Status: Updates every Saturday at 8 PM PST.
The Chronicles of James Pete Smith and Alysia Urie-Ross
Chapter Six: There's A Hole Where Something Was
June 27th, 2011
It had been three or so years since the Smiths had officially adopted Jimmy. It had been two and a half since they'd moved to New Mexico for no apparent reason, taking Jimmy with them. It had been two years since either Pete or Patrick had any contact with the seemingly benign family--and that was the day that Patrick's cell phone rang and showed the caller ID of Donna Smith. He looked at the screen in awe before picking up the phone. "Hello?"
The other line was silent for a while. "Patrick, I've got some bad news." Patrick's heart started racing. Donna continued. "We were driving Jimmy home from school...and we got in a crash. He didn't make it." And his quickening heart froze, his whole body froze, and tears were flowing freely.
"There's nothing we could have done," Donna said, trying to be reassuring. "And it was fast. I promise that he didn't feel a thing."
Patrick didn't care, however. His brain was working far too fast for a quick-and-painless death to make him feel any better. After moments of silence, he hung up... and then proceeded to dial in another number, by instinct.
Pete's.
Pete had been napping when his phone went off. He jumped and groggily picked up, without looking at the caller ID. "Mmm...hello?"
"Pete?" he whispered, trying to hold back his tears long enough to explain what had happened.
"Yeah, hi." He knew that voice, and at this point, he was too tired to protest against it. Court proceedings were going badly for him. He was so sick of fighting for the son he still knew.
"I--could you come over?" Well, now didn't someone sound desperate. But it wasn't that kind of desperation in Patrick's voice. It was something much, much worse.
Pete knew something was wrong. "I'll be over in a second."
"Thanks."
Patrick could barely get himself to the table, but one he was there, he sank into the seat and buried his face in his hands. The sobs returned. This wasn't fucking happening. Not this.
Pete drove over quickly and went to his apartment, pressing the doorbell. He could hear Patrick's crying from outside. And for some reason, he had this sick stomach feeling that something was wrong with Jimmy. After a while of no response, Pete grabbed the key under the mat. He knocked one more time before walking in and seeing Patrick. It was worse than he thought. "What...happened?"
"Jimmy," was the only thing that Patrick could say.
Pete walked over to him slowly, cautiously putting a hand on his shoulder. "What's wrong with him?" he asked, shakily wiping one of Patrick's tears away.
He couldn't even reply to that. It was too horrible--he couldn't even imagine--
"Patrick." He sat beside him. "Please. What's happened?"
"Th-there was a car crash," Patrick answered. "He...h-he didn't make it."
Pete felt his chest just sink to the floor, along with his stomach. "Oh." It started sinking in a bit deeper, and then he was crying his eyes out, too.
They cried into each others' shoulders for a while. It was the closest they'd been since the wedding. Pete didn't care. He hugged Patrick tightly in their tear fest and didn't want to let go, like holding onto him for dear life would bring Jimmy back.
Patrick never wanted to let go. If Jimmy wasn't... if he didn't have Jimmy, at least he could still have Pete. Right? Couldn't this bring them back? Because if there was anything he needed, it was that feeling again.
Pete felt the exact same way. He just needed something to make him forget this hole in his heart. And maybe being back with Patrick could do that.
October 1st, 2012
Ryan knocked on the door, shivering out of self-consciousness. After Brendon had invited him over, he just left. Hell, he was still wearing the loose shirt and sweatpants that he'd fallen asleep in. Thankfully for him, however, Ryan had remember to slide on a pair of flip-flops when he left.
His hair was a mess. He looked exhausted. He was so pale that it looked like he hadn't seen the sun in years.
Brendon opened the door and his face fell when he saw how rough he looked. "Hey," he murmured.
"Bren," Ryan breathed, taking a step forward and sort of collapsing onto Brendon.
Brendon had the breath knocked out of him. "Ry?" he hugged him. "Are you okay?"
"Not in a long time," he answered.
He frowned and pulled him to the table, sitting him down. "Coffee?"
Ryan sat down. "Please."
He nodded and poured him a cup. He fixed it just how Ryan liked it and gave it to him. "There."
He nodded his thanks and stared down at the table. In the clearer light, Brendon could see the hint of stubble on Ryan's face. How unlike him. Brendon sat down with his own cup and sighed. "Ryan...you're getting worse."
"Even I know that, thanks."
Brendon looked down. "You need help. I..." he smiled faintly. "I'll pay for you to get help, if you want."
"Maybe I could stay here," Ryan suggested. "Cost us both less. I missed you."
"Yeah. That works too." He nodded. "Ally misses you, you know."
"Does she?" Ryan smiled, just a little. "I won't be the greatest person to be around for a while, you know..."
"I know. I can deal with that." He smiled a bit. "We just want you to get better."
"I do, too. For once." Ryan smiled a little wider.
"That's good to hear." He was smiling stupidly now. "Really, really good."
Ryan, smiling, stood up. He walked around the table to Brendon and hugged him. Well, it was a hug at first. But then all of the emotions running through his head took control of him and he kissed Brendon. It wasn't much of a kiss, but it was there. And it meant something. And it felt just like it used to, his hands finding Brendon's hips. It all seemed the same. Brendon's hands in Ryan's hair. And the way that it felt. It was as if nothing had changed. And then they heard footsteps.
Ryan looked up, on instinct, though his back was turned from the footsteps. Brendon let go of Ryan and smiled when Ally groggily pulled herself into the kitchen. Then she spotted Ryan and ran to hug him.
Ryan hugged her back, still trembling a little, but smiling wide. "Hey, princess."
"Hi, dad," she whispered, squeezing him. She looked at Brendon. "Daddy. He's okay." And obviously Brendon didn't understand.
July 20th, 2013
"You wanna look for sea glass with me, Ally?" Ryan called, walking to the shore.
She nodded, beaming, and grabbing her bucket. "I'd love to."
He grinned and beckoned to her. "Come on, then." Ryan took off for the water, though not running as fast as he could. He did want his daughter to be able to catch up.
She giggled and ran after him, definitely full of energy. She grabbed his hand and looked at the water. "It's all glittery!"
"Isn't it?" He paused to gaze over the ocean. "I love it here. It's so relaxing and beautiful."
"It's sparkly, though." She poked it and giggled, pulling on his hand. "Look!"
"What?" Ryan looked in the direction Ally was pointing.
"It's all sparkly." she waved her fingers around and made a funny face that made Ryan giggle. "You know what else is sparkly, dad?"
"What is?"
"Fairy dust, unicorn manes, the gold at the end of rainbows..." she trailed off, a huge smile on her face. "Pretty things like that. Do you know why they're sparkly?"
Ryan grinned. "Why is that?"
"Magic!" she grinned, splashing water at him, as if she was a waterbender, or a mage, or something that she had made up in her mind. Her crazy, crazy mind.
Ryan laughed. "And magic is a very beautiful thing. It makes beautiful things happen."
"Like what?" she asked, looking up at him. "Other than the things I mentioned, of course."
He had on his storyteller face. "Like beautiful little girls who bring great fortune to their families."
"And it makes miracles happen." His voice was soft, here.
"Do you have a story?" she asked with her most sophisticated voice and face. "Will you tell me it?"
"I do, actually." Ryan looked off into the sky. He had a vacant smile on his face. "Once, there was a little girl, and her parents couldn't take care of her. Two young men--a very beautiful man and a very foolish man--who were very much in love adopted the little girl."
"What was their names?" She was always concerned about names.
"Were," Ryan corrected. "And their names were Brendon--who was the beautiful one--and Ryan, the foolish one."
She frowned. "You're not foolish. Just weak sometimes." She pulled on his hand. "But finish the story, dad."
He smiled. "They all lived together for a long time. They were very, very happy." He paused. "But one day, Ryan made a mistake." His voice was soft and dark, now.
"What was the mistake?" she asked quietly, almost sadly.
"Oh, there were a lot of mistakes." Ryan was whispering now, an ominous air about his words. "And Brendon knew that he needed help. But Ryan didn't want help. So he left."
She stayed silent, and there was a frown on her face. She finally spoke. "Where did he go?"
"Far away. He ran around for a long time, feeling empty and lonely. He was chasing after what he'd felt with Brendon--but tried to replace just the person." He sounded sad, too. "But he came back." The start of a smile crept toward his face. "He came back for Brendon and his little girl, his little Princess."
She smiled widely. "She was really happy to see him, right?"
Ryan nodded. "She was. And that's why he stayed."
"It wasn't the only reason, though, right? He got happy, and everything got better...right?"
"Yes. He did get better, with the help of Brendon and his princess."
She grabbed both of his hands and pulled on them. "Pick me up." she whispered.
Ryan obliged. "You're almost too old for that, you know." But he smiled.
Ally stuck her tongue out and hugged him around the neck tightly, laying her head on his shoulder. And she caught something out of the corner of her eye. Someone. She beamed. "Uncle Pete! Dad, lemme down, lemme down!" and when her feet hit the ground, she was off, and she tackle-hugged him to the ground. She was getting too big for these things, after all.
"Hey, Ally," he said with a grin.
She giggled and got up, then her face got serious. "Uncle Pete. He's okay."
"What do you mean? Who is?" His face became serious to match hers.
"He is," she said, nodding. "He's okay."
"Who is he?"
She smiled at him. And that was it, before she ran back over to her dad. Pete shook his head. It was hard to tell what Ally meant, ever. But something about that... hit something.
September 30th, 2012
His eyes, hazel like his father's, opened. For a minute, he blankly stared at the ceiling--it was the only information he could process. There was far too much going on in his little head that he nearly forgot to breathe. But when he remembered, that first breath was like a drug. It filled him with beautiful, fresh oxygen. It was his first truly conscious breath in a long, long time. Too long.
Harry and Donna Smith had been sitting at the side of his hospital bed, half-asleep on each others' shoulders, when he awoke. They hadn't wanted to miss that moment. Even if it meant Donna's mother staying at their place to watch their daughter Emma. Even if it meant Harry being at the edge of getting fired from his job. There was something significant to them about the awakening of this young boy from his year-and-half long coma.
He was breathing heavily now, trying to figure everything out. There were a few things he had picked up over the past few... what had they been? Days? Hours? Weeks? He couldn't tell. Time had shortened and lengthened. Who was he? That was one thing he definitely couldn't remember. Something he had picked up was the name "Jimmy"--but who was Jimmy? Was he Jimmy? Was there another person in the room who was named Jimmy? His eyes flicked to the two next to him. And who were they?
They looked at each other before putting on their best worried smiles. It was okay, they had nothing to worry about now. They would never find out. "Hello, Jimmy," Harry said in soft, measured tones. "Good morning."
Alright, so maybe he was Jimmy. It didn't seem like morning. But morning itself felt like such a foreign concept.
"We've been waiting a long time for you," Donna added.
The young boy in the bed was suddenly aware of the tubes and wires hooked up to his arms, his legs, his whole body. He blinked once, twice. Who were these people?
"Who are you?" he managed to ask.
Donna and Harry looked at each other, frowning. Then, they looked back at him. Donna was the one who answered: "Jimmy, honey, we're your parents."
"Who am I?"
They'd been expecting this question, and there was a part of both of them that was glad to hear it. He would never remember them.
"You're our son," Harry answered. "Your name is Jimmy Smith."
And then came the doctors. And with them, the tests. And with those, the medical bills that stacked higher and higher. Every unlocked door uncovered ten new locked ones. And with this mystery came the resentment. No-one loves a freak, after all. And from the resentment sprang rebelliousness. And all the while, he couldn't lose the lie: "Your name is Jimmy Smith."
It had been three or so years since the Smiths had officially adopted Jimmy. It had been two and a half since they'd moved to New Mexico for no apparent reason, taking Jimmy with them. It had been two years since either Pete or Patrick had any contact with the seemingly benign family--and that was the day that Patrick's cell phone rang and showed the caller ID of Donna Smith. He looked at the screen in awe before picking up the phone. "Hello?"
The other line was silent for a while. "Patrick, I've got some bad news." Patrick's heart started racing. Donna continued. "We were driving Jimmy home from school...and we got in a crash. He didn't make it." And his quickening heart froze, his whole body froze, and tears were flowing freely.
"There's nothing we could have done," Donna said, trying to be reassuring. "And it was fast. I promise that he didn't feel a thing."
Patrick didn't care, however. His brain was working far too fast for a quick-and-painless death to make him feel any better. After moments of silence, he hung up... and then proceeded to dial in another number, by instinct.
Pete's.
Pete had been napping when his phone went off. He jumped and groggily picked up, without looking at the caller ID. "Mmm...hello?"
"Pete?" he whispered, trying to hold back his tears long enough to explain what had happened.
"Yeah, hi." He knew that voice, and at this point, he was too tired to protest against it. Court proceedings were going badly for him. He was so sick of fighting for the son he still knew.
"I--could you come over?" Well, now didn't someone sound desperate. But it wasn't that kind of desperation in Patrick's voice. It was something much, much worse.
Pete knew something was wrong. "I'll be over in a second."
"Thanks."
Patrick could barely get himself to the table, but one he was there, he sank into the seat and buried his face in his hands. The sobs returned. This wasn't fucking happening. Not this.
Pete drove over quickly and went to his apartment, pressing the doorbell. He could hear Patrick's crying from outside. And for some reason, he had this sick stomach feeling that something was wrong with Jimmy. After a while of no response, Pete grabbed the key under the mat. He knocked one more time before walking in and seeing Patrick. It was worse than he thought. "What...happened?"
"Jimmy," was the only thing that Patrick could say.
Pete walked over to him slowly, cautiously putting a hand on his shoulder. "What's wrong with him?" he asked, shakily wiping one of Patrick's tears away.
He couldn't even reply to that. It was too horrible--he couldn't even imagine--
"Patrick." He sat beside him. "Please. What's happened?"
"Th-there was a car crash," Patrick answered. "He...h-he didn't make it."
Pete felt his chest just sink to the floor, along with his stomach. "Oh." It started sinking in a bit deeper, and then he was crying his eyes out, too.
They cried into each others' shoulders for a while. It was the closest they'd been since the wedding. Pete didn't care. He hugged Patrick tightly in their tear fest and didn't want to let go, like holding onto him for dear life would bring Jimmy back.
Patrick never wanted to let go. If Jimmy wasn't... if he didn't have Jimmy, at least he could still have Pete. Right? Couldn't this bring them back? Because if there was anything he needed, it was that feeling again.
Pete felt the exact same way. He just needed something to make him forget this hole in his heart. And maybe being back with Patrick could do that.
October 1st, 2012
Ryan knocked on the door, shivering out of self-consciousness. After Brendon had invited him over, he just left. Hell, he was still wearing the loose shirt and sweatpants that he'd fallen asleep in. Thankfully for him, however, Ryan had remember to slide on a pair of flip-flops when he left.
His hair was a mess. He looked exhausted. He was so pale that it looked like he hadn't seen the sun in years.
Brendon opened the door and his face fell when he saw how rough he looked. "Hey," he murmured.
"Bren," Ryan breathed, taking a step forward and sort of collapsing onto Brendon.
Brendon had the breath knocked out of him. "Ry?" he hugged him. "Are you okay?"
"Not in a long time," he answered.
He frowned and pulled him to the table, sitting him down. "Coffee?"
Ryan sat down. "Please."
He nodded and poured him a cup. He fixed it just how Ryan liked it and gave it to him. "There."
He nodded his thanks and stared down at the table. In the clearer light, Brendon could see the hint of stubble on Ryan's face. How unlike him. Brendon sat down with his own cup and sighed. "Ryan...you're getting worse."
"Even I know that, thanks."
Brendon looked down. "You need help. I..." he smiled faintly. "I'll pay for you to get help, if you want."
"Maybe I could stay here," Ryan suggested. "Cost us both less. I missed you."
"Yeah. That works too." He nodded. "Ally misses you, you know."
"Does she?" Ryan smiled, just a little. "I won't be the greatest person to be around for a while, you know..."
"I know. I can deal with that." He smiled a bit. "We just want you to get better."
"I do, too. For once." Ryan smiled a little wider.
"That's good to hear." He was smiling stupidly now. "Really, really good."
Ryan, smiling, stood up. He walked around the table to Brendon and hugged him. Well, it was a hug at first. But then all of the emotions running through his head took control of him and he kissed Brendon. It wasn't much of a kiss, but it was there. And it meant something. And it felt just like it used to, his hands finding Brendon's hips. It all seemed the same. Brendon's hands in Ryan's hair. And the way that it felt. It was as if nothing had changed. And then they heard footsteps.
Ryan looked up, on instinct, though his back was turned from the footsteps. Brendon let go of Ryan and smiled when Ally groggily pulled herself into the kitchen. Then she spotted Ryan and ran to hug him.
Ryan hugged her back, still trembling a little, but smiling wide. "Hey, princess."
"Hi, dad," she whispered, squeezing him. She looked at Brendon. "Daddy. He's okay." And obviously Brendon didn't understand.
July 20th, 2013
"You wanna look for sea glass with me, Ally?" Ryan called, walking to the shore.
She nodded, beaming, and grabbing her bucket. "I'd love to."
He grinned and beckoned to her. "Come on, then." Ryan took off for the water, though not running as fast as he could. He did want his daughter to be able to catch up.
She giggled and ran after him, definitely full of energy. She grabbed his hand and looked at the water. "It's all glittery!"
"Isn't it?" He paused to gaze over the ocean. "I love it here. It's so relaxing and beautiful."
"It's sparkly, though." She poked it and giggled, pulling on his hand. "Look!"
"What?" Ryan looked in the direction Ally was pointing.
"It's all sparkly." she waved her fingers around and made a funny face that made Ryan giggle. "You know what else is sparkly, dad?"
"What is?"
"Fairy dust, unicorn manes, the gold at the end of rainbows..." she trailed off, a huge smile on her face. "Pretty things like that. Do you know why they're sparkly?"
Ryan grinned. "Why is that?"
"Magic!" she grinned, splashing water at him, as if she was a waterbender, or a mage, or something that she had made up in her mind. Her crazy, crazy mind.
Ryan laughed. "And magic is a very beautiful thing. It makes beautiful things happen."
"Like what?" she asked, looking up at him. "Other than the things I mentioned, of course."
He had on his storyteller face. "Like beautiful little girls who bring great fortune to their families."
"And it makes miracles happen." His voice was soft, here.
"Do you have a story?" she asked with her most sophisticated voice and face. "Will you tell me it?"
"I do, actually." Ryan looked off into the sky. He had a vacant smile on his face. "Once, there was a little girl, and her parents couldn't take care of her. Two young men--a very beautiful man and a very foolish man--who were very much in love adopted the little girl."
"What was their names?" She was always concerned about names.
"Were," Ryan corrected. "And their names were Brendon--who was the beautiful one--and Ryan, the foolish one."
She frowned. "You're not foolish. Just weak sometimes." She pulled on his hand. "But finish the story, dad."
He smiled. "They all lived together for a long time. They were very, very happy." He paused. "But one day, Ryan made a mistake." His voice was soft and dark, now.
"What was the mistake?" she asked quietly, almost sadly.
"Oh, there were a lot of mistakes." Ryan was whispering now, an ominous air about his words. "And Brendon knew that he needed help. But Ryan didn't want help. So he left."
She stayed silent, and there was a frown on her face. She finally spoke. "Where did he go?"
"Far away. He ran around for a long time, feeling empty and lonely. He was chasing after what he'd felt with Brendon--but tried to replace just the person." He sounded sad, too. "But he came back." The start of a smile crept toward his face. "He came back for Brendon and his little girl, his little Princess."
She smiled widely. "She was really happy to see him, right?"
Ryan nodded. "She was. And that's why he stayed."
"It wasn't the only reason, though, right? He got happy, and everything got better...right?"
"Yes. He did get better, with the help of Brendon and his princess."
She grabbed both of his hands and pulled on them. "Pick me up." she whispered.
Ryan obliged. "You're almost too old for that, you know." But he smiled.
Ally stuck her tongue out and hugged him around the neck tightly, laying her head on his shoulder. And she caught something out of the corner of her eye. Someone. She beamed. "Uncle Pete! Dad, lemme down, lemme down!" and when her feet hit the ground, she was off, and she tackle-hugged him to the ground. She was getting too big for these things, after all.
"Hey, Ally," he said with a grin.
She giggled and got up, then her face got serious. "Uncle Pete. He's okay."
"What do you mean? Who is?" His face became serious to match hers.
"He is," she said, nodding. "He's okay."
"Who is he?"
She smiled at him. And that was it, before she ran back over to her dad. Pete shook his head. It was hard to tell what Ally meant, ever. But something about that... hit something.
September 30th, 2012
His eyes, hazel like his father's, opened. For a minute, he blankly stared at the ceiling--it was the only information he could process. There was far too much going on in his little head that he nearly forgot to breathe. But when he remembered, that first breath was like a drug. It filled him with beautiful, fresh oxygen. It was his first truly conscious breath in a long, long time. Too long.
Harry and Donna Smith had been sitting at the side of his hospital bed, half-asleep on each others' shoulders, when he awoke. They hadn't wanted to miss that moment. Even if it meant Donna's mother staying at their place to watch their daughter Emma. Even if it meant Harry being at the edge of getting fired from his job. There was something significant to them about the awakening of this young boy from his year-and-half long coma.
He was breathing heavily now, trying to figure everything out. There were a few things he had picked up over the past few... what had they been? Days? Hours? Weeks? He couldn't tell. Time had shortened and lengthened. Who was he? That was one thing he definitely couldn't remember. Something he had picked up was the name "Jimmy"--but who was Jimmy? Was he Jimmy? Was there another person in the room who was named Jimmy? His eyes flicked to the two next to him. And who were they?
They looked at each other before putting on their best worried smiles. It was okay, they had nothing to worry about now. They would never find out. "Hello, Jimmy," Harry said in soft, measured tones. "Good morning."
Alright, so maybe he was Jimmy. It didn't seem like morning. But morning itself felt like such a foreign concept.
"We've been waiting a long time for you," Donna added.
The young boy in the bed was suddenly aware of the tubes and wires hooked up to his arms, his legs, his whole body. He blinked once, twice. Who were these people?
"Who are you?" he managed to ask.
Donna and Harry looked at each other, frowning. Then, they looked back at him. Donna was the one who answered: "Jimmy, honey, we're your parents."
"Who am I?"
They'd been expecting this question, and there was a part of both of them that was glad to hear it. He would never remember them.
"You're our son," Harry answered. "Your name is Jimmy Smith."
And then came the doctors. And with them, the tests. And with those, the medical bills that stacked higher and higher. Every unlocked door uncovered ten new locked ones. And with this mystery came the resentment. No-one loves a freak, after all. And from the resentment sprang rebelliousness. And all the while, he couldn't lose the lie: "Your name is Jimmy Smith."
♠ ♠ ♠
This never happened.My creys.