Good Man

O Time, thou must untangle this, not I.
It is too hard a knot for me t' untie!
- Viola, Shakespeare's 'Twelfth Night'



January 2014

Stage lights were abundant and not a sound could be heard from the audience as two male actors spoke their lines with majestic awe. They paced from spot to spot, their movements as memorized as their lines from hours and hours of blocking. The audience, in their seats were a mix of people both entranced with this comedic work from Shakespeare, or bored out of their mind, unable to grasp all the hath's, thou's and other Elizabethan dialogue.

It was about halfway through of Act Three of 'Twelfth Night' which had been updated in film form years before under the name of She's The Man, starring Amanda Bynes; and had someone told the guy sitting on the left center aisle, he probably would've rented it from the video store to get the gist instead of letting his wife drag him to this play.

Backstage, waiting in the wings, Ramona Wright sat on a crate, watching her fellow castmates, but not really paying attention to them or what they were saying. She was letting her mind wander around in circles and ovals and other random shapes. Here she was, an actress, trying her damnedest to make a name for herself on her own, without her father's help or dropping his name to get parts. Not that it would matter. He was a musician, not an actor; though, he probably had some sort of pull in the overall entertainment industry.

But that's not what she wanted. This had to be all off her doing.

And right now she was thinking over how the daytime soap opera gig never panned out more than a two episode walk-on, and one other commercial for an appliance store chain in the Southern California region. Feeling bummed, she had decided to audition for a local theater company's production of Shakespeare's 'Twelfth Night,' having played one of the main characters, Olivia, an Illyrian countess, in her Junior year of high school. A character she was once again reprising.

She was wondering how long she would be paying her dues to become a more mainstream actress. Would she wind up like Joey from Friends, doing horrible off-off-off-Broadway plays for years, maybe breaking into soaps and being someone's butt double in a movie? Was she to be destined for that type of career? Or would she be one of the lucky ones and get her big break as she was sitting at an outdoor cafe, while a producer like Jerry Bruckheimer walked by and just knew she was perfect for his next summer Blockbuster?

She could only hope. And it didn't make her life any easier that her mother was getting on her case about going back to school so she had something to fall back on while pursuing acting as a hobby. And let us not forget how her dad was trying to offer her money to live off, and also offering to put in a good word with Matthew Fox, who he and Billie Joe knew and was one of the stars from Party of Five and Lost.

Why could parents just let their kids live their own lives and make their own mistakes instead of trying to---

"Ramona," came a whispered voice, hissing her name almost inaudibly.

She turned her head of blonde hair toward the voice of one of the actresses, who was playing Maria, Olivia's waiting-gentlewoman. She was gesturing toward the stage.

"We're on."

Shit.

Ramona looked out onto the stage, which was now empty. Standing up and smoothing out the front of her skirt, she walked out onto the stage from stage right, alongside the other actress, a.k.a., Maria.

"I have sent after him. He says he will come," Ramona began to recite as the stage lights beamed down on her, drowning out the sea of people in the theater into a black abyss, as if they weren't even there, which occasionally helped with the rare bout of stage fright. "How shall I feast him? What bestow of him? For youth is bought more oft than begged or borrowed." Pause. "I speak too loud---"



Back in Buffalo, Caroline was still recovering from the holidays and her ever-increasing belly. At seven months pregnant, she looked more and more like she had swallowed a watermelon, especially as she was carrying two babies instead of one.

She was waddling still, looked tired but seemed to glow at the same time. And in her condition, it was hard to chase after two toddlers, especially being as pregnant as she was, and not to mention on her own. So, she was thankful when her sister Timmy came to visit on weekends traveled seven hours both ways from the Adirondack region to Western New York to help out.

It was evening on a Saturday when Timmy returned to the house with Chloe and a bunch of groceries to find Caroline sitting quietly in the living room with a letter on her lap. Mikey was off in the dining room, laying on his stomach, playing with some toy trucks.

"Care? You okay?" Timmy asked, poking her head into the living room while simultaneously putting the food away in the fridge and in the cupboards.

Caroline looked down and brought a hand to her face, wiping something away before bringing herself to look toward the direction of the kitchen. At the same time Timmy popped her head around the corner again.

"Been better," was her vaguely simple reply.

Timmy frowned, figuring whatever letter her big sister was reading, it was most likely an old letter Mike had written or at some point. And she was just having another one of her random grieving moments. So, Timmy continued putting the groceries away, with Chloe dancing around her feet in a pink tutu and bright, multicolored butterfly wings attached to her back. She was going through a fairy princess phase and Aunt Timmy was much too happy to oblige her niece.

Not to mention it was funny to see the looks of all the other customers at the grocery store when they saw a little -- nearly -- three year old, twirling about the produce department, dressed like a winged ballerina and bopping a homemade, tinfoil wand across a display of bananas.

As Timmy folded up the paper grocery bags and stuck them under the counter, next to the garbage can, to be recycled later on, she almost jumped slightly when she found Caroline standing in the archway to the kitchen. Straightening up, Timmy looked to her sister and raised an eyebrow.

"What's up?"

Caroline hesitated, crinkling the letter in her hands a little bit before slowly handing it to her little sister.

Timmy considered what the contents might be as she took the paper. "Is this a letter Mike wrote you?" she asked as Caroline shook her head. "What--"

She looked down and saw how the letter began, as Caroline replied, "Nope, not Mike. It came today in the mail." Her voice was somewhat dry sounding, faintly raspy; as if she was exhausted and had been talking for hours on end.

Timmy let her blue eyes wander across the words on the page; feeling it was kind of weird to think people still sent handwritten letters anymore and not just emails or telephone calls.

Caroline,

It's taken me a long while to write this, and I don't even know where to begin. It's been too many months since I last saw you. Since any of us saw you with the exception of Dave and Nef. They say you're doing okay back in Buffalo with Mikey and Chloe, which I'm glad to here. And when you left, I wasn't exactly in the state of mind to realize or possibly even care what was going on...with anything.

I lost my wife, my best friend and I was left with a newborn baby who depended on me and I couldn't do it. Not on my own. I can openly and honestly say that I'm not happy Ellis was here to help me, even when I told her I didn't want her around. She's a bit stubborn and it's a good thing she is. I don't know how I would've managed.

But, I wish it had been you instead. Ellis may be Avarielle's aunt, biologically, and currently the only mother figure she has, but you were Giselle's sister, above anyone else. Blood or not. I would've loved it if you were the one helping me with Avarielle. And at the same time, I can't help but wish that I could've just up and left with her as you did with your kids. But, where you needed to apparently cleanse yourself of this place and the people you lost here, I holed myself up.

Last month when I had my birthday (41? Holy shit! When did that happen? Haha), I finally felt a little freer. Is that a word? Freer? Or maybe I should've said 'more free.' Whatever. Either way, I felt like the storm cloud of grief was finally moving and the sun was coming out and I finally knew what it was like for you losing Mike and how coming to terms with it all feels. God damn it still hurts. Like that guy from Greek mythology who was chained to a rock and had a vulture or something peck out his liver every day for the rest of his life. Prometheus, maybe?

So, anywho, what I'm saying is I miss you. We all do. We miss your two munchkins, our kids all miss you and wish you'd call us sometime, write back or even come back for a visit. Or maybe we can visit you. But we won't force you to bridge the gap. When you're ready, come on home.

For now, you know where we live. Our numbers haven't changed. We miss you.

Your friend and brother-in-law till the end,
Tre

Timmy looked up from the letter. Caroline was leaning against the doorframe. She looked pensive.

"What does this mean for you? Are you gonna call Tre back or write him?"

Caroline shook her head. "I can't. I just...what would I say to any of them? 'Yeah, I've moved on with losing Giselle as best as I could. Doing well. I got back in contact with an old friend of mine and, oh yeah! Guess what? I'm pregnant with twins and don't know who the daddy is, and I'm passing it off as Mike's posthumously, with the help of in-vitro!' Yeah, no." Caroline pulled herself up off the door and shook her head again. "I will wait until sometime after the babies are born before deciding what to do next."

Watching her sister stare off in the direction of the fridge, possibly, Timmy folded the letter up and frowned.



A couple of days later, back in California, but in the East Bay, Joey Armstrong stood on a beach just outside of Oakland staring at the water, sunglasses on his face and wearing nothing but a black T-shirt, jeans and sneakers. He had been very withdrawn since the holidays and with good reason.

His girlfriend on the side was pregnant with his baby.

Or so she claimed.

He'd revealed the news to only a couple of his closest male friends who were filling his head with rumors that they had seen Crystal hanging with other guys around the same time she claimed to have gotten pregnant by Joey. His friends told him they had seen her at this club, making out with some guy who might've been Hispanic or Asian. They couldn't tell because it was dark inside. But it was clearly not Joey.

And Joey had known these guys, his friends, since grade school, and trusted them with his life. If they believed Crystal was telling the truth about Joey being the dad, they would've told him that they'd stick by him through this ordeal. But they didn't. They boasted the opposite about her.

Not to mention, Joey was officially dating Nicole still. The poor girl was true to him and he had been messing around on her. She didn't deserve that. She deserved a man who was true to her as well. And true he was going to be. He wanted what his parents had. Together for so long and always faithful.

He could do that. Joey knew he could.

So he would have to cut his losses.



It was no more than an hour later that Joey was at Crystal's apartment, standing in her kitchenette with her. Both silent.

She was biting her lip, her hands shoved in the back pockets of her jeans as she stared at him. Meanwhile, he was staring at the floor, arms folded, trying to avoid her small baby bump, signaling the fact that she was currently three months pregnant and at the end of her first trimester.

"So..." she finally decided to speak up. "What do we do?"

Joey rolled his tongue around a few moments before raising his eyes toward her face. He shrugged. "You can get an abortion, carry it to term and then give it up for adoption, but..."

"But what?"

"That's all I have to say." He looked sternly at her. "I don't believe this baby is mine."

Crystal looked as if she'd just been hit in the face with a frying pan. "What the hell do you mean you don't believe the baby is yours?" she demanded, on the brink of sprouting tears. "Who else's would it be?"

"Not mine."

She blinked several times; disbelieving. "What are you saying, Joey?"

"I'm saying I don't think this baby is mine. I think it's someone else's and you wanna pass it off as mine because you think you can get money out of me. Fucking entrapment or whatever."

Crystal's chin was quivering as the tears began to roll down her cheeks. Her voice nearly didn't come. "I can't believe you would say something like that! You're the only one I've been with in months!"

"Funny, since when we first go together, you were still technically involved with your ex. Or maybe you're still involved." He snickered. "My friends told me they saw you making out with some other guy in some club back around Halloween, the same time you claim you got pregnant. How convenient, huh?"

"Exactly. How convenient of your friends to make up bullshit. Of course you'd believe their lies. They're fucking retards! If they saw anyone making out who looked liked me, which I doubt, it wasn't fucking me! I have only been with you!"

Joey stepped closer to Crystal, a few inches from her face. "If you pursue this -- me as the father of this baby -- I will take you to court and sue your ass off."

"Yeah? On what grounds?"

"You gonna keep the baby?"

Crystal paused. Then, "Yes."

"Okay. I will sue for custody. Full custody. And make sure you can't have any contact whatsoever. Don't think I will? Trust me, my father has contacts you couldn't imagine. I can make it happen."

"That's bullshit. Two minutes ago you were saying this baby can't be yours."

"But you believe it is. That's enough to go on for me." He glowered. "And after I get custody? I'm gonna give the baby away to some deserving couple who can't have kids. Maybe a couple somewhere in Germany or France. Someplace you could never get to it."

"You're a fucking asshole!" she spat.

"And you're a lying whore."

Shoving Joey back with all the force she had, Crystal watched as he stumbled into the counter but maintained his posture.

"Get out," she growled. "Get out, get out, get out!"

"Try me, Crystal. You make any claims or tell anyone I'm your bastard's daddy, you'll have your day in court and you will lose more than just this baby of yours. Believe, you, me."

Turning around on the balls of his feet, Joey sauntered out of Crystal's apartment without looking back, and slamming the door behind him, as Crystal just stared after him.

Looking from the door to the sink, she slowly sank down to the floor and began to shake as she sobbed quietly to herself.