She patted her rounded stomach when the baby gave her a kick. "I'm going to enroll you in Tae Kwon Do classes as soon as you're old enough," she laughed. When everything was in place, she tiredly slumped in one of the chairs in the living room. She was now nearly eight months pregnant, and she had gained a lot of weight. It took extra effort to do most anything lately. Plus, she was still riding the hormonal roller coaster, up one minute, down the next.
If she didn't know better, she would have sworn that Sly was having sympathy mood swings. He was just as hard to predict as she was. Emily wasn't sure what Sly would be bringing home after work- arms full of flowers or a bucketful of rain. At least there was a comforting ritual to their home life: fight, make up, fight, make up, and exhausted sleep.
Emily knew that there was water boiling on the stove, a big pot to get ready for the spaghetti that she was going to prepare. She had French bread covered in butter and garlic on a baking sheet, ready to be put in the oven. She had opened a jar of sauce and emptied it into a frying pan, and it was ready to warm up. Yes, everything was now set for the first official dinner party that Emily had ever thrown. It made her feel good, grown-up. Emily Eckert, supreme hostess.
Just then, Sly opened the front door and blew into the room. He tossed his jacket onto the couch, and dumped his keys onto the coffee table.
"Hey, pick that up," Emily said. "I spent all day cleaning the apartment."
Sly sighed and complied, putting his coat on a rack, and hung his keys with several pairs of other ones on the wall. "Did I ever tell you how much I hate my job?" he asked.
"I don't know. I've heard it just about every day, for starters," she joked.
"I hate that place! If I were your grandfather, I would sell it immediately, because no one knows what the hell they're doing!" He paced as he ran his hands through his hair. "Everyone wants their parts, and they want them yesterday. 'Eckert, get me this.' 'What the hell is wrong with you, Eckert? I was supposed to have that two days ago!' I don't know how much more I can take!" Sly yelled, frazzled.
He glanced over at the decorated kitchen table and a sinking feeling washed over him. "Ok, I know I've forgotten something, but I don't know what it is," Sly said, hoping Emily wouldn't yell at him.
"I invited Lucky and Liz over for dinner, remember?" Emily said.
"Oh, yeah," Sly said. He sure wasn't in the mood for company, but he certainly couldn't make Emily cancel. He stared down at his steel-toed work boots, overwhelmed all of a sudden.
"Look, why don't you go take a shower? It will help you relax. Then you can help me with dinner," Emily said.
"Ok," Sly said, and the look on his face reminded Emily of a confused little boy, so she gave him a hug. "You'll feel better," she said.
*-*-*-*-*-*
The hot water beat down on Sly's body as he leaned against the shower wall. Each day after work, he found himself more and more exhausted. It was physically demanding, but it was also emotionally draining. Sly didn't adjust well to the frantic pace of shipping and receiving, and his boss rode him hard because of it. The constant insults and put-downs were undermining his confidence.
Then life at home was tense at best. It seemed like all he ever did was get on Emily's nerves or make her upset. Sly was at a loss as to why. That's not to say there weren't happy moments, times when everything felt ok. It just seemed like there were more lows than highs.
As he picked up the soap and began scrubbing himself, Sly tried to hang onto a vague melody in his mind. He hadn't been able to write a song in weeks, and it was intensely frustrating. When he got a free moment, he tried to practice with his band, but it never went very well, and he could tell that the guys were getting restless.
He tried humming to himself as he showered. He gripped the soap too hard and it slipped right out of his fingers. Sly shook his head and bent over to pick it up. As he leaned down, he managed to slip even on the supposed non-slip shower mat, and he stumbled; he banged his left shoulder hard into the shower knob.
Sly winced as he picked himself up. He was such a klutz- he always ended up hurting himself one way or another. He gingerly rubbed his throbbing shoulder.
Suddenly, Sly had a flash of his father coaching his Pop Warner football team. Whenever Sly would take a bad hit, Bill would tell him, "Be a man and get back out there. Play through the pain." Sly could tell that Bill knew about pain, even though he never talked about it. Sly would always take a deep breath and run back on the field.
Sly let the water run over his head. Be strong, Sly, he thought. Put on your game face; perfect husband, happy father-to-be. He tried to smile, but it felt so fake, so phony. God, what is wrong with me? He shook his head and sighed as he watched the soap bubbles swirling down the drain.
*-*-*-*-*-*
Lucky and Elizabeth walked down Sly and Emily's street. Large sycamore trees shaded the sidewalk. Elizabeth carried a peach pie from Kelly's. "Why don't we slow down a little?" Elizabeth questioned.
"Are you tired?" Lucky asked.
Elizabeth smiled. "I'm fine. I just wanted to enjoy this moment."
Lucky smiled at her in return. "Do you know I used to dream about this? Just to be outside, taking a walk with you."
Elizabeth nodded. "I used to wish that I could see you just one more time. Just once," she whispered, a little choked up.
Lucky wrapped his arm around her waist. "Hey, I'm here now."
"I know," she nodded. "Sometimes it just hits me."
Lucky sighed. "We lost a lot of time," he said, his eyes briefly clouding over.
"We're together now, that's all that matters," Elizabeth said, hoping she hadn't upset him. Lucky had revealed more and more about his time in captivity, and the time after he returned home when they were apart. It was never easy for Lucky to tell it, or for Elizabeth to hear it. Sometimes it was just too much for the both of them, so they sat together, listening to the silence.
"You're right," Lucky said. "Can you believe we're going to dinner at Emily and Sly's apartment?" he asked, changing the subject.
"I still can't believe that they're married," Elizabeth said.
"And the baby's due in a few weeks," Lucky said. He took a deep breath. "I'm worried about them," he said quietly.
"Why?"
Lucky shrugged his shoulders. "I just get this feeling from them. I'm not sure that this is as easy as they thought it would be."
"It's certainly not an ideal situation," Elizabeth agreed. "I'm not sure Emily dreamed about being a teenaged mother."
They soon reached the small apartment building where Sly and Emily lived. "Maybe I'm worried for nothing, but I'm going to keep an eye on my cousin tonight," Lucky said as he held open the door to the lobby.
"I'm sure it will be ok," Elizabeth said as she entered. "Tonight will be fun."
*-*-*-*-*-*
"It's nice to have a big Italian dinner again, just like Grandma Angela used to make," Sly said as he put the spaghetti in a large bowl.
"I don't know how authentic it is. I'm not Italian," Emily said from her place at the table.
"I'm sorry, principessa. I guess we all can't share that privilege," Sly said as he put the dish on the table and kissed Emily on the head.
"It's family style, help yourselves," Emily said while smiling at Sly. The shower had helped, she supposed, because he seemed a lot calmer.
"I really like what you've done with the apartment," Elizabeth said before she took a sip of water.
"Thanks. We managed to throw everything together rather quickly," Emily said as she took a piece of bread.
"We like things fast," Sly said with a wink.
Lucky rolled his eyes as he helped himself to the pasta. "How's work, Sly?" he asked conversationally.
"Don't get him started," Emily muttered.
"I'm capable of talking about my job, Emily," Sly said with an annoyed tinge to his voice.
"No, you're not. You'll start ranting and raving eventually," Emily said her tone matching his.
"Lucky has a job!" Elizabeth interjected in an effort to diffuse an argument.
Sly turned to Lucky. "Really? Where?"
Lucky swallowed a mouthful of pasta quickly. "Uh, Bobbie has a friend who runs a temp agency. Their computer system was seriously outdated, so I'm responsible to bring it into the 21st century."
Sly nodded. "That's great, Lucky. You were always technically inclined."
Everyone continued eating in silence for a few minutes. Lucky noticed that Sly wasn't really eating; he was mostly pushing the food around his plate.
Sly blinked a few times. He was so tired. It was hard to concentrate on anything lately because of the lack of sleep. He had become an insomniac of late, and was intimately familiar with World News Now and all-request overnights on the local country station.
Emily munched on a piece of bread thoughtfully. It was nice for the four of them to be together, but this time it was different. They weren't hanging around Kelly's. They were having dinner at the home of Mr. and Mrs. Eckert. Emily did her best to appear grown-up and confident, but inside she felt like she was a little girl playing dress-up-shuffling around in her mother's pumps, which never quite fit.
*-*-*-*-*-*
Sly put the coffee pot on the gray trivet, then spooned a scoop of sugar into his mug.
Elizabeth poked at her piece of pie. "So, have you thought of baby names yet?"
Emily chuckled. "We have a few in mind."
"I like Austin," Sly said as he stirred his coffee.
"I prefer Samuel for a boy or Rachel for a girl," Emily said, rubbing her stomach.
"I think I'd like to name a daughter Ruby," Lucky said quietly.
The group of young people collectively smiled at the thought.
"So you're not definite about any of them?" Elizabeth asked after the pause.
"We figure once the baby's born, we'll know," Emily said, putting down her fork. She surveyed the table. "Why don't we clean this up and then we can move into the living room?"
"Good idea," Sly said, then he sipped up the last of his coffee. He picked up the coffee pot, still half-full.
"I hope you haven't done too much heavy housework in your condition," Lucky said to Emily as he gathered up the plates.
Emily laughed. "Why don't guys understand this? I'm pregnant, not ill." She picked up the remainder of the pie. "Besides, Sly has been helping me out."
Elizabeth smiled. "So, Sly, has she had you scrubbing the floors yet?"
Sly stopped abruptly next to the kitchen counter. His hand shook the coffee pot as a memory assaulted him.
*-*-*-*-*-*
The wooden-handled scrub brush moved rapidly back and forth. Sly tried to remove the dark stain from the yellow linoleum, but he was unsuccessful so far. He immersed the brush in the bucket full of hot, soapy water and tried again.
He heard the screen door creak open, then slam. It only meant one thing- his grandfather was home. Sly frantically scrubbed harder, his job only about a quarter done. The rest of the kitchen floor awaited immersion in the imitation Pine Sol.
"Sly?" His deep voice rumbled through the house like thunder from an impending storm. Sly felt himself tense up involuntarily. He kept scrubbing until he saw the worn brown loafers that his grandfather always wore.
He looked up at his faded blue jeans, and past his large midsection. His grandfather's deep-set dark brown eyes glared at him from around his bulbous red nose. Sly thought that it seemed like this was always how it ended up, his grandfather towering over him, and Sly in a prone position, down on his knees.
"I give you one job to do, and you can't even finish it!" his grandfather exclaimed.
"I, I would have done it sooner, but I have an important paper due tomorrow, so I started on the floor late," Sly said, averting his eyes.
His grandfather paced a bit. "I grew up on a farm, Sylvester, and I had about five hours of chores to do every night, and all of my schoolwork. Do you think I slacked off even for one second? No, I did everything I was told, or I would have to face the consequences from my father," he said, stooping to get a better look at the floor.
"I'm trying, Grandpa, really," Sly said, his voice cracking with embarrassment.
His grandfather scowled at the display of emotion. "Now you're going to cry, right? God, when did you get so weak?" He grabbed Sly by the hair and pressed his face close to the floor. "Does that look clean to you?" he screamed.
Sly winced as his grandfather pulled his hair tighter and tighter. He couldn't manage anything but a whimper in response to his question.
"Does it? Answer me!"
"No, sir!" Sly choked out. "I'll do it better, just leave me alone!" he cried desperately, trying anything to get him away.
"I don't like your tone," his grandfather said coolly. "Maybe we better wash out that smart mouth of yours." With his hair still in his hands, he shoved Sly's head into the bucket of soap and water.
Sly felt the chemicals sting his eyes, and the hot water scalded his face. He was in shock for a second, and he had swallowed some of the water when he was immersed. He tried to lift himself up out of the water, but his grandfather was holding him down. His entire head was in the bucket, and he couldn't hear anything except the muffled sound of the water. It felt as if he were on fire. Sly's thoughts raced. Oh my God. He's trying to drown me!
Sly began to desperately struggle against his grandfather's hold, wildly thrashing his arms and his legs. I can't die like this, he thought, but the lack of oxygen was starting to take over, and he was rapidly losing consciousness. He put all of his energy into one last kick, and he felt it make impact. Then his grandfather lifted his head out of the bucket, and Sly gasped and choked.
His grandfather still had a death grip on his hair, and brought Sly's face close to his. "You finally showed some guts, kid." He then threw Sly to the ground. "Now finish this or face the consequences."
Sly lay on the floor frantically trying to take in oxygen until he heard his grandfather leave. He then grabbed onto the kitchen counter and pulled himself up. He turned on the water in the sink full blast and shoved his head under it, alternately washing off his face and throwing up, attempting to rid himself of the dangerous chemicals.
After a few minutes, Sly collapsed onto the floor. His eyes were burning so badly he could barely see. However, he knew what would happen if he didn't continue. With a shaking hand, he picked up the brush and began to scrub again.
*-*-*-*-*-*
All of the muscles in Sly's hand seemed to lose their strength, and the coffee pot slipped out of his grasp. The pot landed on the white tile floor with a loud crash, its glass body shattering upon impact.
"Sh**!" he exclaimed as the hot liquid splashed his legs, drawing him out of his memory.
Lucky and Elizabeth shared a knowing glance as they rushed to help clean up the mess.
Emily quickly grabbed a few napkins from the table and handed them to Sly. "Here, you can use this to swab your legs," which he did.
"Are you ok, Sly?" Lucky said, looking at his cousin intently.
"I'm fine," he said, stooping down and starting to pick up the pieces of glass.
"Put that down, you'll cut yourself," Emily admonished. "There's a dust pan and broom in the pantry."
"I can clean this up, Emily!" Sly shouted, still gathering the broken glass in his hands, the red blush of embarrassment creeping into his cheeks.
Elizabeth gently touched Emily on the arm. "Em, why don't we let the guys take care of this? We can wait in the living room."
Emily was reluctant to leave, but Lucky waved her on, so she followed Elizabeth to the living room.
Lucky retrieved the dustpan and broom, and approached Sly. "Drop the glass, Sly. I'll take care of it."
Sly sighed, letting the glass fall from his hand. Lucky swept up the damp pieces of the coffee pot into the pan, then put them into a plastic shopping bag to throw out later. He observed Sly, who was still kneeling, just staring at the remaining mess on the floor.
Lucky grabbed a few paper towels and stooped down beside Sly. He handed one to his cousin. Both put them on the floor to sop up the remaining coffee. Lucky watched the magic of capillary action for a moment, and then turned to his cousin. "What just happened, Sly?" Lucky asked, reasonably sure of what the answer would be.
"You know, Lucky," Sly replied hoarsely. He grabbed the paper towel and started rubbing the floor, trying to get the coffee before it stained the tile. He moved his hand back and forth faster and faster, wiping the floor so hard that the paper towel began to disintegrate.
"Hey, hold on a minute," Lucky said as he touched Sly's arm in an attempt to stop the frantic scrubbing.
Sly backed away from Lucky as if he were shocked by live electricity. "Don't touch me!" he shouted quickly.
Lucky held up his hands as he looked at his cousin with sad eyes, unfortunately feeling his pain all too acutely. "I'm sorry, man," he said. "I didn't mean to scare you."
Sly ran a hand through his hair as he attempted to calm down. Relax, it's just Lucky. You're ok, he thought. "No, I'm sorry," Sly said. "I overreacted."
"If you want to talk about it…" Lucky began, knowing it was probably futile.
"Just give me some space, Lucky," Sly said with a slight shake of his head.
Lucky nodded and resumed wiping up the puddles of coffee.
*-*-*-*-*-*
Emily nervously bit one of her fingernails as she sat on the couch with Elizabeth. Her eyes kept darting to the area by the kitchen, hoping to see Sly emerge.
"I'm sorry," Elizabeth said softly.
Emily turned to her friend. "What?"
"I'm sorry," Elizabeth repeated. "I know I said something that triggered something in Sly."
Emily shook her head. "You don't have to apologize. It's not your fault."
"That's happened a few times since Lucky and I have been getting closer again. I'll say something, and it brings back a memory for him," Elizabeth said with a tinge of sadness in her voice.
"That's Sly. He always pushes me away when it happens," Emily commented.
"I know Sly's been through a lot," Elizabeth said slowly.
"What do you know, Liz?" Emily asked with a raised eyebrow.
Elizabeth played with the hem of her skirt. "Lucky's been telling me about the time after he came home. He told me about how you all got stuck in the elevator."
Emily sighed, remembering the breakthroughs of that afternoon.
"To explain everything, Lucky had to tell me a little about how Sly's grandfather abused him. I don't know much, but I promise I would never say anything," Elizabeth said with conviction.
"I know that, Elizabeth," Emily said with a nod.
"But even if Lucky didn't tell me, I think I still would have known what was going on."
"How?"
Elizabeth glanced in the direction of the kitchen. "From his eyes. I used to see them every day in the mirror. I know when I see another of the walking wounded."
*-*-*-*-*-*
Emily pulled back the royal blue bedspread, and then sank appreciatively onto the mattress. She laid her head on the soft pillows as fatigue overtook her. She closed her eyes as she heard Sly emerge from the bathroom down the hall. She heard Sly enter the room and turn off the lights. Soon, he climbed into bed next to her.
"What happened tonight, Sly?" Emily began as she opened her eyes and waited for them to become adjusted to the darkness.
Sly rubbed her shoulder lightly. "Emily, would you just let me hold you tonight? I need to feel you close to me right now."
"Ok," Emily said, even though she knew he was avoiding the question. She knew better than to push right now.
Sly moved closer to her and wrapped
his arms around her. He nuzzled her neck for a moment, breathing in her scent.
All that really matters is this moment, Sly thought, echoing words from
the night when they first made love. Nothing else matters.