Rain Check?

~38~

  "Tell me about your dad."

  My mom, sister and Jack had left about an hour earlier. Chris apparently passed on first impressions considering my mother's words when she hugged me, "he's a good one, Demi." Along with my sister who calls back to me as she was climbing in the car, "we're gonna have a long talk about this one!"

    Chris offered to stay and help me clean the kitchen, continuously teasing me in a sweet manner about my singing debut. He may have managed to talk me into singing him a short chorus from my guilty pleasure shower song but who can ever turn down this man when his lips are over your pulse point. 

  We'd decided to watch whatever Christmas movie we came to first, stopping on Charlie Brown Christmas before spooning on the couch. Staying this way through the whole movie until It's A Wonderful Life starts, when he pulls me to lay flat on my back. He stays on his side, leaning down onto his elbow.

  Chris' words catch me slightly off guard, surprised that in all the topics available to us on Christmas night that he wants me to talk about my father. 

  "Um, what do you want to know?" I ask cautiously.

  His eyes flit about my face, a finger coming up to brush a stray hair off of my forehead. "Everything. Tell me about him and your mom."

  "Their story is one of my favorites. Mom was walking with a friend to a party that was down the street, someone she went to school with I guess. But, along the way they passed a house with some guys out front, working on a car."

  "What kind of car?" he stops me to ask.

  "Cherry red 67 Mustang."

  He sucks in a breath, "nice car."

  "It was, and sat in my parent's driveway in pristine condition until Conor wrecked it."

  "What!" his eyes grow wide.

  "Story for another time," I laugh out. 

  "Alright, so..." he encourages me to continue.

  "So, the friend Ma was with knew one of the guys that were out working on the car. They stopped to talk and that's where my parent's story began."

  Chris notices a whimsical look on my face. "She never made it to the party did she?" he asks, his own eyes lighting up in wonder.

  I shake my head no, a smile growing. "They went on their first date two weeks later. And two months later they were engaged. Ma was sixteen, daddy was seventeen. They were married the day after she turned eighteen."

  "Wow. Alright, so now tell me about the man, Mr. Abrams, that raised such an incredible daughter." 

  I take a deep breath, my heart already breaking before I start to speak. "His name was Archer but most everyone called him Archie which drove him crazy," I smile. "He finally came to terms that the nickname wasn't going anywhere so he just let it go. He worked his way from the ground up with the company, going as high as he could without a degree. He was a true family man. He came to all of my softball games, all of the games that Conor cheered at even if he had just gotten off a shift and was dog tired."

  "Sounds like he was committed to both of you."

  I nod my head in agreeance. "He was, some would say almost to a fault."

  "What do you mean?" Chris asks, his brow furrowing in confusion.

    "Daddy was diagnosed with Parkinson's Disease and it moved rather quickly. Even the doctor was in disbelief, saying he'd never seen it progress so fast." I close my eyes, knowing that if I continue this will not be that picture perfect Christmas day anymore.

  "You don't have to continue if it's too much for you, Demi." His voice is soft and gentle much like his fingers that brush along my arm. "I can wait until you're ready, if you ever are."

  I roll onto my side, facing him now. His hand now rests on my hip as he leans in and kisses my forehead. "He never stopped. Even when the meds would only give him relief until lunchtime, he kept up with his life and our lives, until the night he passed in his sleep. The shaking of the camera in the video?"

  Chris nods, already knowing where I'm headed. "That was when he held the recorder wasn't it?"

  I sigh in agreeance. "That was our last Christmas together. He passed the day after New Years."

  I notice Chris' face fall at my words. "Demi," he says softly, his hand leaving my hip and lacing his fingers against my own. 

  "It's fine," I tell him, praying my acting skills are sub par because in trying to reassure him I'm hoping it rubs off on me as well. 

  He shifts to move to his back, pulling me to lay against his chest. His arm wrapping around my back, his fingers weaving through my hair. "Baby, it's okay to not be okay."

  I push my face further against his chest because I can feel myself breaking. I'm going to break in such a way that will put this evening to a complete end with me curled up in a ball after a long soak in my tub. I shift and push off of him, sitting up, completely removing myself from him. 

  "I think it's time we said goodnight," I say, attempting to hold back the dam that is threatening to break. Standing up I make a beeline for the front door, my toes moving Chris' shoes out from the wall so he can put them on. "I appreciate you coming, and spending the evening with me and putting up with my family." I toss on a fake smile before reaching for the door handle. 

  Chris stands in front of me, hands on his hips. "Dempsey, sweetheart-" he takes another step forward as I interrupt him.

  "Don't, please." I hold my  hand out in front of me. "I'm about to crumble and I don't think we are at the point in this that I'm willing to let you see that."

  He halts his steps, still not making a move for his shoes. "I don't want to go like this, Demi. I'm sorry for asking about your dad. I shouldn't have."

  Tears begin to prick my eyes and I know I'm not going to be able to hold out much longer. "No, it's fine. Really." 

 I take a step back, giving him more room so he can get ready to leave. He walks forward but doesn't stop to grab his keys, instead he continues towards me, causing me to back up completely against the door. His hand reaches up to my cheek and I close my eyes, tears falling immediately. Without his permission, I crush myself against him, my hands gripping the back of his sweater as I fall apart. 

  "Let it out, baby," he encourages me, placing a kiss on top of my  head, his arms holding me tightly against him. "I've got you."