A New Way of Living

Chapter Thirty-Five/Epilogue

Author's Note: I do not own West Side Story or any elements of it.

Time moved by both painfully quickly and blissfully slow.

It was quick on nights where Riff worked late and ran home in time to help put Sean to bed before rushing off for some Jet-related business, sneaking in quick kisses with Vivienne in-between. It moved slow on days where they had nothing to do but sit on their couch, laying in the sun as it poured through the window, time marked only by the small growths that Sean showed. 

As summer moved to fall, the leaves turned dark colours and began to fall. This soon turned to winter, the air becoming crisp and frosty, fogging up their windows. On these days, Riff had to wake and dress in the dark, hating to leave.

He hated the work, but liked the job. He hated having someone to tell him what to do, someone to answer to. But Diesel was often there too, and after a while he found that he was pretty good at it if he cared enough to listen to him. At the end of the day, when he returned home with oil stains on his skin and clothes, his fingers bruised from fiddling screws into tight places, Vivienne kissed his hands and held him - he always reminded himself then what he was doing it all for.

During these months, they both watched as Sean became more of a person. Leaning to hold his head up, reaching for things, reacting to them more. His squeaks and squeals became more pointed, more frequent, and they decided he was just like Riff - he had a real big mouth on him.

It was a tiring life. They always found themselves heavy with the lack of sleep, or from pressure of the responsibility that they now shared. It was often hard, always exhausting, but there were days that gave them such happiness that they would never have dreamed possible.

The Jets were around frequently and Riff grew assured and grateful with the knowledge that if anything were to happen to him, they would be around for his family.

Ice came over often, talking with Riff late into the night to seek advice and guidance, even though he didn't need it. 

Soon, the spring flowers began to grow and the sun was different - warmer, kinder. Sometimes Vivienne would take Sean to the park and wait for Riff to come by on his lunch breaks, where he would sit with them both until the last possible moment.

On one of these days, when they were waiting for the Jets and their girls to show, Sean lay across Riff's chest as they lay in the grass, giggling and laughing in a high-pitch as Riff gently wiggled him around, reaching down to tickle at his sides. 

Riff turned to look at Vivienne.

"Guess we'd better get hitched, huh?" he asked, smirking up towards her.

"Oh, we'd better?" she repeated, quirking a teasing brow. "You got a ring?"

"Not yet."

Vivienne looked thoughtful and settled herself down beside him in the grass.

"Don't worry about it, Riff," she said, nudging him in the side. "You don't have to marry me just 'cause you got me pregnant."

"What if I wanted to? What if I've been thinkin' 'bout it for a long time?"

"Well, then I guess that's different."

"Would you say yes?"

"To what?"

"Quit messin' with me, girly-girl," Riff huffed, rolling his eyes. "If I asked you to marry me."

She rolled over to him and the two shared a smile. 

"I'll think about it," she teased, kissing him.

Riff returned to Sean, sitting up and placing him gently on the grass. He played with his feet, eliciting more giggles until the rest of the Jets showed up, the girls cooing and fighting to have a turn to play with him.

Riff pulled Vivienne into him, running his hands through the grass underneath them as he did. Everything that once seemed to important was nothing but a memory now, remembered only by the scar across his chest and an invisible line across some street that marked their territory that he hardly cared about anymore.

Beside him was the woman he loved and who loved him. Surrounding him were his friends, his family, teasing and jostling each other, stopping occasionally to hold and play with his boy. His son.

He knew that everything that mattered was with him there. 

EPILOGUE

When Sean was just over a year old his first word, "Dada", was spoken into the kitchen on a Sunday afternoon. After that, Riff made it his mission to beg Vivienne for another baby. He found the most inventive of ways to bring it into conversation, to try and sell her on the idea of a second kid.

"Give us a girl," he spoke lovingly in her ear as they lay in bed one night. "Give us a little girl with your eyes and my smile and I'll be the happiest guy alive."

A year later, that's what they got. A baby girl with Vivienne's eyes, Riff's smile, and his mother's name: Lucy.

With Sean, Riff had grown. With Lucy, he melted.

A few months later, when Vivienne and Lucy were napping at home, Riff took Sean out with him to the grocery store. Riff didn't take the stroller - that was a little too sissy for his liking - so he carried him the whole way. 

Sean wriggled and clambered around him, trying to escape so he could clumsily walk alongside him. Eventually Riff gave up and let him walk by his side, holding him tightly by his hand and giving him words to try and formulate into little sentences.

Sean tugged him towards the end of the street.

"Where you goin', huh?" Riff asked, watching in amusement.

"I go!" Sean squeaked.

Riff looked up and saw ahead, the border where Jet territory met Shark territory.

"Nah, sorry buddy boy," he said, pulling Sean back the other way. "Can't go there."

Sean, quickly bored of his course anyway, stopped and became occupied with his own reflection in a car. Riff paused, letting him get distracted.

He then glanced over to the PR territory and saw someone who looked vaguely familiar. Almost like someone from a dream.

He realised he was looking at Bernardo's distant figure, standing outside a coffee shop. Not just Bernardo, but Bernardo with a stroller. He watched as Bernardo looked tired, tried to coo at whatever was in the stroller. Riff recognised it - the calm franticness, the quiet mania that came from being a father.

Bernardo let out a heavy sigh and looked out towards the street and the two locked stares.

Riff wasn't quite sure what to do then. The Jets and the Sharks had left each other well enough alone for the most part. There was no fight to be had there anymore. But he certainly wasn't going to go up and talk to him...for old time's sake.

Bernardo looked between him and Sean for a few seconds. He then gave Riff a small nod. A gesture of solidarity.

They were more the same than they ever had been.

Riff nodded back, and watched as Anita came out from the shop and they pushed the stroller away and out of sight.

He then looked down at Sean and reached to pick him up.

"Come on, kid. We gotta get movin'."

As they walked, Riff remembered Bernardo's words when he had confessed his guilt to him. His internal torture over nearly killing him. 

But Bernardo didn't need to worry, Riff thought. All this time, he'd been coming to terms with his mistake, but Riff had found himself.

He would never tell the Shark, but he knew that whatever Bernardo had done had given Riff a chance to change. The life that he had now had only come from allowing himself to break out of his old life, if you could call it that.

As Riff walked down the street, smiling as his son laughed and wriggled against his hold, he felt alive.

So very alive.

THE END