| Subject: Chapter 245 - Part 1 (16 and above) |
Author:
KatherineG.
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Date Posted: Monday, July 10, 07:06:17am
In reply to:
KatherineG.
's message, "Dreams in the Dark" on Monday, May 01, 06:55:47am
Extra warning: There are a couple of minor curse words here; I'll rate it 16 and above, just to be safe. Also, you'll find some dated racial terminology. Sorry--I'm just trying to keep within the period the story is set in.
Dreams in the Dark (245/?)
by Katherine Gilbert
It would have been a difficult situation to describe, was a terrible new twist. For all the traumas they were experiencing, this was something entirely unexpected--but there was no avoiding the truth. Sometimes, no matter how unbearable life already seemed, it went in even stranger and more unpleasant directions than anyone could expect.
This was a truth Terry was rediscovering now, her shock almost tangible to the people around her. Even if, fortunately, the only ones who saw her were those she lived with or around, her absolute distraction was worrisome. Generally speaking, she was the most grounded individual any of them knew. To see her like this . . .
There was a look which passed between the three, familiar people she passed, as she stared disconcertedly at the paper in her hands--her shock taking her, without a word, down the stairs, past them, and right out the door toward the guesthouse she and Kate shared; Andrew had, fortunately, already left, didn't need explanations. When Kate soon followed, her concern quite clear in her look, Helmut and Rene just gazed at each other, before the former gave quiet orders to hold dinner for an hour. They still had to give a brief goodbye to Michael and Nikita. Then, they would have to wait to see what was really going on.
They did, as well, patiently--each of the genuine couples who shared this place understanding quite well that there were simply times when they shouldn't intervene. This left poor Kate to follow her partner, wondering fearfully where this went. In all the years she had known the woman, she had never seen Terry look so uncertain; her heart thumped heavily. The last thing they all needed, what with the thousand other perils of their lives, was another catastrophe come to destroy them.
This fear was heavily in her mind, as she followed her lover, catching up a few minutes later in the small bungalow which made their home. When she entered, closing the door carefully behind her, she found the woman sitting on the bed, staring quite blankly at the paper in her hand. "Terry?" she called worriedly. But the deep, tortured eyes which met her own told her much she hadn't wanted to know.
She came to sit beside her, fearful now for her partner's sanity and safety. After a moment, there was a very deep sigh, before Terry's tormented gaze focused on hers. "Read it," she grimaced, pushing the paper toward her, before going back to a distracted study of the room. All Kate could do was quietly oblige. There wasn't any help she could hope to give without knowing what new Hell had opened.
She sat there silently, then, opening the letter fully, beginning to study it, as one hand rubbed tenderly over her partner's back. She wasn't even certain that Terry noticed, at the moment, but it was all she could do without more information.
Her gaze swept across the page quickly, the analysis beginning without her even meaning to. The first thing she noticed about what was clearly a letter, one which had so upset her beloved, was the handwriting, the script terrible and crabbed. It didn't seem to have been written in the best of situations, but she suspected that wasn't the only reason--the writer a little unfamiliar with the act of taking up a pen. Occasionally, passages were scratched out, as well; she was squinting, as she tried to make it out. It seemed to read:
Dear Ter--(This was scratched out).
Dear daughter,
Kate's eyes widened already, staring back to her partner for a second. Still, she forced herself on:
I know you don't think that I have the right to contact you, and you may be right. I probably gave that up a long time ago. Still, I want you to know what I never had the chance to tell you before. I hope you'll bother to read it.
I don't know what to say about that day, about the day it all happened. I know I shouldn't have hit you. But when I heard about what happened, about Mama and Billy being gone, about that damn mob that took them (There was a space here, as though the writer had temporarily given up.) I don't know what happened. I guess I just kind of cracked.
I know that's not good enough. And I know I shouldn't have left after they died. I know I should have looked after you. But at that time I thought you would be better off with your Mama's family. They were already raising their children. I figured you would fit in, after awhile.
I know this ain't (scratched out) isn't good enough, and I'm not sure whether I'm actually asking you to forgive me. What I do want you to know is how your family is doing, your son especially.
It was at this point that Terry heard her partner's gasp, but it only brought out a muted sort of sigh from her--knowing without question what she had just learned. "Keep going," she murmured. She might as well get all of it now.
Kate tried to follow the advice, going back to the letter--her eyes even wider:
Eddie's a fine, healthy boy--although I guess that word isn't appropriate anymore. He's almost 15 now, as I guess you remember. But he's doing real well in school, better than any of us ever done (This looked like it had been scratched out much later, its emendation made over the original word) did. Of course, from what I hear from your Mama's folks, you probably would have done about as well yourself, if times would have let you. Maybe he'll do all of us proud.
I know you don't think I should be writing this. I know you think I don't have the right--and that might be true. But a growing boy needs his Mama, his real one. Just turning him over to your Auntie Janie ain't fair. Whatever caused you to have the boy, those things are in the past. He should know where he comes from. You owe him that much.
Dear Lord. Kate found herself seething by this point, had to work not to wrinkle the paper in her hand. Given what little she knew about Terry and her separation from her father, she didn't give the man too much credit. He really didn't have the right to talk about debts. Still, she went on:
I guess I didn't mean to lecture you, it's just that your folks ain't heard from you a lot. And I want you to know that I was proud of you when I saw your films. Whatever kind of role they made you play, you did it with style. That's when a man's happy to know his child.
That's about all I have to say. I don't even know for certain why I wrote this, except to have my thoughts down on paper. I don't know where to send it. I'll be lucky if I can find someone who knows you to give this to you. And even then, I can't really trust that they will.
If you do ever hold this, though, I want you to know a couple of things. First, I did love you and think about you, even after I was gone. Second, I'm sorry if I hurt you. But most important, I want you to get in touch with Eddie. He's at a tough age, and he could use having his Mama around.
I hope you're okay,
Dad
There was an absolute silence, after Kate finished the letter; Terry knew she was done, once her partner was every bit as still as she had been for the last several minutes. She let it all sink in, waiting for the woman's first words, as her own analysis flowed silently on. She only wished she really knew where to begin.
In some ways, there hadn't been a lot of truth to the letter--any apologies he gave seeming fairly thin. Her father had been right about at least one thing, though; it was a miracle the letter had gotten to her. Even when she had been employed at the studio, the chances of her getting anything like fan mail were a little uncertain, at best. How he had made the choice of Nikita from all the various stars--Premier's and others'--must have been guided by someone's divine hand. Although whether that hand was heavenly or demonic, she really had no idea.
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