Chapter 18

Memphis, July 1973

Bobby was lounging in Bill's living-room. It was too hot to go outside or even move much, so they had a movie on the TV and were sipping iced water to keep cool, when there was a frantic buzzing at the door.

He turned to Bill, frowning. Usually, when they spent the weekend together, they made sure not to have any plans, and didn't expect visitors. Bill's confused expression told him this was a surprise for him, too. Too groggy to move, Bobby watched the other man get up with a grunt and make his way to the entrance of his apartment.

The door wasn't even slightly ajar before it was immediately pushed open and a small silhouette barged in, running at full speed.

A lot happened at the same time.

A child that couldn't have been older than ten crouched on the couch in front of Bobby, reaching for Albert who'd been sleeping but immediately got to his feet to lick at the boy's face excitedly.

A feminine voice said: "I'm sorry, you know I wouldn't do this if I had any other choice, but Mom's just been taken to the hospital and I need to pick Dad up to go see her, and nobody can watch the kids…"

Then the child at Bobby's feet raised his head and noticed him. He had big brown eyes and thick, dark blond hair sticking out at odd angles. He seemed to have gotten dressed in a rush, shoes barely laced up and traces of his last meal on his chin.

"Hello," Bobby chanced, wondering what the hell kind of parallel dimension he'd fallen into.

"Who's this, Bill?"

Finally, the owner of that voice came into view, walking further into the living room accompanied by the clacking sound of high heels. She still wore her hair in the fashion of the previous decade, and was squeezed into a light pink suit set. She was thin, staring Bobby down with a stern look in her eyes, and must have been…

"Helen, this is Bobby, an old school friend and fellow doctor. Bobby, this is…"

"Helen," Bobby croaked, rising to a stand.

He vividly remembered reading that name on a wedding invitation.

"My ex wife," Bill finished with a sigh. "The first one, at least."

On the carpet, the boy was still staring up at Bobby with curiosity more than suspicion, contrary to his mother. So Bobby was a little surprised, to say the least, when two taller versions of the child emerged from behind their mother, seemingly far less enthused to be here.

"And," Bill continued, "this is John," he pointed at the tallest boy who now stood at his side. He had a baseball cap on, the visor nearly covering his eyes but clearly bore a scowl, and had his arms crossed over his chest in what must have been an act of defiance.

"Thomas," Bill said, pointing at the middle child, a boy with his mother's natural fairer blond and stringy hair, with scrapes all over him. "And Richard," Bill ended, getting closer to the younger one who now stood with Albert in his arms, studying Bobby from below.

Bobby cleared his voice, hoping not to sound too intimidated when he replied:

"Hello, everyone."

"So, will you watch them this afternoon?" Helen ignored Bobby to turn back to her ex-husband who rolled his eyes.

"I clearly have a choice, Helen," he huffed, voice dripping with sarcasm. "Yes of course, I'll watch them."

"Good. Here's some snacks for them, and don't let them watch too much TV," Helen went on, thrusting a bag into Bill's arms before turning to her children. "You be good, okay? I'll pick you up in the evening."

"Will Nana be okay?" Richard asked, squeezing the dog tighter to his chest.

"Yes sweetie. Now I have to go."

She closed the door behind them without having acknowledged Bobby's presence again.

Silence fell over the room, three pairs of eyes inquisitively fixed on him, as the awkwardness of what just happened settled over the adults.

"Right, um…" Bill stammered, and the last time Bobby had seen him so lost they must have been fifteen themselves.

He wasn't exactly feeling confident himself, but somebody needed to take this forward. He began by switching the TV off.

"Nooo," Thomas whined. "Mom never lets us watch grown-up movies! Dad, put it back on!"

Bill was already wringing his hands, looking about ready to cave after his kids had been there for less than five minutes.

"That movie wasn't very good," Bobby spoke, getting all eyes on him again.

"Why?" the eldest boy challenged, tipping his chin up so Bobby could see his eyes at least. Apart from the sports get up, he looked strikingly like his father at the same age. Stubborn, a little bit of a dick, and most likely hiding a lot behind all that.

"It was boring. I fell asleep in front of it," Bobby replied, throwing Bill a glance.

"Yes, uh, so did I. Alright, uh… do you want to drink anything?" Bill asked.

"Did you really know my dad in school?" Richard asked, still standing on the same spot in front of Bobby. The dog looked perfectly happy to be cradled against him, and seemed to be already falling asleep in his arms.

Bobby lowered himself back onto the couch with a smile, bringing himself to the boy's height.

"Yes I did," he winked at the kid, "and I have lots of stories about him."

Richard climbed next to him on the couch without even blinking or putting Albert down.

"Really? Was he good, then? Did he do his homework alright?"

Bobby laughed, and glanced towards Bill who still stood in between his two older sons, as immovable as a mountain. Bobby lowered his voice to an almost whisper, making sure it was still audible for the rest of the room:

"He wasn't good all the time, but he always did his homework. He was always very smart. You need to be, you know, to become a doctor."

Richard's eyes widened with more questions.

"Are you also very smart, then?"

"Well, I am a doctor, what do you think?"

Richard pouted for a second before nodding to himself.

"Yes that's what you said, you need to be smart to be one. I want to be a doctor too!"

"Oh," Bobby leaned forward, putting an arm over the back of the couch to get comfortable. "What kind of doctor then?"

"There's different kinds?"

Ah yes. Bill really didn't speak to his kids at all, did he? Well, if there was a chance to change that today, maybe they needed to get on it as soon as possible.

"Why don't you ask your dad?"

Richard knelt up to look over Bobby's head.

"Daddy? Is it true?"

"Of course dummy," John replied in Bill's stead, "there's too many diseases for one doctor to know them all!"

"John!"

Bill's tone had turned from hesitant to furious now.

"You don't talk to your brother like that. In fact, you don't talk to anyone like that, you hear me?"

"I bet you weren't a goody-two-shoes like him," John sneered towards his dad.

"Continue like that and we'll see what your mother has to say about your next outing with your friends!"

John stared at Bill for a long time, before storming off in the direction of the bedroom. Bobby spared a thought to hope he wouldn't get revenge on his things.

In the meantime, Bill looked completely defeated. Next to him, Thomas hadn't moved, appearing as depressed by the situation as his father was.

Damn, this family needed help. And it wasn't Bobby's job. He had no place in their little group, and he still wasn't sure about his one in Bill's life. But if he was going to spend the rest of his afternoon surrounded by children, he was definitely going to do something about it to make the experience something else other than miserable.

And that's when he remembered.

"Bill…" he called, and when he got the other man's attention, discreetly nodded in the direction of the console game box sitting in the corner of the room that they'd installed in the morning.

Bill raised his eyebrows, apparently considering something.

"It's not TV…" Bobby added.

Thomas followed the adults' gaze and let out a gasp when he noticed.

"Dad, what's that?"

Bill chanced a look at his son, and with as much awkwardness as you could pack in that sentence, he said:

"Want to find out?"

Richard twisted around on the couch to see what the fuss was about and nearly screeched when he noticed.

"I know what it is!"

Bobby winced for his poor ears, but still laughed when Albert was unceremoniously dumped, and watched the two kids make a run for the Magnavox console.

"My friends have been to play at the arcade but Mom wouldn't let me," Thomas whispered, running his palms over the machine in awe.

Bobby slowly got up and walked over to Bill, running a soothing hand over his back.

"I think you have the perfect opportunity to win good points, here," he slipped into his ear, and barely hid his delight as he watched the other man shiver.

"Should I… let them play together?" Bill frowned at Thomas and Richard who had already found the ‘on' button.

"Of course not! Get your ass over there and engage with them."

He gently pushed between Bill's shoulders to put him in motion, and watched Bill drag his feet until he had joined his sons, plugging the console into the TV and studying the game menu together.

Satisfied, Bobby made his way to the bedroom.

John sullenly sat on the floor, his nose plunged in a book that clearly wasn't his.

Bobby joined him, and held out a hand to get his copy of Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas. John slapped it into his palm, and Bobby made no note of his aggressiveness, simply commenting:

"That's not a book for you."

He was answered with a grunt. Yes, truly his father's son, wasn't he?

"You know your dad thinks he's useless to you guys."

John pushed his baseball cap to glare at him.

"How's that my problem?"

"It's not," Bobby shrugged. "You're his responsibility to handle. But you're reaching an age where you have enough brains to not actively make it harder for him."

"I'm not a responsibility," John huffed.

"Sorry buddy, but as long as you're still a minor, you are. Anyway, I originally came here to say I think you might wanna get back in the living room, unless you want your brothers to have all the fun."

John squinted. "Dad's never got anything fun for us to do."

Bobby got up, straightened his clothes, and stopped before leaving the room to say:

"Up to you. Oh, and don't touch any more of my stuff, please."

When he made it back to the living room, both Thomas and Richard were excitedly jumping on each side of Bill, who was trying his best to encourage both of them. There was a little too much screaming for Bobby to understand exactly what was being said, but at least both boys seemed to be having fun.

He came up behind Bill, and discreetly laid a hand on his lower back, feeling him jump a little under the touch. Bill looked over his shoulder, cheeks going pink but, to Bobby's surprise, he didn't pull away.

He couldn't help his grin, then, and did all he could to stop himself from bending forward and stealing a kiss. Now wasn't the time, certainly not in front of the kids. If they ever were to tolerate their father being with another person, let alone a man, Bill better get in their good graces first.

The pull was still there, though. And he hoped Bill could feel it too in the way he pressed his palm more firmly against him. He couldn't miss, at least, the way Bill's Adam's apple bobbed before he put his attention back on his sons.

"Are you getting the hang of it, boys?"

"Tom's not letting me win!" Richard shouted, and Bobby felt for him, the youngest of three boys having to compete with them in every way, an easy target for the other two to feel the strongest.

"You're never gonna improve if I let you win."

"Okay, how about this," Bobby interrupted. "We could have a tournament, right? Everyone plays against everyone until we have a winner. It's not fair for the two of you to hog all the fun."

Both boys turned towards him in slow motion, as if remembering he was even here in the first place.

"You're gonna have practiced with Dad all morning and it's not gonna be fair anyway," Thomas protested.

Bobby held his hands up.

"Promise we didn't touch that before you guys came here. Or just to plug it in, right Bill?"

Bill looked in between his friend and children with a confused air for a second, before nodding.

"Right uh, yes. Besides, we're old, we probably will have terrible reflexes."

Thomas seemed to deem that a satisfactory argument.

"Hmm okay. But I wanna start against you then," he pointed at Bobby.

"What about me?!" Richard wailed, and Bill scooped him up in his arms, huffing under the weight of a half-grown boy.

"You'll get your turn to play, okay? We can do the next game. That way you get to watch their mistakes and learn from them. We get the advantage, actually," he added with a conspiratorial smile.

Richard squinted at his brother and nodded, wrapping one slender arm around his father's shoulder and something in Bobby's chest melted at the sight.

But he had other things to focus on. The machine was waiting for him to start the game. He threw a defiant glance at Thomas who was staring back with the same energy, and they began.

The game wasn't excessively hard to master, although Bobby quickly caught on to what the machine expected them to do. He had half a mind to put his all into the game, but figured that with the increasingly frustrated huffs coming from the boy on his left, a defeat for Thomas would likely end in tears and ruin the mildly better mood they'd created.

He got clumsier and clumsier, until with a beep, the machine declared Tom a winner. The boy whooped and twirled to the sound of Richard shouting ‘my turn now, my turn!'.

Bill let him down and got into position, slipping a little smile to Bobby on the way. Bill made a very poor show of giving the game his best shot, but Richard didn't seem to notice, or even mind. Every time he managed to pass the virtual ball back to his father was accompanied by excited cheers and Bobby was truly reminded, for a second, of a young Poppy running around his own living room. No wonder the kid seemed to like animals this much.

Richard threw himself against Bill's leg as soon as his game was won, clinging to his thighs. Bobby shook his head. He believed Bill when he'd told him that he hadn't been present for his children, or hadn't known what to do with them. But there was no denying that this one, at least, was completely smitten with his dad.

"He let you win," Thomas scoffed, and yelped when his brother pinched him on the arm.

"No fighting!" Bill shouted, getting both their attention. "One, I did not let him win," he scolded, pointing a finger at Tom who sneered at him. "Two, you don't fight. With anyone, alright?" he added to Richard who lowered his eyes and mouthed something that looked like ‘sorry.'

"Can I play, too?" came a voice behind them, getting their little group to turn around.

John was standing behind the couch, arms crossed behind his back. His baseball cap was nowhere to be seen, revealing light curls on his head, and the exact replica of his father's nose.

Bill took one step forward.

"Will you apologize to your brother?"

John growled.

"Yeah, sorry."

"No no, say it to him, not me," Bill continued, pointing at Richard.

John took a strained breath then walked over to his brother and held out his hand.

"I'm sorry I called you names."

He was so much taller than the other two that the sight of little Richard reaching up to shake his hand was nearing on ridiculous, but also oddly endearing.

"It's alright. Wanna fight me?"

"Richard!"

"In the game, Daddy!"

John chewed on his lower lip for a second, then shook his head.

"No, I wanna fight him first." He was looking at Bobby, who let himself smirk, this time.

"You're on, boy."

He would have no qualms doing his best on this game.

Three minutes later, John was sulking on the couch and Bill had gotten a notebook out to keep track of the scores.

"It's a tournament, you see," Tom was explaining, taunting his brother from over the top of the couch. "So you'll get your chance to win anyway. You just have to practice more."

"Go away."

Well, Bobby supposed there was no way for the three to get along fine all afternoon. At the very least, they were all in one room, and nobody had gotten hurt yet.

Bobby beat Bill without much surprise, then let himself be beaten by Richard too, so there could be a semi final between father and sons.

Tom vs John: John

Bill vs Richard: Bill

Richard cried at his defeat, but quieted down when Bobby managed to convince him that as the youngest, getting those scores meant he was the most promising of the five of them, and he would soon beat all the others as he grew older and even smarter.

The three eliminated players brought chairs to circle the console and witness the final.

So it wasn't what Bobby had hoped to be doing on his day off. But ending up with one boy perched on each of his legs, egging their brother on to defeat their father who was smiling now, laughing even as he dramatically lost was…

It was nice, he thought as Tom and Richard hopped off his lap and he rubbed his thighs to get the blood flowing again.

"I think we need snacks after all this, right?" Bill asked, but he looked surer now, and wasn't waiting for anyone's approval when he went to the fridge to retrieve the box Helen had brought with her. Bobby and the children followed, John gloating about his victory and doing silly dances that made his brothers laugh.

"Um, she's only brought you fruit, it seems," Bill frowned at the contents of the box.

Bobby held back a comment about them being doctors, and Bill's hatred for anything green.

"Ugh," Tom said. "I want waffles."

"Oooh Daddy, can we get waffles?" Richard ran to tug on his father's arm.

Bill's eyes met Bobby's, who raised his hands in front of him.

"They're not my kids, I won't be responsible for their cavities."

Bill took another thoughtful look at the three boys, then nodded.

"Alright then, but you have to promise me something. We're getting this box back to your mother empty, even if we have to hide the fruit. If she finds out you've been playing video games and eating so much sugar she might not allow you back here so soon."

All three boys immediately went on a rant about being forbidden TV even on weekends, until they'd done their homework, and Bill explained to them, to their horror, that he didn't use to have TV even when he'd done his homework.

"What did you do for fun, then?" Richard asked Bobby when they squeezed inside his car.

"We had books, and other games like soccer. Sports in general. Did your dad ever tell you about his boxing days?"

Bill shot him a panicked look, and Bobby shook his head with a smile. Tom, who'd commandeered the front seat, sniggered.

"Dad never did boxing. Did you?" he added after a doubtful pause.

Bill sighed from the back.

"I did."

The car erupted with questions just as Bobby started the engine, and the interrogation lasted until they were parked in front of Debbie's.

"Were you really the toughest, then?" Richard asked, glued to Bill's side when they crossed the threshold.

"No, certainly not."

"He was," Bobby stage-whispered to him, making the boy gasp in delight.

"Well hello there gentlemen!" Debbie greeted them, walking around the counter. "Do I know you three handsome men?" she asked the children, and Bobby didn't miss the way John's chest puffed with pride.

"Debbie, these are my kids," Bill announced, laying a hand atop Richard's head. "John, Thomas, and Richard. Say hi to Debbie."

"Hi Debbie!"

"My my, what dashing fellows you've got. And here's Bobby again," she winked at him.

Bobby laughed, and followed when she led them to one of the bigger booths. He had a suspicion Debbie knew her flirting would get nowhere. Whether she knew he had other interests, namely in the man sitting across from him on red leather, he wasn't sure.

They were brought the biggest piles of waffles he'd seen in a long while. He'd forgotten one thing about kids, and it was just how much they ate at that age. The boys wolfed down their plates while Bill and Bobby shared one, alternatively pouring maple syrup or whipped cream on them.

Bobby sipped his coffee, taking in the scene. A month ago or so, in that same little diner, he'd tentatively rubbed his leg against Bill's, hoping to find out if what they were doing could lead anywhere. And he hadn't been disappointed.

The fact that he could still count on two hands the number of times they'd touched since then, and that he was actually sitting there with most of Bill's family was… Well, a little mind-boggling. But, ultimately, nice.

There wouldn't be a third chance for them to get this right. This was the one and only.

Maybe this was the right way to go about things, this time.

They stashed the fruit in Bill's bedroom to make the evidence disappear, and had to instruct the boys to stop giggling about it when they heard their mother ring the doorbell. A cover was thrown over the console, just in case. They could always store it in the bedroom in the future, and retrieve it for when the kids visited.

They.Oh, Bobby really needed to get himself in check.

He stayed behind, casually sitting on the couch reading when Helen came up. He couldn't help but steal a glance towards her when she found her sons happily chatting together as Bill let her in.

"So… you've had a good time?" she frowned.

"Yes! We played card games," Richard lied.

"And we talked about our weeks."

"And we ate so much fruit!"

Bobby quickly turned around to hide the way his shoulders shook with laughter. Those kids still needed to learn how to craft a believable lie, but they had time.

"Alright," Helen sighed. "Well, thank you, Bill. Mom's feeling a little better, they're ruling out pneumonia at least, and Dad's back home to rest. I might take the kids to see her tomorrow if she's still there."

Bobby swallowed, heart rate picking up at the sudden memories flooding in. He'd promised himself he wouldn't let the last image of his mother, weak on a hospital bed, be what he remembered of her. He unclenched his fingers one by one, summoning a happy memory with each one.

Holidays, when she taught him the prayers, and the smell of what she cooked then.

Her visits at school.

The birth of Hannah.

And the summer of 1938.

By the time he was done, the apartment had fallen quiet, and the children had gone.

"Are you okay?" Bill asked, coming to sit beside him.

Bobby nodded, looking away from his hands.

"Yeah. Sorry I didn't say goodbye, I was lost in my thoughts."

"Don't be sorry," Bill shook his head. "I wouldn't have managed today without you."

"You would have."

Bill shrugged, his mouth taking a downward arc. Bobby let his head fall back, staring at the ceiling. As much fun as the boys had turned out to be, he didn't mind the quiet.

"I do love them," Bill broke the silence, his gaze firmly fixed on the nearest window. His voice was shaky, raw. "It's just… it's exhausting having to split my attention between all of them. I do better when I can look after them one at a time. And… I never truly know what to do. They're not like me at their age, things have changed so much and I'm lost. Do they want books, do they want to go outside, do they want to be left alone…?"

Bobby let the silence settle again, patiently waiting to see if Bill had finished or if he had more to say. When he didn't add anything, Bobby turned on the couch, folding his knees against his chest so he could fit on there and still look at Bill.

"You know, they probably all want very different things. There's not… one generic activity that will satisfy them three, or, well maybe except for what we did today," he chuckled. "So you're on the right track, wanting to spend time one on one to get to know who they are as persons. Besides, you've got two boys, and a teenager now. He's gonna change really fast and if you're not there to see it you'll miss him."

Bill's eyebrows arched and his breathing stuttered.

"How do you know all this? You don't have any kids of your own."

At last, the other man turned to look at Bobby, suddenly apologetic.

"Sorry, that came out wrong, I didn't mean…"

"It's okay. I know what you meant. I just am around kids and I think it's easier for me without all the pressure of being a good dad, you know? I only have to be an uncle, or the cool friend of their parents'," he smiled, but Bill's face brutally soured.

"That's…"

The air seemed to barely come in, now, and Bobby wondered if he'd have to use his old trick to pull Bill out of whatever frenzy he was working himself into.

"I'm terrified, actually," Bill rasped, "that I might turn out… like him. Like my…"

Father. The fact that he couldn't even say the word spoke volumes. Bobby reached out a hand, and hid his surprise when Bill took it easily.

"You're not," Bobby whispered. "The simple fact that you're asking yourself all these questions…"

"Every time I shout at them I can hear his voice," Bill winced, squeezing Bobby's fingers too tight. "I think I even sound like him these days."

He was properly shaking now, and Bobby unraveled his legs to kneel on the couch and pull Bill closer, even as he continued rambling.

"I just… I'm scared one day I'll get too angry and hit them. I'd rather they have an absent dad than…"

A violent one. Bobby slipped a hand through Bill's hair again, like they'd done in the valley, months ago.

"I know. I can't imagine how hard it is to have to bear those memories while you try to do better. But listen. No matter how tough, they're here now. And they need you, contrary to what you've convinced yourself of. I saw them with you today. They love you. Richard seems to look up to you like a semi-god. Tom and John… They're older, and they're acting tough, because that's what they think is expected of them, probably even from you. And you remember what it was like, being their age? Everything changing so fast, body and mind, one day you're playing ball and the next you're expected to make all these big, life-changing decisions."

Bill rested his head on Bobby's shoulders, slight tremors jerking his hand in Bobby's.

"And that's why they need you now," Bobby continued. "But it doesn't mean you have to do it all alone. I don't know how Helen is, but talk to her. And talk to your boys. All that you've told me, they probably could do with hearing it too."

Bill recoiled at the suggestion.

"I don't want to tell them about my childhood."

"No, not that. Although maybe in a few years you know, it could help them understand a few things. The other thing? That you love them? That you want to be better but you don't know what they need? Tell them. Everything will be better for it."

Of all the ways their day could have ended, Bobby didn't expect Bill to press himself more fully against him, his breathing slowly returning to normal. He certainly hadn't expected to have his nose pressed into Bill's hair, and to be cursing himself for it.

He'd been sliding down a slippery slope for months. Since the first time they saw each other again in Houston, if he was honest with himself. Bill had always had that magnetic pull on him, and once more, he was unwilling to resist it. He just hoped they could find a better outcome for the both of them, this time.

"You'll be okay," he whispered, a few strands of hair tickling his mouth.

"Thank you," Bill replied, and surprised him with his next words. "I think today… today was the best day I've had in many years. And all…" his voice broke then, leaving him quivering again.

Bobby kept on petting his hair, ignoring the way his heart was somersaulting inside his chest. He could deal with his own foolishness later.

"All the best ones have been with you," Bill ended.

Bobby closed his eyes. He remembered. Mine too, he wanted to say, and could have listed them all. That day in the snow. Reading together in their dorm room. Graduations. Bill joining him in med school and their study sessions, that grew to end in making-out ones over the years.

Not all the days with Bill had been good. But all the best had been with him, too.

He kept the words hidden inside, for now. Hoping they would have time for them another day. In the near future, if all went well, and he didn't end up picking up the shattered remains of his own heart again.