Owen Rook (drowningman) wrote in light_of_may, @ 2010-03-22 10:42:00 |
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Entry tags: | #solo, 2009-07-07 |
There’s someone I’ve been missing
Who: Owen and several Rook family NPCs
Where: His parents and then his house
What: Talking
When: Evening
After the movies, he'd driven straight to his parents, Edward napping a little in the car. Owen watched his son run around the back yard, pretending he was dinosaur, roaring at squirrels and birds as he chased them. As much as he wanted to enjoy the sight of his son having so much fun and play with him, the elemental had a lot more on his mind. "Honestly, Mom, I had no idea I'd would ever see her here." He turned and looked at her as she handed him a glass of lemonade. His tone was wistful and he was so confused. What was he supposed to think? To say to the woman he'd loved since college?
"Well, you know your father and I would love to watch him for you tomorrow. You never have to ask. But what you need to think about is what you want for yourself and what's best for that angel of yours. What you want to happen tomorrow." Amelia looked fondly at her only son. She and her husband had loved Marisa like she was their own daughter, happy that their son had found a wonderful woman to call his own. And when they thought she'd died, they were just as devastated as Owen was. A year ago, when Owen came home a mess, telling him that he'd found her, Amelia hoped that one day they would reconcile. That little boy needed his mother as much as Owen needed his wife again. He needed that balance in his life, that kind of love. And she could tell her son still deeply loved the woman he'd married. Personally, she believed they could work out their difficulties.
He shook his head. "I have no idea. We should talk. That's all I really know." He'd never told his mother that he'd actually physically harmed his wife when he'd found her a year ago. So many things had gone wrong then. Owen should have been thrilled that his wife was alive, not drowning the only way he could, in a bottle. He'd been an idiot then. Seeing her now, seeing her hold their son, it melted so much of what he'd been holding on to, so much of the betrayal, the abandonment. They still had so much to talk about but he needed to talk to her, to be with her.
A short while later, he collected his sleepy son after his mother fed him and headed home. Edward tucked into bed, Owen spent his time in the kitchen, making sure he had everything he'd need for dinner. Steak. Potatoes. Corn he'd bought the day before. What he needed was the get things for banana cream pie. It was her favorite. Or at least, he hoped it still was. And it was in the kitchen, making a list that Edward found him. Hudson sat at his feet, listening to him mutter softly about what he was going to do. "You'll make the right decision when it comes to it, Owen. You always have." Always the voice of reason.
"Daddy?" came a sleepy little voice. Owen turned and saw Edward standing the doorway in his pjs, holding a picture frame. "I couldn't seep." He moved to his father's side and held up the frame. "Daddy? Why is tha nice lady kissing you in dis picture." He was holding the picture that Owen kept in his room. Oh, God, why did he have to ask tonight? When he didn't have any answers.
He helped his son up on to his lap. "The nice lady's name is Marisa. She and Daddy knew each other a really long time ago, when Daddy lived in Boston." Rubbing his son's back, he rocked him a little and told him of a time when he had heard her sing and how much he had loved to watch her in the kitchen, how she seemed to sway with every movement. As good as any bed time story, Edward drifted off, still clutching the picture.
"You will have to tell him," the dog pipped up from the floor.
"I know. After I talk to her tomorrow." He carried his son back upstairs and lay him in bed, the picture going onto his son's nightstand. "Sleep well, bud," he whispered as he kissed his forehead, tucking him in, hoping for all the world that his dreams would be good ones.