"I thought you were going to get some sleep."
"I did. And then the captain called and woke me up. Couldn't sleep again after I talked to him. So, I figured I'd help you clean out the fridge." He motioned to the empty bottles. "You're welcome, by the way."
"Smart ass." She slugged him lightly. "Everything okay with the captain?"
"Internal Affairs is opening an investigation in to the shooting." His voiced hitched a tiny bit. "Me and the new guy, Connor, are the subjects of interest because we had the most interaction with the suspect."
"Seriously?" She sat up and looked down at him again.
"Yes. They think there is more to the story than what anyone is saying."
"There were witnesses. Everyone saw that guy shoot Gary. It's probably on Gary's body cam. And Marietta said that Ricky told her Connor didn't cuff the guy when they detained him."
Antonio lifted a hand to his forehead and rubbed the area over his eyes. "I know. I know. Captain says its standard procedure though. I'm officially on paid administrative leave pending the outcome of the investigation."
"I think you could use a few days off anyway. This could be a good thing." She threaded her fingers with his. "You could spend some time with Tony. We could put the Christmas lights up and go get a tree."
He grunted. "Right now, all I want is another beer."
"Maybe take a break on the beer for a bit, baby?"
"I'm not a fucking child. I'm a grown ass man who wants a beer." He sat up and swung his legs over the side of the bed. The momentum of the move took his torso along for the ride, sending Antonio to the floor.
"Antonio! Are you okay?" Vivian scrambled to the other side of the bed and looked down at her husband sprawled on the floor.
"I think I'll just lay here for a little while. Just wait for the room to stand still. Hand me a pillow, would ya?"
Vivian shook her head as she grabbed a pillow and handed it down to him. "I'll go get some dinner started."
Antonio had already rolled to his side and tucked the pillow in under his head. He waved her off. "Call me when it's ready. I just need a little nap."
Standing up, she straightened her clothes. "You're a hot mess, baby. You need so much more than a nap."
The only response was a loud snore from Antonio. She left the room, closing the door behind her and headed toward the stairs.
"Hey, Mom." Tony was sitting up on his bed, his headphones in his lap.
"Hi, honey." She walked in to the room and gave him a hug.
"Are the twins home yet? I wanted to give them a call but wanted to make sure Ms. Eleanor had a chance to tell them first."
She ruffled his too long curls. "Yes, they're home and they know about their dad. They want to hang out with you while they're here."
Tony gave her a sad smile. "Okay. I'll text them later. Once I figure out what to say. It's not like I can text and say sorry some junkie asshat killed your dad."
"First of all, watch the language around your mother. Second, they are your friends. Just tell them how you feel. They will appreciate hearing from you."
Tony flopped back on his bed. Laying there like that, he looked so much like his father. "This whole thing just sucks, Mom. Why did it happen? What if it'd been Dad?"
"I've been asking myself those same questions all day long and the truth is, I don't have any answers right now."
He sat back up. "Dad can be a real jerk sometimes. And he yells a lot, but he's my dad, you know? I don't know what I'd do if he were killed."
She sat down beside him, wrapping an arm around his shoulders. "I know, honey. I know. He's not perfect but he's ours and we need him as much as he needs us. Let's just be thankful he is still with us."
Tony leaned his head on her shoulder. "It's hard to thankful when I am actually kinda mad at God for taking Mr. Gary away."
"That wasn't God, honey. That was a crazy man with a gun who was probably high on something."
He shrugged. "Either way. It's still not fair."
"No, it's really not. I'm going down stairs to start dinner. Do you have any homework?"
"Just a little Spanish to finish up."
She smiled and ruffled his hair once more. "Easy A, then?"
"Yeah." He laughed. "It helps hanging around Ms. Mari and Mr. Ricky when they are arguing. I've learned all the cool swear words."
Vivian laughed too. "They do get pretty excited."
Leaving Tony to his homework, she headed downstairs and into the kitchen. As she prepared dinner, she thought about their conversation. Every now and then, a loud snore sounded through the floor making her giggle. Finding him on the bed like that had scared her. He looked so much like Gary's lifeless form in the hospital.
She pulled out some vegetables to chop up for a salad. Antonio's come home text had cut her visit short and she hadn't gotten to eat any of Mari's tasty food.
As she sliced an onion, Antonio's words echoed back in her mind. If I wanted to do that, I'd eat my gun. Moisture filled her eyes but she blamed it on the onion. Picking up the tomato, she chopped it in to bite sized pieces. It's a hell of a lot quicker. A random tear escaped the corner of one eye, her heart aching for the man she loved.
Pealing and slicing the cucumber, she thought about the added stress of an IA investigation. She'd have to keep a close eye on her husband. He was already in a bad way. The knife slipped, slicing the side of her finger.
"Son of a bitch!" She threw the knife into the sink and turned on the water, running the injured finger under the cold stream. Her tears ran in sync with the water as all of the stress of the last twenty-four hours overcame her.
Antonio was far from perfect but he was hers and she'd be thankful every day for the rest of her life that he was still there with them.
Chapter Five
Eleanor
If she'd actually slept, she could say she was up before the sun but really all she'd done was toss and turn all night. Gary's side of the bed felt so much more empty than usual, knowing he'd never sleep there again.
Everything felt different now. Bigger. Emptier. Colder.
If only she could wrap her head around the fact that Gary was really and truly gone. She spent half the night waiting for the phone to ring with her goodnight call and the other half reminding herself that it would never come again.
When she did manage to doze off, her dreams were filled with blood and hospitals and Gary dead.
The house had a chill to it when she finally dragged herself out of bed. Before getting in the shower, she walked down the hall and adjusted the thermostat. A rush of cold air came up the steps making her shiver. Winter was going to be hard this year if it were already this cold. As Eleanor headed back to her bedroom, she heard talking from Jackson's room so she tapped lightly and turned the knob to open the door.
Jackson was still in bed, sound asleep. He must have been talking in his sleep; a habit he'd had since childhood. By day, the older of her twins by ten minutes stayed stoic. His life was always organized, planned, and arranged around a tight schedule. He kept his emotions close until he fell asleep. Then, anything that had upset him in his waking hours came back to be freely expressed while he slept—a trait he'd inherited from her.
Jameson, the "younger" twin, was the exact opposite. He showed every emotion he had like an open book. Everyone always knew when he was upset, happy, hungry or whatever. Once he fell asleep, though, a certain peace would settle in around him, giving his passionate soul a chance to rest and recharge.
She closed Jackson's door and returned to her own room. Even with the valve wide open, the hot water of her shower couldn't seem to warm her. She shivered as she stood under the hot spray, making a mental list of all the things she had to get done before the end of the day. A trip to the funeral home to make arrangements, florist to choose something for the casket and the altar, the church to choose a day and time for the mass…it was all so overwhelming.
The crack in the tile from the day Gary'd died caught her ey
e. She ran a finger down it, feeling the tiny chips of ceramic press against her skin and the emotions of the day she'd broken it came back in a flood. Tears ran from her eyes, mixing with the soap she rinsed from her body. Gary'd been gone almost 48 hours and it felt like a lifetime since she'd heard him laugh or felt his arms around her.
She stood there, crying and hugging herself until the water began to run cool. She shut off the taps and dried off her body. Wrapping herself in a robe, she headed to her closet and dug out a pair of black leggings and an oversized black sweater. Gary's death had pulled all the color from her life.
She'd need an appropriate black dress for the services so add shopping to the list of things to get done. Etiquette dictated a woman in mourning wear all black, right?
Stopping to look at herself in the mirror, Eleanor ran a brush through her tangled hair. No amount of makeup would hide the redness of her face or puffiness of her eyes but a hairbrush she could manage. Once the knots were out, she twisted it into a bun high on her head and called it quits.
Downstairs, she could practically see her breath in the air. "I could have sworn I turned the heat on last night. So, why is it like fifty-eight degrees in here?"
The screen on the thermostat read error. Eleanor shut it off, counted slowly to ten like Gary'd showed her the last time it happened, then turned it back on. The error message reappeared.
"Freaking wonderful!" Eleanor smacked the plastic cover of the thermostat. "Really? Today? I can't deal with this right now."
Her eyes burned with the desire to cry once more but her tear ducts had nothing left. She turned the thermostat to off and grabbed a sweater out of the hall closet. The kitchen felt even colder than the hallway. Pulling open a drawer, she grabbed the tiny screwdriver Gary had put in there and a couple of double A batteries. Using the screwdriver, she opened the thermostat case and pulled out the old batteries, replacing them with the new ones. After snapping the cover back on and screwing it in place, she flipped the switch to on. The screen went completely blank for a second and then the error message returned.
"Of course, it couldn't have been that easy!" She stomped a foot and threw her elbow back into the wall. The drywall gave way and her elbow sunk into the material. "Damn it!"
Resting her head against the broken thermostat, she closed her eyes and inhaled slowly. "You got this. You just need to call someone to look at it." Saying the words out loud help some.
Standing up, she walked back to the kitchen. Filling the tea kettle, she set it on the stove and turned on the burner. Maybe it would warm up a little if she cooked something. Looking for the skillet, she got sidetracked and started to unload the dishwasher. Halfway through that, she remembered the load of clothes in the dryer so she went to the laundry room to turn the dryer on fluff. On her way back, she remembered breakfast. As she pulled bacon and eggs from the refrigerator, the tea kettle let out a shrill whistle, making her jump. The entire carton of eggs flew through the air and landed on the tile floor.
Eleanor slid down the front of the refrigerator to the floor, pulling her knees up to her chest and crossing her arms on top of her knees. She surveyed the damage. Every single egg in the carton had managed to free itself of the container. Shells clung to the cabinets, egg yolk ran down the front of the stainless steel stove and sticky nastiness spread all over the tiles. The tea kettle still whistled and spit steam out of its spout but Eleanor didn't move.
When she heard the sound of feet pounding down the steps, she still didn't move.
"Mom!" Jameson entered the kitchen wearing only a pair of shorts. "Are you okay?" He hugged himself, running his hands up and down his arms. "And why is it so flipping cold in here?"
Eleanor looked up at her son, with his wild, too long hair standing up in every direction. He looked so much like Gary it hurt. "I dropped the eggs."
Moving carefully to avoid the sticky egg mess, her son leaned over and shut off the burner with the tea pot. "Did you slip?" he asked her.
She shook her head. "Nope."
"Then why are you sitting on the floor like that?"
"I'm tired. It seemed like the easiest thing to do." She rested her chin on her forearms. "I didn't get much sleep last night."
Jameson settled in next to her, his own knees pulled up and his head resting on his arms in the same way. "It's okay, Mom."
"The thermostat is broken. I tried to fix it the way Dad showed me but it won't work. I can't get it to work!" Tears rolled down her cheeks.
"We'll call someone to fix it. Don't cry, Mom."
Jameson wrapped an arm around her and pulled her toward him so her head rested on his shoulder. His gentle demeanor was so much like Gary's it brought out a couple more of those tears.
"I miss him. I don't know what to do without him."
"I miss him too. Last night all I did was dream about him."
Eleanor turned to look at Jameson. "What kind of dreams?"
He shook his head slightly. “I definitely don't want to describe them."
"I'm sorry, baby. You shouldn't have to be dealing with that."
"People die, Mom. That's what Dad always said when he talked about DOA's." The hitch in his voice and moisture in his eyes belied the detachment of his words.
"People do die, but we are talking about your father. My husband and best friend in the world. How do I—we—go on without him?"
He shrugged. "I guess we just do. Dad would be pissed if we didn't."
"Jameson!" She swatted at him, lightly.
He laughed, raising his hands in mock surrender. "What? You know it's true."
"All right, I'll give you that. He wouldn't want us moping around. The sadness is just too powerful right now though. How's your brother doing with everything?"
"You know Jackson. He refuses to have any emotions ever."
She patted him on the knee. "I know it looks like that on the outside but your brother is a river than runs deep. He'll seem fine until one day something will happen—a song, a particular memory—and then it will all come out at once."
"That's not too healthy."
"Everyone deals with grief differently."
Jameson jumped to his feet. "I'm going to take a shower and get dressed. What time are we going to the funeral home?"
"After breakfast. I have to get some things together but first I need to clean up this mess." She motioned toward the eggs splattered all over the kitchen.
"Do you want some help?" Jameson asked.
"I got it. You can take the garbage out though when I'm done so the house won't smell like rotten eggs all afternoon."
"Okay. I'll get Jackson up while I'm up there."
She nodded. "Shower first. Then wake him. He was up pretty late talking to someone named Stephanie."
Jameson laughed. "Ah, Stephanie. You'd like her, Mom. She's kinda nerdy like my brother."
"How long has he had this girlfriend he hasn't mentioned?"
He shrugged. "He claims they are just friends. They met in a class and studied together. Now they talk a lot and hang out but he's never said anything else about her."
"Just friends, huh? They were on the phone until after midnight. I know this because I was awake much, much later than that."
They heard footsteps in the upstairs hallway. "Sounds like he's already up. I'll never beat him to the shower now."
Jameson took off running to the stairs, taking the steps two at a time. She heard them exchange words and then some kind of scuffle.
An hour later, the kitchen was mostly clean, they'd had breakfast, and Eleanor stood by the front door yelling to her sons. "I'm leaving!"
"Wait!" Jackson called back. "We're coming!"
Thunderous footsteps overhead told her they were racing to the steps. It didn't matter if they were twelve or twenty, those two boys would always compete with each other for everything. On a normal day, she'd laugh and tell them to knock it off. On this day, she felt torn between tears and annoyance. How could they go on like nothing had changed?<
br />
"Hey guys! Miss Mari is going to meet me there. You don't have to do this."
Both boys appeared at the top of the steps, Jackson with Jameson in a headlock. "We're coming for moral support."
"It's going to be a difficult appointment," she replied.
"Which is why we need to be there with you," Jackson said, letting go of his twin. "It's what Dad would want."
"Okay." She turned and opened the front door. "I'll go warm up the car. Meet me outside as soon as you have your jackets on."
The cold air bit into the bare skin of her face as she practically ran to the car. Apparently, the temperature had dropped over night much more than she'd thought. It took a couple of tries for the battery to catch and the engine to turn over but finally the car started. At some point, she'd have to pick Gary's truck up at the station.
Gary's truck. Until that moment, she'd forgotten all about it.
She sat there, waiting for the windows to defrost and thinking about what she was about to do.
Never in a million years would she have been expecting to plan the funeral of her forty-eight-year-old husband.
The ever present tears leaked from the corners of her eyes once more as she leaned her head back against the seat. Why? That was the one question she couldn't seem to stop asking and no one had an answer for.
Why Gary?
Why now, at this time in their lives?
She didn't want to grow old by herself. Spending her golden years rambling around in that big empty house alone held absolutely no interest to her.
"Why did you have to go and leave me?" she yelled to the ceiling of her car. "This is not how things are supposed to be!"
The front door to the house opened and her boys came barreling through it like they always had. Eleanor wiped at her eyes and plastered on her best fake smile. Once Jackson slid in to the front seat and Jameson jumped in behind her, she put the car in gear.
"You okay, Mom?" Jackson asked, looking at her with his eyes full of worry.
"I'm fine." She wiped at her eyes with her sleeve. "Just had a moment. I'm having a lot of those lately." She reached over and turned on the radio, in an effort to give her something else to think about. The nauseatingly sweet strains of a love song filled the car, crushing her heart as she listened to the words. Tears filled her eyes once more. Jackson reached over and pressed the preset buttons until he found something a little less sad for them to listen too. Eleanor backed out of the driveway without saying anything, afraid her voice would give way to the flood of emotions she tried to hold back.
The Line That Binds Page 6
