FALLON
A FEW YEARS LATER
The sun is beginning to set, and I’m moving a little slower these days, but Benji runs ahead of me, stopping once he reaches our picnic table.
Every night I take my son to the coast so we can watch the sunset and stare in awe at the pictures Mother Nature paints.
Then, we wait until the darkness cascades over us and point out the stars we think Angel and Valentina are playing on.
He’s almost three, but this has been a tradition since we settled here in Italy when he was just a baby being pushed in a stroller, the village of Portofino becoming a place we’re happy to call home.
This little boy is my entire world, his mop of curls and deep brown eyes, just like his daddy.
It’s been awhile since we’ve seen or heard from him, but I’m sure he’ll call when he can. It used to tear me up inside, but now that Benjamin is three, it feels less like a job with no help, and more like exactly what I’m supposed to be doing.
He’s hilarious, and smart as hell, already knowing his ABC’s. Of course, his brain is all me, and I’ve taught him how to speak in English and Italian since he could talk.
He’s impressive, carrying on conversations with the older ladies in the shops until he needs help with a word or two.
I squint down the coast and see a shaggy haired idiot waving his hands in the air, and I nudge Benji along, allowing him the freedom to run to his favorite person in the world.
“Go ahead, baby boy. Get him!” I cheer, watching as his little legs take him down the hill so quickly he nearly falls over, but Oliver catches him at the last second.
They run around for a few minutes, soaking up those last few minutes of daylight before returning to our spot at the table.
“You’re glowing, you know?” He teases, placing a kiss on my cheek as he takes the empty space beside me.
“I’m hot, sweaty, and utterly exhausted from chasing your nephew around all day,” I groan, resting my head on the wood while I have a few moments of peace now that Olly is here.
Him and Benji are best buds, but sometimes, I have to remind Oliver that he’s the grown up, and tasting glue is not acceptable.
Yes, that really did happen, I caught them both tongues out with a bottle of fucking Elmer’s between the two of them in our playroom.
When we had to run from the States we never looked back, jumping from place to place until we found this little town, and it’s almost like a slice of heaven.
We own a big house on a few acres of land, with a small farm in the backyard, the dream I’d always wanted with Ozzy.
To save our asses, Lex bought our property back in Jamaica, using it as a rental house for him, Pepper, Vivi, and their one year old son.
He’s thriving with his tech business, and was able to get the cash to us relatively quickly with some offshore accounts that flew way over my head.
All I knew was where to sign the papers, and because of him, we were able to afford one of the nicest properties on the island.
Unfortunately, not all of us made it after their wedding, and it’s the reason why Benjamin’s middle name is Maximino.
With us leaving for good, and Lex’s happily ever after, Max slipped into a serious depression.
He relapsed, started drinking again, and his inner demons caught up with him. It was too late for Lex to intervene, and by the time he’d gotten there, Max had driven his car off a bridge, effectively ending his life.
He was so tortured, but I like to think he rejoined the family he lost, and is living out his happily ever after somewhere we can’t see, just like my two babies.
“Alright, Benny, let’s walk mommy home, she’s looking extra tired tonight,” Oliver says, holding hands with my son as they climb up the steep hill together.
“Can we tuck her into bed again? She’s so happy when you say goodnight to us both,” Benji begs, and Oliver’s smile could be seen for miles, checking with eye contact before answering.
I nod slightly, and when he says yes, Benji jumps for joy.
“Uncle Olly and I are going to take care of you mommy!” He squeals, lacing his little fingers into mine.
“You’re such a good boy, Benjamin Maximino Micheals, always making sure I’m alright,” I say, lifting him up for a big kiss on his cheek.
“Have you been able to eat, or should I make dinner, too?” Oliver asks, intertwining his fingers into my free hand as the three of us climb another hill.
“I made cheeseburgers, actually. I was craving American food.”
“With the famous garlic sauce?” He asks, nearly bouncing with excitement.
“Yes, Olly. I made them with the sauce, just for you. The smell made my stomach turn.” I smile, giving Benji the keys to unlock the front door.
We’re greeted by the scent of the pie I baked earlier, blueberry with fresh fruit straight from my garden, both of my boys’ favorites.
“Mommy, can I please have a piece?” Benji begs, and I oblige, allowing him one small slice while Oliver fixes himself a plate.
It’s not everyday that he’s here, always off on some new job around the island, but the nights when he can stay are always better than the alternative, and I can’t help but smile at how happy Benji is when he’s around.
He needs that male figure in his life, and when I signal it’s time for bed, he barely objects, filing into the bathroom to brush his teeth while I sing the bedtime song we came up with when he was just a baby.
Soon enough, he’s snoring in his bed, three books and one small snack later, and I can barely keep my eyes open as I shuffle my feet toward my bedroom.
It’s silent in the house, something I’ve become accustomed to looking forward to, but a slight creak in the floor sets me off, and I completely forgot Oliver was still here.
“Is he asleep?” He asks, hovering around the door as I catch my breath.
“Down for the count. Thank you for coming tonight, he needed you. I needed you,” I say softly, climbing into my bed as he shuts the door behind him.
“I know, I’m sorry it’s been so long. I’d rather have been here with you guys,” he confesses, and I nod, snuggling against my pillow as sleep immediately threatens to take me under.
“Alright, Fal. I’ll see you guys in a few days. Do you need anything, money, maybe groceries?”
“I don’t need anything, thank you,” I answer, but my eyes don’t close, not just yet.
“Do you need me to stay?”
“Yeah, I do,” I whisper, my voice cracking as he strides across the room, slipping under the covers with me.
“Fallon, he’s going to be home soon.” He says, holding my hand as he lays flat on his back.
“I’m so tired, Olly. It’s been two years.” I stare up at the ceiling, my thoughts racing at the mention of my husband.
I don’t want to think about him, not tonight, so I snuggle up onto Oliver’s chest, the familiarity in him lulling me into a deep sleep.
My body is exhausted, my brain spent, and all I want to do is feel comfort from someone other than my child.
It’s a shitty feeling, thinking you’re alone in this world, but tonight, I push all those thoughts away and let my body fall into a rest that’ll actually make me feel like I’ve gotten some sleep.
* * *
A loud squeak wakes me up, a sound that I’ve been trained to know is the front door, and I reach for the knife I keep taped under my nightstand, gripping it tightly as I pretend to be asleep.
My bed isn’t empty, but with him sound asleep beside me, all I can do is be the protector.
I hear the footsteps getting closer, and when my bedroom door opens I go still, hoping that whoever is here won’t hurt us.
“Hand it over,” a voice whispers, and my eyes open into dark irises that are only illuminated by the moon casting light through the window.
“You came home?” I stammer, tears immediately streaming down my face as I reach for the chain on the lamp.
Sure enough, when my eyes adjust to the light, my Greek God is standing before me, his face so much more somber than the last time I saw him.
It’s been three months since he left on a stupid fishing boat, traveling with a group of guys all in the name of making enough money for us to live comfortably.
I’ve begged and pleaded for him to stay, come home, or to quit, but he always claims that it’s for the best.
“I can’t be gone anymore, Bambi. Not when our sons need me,” he says, cradling his hands over my very pregnant belly.
Even at eight months, my emotions are wildly out of whack, and I instantly start crying.
“Please don’t leave again,” I beg, and he drops to his knees, kissing my hands and cheeks before he speaks.
“I quit. I had the captain dump me at the last stop, and I took seven taxis to make it back home. I’m sorry, Fallon. I can’t run away from this anymore, I need to be here with you. Fuck, we could be dirt poor, but we’d be together, and I finally realized the damage I was doing to our family,” he confesses, and I sit all the way up, pulling his lips to mine in a kiss that is desperate to believe in what he’s saying.
“Come to bed, please? Mateo is kicking really hard, and I think you can calm him down.”
“You need to get him out of bed first, we can’t all fit,” he remarks, and I sneak a peek at Benji who must've snuck into bed while I was knocked out, his light snores mirroring the ones Ozzy claims are exactly like mine.
“You carry him, if he wakes up he’ll lose his mind to see you,” I suggest, and he does, his eyes lighting up as he stares down at our son in his arms.
Ozzy is a good father, and a great husband, but he’s battling his own demons.
Fleeing the States was necessary, and we both know that, but it took a toll on him. He always hated going back home, until we couldn’t anymore, and it began to rip him up inside even as we welcomed our first child into the world.
It was as if a door slammed shut, and he wasn’t ready to be forced into exile, away from the only family we’ve ever known.
Once Lex told us about Max, he spiraled.
The guilt became overwhelming, suffocating, and he claimed that going away for a potential job would be what he needed to clear his head.
I felt guilty too, like maybe if we hadn’t left Max would still be here, but the grief wrapped its claws around Ozzy’s throat, choking him until he found solace in the ocean.
Working on the boats has absolved him, but it’s also stolen him from us.
Over the last two years the trips have gotten longer, the communication is almost non-existent, and sometimes, I don’t know when he’ll be home.
The last time he was here was for the holidays, and those two weeks weren’t nearly long enough, but I’ve been going through motions ever since.
It’s healing him, slowly bringing the man I love back to the surface, but I’m beginning to drown without him.
We’re supposed to be a team, but it hasn’t been that way for a long time. Hopefully, by coming home, he plans to change that because I can’t be alone with two babies, I need a support system. I need him .
“You must have spidey senses or something,” I tease as he climbs into bed, wrapping his arms around my belly.
“Oh yeah, why’s that?”
“I made blueberry pie today,” I say, and he hums with excitement, placing gentle kisses on my neck.
“I’m sorry, you know that right? I want to fix what’s important, so I found a doctor who prescribed my medication, the one I was on before. It’s going to take some time to start working, but I think it’ll really help. I want to be present for Benji, Mateo, and most importantly, to take care of you, like I vowed,” he whispers, his words stirring a whirlwind of emotions through me.
“I’d give you my fucking heart if you needed it, baby, but I need you here . Be the man I married, the crazy son-of-a-bitch I fell in love with, that’s all I want.” I turn to face him, shifting until I’m comfortable, and I slowly brush the curls away from his sad eyes.
I can see the truth in them, almost like I’m reading his mind, and he means every word.
If there’s a few things I can be certain of, it’s that Ozzy and I will make it through anything.
We’ve been through fucking hell, somehow finding our way back up, and even when the lows are real low, we always come back stronger.
It’s happened countless times, and I have no doubt that our love can transcend whatever this crazy universe throws at us.
Suddenly, I feel a pop, and it’s as if the powers above read my mind because I think my water just broke.
“Ozzy, I think we’re having a baby.” I scoot off the bed, practically dripping like a faucet, and sure enough, a contraction slowly steals the breath from my lungs.
“So soon? He’s five weeks early!” He jumps up, rushing around to help me stand, and I thank my lucky stars that we had company tonight.
“He wants his daddy to stay home, obviously. Go wake up Olly. He’s probably in the spare room,” I say, looking for the hospital bag I tucked away in the closet.
“Wait, Oliver is here?”
“Yes, he sleeps over sometimes, helps me with Benji, and eats everything I cook.” I laugh, rifling through the bag to make sure I’ve got everything.
“That doesn’t surprise me one bit,” he says, taking my things and looping his arm into mine.
Another contraction hits me like a wave, and it’s seemingly in my back this time, almost bringing me to my knees, but I dig my nails into his skin in an attempt to keep my balance.
With Benji, I was two weeks late and had to be induced, but Mateo is coming on his own. It’s a completely different labor, and I’m beginning to feel the nerves creep in, wondering what could happen this time.
It’s five weeks before his due date, and I’m utterly terrified that something might be wrong.
“You’re a warrior, Fallon. Just keep breathing,” Ozzy encourages, but in this moment, I don’t want to fucking hear it.
“I will strangle you with my bare hands if you say that shit again.” I grit my teeth, working through another painful wave.
At this point, they’re about five, maybe six minutes apart, and if I have any hope of getting drugs, we need to move.
I’ve lived through a lot of shit, but giving birth unmedicated will not be one of those things.
I want the needle in my spine the second I walk into that hospital, and I am not too proud to make sure everyone knows it.
“Oliver, wake up,” Ozzy whispers, shoving him gently, but he just flips over and repositions himself.
I do not have the time, or the patience for this.
“Oliver, get the fuck up. This baby is coming, and you are on Benji duty!” I yell, throwing a stray pillow at him as hard as I can.
“Shit, now?” He jolts up and rubs the sleep from his eyes, his gaze locking onto Ozzy in shock. “Where did you come from?”
“I quit the boats. Are you sober, can you watch Benji?”
“Of course, whatever the little man needs,” he says, stretching out and tossing on a t-shirt.
“Okay, fabulous. Let’s go, I can feel another contraction coming,” I groan, while Ozzy works to keep me steady on my feet.
As we make our way toward the medical center in town, I reach for Ozzy’s hand while he drives, and no matter how frustrated I am, it’ll always be him .
He’s been home for two hours, and I was angry while he was gone, but now that he’s here, that all melts away.
It’s our bond that tethers us together, the kind that withstands distance, fights, and adversity.
We may be fractured, at risk of splitting in half, but I have no doubt that we will do what’s necessary to survive the storms.
My only hope is that once Mateo is here – and we know he’s okay – we’ll begin to rebuild the pieces that have been broken along the way, and work to adjust as a family of four.
I refuse to lose my husband, break up my family, or relinquish the dream that we conjured all those years ago. I’ve never waved a white flag in surrender, and I won’t start now, not with something as important as this.
One night turned into one day, and now, I’m hanging onto the hope that we can survive this, one day at a time.
After all, there’s nothing more sacred than an oath.