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After: Name One Single Valid Reason


Nick

I climbed down the two steps of the bus to the sidewalk that ran in front of the house. I don't know if my heart was really pounding in my chest or if I just thought that it should be. Do hearts pound after you die? Probably not. I rushed to the front door as though I was waking up from a bad dream, and when I glanced back the tour bus seemed so far away and hazy, like I'd run miles instead of moments. I broke through the door - literally through it, though it did not break, it just was no challenge for me to walk through it somehow - and I looked around the house.

"ASHLEY!" I shouted. "ASHLEY!" I listened, and I heard her voice, talking, calmly, rhythmically. I rushed to the sound of it, through the living room... down the hallway... past the kitchen... these rooms I knew so well, they looked exactly like I remembered them... and there she was, sitting beside my spot at the kitchen table. All my kids were there around the table. I ran up, expecting them to all look up at me as I burst into the room. But nothing. No response. "Guys! I'm here! I'm here, look! I'm back!" I said. But still, they didn't look up.

"Did they get the shooter?" Leslie asked.

Ashley shook her head, "No," she answered.

"What!" Oliver stood up and I thought for a moment that he'd spotted me. "What do you mean no?" he demanded, "How could they not get the shooter? They shot dad in a grocery store, and they didn't get the shooter?"

I looked at Oliver. "Can't you see me? I'm here! Oliver..." I ran over to him, waved my hands, "Oliver, look at me, son. I'm here."

"No," Ashley said, "They didn't get the shooter."

I turned to Presley. "Sweetie... sweetie, daddy's here. I'm here, look."

"But there had to have been security footage," Oliver argued, "Something."

"Your father didn't press charges against the shooter," Ashley replied.

I turned to Leslie. "Hey Kiddo. Can you see your old man?"

Leslie was gnawing on her lower lip, but her eyes didn't register me at all. Steve Perry looked up from the floor, hers were the only eyes that landed on me squarely. She tilted her head to one side and sniffled the air by my feet. "Steve Perry," I said, "Tell Leslie I'm here. Go on, tell her."

"Didn't press charges!?" Oliver banged his hand against the table, "What do you mean? Why the hell wouldn't he press charges when a crazy person opens fire on him?"

Steve Perry barked.

Leslie waved her hand at her, "Shh, Steve Perry," she commanded.

"Your father just wanted to let it go," Ashley said quietly.

Steve Perry barked again.

"Yeah that's it, Steve Perry," I said, "C'mon, tell her I'm here. Tell her."

"Steve Perry, stop it," Leslie said, "Or I'll put you outside."

"No, no that's not acceptable that dad just let it go," Oliver shouted. "There's no reason on the planet for dad to just let it go when someone shoots him!"

"There are reasons," Ashley snapped.

I turned to Zoey, "Honey... sweetie..."

She didn't blink.

"Like what?! Name one single valid reason for Dad to NOT press charges against the person that shot him!" Oliver shouted.

Ashley looked up, her eyes staring right through me. Her nostrils flared with emotion, her eyes welled up. "Because," she said thickly, "It was me."




Ashley

There are certain things that I've never told any of my children. Even Zoey, who knew more than the other kids. Things that were mine to keep in my heart. Many of them were about Nick and I and the times we had before Zoey was old enough to remember, before she was born. There are some things that are just hard to tell kids, even when they're old enough, some things that they don't need to know about you, or that you don't particularly want them to know.

The story of Nick and I and Chris was one of those things.

I'd kept the whole thing about Chris from all of them. All of them except Zoey, who of course knew because Christopher was her father and she had to find out. There was no getting around that... Especially when... Well. It was just impossible for her not to know.

But the others didn't know.

And unfortunately answering Leslie's question about if they got the shooter or not was not possible to answer without telling them the entire story. I was planning to start from the beginning. From I met your father when we were eight years old playing Chicken in the schoolyard in Florida to the part where we said I do to the moment when Nick's eyes closed that last time and I'd felt that shudder of a final breath... but they'd interrupted me, run me off course from how I wanted to tell it, and now here we were... I'd said too much too quick and Oliver was staring at me, his eyes wide with shock and a sick expression.

All the kids - even Zoey - were staring at me.

"Mummy," whispered Presley, "Why would you shoot Daddy?" she asked.

Tears began to pour from my eyes. Suddenly the room felt very tiny, very cold, very cruel. I folded in on myself, put my arm on the table and pressed my face into the crook of it and sobbed.

I felt hands on my shoulders, rubbing my neck, and I looked up, expecting Oliver to be standing behind me, but he was still across the table. The moment I moved, the feeling stopped, and I felt more of a chill down my spine than anything else. None of the kids had moved. I glanced around.

"Mom."

Leslie's voice snapped me back to the moment.

I blinked. "I -" I paused. I had the weirdest feeling... like... warmth. I looked around again. "Do you guys feel that?" I asked.

"Feel what?" Presley asked.

I didn't know how to explain it. I didn't have words to put around it. I looked around some more. There was nothing. I felt my own forehead. "I... I don't know. Nevermind."

"Mum," Oliver's word was a plea. He stared at me and I could see him asking the question with his eyes. Why would you shoot Dad? his eyes asked me, Why would you take him away from us?

But I couldn't even begin to piece together an answer.

"I need to lie down," I choked.

"But the story --" Presley started, but Zoey shook her head.

"If mumma needs to lie down," Leslie said, "Then she needs to lie down."

"Of course you would say that," Oliver said, "You already know the whole story, don't you?"

"Actually I don't," Zoey said, "But look at her!" She waved at me. "Mumma, are you okay?"

"Yes," I said. "I just... feel... I just need to lie down." I got up, shaking, and hurried to bed. Because I needed to escape the feeling that Nick was there in the room.