For the smattering of you who may find this interesting:
I am writing a blog as Claire Hamilton, my alter ego who wrote Do You Hear What I Hear? and published it last year on Amazon:
Novelist, currently published by Fleur de Lys Books.
There you will find me nattering on about my writing, thoughts about writing and life in general.
I have not been on here in months, primarily because RL can suck. When DYH dropped, my father had just died and it was not easy. The death of a parent usually isn’t, and then my youngest daughter was also very, very sick. I won’t go into detail but it was incredibly stressful and it led to strife with hub’s family when it should not have, but did anyway…and then had to help maternal unit with the hellish amount of paperwork generated by dad’s passing, processing my own grief, and coping with daughter’s decreasing health (now happily improving, inch by inch…sometimes there are setbacks, but overall she is slowly getting stronger)…and now it is the beginning of August. Sweet Mother Frigga, have mercy…
Now I am writing another novel, as well as trying to edit Symphony without Strings in the hopes of publishing that as well in the new year. I will not pull the version that is here, but as SwS is my love song to my friend Christine who died from leiomyosarcoma, it would mean so much to me to get this story to a broader audience someday. Obviously it will not have as much of a fandom influence. But the main plot will remain the same. In the wake of COVID and scientific advances, I will go over everything with a fine tooth comb to see what will need to change, and what will remain. I cannot and will not publish a story that would give anyone a false picture of what therapies might be viable for a loved one facing a life-threatening illness.
So, hop on over if you’ve a wish to see what is on my mind these days. I’d love to hear from any of you.
There is a story behind the story, but to keep it brief...
In midsummer, I was approached by a group of writer friends I admire: a bunch of wonderful, talented women, all published with devoted followers. These women concentrate on romance, but in differing areas of the genre: some focus on the historical realm, others contemporary, paranormal, erotic, you name it.
Anyway. They invited me to participate in what I thought was a collection of short stories for the holidays. I was honored, and after picking my jaw up from the floor, I agreed. I’ve never been published in print before, and it’s been a long-deferred dream of mine.
Read the fine print, Nonny. They were asking you to contribute a NOVEL for a collection for the holidays. Whoops.
They agreed to let me off the hook once I stopped hyperventilating, as I only had a few short months to get my Muse back from wherever she had buggered off to, but no. I am stubborn, and was not going to let this chance slip past me...
…but I had no plot, very little time, and my personal life was falling apart at a terrifying clip…
After several false starts, I came up with the above. It is available now in paperback, and will be available as an ebook on November 30th. (That is hard and fast as per the roll-out agreement with the group, but it will be available through the Kindle Unlimited program for those of you who are subscribers.)
So, for those who have enjoyed my little scribblings in the past, I have this offering for you! It’s not fandom (and although the male protagonist’s name is Henry, he is not Henry Cavill…but if you squint, I suppose you could envision him being cast as such…? It was never my intent!) but it’s still my writing, still under a nom de plume. Because REASONS.
So, all the news from Nonny that I will inflict upon you at the moment. Carry on.
For those of you who purchased my novel Do you Hear What I Hear? as an ebook on Amazon, it is now available for you in as promised: in its corrected, republished version, with formatting errors, typos, etc., all removed. Here is how you can make sure you have the book I wanted you to have all along:
1. Go to your Amazon Account, and find Manage Your Content and Devices
2. Select Preferences tab
3. Find the Automatic Book Updates option, and make sure you have selected “on”
4. If necessary, you can sync the title by clicking on the cover of the book to ensure you have the corrected version. The quickest way to make sure you do is to look at the Table of Contents. The Acknowledgments page should be at the end of the book (where it bloody belongs) rather than the beginning…
If I can be of any assistance with this, please let me know.
If you purchased a hard copy, please drop me a line in my DMs…
Once more, I apologize for putting you, my reader, through all this trouble. You should not have to go through all this effort, and I beg your indulgence once more for having to tolerate the pains of my maiden voyage as a published author in rough seas.
@catsladen wrote: Congrats my dear on your followers! That is amazing and so well deserved! Here’s a conversation prompt I found that I think you can do magic with: Person A: Why are you doing that? Person B: Doing what? Person A:Treating me like a person I picture either Tom or Loki, but I leave that up to you 😊 No smut necessary. Some fluff/angst mixture would be nice (Fangst? Anuff?) Thank you lovely!
After I wrote about having my lovely followers, Life came around and bit me, in the ass, hard. I was left with a large set of dentition marks and a massive infection known as “depression” in its wake. I say this because I know I’ve pretty much fallen off the face of Tumblr, and I am still clawing my way back. I do not have it nearly as bad as some, but I have it bad enough, and I will leave it at that.
When the events that I write about next happened in real life, I could not stop thinking about them, having worked in a veterinary hospital for three memorable years, and I ran the events through my head, over and over. I could see the events as they could have played out...might have played out...most probably played out in some aspects...and then this plot took root, and would not let go.
So, I apologize, @catsladen, for this is not the most original piece that I have ever come up with...in fact, it is derivative, and some may see it as a cheap rip off on a very real event. Still, it will not let me go, and as such, here it is. I present to you, A Ruff Day.
Working on federal holiday weekends in an emergency vet hospital always either dragged, or were so busy I could neither eat nor pee. Today seemed to be the former, and I was grateful for it. The techs were scattered around doing their busy work, while I closed myself in my office, tossing an oversized tennis ball in the air and catching it as I balanced on the back legs of a chair. I’ve done all my charting, there are no patients for me to check on. The last one through the door was a bulldog that came too close to a honeybee, and his already bulbous face swelled grotesquely. A shot of antihistamine, a script of Benadryl, then he and owner went off, right as rain. The airway was never compromised, all’s well that ends well...except for the bee, of course.
Kellie Ashe, one of the techs, came racing into the office without knocking, breathless. “You will no ever guess what is going on at intake!”
I jumped up, grabbing my stethoscope and mask (Thank you COVID) as I glared at her, “What is it and where is your mask?” The laws were quite clear, and stringent on this, and she had no mask on...and what was that twit doing? Brushing her hair and putting on eye makeup, what...? “Kellie! Focus! What is happening? Is it a hit and run, a delivery presenting badly...dog or cat...” I swear this girl has the brain of a flea...
“Tom Hiddleston is here with his dog!”
I look at her blankly. Nothing registered with me except one word—dog. “Kellie, what is wrong with the animal?” I asked, rushing to turn on the lights in the OR, making sure the X-ray machines were on and warmed up, the ultrasound is also on, and proceeding to the exam rooms, turning the lights on in one.
“It’s my turn to be the assisting tech so I ran back here to make sure you knew, it’s my turn not Claire’s, so I get to be the one in the room with you and Tom...”
I stop and freeze her with a glare. “Kellie, I don’t know what in the hell you’re blabbering about, but so far you have given me no information that has been useful to me. Therefore, there is no reason for you to be anywhere around me, the patient, or the owner. You can wait in the back.”
“What? But no...! I’m the one that ran back to tell you, I’m the one that should get to be in the....”
“If you were concerned with the animal you’d be there right now, but no, you were more interested in putting on mascara for chrissakes...get in the treatment room, I don’t even want to see you right now!”
I came to the front area to see a tall man, obviously the owner, who was obviously in a great deal of distress. “I don’t know how many he had..maybe one? It could have been two? And I don’t know if he chewed them, or swallowed them whole...” His voice was muffled by the mask we kept on hand to give to owners as they came in without masks, as they usually did, upset and stressed. Bright flowers covered the lower half of his face, but as I looked at his bright blue eyes, I finally understood what got Kellie in such a tizzy, and why there was an element of suppressed excitement that our usual emergency walk ins did not produce.
Next to him was a calmer woman, who was filling out some of the paperwork, and occasionally passing it to him to sign or for more information. “Tom, I really think it was only the one, and this is a bit over the top. One raisin isn’t worth all this...”
“A raisin, did you say?” My attention was now completely trained on the sad eyed chocolate spaniel at the feet of Claire Peyton, one of the calmest and best techs we had. She had already gotten a temperature and a weight from the little fellow, and was gently guiding the dog and owner into an exam room, while Liz, the receptionist, was explaining to the woman with the clipboard she could not follow us in because of the current COVID restrictions we were under. Only the owner was allowed in the exam room, because of the laws about remaining so many feet apart...and the worst part was, we couldn’t even allow her to wait in the interior waiting room, but she was welcome to stay on the screened porch we were using at the moment. She wasn’t thrilled, but she was accepting.
I quietly introduced myself. “Hi, I’m Dr. Diana Harris, and I’ll be helping...” “Bobby,” the man said quietly. “This is my...Bobby.”
“Okay Bobby, come here and let me look at you, you scoundrel...stealing raisins, are we? When did this happen, Dad?”
“Tom,” he said, distracted. “About ten minutes ago...maybe twenty. I saw that he was snuffling around the plate, and all the biscuits were gone...so were the little cheese squares...and there had been five raisins before, I am sure of it, and when I picked everything up, I only saw four...”
“Very precise,” I noted mildly as I listened to Bobby’s heart and lungs, which were both within normal limits, and made a hand motion for Claire to make a note of it.
“What’s that, that hand signal, what did that mean?” Oh, wow. Tom is very, very upset.
“It’s a signal I’ve developed with my techs to let them know that the patient’s heart and lungs are fine without having to take the time to say it, Tom,” I reply, keeping my life low and mild. The owner’s agitation is passing along to the little spaniel, who is looking around and panting.
“He keeps doing that, he’s panting and looking upset, is he in pain?”
“Claire, liquid charcoal according to weight please,” I murmur, and she promptly replied, “On it,” and she excused herself to open the door...only to find Kellie standing there, clearly eavesdropping. The look I gave Kellie had her scampering...but oh, it will not be far enough. Luckily, Tom did not notice.
“Okay, Tom, here’s how it stands.” I leaned against the exam table, Bobby quivering in Tom’s arms. “You did exactly the right thing bringing Bobby here, and so quickly. Raisins are extremely toxic to dogs, and the fact you got him here so fast really speaks to how much you care about this little guy...so give yourself some credit...”
“I told her...I told her I didn’t want them around where he could get to them...the Bobster is a bit of a food thief,” he muttered.
“Ok, so you’re telling me he’s a dog,” I drily replied. “Anyway, we’re going to take care of this issue right now. I’m going to take Bobby to the back and...”
“Oh no, can’t I go with him?”
Somehow, I saw this being his response. “Tom, we are going to give him some liquid charcoal. It looks like black sludge and it tastes like garbage. He isn’t going to want to take it so we are going to administer it in a way that he will have no choice but to swallow it, but there will most likely be some spluttering. This stuff is a bear and a half to get out of clothes so you do not want to be within spitting radius...and then this little charmkins, after he gives us a horrible stink eye, is going to proceed to vomit, probably in the messiest manner possible, just for spite and revenge, and I don’t blame him one bit. Again, you do not want to be in range! Then depending on what he gives me back, we can go from there. So no, I think it best you stay here...you can wait with your girlfriend, if you want, and I will be right back when I have something to tell you. I promise we aren’t going to hurt him, but we have to get this out, right away.”
“Right, right...don’t waste time talking to me...I’ll just...sit here, if that’s okay.”
“As you wish, Tom.”
I took the leash from his hand gently. His hands were so cold, I felt pity for him. “I’ll take good care of him, I promise,” I said, and left him standing there, bereft.
Bobby walked with me well enough, and I took him to the treatment area to find Claire had already drawn up the appropriate amount. She quickly got the dog in the appropriate position, and I propped his mouth open carefully and quickly administer the liquid yuck and then closed my hand over his muzzle, blowing softly to stimulate the swallowing reflex. His eyes bulged at the foul concoction, and I tenderly explained,”Ah, such are the wages of sin, my dear thief...and it tastes like ass. Down the hatch...” He swallowed, and I gave Claire the unspoken head nod to release him and step back, which she did...as did I...and Bobby, outraged at this poor treatment, proceeded to sputter and spit like a world champion. Black froth went everywhere, and I couldn’t help but laugh at his outraged expression. “Yes Bobby, that’s right. But I’m sorry, it’s going to get much worse before it gets better...”
After a few minutes, he aggrieved expression turned into the anxious canine smile that presaged a good vomiting session, which was exactly what we wanted. I let him pace about in a small area, until finally he let nature take its course and released the contents of his stomach. Ah, joy, what every veterinarian struggled and sweat blood for, the contents of a dog’s stomach...or a cat, we’re not picky...and hey, I’ll take that over shit, any day...
“Good boy, there’s a good boy,” I soothed him as he retched. He was as miserable as you’d expect, and I kept smoothing my hand over his heaving flanks. I didn’t care about my shoes, they were already black, and just for this reason. Soon I saw a lone offender, and I called for a pair of tweezers to pluck it from the mess and place it on a paper towel. Claire was also consoling the sad little fellow, who was, I hope, reconsidering his evil ways, as I then took a tongue depressor and poked through everything he so woefully bestowed upon us. Yep, cheese...chewed up crackers...mmm, that sausage looked like it was probably expensive...but no other raisins. Just the one. Plus, it hadn’t been chewed, either, excellent! Best of all, it was caught up in all this other stuff. Perfect. Couldn’t ask for better, really.
“Kellie!” I called out. When she didn’t appear right away, my heart sank and my anxiety rose. She wasn’t...she didn’t...
“Hold the leash,” I barked and walked swiftly back to the exam room, and sure enough, I heard her syrupy tones inside...I saw red.
I opened the door carefully, to find her talking to Tom who was standing in almost a corner while she was yapping away. I must have had a look on my face like an avenging goddess, because she immediately began stammering, “I just thought...I could stay and keep Tom company...while you were working with Bobby...”
“Stop thinking, Kellie, it only gets you into more trouble, and it probably strains the gerbils,” I replied softly. “I have a job for you. In the back treatment area. Where I told you to be. Go there. Now.”
She turned towards Tom and said, “So, um...”
“NOW.”
She jumped and scuttled away like a crab facing a boiling pot. Oh, sister...
Tom was blushing and looking at his feet. “It happens all the time. Please don’t be too angry with her...how is Bobby?”
“Bobby is doing excellently and is a trooper. I will be back with you in just a moment. Just...give me a second.”
I flew to the back to find Kellie cowering in a corner. I took a deep breath, and spoke very, very quietly. “You are on such thin ice with me that if you so much as open your mouth, the displaced oxygen pressure will crack the ice and you. Will. Drown. Now. You are going to clean up all of this lovely mess to a surgical grade sterility. I will want to perform open heart surgery on this floor when you are finished. Are we quite clear? Nod if you understand me, Kellie, because you are on such. Thin. Ice.”
Kellie looked around here with dismay. It really was a disgusting mess, and she knew I was going to get down on my hands and knees and inspect the wretched baseboards before all was said and done. I was that pissed.
Claire asked quietly as we walked away, “What do you want from me?”
“I don’t think he absorbed anything. Tom acted too fast, the raisin wasn’t in any way chewed or showing signs of digestion, and it was mixed up with everything else. But pull blood for a CBC-SMAC so we can have a baseline for his kidney values just in case. Better safe than sorry. And then clean up this sad little urchin. I hope you understand now, young man, that crime does not pay...” He looked positively desolate, with his muzzle coated in the foul substance he had to drink and then give back. Activated charcoal really is the worst.
“I’ll make him presentable again. Back in a few.”
I took a deep breath and went to apologize to Tom. Oh, this was going to be fun...
I found him pacing the tiny room, looking at the posters instructing about heartworm prevention and feline leukemia vaccines. “Tom, I really must apologize...”
“No, you don’t. She’s young. It happens all the time,” he tried to brush it off.
“Not when I’m in this hospital, it doesn’t. I’d already given her explicit instructions because she was star-struck, and I will not have it. When someone comes in our door, I don’t care who is on the end of the leash, or holding the carrier. It is irrelevant. What matters is the animal. I give the same treatment and quality of care to the cat from the post office as...well...”
“The dog of some poncy actor,” he concluded wryly.
“Hey, I kinda like some of that poncy actor’s work, so less of that,” I griped, as I blushed and rubbed my forehead, mainly to hide my embarrassment. “Bobby came through wonderfully, and you were right, it was only one raisin...and some crackers, cheese, and what looked like some tasty cold cuts as well. What is great is the raisin wasn’t bitten into or showing any signs of digestion, and as it was caught up in his other ill gotten gains, I think it is safe to say he really got lucky...that, and the fact you acted so quickly. Normally, we’d be talking about having to administer fluids, and have him stay at least overnight to make sure his kidneys were not showing any adverse effects...yes, it is that serious. Especially for a little fellow of Bobby’s size. But he should be fine. I want you to make sure he has access to lots of water. I am having a full blood panel pulled to get a baseline of his kidney values now but that is really just a precaution for when you bring him back to his regular veterinarian...”
“You can’t see him again? He hasn’t needed a vet since we’ve arrived, and I never anticipated having to stay as long as we have...but what if he gets sick, or needs his vaccines updated, can’t we come back here...?”
“Tom, this is an emergency vet hospital, I’m only here on the off hours. My clinic is...well, not here,” I floundered.
“May I have your card, then? I’d really like for you to keep overseeing him...continuity of care, you know,” he trailed off.
“Uh, sure...” I fished one out of my lab coat pocket and gave him one. He looked at it and said, “What should I be looking for, what if he starts getting ill again?”
“Tom, I really don’t think...”
“I can bring him back here, I suppose, I just want to know what symptoms...you said kidney damage...”
“Tom, kidney damage isn’t something you can readily observe...”
“But what if he starts getting that look again, and starts pacing, maybe he’s in pain and can’t tell me...”
“Tom.” He stopped rambling and I held my hand out for my card. Like a child, he held it to his chest. “No, please, I’ll stop...”
“Just give me the damn card, will ya?” I all but yanked it out of his hand, and wrote something on the back. “That is my private cell number. Do not call it, ever! I hate phone calls! Text me. I promise I will lose the cell number you send it from. If you have any questions you can send me video or photos or whatever. Text me...whenever. But keep in mind he picks up on your cues and if you are nervous, he gets nervous. If you are excited, he gets excited.”
He looked at it incredulously, and before he could protest, I waved it off. “Just don’t...I did the same thing for Mr. Puddles.”
“Mr. Puddles,” he repeated dumbly.
“The post office cat...urinary tract infection...anyway.”
Those bright blue eyes stopped staring at the floor impaled me, and said abruptly, “Why are you doing this?”
“Doing what?”
“Treating me like a person.”
I looked at him steadily and replied, “Because to me, that’s what you are...you’re Bobby’s person. And...well, I know you probably weren’t supposed to stay here this long. You most likely want to go home, be with your family, what is familiar, and god knows what you are living in, some hotel or something suitably sterile...Right now, we all want to hold onto our loved ones a little bit tighter, a little bit closer. I can tell that for you, that’s Bobby. You love him a lot, and take great care of him, even to taking him to an emergency vet on a holiday weekend when the weather is gorgeous and your girlfriend says maybe you could just stay home.”
“She’s not my girlfriend.”
“Huh?” Such was my elegant reply.
“No, she’s wonderful, and we’re very close, but it’s not...we’re not...”
I hold my hands up in the air. “It’s okay, you don’t have to explain anything to me...”
“No I just, erm...”
We spent time admiring the floor when Claire came back, with Bobby cleaned and even faintly smelling of grooming spray, as well as being freshly brushed.
“Bobby!” Tom cried out, and even though I could not see his smile, I could hear it in the real joy in his voice. Bobby wriggled his behind and danced as he all but leapt into his master’s...excuse me, person’s arms.
“Well, that should settle everything,” I smiled.
“Just a moment.”
I looked up at Tom, confused. He sounded almost stern.
“I think Bobby and I could use some photographs to commemorate the great care that he received here...for our scrapbook.”
“Scrapbook? Really, Tom?”
“Instagram,” he immediately amended.
The buzz that went through the building, I swear was palpable. Of course, I even allowed Kellie to get in the photo, because I am not that bad...and if her scrubs were stained with dog vomit, well, you couldn’t really see. Much. And of course we all had to keep our masks on, so I personally thought it was the dumbest idea I’d heard in a long time, but I wasn’t going to go against the idea. I might have found three of my tires slashed and my favorite coffee mug broken, if I had...and I really like that mug, plus tires are not cheap.
Everyone took their photos, hugged Bobby, gave Tom an elbow bump, and he, Bobby and Not-Girlfriend went on their way...then I went back to my office, made sure everything was documented, and went back to my oversized tennis ball.
I thought everything was over. I could not help was smiling, despite myself. Not too shabby of a way to spend a holiday weekend, making a movie star dog’s throw up...this is why I went through all those years of school, I laughed at myself as I sat down with my frozen pizza and lemonade. I even made a bag of popcorn.
Then, at about ten o’clock, my phone buzzed. I picked it up, expecting it to be my mother, who sometimes forgot about this thing called “time zones” since she moved to Arizona...
Instead, there was a photo of a happy, smiling man, without a mask, and his happy, smiling dog. A text read, “To my favorite doc: Thanks again for helping me. Telling dad all about how the wages of sin taste like ass.”
I winced. I had no idea he’d overheard that.
So I sent a photo back of me. Without my mask, or makeup, or getting a hairdo, because in front of me was the best makeup job ever—my Corgi, Cheeks.
The attached text said, “Stop licking it then...and she says you are very welcome. I don’t know what you did, bro...but check your balls.”
The phone buzzed yet again, this time without a photo, “Thanks a LOT. Now I’m really in trouble...! TH”
“Sorry. Cheeks is still sore over that one. It happened about two months ago and he is still telling the world what a horrible human I am. DH”
“Bobby wants to know...perhaps Cheeks would like to get acquainted and play sometime soon? The dog park close to your clinic looks promising.”
“Cheeks thinks that would be amazing. He is still very much a puppy and has a lot of energy to burn. He’d love a friend to tear around with instead of trying to wrap his leash around my ankles.”
“Maybe...we could have some coffee while they wear each other out?”
“That sounds like a fantastic plan.”
“Could we say...9:00 Wednesday morning?”
“Yes, I’d like that. I’ll be the half asleep one with the hyperactive pooch, I won’t have hours until one o’clock that afternoon.”
“I’ll be the tall one...wearing a mask that is not covered with flowers.”
I laughed out loud.
“I think we will find each other well enough.”
There was a brief pause, and then, “Yes, I think we have. Goodnight, Cheeks, and Diana.”
“Goodnight, Bobby and Tom...it’s been a ruff day.”
And for the life of me, I am scratching my head. I am going out on a limb and guessing a lot of it is from commenting on other people’s writing, rather than people noticing my own...but, I know there is a small contingent of people that have been kind enough to comment, and care about my scribblings.
As such, I would like to do a little something to celebrate, and also something to help prod my creativity, which has been really stagnating with all the stress from current events as well as personal shit shows. I will spare you from elaborating on same. You are welcome.
I am fairly confident there will be a low turnout, so I am flinging the door open, streaking nude across the pitch, and plunging headfirst into the murky waters that have scared me for so long:
I am taking requests.
Here are the rules, such as they are, and they are boilerplate, so no one should be shocked:
1. No incest, no pedophilia.
2. Any of TH characters are fair game. Including the character of TH himself. I do not mind writing RP fic as in my mind, I am simply writing about the character of TH, the actor, not the real person himself. I would never presume that anything I write is an accurate reflection of his personal thoughts, feelings, activities, etc. However, I do try very hard to make my writings as accurate of a representation of his personality as I can, just as I would if I was writing the character of Adam, Loki, Thomas Sharpe, etc. I will also write continuations of situations I have already created in my previous stories, if you wish. They could be logical follow ones, or AUs...
3. (Redacted for reasons, and I am too lazy to go back and renumber the rest.)
4. I can write smut, but I cannot guarantee the heat factor or rating of said smut. You have been warned. Again, I will suit the situation to my skill level and how I feel it best fits the situation as it evolves.
5. Please send me your request either in the comments below or as an ask, you may be anonymous if you wish.
6. These will most likely be drabbles, but again, I cannot guarantee length. I do tend to run on...
7. I am taking these requests until twelve noon, EDT, Sunday, June 26, 2020.
8. I will get to these requests in a timely fashion. Meaning my time. If I feel l am stuck, I will inform you so you aren’t left hanging.
Thank you to everyone who has enjoyed my drivel and meandering long enough to hit the “follow” button. Even more thanks to those who have spent long enough of their time to comment and share their thoughts on what I have written. Every time I post a piece of fiction, I am sharing a mental playground I created, a place I went to play in my head to escape the world and enjoy...and while I have, and did enjoy it, it means so much more to me to I know that I am not the only one there...and when you let me know what your favorite parts are, or what you would like to see...well, that makes the playgrounds of the future even better.
They had all been sitting down to breakfast when Tom’s phone rang. That in itself wasn’t alarming. It was the way Tom’s face froze, his eyes quickly flitting to Liam, Aiden, and Liam again as he gracefully rose from the table to take the phone in the privacy of his room...and the determined, bright voice Tom assumed as he shut the door...
He knew it was bad, the way Tom tore out of the small apartment they were all sharing close to Sloan Kettering, before he’d managed a bit of breakfast, before finishing his tea, still sitting, steaming in his cup at the kitchen table.
Liam looked at the abandoned cup and plate, and his lip wobbled. “Papa left awf’lly quick, Aiden. Do you think Mama’s gotten really really sick again? Like she was in London? Because she was doin’ so good yesterday...she was, Aiden, she was...!”
Aiden crouched down so he could look into Liam’s eyes. “Your Mama was doing very well yesterday, wasn’t she? So let’s hold onto that. She was so happy, we haven't seen her that happy in a long time. She was able to play for us, and with us, and your Papa made sure she didn’t wear herself out, so it isn’t anything like that,” he was quick to add. “Maybe she does need some extra cuddle time, just like Papa said.”
And if it was worse than that, Aiden would make sure he began to take yesterday’s memories and cement them in the little boy’s mind, so he would have them forever. Because that is what Aiden did. He made sure that things lasted, whether they were memories, or decisions.
He was the one that kept things together. And he knew it.
His role began the day he found Merry crumpled on the floor outside the ladies’ toilets in the music building at university. He didn’t realize it at the time, but when he held her hand and said that he reckoned that he would step in and act as the baby’s father, as well as Merry’s mother and friends, it was the first step on the journey that was leading him to this apartment on this nippy autumn morning in New York.
He helped her keep her health together and keep going to school during a difficult pregnancy. Cheered her and supported her as she gave birth a hell of a lot faster than she wanted to, without any pain relief, even as she wept and cried out for some Tom guy right when the contractions were at their worst. Yelled when she accepted her Doctorate degree...and looked at her right when Liam was a year old and instinctively knew something was very, very wrong with his dear friend, and all but forced her to see a doctor. When she began chemotherapy less than a week later, he immediately stepped in and began caring for an energetic and bright toddler who was confused as to where his beloved “MarMar” was, as well as who this strange man who had burst into his life unexpectedly and seemed like he was planning on staying for awhile.
Despite his own mother’s vehement and violent disagreement, Aiden doggedly found employment close to Merry. He knew he was in it for the long haul, however long that haul may be. He was terrified it wasn’t going to be long, at all. Merry’s father passed, and Merry’s mother made it clear she didn’t care if Merry did, as well. Merry’s grandmother, bless her soul, had also passed, hence the animosity...but that was another story. At least Merry was now financially independent, and would not have to worry about her hospital bills, or Liam’s care. Merry immediately set up a trust for her son, and hired Aiden to be Liam’s tutor, caretaker, and guardian, with a much better salary and benefits package than he could ever hope to get with his experience and degree in any other environment. He was promptly installed in their household, and was a part of the family.
He was also Merry’s power of attorney for everything: financial, medical, parental...
In short, he held her and Liam’s lives in his hands.
He and Merry held many emotional conversations about this. Especially about her living will and desire for final arrangements as her health continued to deteriorate.
For all Merry was desperately reaching for any and all possible experimental treatments to prolong her life, hoping for the miracle that would prolong her life with her son, she was also practical in other regards.
“Aiden, I refuse to be kept alive by artificial means should it become clear it is my time to go. It would be unfair on you and Liam. I beg of you, if or when my quality of life is so poor I am no longer living but existing, please...let me go, my friend. If I get to a point where my mind is gone, let the body go as well...don’t have my son be tethered to a shell...”
The two of them sat with an attorney and crafted highly specific Living Will and Advance Directive Orders, in the event that Merry would be unconscious or otherwise unable to specify when she would want medical care and therapies to cease. Aiden was her designated medical healthcare proxy. There was a very rigorous set of definitions of what was considered necessary care and what was not, and when she would be considered past hope. For example, should she begin to experience multiple organ failure, all life support would be withdrawn, and she would be allowed to pass away in peace. “Life support” itself was given a set of definitions—unnecessary and invasive tubes removed, as well as machinery. A strict set of “do not resuscitate” orders were drafted. “Multiple organ failure” was considered three major organ systems vital to life shutting down.
Merry was driven, and exhaustive. Aiden was silently impressed. She was always very precise in her approach to her beloved music, which is partly why she was such a brilliant student...but it was the way she put so much of her soul into the whole of the piece that made her such a phenomenal musician. For this, Merry was the student: laser-focused, leaving nothing to chance. All she wanted was to be able to die with a modicum of dignity, in as little pain as possible, while keeping her wits about her as long as she could.
She had her funeral planned and all the money ready pay for the entire affair—a grim set of work, but she was determined that should it be necessary, no one be burdened at the moment of crisis. She kept insisting that there be as little fuss as possible. Aiden had to keep gently reminding her how funerals were for the living, and as she would be past caring what would happen, she should let him be a little more involved with these decisions. Merry was unaware of the DVD he had created that her son would dub The Secret Mama Movie that would, if necessary, serve in part as a video and retrospective at a memorial service. Merry and Aiden spent one never to be forgotten weekend going through photos and videos together, getting drunk on wine, tears, and laughter, putting together things Merry said she would like used for the service, and then it was all put away in a box that Aiden prayed fervently he would never have to open. It was placed in the very back of his closet, on the top shelf, in the very back corner. It was placed in an old Amazon delivery box, sealed with silver duct tape, but only one layer. Aiden figured if he had to open it, he wouldn’t want to have to fight with it very hard. On it, he simply wrote, “DO NOT OPEN UNLESS ABSOLUTELY NECESSARY.”
Aiden hand-carried the box from Baltimore to New York to London back to New York, along with the thumb drive and thin sheaf of paperwork. He never made a move without the papers and thumb drive, and while the box didn’t technically need to go to London with him, he wasn’t sure how the trip was going to go, and thought it might be best to have it with him. Just in case.
Now he was pacing as Liam happily played with a friend, waiting to hear from Tom to see how Merry was faring. He had received a confirmation that Merry was battling what they had feared, cytokine release syndrome. He and Tom spoke briefly during Liam’s nap, to coordinate how they would handle talking to Liam, as well as having someone be with Merry as often as possible. Aiden knew Tom would want someone with Merry 24/7, but it would be difficult. Liam would not take well to Tom disappearing from his life, nor should he. Tom would not want to distress Liam in that manner in any case.
So, Aiden would make sure Merry was not alone when Tom was back to make sure Liam could have his time with his beloved Papa. Not that this was a hardship. He did not want Merry to be alone either. If she was improving, that was one thing. If she was holding her own, but critical, no one would wish for her to awake but semiconscious, with no one to help ground her.
If she was deteriorating...
It would be a cold day in hell before Aiden would have Merry slip away from everyone unnoticed. No, by the gods.
It took a little bit of doing, but Aiden worked it out with a neighbor who was happy to sit with Liam while Aiden headed to the hospital to meet with Tom, have a quick exchange of information on both sides on how the day went on both sides of the hospital walls, and Tom would head back to the apartment for the night, and Aiden would remain with Merry.
The first night was difficult. Aiden had met Dr. Kelly Florence before, been introduced as her medical proxy, power of attorney, and keeper of her Advance Directive Orders and Living Will papers. He had already visited her numerous times before now.
But he was not emotionally ready to see her in such poor physical condition, even though he had tried to prepare himself as much as he could, and had seen her very ill in the past. But this was different.
He spent most of the first night holding her hand, talking to her.
“Merry? It’s Aiden, love...Tom is back with Liam, and I’ll be with you tonight. You don’t have to worry about a thing, so just relax, and rest. We’ve got this in hand, Kelly has got you full of the good drugs, she caught thus in plenty of time, so just take it easy...can you squeeze my hand? Let me know you’re in there?”
Her hot, small hand was lax in his, but it was so soon. Not even twenty-four hours yet. He was sure once she’d been on the medication for twenty-four hours, she would be so much better.
She wasn’t.
The second night, Aiden was so exhausted from not having had any sleep to speak of he spent most of it in the recliner chair he had dragged to her bedside. As before, he held her hand, and began the evening by talking to her of Liam, trying to find some sign Merry was still in the fight. Tom was distraught when they had met hours ago, saying how difficult it was to get Merry to respond to anything he did or said throughout the day, and her fever was proving resistant to controls as well. Liam had been a handful on the home front, picking up on the residual tensions of the adults, and was clingy or recalcitrant by turns.
Sometime before dawn, Aiden was awoken by a soft hand, gently shaking him awake.
“Aiden? It’s Kelly. Can you wake up for me, please? I would like to speak with you...”
He sat up with a crash, and winced, immediately checking to see if the noise he created when he flailed wildly in the chair had disturbed Merry. Kelly was resting between them, and immediately set about soothing him. “Relax, Aiden. She’s still very much out of it. I wish I could have left you to sleep as well, but I wanted to speak with you...”
His eyes bleary, Aiden checked his watch. “Kelly, Tom will be here in about an hour, and you could catch both of us then, ‘n’ not have to repeat it all...you know he’s gonna ask you to go over it all again, ‘n’ then some,” he yawned.
“No, Aiden.” Her voice was sober. “This isn’t a conversation for me to have with Tom. This is a conversation for just you, and me.”
It was a testimony to how very tired Aiden was that he didn’t understand what Kelly was trying to say. “Izzit ‘cause ’m here right now?”
“No, Aiden...it’s because Merry is now beginning to approach multiple organ failure.”
Aiden’s breath caught in his throat, and his blood froze. No. No. Kelly could not, could not be saying what he just heard. His pupils dilated in shock, terror, and the first crashing wave of what promised to be a punishing, cataclysmic tsunami of grief. Merry had come so far. Her body could not be failing her now. She had come so close to getting her last chance for life, love, no, for all of it...!
“What...what exactly are you saying?” He managed through gritted teeth.
Kelly’s eyes were very red and she was unashamed of the tears welling in them. She was never a doctor to lose her compassion, even though she had to retain her objectivity to survive and function.
“The fever is so high, Aiden. Her kidneys and liver are showing signs of severe strain and have since the onset of this damned thing. Now it is becoming very hard to maintain her blood pressure and her pulse becoming erratic. She is not rousing to anything but the most painful stimuli. She is not showing signs of overt pain, Aiden. We will continue to press on as we have been. But the terms of her living will and advance directives are very clear. I know she trusts you implicitly to make the best call for her. There are no decisions to be made right now, and if there were I would strenuously urge you to wait and reflect upon them. But...and I say this to you in the strictest of confidence...she asked you to make this decision for her if need be. Not Tom. You, Aiden.” She paused. “In any case, Tom is not ready to face a decision of this magnitude. Nowhere near ready...no one is ever ready, I suppose, to say goodbye to a loved one, but Tom...”
Aiden reached out blindly, and grasped Kelly’s hand. “I know what you’re trying to say, Kelly...I even asked Merry, once, if she wished to transfer everything over to Tom, and her exact answer was, ‘Oh, God, no.’”
They sat and looked at Merry in silence.
“You need to prepare yourself, Aiden. The time may come for you to...make a final act of love for her. It will be something I know you will carry in your heart for the rest of your life, and affect the relationship you have with Merry’s son, and her son’s father. You need to be aware of what her status is.”
“She isn’t in any pain?”
“She is not, Aiden. We are constantly assessing her. I give you my personal promise I will not have her suffer. She has suffered enough.”
Aiden nodded, his throat so choked he could not speak.
Kelly wordlessly took him into her arms, and let him cry.
When Tom arrived an hour later, Kelly had left word she would speak with him later about Merry’s condition, and Aiden was in the bathroom, having just taken a quick shower. Tom failed to notice how worn Aiden looked, simply because he was so exhausted and worried himself.
“How is she? Any better? I saw Kelly’s text, I couldn’t tell if Merry was any better or worse from what she wrote,” Tom immediately began.
Aiden shook his head. “She’s the same as yesterday, Tom.”
His face showed his clear disappointment. “No better at all? I’d hoped...”
Aiden reached out and grasped his hand, and squeezed it. “I know, Tom. I know.”
Tom reached out and hissed at finding Merry’s face still so hot as he lovingly brushed her cheek with the back of his hand. “Has she responded to anything? Have you spoken to her about Liam?”
“No, Tom...she is sleeping so soundly. I am simply letting her rest.”
Tom latched onto this idea quickly. “You’re right, you’re right, of course...she needs her rest. I won’t disturb her. I’ll simply sit and make sure she isn’t alone...”
Aiden gave Tom a quick, one-armed “man-hug” and left.
The following day, Aiden was settling Liam down for his afternoon nap, and allowed himself to check his phone—again—in the hopes of an update.
From Kelly:
Regret to inform you data indicates you are closer to having to make a decision.
With feet made of lead, he walked to his closet, and pulled out a box that had a single layer of duct tape sealing it shut, and opened it with his pocket knife. He needed to go through it all, one more time.
When he opened the sealed lid, he was surprised to find a envelope bearing a seal with Merry’s monogram on the back. “What...Merry...? This is not supposed to be in here,” he muttered, and carefully opened it. “Merry, I beg of you, I cannot take any surprises right now, woman, I can’t...”
Inside the envelope were smaller envelopes: one, her distinctive handwriting instructed, “To be read before you have to decide” and the other, “To be read after the decision has been made, and done.”
Aiden looked at Liam, sleeping peacefully not four feet from where he stood, trying desperately not to fall apart, and noiselessly left the bedroom, so he could sit in the bath with the door locked, his back against the door.
He opened the “before” letter, and saw it was dated long before he knew who Liam’s father was, but after they had settled the living will and other legal papers for her end of life wishes:
“My dearest Aiden:
“If I know you like I think I do, you are wondering how on earth I got these letters into your box after you taped it shut. To which I have to say: really, Aiden? Only ONE layer of duct tape? And here’s a hint that will serve you well in the future...ALWAYS tape the bottom shut, as well...”
Aiden grabbed the box and flipped it over, and sure enough: he could see where Merry had skillfully cut open the bottom layer of tape and covered it over again so it looked undisturbed upon a cursory glance from the top. He had to stuff his fist in his mouth to stifle the peal of hysterical laughter that was threatening to erupt from his mouth. “Honestly, Merry...”
Her letter continued:
“I am also willing to bet you are worrying yourself into a misery, trying to decide it now is the right time, or if you should wait...what is the best thing to do? What would I want? Are you rushing? Should you get another opinion? Are there other options?
“...and worst of all...
“How are you going to look Liam in the eye and tell him someday that you made this choice?
“Well, here are the answers for you, my dearest friend, because I cannot bear to think of you in such pain:
“—if you are even looking at this letter, then yes. Yes, it is the right time. Because you love me so well, you would never even think about making this decision otherwise. What would waiting accomplish? Prolonging it another day? Two days? A week? To what purpose? If you can come up with a real answer to what waiting will accomplish, then, perhaps, yes, put it off a bit...and that is the best thing to do. But if there is no reason to wait, then there are no real other options. No other opinions. And someday, you will look at Liam in the eye, and tell him you made this decision because you loved me so well, there was no other choice to be made.
“The last night you expect me to be present, if you feel that guilt will eat you alive for the knowledge of it, spend it with me one last time, playing tunes you know that I’ve loved hearing you play so well. Then kiss me, and know I will be watching over you until we meet again, and meet we shall.
“Love never dies, Aiden. And while I may not have been able to give you the same love I have given to Tom...it is because I gave it to him first, and once given, could never be taken away. Nor would you ask me to do so, for once given, can never be taken away in the full measure. You deserve so much better than an abridged version. You deserve nothing less than the full score.
“And I do love you, Aiden Forsythe. Thank you for everything that I have written above, but most of all, thank you for having been my friend, and for this one last favor. You are, and always have been, the one who has held me up, held me together, and most importantly, held and will continue to hold my beloved son Liam as I no longer able to do so.
“Meredith Skye”
The letter fell from between his nerveless fingers. He sat, for many moments, simply breathing, for he was able to do nothing else.
His phone beeped, and he looked at it.
From Tom:
Aiden, I don’t...she won’t open her eyes to look at me anymore. Kelly says she isn’t hurting, but...she doesn’t respond to my words or touch, and not even the incessant shrieking warnings from these machines jar her, and you know how she hates those sounds...was she this out of it last night?
Aiden responded:
Tom, I am bringing my violin to play for her tonight. I think that will help her, a lot.
Tom texted back immediately, much heartened by this idea. He was certain Merry would respond to that.
Aiden rose, found his violin, and began tuning it.
He arrived at Merry’s bedside, carrying his violin and a vast amount of coffee. Tom was seated at Merry’s side, his head resting on the bed next to where he had clasped her small hand in his. Merry’s skin was pale, almost grey, whereas Tom’s was flushed.
“Tom?”
Tom awoke with a start, and his head turned towards Merry’s face without even thinking about it. Seeing she had not moved, he sat up slowly, and began to rub the back of his neck. “Oh, Aiden...yeah, Kelly said they could shut those alarms down, there’s a central bank...no sense in giving both of us headaches and shredded nerves...so I guess I fell asleep.”
“Nothing wrong with that. I brought a lot of coffee, help yourself, I know for a fact it’s better than what’s available in the floor machines...”
“Ah, no, thank you. I hope once I get Liam settled for the night to get some sleep myself. If I have a load of caffeine, I won’t rest a wink.”
Both men conveniently ignored the fact that neither would be able to truly get a decent’s night rest.
“Liam getting to sleep for you alright then?”
“Not too badly,” Tom lied. He had been holding Liam in his arms until his son fell asleep, which was wildly contrary to his normal good sleep habits. As to who was being comforted by this new arrangement, it was difficult to say. Once Liam was well and truly enjoying the sleep of an exhausted preschooler, only then did Tom get up and leave his son’s room.
“Good, good...”
Tom looked wistfully at Merry. Aiden could tell he did not wish to leave her side. Did he know, somehow? Did he have a sense, an intuition his beloved Mozart was slipping further and further away from him?
“Liam is waiting for you, Papa Bear,” Aiden prompted him gently. “He can’t wait to tell you all about his walk this morning...the keyword to take away from the adventure is what Merry doesn’t know...” he stopped. He had been about to joke, in the camaraderie of men against women, nay, fathers and uncles and suchlike against mothers, that what Merry did not know would not hurt her, but found he could not continue. Abruptly, he turned away to look out the window. “He had an exciting morning,” he concluded.
This time, it was Tom who gave him the one-armed hug, before departing.
“Merry, your son is fine,” explained Aiden, before he turned around to look at her on the bed again. “It’s a well known fact boys need to eat at least a pound of dirt in order to grow. Scientific truth. Look it up.”
“I can vouch for you.”
He turned his head to see Kelly leaning against the doorframe, a tired smile on her face.
“Kelly, do you ever go home?”
“Oh, Aiden, didn’t you know? Home is where the heart is, and my heart is here.” She approached him carefully. “I saw Tom leave. I have not given him fact and figures, and he does not know to ask for them. He asks me general questions and I give him general answers. I have not lied nor misled him...but I have not been as painfully honest as I could have been, either. I will give him the unvarnished truth tomorrow...I am holding hope, for one more night. If it is foolish of me, then he at least has one more night of it...and if it is not, then why disturb him? He is already in torment.”
Aiden nodded mechanically. “Is there any hope, Kelly, or...?”
She held her hands up. “Aiden, I am flooding her poor body with everything I think she can withstand at this point...because there is nothing left to lose.”
Again, he nodded, and opened his case.
“Bless you, you sweet darling,” Kelly sighed. “Are you going to play for her, then?”
“I will keep it down,” Aiden promised, as he began to apply rosin to his bow.
“I’m not worried about the noise.”
“Then Kelly, I plan on playing for her all night through...a concert for one.”
The doctor’s eyes softened. “Of course. I should have realized. I will make sure you have the privacy you require.”
Aiden played...
Old favorites. Folk tunes, such as “Ashokan Farewell and “Scarborough Faire.” Older melodies, as Merry always had a soft place in her heart for Simon and Garfunkel’s “Bridge over Troubled Waters,” “April Come She Will.” The newer tunes that he always gave her a hard time about, but now had tears coursing down his face, as he played them as tenderly as with as much love as his fingers could convey, like “The Prayer” and “You Raise Me Up.” But it wasn’t until he started pieces from her beloved Lord of the Rings and the Hobbit films that he felt his heart truly begin to break. She loved them so much, but could barely play or listen to them after she broke with Tom, she had confided to him. She had played them for Tom...and now, Aiden was determined to play them all for her, as many as he could, even as his fingers protested as fiercely as his heart did. It had been years since he played so many pieces at once. But by the gods, he was going to play them for her...May It Be. Into the West. In Dreams. The Last Goodbye...as many as he could manage.
The tears were streaming down his face as he bowed The Last Goodbye when the door came open, and Kelly came in, waving strips of paper at him. He dropped his bow, upset. She’d promised him privacy. This was his chance to give something back to Merry, something she’d given to Tom and not enjoyed since, and now he was giving it back to her, and now it was spoiled...
Kelly was...throwing her arms around him, before he could even set the violin down. “Aiden! Aiden, you bloody miracle worker! Ever since you started playing, her numbers started improving, I swear to God, it’s like a miracle! You need to see these numbers, it’s...her blood pressure, pulse, her temperature, you need to see these numbers, Aiden...!”
“She’s showing signs of improvement, then?” Aiden was refusing to believe.
“Aiden, I’m saying the only decision you have to worry about for the immediate future is what you’re going to play for an encore.”
His face broke into such a wide smile, it is a wonder it didn’t split his face into pieces. “Oh, that,” he said. “Piece of cake.”
First he hugged Kelly until she squealed.
Then he broke into a gentle but spirited version of “Considering Hobbits” as dawn began to break across the horizon...
...and he saw Merry stir a bit, and give the slightest of dream smiles.
He bent down, and kissed her forehead. It was still hot. She still looked quite ill.
But he knew she was still in there.
“Love you, Skye,” he whispered fiercely. “There and back again.”
When Tom came later, he found Aiden running his hands under cold water.
“Aiden, your fingers!” Tom whispered, aghast. “What did you do, man, play all night long?”
“She seemed to like it,” Aiden replied nonchalantly.
“Did she wake up? Say anything?” Tom asked eagerly.
“Nooo...but I thought I saw her smile,” Aiden answered honestly.
Tom never did learn how close he came to losing his Mozart over those few days. Aiden never mentioned to Merry how he played his heart out that night, thinking it might be his last chance to be alone with her—knowing full well if Kelly was to break the news as they knew it to Tom the following day, it would take a bomb to dislodge him from her side, even if it wasn’t her last night drawing breath.
A year later, however, there was a changing of the guard. Aiden was formally relieved of his duties as Merry’s medical proxy, not that there was the overwhelming need there had been before, as Merry’s condition had improved drastically from Dr. Kelly Florence’s treatment, and she had never looked back. Merry refused to say the word “remission,” in fact she would become very touchy and cross if the word was used in front of her, but the truth was she had not had a reoccurrence of leukemia in over a year at this point.
Aiden, Tom, Liam, and Merry were living comfortably together, an odd family arrangement by any definition, but it worked and suited them perfectly. For awhile Merry needed to stay close to Sloan Kettering, but as time passed, she was no longer required to come in as often, and she was obviously growing stronger and healthier. Tom would come and go as his jobs required it, and it was during one of his absences Aiden approached Merry with the idea of having Tom become her proxy, instead.
“Merry, I am not saying I no longer wish to be your voice,” he earnestly explained to her. “But think about it. I am aware...well aware...of how very close you and Tom are,” he teased, for the sheer joy of watching her face color as he made his voice more suggestive and leered at her like a caricature villain.
“Stop it,” she muttered. “You came back very early, and Liam was at a sleepover...”
Aiden playfully bumped her shoulder and continued, “Just think about it. I will be your proxy until the end of time if you wish. However, as the situation has changed, I wanted to let you know I was open to the idea if you wanted to rethink things. I believe Tom could handle things better, since you’re now...”
“Don’t say it,” Merry interrupted him, pointing her finger at him.
He held his hands up in the air. “What I was going to say, Madam, was you are now enjoying a state of health where if such a decision had to be made, it would either come as a complete shock to everyone involved, because you had your head locked in some musical clouds and stepped in front of a bus, or else we had a long lead time, and we were all starting from the beginning again...in short, like anyone else in the world. No corporate knowledge required.”
Merry sat back on the sofa they were sharing, looking at him for a long moment. Liam was asleep, and she and Aiden had started watching a movie that had lost their interest about half an hour into the viewing. She tugged at her hair, a short curl that barely covered her ear, a nervous habit she had acquired now that her hair regrowth was just long enough begin to annoy her instead of be a source of wonder.
Aiden batted her hand away. “Knock it off, Shirley Temple.”
Merry growled at him, “I’ll show you Shirley Temple...” and tackled him.
This was new, this aspect of their relationship. Aiden had never known feisty Merry. Playful Merry. Non-pregnant, non-puking Merry.
Healthy Merry.
As they wrestled and battled for dominance with throw pillows, they were all while mindful to keep their laughing and smack-talking volume to a dull roar lest they awaken Liam and then it would be hours before they get him back to sleep. Aiden easily pinned Merry under two sofa cushions and smugly declared, “I win, Shirley,” and leaned back gently on her as she threatened him with dire retribution if he did not release her immediately...and “stop calling me Shirley!”
As Aiden allowed her to fight her way out, he reflected it was a good thing he had never met this Merry, because if he had, he would have fallen hopelessly, helplessly in love with her, and it would have been soul-rendingly painful when he realized she could have never seen him as anything more than a friend.
But then, as he observed her crawl and snarl, he realized something even more profound: he never could have met this Merry, as she had not yet come into being. This Merry was the result of everything that had come before, and he was just happy to be a part of her life now, in whatever capacity, whatever role he could be.
Merry settled the cushions back to their proper places, and ignored Aiden’s irritating smirk. For all that she had been laughing and growling and playing the game, her mind had never thinking about the proposition Aiden had posed to her.
Aiden had a definite pattern of behavior: he would think often bring up a serious topic he was uncomfortable with, and then deliberately clown around afterwards to lighten his tension and the general atmosphere.
As he had just done.
But why would this make him so uncomfortable? It shouldn’t, for all the reasons he just brought up. If anything, he should be happy. Relieved. Merry knew, logically, she was doing so much better. She knew her relationship with Tom was rock-solid. She knew that Aiden was also comfortable and confident with his place in her life, as well.
“Aiden,” she said, pinning him with her best “Mama” stare, “fetch me the box.”
“Box?” Aiden parried, immediately beginning to sweat. “What box?”
“Oh, don’t even, Aiden. The box in your closet with the duct tape all the way in the upper right hand corner.”
Aiden’s sweat was cold now. “How do you even know about...”
“Because that is where you’ve always kept it, Aiden. It’s at the very top in the corner, so no one can see it, and it’s on the right because it’s your dominant hand. So go.”
Confused but still feeling caught, Aiden did as “Mama” told him, because none of the males in the home was immune to the Mama-voice.
Once she had it in her lap, Merry flipped the box over and pried up the tape. She did not worry about being neat, and the tape came up leaving strips of the cardboard hanging from it. She seemed to take fiendish glee in the messy job. She did not want this to be a clandestine affair. She wanted this box to be as visibly opened as possible.
Aiden opened, then closed his mouth again as he realized what was about to happen.
Merry went straight for her envelope...and found it open...and found one missing.
“Oh, Aiden,” she whispered compassionately. “So, it was like that, then.”
She set the box aside, and opened her arms. For all that Aiden was taller, he still curled into her hug to rest his head on her shoulder. “When?” was all she asked.
All Aiden would say was, “Honey, the cytokine release...you were very sick. Kelly...she never told Tom how bad you were. But she did tell me, as your medical proxy, that you were...it was bad, Merry.”
Merry was very still, looking ahead of her at nothing, her eyes fixated at some point in the distance that only she could see. “Did you violate any of the directives?”
“No! I never had to make any decisions at all. But, we came close, Meredith Skye. Closer than I want to think about. When Kelly told me that you were getting to the limits stated in your living will, I opened the box. I wanted to read through everything one last time, to make absolutely sure I knew exactly what you wanted. Imagine my surprise when I found this envelope waiting for me that I hadn’t put in the box to being with...”
Merry’s face smiled, very slowly. “Did it help?”
“Gods, yes...Merry, I don’t think I could have faced everything without it. As it turned out, you began to improve that very night, but...the letter made a huge difference.”
Merry squeezed her dear friend tightly. “I am glad, for the obvious reasons, that you didn’t have to make any decisions...but also because you didn’t have to carry that burden. I am so sorry, Aiden. So, so sorry to have put you through that.” Aiden could feel her tears, as they fell into his hair.
“Don’t cry, Merry,” he pulled himself up, and wiped her face. “I am honored to have been the one who has been there for you. The letter you wrote me...I’ve read it until I can recite it, and I will never lose it. And I am not leaving you now. I will still always be here for you. You understand me, don’t you? You get me...right?”
Merry looked into Aiden’s anxious eyes, the same anxious eyes she looked up into almost a decade ago, in the hallway of the music building, outside the women’s bathroom...the same eyes that were terrified but resolute when her water broke, terrified but tender when she had to give that horrible last push to bring Aiden into the world, determined when he all but shoved her into a car to get her to a doctor’s appointment, unwavering when they signed the sheaf of papers in from of them...unhesitating when they boarded a flight for London.
“Yes, Aiden, I get you,” she answered.
They sat in silence for awhile, not sure what to say next, before Merry looked at Aiden, and grinned.
“You’ve always been the one to ‘get me,’ and now it’s your turn.”
With that cryptic statement, she stood and kissed his head, and told him goodnight.
Once she was in bed, she received her goodnight video chat from Tom: “All well back at home then, Merry?”
“Yes, Tom. Miss you dreadfully, and can’t wait until you are home as well. Only three more sleeps!”
Tom looked at his phone and laughed at her phrase, knowing well this is exactly how she phrased it with Liam earlier when he was tucked in...he hated missing bedtime/storytime with their son, but he had a shoot that couldn’t be avoided. “So, how many things is he racking up to tell me when I return?”
“Heaps,” Merry responded cheerfully, as she pulled and tugged at the blankets to get them just as she wanted. Tom sighed happily, watching her build a nest. How he adored this woman...
“We all are, come to that,” she added. “Liam has stories...and so do I. Even Aiden has stories. And we’re all going to share them.”
“Sounds marvelous,” Tom saw Merry was sleepy, so her added, “but for now, I think it’s bedtime for all little cellists. Goodnight, Mozart.”
She blew him a raspberry, and then blew him a kiss, as he laughed and ended the call.
Aiden probably wouldn’t tell the full story, but it was time he told his nonetheless, Merry decided. He needed to tell it, so he could close the book, enjoy peace in his heart with the closure, and begin to find his own story.
Author’s Note: This is my very first prompt response, and my very first completed Loki story. So I am quite excited and nervous to post this drabble for you. For me, the #Queen of Bloat, it is quite an accomplishment.
“Greetings, Milady,” Loki’s voice was smooth as it drifted down from the throne, and altogether too smug for her comfort level, even as she maintained her deep curtsy.
“You chose this,” she reminded herself fiercely. “No one but yourself has brought you here, and you can yet leave.” Still, her heart was beating so rapidly Loki could see the throbbing of her pulse in her neck, could almost hear it roaring in his own ears.
“You may rise,” he lazily instructed, and she did so, still keeping her eyes downcast, as was proper in the presence of her king, the Allfather.
“Come here, little one.”
Willing herself not to shake, she did as he commanded, ascending the dais.
“Now, what is this shyness? You must know why I have called you here...?”
“I do not presume, Sire,” she replied quietly.
“Look at me when you speak,” he commanded quietly.
Her eyes flew up to meet his. Soft, chocolate brown eyes met sharp green ones.
“Do you know why I called you? Why I selected you, above all others, to be mine? No? Of course not. Come, sit here on my lap, and I will tell you.”
She swallowed, and did as she was bid without hesitation, even as her mind spun like a child’s toy gone berserk with madness. “You’ll be safe,” she chanted to herself fiercely. “Safe-safe-safe. No one has ever left His presence telling tales of brutality. You know how to do as you are told. You’ve done so since you were a child. In these matters as in all things. You can do this.”
“It’s your eyes, little one. The way you look up at me...the way I can tell you long to please me, your perfect obedience. I won’t have to chastise you, will I? No. You simply...desire...to please me.” His voice dropped to a seductive purr, even as he held her chin firmly, forcing her to maintain eye contact that was uncomfortable for her. “I can tell, you desire to look away, but you have not yet, for I yet to give you permission. But it goes against your nature, does it not, to look into my eyes? You are unaccustomed to doing so for this long. Which is a pity. You may look down now.” With a grateful shudder she did so, and Loki released her chin, only to begin stroking her back. “My sweet little Dove. We are going to have so much fun together, you and I. Because you will do as I command, and I will enjoy every moment of it...and by the Nine, so will you.”
He set her down, and as he circled around her, his eyes narrowed. “Are you hurt?”
“No, Sire.”
His voice deepened, as impossible as it seemed. “Are those...bruises...on your face?”
“Please,” she whispered desperately, “please don’t ask me that, please don’t make me answer that, my King...”
“Ah, but I am, and you must.”
She closed her eyes as she opened her mouth.
“Open your eyes and look at me as you answer,” he immediately demanded.
As always, she complied without delay. “Yes, Sire.”
“So, yes, those are bruises.”
“Yes, Sire.”
“So yes, you are hurt, and you lied to me.”
“They don’t hurt anymore, Sire.”
“We will parse the nature of your truth-telling in a moment, pet...for now, tell me: who dared raise their hand, their fists, to you?” As his temper rose, the temperature in the room dropped, and she shivered, partly in fear, partly in response to the chill in the air.
“I’m not with him anymore, Your Majesty, I left, I ran away...!” Tears began to trickle from her eyes. “I promise you, I’m free to be with whomever I choose...!”
“Oh, little one...” He forced himself to calm down, seeing how his rage evoked such fear in her. “I am not wroth with you. Do you not know how I can see there is no real falsity in you? Oh, yes, there will be consequences for your trying to hide your pain, but I know well you are no deceiver. I simply would know who would hurt a woman such as yourself. What manner of...worm, wearing the guise of a man, would strike you? To what purpose?” He gathered her shaking form in his embrace, and warmed her. “Hush, now. Feel my arms round you. You are mine now, and you are safe. Never will I mark your lovely face. Never, ever fear me, do you understand? Not in such a manner. I may rage about. I lose my temper. I sulk. I am not always easy to be with, I know this well...but oh, my dear one.” He tipped her face up, and kissed her lips softly, stroking her hair. “I will please you. I will make you smile, and laugh, and you will never have to worry about a rival, or being cast aside. You are safe, for as long as you wish to remain, and the choice is always yours.”
He felt the tension begin to float away from her tiny frame, as though she was being purified simply from being held so tenderly. He extended his healing seidr, as carefully as he could, so she would not feel any sting as the blood collected under her skin began to fade away. He did not wish to see any remnants of past harsh treatment when he looked at her again.
“His name, darling,” he purred. “So that I may ensure he does not try to regain access to my Treasure again, once he realizes what he has lost through his folly.”
Feeling soothed, feeling secure, she answered. It made sense. Her previous lover could never make up his mind from moment to moment, which was one of the reasons she was perpetually confused by him. He wanted her, he didn’t, he loved her, he tolerated her, he despised her...if he caught wind that someone else, someone with power, influence, and wealth found her desirable, it wasn’t beyond the pale that he would suddenly decide he wanted her back, as well. It mattered not who the Someone was. And she could tell that wouldn’t suit Loki, at all, to find her past suddenly become her present once more.
Anyone could tell Loki wasn’t one to share. And her ex, well...if he couldn’t have what he wanted given to him, he was one to try to take. Hence the state of her face.
Although the current state of her face was being covered with soft kisses, setting her head spinning, as she was being lifted and carried to Loki’s rooms off the throne room, and his bed. She tensed. She wasn’t quite ready for this, although she would be, of course. She had learned this lesson.
“No, no, no,” he spoke, even as the thoughts crossed her mind. “I am not asking anything of you yet, Precious One. You’ve been ill-used, and I would not ask you to trust me yet until you’ve had a chance to recover. What I ask from you now is simply to close your eyes, and rest. Can you do that, my Dearest?”
She nodded, as her head was beginning to feel so heavy, even as he was placing her down on the softest bed she had ever enjoyed. The sheets themselves were like a balm to her aching muscles, the pillows as clouds...she was asleep before her king pulled the heavy silken duvet over her, tucking her in fast.
Loki had no reason to believe his new servant would flee before he returned, but he had not ascended to the throne by being complacent. He had also learned women could quickly have their minds, and hearts, change and turn against him. He felt no guilt about spelling her into a deep slumber. Not that he felt guilt about anything, anymore.
He had fallen in love, before. And he had survived the experience. Barely. But he was not game for a rematch. So he had instituted the position of Bed Maiden, and he selected them with care. One woman chosen at a time. She was always free to leave whenever she desired, with the understanding that once she left, there was no returning to his rooms, or his court. However, his protection was eternal, as long as their parting was amicable. He demanded complete obedience in all matters, and in no instance was he to be questioned. He desired a bedmate, not a partner. A sometimes companion. Not a consort. Certainly not a mother for his eventual heir.
Loki stalked away. Runa, he reminded himself. Her name is Runa.
Tom was doing his level best not to be overcome with his irritability, but honestly, Cara was just being unreasonable now.
Granted, he was the one who had been irascible on their last video call, but he was tired. Cara was refusing to open up (as usual) and passing off her unwillingness to talk about whatever was bothering her as feeling unwell (far be it from him to be less than sympathetic about that time of the month but he had to drag even that much out of her, which was absurd).
Tom loved Cara. He did, and she knew it, and he knew she knew it. They had been together for over a year now. Everyone had predicted the relationship was doomed from the beginning, from Luke to Ben to even his own mother. Not because Cara was playing him for a fool, using him for her own advantage, hoping to further her own career. Cara was a successful woman in her own right, a freelance author whose short stories had won numerous awards and was published in a variety of publications around the world and in several languages. She now had two separate anthologies that enjoyed critical acclaim.
The problem, as they saw it, was that Cara was so quiet. They attributed it to almost painful shyness. They all said she would never be able to cope with the demands of Tom’s career, and she would ultimately crack under the pressure, and drag him down. When Ben spoke with Tom about it, he was gentle, but firm.
“Look, mate. Even if she was never to step foot with you on a red carpet, she would still have to be able to cope with the constant pressure of the media hounding your every move...and that would be unfair to you both. You deserve to be supported, Tom. I simply don’t see this relationship ending well. You need more than she can give. There is nothing wrong with that. It is unfair to ask her for more than she can give.”
Tom had just shaken his head. They didn’t know Cara like he did. They didn’t see the way she made him laugh until he was holding his sides, tears coming from his eyes and his face and abdominal muscles aching with joyful torment. They definitely didn’t see the passionate woman who could set him aflame with a single look, a touch. No one had ever affected him the way Cara did. She was beautiful and brilliant and sexy and maddening and yes sometimes there was friction between the two of them...
...like now...
Cara’s quietness wasn’t a figment of others’ imaginations. Tom knew it was due to her unhappy childhood (no, he amended, her abusive childhood, calling it anything less was a failure to acknowledge her bravery, her survival) which made her very slow to trust. He quickly learned she still feared angry voices, and sudden movements made her flinch. She couldn’t help it. It was part of her deeply ingrained survival mechanisms. Initially he was deeply saddened. Then he was frustrated, surely she must know by now he meant her no harm? Finally, he recognized they were simply reflexive, and did not take them personally, but tried to adapt his behaviors to keep his beloved more at peace.
It was her emotional barriers that gave him the most difficulty. There were so many things Cara struggled to share with him. Her love was not one of them, nor was her passion, but her fears, her insecurities, her pains, she kept under tight lock and key. Tom’s emotions were as free flowing as a river in flood. Cara could handle all that Tom flung at her, his joys, sorrows, even his angers, as rare as they were...but her inability to reciprocate was a constant sore spot.
Hence Tom’s current mood.
Yes. He was short with her. He was tired and wanted nothing more than return home to London and be done with this interminable press tour. His current film hadn’t even been released yet and he was already tired of promoting it, which was a bad sign. It wasn’t the work, he was simply exhausted, he had been pushing himself for years on end, and he was feeling like he was finally reaching the end of his tether. He needed a few weeks (months) to regain his usual joie de vivre.
He was missing Cara, badly.
When he contacted her, she was subdued. She listened to him vent about the usual mishaps and frustrations about being on tour, and responded lovingly, but Tom could sense she wasn’t fully engaged, and called her on it. She flushed, and apologized, simply saying that she wasn’t feeling her best. Tom had to badger her (so he felt) before she would admit she had cramps. At this admission, he had exploded.
“Cara, why do I have to pull every single thing out of you? Jesus, woman! If you’re on your period, all you have to do is say so...! Oh, God, and now you’re embarrassed? You think I don’t know what a period is, for Christ’s sake?”
“Tom, why are you yelling at me? All I said was...”
“It’s what you didn’t say, it’s what you never say!”
Predictably, she was silent for a few moments, before she sighed, “Tom, you are obviously upset, so I am trying to listen to you. Telling you I am feeling unwell, when there is nothing you can do about it, will not help you. I am doing my best, but you are still upset with me. I don’t know what the right thing to do is.”
Tom’s lips thinned in frustration. “Never mind...I’ll see you in a few days.”
He ended the call without the usual exchange of “I love you.” He felt guilty about this later, but he was so exasperated, after all.
Then, of all things, Cara pulled this unexpected tantrum. After the video call, she stopped responding to him. No texts, no emails. It was most unlike her, but considering how difficult it was to get her to be open when she was upset, Tom was not overly surprised. It was their first real fight, and it was when he was away in the bargain.
So unreasonable, though.
It tainted his happiness at his return home, knowing he was coming back to a row. He and Cara still lived separately, which niggled at the back of his head. Something kept him from asking her to move in with him, and he didn’t know what it was. Was it her reticence to open up to him? Was it her pride in having her own place, an overt symbol of her own success both personally and professionally? Was it something less attractive, like the fact her house was only two blocks away, allowing him to maintain his status quo just as he liked it, without having to adapt or change?
As he stalked towards her home, the last option began to feel more and more likely, even though he was still annoyed, and he tamped down his shame. Thoughts of the many times Cara stayed the night at his home when he was feeling ill, out of sorts, or otherwise in need vastly outweighed the times he slept in her bed for the night, even though it was just as comfortable...and yet he wondered why she might be slow to ask for assistance...
He resolved to do better even as he reminded himself the current grievance was his, and just, as he walked up to her gate, and unlatched it.
The first sign that things might not be as they appeared on the surface was the full mailbox, and papers still sitting on the front step. Her car was sitting on the drive. Once more, Tom dialed her number, and once more, it went straight to voicemail. He gritted his teeth as he tried texting her, with no reply.
“God damn it, Cara, this is so petty,” he hissed, even as he looked at the mail. True, sometimes she did get so caught up in her work that she forgot the world outside, but this would be a first...well, so be it. She drove him to it.
He used the key he knew she had hidden under a planter and let himself inside.
“Cara? Cara, it’s Tom...I know you’re here...it’s beneath you to keep ignoring me, you know...”
The house was utterly still, and silent. The very air felt stationary. Tom looked into the kitchen, and saw an empty glass tipped over on its side.
That was not normal.
“Cara? Cara, where are you? Are you all right?”
He looked around and then quickly went up the stairs, taking two at a time.
He headed straight for her bedroom, and the first thing he spotted her her phone, lying shattered on the floor by the side of her bed.
The second was Cara herself, lying in a fetal position in the center of it, covered in a mountain of duvets and blankets.
“Cara?”
He rushed to her, and saw her slowly open her eyes.
“Oh thank God, darling, you frightened me...”
Her voice was very, very soft. “Tom? Is it really you?”
Her response frightened him anew and he sat besides her to stroke her face, and almost recoiled. “Cara, you’re freezing...” He reached for her hand, which was, impossibly, even colder. Her face was almost grey, her lips had a bluish cast, and her eyes seemed hazy, as though she was fighting to focus on him. He fumbled for his mobile and immediately dialed 999. “I need an ambulance, right away...”
As soon as he gave her address, she sighed, “I was so hoping to see you again...”
He paused, sliding the phone away from his mouth. “Of course you were going to see me again, sweetheart, it was a little tiff, that’s all it was, and I was being a right tit...Yes, please God hurry, she’s frightfully pale, very disoriented, her skin is like ice...”
“Tom...” her voice was barely audible now. “Tom...I can’t...can’t breathe, Tom...”
He dropped the phone completely, one hand gripping hers tightly, the other cupping her face to force her to focus on his eyes. “Cara. Cara, look at me. Focus on me, love. That’s it...now, breathe with me...look at me, keep your eyes open, Cara, Cara, look at me...in...and out...that’s right...in...and out...Cara, open your eyes! In...and out...do you hear the sirens, love? Help is coming...in...and out...Cara, look at me...”
There was the crashing of the emergency responders, Tom quickly moved to the other side of the bed, grabbing his phone as the paramedics pulled the duvets and blankets away...and then he cried out at the unhappy discovery at what was underneath.
He sat right by her head in the ambulance, saying nothing, but kept his eyes locked on hers the entire way, stroking her hair. She was going to be fine, she had an oxygen mask on, the paramedics had already hung up a unit of blood, and clearly they knew what they were about. Cara never once closed her eyes, but looked at him the entire way.
“What? What do you mean, it’s too late, that’s absurd, you identified the problem, you’re replacing the blood lost, so why aren’t you prepping her for surgery to correct the issue?”
“Mr. Hiddleston, you aren’t listening to me. She has lost too much blood. She would never survive the surgery.”
“Then can’t you continue the transfusions until...”
“Her organs are already shutting down. I’m very sorry.”
“That’s not good enough! She was conscious when I got there, she was conscious all the way to the hospital...!”
“And quite frankly I don’t understand how she was. Mr. Hiddleston, you have to prepare yourself. She only has a short amount of time left. I suggest to pull yourself together so you can say your goodbyes to her.”
“No. No. This is not...” Tom stopped, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Is...is she in any pain?”
“We are keeping her as comfortable as we possibly can.”
“Does...does she know?” Tom’s voice was choked as the reality of the situation began to sink in...Cara hadn’t been ignoring him, she had been too ill to respond. He was castigating her all the while she was lying in her bed, under as many blankets as she could gather, undoubtedly thinking she was going to improve on her own until she realized she was getting beyond that, she reached for her phone and in her weakness, dropped it. Tom never once thought to send someone to check on her.
“Yes. Her first concern was for you. She seemed to have recognized the severity of her situation awhile ago. Is there anyone else we should contact?”
Tom didn’t answer, just left the so-called “Quiet Room” and headed straight for Cara.
She was propped at a slight angle, with an oxygen cannula and quiet heart rate monitor in the room. Her eyes were closed, but opened slightly when Tom entered.
“Cara.”
“Tom.”
He noticed she was shivering. He looked scornfully at the thin sheet and blanket she was covered with, of course she was shivering, lying on that wretched hospital mattress. He toed off his shoes, and lowered a side railing so he could slide onto it and gather her into his arms on the bed. She sighed in relief as the warmth of his embrace and body quickly eased the shuddering.
“There, now,” he murmured. She was still under the poor excuse of a blanket as he wrapped it snugly around her, but she was in her favorite position, with her head cradled in the crook of his shoulder and his arm around her, one of his legs wrapped about her body. “Better?”
She nodded. Tom noticed her chest was moving in shallow, rapid flutters, and she was almost gasping. He caressed her cheek. “Easy, Cara. I have you.”
He then kissed her temple and whispered, “I love you, so very much.”
Cara struggled to take a breath deep enough to say, “I’m so sorry, Tom.”
“Sorry? You have nothing to be sorry for...”
She shook her head feebly. “I had...a gift...to give you...”
“You already did. You always did...Cara, didn’t you know? Every day with you was a gift...no one’s ever made me happy like you do.” He stroked her hair and fiercely willed himself not to cry, to keep his voice tender and warm and steady.
A smile crossed her face even as her eyes began to droop. “Made...you...happy?”
“Darling, do you need to ask? After all the laughter, conversations, and the joy I found in your arms? Yes, sweetheart. You made me very happy.”
Her eyes opened suddenly and she spoke as clearly as she did the first day she met him. “I don’t want to leave you, Tom. I love you, with all my heart.”
“I don’t want you to go, Cara. I will always love you. Always.”
He could tell she used the last bit of energy, last bit of life, to speak to him so. He felt her sink into his arms, nestling her head into the nape of his neck as she had done so many times before, and relax. He rocked her gently, and spoke softly to her, “I love you, Cara. I’ve got you, darling. I love you so. Be at peace, sweetheart. You are loved. I have you, Cara, I have you.” His cadence never faltered even as the tears ran down his face, the dam broken.
He didn’t need to hear the heart monitor become silent to know when her heart stopped and his shattered. He knew when he was the only person left in the room.
