#winter 5

[Oh Whibley, how far we've come... :') ]

Winter 5 of The Mess is all wrapped up and ready for you in a pretty PDF package. Find it via Mega here!

Through a nervous smile, Kathleen Rose confessed, “Sorry I couldn’t go out and get you a store-bought cake; I hope you’ll like this spice cake I made for you instead. Happy birthday, honey.”

Unsure what else to say, Kate squeaked, “It’s okay.”

Kate Rose was growing into a sad, lonely child extremely quickly. Her mother was already introducing chores and piano lessons. What little freedom Kate did possess was usually spent taking after her agoraphobic mother by isolating in her bedroom — in her mother’s old bedroom.

“He should be at work, but honestly? I have no idea where Max is right now.”

Amy Parker sighed in a huff as she sat down.

Richard Ward took a breath, then with his exhale said, “He had a lot of steam to blow off when I saw him, so maybe he’s still gettin’ it out of his system.”

“I guess, maybe, but,” she shook her head, “I’ve never seen him like this before. I don’t know what he’ll do. I’m really worried about him.”

“When did you last hear from him?”

“The last time he even looked at me was when he came home that night...”

“Max? We need to talk.”

He groaned loudly.

He sat up reluctantly then asked flatly, “There’s more? What, you have a third guy?”

“What about Ben, smart ass?”

“Aren’t you taking him with you? You know, along with everything else when you move? He’s small, he doesn’t need a big box or anything. Or maybe you’ll leave him behind too, I don’t know, I don’t know you anymore.”

“Max,” she whimpered.

“Night!”

“He slept on the couch like that for a week. Wouldn’t talk to me at all. He’d play with Ben normally during the day, and for a moment or two he actually looked like his old self. But the second Ben was down for a nap or something Max was gone too. And now he doesn’t even show up to sleep here anymore. I’ve left messages, but—” she shook her head and sighed.

“Have you tried his Dad?”

“No. Maybe I should, but, I don’t want to tell anyone anything until after we can talk to him first, y’know? It’s all my fault this got so screwed up, but I know that if we could just talk to him—!”

“He’ll come home soon.”

“I hope you’re right.”

Ben started crying loudly all of a sudden.

Richard jumped to his feet and was already halfway across the room when he offered, “Don’t worry, I got him.”

“Oh, he’s just dropped his bottle on the floor.”

“Nothing Uncle Rich can’t handle, hey, little big man?”

Amy watched Richard masterfully turn around a tantrum-ready toddler with impressive ease. The edges of her lips curled into a small smile when she heard the little squeals of joy from Ben when Richard tickled him. He just needed attention.

Max thought he heard a car door slam close to the house.

He peered out the window and sure enough he could see Richard’s car parked in the driveway.

Richard, meanwhile, entered the townhouse and looked around. Nothing was out of place, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that someone had been here.

It was the morning after Max moved back in.

“Uh, hey.”

“Max!?”

“—Holy shit, you scared me.”

“I don’t remember giving you a key. I meant to, I remember that, but I never got around to it. Funny how things work out in the end.” His deadpan tone gave his words extra sharp teeth.

“Oh, right!”

Richard excitedly unpacked the plastic bag he brought in.

“Cookies?” Max asked flatly.

“Check it out. Remember these bad boys? Feverfew butter biscuits. Only specialty shops carry them around here.”

“I, uh, couldn’t stop thinking about how we’d get high and eat stupid amounts of these things back in college. It was our favourite way to listen to music. I’ve been eating them a lot again lately, heh.”

“So I did tell you that. Huh.”

“What?”

“Forget it.”

Richard took advantage of the opportunity to study his friend up close for the first time in months. Maybe a little too much, because his eyes lingered just long enough to get caught.

“What?” Max frowned.

“Nothing. I was just thinkin’ how I wish I brought two coffees with me, that’s all. The beard suits you.”

“What’re you doing here, Richard?”

He sighed as he plainly laid his cards on the table: “I stay here by myself sometimes.”

“Phfft. Why? Lake house too big for yah? Figures.”

“No, but—well, maybe. It started a few weeks ago, but the rest of the story involves Amy and I don’t know how much you wanna know.”

“I wanna know.”

Richard did a drum roll with his lips. “Okay. Since you left, the stress of this whole thing has made her pregnancy really shaky.”

“Is she okay?”

“Yeah, for now. She didn’t want to leave this place, but she was given a bed rest order so she can’t keep up with Ben anymore. Her sister couldn’t help, she’s also pregnant with a toddler; her brother’s away at RBU, and we couldn’t ask her mom either because you were staying with them.” He sighed. “It was just easier for everyone if she and Ben move in with me temporarily. I hired help; I wanted to look after them like you would if you were me. I don’t know. Anyway. You know Amy, she still wouldn’t budge, so the compromise we came up with was that I’d still keep lookout for you by swinging by here when I could.”

“So, when I could, I was here. And since I was here, I cleaned up a bit. Played video games. Slept. Messed around with your set up upstairs. I called your Dad, hoping you’d answer if the number came from the townhouse, but ‘course you never did. Stupid, I know.”

No it’s not, Max wanted to say, along with some other things swirling in his heart, but those feelings were trapped in a heavy, voiceless vault.

After a brief pause, Richard went on. “Well, if you’re back, I can get out of here. Only—

—are you back?” Max made an uncertain pained expression in response, so Rich pleaded, “We really, really want you back.”

Fifty different comebacks flooded Max’s mind. Yeah, well, maybe don’t shoot me in the dick and see where that gets you! None of them good.

Richard conceded when he noticed a frown grow in concentration on his friend’s face. “Keep the cookies. And if you change your mind, wanna talk, or whatever really—”

“Change my mind? About what? Richard, none of this was my idea.”

“No, you’re totally right, my bad, shitty phrasing. I’m sorry.”

“You should leave.”

“I’m leaving, but—”

“I mean now?”

“Little big man goes into his little big chair,” sang Richard.

Ben Parker Green made sounds that weren’t words.

“He’s trying to say thank you, but he can do a lot better than that,” Amy laughed.

“Hey, what’re you doing up?”

“Can’t help it,” she shrugged. “Instinct?”

“Then tell your hormonal motherly instincts to lay down. Remember what Dr. Hill said?”

“I know, I know.”

“All this stress is bad for baby two.”

“We should probably start thinking about names soon.”

“Yeah, probably.”

Amy asked her toddler son, “How do you like it, Benny Bear?”

“I think he likes it fine,” Richard answered.

“This is a big change for us.” She bit her lip.

“Hey, we talked about this. Don’t worry, I got all sides covered.”

“If he comes home and we aren’t there—”

“All sides, Amy, really. You have to trust me.”

“I guess we have to, hey Ben?” But the young boy still didn’t answer her.

Richard checked his messages after carefully setting his cooled coffee on the hood of his car. There was just one from Amy: “Baby’s here! Hospital go now pls!”

Holy shit!

Max Green returned to the townhouse months later. It was nearing the end of winter by then, so despite the amount of snow still on the ground most people were excited about spring starting soon.

It was never supposed to last this long, he thought.

Max remained firmly unready for the unknown that waited for him on the other side of the door. But for now, he was here, and that was a good start.

The place was silent, no one home. Max felt more relieved by that than anything else.

The place had been cleaned, he could smell disinfectant in the still, stale air. All of Ben’s toys were put away too, including his highchair, but besides a tidy living area nothing else seemed out of the ordinary.

Maybe they’re just out?

One of the reasons for coming home was to get back to his music equipment in Ben’s room. He had a notebook overflowing with ideas that he needed to work out melodies for and he couldn’t do that at his father’s place. Well, that, and Beth had enough of the pot smell coming from Jack’s room.

It actually helped his mission that Max’s depression reached such a deep low over the course of the winter; he became so emotionally closed off that the only thought he had when he saw his gear and no crib was, Okay.

His shoulders lowered a little bit more with each empty room he explored. If Amy or Rich were here, he’d likely shut out whatever they had to say anyway. There was so much between them now that Max was pretty sure he would choke and die if he tried to explain his side in their mess.

But moving on has to start somewhere, and actions apparently speak louder than words.

Standing before his makeshift recording set up, it was his stepmother Beth Parker-Green’s words that rang through his mind: “We don’t have to talk about it.” What she said gave him the idea to sing about it instead.