The Brink of Destruction

The afternoon had been peaceful, and the baby had slept for several hours. I napped too, on the sofa beside his cradle, remembering the advice of the nurses--"Sleep when he does, don't worry about the chores!" Finally I woke to hear him making little burbling sounds, not really cries, just requests for my attention.

Bending over the cradle, I smiled down at his beautiful face, and lifted him to my shoulder. His mouth was open like a little goldfish, and his head bobbed from side to side as he searched hungrily for his dinner. I sank contentedly into the rocking chair, opening my blouse to let him feed as I stroked his cheek and counted his fingers for the tenth time.

His grip on my finger was tight, as if he were reassuring me that we'd make it just fine as long as we had each other. The rocker creaked softly in the quiet of the house, and I felt the love for him sweep over me like liquid warmth. Finally, as his belly filled, his head lolled back, and he drifted into sleep once again, never stirring as I changed him and wrapped him snugly in his blanket.

A sharp knock on the door startled me as I was making a salad for dinner, and I answered it cautiously, the knife still in my hand. I had a keen awareness of being alone in the house, and looked out the window first to see who it might be.

Parked at the curb was a very familiar blue Ford.

Hands shaking as I turned the deadbolt latch, I opened the door to see him standing there, holding a plastic bag and two sodas. His expression was calm, almost humble, and he broke into a smile when he saw me.

"I brought you dinner from Bat's," he mumbled, holding out the items in his hands. "You don't have to invite me in, but I wanted to make sure you had something to eat tonight."

My hand flew to cover my trembling lip, and I gasped at the relief of seeing him again.

"No, come in, please," I said, and took the bag from him to set it in the kitchen. When I returned, he was still standing, looking around the entranceway curiously.

"Not a bad place," he mused, leaning over to examine the pictures my housemates had hung on the wall over the table. "Looks like a nice bunch of people."

"Yeah, they're okay," I said, and cursed the shakiness in my voice. "They're at the beach this week, so I can't introduce you. But I think you might like them."

"Yeah, that's--that's cool." He fidgeted nervously with the keys in his pocket, clearly wanting to say something else but unsure how to begin.

"Billie, would you like to see the baby?" I asked, hoping to make it easier for him. His eyes brightened immediately, and his eager nod made me sure I'd read him right.

"Is he asleep?" he asked, voice dropping to a whisper.

I held out my hand, and breathed a sigh of relief when he took it without hesitation. Leading him into the living room, I noticed a tiny fist jerkily poking out from the blankets. "Not anymore," I smiled back at him.

Billie's eyes were wide with wonder, and he looked back and forth between the baby and me, as if to ask permission. I lifted him out of the cradle, and pulled back the blanket so his father could see his face for the first time.

It was a moment I'll never forget, as long as I live, watching Billie as he gazed into his son's eyes. For a long moment, he just stared in amazement, trying to drink in every detail. Finally, he glanced over at me, lifting his hand as if to touch the delicate little fingers. "Is it okay?" he asked.

"Here," I said softly, "sit down and you can hold him." The panic that crossed his face was almost comical, and I couldn't help laughing. "It's okay, you won't drop him. Go ahead--it's fine!"

He sat nervously on the edge of the couch, and I bent toward him, laying the baby's head in the crook of his elbow. I took his other hand, and guided it under the back, and he sat transfixed, looking into the serene blue eyes.

"Hi, little guy," he whispered, and the baby cooed softly back to him. "He's a good looking boy," he said proudly. "You did good, Gen."

"No, we did good. You and me."

He was still looking down at his son, his strong hands holding the tiny body, so safe and secure. "I want you to know that I--I'm sorry for what I said to you yesterday. And I'm sorry for leaving. I should have been there this morning to bring you home."

"Don't apologize, Billie. I needed to hear it. It's me who needs to apologize, but I don't think there are enough words." I hesitated for a moment, then laid a hand on his shoulder. He didn't pull away.

"I want this, Gen," he said, barely loud enough for me to hear. "I need us to be together, more than anything else in the world. And if you do, too, then none of that stuff matters, it's over and done. All you have to do is say the word."

It took my breath away, how easy it had come. The words had been so hard, so harsh yesterday, and now it was as if everything had blown away in the summer breeze, and he was back, and he was here, and he wanted us.

His eyes were burning into me now, searching for the answer, and time stopped in its tracks. It seemed too wonderful to be true, that we might be able to pick up these shattered pieces of our love and make a new life out of them.

"Can you forgive me?" was all I could say. It was what I needed from him most of all.

"Genny, you were forgiven before I even knew where you'd gone. There's nothing you could do that would make me give up on us. Just as long as you don't give up, either."

Carefully, making sure I didn't jostle the precious bundle in his arms, I pulled him to me, and kissed the side of his neck, over and over, running my fingers through his tousled hair. I was half-starved for the touch of him, for the sound of his voice, the scent of his hair.

"Never, Billie. I swear to you, I'll never give up on us." I crooned it into his ear, caressing his back.

"Then I just have one question," he said, his face serious. "Where the fuck is your ring?"

The laughter that bubbled out of me was the sweetest thing I had felt in months.

He wouldn't let me stay in the house that night. He helped me gather up some clothes and things for the baby, and packed them into the cavernous trunk of his car. Mike had left the car seat with me, and so the three of us headed off to the house that Billie and Mike had moved into just after New Year's Day.

It was strange to see the house again. The last time I'd been here--in fact, the only time--was the day that Bat had died. But when I opened the door, I was surprised to see that it had been redone, with new paint and furniture. Nothing fancy, but more their style. Everything was neat and clean, and it made me proud that they had somewhere like this to call home, instead of the basement.

Billie carried the baby inside, and motioned for me to follow him down the hall. Mike had taken the first guest bedroom, and his bass stood proudly beside the pristine new amp they'd finally been able to afford. Billie had taken Bat's old room, and I stifled a grin when I saw the same old box springs and mattress, with the black and grey cover, sitting on the floor.

"We're still working on the furniture," he apologized. "But it's comfortable, so I decided, what the hell?"

The door on the left was closed, and he inclined his head toward it. "Go ahead, open it," he said, with a mischievous grin.

The carpet was a pale seafoam color, and bore the square impressions where, until this morning, boxes of spare belongings had sat in storage. Now, however, there was a sturdy white crib, a changing table with a dresser underneath, and a rocking chair to match, sitting in a patch of fading sunlight by the window. Over the crib, a mobile with stuffed fabric cars dangled merrily, and spread neatly over the mattress was a brightly colored comforter with the characters from the Disney movie "Cars."

"There's kind of a theme, here, I guess you noticed," he said, and the pride in his eyes was unmistakable. "I have to get him trained early so he can help me work on Priscilla. She'll really need help by the time he gets big enough to handle a torque wrench."

"Billie, this is--"

"This is my son." He said it flatly, and there was no argument. "And I'm going to take care of him, and of you. You're going to finish school, and he's going to have a father. And that's the end of that conversation." His voice had deepened, and there was no arguing with him.

"Billie, if we're going to do this, if we're starting over, then I have to ask you something. Did you set up the scholarship for me? We might as well have all our cards on the table now, no more secrets."

"Damn!" he said, shaking his head. "Dirnt can't keep his big mouth shut, can he? Listen, I don't want you to worry about that. I won't have you quitting. You're meant for something special, Gen, and I mean to see that you get there."

"And what about you? If you let your talent go to waste, I'll never be able to forgive you."

"There's nothing that could hold me back now. I've got you and this guy here to inspire me. And we'll figure out all the details as we go, but both of us deserve our dreams. And I swear to you, we will get there. Like I told you, it's you and me, Bonnie, and that's all we need."

*****************

Sleep hadn't come easily for so long, but nestled against his chest, his arms wrapped tight around me once again, I fell into a pure and dreamless slumber that felt like heaven. I expected to be on a hair trigger, listening for the first hint of a cry, but the exhaustion and the sweetness of his closeness was too powerful to resist.

It had been a long time since I'd been able to turn over in bed, too. Stretching my ribs luxuriously, I rolled onto my belly, now strangely flat, and tucked one arm under the pillow. The other reached unconsciously toward Billie's side of the bed, and when my hand found only empty air, the half-dream state vanished in an instant.

I sat up, looking around to see if he had gone to the bathroom, but the light wasn't on. A cold knot of fear began to uncurl in my stomach, and I sat up slowly, folding back the blankets.
It sounded as if there was a radio on somewhere in the house. Padding across the carpet, I followed the sound to the nursery, and pushed open the door.

Billie stood beside the crib, holding the baby in the hammock of his tattooed forearms, the tiny head cradled in his hands. From side to side he swung gently, rocking his little boy. And as he rocked, he sang softly, crooning in his velvet voice.

"Little darling,
It's been a long, cold, lonely winter.
Little darling,
It seems like years since it's been here.
Here comes the sun, doot'n do do,
Here comes the sun, and I say,
It's alright..."

And Bartholomew Joseph (BJ, for short), looked into his father's emerald eyes, and smiled.

***The End***