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Post by orinocoflow on Dec 21, 2010 15:21:22 GMT -5
This is it! Knocking on the door, Paul shuffled his frozen feet in the cold and hunching his shoulders to bring the collar of his jacket closer to his ears. When the door finally opened and heat from the fire flooded in from the inside, he blinked through the frost on his eyelashes to find Kathryn standing there in the doorway.
“Paul, come inside; it’s cold,” she said quickly, opening the door wider and brushing the snow from his shoulders as he hurried inside, nodding his thanks numbly.
“It definitely is, I’ll tell you that,” he agreed, teeth chattering. Unbuttoning the coat, he left it on, knowing that he would not be staying long.
“Paul!”
Turning just in time, Paul barely managed to not get bowled over by the charging seven-year-old, who hugged him tightly and stayed by his side.
“Thank you so much for the presents! I love the cars! Can you stay and play with me? Please? Just one race?”
“Roger, why don’t you go back to the living room, and we’ll see about that, okay? I think Paul might need a moment to catch his breath after you crashed into his like that,” she teased, smiling at the tenor.
Roger nodded and ran back into the room.
“Do you have any plans for tonight? Before the New Year, I mean,” he asked suddenly, turning back to her.
Kathryn shook her head. “No, just the two of us. You’re welcome to stay, by the way. Why do you ask?”
“Well, every New Year, a few friends and I always go to a local pub to celebrate it, bring friends, that sort of thing.”
She looked at him for a moment, but then at Roger, and finally back at Paul with a question in her eyes.
Paul shook his head. “The drinks actually don’t start until after the New Year, but even so, they don’t allow kids. Uh…do you think that you could find someone to stay with Roger? If you would like to come, that is.”
“Well, I could ask John to come over, since he usually spends the holidays by himself. But let me ask Roger first.”
A few minutes later, it was settled; Roger would stay with John, their neighbor, whom he always pestered for stories about myths and legends.
“But still, can I come with you?” Roger persisted, holding the cars Paul had gotten him.
“We’ll be back before eleven, I promise,” replied Paul, kneeling to stand before the seven-year-old. “Then we’ll have New Year’s together, true?”
Roger nodded sullenly and trudged back into the living room, running his hand along the red car’s slick surface.
“You ready?” Paul asked softly, helping her get into her coat.
“Let’s go,” she answered with a smile. They left together as soon as John came in, not seeing the longing look the boy sent after them.
* * *
Where are they? It’s almost eleven, and they are still not here! Did they forget? These thoughts raced through Roger’s head, making him tune out the steady drone of the older man’s tales. When that background noise disappeared, he looked over and was surprised to see John snoring on the couch, fast asleep. And just like that, a plan was formed.
Slipping out into the corridor, he pulled his jacket out of the closet and put it on, laced up his boots, and snuck out the door. He could not reach his warm hat, but managed to wrap the scarf around his neck. Closing the door behind himself, he slipped out into the night.
He knew what pub Paul was talking about because the tenor had once told him about this one place that he and his friends always went to for New Year’s.
As soon as he stepped outside into the cold, however, he shivered and pulled the scarf tighter around himself.
This was by far the coldest night ever, and he knew that he should go back up and wait for them, but he wanted to be with them. What if they really had forgotten? Didn’t see the clock? Decided that maybe it was better to stay and watch the fireworks from wherever it was they were? Roger hoped that they wouldn’t, but would it really hurt to go see if he could catch them at the pub?
Ten minutes later, he stood across the street from the busy pub, music heard even through the closed doors and over the howling wind. Tugging his coat tighter and hunching his shoulders like Paul had only a few hours before, he stepped out into the street.
And in the billowing snow, he did not see the headlights of the car, skidding on the slick road.
* * *
Paul laughed as he opened the door to the house, brushing snow out of Kathryn’s hair and she in turn teased it out of his.
“Thank you for those few hours, Paul,” she said warmly. But then she looked around the silent house and a strange look came onto her face.
“Roger?” she called, almost hesitantly, but was met only with snoring.
Paul was taking off his coat but froze, turning around slowly. His blue eyes were bright from the cold and yet glazed with worry and concern at the same time.
“Roger!” he said loudly, striding into the room.
And then the phone rang. When Kathryn heard the voice on the other side, she dropped it and stepped back, too shocked to be able to respond normally. Paul wrapped his arms around her as the voice on the other side of the phone continued to talk, relaying the news no one wanted to hear.
THE ENDSorry it's so sad, guys, but I did warn you that it would be.
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Post by laurenne on Dec 21, 2010 19:38:09 GMT -5
I do not like that ending, it's too sad.
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Post by celticbear on Dec 21, 2010 22:10:59 GMT -5
ORI! HOW COULD YOU KILL OFF SUCH A SWEET BOY LIKE ROGER! SHAME ON YOU FOR THIS SAD ENDING! I'm not going to say another word! Remember you asked for the truth! So i'm just doing what you asked for!
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Post by orinocoflow on Dec 21, 2010 22:33:12 GMT -5
Sorry you guys, but I did warn you that it was going to be sad.
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Post by orinocoflow on Dec 21, 2010 23:32:33 GMT -5
Hey all, CB mentioned something in the pub and I finally found the way to continue this story, so here we go. You can skip the first chunk until the second break, and then read on from there. Hope you like it, and thank you CB! “Well, every year, a few friends and I get together and go to the local pub, you know? Just hang out, celebrate, bring friends, and then after the clock strikes, well, then we hit the Guinness, but that’s only tomorrow, not before midnight. So, I was wondering if you would like to come with me tonight. Kids are allowed until eleven tonight, so Roger can come as well.” He stopped and watched her closely, blue eyes glowing in the firelight.
“Won’t your friends…I really don’t think I can, not just come and crash your party…”
“Oh, no worries; the guys have been pestering me for years that I never come with anyone,” he laughed.
“Well, in that case, my answer depends on two things. One, what does Roger think of this; and two, did you have that ankle checked out?”
Chuckling, Paul bent to move aside the bootleg, revealing a white bandage.
“According to the doctor, he said that whoever treated it did so very well, and had I listened to their advice and gone straight away to him, I would not be limping right now. Unfortunately, since I let the sprain just go on and actually managed to aggravate it, I now have to wear this dandy white bandage until it heals, which can be up to a week or two later,” he said with a grin. “I should make a note of listening to you more.”
Kathryn smiled at him. “You definitely should. Don’t hurt it any more than you have already, or that ‘aggravated sprain’ may turn into something worse.”
“Well, I passed one test; now go see what Roger thinks of this plan,” he suggested oh-so-casually, masterfully holding back the anticipation he felt for taking her out for the evening. Roger was sure to agree, right? Right? Paul smiled as she went to talk with her son, hoping that Roger would want to. And sure enough, as soon as Kathryn mentioned that Paul had invited the two of them to spend the eve with them, he jumped up, carefully put the cars away in their box, and ran to get his coat and hat.
“I take that as a ‘yes’ then,” Paul laughed when Roger came to stand beside him. Helping Kathryn into her coat, they left for the pub.
* * *
The two of them had a marvelous time. As soon as Paul came in with his arm around her waist casually, the guys had started cheering and laughing, clapping him hard on the back.
“About time, Byrom!” one called out, raising his glass of cider at the two of them. But then Roger slipped inside and stood between them, looking around in amazement at the festive decorations, and the people crowded in the pub fell silent and stared.
There was an uncomfortable silence, but then a man in his fifties at a nearby table broke it with a light laugh.
“Oh, com’on. What, isn’t our young tenor allowed to bring a couple friends? Come here, lad, sit down,” he said, motioning to Roger. “Let’s get you a cider. Paul, care to join me with your beautiful lady?” he chuckled, pulling up two more chairs.
The tenor hung up their coats and then joined them at the table as the conversations gradually slipped back into full mode and the surprise was taken care off. Someone got onto the stage and began to sing a familiar tune, although off-key.
“Hope your holidays have gone well,” said the man to Kathryn. “M’name’s John MacAodhagáin, and I’ve known Paul since he was about as old as this big fella here,” he said with a smile at Roger.
The rest of the night went well, and Paul even managed to pull Kathryn out onto the dance floor a few times. He was surprised by how well she danced, and several times they ended up being the only ones on the floor as everyone else left and let them take it.
Roger spent almost the whole time listening to John tell stories and legends that he knew from reading or from having heard before. Occasionally, he would surface from the tales and look over to the two of them enjoying themselves and wish that they would go home together. He had never seen his mother this happy, and he really liked Paul.
He is nice, funny, and he knew exactly what I wanted for Christmas. He cut down that tree from the same place as Da had before, and Ma liked him, I can tell. There was no one else that she looked at the way she did at him, even though they had met only a little while ago, just a few days. Eventually, he realized that John had stopped talking. Looking over, he turned red when he found the man’s green eyes watching him closely.
“You’re Sean’s son, aren’t you?” he said quietly.
“Y-yes sir,” nodded Roger, curious. “How’d you know?”
“Your eyes. Not too many have those eyes, and your father was one of them.”
“What do you know about my father?” Roger asked eagerly. “Can you tell me anything else about him? When’s he coming back?”
A shadow crossed over the man’s face. “Oh, you poor young fellow. You don’t know, do you?” he murmured under his breath. He looked over at the happy couple out on the dance floor, currently sliding across it in a subtle waltz, and then back at Roger.
“Well, where were we in the stories again?” he asked, clearing his throat.
But as he started to talk again, Roger looked over with new eyes to where Paul and his mother danced, watching how close they were, how her hands were on his shoulders and his around her waist, how they quietly swayed to the melodious music, her head gradually coming to rest on his shoulders as her hands lowered to slide around his waist and she sighed, closing her eyes; Paul laid his chin on top of her head, smiling secretly with closed eyes. How content they seemed, and his mother was so at ease with Paul, something that he hadn’t seen her be like with his father, ever.
What had John meant when he had spoken so low I could only hear a few words? What are they hiding? What happened to Da? As the clock struck eleven beats, the music ended and Paul left the floor with Kathryn. Making their way over to where he sat, they talked quietly between themselves, and Roger almost smiled at the smile on his mother’s face…almost.
“Hate to tell you, but you have to go,” said Paul as he came up, a regretful expression on his face. “Kids can only stay until now, no matter how well they behave.” Nodding, Roger stood up and, thanking John for everything, walked over to the two of them.
“Com’on, lad,” Paul murmured softly, laying a hand on his shoulder. And just like that, Roger relaxed; why he had felt such anger just a minute ago, he had no idea, but that simple gesture told him that he had not been forgotten, that he was still part of the family. Smiling up at the tall tenor, he walked out between the two of them into the night.
“Thank you so much for everything, Paul,” Kathryn said, her eyes shining happily.
“Whoa, whoa, who said anything about this being it?” teased Paul, tugging her over to the side of the empty street. “You think I would let you go away without having watched the fireworks out over the lake?”
Kathryn’s eyes widened as he led them up through the park and over to his car. Helping them in, he drove them up to a tall hill, over-looking everything for miles around…and the lake.
They walked over to a bench near the top facing the lake and sat down, talking in hushed tones until the New Year drew near. Then, he surprised them both again by pulling out three glasses and a small bottle of cider from one of his huge coat pockets.
“May all the evil of the Old Year stay with it,” he murmured as they locked eyes. Roger tilted his head back, smiling when he saw the look on their faces, hoping that this was going where he so wanted it to.
Just as the fireworks hit the sky, announcing the New Year and the bells chimed, Paul said softly, “And now, may the New Year bring better things, hopes fulfilled, and wishes granted. Good luck!” He whispered the last part, his voice almost hoarse. Just before drinking, though, he looked down and smiled at Roger, wrapping his arm around his narrow shoulders and pulling him in closer, his coat warming the boy even more.
This time, Roger lowered his head and leaned on Paul’s arm, drinking the sparkling cider as he felt the two of them lean over him, and he viciously hoped for his wish to come true in this New Year.
* * *
Paul continued to come every now and then for the next few weeks, taking them to lunch, just hang out together, sometimes even walking Roger to school, or driving him on the cold mornings when Kathryn couldn’t make it. All in all, he began to appear a lot more often, occasionally staying for dinner, a few times inviting them for dinner someplace or actually cooking himself. Surprisingly, it was edible and went down well, much to his delight.
One night, Paul was waiting for Kathryn to get Roger in bed while he stood by the window, thinking about all that had happened in the last few weeks.
“So, Paul, I’ve been meaning to ask you this a while ago…but why are you still here? Why do you stay with us?”
He turned at the sound of her voice slowly, sighing as he thought about how to explain it. But how could he? All he knew was that he wanted to stay, that it felt…right, somehow, to do that. He opened his mouth but then closed it again. In the end, all he could do was shrug uncertainly, not sure how to tell her what he was feeling.
She sighed as well, but then took a step forward. “Paul…I hope you do realize that…I don’t know, it’s just that—“
The sound of the phone ringing cut her off, and she looked at it in surprise. With a helpless glance back at Paul, she picked it up.
“Hello?”
“Hey, Kathy! You won’t believe how much I’ve missed your voice!”
Kathryn’s face turned a pale white, and Paul stepped forward to gently lay a hand on her arm, mouthing, Are you alright?
She nodded distantly in response, but then croaked, “Who is this?”
“Aw, com’on, don’t tell me you don’t recognize me! It’s me, Sean!”
At that, Kathryn dropped the phone and stepped away from it as if it were rabid, swallowing hard. Pushing Paul away as he tried to hold her, she turned around and ran from the room blindly, not knowing where she was going, knowing only that it was far and away from that phone.
Paul stared as she left, and then snatched up the phone. “Who is this and what do you want?” he snapped, blue eyes glowing in the dim light from the fire.
There was a pause, and then, “May I ask who this is? And what are you doing at my wife’s house?”
Paul felt all of the blood drain from his face as he realized who he must be talking to.
* * *
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Post by laurenne on Dec 21, 2010 23:54:53 GMT -5
Oh, daddy's back. Roger will be happy. More soon, please.
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Post by celticbear on Dec 22, 2010 0:18:47 GMT -5
Wow Ori! I had no Idea my little comment in the PUB would lead you to this rewrite! It's good! Now what are you going to do with it! End it here or continue on?
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Post by orinocoflow on Dec 22, 2010 19:59:32 GMT -5
continue, of course! you helped me figure out what to do with the other idea i had been playing iwth! okay, warning--i just type stuff up, so the last few updates i posted without having re-read them, so there might be typos and whatnot. He stood there, wondering whether to answer or go follow Kathryn and see if she was alright. Finally, he said a quick “bye” into the phone and hung up. When he did, however, he stood still, turning the news over in his mind.
“Paul? Is everything okay?”
The tenor looked up at the small voice, blinking when he saw Roger standing in the doorway to his room, clutching a black and brown stuffed dog in his right hand. His blue eyes were wide and unblinking, bright with fear. Walking forward, Paul knelt to his level and pulled him in for a tight hug, feeling the boy relax in the embrace. Turning his head, he kissed the rumpled hair and looked at Roger.
“Everything’s fine; just go back to bed, true?” he said softly, giving the boy a light push back inside.
“Will you come by later?”
Paul hesitated, but then nodded. “Go on now, and I promise I’ll come by before you fall asleep, okay?” Roger smiled and quickly jumped in bed.
Closing the door, Paul walked through the house until he came to the balcony. Brushing aside the curtain, he paused; Kathryn was leaning on the railing, her face turned up to the falling snow, a blanket wrapped around her shoulders. She did not look at him as he quietly walked out onto the white planking, his shoes leaving footprints in the fresh snow. Resting his elbows on the railing beside her, he did not say a word, just stood there, waiting for her.
Finally, after a long time, she swallowed and looked at him. “I—I don’t know what to make of that phone call. He’s gone, I know he is, and everyone says the same, but that voice…”
Stepping closer, Paul put his arms around her, and this time, she did not fight him, laying her head on his chest as he held her.
“If it is him…he would call back. But hasn’t it been a long time? Over a year? Why would he just call you instead of coming to see you?” Paul asked, his voice just barely audible even though the snow was silently falling.
Kathryn shook her head, hiding the tears in her eyes in the front of his shirt. “With Sean, I could never know. He would be good to Roger as long as Roger was not complaining or wanting to do something that he didn’t, but if he didn’t understand something or started asking too many questions, Sean would become…” she trailed off, searching for the word. “And he was the same way if something, anything, didn’t go as he wanted it to.”
“Was he violent? Ever?” Paul ground out, his jaw clenched at the very thought of that happening. Having caught his reaction, Kathryn looked up at him in surprise and lay a hand on his arm when she saw his eyes, glowing with fury.
“Paul, don’t go there, please. Sean…just don’t get on his wrong side. Please, if that was really him, Paul, I-I—“ she broke off, choking up and looking away. She just could not make herself meet his bright blue gaze, steady as understanding slowly crept into those eyes of his.
“If you want me to leave, I will, but I will not let him harm either of you, no matter the cost,” he said, his voice low and unwavering, blue fire watching her every reaction.
She looked up at that. “No, Paul, don’t do anything. Please. For Roger’s sake, don’t do anything. He has wanted Sean back more than anything, and I don’t want to hurt him. Please. He’ll understand if you leave, but he wants Sean back.”
Paul took a step back from her, realizing exactly what she was saying. Nodding numbly, he left the balcony without a backwards glance.
“Paul! Don’t take it the wrong way; I don’t even know if that was him or not! Paul!”
The tenor shook his head silently and walked back into the house, a thousand thoughts wrecking havoc to his brain. Automatically taking his coat, he shut the door softly behind himself.
Behind the closed door, a quiet voice whispered, “You didn’t even come to my room like you promised.”
* * *
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Post by CelticPrincess24 on Dec 22, 2010 23:08:46 GMT -5
This is good, I can't wait to read more!
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Post by laurenne on Dec 23, 2010 0:18:39 GMT -5
Poor Roger, feeling left out. Update soon, please.
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Post by celticbear on Dec 23, 2010 0:46:50 GMT -5
ORI! This is getting deep! Can't wait to see how you finish it! UPDATE WHEN YOU CAN!
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Post by orinocoflow on Dec 23, 2010 13:39:31 GMT -5
wrote an update last night but dont like it, so will rewrite it today and we'll see how that goes.
*note to self--NEVER start too many stories and leave them unfinished!!!
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Post by orinocoflow on Dec 24, 2010 13:54:13 GMT -5
sorry its short A pint clanked down in front of him, and Paul dragged his gaze to the glass. Just as he was about to reach for it, though, a warm hand caught his hand and stopped it. “What are ye doing here so late, lad?” John asked softly, his green eyes seeming to read his mind in the ragged face. Shaking his head, Paul reached for the glass with his other hand but instead of drinking, he just held it in front of him, watching the froth swirl at the top as he lost himself in his thoughts. “Was it Sean?” At his name, Paul’s head snapped up and the fire returned to his eyes. “What about him?” he growled. John sat back with a short laugh. “Had a feeling that’s what brought your mood on. Oh, and let go of the poor glass before you shatter it,” he added, nodding at the white-knuckled grip the younger man had on the pint. Gritting his teeth, he forced his hand open and leaned back in his seat, glaring at John. “What about him?” he asked again, his voice more controlled. “He’s back in town, or so the word is on the street. Surprise to all, given what happened a year ago…and there hasn’t been a sound from him until now. What, you having problems with that lovely young lady you brought around a few weeks ago? Her son’s one talkative boy,” he laughed, remembering the seven-year-old. “He’s back in town? When?” Paul pressed, leaning forward in his chair. John eyed him knowingly. “Now, don’t go playing hero, lad. He’s been back in the country a couple days ago, but he just drove into town an hour or so ago—lad, don’t go, Byrom! Get back here! It won't—ah, he’ll get himself in trouble, rushing out like that,” grumbled John, watching the tenor race outside, leaving the pint untouched. * * *
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Post by CelticPrincess24 on Dec 24, 2010 14:08:59 GMT -5
oh no Paul be careful.... great update, I can't wait for more
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Post by laurenne on Dec 24, 2010 16:27:34 GMT -5
Paul better be careful. More soon, please.
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