He paused into the receiver, breathing slightly elevated, "Mommy... um - um, mommy I -" He sniffled through a hiccup, "I jus wa-nt you, mommy! M-momm-yy y-you c-um hwom now!" His words were shielded by his sobs until the line went dead and silence took over.
Letting the tears fall fast down her cheeks, she wept and extended her hand to replay the message.
"It's a boy!" Dr. Roe cheered, holding up his tiny, screeching body for everyone to see. He was covered in blood, but other than that he was perfect.
She felt as though a weight had been lifted as the nurse placed a cloth on her shoulder and then put him atop it. His bottom lip trembled as he cried, making her cry too. She touched his cheek softly with the pad of her thumb, mesmerized by his red and scrunched-up face, staring back at her. He looked different than Amy had imagined - more like Ricky; his hair a very light blonde, his eyes the same shape as his, and his nose too. It seemed only fitting that he would resemble him, after all, he did share his DNA.
Most of the time, the thought of him would make Amy's blood boil with rage at the fact that Ricky used her, and left her alone... but in that moment there wasn't any anger. No resentment. No hatred. Because without Ricky, and without doing what they did, she wouldn't be clutching this piece of her; no longer hidden inside her where all he could do was move around and kick. The baby they created was here, expanding his lungs with screams of greeting to all those around him. To her.
It was also in that moment, as his loud cries quieted to soft whimpers, and his tiny hand curled around her finger, that she truly understood why Ricky had fought against her so hard. He knew Amy would never be able to see their son's face, or hold him in her arms, and then just pass him off to someone else. This was their son. And although he came from the mistake of two teenagers caught up in the summer heat and raging hormones, he would be loved by those two teenagers.
"You want me to tell Ricky he's here?" Her dad asked quietly, motioning towards the door, "he's been standing out there for a while..."
Still slightly groggy from the epidural, Amy glanced at her son again before giving a small nod.
When Ricky walked in, his face held an expression she couldn't place - fear maybe? And just as quickly as he appeared, he disappeared - and so did the memory.
Sniffle
Sob
Swig.
"It's a... girl!" Dr. Owens announced with caution in his voice as he held her up. Her entry into the world was much different than John's. She didn't come out screeching with joyous greeting... she came out fighting for every bit of air that her lungs would allow; short and strangled cries were her welcome into the world.
"It's a girl! You did it Ames, we have a daughter -" Amy heard the happiness in his voice, and saw the way his eyes sparkled seeing their baby for the first time. She did it - she got her out and now they had a little girl. He had a daughter to dote over and be completely wrapped around her little finger.
Through her slitted vision, she could tell something was wrong. The looks on the doctor's faces when they placed the baby in the incubator, didn't provide much comfort. Their baby was too tiny, and not supposed to come this early - but what else was wrong with her? Amy's lips parted to ask, but as they did she felt her heartbeat getting slower and before she could register what was happening, her head began to feel fuzzy.
Ricky's voice was yelling, but it was distorted like he was underwater. The fingers on her body felt cold, and the air in her lungs felt heavy. Her baby across the room, still struggled to breathe, giving her incredibly tiny lungs a workout to even get a breath, while hers were giving out; breathing out the breaths that once gave that baby life inside her body; slipping away into the darkness with each slow rise of her chest.
All Amy could picture as the darkness closed in, was them. Her family. Ricky, John, and their daughter are all together and happy. They hadn't even named her yet, never being able to decide. Now they wouldn't have to. She would go on and live a happy life surrounded by people who would love her and protect her, and Amy would fade away after bringing her into the world. That's how it was supposed to be. She knew that now. So when her heart began to barely beat, and the darkness enveloped her like a blanket, she didn't fight it, and let it take her away.
The bottle fell to the ground with a sickening shatter, her hand trembling as it lost grip.
Looking down at the ruin of broken glass sprinkled across the once-dry concrete, she caught sight of her wrist - the tiny pink scar still visible.
With a gulp, she picked up a piece of the shattered bottle, replaying her last incident like it had happened yesterday.
Twirling it in her fingers, her mind shut off, forgetting everything but the pain and sorrow she was feeling at that moment. The thin shard was still poking at the flesh, drawing tiny drops of blood.
Choking on the tears, she drew in a shaky breath; dragging the discarded piece of ruin against her skin slowly, scratching the surface. The pain wasn't intense, it didn't radiate until there was no feeling left, it simply was dull, the type she felt when John's bed ripped at her bare legs if she hit it just right. Another shaky breath pressed the glass deeper, ripping at the once smooth sealed skin.
STOP! A voice hollered from the back of her mind, but it was too late.
Her screams filled the small space as the tears blurred her vision; the flesh of her wrist sealed just seconds ago, now broken; blood oozing down her pale skin onto the dirty, glass-littered floor.
She could feel the burn of the cut just by envisioning it; the sticky mess of red pouring out of the wound as she trembled and sobbed.
No. Not again.
Closing her eyes, Amy shook her head vigorously and tossed the broken glass into the distance, drunkenly stumbling into the side of the car before taking a slow slide down it and bellowing out a loud, heartbroken, scream into the dark sky.
"Hello?" He quickly jolted up, answering on the second ring. The other end was starting to break up, but he could hear a fit of what sounded like giggles between the breaks. His brow rose concerned, "Amy? Amy is that you? Where are you?" She didn't say anything, just kept giggling. He knew something wasn't right and a lump formed in his throat. Everyone had been trying to reach her all night, and now she called just to giggle into the receiver. No, something was amiss. Without giving it another thought, he got out of bed, "Stay right where you are - I'm on my way."
Beside him, she rolled over groggily, not yet awake enough to register what he was doing. Kissing her forehead, "Go back to sleep", he slipped quickly and quietly out the door.
After driving for over an hour, the beeping became closer. Having to resort to extreme measures, he called David and asked for the GPS tracker embedded inside the car's emergency system. He was desperate, unable to stop his mind from going to the worst possible scenario. She still wasn't answering, and given that it was the middle of the night, he had no way of knowing where she was - so really what choice did he have? He could feel that she wasn't okay and that she needed help.
The beeping got louder, signifying her car was extremely close - and hopefully so was she.
Glancing out the window through the foggy drizzle still descending from the clouds, he saw the SVU darkened by the shadows of the trees, and without thinking, stopped the car, shut off the engine, and ran out - stopping in his tracks upon seeing her silhouette in the distance. She was over by a ledge, body slightly bent over the barricade bar waving her arms in the air like she was swaying to an invisible song dancing in the wind. Posing like she was on the Titanic, with the other bottle gripped tightly in her palm.
"Amy..." He half-shouted her name, taking slow steps, but careful not to spook her, "Ames..."
Her movements stilled, having heard a familiar voice behind her, she turned slightly, grasping the bar with her left hand so she wouldn't lose balance and topple over the ledge. His eyes widened at the sight of her disheveled appearance; the thick streaks of mascara running down her pale cheeks, her eyes glazed over while her body struggled to stay upright. He was about to say her name again when she turned back to the water, staring so deeply into it, that he feared she'd jump.
"Have you ever watched the water crash against the rocks?" Amy slurred, tipping back just a hare, and moving her hands in the air, "It just moves and moves so silently until... boom! Big jagged rocks get swept under..." Her ramblings made his brow crease, knowing now that she was intoxicated. She clicked her tongue against her teeth, "Kinda like life, huh? I mean we push and push through each day until... one day... the water just crashes and pulls us under..." Tilting the half-full bottle of Vodka to let it drip steadily into the water, "No more questions, no more expectations... just... silence...peace..." With a sway forward, she put the bottle to her lips, prepared to slip into the darkness beckoning from the water.
With one hard grab of her wrist, "No! You're not doing this - you hear me! Give it here!" He wrestled her, pinning both her arms with his hands, tears in his eyes and pleading in his voice because he didn't even recognize the girl staring back at him. Whoever she was, she wasn't his little Amy. "This is not what you've become - it's not!" Releasing one of his hands from her arm, he reached for his wallet and pulled out a small photograph, holding it up for her glazed eyes to see.
It was of the four of them in the hospital the morning she and Emma were being discharged - Ricky had enlisted Maxine's help with taking it because he wanted to remember that moment.
It had a slight crease in it from being shoved in the back behind an old credit card, and it was slightly damp from the rain hitting it, but you could still see every part of their smiling faces. She was holding Emma in her arms, while Ricky draped his arm around both of them, and John extended himself on his tip-toes to look taller, a goofy grin on his face.
She loved that photo.
Seeing it, it was like something had broken inside her, feeling everything like a weight crushing her into the concrete. When he released her other hand, she shattered; withering and sniveling against his chest into the night, "... Daddy, h-help m-m-me!"
Not letting go, George kissed her hair and cried, "I'm here, Ames. I'm here..." The only thing preventing her from hitting the ground was the bear hug he had her wrapped in, each new hiccup from her mouth causing it to get tighter - she couldn't slip away if someone was there to catch her.
"We're going to get you some help, okay?" He broke the silence, brushing the hair away from her swollen and puffy eyes. It was killing him seeing her like this. "I promise... you're going to be okay..." With a slow nod, Amy sniffled and pulled back, running her hands over her face. He looked out towards his car, taking notice of the shattered glass of Vodka scattered around the driver's side of her car. He gave her a stern look, "Go get in my car and lock the door. I'm going to clean this up, and then we're going to leave. I'll come back for yours in the morning." She nodded again, taking the instructions and disappearing into the safety of the silver vehicle, watching as he hunched down and started picking up large shards with his hands and tossing them into the water below.
Tidying up the best he could, he used the tip of his shoe to sweep the tiny remaining fragments into a patch of grass, making sure that all traces of his daughter's illegal escapades were gone. He couldn't protect her from the harsh realities of life, or her own self-destruction, but as her father, he could protect her from this.
He had to.
"... Yeah - yeah she's coming out now - I'll call you when we get there... thanks..." Hanging up he pursed his lips as she climbed into the passenger side with a bag packed. "Are you sure about this?" She nodded slowly, sniffling into her sleeve. Giving her a nod back, he reached behind him and pulled out a white plastic bag containing multiple bottles of water, a pack of crackers, and a brown paper bag. "Drink as much as you can, eat those, and puke in that. Flush out all the Vodka in your system." Obeying, she took one of the bottles and put it to her lips, taking three large gulps to pace herself as he started driving down the road. Staring out the window, and taking in the breeze of the night air whipping against her skin, she sighed heavily.
"Are you sure you want to do this?" George asked gently, taking her hand that was resting on the middle console.
Biting her lip hard, Amy began to cry, "What other choice do I have?" Turning to look at him, "I'm scared, Dad... scared that if I continue like this I'll do something I can't take back... or worse..." Her face contorted as she sobbed harder, and began to stutter through the lump in her throat, "I-I d-d-don't k-now w-whats w-wr-wrong with m-mee!"
Swallowing roughly, he fought back his own tears. She needed someone in her corner. Someone who could hold her up and keep themselves together while she fell apart. "It's going to be okay, Ames... have you talked to him? Told him where you are?"
Shaking her head, she sniffled hard, "Why? All I do is destroy him - why put him through this too?"
Squeezing her hand, he gave her a look that told her the answer, but said it anyway, "You know Ricky will always care about you - worry about you - that's just who he is... at least tell him you're safe..."
Another hard sniffle, before she turned her head and went back to staring out into the night sky.
Pulling up to a building, he looked over at her sleeping figure and crunched into the passenger seat, hating to wake her but knowing it was time to let her venture out and get the help she so desperately needed. He shook her shoulder gently, "Ames... we're here" Blinking a few times, she rose and looked out the windshield at the tall building with a brightly lit awning hanging above them. It looked like a high-end hotel. "You ready?"
"Not really..." She replied, brushing the tears from her cheeks with a sad chuckle, "But that's the scary part, right? The unknown of everything... of myself..."
Nodding, he engulfed her into a hug, "I'm a phone call away, remember that."
Pulling away, Amy sniffled, "I know..." Pulling out a folded-up piece of notebook paper, and giving it to him with a sad sigh, "Give this to him... and tell him I'm sorry... I'm so sorry for everything..."
Lifting her chin with his finger, George met her eyes and spoke softly, "Hey - you just focus on you, okay? I'll take care of Ricky." With a tearful nod, she grabbed her bag and opened the door, stepping onto the lit-up concrete. The passenger side window came down and she heard his voice crack behind her, "I love you, Ames. Remember that. You do have people who love you... so much..."
Wow, was that intense or what? So many emotions to sort through. Thoughts? Do you think you know where this storyline is heading? Do you enjoy where it is? Do you like the flashbacks, or would you rather me cut back on them? Do you have a specific one you'd like me to incorporate?
SOUND OFF! I want to hear your thoughts! I write for you guys, and I'm curious to know how you see these characters, or what you want to see from them coming up. :)