"Oh, hey," Lucky said with a lopsided wistful smile. "I didn't see you coming."
"I didn't know that you would be here today," Nikolas said. He swept off a place beside Lucky on the stairs.
Lucky laughed. "Not clean enough for you, sir?"
Nikolas smiled sheepishly. "These are expensive pants," he said as he sat down. "What brings you here today?" he asked.
Lucky brushed his hair back with his left hand. "Session with Kevin. Then I thought I'd go see my cousin."
"How is he?" Nikolas asked politely. He still felt ambivalent towards Sly; he wasn't sure he really liked him, but he was Lucky's cousin, and Emily's husband. Obviously, they saw something in him.
"Not speaking," Lucky said, obviously disappointed. "I'm really worried about him." He looked off into the distance for a moment, tracing the flight path of a sparrow with his bright blue eyes.
Nikolas could sense that there was more to Lucky's pensive mood than concern for his cousin. "Well, I came here to visit Stefan. He was supposed to hear about the charges against Helena today."
Lucky was very quiet for a moment; then he looked down at his beat-up sneakers, more gray than white anymore. "The DA called this morning," he said finally. "Among other things, they're charging her for the attempted murder of your uncle, and of you," Lucky said softly.
"That's great!" Nikolas exclaimed. Then he noticed that Lucky didn't share his enthusiasm. "Lucky, what's wrong? I thought this was good news."
Lucky exhaled sharply. "They also told me that they're not going to be able to charge her with anything that had to do with my kidnapping or imprisonment."
Nikolas was surprised. "Why?" he asked, confusion spread across his face.
Lucky shook his head. "Apparently, there's not enough evidence to make it worth it to prosecute her. They really think that they can nail her on the other charges, which should keep her in jail for the rest of her life," he said with a twinge of regret in his voice.
"I'm sorry," Nikolas said simply. There was an awkward silence; Nikolas wasn't sure what else he should say or do.
Lucky sighed. "You know, maybe this is a good thing." He looked carefully at the yellow stitching of his jeans. "I was so focused on my own sense of justice, making her pay, that it made me bitter. That kind of bitterness, that kind of hate, it eats away at your soul." He hit his knee with his hand. "By letting myself hate her, I was giving her all the power!" he said forcefully.
"But I hate her too, Lucky, for every evil, unspeakable thing she's ever done," Nikolas said with fury in his voice.
Lucky nodded. "I'm not saying I forgive her; not yet, maybe not ever. But maybe we can get something back from letting go," he said, opening his hand. "I don't want to poison myself with my own hatred."
A few moments of silence followed. Nikolas just looked at his brother, once again blown away by his insight and maturity. "Lucky, you amaze me," he said admiringly. "Are you sure I'm the older brother?"
"Yeah, sometimes I wonder," Lucky said deprecatingly. He smiled at his brother. Sometimes he still couldn't believe how far they'd come. He quickly looked down at his watch. "Oh man, I've got to go." He stood up.
Nikolas rose as well. "I'll see you soon?" he asked.
Lucky smiled. "Sure. I'll give you a call." His face took a more serious look. "Say hello to Stefan for me. Make sure that the anger doesn't take over his life either."
"I will," Nikolas said. He looked at Lucky for a moment, and then surprised the both of them by pulling his brother into a hug.
Lucky laughed. "Nikolas, are you getting soft on me?"
Nikolas pulled away. "No. I just realized that not everyone gets a second chance like we did."
Lucky didn't know what to say to that; he just clapped Nikolas on the shoulder. "I'll talk to you later," he said, and then disappeared through the hospital doors.
*-*-*-*-*-*
Emily peeked into Sly's room, but was surprised to find only an orderly there. He was changing the sheets on the bed. She knocked as she entered. "Excuse me," she said. "This is my husband's room. Do you know where he is?"
The orderly smiled. "He's just gone for tests, ma'am. He should be back soon." He was just finishing putting the pillowcases on the pillows. He put them back on the bed, and then wheeled the laundry cart out of the room. "You have a good day," he called.
Emily waved to him. She sat down in the chair beside the bed. Her parents were right. She did feel better after eating and a good night's sleep. Without Sly to focus on, her eyes wandered around the room. It was your standard-issue hospital room- white walls, white sheets, linoleum floor. Then her eyes were drawn to the only bright color in the room, a yellow legal pad on Sly's rollaway table. Curiosity got the best of her, and she reached up and took it.
She smiled when she realized that it was Sly's handwriting, or rather, his very sloppy attempt at left-handed writing. It took her a minute to decipher what she was reading, but when she did, she gasped. "Oh my," she whispered as she turned the pages, continuing to read.
*-*-*-*-*-*
"Can we stop talking about Helena, please?" Lucky got up from his chair in Kevin's office and started pacing.
"It must be a terrible shock for you that she won't be charged with your kidnapping and imprisonment," Kevin said evenly, observing his patient.
"Look, I've already had this conversation with Nikolas. I'm covered," Lucky said definitively.
Kevin just jotted down a note to himself to follow up on this topic later. "Well, Lucky, what else is on your mind?"
Lucky sighed, grateful Kevin wasn't pushing him. "I don't feel like I should be here right now. My problems seem so inconsequential compared to Sly and Emily's."
"Yes, their situation is very serious, but that doesn't mean you should ignore your own recovery," Kevin said logically.
Lucky almost didn't hear him. Instead, he continued on. "I just can't believe this happened. Or maybe I can't believe I didn't do something to stop it."
"Did you know your cousin intended to hurt himself like this?"
Lucky shook his head. "No, but I knew something was off. Sly wasn't really acting like himself the past few months. I thought maybe I was just feeling some residual tension between us. But looking back, I really think something was wrong. God, he had this really bad flashback when Elizabeth and I were over for dinner a while ago. I mean, I tried to touch him on the arm, but he pulled away as if he were shocked by live electricity," Lucky said sadly. "I should have done more."
"What more could you have done, Lucky?" Kevin questioned. "Should you have demanded he tell you what was going on? Refused to leave until he talked to you? Do you really think that would have helped?"
Lucky held up his hands; he knew he had lost that argument. "I just, I just wish I could have done something." He ran a hand through his soft brown hair. His blue eyes clouded. "I'm just really…" Lucky stopped.
"Lucky, please continue," Kevin said, sensing Lucky needed some encouragement to keep going.
"This sounds really selfish," Lucky muttered.
"There are no judgments here, you know that," Kevin said softly.
Lucky tightly wrapped his arms around his waist. He was silent a moment before speaking. "I was thinking that I'm really scared now that Sly has done this. You've got to understand, when I first came home, he was like my inspiration. He had been through just as much hell as I had, but he survived, and he was doing good. Or so I thought," Lucky whispered. "Now I wonder if there's hope for either of us anymore."
"So you're worried that since your cousin has slipped into, let's say, old patterns, you will do the same," Kevin said, putting it all together.
"I told you it was selfish," Lucky said quietly.
"I don't think so, Lucky. You see a lot of yourself mirrored in Sly. You have tremendous empathy for his struggle, which resembles your own. I think it's healthy that you're admitting this to yourself. It doesn't mean you're putting your needs before your cousin's. You're just feeling vulnerable," Kevin concluded.
"I just don't understand, Kevin. I know Sly would never have wanted to do this, but something must have come over him, something very dark. I know the last thing he would have wanted was to become abusive." Lucky sat in the chair again, shoulders slumped, looking tiredly at the floor.
"This situation is more complicated than we know right now, Lucky. But you have said it yourself- Sly never hit Emily."
"I know that. I tried to tell him that." Lucky looked up directly into Kevin's eyes. "But why do we keep doing this to ourselves? Why can't my family stop this?"
"Stop what, Lucky?" Kevin said, keeping the eye contact.
"Hurting ourselves, and each other. It seems like we're mired in this circle of depression and abuse, and I'm afraid it's never going to stop." Lucky's eyes filled with tears. "We just keep passing it on like an old family heirloom."
Kevin swallowed. "It's not going to be an easy process, Lucky. Each person is going to have to step up and consciously try to stop this pattern of behavior."
A tear ran down Lucky's cheek. "We have to, Kevin. We've got to break the cycle, before it's too late."
*-*-*-*-*-*
Emily read the words over and over again. She felt tears spring to her eyes.
This was a breakthrough; it had to be. Sly had the ability to create something
beautiful even in the worst of times. She looked at the pages again. Though
written in very wobbly handwriting, crossed out and changed, it was clear that
these were song lyrics. Emily closed her eyes for a moment to quell the rising
tears. Then she looked down and read again.
Don't know much about you
Don't know who you are
We've been doing fine without you
But, we could only go so far
Don't know why you chose us
Were you watching from above
Is there someone there that knows us
Said we'd give you all our love
This is a song for our child. She gently rubbed her stomach. "Your daddy wrote this for you," she said softly. She imagined a beautiful angel in white leading a small child by the hand and pointing. "There they are," the angel whispered. "Meet your mom and dad."
Will you laugh just like your mother
Will you sigh like your old man
Will some things skip a generation
Like I've heard they often can
Are you a poet or a dancer
A devil or a clown
Or a strange new combination of
The things we've handed down
Emily closed her eyes again as she let the words wash over her. She pictured herself in the nursery of their apartment. She was sitting in Lila's rocking chair as the sun poured in through the windows. In her arms, she held a brand-new baby. She rocked back and forth gently as she continued to stare down at the newborn.
I wonder who you'll look like
Will your hair fall down and curl
Will you be a mama's boy
Or daddy's little girl
The baby had blonde- no, brown hair. After all, isn't brown hair a dominant gene? The infant stirred and yawned a bit, and she smiled, still amazed by its every movement. Just then, she heard footsteps enter the room. She lifted her head to see her husband standing in the doorway.
"How is my family?" he asked softly.
Emily smiled at Sly, who looked so much better, healthy and strong; the bandages were now removed from his hand. "We're just fine, but our little one is tired."
"Let me put her in the bassinette," Sly said as he moved closer into the radiant sunshine.
"Will you be able to with your hand?" Emily asked.
Sly flexed it a little. "I'm making progress everyday. Don't worry, I won't drop her."
Emily handed the baby to Sly, and he lifted her gently out of her mother's arms. "Hi there," he cooed softly. He hummed a bit as he placed the baby in the bassinette.
Emily thought she had never seen Sly so happy, so at peace. She got up and joined him to look at their now sleeping daughter.
Will you be a sad reminder
Of what's been lost along the way
Maybe you can help me find her
In the things you do and say
They both looked down at the child silently for several minutes, just taking in each of her breaths. Finally, Sly turned to Emily. "We have been so blessed." He placed a hand on her shoulder. "This baby has been our miracle. I don't know how, but she's healing me. She's reminding me of falling in love all over again. I already see so much of her in you," he said, tears forming in his eyes.
"That's funny," Emily said softly. "When I look at her, all I see is you."
Sly kissed her gently on the lips, then they both continued to look at their child, overwhelmed.
And these things that we have given you
They are not so easily found
But you can thank us later
For the things we've handed down
Emily's mind flashed forward in time. Now she pictured a young boy of about 10 with a sour look on his face when he watched his parents kissing. "You guys are weird," he complained.
Sly laughed as he pulled away. "You're not going to think we're so weird in a few years."
Emily looked to her son, sitting at the kitchen table. He was a good boy, with sparkling brown eyes. She smiled at him. "Isn't it time for you to practice?"
He sighed. "I don't know why you make me play so much," he said as he got up and left the room.
"You're going to thank us later for this!" Sly called. He then shook his head and turned to Emily. "God. When did I start sounding so much like my parents?"
Emily laughed. "I think it's pre-programmed into our brains. Like 'Try it, it's good for you,' or 'be careful!'"
Soon, the sound of piano filled the house. It started as a classical composition, but then digressed into a rollicking jangle of notes. Sly just laughed. "I told you; he was born to be a rock star."
As that image dissolved, a new one sprang to mind, this time a girl of about 12, and Emily and Sly sitting next to her on a couch.
You may not always be so grateful
For the way that you were made
Some feature of your father's
That you'd gladly sell or trade
"I already understand about sex," she said matter-of-factly, with a nod of her head, brown bangs falling in her eyes.
Sly's face was colored with crimson. Emily patted his hand. "We know you already understand a lot, honey."
"Yeah. I mean, you guys were teenaged parents," she said. "It's kind of cool."
Emily sighed. "It's not always that cool," she stated. "It's hard work having a baby at any age, but it's doubly difficult when you're that young."
"But that doesn't mean that we regretted having you for one second," Sly interjected. "I want to make sure that you know that."
The young girl shook her head. "I know." She looked serious. "But sometimes I wish you were older."
Emily was impressed by her honesty. "Why is that?"
The girl looked down for a moment. "I don't know. It's weird, but sometimes it seems like you're not really grown-ups. It's like you're growing up with me."
Sly and Emily exchanged a look; once again, she was right on target. "That may be true, honey," Sly said softly. He gently lifted his daughter's chin. "But we're trying."
Emily opened her eyes to read the last few lines again. This time she saw an older teenaged boy, standing toe to toe with his father.
And one day you may look at us
And say that you were cursed
But over time that line has been
Extremely well rehearsed
"We're not letting you go, and that's final," Sly said calmly.
He looked directly into his father's eyes. "That's not fair! You're treating me like a baby."
Sly looked right back. "No. We're doing this because we want you to be safe. You don't want to grow up too fast like we did. We want you to learn from our mistakes."
The young man stepped away, but threw up his hands in anger. "Then why can't you let me live my life and learn from my own?" He stared at them angrily. "I hate you."
Sly just nodded his head. "Then that's ok, because we will never stop loving you."
By our fathers, and their fathers
In some old and distant town
From places no one here remembers
Come the things we've handed down
Finally, she pictured herself and Sly many years later. They both had some wrinkles on their faces, and a touch of gray in their hair, but they were smiling. Emily adjusted her daughter's veil. "Everything is going to be just fine today."
Their daughter smiled back at them, radiant in her wedding gown. "I know it will. Mom, dad, I just have to tell you something." She took each of their hands in hers. "I never knew just how much you really loved each other until I fell in love myself. I know things haven't always been easy, but you've been my inspiration, and I just wanted you to know that."
Emily and Sly enveloped her in a hug, no words necessary.
The door to the hospital room creaked open, and Emily was jarred from her fantasy. An orderly wheeled Sly in. Emily looked down and realized she was still holding the notepad and she felt guilty. She was probably invading Sly's privacy, again.
You're not going to give up on me, are you? Sly thought as he saw Emily. You're still here.
Emily tried to gauge his reaction to her, but his face was neutral. "Hello, Sly," she said softly.
The orderly tried to help Sly back into the bed, but Sly waved him off. He was well enough to do it on his own now. "Press the call button if you need anything," the orderly reminded him before he left the room.
Sly and Emily were left alone. They just looked at each other for a moment. Then Emily put the legal pad back on the table. "I'm sorry. I know I shouldn't have looked," she said, looking down a little.
Sly pulled the table a little closer to himself. Then he picked up the marker, awkwardly removing its cap. He printed in large, shaky letters. Finally, he put down the marker and turned the pad so Emily could see it. "It's ok," he wrote. "It was for you."
Emily smiled, relieved that Sly was actually communicating with her again. "It was beautiful," she whispered.
Sly simply shrugged his shoulders. It's just a song, lines on paper.
"How are you feeling?" she asked, hoping he'd continue the almost conversation.
Another minute passed as he wrote. "Strange," was all it said.
Emily carefully observed her husband. He didn't seem so despondent today, but he was far from happy or calm. Still, she could see that he was really paying attention to her, and not lost in some other world.
He wrote some more. "My hand is messed up. Maybe no guitar."
Emily sighed. "I know. You severed some of your tendons."
Sly laid his head back on the pillows for a moment and shut his eyes. I can't believe I did this. I don't think before I act; that's my problem.
"Hey, it's not hopeless. It's just going to take a lot of time and therapy to get your hand back in shape," Emily said, wishing she could relieve some of his pain.
Sly opened his eyes again at the sound of her voice. She was trying to make him feel better, but he was the one who should be apologizing, calming her fears. He picked up the marker and started writing again. He bit his lip in frustration because the letters just weren't coming out right. Finally, he held up the pad against his chest for Emily to see.
"I'm sorry. I never meant for this to happen," was scratched out in bold letters. He looked at her with tear-filled eyes.
"I know you didn't mean this, Sly. That's what I've been telling everyone," Emily said, her own voice cracking.
He put the pad back and wrote again. "Everyone hates me."
Emily shook her head. "That's not true, Sly. If we hated you, then why would we care if you got better?"
He took in a shaky breath that sounded almost like a sob. He wrote. "I hate me."
A tear rolled down Emily's cheek. "Don't say that, Sly. Don't hate yourself. You are a good person, and you're worthy of love, most of all from yourself."
Sly shook his head. Would a good person try to hit his pregnant wife?
"Sly, just talk to me. Let me help you." Emily's lower lip trembled as she willed him to say something, anything.
"I can't. I don't want to hurt you," Sly scribbled quickly.
"You won't hurt me by talking to me," Emily said.
"That's how this started," he wrote, and some of the marker started to run when a tear hit the paper.
"No, it's not, Sly," Emily said firmly. "This started because I said something awful. You just reacted."
"Don't excuse my behavior," he frantically marked.
"I'm not. But don't take all the blame either," Emily said. She looked into his eyes. "Don't give up on yourself. Don't give up."
Sly hung his head for a moment. A few more tears slipped down his face. Finally, he wrote again. "I don't want to give up. I just don't know what else to do."
Emily stood, and reached out with her hand to Sly. He didn't flinch or move away, so she gently wiped the tears from his cheeks. "We're going to get through this, Sly," she whispered. "I believe in you."
Song Credit: "The Things We've Handed Down" by Marc Cohn. Found on his album, The Rainy Season.