Who: Rebecca Russo and Beau Waites. Where: Rebecca's house. What: Rebecca needs someone to listen, give advice, and help her drink her wine and Beau is the man for the job. When: April 4, 2020, evening-ish?
I know you need somebody Try to act like it's alright, it's alright 'Cause when you need somebody No matter what, you know I, you know I will lift you up For now and forever I will lift you up 'Til you're light as a feather...
Within a month Rebecca’s life went from boringly settled to turmoil. She’d been trying to keep most of it to herself, for her sake, and maybe a little bit for Marc’s too. Even though part of her felt like he’d brought it on himself, there was still hard lost loyalty to him.
But she could only keep everything to herself for so long, and with Marc’s release a few days earlier, Rebecca felt like she was going to crack if she didn’t talk about it with someone. So, she had gathered all the ingredients for her favorite pasta dish and invited Beau over, sans kids, to have a real adult talk.
There were a couple bottles of wine chilling, and pasta sauce simmering on the stove when Rebecca heard the knock at the door. Turning the heat down lower, she padded across her living space to greet Beau at the door.
“Bonjour,” she said, lifting herself on tiptoe to give him a quick hug and a kiss on the cheek. “Thank you for indulging me.” Rebecca ushered him in and closed the door behind him. “I hope you don’t mind, it isn’t anything fancy.”
“Bonjour yourself,” Beau replied, accepting Rebecca’s peck and returning her embrace eagerly. “And are you kidding? I’ve never been a particularly fancy guy and besides, it smells amazing.” He handed her a small box. “The kids were making cookies before I left. Thought you could use some.”
Beau also thought that Rebecca would probably need something a bit stronger that double chocolate chips cookies to say what was on her mind. He knew the general gist of the turmoil she’d been through in the past month or so but something told him she had only shared the tip of the iceberg with him. When Rebecca told Beau that her ex-husband was not only alive, but also that he had been arrested as the Greenbelt firebug and that Beau had actually met him at the doughnut shop as Jack Lewton, Beau couldn’t believe it. It was some sort of bittersweet miracle he couldn’t even begin to fathom so he could only imagine how Rebecca felt. Beau put his hands on her shoulders.
“So, I’m going to ask you how you are but I feel like we should have drinks in our hand while I ask it?”
Rebecca smiled, grateful for the kind of friend that knew precisely how something needed to be approached. “I don’t disagree,” she replied, setting the box of cookies beside the cookie jar that she kept. She’d transfer them later. “Lately I feel like the world is doing its very best to press my shoulders down into the ground,” she added as she pulled two glasses from a cabinet and poured a drink for the both of them handing one across the island to Beau.
“But this softens some of it,” she smiled again, checking the pans on the stove with one glance. They were simmering, and would need to for another ten or fifteen minutes at the very least.
“I don’t know where to begin sorting it out.”
Beau leaned against the counter, took a sip of wine, and appraised his friend for a moment before he replied.
“Let’s start with the facts, first,” he offered. “Those are easy.” As soon as the words left his mouth, Beau cringed. What a dumb thing to say. Nothing about Rebecca’s situation was easy. It’s not everyday that your estranged husband transforms from hero cop to notorious criminal, to say nothing about the whole coming back to life thing. There wasn’t exactly a precedent for his friend to follow or look to; she was flying blind in this strange affair. Beau only hoped that being there for her, and listening, and offering her insight (should she want it) could provide a bit of comfort.
“I’m sorry,” Beau apologized. “I know nothing about this is easy but maybe once you lay out what you know to be true, we can build off of that and we can get as far into the nebulous, messy stuff as you want or need. Okay?”
Thinking it might be easier for Rebecca if he gave her a starting point, Beau continued.
“Right, okay, so. Let’s start at the relative beginning and say that Marc is very much alive, and not at all dead like you previously thought,” Beau started, chewing on his lip. “Did he know you and Josh made it out of Baltimore? Is that why he came to Austin?”
Overwhelmed with appreciation for Beau, Rebecca smiled, and hoped her eyes weren’t as watery as they felt. Crying over simple things had never been her tendency, and she certainly didn’t want to start now.
“No, he didn’t know.” That was easy enough to answer. “I lost my phone in the rush, and he wasn’t with us.” Even though it had been only a few years ago, sometimes it felt like it had been much longer. “I couldn’t get in contact with him, so…” she trailed off with an aborted little shrug.
Beau nodded in understanding. He offered her a small, encouraging smile to continue.
“I had to keep moving, for Joshua’s sake. I think I tried for my sake, too. I needed some kind of closure when it seemed like we’d been separated permanently.” If nothing else, she knew Beau could probably relate to needing to be strong for your children’s sake. “If I’d known there was even the slimmest possibility he hadn’t died, I don’t think I would have gone through the process to declare him that way.” But Baltimore had been such a mess, and so many families had heard that their loved ones were gone. She’d just assumed.
“You did what anyone in your situation would have done,” Beau reassured her. He wasn’t sure if reminding Rebecca of the obvious would negate some of the guilt she was obviously carrying but he tried all the same.
“With how things were at the beginning, it was no wonder you thought Marc was dead. Josh had to be your top priority. Harboring any sort of lingering hope that he had made it out of Baltimore would have been been a liability. I know it’s easy to blame yourself now that he’s made himself known but don’t.” Beau emphasized the last word with a brief touch to her arm, which pulled a small, appreciative look from Rebecca.
“I don’t know Marc but I can’t imagine he’d blame you, either.”
At least, Beau hoped he didn’t. The only things Beau knew about Marc was what he could glean from what Josh said about him, what Rebecca had told him, and what Beau had observed for himself at the Doughnut Hole that day. But, then again, that could have all been a lie, just like the name Jack Lewton. Still, something told Beau there had been more truth to his alias than deception.
“Okay, so, through some sort of crazy coincidence, Marc found his way to Austin,” Beau repeated, getting the story straight. He exhaled, trying to figure out a way to continue with his line of questioning in as delicate a way as he could manage. “But before he found you and Josh, he... well, Rebecca, I’m sorry but I have to ask. Is Marc guilty of the crime he’s been arrested for? Did he and his brother set those fires in the Greenbelt?”
From what Beau could gather from rumors, the APD had a pretty strong case against the Russo brothers. Still, he thought he owed it to Rebecca to give her husband the benefit of the doubt. At least, until she told him otherwise.
“Yes, they did,” Rebecca answered quietly. “From what I know, they were here when things were really bad, then they left, and when they came back they decided to get some kind of revenge, I suppose.” She shrugged a little helplessly, because she didn’t entirely understand the motives behind of the arson.
She sighed, then took a sip from her glass. “That’s what I can’t quite understand,” she continued after a few quiet moments. “Marc, the Marc I married anyway, he wouldn’t have chosen that kind of response.” It only proved how much change could happen in a short time, she thought. “Austin was such a mess before.”
Beau, being a relative newcomer to Austin, hadn’t seen how bad Austin had been but he had heard stories. Considering the rumors, it wasn’t so far fetched to him that a respected cop might turn so bitter as to take his aggressions on the city. Taking into account that Marc wasn’t aware that Rebecca and Josh were alive, Beau could imagine a man who felt like he had nothing to lose and everything to gain by exacting his revenge. It was a strange, sad situation and one that didn’t have an easy or ready solution.
“Grief has a way of changing people,” Beau replied. It wasn’t an excuse by any means but it didn't make it any less a fact. “He doesn’t seem like the Marc you married because he’s not the Marc you married. And you’re not the Rebecca he married now, I bet. If he thought he and Leo were alone, with nothing but their anger to drive them, lighting up the Greenbelt probably seemed like a great idea. Burn all the despair out of himself, and Austin along with it.”
Beau swirled his wine around the glass, taking into account what Rebecca divulged, before continuing.
“So, it’s safe to assume that neither of you are the people you once were. That means you aren’t the same people that you married but it also means you aren’t the same people that fell out of favor with one another. Just forget the arson stuff for a second. Do you still feel that connection? Are you guys going to try and make it work?”
Beau could only imagine what it would be like to have a spouse come back from the dead. Although, for him, it would be a dream come true, whereas for Rebecca, it had turned out to be quite a mixed bag of emotions.
Rebecca shrugged her shoulders. She didn’t know. She couldn’t know. “I’m not sure I can answer that right now,” she admitted out loud. “I think there’s too much nostalgia wrapped up in my emotions when it comes to him.” Was that an excuse? Rebecca wasn’t sure, but like a lot of things lately, she didn’t think she’d have an answer.
“I’m not sure either of us are at a place to explore that, either. He,” she paused, closed her eyes for a moment, “in a lot of ways, he’s a stranger, you said it yourself. He’s not the man I married.” Smiling, just the corners of her mouth tipping upwards, she took another sip of her wine. “I think I’d have to re-learn who he was before I could say whether or not there’s a future.”
She wondered if Marc felt that way too.
“Regardless, I want Joshua to be able to have his father in his life.” As hard as the situation was at present, her son deserved to maintain a relationship with Marc. “I can’t be that mother, no matter how much I want to protect him from all of this.” Rebecca waved a hand in the air to indicate Marc’s arrest, and the fallout from that.
Beau could only imagine how hard it had to be for Rebecca to take a step back and let Josh become reacquainted with his father, especially considering Marc’s most recent run in with the police. It would only too easy for Rebecca to shut Marc out, shun him, write him off as a criminal but she was taking the higher, harder road and Beau thought that was brave as hell.
“You’re Supermom, you know that, right?” Beau’s expression was fond; he was so proud of Rebecca and how well she was taking this whole thing. The compliment made Rebecca go pink. “I know how hard it is for you to stand back and let Josh and Marc get to know one another again, especially after…” Beau made the same, hand waving gesture as Rebecca to indicate Marc’s transgressions. “Plus, it’s not as if there is a blueprint for this sort of situation. You’re playing it smart while being compassionate at the same time and that’s not an easy tightrope to walk. It’s admirable and I admire you for it.”
Beau took a moment to top off Rebecca’s glass of wine before continuing.
“And the thing about not having a blueprint is that there’s no right or wrong way to go, or timeline to follow. So we can sit, eat some pasta, inhale some cookies, drink some more wine and talk about this as much or as little as you want. If it makes you feel better about things, all the better. If not, I am prepared to engage in as many pasta and wine nights as it takes until you do. By the way, what’s the ETA on that sauce?” Beau rubbed his belly.
“You ever see those old cartoons where the food smells so good and wafts under someone’s nose and it lifts them off the ground? That’s me right now.”
Rebecca turned back to the stove, like Beau’s mention of food re-ignited the realization that she was still supposed to be watching something. She stirred it once, twice, then offered a separate, smaller spoon for Beau to try.
“Smells finished to me, but feel free to tell me otherwise,” she told him, not quite laughing, but still amused by the mental image of that old, animated wolf.
Beau took the spoon in his mouth, closed his eyes, and nodded.
“Delicioso,” he hummed, making a circle with his thumb and forefinger to indicate his positive endorsement.
Once there had been some affirmation that it met Beau’s approval, Rebecca made up two plates and passed one across the island to him, settling back down on her chair before she took her first bite.
“We might need to swap to salad, if we keep up with these dinners,” she quipped. “I don’t know how well my waistline will appreciate all these carbs.” Beau knew better than to comment on a woman’s figure but made sure to shoot her a look to indicate he didn’t foresee that being a problem for her. Rebecca smiled across at him. “I haven’t seen Marc since he was released, and I’m sure afterwards I’ll have more to process through.” She had always known how rare it was to have a friend like Beau, but it was through the current situation that she really appreciated it more.
“Well, after you do, you just take out that fancy day planner of yours,” Beau said, gesturing with his fork. “And write me in for another one of these dinners. We’ll get a sitter and I’ll provide all the carbs and wine. I hear both are integral to the whole working things out process.” He nodded with an exaggerated, sagely confidence before tucking into his meal. Beau couldn’t remember the last time he’d enjoyed a pleasant, quiet meal with another adult’s whose company he enjoyed. Even though the reason for their dinner wasn’t exactly optimal, he found he could definitely get used to these sort of grown up endeavors, especially when in such good company. Even though Beau and Rebecca hadn’t come up with a definite game plan for the later’s unprecedented situation yet, the night was still young. Maybe things would look brighter after that second bottle of wine.