"Anything in my life that I want, I get - for myself! Don't need no woman, giving it to me, understand? I have earned everything that I have!"
"Well for that performance back there, consider what I'll offer earned as well."
"Will you stop ... calm down."
"I just wanna goo-o-o - why won't you just let me go? I've made an absolute ass of myself, isn't that enough? I'm offering you controlling interests! Do you know what kind of power you'll have? Do you know the stuff it can get you? Plenty - I can tell you that now! The best of everything! Because I've got the best - you name it, I got it! But - but - I can tell you one thing though - one thing it won't buy you - and I know ... it won't buy you love. I know, because of all that I have ... nobody ... and I do mean ... nobody ... loves me! Not even my own mother," She wiped at her streaming tears, "Not my father, not Shawn ... and - certainly, not even my own daughter ... loves me.... I mean, come on - I'm not that bad am I?" She sobbed out the question as if earnestly trying to understand it.
Jeremiah carefully approached her, his hands rose palming her head, bring her face into view. Red, ravaged by her tears, he stared down at her. "I don't want you to go." He spoke low, "I don't want - your money - or - your controlling interest," He gave a sad smile, his thumbs clearing her tears from her soft cheeks. "I want you here, right here - with me; I want you safe. And, I want you to dry your tears, get out of these clothes and into something more comfortable. And then, I want you to take a deep breath, and be resolved, to give us - one day - at a time. Okay?"
She sniffed, staring up at him. She wanted him to hug her. She wanted a strong and powerful hug, one that made her feel, that he never wanted to let her go. But instead, he smiled down at her, took her hand, and lead her towards her bag, that he picked up and then, holding them both, her bag and hand, he led her to his room, his bathroom. Tossing the bag inside, he kissed her brow and then gently nudged her in behind it.
Half an hour later, when she came out, showered, refreshed and a bit reserved and shy, feeling ashamed of her outpour - she went looking for him. He was in the kitchen fixing them of all things, an ice cream float. Vanilla ice cream with root beer. He looked up at her, smiling, "You smell good." He complimented, seeing her all freshly showered, hair washed, she'd put on his pyjama top to the pants he was wearing, she looked adorable in it - he was pleased by it.
"Thanks, sorry for-..."
"Ah ah ah! That's over with, right? Look at this, you know what this is?"
"Looks like, root beer floats - I wish you hadn't made that one for me, I don't - well - deserts at this time of the evening, makes you fat."
"Ha! So much for you miss high and mighty rich Wherrington, shows what you know, this - is not a root beer float!" He denied despite the evidence of ice cream and root beer.
Deidre smiled, "Oookay, so - if it's not, what is it then?"
"It's feel good tonic!"
"Which is another thing that makes people fat, eating to feel good." She went on.
"Never mind that - come here - put that ice cream away." He instructed as he continued, adding little touches to it.
Deidre walked over doing as he said, he noted her long shapely legs coming out from beneath his silk pyjama top and almost lost his train of thought, "My mother, when she was alive and we were very young, would have Max and I, help her make a float, and as we did this, in our little kitchen, we would talk about things that would upset us, while adding what we thought would make our own float different. Here's yours, come and add to yours, I'll go running with you in the morning, that'll kill it."
Sighing, Deidre approached the counter, "Why root beer floats?"
"Cheap! Vanilla ice cream, and root beer soda - poor folk desert - with a shake of cinnamon and a dash of nutmeg, or whatever we had, made it nice. Well, what really made it nice, was my mother, talking to us. She always gave us, a bright outlook, no matter how dim the future seemed. No matter how upset we were, or - she was, she always said - there's always tomorrow, and we should thank God for today, show a little appreciation and tomorrow, would be better."
He passed her, her cold treat and then grabbed her hand, leading her into the living room, where he placed her before the sofa, motioning for her to sit, she did, eying the desert. "Give it a taste, it won't bite you." He grinned, walking to the stereo to turn on some chill music, something soft, gentle, easy to talk by. He walked back to the sofa, sat down, picked up his desert, put his feet up on the coffee table and looked at her, "There's your spoon, here ... you rich girls..." He shook his head, pulling out the long ice cream spoon, scooped up a bit and held it to her mouth, "Come on, try it." Looking from him, to it, she opened her mouth and closed it around the spoon, clearing it as he pulled it out.
"Is that good?" He asked.
She squished it around in her mouth, and then, reluctantly nodded.
"Thought you'd like that. You see, you can't have it often, only at special times." He explained. Leaning aside, he sat his down on the end table, and focused on feeding her, as he shared her desert. Slanting his body her way to give her the next spoon full. She took it again. She didn't know why it tasted so good, maybe it was because he made it, and was feeding it to her. She glanced past him at his, "What about yours?" She asked after swallowing. He was taking his turn with the spoon coming out of his mouth, "I like eating it this way better, what about you?" He asked, giving her a turn. She nodded, starting to smile more, "I like it."
"Thought you would. When I was a boy, and my mother did this, she would talk to us, tell us things like, everything in life, good and bad, has a value. The good things in life, are there to make us appreciate life, and the bad things in life, are there to make us understand the true value in learning what the really good things are. And to ... hold all the good things, as precious ... well... because the bad things are coming. And if we treasure the good - enough, we'll endure the bad, because the good things, are the reward - for getting through it and holding on tight. Everything in life, is only, good and bad. With trillions of branches that lead to other things that are always, good or bad. One of the good things in life, is for instance, love. It is, one of the most valuable things ever existing, nothing is as grand, as that. One of the bad things, money. No two ways about it. And you cannot take something bad, to purchase something good. The good, is precious - and should be carefully given." He talked to her, as he fed her the float. She didn't say anything, just sat beside him, listening, loving his attention to her.
"You Deidre Charlotte Wherrington - you are precious. You're a good thing, that landed into something bad. And even so, the good remains. That is why, I could never, use you, to deal with them. And if you, endure - good things, always comes to those who are deserving. Even ... love."
There was a bit left in the bottom, he drank that down. Deidre watched him and then asked, "And your mother, wasn't she - a good thing? In what form, did she get what she deserved? Certainly not for her life to end as it did."
"No, she didn't deserve that ending. And I've thought of that many times, and all I'm resigned to, is holding on to that fact that everything has a reason for being. Good or bad, it serves a purpose, maybe we'll never know what that might be. My point is that you, until the day you die, must look at what is good about today - and be thankful for that. How I feel about you, how any man, or persons feel about you, is up to them - don't let it wreck your peace within. Love yourself first Deidre and the rest, will follow."
"Does that, include you?"
"Time will tell. From this moment on, I'll never lie to you. Will this between us grow? I'm not going to run away afraid if it does. But I don't want to say those words to you, until or unless I am 100% on them. Is that fair?"
She sighed, gave a sad smile and nodded. She turned away and took her tall empty desert glass and grabbed the other one, "You gonna drink this?" She asked standing.
"No, I'm fine."
She walked back into the kitchen and washed out the glasses, stacking them in the rack.
She turned to leave the kitchen to see him standing there watching her, "Something wrong?" She asked.
"Nope... come here." He reached out for her, taking her wrist in hand and pulling her towards him and then wrapped his arms around her, holding her close and tight, hugging her long and strong. "Life is funny isn't it? Who ever thought that you and I, would be here like this today?" He spoke at the side of her head, unwilling to release her, he kissed the side of her head.
Deidre stood with her arms slowly closing around him, holding on and then, hugging, tightly, holding on, feeling something in her body shift and move over her. Any moment now, she expected him to move away, but he didn't, he held on; she bit into her lip not to cry. It felt so good. So very good. She thought she could count on one hand, with half the fingers gone, all the times in her life that she'd been hugged this way. In fact, as she stood being held so tightly, racking her brain, reflecting back, she realized that she'd never, in her entire life - been hugged this way, not ever - not by anyone, not even by Shawn - not like this.
Jeremiah was kissing towards her forehead, down her cheek, searching for her mouth, she gave it gladly. He kissed her, held her tightly as he kissed her, and then slow moments later, he gradually lifted his head, gazing down into her face. "Let's go to bed. Get cozy and close, watch a little TV? Nightly news? Mind?"
She couldn't speak, too choked up. She shook her head, that she didn't mind. In fact, if he would hold her like this there, she never wanted to get out of bed.
Clicking the kitchen light out, he took her hand in his and off to bed they went. Deidre, feeling as though she were floating on a cloud.
* * *
Ben sat out by the pool. It was late at night and everyone had gone to bed. He sat forward in one of the lounge chairs, an elbow to his knee, hand propped beneath his chin while the other hand, held and played with the rings. The driver had given them to him a while ago after he'd neglected to claim them from him. Now he sat, opened package and box on the ground between his feet, while he twirled them about on and off his fingers. They were stunning rings, cut to catch any trace of light, and reflect it back, making them sparkle. One was smaller than the other, the woman's ring.
As he sat, he couldn't help but reflect on his life. Being a McPherson, the son of the oldest son. The one the family had moaned often about being missing from the clan. As a young boy, any slight conversation started that was about Shawn, and he could hear it, he had always crept quietly closer to hear what it was about. Always holding his breath hoping that what they were saying, was that he was coming home. He remembered too, times when he'd been standing looking at the pictures his grandma kept on display around the house, the ones of Shawn always froze him in place staring. A time or two, when he'd been staring, his other "father" Jake, would catch him there, asking him, "What's up?" He would be looking at him, and then looking at his brother's picture and then back to Ben.
"Nothing," He remembered answering, "Just looking at pictures, wondering - what he was like?" He would nod towards Shawn's picture and then look up to Jake, hoping he would talk about him. But Jake always seemed caught unsure of what to say to him. He too, would stare at his picture, as if many thoughts went through his mind. Finally he'd answer, "He was okay, you know, like a big brother is. Protecting you one second and kicking your ass the next." He would smile then, "Maybe one day, if he ever comes back - you'll meet him."
Ben had nodded accepting that that was all he was going to get out of Jake, his father; about the man, that he must have known was his father. Yet, he'd never treated him any different from Kevin or Paul, his real sons. In fact, reflecting back, there were times when he looked to him more, stroked his head affectionately just a bit more often. Laughed and teased them, with him - more. He, Jake, was their older brother at times. Sometimes, he was like an uncle. And while he was their father, he was more of an escort and driver for them if his grandma or one of their aunts couldn't pick them up and take them places, then he did. Having fun with them. Not like a father, not like an uncle, but an older brother, laughing at their antics, kidding around with them, only mildly correcting them when they needed it. He smiled thinking about Jake, wondering how many times had his grandma yelled and fussed at him for acting like one of them, joking and kidding around instead of being their dad.
Ben shook his head from the memory of it. And then there was Quincy and now - finally - after all these years, there was Shawn - his real father. All the men in his life, that surrounded him, were naturals when it came to being with, or over, other men's children. Jake had been the first example of it. His uncle Derrick had been the next example, taking on Derrick Jr. Quincy had followed being the most direct example, being a real, true, deep loving father to him and Kevin. Now, his very own father - Shawn - he saw was more father to Mundo and Crystal, than to him. He wondered, if that was part of the attraction to Crystal, her two boys? The familiar rightness of it displayed by family, made that something in him, feel at ease, at home, and touched to do likewise, it just felt natural. He realized that he was not only attracted to her, but to them, the boys as well. They were little magnets, little men, that needed a man in their lives, to hold them, teach them, guide them, mold them, and make them feel, loved. As much as he wanted Shawn, wanted his real father, the man whom he'd secretly hero worshipped, he had been loved, made to feel valued - because of Jake, because of his grandpa Bart, because of Quincy. Yet, he hadn't felt whole. With all that they'd done in bringing him up, there had still been a piece missing. He thought about Darren and Isaac. He could love them easily, in fact, already did. Even so, he also knew, because he'd been there, that nothing was quite like, being loved by the man you knew was your father. That man - was Victor. And he hated it!
He sat playing with the rings, jealous of Victor. Jealous of what he had. He hadn't a clue of how lucky he was. To have someone like Crystal, loving him, being loyal to him, despite his efforts to turn her away from him. He was jealous, because no matter how he loved his boys, they would always want him. Just as he had always wanted Shawn. He couldn't believe that he was actually going to let her divorce him. He couldn't believe it. He knew, that were it him, there was no way he could let her go. There was no way, she could take his boys and skip off out of town and he not come looking for her. No way. Because every single day of his boys lives, he would be there. There would be no time in between or weekend visits, to hell with that! He would be there every day, picking his boys up right after work. Them separated or not. Yet, his boys - didn't even miss him. To Ben, that alone said, he was not loving them, putting them first as he should, or else, they would want to go home, to be with him.
"You're some stupid fucker you!" He murmured about Victor. "You should be looking for your boys, demanding to know where they are and come looking for them, why aren't you? What are you doing man?!" Ben shook his head, thinking about himself as a young boy. He had a lot to draw on. His head shook because he was becoming entangled, involved and yes, possessive. He wanted, what Victor had and threw away. He wanted it all, the whole deal. And yet, he couldn't have it. He tossed the rings up and caught them. They made him think. He smiled. There was a reason he won those rings, there was a reason. He opened his palm and looked at them. The big one was his, the smaller one, hers - Crystal's. No other name, or face materialized when he looked at that ring, only her face. "I'm gonna wait for you Crystal Bella, I'm gonna wait for you, because - you - are worth, waiting for." He promised softly.
He heard the patio doors slid open and looked up to see his father, Shawn coming out there with him in his sights.
"Hey," He greeted his father.
"Hey," He greeted him in return, taking the seat next to him.
Ben reached down for the box, placing the rings inside. Shawn couldn't miss them. "What's that?"
"Rings, won them at the ball the other night."
"Really, lemme see?" He reached for them.
Sighing, Ben passed them over.
Shawn took one in hand, close
ly examining it. "Wow, that's some money. Their wedding bands." He stated the obvious.
"Yeah." Ben commented quietly agreeing.
Shawn looked over at him, "What are you gonna do with'em?" He asked, passing them back.
Ben took them, looked at them a moment, and then, put them away, it took him a moment to answer, but when he did, he was honest. "I'm gonna keep'em." He started and then, looked Shawn right in the eyes and said, "And if I'm lucky, one day, I'll be slipping that smaller one, on Crystal's finger." He held eye contact with his father, not turning away, because he wanted him to know, that he was serious about it.
"You - you've fallen in love with her." Shawn stated it as fact, he could see it.
"Yeah - her, and - those two little boys. I ah, know why - why you love her, Mundo, the way you do. I know why, you get something so powerful and moving, back, from giving to them. I can't explain it, I just know - it feels good. Today, this morning, when I held Darren in the pool, his little arms were around my neck and his little head, was next to mine, trusting me, holding onto me, depending on me - and he uh, whispered in my ear, in that little babies voice of his, he said, 'lov'you Ben'amin.'" Telling Shawn about it choked him up. He looked away from him. Shawn sat staring at his son, his son! Yes, right then, at that moment, in that very second, he knew that he was all he would have wanted, any son he raised to be. He both envied Quincy and made a point of remembering to thank him when he returned.
He lifted his hand, a bit hesitant, but then followed through and grasped the back of Ben's neck, squeezing it, rubbing his shoulder and back as he'd done Mundo many times. Why he felt more comfortable doing it to Mundo, than Ben, he couldn't explain - but he suddenly realized that he needed to be comfortable with this son as well. He caressed and rocked him a bit in compassion, "You - you young man, you are - a good son. You, make a father, proud. I promise you, I will let Quincy know that."
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