Guess who got Covid? Yeah, it sucks. But the good news for you guys is that I've been forced to isolate and in doing so I slammed out this extremely LONG chapter for you all. Now if only my brain would work more to finish the other 4 drafted chapters I have yet to finish. After all I'll be stuck in quarantine until I test negative.
Happy reading!
"What took you so long?" Her head rose slowly, dragging the luffa down her bent left leg.
"I..." He trailed, mouth going slightly agape from seeing her in the tub, as he shut the door, "wanted to check on John - make sure he was really asleep before... we did anything." The way his eyes roamed, made her giggle as she rose a brow at him standing there, open-mouthed, holding the chocolate shake she'd bought him. "Thought you might like some?"
She giggled again, loving that he knew her so well as she reached out for it, and took a sip, "This is really good," The moan that escaped her mouth upon the sweetness hitting her tongue, making her blush as he wasted no time stripping in front of her. Biting her lip, she took a longer sip, "but I know something better..."
Ricky was smirking, lowering himself slowly into the tub, "Do you now?" His voice getting lower, huskier, moving further into her.
Amy nodded, taking another long sip before putting the shake on the ledge of the tub, grazing her fingertips across the spot where his jaw was most defined, "Mhmmm" Wrapping her arms around his neck as his lips met hers, she pushed her bare chest against his, wasting no time grinding into each other under the mask of bubbles splashing out of the tub.
"These candles smell really nice..." He lamely stated, knowing full well that she knew he was growing harder and more eager with each tantalizing second he wasn't inside her.
She knew it too, and loved having so much control over him, moving her body in a way that brushed his, and made him wither.
The way her hips rolled over him in the warmth of the water made his jaw go slack and his mouth go agape as his hands gripped her waist tighter, and his eyes closed, moaning slightly louder than he normally did, "Amy..."
"Amy!" Someone shouted, adding a loud, annoying bang to the shrill scold, "Amy hurry up or were going to be late!"
Blowing air from her cheeks, Amy sniffled twice, drawing her knees into her chest briefly before taking a deep breath and going under the pool of bubbles starting to disperse; allowing her body to float freely while sinking to the bottom of the tub.
Rushing through the door before it clicked, and catching the furrowed brow of Dr. Fields as they stepped through, Ricky blew out a frustrated breath, "Sorry about this - I thought I heard her sniffle, and given how small she still is... I didn't want to risk her getting something from daycare if she is getting sick -" He rambled, adjusting the baby against his hip as he stood by the end of the faded couch, "George is taking her at 9 so..."
Ken shook his head, waving his hand dismissively, before gesturing to take a seat, "It's fine - take a breath. And take a seat." Once Ricky did, he leaned further away from the chair, clasping his palms under his chin, "Now, let's get to the root of why you're here..."
Ricky's long drawn out exhale and slow shaking of his head, coupled with the whimpers of the infant squirming on his lap, making Ken sigh and start the conversation - "Have you thought about how you're going to respond to her request?"
"Yeah... I'm not." Ricky stated bluntly, eyes fixated on the ceiling tile above them, "I'm ignoring her calls because I can't talk to her - not rationally... anyway." The clicking of the pen across the table, and the small handed slap to the side of his jaw, causing him to pause, bringing his eyes back him. "I dropped John off this morning... another day of pleading as he clung to me..." Drawing in a breath to keep his lip from wobbling, as Emma started to cry against his shirt, "It isn't fair! Why do I have to be the bad guy?"
Taking out his keys, Ken jingled them openly, catching Emma's attention, "Lauren always loved keys," giving them to her outstretched hand, a smile coming to his face as she took and shook them, babbling.
Moving the pad of paper over to the end table, "You're right, it isn't fair. You just need to continue to show John that you are here: that you aren't going anywhere." Lowering the keys away from her mouth, Ricky ran a hand through his hair, cutting his eyes quickly. "You still feel guilty, don't you? About the other night? Thinking that if you would've stayed home that it wouldn't have happened?"
Ricky's left eye was squinted, thinking about how to answer the question, "Yeah. Yeah I do - and it wouldn't have because I never would have let John call her to make him upset!" The rising pitch in his voice making Emma look at him, lip beginning to pucker, making him sigh as he tucked a curl behind her small ear, "I don't blame Kathy, she was just trying to help, but -"
"But John is fine. So stop dwelling on it, and forgive yourself. Have you thought about what the next steps are? What you're going to do if Amy takes this proposal any further?"
"What like court?" His head snapped up, "Amy wouldn't do that... she's not a fan after John's mediation..."
"I've found that people who have other people blowing into their ears, often times flip on rational decision." Dr. Fields leaned back, clasping his hands on his lap, "If Anne is sprinkling this notion to Amy about having it all, while also continuing her life... she might just take it... are you prepared for that?"
Opening his mouth to speak, he was interrupted by a shriek, and a drum beat. Pinching the bridge of his nose between his fingers, Ricky put the device to his ear, "Hello? Seriously?" He exhaled deeply from his mouth, "Yeah, yeah I'll be right there..."
"It's all ridiculous - all of it! What is Anne thinking? She's not, that's what!" He shouted, slamming the refrigerator door a little harder than he meant to.
He nodded in agreement, stepping back a few inches, glancing at his son swaying in the kitchen chair, "I know."
"What are you going to do about it?"
"For now? Nothing." Emma whined, having dropped her toy on the floor. Picking it up, Ricky pursed his lips, "She can't just upend our lives by leaving - ignoring us for weeks - and then demand things. It's not happening!"
"Daddy!" John interjected, tugging on the sleeve of his leather jacket. Emma whimpered in contest, squirming to get out of his grasp.
"What is this?" George asked amused, taking the baby from Ricky, and raising a brow at her attire: the short yellow onesie-dress combo with bumblebees printed on it, missing the matching pants, "Where's the rest of it?"
"I've had a trunk full of laundry for three days - excuse me if I can't find some stupid match for an outfit that's just going to get dirty anyway!" Ricky's tone changed, growing more agitated
John tugged again on his sleeve, harder, "Daddy! I nee-d you!"
The back door of Kathleen's kitchen burst open, the guest stepping slowly into the space.
"Finally! What took you so long?" George's mouth was full, fisting the sandwich with the hand that wasn't grasping his whining grandchild.
"Buses only go so fast, George." Nora stated, a little snappiness laced into her tone. She averted her eyes away from him as she glanced between her two grandchildren, "But I'm here now... unless I need to leave..."
"Can we have a minute?" Ricky's hands were in his pockets, shuffling his feet around the kitchen island
Putting her bag on the table, "This wasn't my idea. I can always back out..."
He shook his head quickly, removing one hand in case he had to reach out and stop her from leaving, "No. Please don't." She nodded silently back, rocking back on her heels. He stepped closer, his lip tipping up ever so delicately, "Picnic in the park, huh?"
"Yeah, I don't know if that's a brave decision, or a crazy one."
"Brave. Definitely brave. Especially with John."
"John? You mean Emma?" They both chuckled at her statement, before she reached out slowly to touch the upper part of his sleeved arm, "How are you? I haven't seen you since..." Nora trailed off, swallowing quickly in fear she'd say something she regretted again.
Ricky lowered his head, "Yeah... I'm - I'm sorry. I shouldn't have stormed out like that. You were just trying to protect me."
"I'm sorry I couldn't -" Her voice became small, closing the space between them as she wrapped her arms around him in an embrace, sniffling a few times in the silence, "how are they?"
Pulling away, the smile she hadn't seen for awhile returned to his face "See for yourself -" Taking his phone out of his pocket, he tapped a few buttons before bringing up the video.
Nora watched in both shock and admiration as her granddaughter rocketed off the blanket "Oh my - did she just - " straight towards Ricky, his face so elated with joy, it made her smile that much bigger
He nodded quickly, his dimples showing as he too admired the sight, "Yep, my daughter is mobile now. Lucky me"
"They're growing up so fast..." She sniffled again, wiping away a stray tear rolling down her cheek, "You're doing such a good job with them -"
"Am I?" He questioned, fighting back the tears gathering in his own eyes, "John is so upset all the time... I can't - I don't know how -" It didn't work, he started to cry, covering his face with his left hand.
It broke Nora's heart to see her son like this, "You're doing the best you can. You didn't fail... She did." The way his head snapped up at that, made her swallow roughly again, "I'm sorry -" running her fingers through the side of his hair by his ears, trying to comfort him, "Maybe this therapist John's going to see will help you both?"
Ricky stopped crying suddenly, his eyes snapping up quickly, "What therapist? What are you talking about?"
Realizing she'd just blurted out the secret, Nora's mouth opened and closed quickly, but seeing the hurt in her son's face, she continued, "He didn't tell you, did he?"
His eyes were slits, his brow knitted together in confusion and anger, "Tell me what? Who are we talking about?"
"You signed John up for therapy!" He boomed, rushing into the adjacent room in a haste
He rose from his place on the floor, "Would you lower your voice, we don't need the neighbors hearing!"
"What the hell, George! I came to you for help -"
"And you're getting it! This is a behavioral specialist - she deals in behavioral issues in children and -" a mumbled whine turned to a loud cry, as John mumbled something under his breath and the infant was now on her back.
Ricky exhaled deeply through his nose, hands on his hips to keep his temper in check, "Kitchen - now."
Following behind, they waited until Nora was far enough away with the children before speaking again. Closing his eyes he calmly started pacing, "He doesn't need a therapist! He's just a child!"
George scoffed at his statement, "A child who is out of control... Look Ricky, I love John more than anyone, but you have to be blind not to see that he's not okay."
Taking a few more deep breaths, Ricky continued pacing, finger to his lips, "If you do this... if you put him in therapy, he'll be in the system. He'll have a behavioral mark on his record before he even starts preschool!" He stilled, fighting against his emotions as he lowered his eyes and tapped his knuckles against the countertop, "I know he's struggling - and I'm trying... I really am... but therapy? Really?" Swallowing roughly, he raised his head, enough for George to see his glassy eyes, "He's three... he's just a little boy..."
Bracing his arms tight against his chest, George sighed, "You said it yourself that he can't keep his temper in check! The accidents, the tantrums, the constant wake ups thinking there's monsters everywhere - He's been kicked out of daycare more times in the past 6 weeks than he ever has! He's constantly being pulled into timeouts. He's not getting along with the other kids -"
"That doesn't mean he needs to go to therapy!"
"He ran away for Pete's sake!" The outburst was below the belt, causing Ricky to slam his palm against the marble in anger.
"Look at him. Look at how much he's hurting..." George continued, trying to break through to him, exiting the kitchen quickly before returning a few seconds later, a sheet of paper in his hands. "He drew this for you - notice the color pattern? It's mostly dark - the brochure says that the use of darker colors signals a change." His finger circled the darker portions of the scribbles; their lines of black and dark blue overtaking the once vibrant yellows and greens.
"John is my grandson - I don't like any of this either - I want Amy to come back. But she isn't. And John is hurting. Your son is suffering, Ricky." He sniffled, "Now are you going to do something about it? Or let it continue?" Ricky sniffled too, bracing the countertop as he rocked on his heels, about to explode.
The patter of little squeaky shoes, and the small arms wrapping themselves against the back of his legs, preventing him from unleashing on the wall behind him.
"Daddy?" The one word was like a dagger; piercing him so deep he lost it, and started to sob openly again, grasping onto the boy's shirt with one hand as he did so.
"Meet me back here at 3, and we'll go together." George was trying to keep his own emotions in check, running his palm over his face. Ricky couldn't speak, but nodded slowly.
"Your dad actually said that? That you were being ridiculous?" Her mouth was agape, hands in the air
"Yeah. Amongst other things." She nodded, walking across the thin strip of carpet, and handing her mother the Styrofoam tray, "I just can't believe he's taking Ricky's side!" Amy tapped her foot, in frustration, fists balling at her sides, "You know I shouldn't have even asked Ricky - I'm their mother, I get more say than he does! He should be thankful I even asked! I could have just boarded a plane and took them with me!"
"Then you would have been arrested for kidnapping, Amy." Anne stabbed at her salad, pouring the tiny cup of dressing over it, "There is no more, or less here. You both created these kids together. Ricky as their father, has just as much of a say as you do." She could tell her daughter wasn't having her rationality given how she was fuming, and pacing the hotel carpet, "Talk to him again - nicely this time - and then go from there."
"He's not going to budge!" Amy shouted, "He's been very clear about that..."
"Talk to him again, try to figure something out: compromise." Amy scoffed, rolling her eyes. Mixing up her lunch, Anne shrugged, "And then, if you can't... I have access to a good family court lawyer... if that's what you want."
Her eyes widened, quickly shaking her head and taking a seat at the small table, "No. No, no lawyers. I'll talk to him."
"I don't get it - he's three! Three! A toddler doesn't need to see a freaking therapist!" He snapped, tossing a cut up box across the room, trying to get some of his pent up rage out.
"Are you really that upset about this? Shouldn't you be thankful there's someone out there who could help him?" Bunny stated, moving on to the next box, "Wait a minute... you don't think -" Adjusting the box cutter, and glancing at him. His eyes lowered at her stare, "Look, nobody is questioning your parenting. George isn't doing this as a jab because you're a bad dad..." Ricky threw another box, harder this time.
She shook her head, "You always do this. You're so hellbent on dealing with everything by yourself, you can't accept other people stepping in to help you. Stop pushing everyone away -"
The sound of drum beats cutting her off. Ignoring it, he threw another box. "Who's that?" Bunny's brow rose in curiosity, "The coffee shop girl? Don't tell me you screwed up things with her too!"
"He did?" Ethan questioned, rushing over to them, apron strings in hand, "Dude seriously, you gotta get over this -"
Ricky didn't respond, just walked away angrily, flexing his fingers to remove some of the tension.
Ethan followed, standing behind him, "I didn't want to show you this but... I found the guy Amy's been seeing..." This got Ricky's attention, spinning on his heels so quick he got dizzy. Wasting no time, Ethan gave him the phone, gauging his reaction.
Ricky took it, lips pursing themselves into a tight thin line as his eyes roamed over the image of a blonde punk sporting a hand tattoo, singing into a microphone.
A grin graced his face seeing how she blushed and put a hand against her's in embarrassment. "You know why?" She shook her head. "Because... " He smirked, taking her hand again before waiting for the melody to change over. "...One, you're like a dream come true. Two, just wanna be with you...Three, girl it's plain to see, that you're the only one for meeee" Ricky sang, belting the lyrics out in time with the song. "And fou-"
Unable to contain the fit of laughter she was desperately trying to hold inside her, Amy smashed her lips against his, shutting him up.
"Hey you interrupted me!" He shouted once they broke away.
"I had to, you're butchering the song!"
"Am not! I'm serenading you like you always dreamed of."
"I said my dream husband would whisper the lyrics, not belt them out! Besides you hate singing, you always say you sound like a dying cat! You'd think that a guy like you would have a smooth silky type of voice..."
"I was cursed in that department. I'm a drummer, not a singer"
She chuckled, "You're a dork"
"I prefer the term ruggedly handsome" He corrected, smirking.
"Fine. You're a ruggedly handsome dork - with the voice of a dying cat!"
"Harsh" He responded, puckering his bottom lip
"Let me finish!" Taking his hand in hers, "You're a ruggedly handsome dork with the voice of a dying cat...but you're our ruggedly handsome dork with the voice of a dying cat. And we love you." She pecked his cheek.
"What about your dream man with the serenading voice like silk?"
"I don't need one. I've already snagged my dream guy. He may not have a great voice, but he's got a great heart..."
The thought of this unknown guy, with Amy, made his blood boil; raging like a bull in a China shop; the pasta stacked neatly on the display taking the hit for the rage pulsing through every fiber of his body.
The single customer standing there, stared with wide eyes, her hand going to her mouth.
Ricky couldn't hear the shouting of his name, or feel the tug of his apron; only the blood pounding in his ears, and the loud cracking of whatever was left of the heart barely beating inside his chest.
"And your mom actually secured this place?" Lauren inquired into the receiver,
sounding as if she was moving around on something given how much background noise she could hear.
Amy nodded, taking a seat on the bench closest to the big oak tree by the playground, "Yeah, all she has to do is have someone consult with her about something and then it's all hers." Leaning forward, "Enough about that though - so how's Berkley?"
"It's great! So great!" Madison shrieked, coming closer to be heard better, "And the best part is that Lauren and I got our dorm together!"
"Wow, how did you swing that?"
"Luck I guess." Even though she couldn't see it, she knew Lauren was doing that weird little side shrug thing she did, because it was followed by Madison's shrill, "Speaking of luck... how's it going with that guy?"
She opened her mouth to speak, but quickly closed it, "Oh that? That's... complicated..." Her tone changed, a small squeak breaking through as she saw a tall lanky man jogging by with a stroller - the sight causing her to bite her lip, "You don't know if... If Ricky is seeing anyone... do you?"
Lauren sighed, "Amy we talked about this - my dad doesn't fill me in on his clients sessions. He's not allowed. Even if it is Ricky..."
"I know I just - Nevermind, It's stupid..." Sniffling quietly, she shook her head, pressing her fingers to her temples,
"He's not speaking to me... so I - I don't know anything that's going on back home..."
"Are you okay?"
"I don't know, Lauren..." Amy sniffled again, staring off into the play yard at two young boys, a little older than John, playing tag, "I want to make this work, but I miss John and Emma so much and -"
"And Ricky?" Lauren interjected, knowing her friend couldn't say what she was really feeling, out loud, "You two have been through so much together... it's going to be impossible not to miss him, Amy..."
"Voicemail full" The annoying robot sang out: the new greeting to replicate her new life.
Sighing, he hung up, unsure of why he even attempted the call in the first place - she was never going to answer anyway. A shriek brought him out of his thoughts, the loud chortle of the boy skipping around the playground, bringing a big smile to his face.
After Ricky's explosion in the butchershop, Bunny had demanded he get some air; get out of the shop, and away from everyone, and everything, to clear his head. Dr. Fields would normally be his go-to for these kinds of outbursts, but this time he found it more comforting to sit inside his car, across the street, peering out the window at his children enjoying time with their grandparents; people who they loved, and trusted because they stayed persistent in their ever changing lives.
Taking one last glance, he grabbed the door handle and pulled, closing the door roughly behind him, and ducking into the building 20 feet from the parking lot.
"This place looks like a preschool version of juvie..." He grimaced at the dull gray walls, with bright florescent lighting and childrens artwork strewn throughout: being waved inside by a burly man and a loud buzzing door.
Not paying him much attention, he pushed the stroller through the white panel, "Yeah well, John needs this - so play nice."
"Why does everyone keep saying that - I am nice!" George cocked a brow, pursing his lips. Ricky matched his expression, squinting his eyes ever so slightly, "What, I am!"
George shook his head silently, flipping his hand in the air with the flick of his wrist, dismissing his comment as a tall, blonde with dark brown highlights in her hair, and blue glasses on the top of her head, walked up to them.
"Hi! I'm Sarah! You must be... Ricky? My receptionist said you are here about your son?" Her voice was perky, bouncing on her silver stilettos as the bracelets dangled from her right wrist.
George shook his head, pointing to his left with his thumb at the hard-jawed teen, glaring under the shield of his furrowed brow, "Grandson - he's his dad"
Sticking out his hand, Ricky tilted his head, "I'm Ricky - this is John, and that's Emma."
Sarah smiled sweetly, excepting the sloppy handshake, "Well nice to meet you! Have a seat and I'll be with you in a few minutes."
Ricky stuffed a hand into his pocket, letting go of the hold he had on Johns shirt, "She's unusually perky for this time of day..."
"Be nice..." George huffed back, unamused, and slightly annoyed by his ex-son-in-law/father of his grandchildren's sucky attitude
John's head snapped up, twirling one of Emma's toys around her face, "Daddy... I wanna go h-wome!"
Taking a seat begrudgingly, Ricky blew out a breath, "Me too, buddy. Me too."
Not waiting to hear the whining his grandson would no doubt start in on, George pulled out a foil package, dangling it back and forth like he did when he was about to give Moose a treat. John's eyes widened, immediately reaching for the snack and clutching it tightly.
Ricky chuckled, a bit amused, "You think you can bribe him to be quiet with fruit snacks?" Not answering, George pulled out another package, doing the same deal he'd done with John, to him. Ricky rolled his eyes, and scoffed, "Really?" before snagging the snack anyway, "You're not bribing me - I just didn't eat lunch."
"Your... father-in-law? He filled my receptionist in a little bit. Your son - John is it? He's having some issues regarding his mother?" Sarah's hands were crossed over her lap, standing against the reception desk
"Yeah... you could say that - and he's my ex father-in-law... who made this appointment without my knowledge, so..." He shrugged off the comment, trying to manage his snarky attitude
"Well, do you mind if we come in here and talk?" She moved away from the desk to a door 10 feet away, pausing to prop it open with a wedge.
John glanced up at him, pushing the button attached to the door. Stepping inside, Ricky guided him by the hand to the two padded chairs across from a massive black desk shaped like an L.
Taking her own seat, Sarah tapped her nails against the side, "So tell me a little about John... what exactly is he experiencing in regards to his mother? Is he experiencing rage? Isolation? Hyperactivity? Increased anxiety? Clinginess?"
Pursing his lips, "All of the above..." He ran his palm over the right knee of his jeans, John balancing on his left knee, clutching onto his shirt. "I don't think he needs to be here - no offense -"
"None taken, that's generally the consensus of all parents - their child doesn't need help, they're just being children... and while that may be true, it's also wrong and harmful." Her brow furrowed, and her voice changed from the perky lilt, to a stern principal, "Children need to be able to accurately express and control their emotional impulses." Leaning forward, she reached across the desk and gently poked John's sleeved arm, "Hi, John... I'm Sarah... do you think I can talk to you for a few minutes?"
Recoiling from her touch, John's left arm went to his chest, while the right grasped harder onto Ricky's shirt, shaking his head, "I want daddy!"
"I promise your daddy will be right outside the door - right there." Pointing at the solid piece of painted red wood, glancing over at him, "Right, daddy?"
John's grip only tightened as Ricky started to shift his weight to remove himself from the chair, "nooo, I want youuuu, daddyyy!"
Sighing, Ricky loosened his grip, and put him on his feet, making sure he was level with him to speak clearly, "I'll be right outside that door, okay? Just cry for me and I'll be back in here in a second, alright?"
John's breathing increased, the separation anxiety Ricky had come so accustomed to comforting, starting to creep up before he rubbed his eye with a fist and mumbled, "O.K..."
Giving John a peck on the head, he squeezed his shoulder and stepped out the door, closing it softly behind him, but offered a small wave through the slotted slender window. John mimicked the wave shyly, grasping onto his own shirt.
Sarah's heels clicked against the flooring as she took slow strides and bent down beside him, "See, your daddy is right there. He's not going anywhere... can we talk? Can you tell me about yourself?" He stayed silent, pulling on the zipper of his puffer vest. "Okay... how about I ask you questions and then you tell me the answers? Can we do that?" He shrugged, cutting his eyes away from the door briefly to look at her. "Alright! How old are you?"
John's non-verbal response of his raised left hand with three fingers bent, giving Sarah her answer as she continued to press, "Wow! Do you have any brothers or sisters? Or a pet? Do you have a favorite color, or a favorite food?" Another nod. "What are they?"
"B-wue! An-a hot-dogs!"
"Hotdogs are yummy! Do you like ketchup on your hotdogs? You look like you like ketchup." Another nod. "Do you have a best friend? A smart little guy like you must be very popular." The way his lips pursed and he fiddled with his fingers, making her smile, "Does your best friend have a name?"
This nod was faster, a little smirk crossing John's face, "Lil-ly!"
"Wow, Lilly must be really special, huh? Do you love Lilly?" His silence perked her curiosity, "Do you know what love is, John?" He nodded robotically, going back to his zippers.
Sarah paused a second before shifting to take a seat on the floor, "You know how you tell your daddy, and your mommy, and your sister, that you love them?"
Nodding, John also took a seat on the floor, closer to the door and near a mountain of assorted brightly colored blocks.
"Well love is a chemical in our brains that releases a shot of happy feelings... Do you understand what feelings are? Feelings are emotions that our bodies respond to whenever we're feeling happy, or sad, or mad, or scared -" His response was a half hearted glance up before pressing a slender yellow block down on a bulkier blue one.
"When you eat ice cream, you feel happy, right?" He nodded. "And when you hear thunder outside at night, you feel scared?" Nodding again. Tapping her nail against the knee of his pant leg, Sarah's voice pitched, "Those are called emotions. And when we're little our bodies don't know how to regulate these unknown feelings; we're happy, and sad, and mad, and scared, and confused, all the time, and we don't know how to control it."
Shrugging, she scooted closer, helping him with a red block, "When we're adults - like your daddy - we can process our feelings and control them," stacking a green one, she paused to look at him directly, "Are you having big feelings? Is that why you've been hitting other kids at your daycare?" His eyes cut down, going back to stacking blocks; his movements increasing very subtlety. She noticed, "You can talk to me... I'm here to help you... Are you sad about your mommy?"
He was silent for a few seconds, gauging how to respond, "Uh huh..." before abandoning the thought and slamming an orange block so hard, it made the others in the tower fall over and scatter. John's breathing increased, balling his small fists, "mommy jus ma-ken me s-ad! And my - my tummy jus hurts!"
His confession struck Sarah, eyes softening as she attempted to touch his arm again, this time being successful, "Does your tummy hurt whenever you get sad about your mommy, or does it hurt when you get mad about your mommy? Does that little pain monster in your tummy come out whenever you're about to have a tantrum? Do you yell, or hit things when it happens?"
John's lip puckered, nodding slowly, eyes glued to his shoes - a tactic he picked up from watching his dad.
She sighed, picking some of the plastic bricks up, and starting to rebuild, "Where exactly is your mommy right now?"
"She - she jus in a b-ig sk-ool..." He also took hold of the pieces again, shuffling them into a pile by his shoes, but the question made him become agitated, slamming the bright blocks again.
She pursed her lips, handing over a blue square piece, and tapping a nail against it, "Do you see how you slammed that block down whenever I asked about your mommy? Did your tummy start to hurt too?" His tiny brow furrowed, biting his lip.
"That's called anger, John. You're small little brain is releasing the angry feelings into your body." Ignoring her explanation, he stacked another block.
Adjusting the bracelet on her wrist, she swiped some blonde hair behind her ear, "We're going to try something... I want you to tell me how you're feeling right now - and then we're going to scream it at each other, okay?"
He stacked another block, moving his foot back and forth slowly.
Un-balling her left fist, Sarah ran it over to flick some lint off her pant leg, "I'll go first -" starting the exercise with a big exhale, "This morning I made coffee, and the cup was hot, and it burned my tongue. It made me mad that it did that! But it made me sad because my tongue hurt. I was experiencing my big feelings of being mad and sad, together, because my coffee hurt me..." another exhale, as her voice rose, "So to combat that, I'm going to yell about my feelings! I'm mad my coffee was too hot! I'm sad because my tongue got burned! I'm having big feelings and it's making me upset!" The slow rise in her voice made John look up, watching as her hands slammed themselves against her legs as she yelled out her frustrations - not quite understanding what coffee was, and why she was mad about it. "Your turn... can you tell me what you're mad or sad about? You can take a minute to think about it, that's okay."
Glancing between the block tower now almost completely rebuilt, and the still closed door his dad was behind, John's shoulders slumped, his voice coming out small and muffled, "I m-ad at mommy!"
She nodded along, moving her hands in a spinning motion for him to continue, "Good again! Louder this time!"
He took a big breath, balling his fists against the air, "I M-ad at mommy!"
They were getting someone with this, and she could tell that by the way his demeanor was shifting: "One more time, really scream it at me!"
Closing his eyes, his lip began to wobble, thick, angry tears making their way down his red cheeks before he clobbered the tower again and threw it against the chair, screaming into her face like she wanted, "I M-MAD AT MY MOMMY!"
"I want to go home!" He scowled, trying to break the grip he had on his shoulder, "I hate it here! I hate this place!"
Shakur sighed, "You haven't even given it a try yet, son..."
Ricky's scowl intensified, pushing his hand off with force, "I'm not your son! And I don't care! I want to go home!"
"Ricky... he's here to help you..." Margaret spoke gently, putting her left hand on the side of his face. He secretly liked that subtle gesture, because it was comforting, but he'd never admit that to these people. They were... different. Too good to be dealing with the likes of him - and soon they'd realize it too and toss him away like the rest of them did... nobody wanted him, or his baggage, and they always made that known. What made these people any different?
She spoke again, drawing him back, "I promise, he's a good man. He won't hurt you..."
The way she smiled wide at his defiant ways, only made him recoil, foreign to the concept that someone like her could actually care about his wellbeing. He shoved her hand away too, glaring with so much hatred as he spewed, "Yea he will! They all do!"
The man holding a binder stepped slowly, careful in his footing to not be provoking, "Ricky... my name is Dr. Ken Fields... can we talk?"
He was tall, with a low voice that sounded both stern, and soft, but his eyes were piercing; like if he stared at you long enough, he'd be able to see into your inner most thoughts and deepest secrets of your soul. When he got close enough, he didn't yell, or raise a hand, he instead simply bent down to Ricky's level, and touched the sleeve of his shirt, a smile breaking onto his face, "I understand your hesitation... is that a California Golden Bears jersey? You like baseball, do you?"
A 12-year-old Ricky shrugged nonchalantly, not wanting to answer and reveal that while he did love baseball, he also stole the jersey from the guy who collected them at his last foster placement. But, he had a feeling this Ken guy knew that, and yet he still wanted to be kind to him? Why? What made him so special to this guy? After another few minutes of glaring and digging the tip of his worn out sneakers into the pristine white carpet, he shrugged and walked towards the door, "whatever."
"Take your hand off the door. He's fine." George's sharp warning breaking him of his thoughts.
Ricky shook his head quickly, not even realizing that his hand was on the verge of busting the door open. Removing it he ran it through his hair, closing his eyes and drawing his lip between his teeth, "I hate this..."
Emma whined for him, outstretching her small arms up as the drool dribbled from her chin. Bringing her into his grasp, he swayed slowly, running his fingers over the curls on the back of her head, "I mean how did it come to this? Taking my three-year-old to a behavioral specialist to combat Amy leaving?" Emma whimpered softly at the change in his voice, the break becoming more evident as he tried to swallow it back, "Where did I go wrong, George? I loved her... did she ever love me?"
"She did... She does." George sighed back, fiddling with a blue teething ring before handing it to his granddaughter. She whimpered again, but accepted it, thrusting it into her small mouth with a grunt. "This is just a bump in the road. Sooner or later Amy'll come to her senses and realize that she can't have her cake and eat it too - and then she'll come home."
"I appreciate your optimism... but she's planning something. I just need to be ready for whatever it is..." Ricky was deflated, having no more fight in him to combat George's annoying hopefulness of something he knew probably would never happen - but somehow still managed to keep the faith that maybe it would.
Optimism was easier when it had only been a week, and the phone calls were steady... but after week 3, when they barely got two words to each other out in a three-day timespan... he became less optimistic. Instead replacing it with familiarity - anger.
The door opened slowly, the puffer sleeved arm of the boy immediately grabbing onto his pant leg, causing a small bit of relief to wash over him, "Hey, buddy!"
Sarah stepped out too, clasping her hands together, and glancing around the room before she asked softly, "Can we all have a talk?"
They gave each other a worried look, George rising off the chair to join them.
"I know he's a little much but -" Ricky was quick to state, defensive of his son, adjusting the baby more comfortably against his hip, as he gently played with John's left ear - the way Amy often did whenever he used to cling onto her.
"Calm down, I'm not here to judge him - or you." Waving a hand at him, she shook her head, and smiled, "John seems like a very kind and loving little boy... he's just having a rough time. He mentioned his mother is away at school?"
"Yeah, uh - she's in New York. Hudson University first year..." Ricky was caught off guard clearly, given the way his mouth opened when she mentioned John's knowledge of his mother's whereabouts.
Sarah's bracelets dangled again, brow furrowed as she continued, "First year? You two must have been young, huh?" His silent nod coupled with his averting eyes giving her her answer, "Do you know why she left? What factors played a role in her wanting to pursue a school away from here? Were you together, or having problems -"
"How is that any of your business? My problems with Amy are just that - mine. Not yours -" He snapped angrily, over everything being thrown at him: including this too-perky stranger who knew nothing about him, or their situation, but proceeded to poke and prod to the point where he was on the verge of snapping again, and leaving.
George turned in his chair, bringing the whimpering baby back into his arms, "Ricky, she's trying to help -" Ricky glared at him, so he shrugged and blew out a breath, "He met my daughter Amy at a summer band camp, and she got pregnant from her first time having sex at 15..." Blowing out another breath, George continued, "Amy decided to keep the baby and she and Ricky built up to a relationship: they moved in together, got engaged, got pregnant again with this little one here, and then got married - neither one of them really had much time to be teenagers so when Amy got the opportunity to go to school in New York... she took it." Ricky continued to glare, his jaw starting to twitch in anger. George shot it right back, his brow creasing - "You want John to get help, here is it! Now she knows the whole story."
"Thank you. It helps to know where the root of the problem for John stems from."
It was awkward for the next few minutes, as Sarah typed obnoxiously on a bright blue keyboard, while George and Ricky sat next to each other, keeping their eyes on the child in each of their laps.
Ricky broke the silence, putting a flattened palm on the desk, "Is it -" pausing to gather his thoughts, "I mean is it possible that he-" Swallowing the lump in his throat, he met her stare, "Could John have... potentially... inherited violent genetics?" George's eyes widened, leaning up into the chair in disbelief that he'd asked such a question.
"I did some research earlier and some studies can link the behavioral patterns of abused kids to their genetic makeup..." He trailed off, "My fath - My biological dad - he uh - he abused me, and is in prison... could those violent tendencies... do you think they could have been passed to John given that he's genetically linked?" Ricky's voice was full of concern, eyes glassy as he felt the boy's hand on his own.
She could tell that asking pained him, as she set the glasses on the edge of the desk, and sighed, "... I understand your concern... but no, generally emotional impulses, and emotion regulation doesn't come from our genetic makeup." She watched the terror disappear, as he blew out a small breath, "John is very unlikely to inherit violent outbursts because his biological grandfather was violent." Tapping her nails against her arm, "Are you asking this as a general question of concern, or because you think he's been abused?"
Without thinking he shot up off the chair, grasping John's waist as his legs dangled, and he shouted, "I've NEVER laid a hand on my son!"
"Okay, I see I touched a nerve there. I apologize..." Sarah seemed unfazed by his outburst, simply shrugging before going back to the file opened on her desk, "Ricky, you really don't have much to worry about. John isn't a violent child. I don't even think he could do bad bodily harm to anyone, actually - John is having problems regarding his emotions." Ricky's brow creased, looking at his son swinging his legs against the air. "John and I were talking about his emotions, or 'big feelings' as we like to say, and how to cope with them. He has some strong ones regarding his mother and her leaving, and he's having difficulty processing them properly."
Ricky sat back down. "John needs to learn how to cope and combat them surrounded by people who love and encourage him. He's at the age where his little brain is absorbing everything around him like a big sponge: words, tasks, feelings, all of those he's trying to navigate through and explore. He's going to have outbursts, and get upset. Just like he's going to be happy and laugh until he can't breathe - it's perfectly normal. It's healthy even."
Ricky was bouncing his knee nervously as she continued, "John's aggressive behavior towards others isn't a cause for immediate alarm, but does need to be dealt with in a gentle-but-stern manner. John is what we like to call a 'threenager': A toddler who believes they are now in charge and want to act older than they are. At the age of three is generally when kids start to understand their emotions a little bit. They can be very overwhelming for some kids, and their impulse control is essentially non existent - they act on things without thought." Sarah glanced at the boy smiling mischievously at his baby sister, "An example would be John's recent scuffles at daycare - three year old's bite, kick, and hit as a way to solve conflict; it's that lack of impulse control that gives them such a reaction because they're too young to distinguish between appropriate and inappropriate conflict resolution."
Sarah leaned further across her desk, eyeing Ricky again, pursing her lips at his closed off stature, "Take you as another example: when you get upset, what do you do? Do you respond appropriately with words, or do you lash out and lose control of your own emotional impulses?"
"I can handle myself, thanks." He growled, rolling his eyes at her baseless comment
"See that's where you're mislead - John can sense your feelings: he knows that even if you're not acting on it, that you're still having big feelings too. Children pick up things we as adults never would think they even listen to - but they do..."
"Try sitting down with John and using phrases like 'It's okay to feel angry, but it's not okay to hit people' the next time he has a violent outburst at the daycare; show him that these big feelings he's experiencing are normal and part of life, but that it's not okay to use violence as a way to solve a problem: train him to be aware of how his big feelings affect others." John looked down, guilt laying over his thin face, toying with the golden band on his dad's hand.
"It is perfectly normal for John to be angry, mad, sad, happy, annoyed, frustrated, or disappointed - they are normal responses to toddlers gaining independence. He'll learn the balance when he's a little older on his own, but for now he's going to be clingy, and he's going to have tantrums - just be there and be present with him: show him that you also have big feelings, and how to deal with them; taking deep breaths and counting to 5 helps. Just try not to yell or get upset with him, he's in uncharted territory and punishing him for expressing his feelings could create a bigger problem."
Ricky scoffed, getting up off the chair again, slower and more controlled this time, his eye right squinting slightly, "You got all of that by spending 30 minutes with the kid?"
"Told you she was good!" George chuckled, slapping his palms and rubbing them together, shooting her a smile.
Sarah smiled too, closing the file on her desk, "John's a special little boy, he just needs a little help to reach his full potential"
That he couldn't argue with, a small smirk coming to his face, "Thanks..."
"My pleasure..." Her smile widened, tucking another strand of hair behind her ear. The act made him blush slightly, knowing she was flirting with him but didn't want it to be obvious. She didn't return the blush, instead stood up again, "Oh and Ricky?"
He paused in the doorway, "Hmm?"
"The nature of life is change, and the nature of people is to resist change. Feelings are like weather systems: when we're in that intense pain of heartbreak, or sadness, we feel like we're going to feel this way forever. We can't imagine feeling any different. It's like when people are depressed - I often tell them you are not the best person to talk to you about you right now, because your thoughts are so distorted, and jumbled into this giant pot of feelings and emotional impulses, and so we have to remember that feelings blow in and they blow out. Whatever you're feeling in the moment will not last forever. Breathe them in, feel them in the moment, and then blow them out and move forward. There will always be another day to revisit them, and a time when they will come sneaking up, but for now, in this moment, let them go and be present. Allow yourself to shed the weight for a moment of peace." She paused, batting her lashes softly, "Remember that, it'll help make the heartbreak a little less painful..."
George was beaming, "You know you should really write a book - you're amazing!"
Ricky rolled his eyes, "Yeah, and you're about to get married - let's go" grabbing the sleeve of his shirt, dragging him along, as he giggled like a love struck school girl. "Bye, thank you for the uh - the advice about John... I'm sure some of what you said got through... we'll see I guess."
"And then he just hung up on me, can you believe that? Like I didn't birth his children and put up with him for the past 3 1/2 years." She sneered, pacing the small patch of rug in the middle of the room, "Are you seriously going out with this guy again?"
"You do realize what you sound like right?" Emery shot back, folding the compact mirror and putting it in her bag, "You left the guy, and your kids, to be here. You chose this life. You can't be mad at him for not wanting the same." Taking out the lipstick, she pursed her lips, "You're here, doing your thing, and your ex is back at home taking care of two small kids," applying another layer to her top lip, "So while you're out with Adam tonight, remember that Ricky is sitting on a couch with a toddler and a baby." She looked over at Amy, her arms crossed across her chest in frustration
Folding the flap back onto her purse, she stepped away and towards the door, "You seriously need to think about what your mother is proposing because these aren't animals you can just put inside a cage and check on periodically - they are children." Her voice changed: the normal bubbly lilt being replaced with a charged, hardness, "Talk to Ricky again, talk to your mom and then talk to Adam."
Amy was still pacing, only pausing to give her roommate a baffled look, and squint her eyes in confusion, "Why? What does he have to do with this?"
"Uh, a lot." Em clicked her tongue at her roommates silence, "Wait... oh my - you haven't told him yet, have you?"
"He knows about John and Emma...and that they live in California..." She trailed off
"Just not about potentially bringing them here to live with you and your mom?" Amy's nonchalant shrug was starting to throw Emery into a fit of annoyance, "I just - I can't with you right now!" Throwing her hands up in defeat as she stalked over to the door and threw it open, "Figure it out, Chica. I'm out of here!"
Scooping up another spoonful of mashed up noodles, he swallowed quickly, using his free hand to gather another bite onto his fork, "I'm proud of you for being such a good boy at that place today, buddy..." he started, watching his son play with his food, "Do you want to talk about it?"
John shook his head, rolling the chopped up hotdogs lathered in artificial cheese sauce, around on his plate. "Okay, that's fine - but you know you can always talk to me. About anything. If you're upset, or sad about mommy... I'm here, okay?" Emma shrieked, squirming to grab the spoon from him. Ricky chuckled at her antics, but was unable to stop staring at John and the defiant low eyed stare he had on his face - that reminded him of Amy.
"You don't have to be strong all the time... that's my job. Your job -" Ricky paused, moving his own chair closer to John, "your job is to be a happy and carefree little boy who gets into things and plays in the dirt." That made John giggle, scrunching his face. Ricky mimicked, offering him a bite off his own fork, "Daddy, and Emma, Ethan, Kathy, Grandpa, Grandma Nora, and Grandma Margy, and Grandpa Shakur, and Bunny all love you - so much. We're all still here. And we're not going anywhere."
John nodded again, silently, continuing to take the bites of dinner that his dad was offering to him. Emma squealed again, throwing displaced noddle's across her highchair tray.
"P-wom-ise?" He squeaked a few seconds later, his big brown eyes staring directly at his father, drawing comfort.
Ricky smiled softly, scratching the back of John's newly buzzed scalp with his fingernails, and pulling him forward gently, "Pinky promise," planting a kiss on his forehead, "You're stuck with all of us, kid!"
Leaning into him, John wrapped his small arms around his neck tightly, not wanting to let go. Breathing slowly from his nostrils, Ricky soaked it in, "you know sometimes I forget you're only 3... I'm sorry if I ever put pressure on you to be anything other than yourself..." Seeing her brother getting their daddy's attention, Emma whined loudly in protest, throwing another mushy noodle.
Breaking the embrace, Ricky sighed, but kept his gaze, and his hand on John, "But having said that, these... big feelings you're having... they need to be talked about with your words - not your hands... Kids who use their hands to solve problems are bullies... and I don't want you to be a bully. You're too good for that. Alright? Can we start using our words to talk about our feelings?"
John was cocking his head the way he did when he was about to do something he deemed funny, and before Ricky could ask what it was, he snaked his arm over: grabbing one of the large pieces of hotdog from his plate and shoving it into his mouth with a mischievous grin.
Ricky rose a brow but chuckled under his breath, "Yep - you are definitely my son"
The apartment was filled with shrill shrieking: the infant loudly declaring her joy and excitement from inside the playpen at her brother popping up, making a face, before popping back down again.
"Daddy, wh-en Em-ma jus go-in g-et big so she c-an pway?" John asked, grabbing onto Emma's arms to help her in attempting to pull herself up - each time more unsuccessful than the last.
Not bothering to look over, Ricky flipped the page in the textbook, and started folding another shirt, "Not for awhile bud, why are you bored?"
"Uh huh..." It was mumbled under his breath, casually making his way over to the side of the sofa; crossing his legs over themselves while playing with his bottom lip.
Noticing him inching closer, he stopped folding, "What's up?"
John's eyes lowered, "I m-iss mommy..."
Sighing, Ricky scooped him onto his lap, "Wanna know a secret?" The boy nodded, taking hold of one of his sisters onesies. "I do too..."
He sighed again, helping him fold the piece of clothing properly, "It's okay to have those feelings though - if you ever have those feelings about mommy, I'm here. I'm always going to be here. Okay? That's what daddy's are for - to be there for you and your sister, always." Emma shrieked again, rising almost to the top before falling down, and grunting in that adorable non-understandable way.
Ricky smiled at her before adjusting John's weight on his lap, wrapping both arms around him, "John, have I ever told you about the day I started to get feelings for mommy?"
John glanced up but shook his head silently, burying his face against his dad's shirt.
Ricky smiled again, "It was your first birthday..."
"I can't get this stupid lighter to light!" She huffed, slamming the slender object against her palm in frustration
Taking a step forward, away from the array of balloons he'd successfully blown up, he put his hand out, "Here, let me try -" Shaking it a few times before it caught and the flame appeared, "It just takes a little elbow grease"
She scoffed, "Elbow grease, huh? Could have used some of that when I pushed this little one out a year ago..." His brow rose awkwardly, causing her to blush, "Kidding -"
He chuckled under his breath, "How was that anyway? You never told me."
Gathering John up from the floor, red balloon in his grasp, Amy scoffed playfully, "Painful. Very painful. Thank God for drugs!" She put him in the highchair, stroking his small fist with her fingers, as they beat the balloon violently, "But... I forgot about the pain after I saw his face..."
"Dada!" John squealed, pumping his legs with excitement before shoving the remainder of the cracker in his other hand, into his mouth.
"Should we get started?"
Ricky nodded, snapping the highchair tray onto the base, "There you go, buddy"
Her eyes widened, playfully, voice pitching higher in mock excitement at the food on the tray, "Look John, daddy got you Dino nuggets!"
John squealed again, slamming his palms down, "Dada!"
Amy giggled, breaking the nuggets into smaller pieces before gesturing with her finger to the desolate chair, "He wants you to sit by him"
"You sure?" Ricky questioned, hesitant to invade on her task. She nodded, swiping some hair away from John's forehead as she fed him with her fingers. He took a seat, grabbing one of the nuggets, making it walk across the tray as he growled, "Rawrr!" John snorted in amusement, bringing another bite into his saliva laced fingers.
"I'm going to call my mom, check on Mimzy. Can you watch him for a minute?"
Ricky chuckled, playing with John's hand, "Mommy was gone for awhile, so I kept you company - and ate most of your nuggets until she got back..."
Rushing back, she pushed her bangs away from her eyes, "Sorry - that took longer than I thought it would."
John took another small bite from Ricky's hand, "Everything okay?" Looking up at her, her small shrug as she cut her eyes away, giving him his answer. He opened his mouth to speak but closed it before just stating the obvious, "John's done with his dinner... and he's been pointing at that cake for like the last 5 minutes."
Amy giggled at their son, "Do you want some cake, buddy?"
John slammed his hands down again, out stretching a fist, "Mama!"
Glancing over to the counter top, she groaned at the sight of the dessert getting ready to slide off, "Shoot! I forgot we lit the candle... is it still burning?"
Rushing over to it, he took a step back cautiously, and grimaced, "Not really - I'd also not eat the middle unless you like the taste of wax"
"Do you have another candle?" He shook his head, grabbing the sides of the pan. "Ugh, I'm so stupid! I ruin everything!"
"It's okay it's just a cak -"
"No! No it's not!" She cried, burying her head in her hands
He could tell by the way her shoulders started to shake that she was crying, and it wasn't because of some flimsy dollar store candle. Stepping closer, Ricky tilted his head at her, "Is this about... Ben?"
Amy sniffled, nodding slowly, "He left me a voicemail. I haven't listened to it yet. I don't know if I want to."
"Then don't. Forget about it. Forget about him, and just... be here. Be here and celebrate our son's first birthday. Be happy this smiling little goofball made it a whole year with us." The way her arms crossed over her chest telling him she'd been offended by his blunt statement. Cutting a corner slice off with a butter knife, he handed it to her, "Tell her John."
John watched with wide eyes, rocking back and forth inside the chair, "Mama! Uh oh!"
Ricky chuckled at the boy, and cut another piece, "Close enough."
"You're right... I'm sorry." Amy sighed, standing with her hands on her hips, "This day is all about John, and it shouldn't be ruined by my issues." A big smile broke onto her face when he handed her the plate, "Hey, John - John look, cake!"
The small child's legs pumped again, faster, his little grabby hands like lightning, "Mine!"
John giggled, his chin pressed into Ricky's chest, "I wike ca-ake a-wot daddy!"
Ricky's lip tipped up, "So does mommy..."
"Happy Birthday John!" She squealed, clapping excitedly, "Blow it out buddy!" John watched the flame with curious eyes, drawing back and whining when it moved.
"Let's do it together..." She suggested, squeezing Ricky's forearm gently. He swallowed at the action, nodding robotically, which made her smile, "Okay," starting the countdown, as they leaned closer next to each other - as close as they'd been since their 'practice kiss' a few weeks prior. "One...Two...Three..."
The room got dark, the only light now being extinguished by their shared blowing of the candle. John whimpered at the change in the room, but quickly started clapping his small hands together. They smiled at each other, both happy they'd decided to do this, and clapped along, "Yaay!"
Wasting no time, he dug in, plowing his fingers into the thick icing before bringing it to his lips, and shoving it in his mouth; the sugar high throwing his small body for a loop as his eyes widened again and he squealed with joy.
"Op, Ricky - look he's shoving it in his face!" Amy laughed, her eyes glued to him in admiration of both him, and the mess he was making.
Taking his phone out quickly, Ricky stepped closer, fixing the birthday hat that was sliding down John's head onto his face, and chuckled at the way he was attacking the dessert, now using his face instead of his hands, "You gotta at least let us get a picture first buddy!" He smiled as John squealed and stuck his chocolate covered hands into his mouth, "He eats his cake like you."
She gave him a wide eyed look, playfully slapping his arm, "I do not eat cake like that!"
He raised an eyebrow in her direction amusement on his face, "Really? Where'd your piece go then?
Glancing down at her empty plate, Amy shrugged, pursing her lips in mock thought, "Hmm not sure…but since I can't find it you should give me another piece."
His lip tipped up, shaking his head as he looked at John and leaned closer speaking to him quietly, "What do you think John…should we give Mommy more cake?"
"Mama, no!"
Fixing the hat on his own head, Ricky caved and grabbed another piece from the counter for her - pleasantly surprised, and extremely happy that their evening was going really well.
Her smile matched his as he put the piece in front of her, twirling the small camera in her hands, "Can we take a few pictures?"
He nodded, swallowing the sticky dessert quickly, "Yeah definitely. We should probably take a whole bunch. Did you get him eating the cake?"
She nodded, nudging him lightly, "I haven't gotten any with you two yet though."
Their eyes met, Ricky swallowing hard and hesitant to speak, "...I wasn't sure if you'd want any of me…"
Her face softened at his admission, placing a hand on his arm. He glanced at it before looking back at her curiously. "Of course I want you in them Ricky... you're his dad. I know I haven't always been good with all this stuff and I haven't been the easiest person to get along with this past year, but know that even if I have my moments and I'm cranky…you're a good father. You've been there for John every day since he was born and I don't say it much, but I wouldn't have been able to get through the past year without you."
He could feel his eyes start to get misty, like they always seemed to when things with Amy got emotionally charged. He shifted slightly and pulled her into a surprise hug. She tensed for about a second before her body melted into it and her arms went around his neck. "You don't realize how much that means to me."
Amy closed her eyes, her head buried in his shoulder as she breathed him in, voice muffled as she spoke. "I think I do…and I'm sorry it took me so long to say it."
His hands rubbed her back lightly as they stood there wrapped in each other's arms. He could smell her strawberry shampoo - the same one she used that night at bandcamp; the night their son was conceived.
The thoughts of that night crept into his thoughts: her hand on his knee, his mouth on hers; the taste of cherries on her lips as she pushed further against him.
Ricky must have let his mind wander too much because before he could realize that his hands were starting to move lower, Amy's breath hitched, and he was hit by something wet and sticky.
Pulling away slowly, their eyes still fixated on each other; his filled with confusion and hers filled with something completely different that he couldn't place, he cleared his throat and touched the back of his neck as she moved away from him.
Fingers coming back full of saliva laced chocolate, Ricky groaned and turned toward a grinning and giggling John, "did you throw cake at Daddy?"
When she saw what their child had done she had to bite her lip to keep from chuckling, but it failed and the laughter bubbled over anyway.
He glanced over his shoulder and frowned at her, "What are you laughing at?"
"You have chocolate all over your neck and shirt!" Bursting into another round of laughter Amy caught the way he raised an eyebrow at their son before lifting him from his high chair, grabbing some of the mess from John's tray, and her eyes widened, shaking her head vigorously at his mischievous grin.
"I think it's time to get Mommy, John…"
"Ricky no! No! No -" She shrieked, leaping off the chair and starting to sprint around the small kitchen, as he was copying her movements, weaving in and out between each other; the cackling one-year-old covered in chocolate, hands' outstretched in her direction as he yelled "Ma ma ma ma!" over and over again.
It took a couple of minutes of bobbing and waving through the apartment, before they managed to catch her in the kitchen next to the sink. John gripped onto her shirt smearing chocolate all over it as Ricky smeared some on her face. She gasped, and grabbed some off her face, throwing it at him, appalled he actually did what he did.
"You an mommy jus thr-owed the ca-ake?" John questioned in disbelief, his eyes wide in surprise at the confession
Ricky laughed enough to show his dimples, nodding, "We did. And you just sat there, giggling like crazy, licking your fingers" John grinned, squinting his eyes. "Eventually our little cake fight ended when the kitchen was covered in cake and frosting, and so were we..."
"D-d-id you jus ha-av a f-wun t-ime?"
"It was one of the best nights of my life - because I had you both with me..."
"John... you need to go to sleep baby - you're tired," She tried to coax, running her nails lightly over his freshly bathed back. He whined and fussed against her, fighting his overtiredness with swift tugs to her shirt as she tried to lay him on the pillow.
Ricky popped in, the fresh scent of mint Head and Shoulders trailing after him as he grasped the towel draped around his neck, "He okay?"
Amy shrugged, frowning, as she struggled to keep her grip on Johns squirming body, "Yea, I think he may have over-done it with the cake though..."
His head tuned in Ricky's direction, removing one of his hands from her shirt, to outstretch it towards him, whining out a pitiful, "Da."
Ricky took a seat on the mattress, holding out one hand, "What's wrong buddy? Did you have too much cake, huh?" John whined again, taking small stumbly footsteps in his direction. Catching him before he could hit his bottom, Ricky puckered his lip out, and adjusted his weight between his hands, kissing his forehead, "You gotta get some rest, little guy."
His eyes wandered over to her, a blush coming to his cheeks at the oversized V-neck hanging a little too loosely - each tug of John's small hand sending it further down until her cleavage was showing openly
Amy gasped under her breath, quickly moving off the bed in embarrassment. He caught her wrist, his voice soft, "You don't have to be ashamed - or cover up, Amy."
Her eyes roamed over his, trying to find a trick in his words: the hidden innuendo laced with charm that led them to that uncomfortable couch that night at bandcamp. But it wasn't there, instead something she couldn't place was.
Ricky sighed, rubbing his hand over the one-year-olds head as he started to slide off the mattress, "I'm gonna head to bed, but I'm right on the couch if you need anything."
John didn't like that because his cry of, "daaaa daaaa" when Ricky started to walk away, drew him back.
She sighed now, "Why don't you just stay in here until he falls asleep? There's enough room for both of us and John is right here - I think he wants us both tonight. Unless that's…too weird..."
He watched her fidget as she spoke, scooting over to give him some space. He smiled and took it, gathering their baby into his embrace, "It's not too weird. You're sure you don't mind?"
"No…it's…nice." Her smile slowly turned down, not because of what was happening in that moment, but because of all the moments like this they'd never have.
"Yeah... it is nice, isn't it?" Pushing himself up against the headboard, Ricky balanced John on his lap, kissing his cheeks as he squirmed and whined more.
Out of habit, Amy put her hand on one of them, not at all expecting the shivers that shot through her body like electricity when Ricky's lips accidently brushed against her hand. It was enough to make her breath hitch. Her tired voice broke through the screaming inside her head, as she whispered, "I think John had a good birthday…with us... maybe even the best birthday ever?"
John's breathing had started to even out, she could tell because the little crease of worry in Ricky's forehead had relaxed, "I'm going to go brush my teeth and get a glass of water... want anything?"
He shifted his hips slightly, laying his left cheek atop John's head, "No, I'm good. Thanks though."
She nodded awkwardly, stopping just before she reached the door, "Hey Ricky..."
His eyes lifted slightly, "Hmmm?"
"Thank you for making tonight special for him..." She bit her lip, "and me..."
His lip tipped up, "Thanks for letting me", eyes soft, "And thank you for last year. I know it's been hard on you, but honestly Amy... I'll never be able to thank you enough for this - for him."
Her eyes were starting to get glassy, holding back the tears threatening to break from her dark lashes, "You don't have to. You played a role too" The lilt in her voice was evident, eyes cutting to his quickly - the smirk making its way onto his face, knowing she too was thinking about that night again.
"And then I fell asleep with you pressed into my chest and -" He was cut off by a loud snore, the over-energetic toddler finally crashing out on his chest. He chuckled lightly, staring at the way John's lips pursed into a pout. Not wanting to move him, in fears it would wake him, Ricky closed his eyes and leaned further into the sofa cushion, swiping his thumb gently across John's forehead as he kissed his temple and whispered, "We're going to be happy again, John... I promise."
"Look who finally decided to pick up!" She growled, pacing the spot by her bed
He scoffed, "Yeah well, you generally don't call three times in a row - figured something must be on fire."
"Funny. You couldn't have picked up the first two times? What got some girl there you don't want me to know about?" Amy's tone was accusatory
"I'm going to ignore that comment because of how ridiculous it is, and because it's late, I'm tired, and I don't feel like talking. What do you want, Amy?"
"I want to talk about what we talked about before - about my mom getting that place here in New York -"
"You mean how you suddenly decided that you want to be a partial mother to our children again, 3,000 miles away, while your mom takes care of you?" Ricky scoffed again, "I haven't changed my mind. They are not going to live in New York with you. It's not happening!"
"Would you just hear me out?"
"I did! I'm not changing my mind. You left. You chose a life that didn't include us! I'm not just going to rip our kids away from the life they've known to cater to your whims! I'm just not! Don't push this again!"
His tone hardened, making Amy's brow furrow in annoyance and anger, "Can we not just have a civilized discussion like adults? You always claim to be an adult - start acting like one!"
"I am! I've been here taking care of OUR children while you're off in New York doing who knows what, with who knows who!" He snapped back, "Don't you dare tell me to act like an adult when you're stomping your feet and puffing like a child because I won't give you your way! You gave up that right when you walked out the door!" Ricky paused and she could hear him doing one of his deep breathing exercises he also taught to John to combat his inconsolable tantrums. Clicking his tongue he continued, "So tell your mom, and tell your new boyfriend to deal with your little tantrum because I'm not doing it anymore!"
Removing the device from her ear, she made a face, scrunching her brows, and squinting her eyes, scoffing with disgust, "You know what? Screw you!"
"Screw me? Really? Screw you!" He shot back, releasing a deep exhale through his mouth, "I can't keep doing this with you, Amy. This constant struggle... It's going to ruin me." He sniffled, voice growing smaller, "I can't trust you, therefore I can't love you, but I can't hate you because it's ruining my life, and affecting our kids...I lose either way."
Slightly taken aback by his brash confession, Amy gulped slowly, "What does that mean?"
"It's means... that I need to nothing you... Amy. I need to feel nothing for you..." There was a quiver and a break, and she knew that he was trying not to cry, "I need to not think about you - I need to not care about you at all -"
Not being able to hear anymore, she clicked the button and hung up, tossing the device on the bed. Her hands went to her hair, as the tears fell down her cheeks and the weight of his words brought her to her knees.
"You really should get some sleep, Ames..." He whispered sweetly, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her left ear, before placing a kiss on her shoulder
She sniffled, "I can't help it. I can't let her go..." keeping her eyes on the small little being wrapped in her arms, "I'm afraid if I put her down she's going to get whisked away; disappear somewhere I won't be able to get her back."
Ricky's eyes cut to their daughter, stroking her incredibly small fist with the tip of his thumb, "She's right here. She's not going anywhere." Amy didn't seem convinced by the way her grip only increased. He sighed tiredly, wiping a tear away from her jaw, "I can take her for awhile if you want? Let you get some rest..."
She hesitated, glancing between him and their infant quickly, "You haven't slept much in a few days, you sure?"
"It'll give us some bonding time," He nodded, cupping his hands under their daughter's tiny body, bringing her to his chest, a big smile coming to his face, "and besides... sleep is for the weak"
Amy smiled tiredly, rubbing her eye, "I love you..."
Brushing the baby's forehead with his lips, Ricky chuckled softly, "I love you too. Now... goodnight mommy, we'll be here when you wake up"
Drawing her knees into her chest, she shook with sobs; hands covering her face as she wailed into them.
The unmoving still image accompanied by the haunting words, "no...heartbeat..." berating her core; making her whimper like a wounded animal as she touched her abdomen slowly: the visible scars fully healed.
Fighting the urge to throw the phone across the room when she had hung up on him, he sniffled and closed his eyes for a second; taking deep and slow breaths in and out before bringing the device back up to his ear.
"Hey - sorry for calling so late I just -" Ricky started, "I want to apologize for the other night... I'm just not ready for that kind of thing right now - maybe... we could hang out again though? If you're open to it?" The person on the other end, making him smile, "Great, I'll uh - I'll call you tomorrow?"
Hanging up, he bit his lip, staring down at the golden band still perfectly still on his finger.
"My fingers feel like sausages, they're so swollen. Look at this!" She pouted, thrusting her left hand in his line of sight before dropping back against the pillows.
He chuckled a little, moving his fingers in small circles across the bridge of her foot, "Did you swell this much with John?"
Shaking her head, "Not that I can remember... but I was younger with him..." Amy pursed her lips, bringing her hand up to her face, admiring the shiny gold band on her finger, "at least my rings won't fall off my hand now -" Flexing her foot for him to reach a certain spot, she glanced at his hand, "Are you ever worried about that? About losing your ring?"
Pushing his lips outward, Ricky shook his head, "Not really." Pausing from his task, he too started glancing at it; admiring it's shine against the light, "You know in a weird way, it's like it's cemented to my finger; like it knows exactly where to stay in order not to slip...and when I glance at it, I think about you - and about our son - and the great life we've been given so far."
Her eyes were starting to well up, a swift little jab to her abdomen causing her to release a giggle, "Peanut liked your answer"
His brow rose, "Peanut, huh?"
Rubbing her hand slowly over her expanding bump, "We don't know what it is yet, and... I don't know... I thought it sounded cute."
"You're cute." He smirked at her, genuine love in his eyes as they kept focus on her hands cradling their unborn child.
He swiped his cheeks, closing his eyes again as he blindly went to his hand, and removed the band.
It fell out of his fingers and hit the wooden floor with a click .
But instead of picking it up, and putting it back on... he turned on his heels and walked away.
If your brain also hurts from the all the Child Psychology notes I dug out from College, you're not alone! This was wayyy longer than I originally anticipated. Stay tuned, I'll try to make the next one a little shorter.
Also anyone spot the Easter Egg I threw in?