MAVERICK NEEDED MORE beer. He swallowed his last and crushed the can in his hand. Seated in the recliner for hours, he hadn’t realized that time had slipped by. Still, the more he drank, the more he sat. And then he was empty. There was no beer or questions about the past to ask. He had all the answers. Depressed, Maverick dropped the footrest to the chair and tried to stand, but his legs would not obey the command. He went down hard face first.
“The beer won’t help,” a voice said. Maverick didn’t bother to lift his head. He saw feet. There were toes that she’d make him paint and repaint as they counted down the days before the baby was born. He was depressed, not crazy. The beer was the only reason he could bring her ghost back to him. If he had some tequila with the beer, she’d probably come with Camille at her side.
“You have a beautiful son. He’s so adorable,” Melissa said.
“He should have been ours,” Maverick mumbled and tried to push up with his hands. He crashed again. “You should have been a mother.”
“I am a mother, Maverick,” Melissa said. He rolled over to his back and stared up at her. She was not as he typically saw her in his dreams. She was in regular clothes with an infant in her arms. “Our baby girl is with me.”
“The baby, it’s not mine, it’s not ours. That crazy bastard gave you his sperm and took mine and gave it to Delilah and her son of a bitch husband—.” Maverick squeezed his eyes shut. “The baby is not ours.”
“Go away! Get out of my head!” He put his hands to his head and squeezed his eyes shut until the sound of her voice was gone. He felt the smooth touch of Camille’s hand caress his chest. He lowered his hands from his ears. He opened his eyes. Camille stooped to reach him. She was in full police uniform. He hadn’t seen her dressed that way since her field duty. She forced him to sit up like a kind officer would. And she hugged him. It felt real.
“Nightmares?” she whispered in his ear.
“Is it Melissa again?” she asked while holding him. Maverick wept in her arms, and she held him tight to her. Camille was always there. She fought to keep him on the force and sane. In the end, he failed her too. It was Maverick who sent her to the warehouse that night without making sure she wouldn’t be in danger. His decision to let her go with Steven and Alejandro instead of going himself was one of the worst decisions he ever made as an officer and a friend. Or was it? Deciding to do fertility with Melissa sent his entire life on a downward spiral. For every thought, there was guilt and consequence. He just wanted his brain to stop remembering.
“None of this is true. You’re not real. Nothing you say is real,” Maverick closed his eyes to force her out.
“I should have caught that bullet instead of you,” he reasoned.
“Oh, you did. You caught a chest full of bullets—the whole world against you.” Camille hugged him around the neck and cried. He hugged her. “Forgive yourself, Maverick. Please. Let me rest in peace. Let us both go.”
“I’m trying. I’m trying so hard,” Maverick wept and turned over, crying in his drunken stupor. He remained on the floor weeping, unable to distinguish fantasy from reality. Trying to hold desperately on to the love that was gone.
“COME NOAH,” DELILAH said. “Come, come, come!”
Noah stomped in the snow. “Come, come, come!” he repeated. His jumper covered him like an Eskimo baby. He smiled when his mother reached for him and ran into the snow, falling over face first. Delilah sighed. Noah pushed himself up and dusted his face with his mittens. Delilah carried the dessert she made for after dinner. Her famous peach cobbler. Goodiva and Queen loved it. The first time she made it for them as a child, they all licked the bowl clean. Her secret ingredient was the Lime Sprite Delilah poured over it before putting it in the oven. For Maverick, she brought a container of ice cream sitting on top of the dish. Careful of balancing the two, she had to watch where she stepped and keep an eye on her wandering snow man.
“Please, baby, MavBic is waiting on us,” she said. Noah looked up at the mention of his new friend and then walked right past his mother toward the door. He reached for the handle. She had to balance the desert to help him turn it, and she struggled. She kicked at the entrance to knock on the door instead. Maverick didn’t answer.
“He must be out on the outside at the grill?”
“Daddy!” Noah hit the door. “Daddy!”
Delilah looked down at Noah. “What did you say?”
Noah hit the door again with his hand. She had never heard Noah say the word, Daddy, before. He said Da-Da often as a baby. But he never said, Daddy. She balanced the tray with one arm and tried the door again to find it was locked. “Darn it.”
“Darn it!” Noah said and looked up at her.
“Come on,” she said.
“Come on,” Noah agreed.
Noah followed his mother. She was careful to go slow to allow him to keep up. The snow was soft and not covered in ice. Her little man marched behind her, taking significant steps to keep up with her. He was growing so fast and smart.
When they came around, the cottage Delilah paused. The grill was covered. There was no sign of Maverick. She stepped to the patio door and peered inside. She saw his foot, but the sofa obstructed her view of him. Shifting the tray of cobbler and a pint of ice cream in her arms, she pulled on the glass door. To her relief, it was open. Noah pushed past her legs and ran inside. Delilah closed the door and put the cobbler on the table before going after him. When she turned the corner, she saw Maverick sprawled on the floor with crushed beer cans around him. Noah sat on his father’s back and tried to ride him like a horse. He thought it was a game.
Delilah knew differently.
“Maverick? Come here, Noah. Get off him.”
Maverick didn’t move. He didn’t seem to know they were with him.
“Noah, get off him, honey,” she said and picked him up. Noah began to protest. The noise startled Maverick, and he flipped over and shouted something she couldn’t discern. It surprised her and terrified Noah. Delilah couldn't move because Noah clung to her neck and stiffened in her arms. Maverick eyes were barely open. He looked as if he didn’t know who they were. Delilah stepped back and away with caution.
“What do you want?” Maverick asked as he sat upright and touched his head.
“You’re drunk,” Delilah said. Maverick looked up at her and then to Noah. He looked around at the empty beer cans. Everything crashed on him at once, the video, the story of Melissa’s experimentation, all of it was real—including his relapse. How long was I asleep?
“I didn’t mean to scare you or Noah.” He wiped at his dry mouth.
“We should leave,” Delilah backed further away from him.
“Wait. I’m sorry, Delilah. Give me a minute. I promise I’ll fix this.”
Delilah didn’t bother to listen; she turned and walked straight for the door with Noah wailing in her arms. There was no way to undo the harm. He’d got drunk on his second day with them. Maverick scrambled to stand but tripped over himself and fell again to his knees. Delilah’s head turned, and she looked upon him with pity. Her holding Noah became an even more formidable challenge as the tot bent backward in her arms in full distress. She set him down, and Noah stood there crying with his arms up, reaching for her. Delilah went to Maverick to offer help. He had to rely on her assistance to stand straight.