The Better Days--chapter 11
Title: The Better Days
Genre: Gen
Rating: PG-13
Chapter: 11
Summary: When your whole world turns upside down in a minute, how do you handle it? How do you go on when you're missing a huge piece of yourself? This is Zac's story as he tries to survive the worst thing that's ever happened to him.
My beta, writingfanson, is teh awesome. Reviews make my life!!! :-)
I've been sitting on this chapter for awhile, because I'm kinda stuck on chapter 13. But maybe reviews will help kick my muse into gear. Enjoy!
Back on the couch with Ezra, I watch as he takes a long slurp of his milk. I kind of wish I’d chosen another mug to pour the milk into; the bright red I LOVE YOU MOMMY on the blue enamel is just another needle of a reminder. I ignore the mug and focus on Ezra as he puts the mug down and snuggles into my side, sighing a little.
“Uncle Zac, I’m really sorry about Aunt Katie,” Ez says sadly, looking up at me with eyes that are a little watery. I bite the inside of my cheek. I haven’t yet discussed their aunt’s death with any of my nephews or my niece. Of course, two of them are too young to understand, but Ezra and Penny are just beginning to grasp what it means to die. Tay told me he and Natalie had a talk with them about it before the funeral. I put an arm around Ezra, not really knowing what to say.
“I am too, Ezbear,” I finally settle on, hoping my voice isn’t shaking. It’s not, yet.
“It makes me really sad that she isn’t here anymore,” Ezra says in a quiet little voice. “She tolded me the best stories. Mommy an’ Daddy say Aunt Katie’ll be happy in heaven…but…” His voice breaks, and two tears slide down Ezra’s face. Oh God, it’s making me lose it too, seeing happy little Ez so broken-hearted. “I wish she was here,” Ez whispers, and at that, tears start to fall down my own face.
I pull Ezra into my lap and enfold him in my arms. “I know, Ezzie. I do too. Every day,” I say softly, trying not to let Ez know I’m crying. For a little while, we just sit there, him in my lap with his face pressed against my shirt and me kissing the top of his head every now and again. It’s almost worse seeing this echo of my own grief and pain in Taylor’s son; Ezra is so young, he shouldn’t have to feel this kind of pain yet.
Ezra sniffles into my shirt for a few minutes as we hear Taylor heading down the hall with the laundry basket. After a time, he pulls back, reaching again for his mug, and catches a glimpse of my face. His eyes go round as he realizes I’ve been crying too. “Uncle Zac! I-I didn’ mean to make you sad! I’m sorry!” he says as he squeezes my hand.
I squeeze his hand back and wipe away the last of the tears. “Ez, you didn’t make me sad,” I say softly. “Nothing you could do could ever make me sad, okay? Don’t be sorry.”
Ezra looks away, down into his lap. “Mommy an’ Daddy told us to be careful and not make you too sad while you’re living with us,” he says. “They say we gots to help you an’ be nice to you ‘cos you’re really sad about Aunt Katie. I wanna help you, Uncle Zac…”
How is he so cute? “You are helping, Ezra,” I tell my nephew, giving him a little squeeze. “I have fun when I’m with you and Penny and River. That helps a lot.”
Ezra gives me a small smile and snuggles into my side. “I’m happy we’re helping you, Uncle Zac,” he says on a yawn, his eyelids fluttering some. Half-unconsciously I start to hum to him, the song I would hum when he was a baby on the times I could hold him when he wasn’t being passed frantically from doting uncle to doting aunt to doting grandparents. He sighs contently, leaning against me. “Will you sing to me, Uncle Zaccy?” he asks sleepily.
I think the laws of physics say it’s impossible for anyone to say no to an adorable, sleepy six-year-old. Softly I start to sing the lullaby I had been humming. “You fill up my senses, like a night in a forest…like a mountain in springtime…like a walk in the rain…” The old John Denver song is one our parents would sing us to sleep with. I always imagined myself singing it to my own children one day. I flinch away the thoughts and concentrate on the song. “Like a storm in the desert…like a sleepy blue ocean…you fill up my senses, come fill me again…”
As I start the second verse and Ezra starts to fall into a real sleep, Taylor comes back in the room, stopping in the doorway as he watches me sing to his son. “Come, let me love you…let me give my life to you…let me drown in your laughter…let me die in your arms…” My voice wavers on that line. Kate…why couldn’t I have been with you? I take a deep breath and try to keep going, but my voice shakes. I hear my brother’s familiar voice as he joins in, softly, coming to sit on the couch next to us. Together we sing to Ezra. “Let me lay down beside you…let me always be with you…come, let me love you, come love me again…”
I look over at Taylor, and with a small smile, he reaches and gently takes Ezra from my lap. He sings to him now, and my voice dies away. “You fill up my senses, like a night in a forest, like a mountain in springtime, like a walk in the rain…” As he carries Ezra off to put him back in his own bed, I sigh and stare down at my knees. I kind of wish I’d chosen a different song. Annie’s Song is another needle-reminder of my wife. Of course, everything around me always seems to remind me of Kate. Just when I think I’m starting to get used to it, her face creeps into the lyrics of another song.
Slowly I get up and take Ezra’s mug back to the kitchen. I stand for a moment just staring at my feet, and suddenly find it’s too much work to walk the three steps to the sink. Sleep has been a rare visitor lately, what little I’ve been getting restless and haunting me with her face. My eyes blur with tiredness as I stand there swaying, and the mug slips from my now nerveless fingers as I reach to cling onto the nearest counter. Is this what it was like for Kate? I wonder vaguely as my body fights to remain conscious.
Suddenly there’s an arm around me, and a voice is speaking. I vaguely recognize Taylor’s holding me up, guiding me to the nearest chair. I blink sand-filled eyes and try to focus.
“…you okay?” Taylor is saying, a shadow of worry lines in his forehead as he frowns at me. “Zac? Can you hear me?”
“I’m here,” I whisper; it’s all I can muster.
“You look awful! Are you feeling sick?” Taylor presses a hand to my forehead half-automatically.
I shake my head once. “Tired,” I murmur at my lap. I don’t have to look at Tay to know he’s frowning worriedly at me. I don’t blame him; I’m a little worried too as I sway in my seat.
“You need to rest, Zac,” he tells me as he reaches to help me up; I half-cling to him to stay standing for a little bit longer. I don’t pay too much attention to whatever else he says as he guides me back to the darkened, still-unfamiliar room I’m borrowing. He helps me into bed and I fall into unconsciousness almost as soon as my head hits the pillow. For once, I don’t dream of Kate, but of laughing children and an old song drifting over the breeze.