Nearly nine months later…
Rocky chased a squirrel across the front yard, Kyle close behind, laughing raucously.
“Kyle, time for homework,” Julie called from the porch.
“In a minute!” Kyle said, chasing Rocky until he finally caught the mutt. “Ok, come on boy.” As he passed his mother, he asked “What’s for dinner.”
Darrel heard from within, and came with a glass of lemonade in hand. “I was thinking hamburgers.”
“Can we have mac and cheese too?” Kyle asked as he grabbed his backpack and dug through it for his notebook.
“If you finish your homework, sure.” His father said. He turned and bumped into the doorframe.
“Ouch,” Julie said and grabbed for Darrel’s arm, which he pulled away.
“Is it bothering you again today?”
“Yeah, there’s a storm coming in I think, it’s been bugging me all day.” He rotated his arm, trying to stretch the months old injury out.
“I heard Amy had her baby earlier today,” Julie said, a smile upon her face.
“Yeah, it’s a girl, we can go see her after supper if you want?”
“We will see, she may not be up for visitors yet. Did you hear what they named her? How big was she?”
Darrel smiled and shrugged. “I’m sorry, I’m sure the told me but I was so anxious to get home to you that I must have forgotten.”
“Your full of it, you know that?”
“Yeah, but I’m awfully cute, right?”
“That you are.” Julie said, wrapping her arms around her husbands neck and kissing him.
“Can you guys cut it out?” Kyle asked, finally finding a pencil within his bag.
Darrel and Julie both laughed.
“Come on, we’ll get those burgers going.” Julie said, pulling Darrel into the kitchen by his sleeve.
Kyle finished his homework and helped Julie make the macaroni and cheese while Darrel looked it over, pausing occasionally to flip the burgers.
Breaking off a piece of his hamburger, Kyle snuck it to Rocky, unaware that both of his parents had seen him…
Brian sat in his garage, a guitar resting on his knee, the rest of the band playing along with him.
“That can’t be right,” the other Brian said, who was now being called Slice, an attempt at humor and an homage to his favorite musician, silencing his own guitar with his hand.
“What do you mean, we’ve been working on this song forever.” Jamie said, reaching out and stopping his cymbals.
“I don’t know. I just think the lyrics are wrong.”
“We’ve been over this about a hundred times,” Brian said, setting his guitar down and picking up a sheet of paper. “They’re right here.”
Slice yanked the sheet from Brian's hands, mouth moving as he read the words. “Birthday party cheesecake jellybean boom? That makes no sense,” He finally said.
“Do you want to listen to it again? Our first concert is in three days and I want to open with this.” Brian said, walking over to where his CD’s sat on a shelf. He flipped through them, pulling out the one labeled ‘Document.’
“No, we’re fine,” Timothy said, finally setting his bass down. “Besides Slice, you’re not singing so what’s it matter to you anyways?”
“Fine,” Slice huffed. “Let’s take it from the top.”
Jamie counted them off, “One, Two, Three, Four.”
“That’s great it starts with…”
Sarah sat by the empty fireplace, ashamed that she still could not bring herself to have a fire in it. She had a stack of books that she had read on the floor to her left and a stack to her right of books that were still untouched. She had a glass of red wine resting on the coffee table, which she took a sip from. It was still fresh, only having been in the bottle a few days. She knew it would taste better with age, but the bottle had been calling to her. There was a knock at the front door of her apartment and she rose to answer it. She peered out the peep hole and had to wipe a tear from her eyes before she opened it. “One minute,” she called out.
Composed, she finally opened the door. Sam stood there, a bunch of roses in one hand, and a bundle of books in the other. He stood there awkwardly for a moment before Sarah remembered her manners. “Do come in, sorry.”
Sam stepped into the living room and set the books down with some of the others.
“Oh, I will take those,” Sarah said, taking the books and setting them upon her kitchen table. “Now where did you get these?” She asked, returning to Sam and taking the roses from him.
“You know me, just about everyone owes me something.” He said as he smiled, moving in closer and wrapping his arms around her. “You’re cold. How about you let me make you a fire.” He caught the look of fear that flashed across her face. “I’ll tell you what. I’ll stay right here all night if you let me build that fire.”
Sarah sighed, staring at the logs already piled within the fireplace, the crumpled paper underneath. “What about Evelyn?”
“She’s spending the night at a friends,” Sam replied.
“Alright,” she acquiesced.
Sam reached into his pocket and withdrew a lighter which he used to start the paper, watching Sarah’s apprehensive face the entire time. Once the flames had finally taken to the wood, Sam stepped away and sat in the corner of the green sofa that occupied the wall closest to the fire.
“Do you always carry a lighter with you now?” Sarah asked as she sat in her recliner and tok a sip of wine.
“Only when I come over here, I knew one of these days I’d get you to give in. Is there more of that?”
“Oh, I’m sorry again. Yes. Let me get you a glass.” She left the room and he heard the soft clink of glass against the stone countertop and shortly, she returned, holding out a cup of the red liquid.
Sam took it, and as Sarah returned to her seat he called her name, patting the sofa beside him.