Endlessly, Love

Sunshine

You shuffled another hand, ignoring the quiet tick of the clock. The squeak of Wifey's seat as she shifted. The way Leo's fingers tapped or how Raph cleared his throat again. The faint blue glow, the distant noise of the tv. April, Casey, Tiny and Sprinkles had retired to the living room when Splinter had fallen asleep in his wheelchair.

After Donnie had carefully carried him to bed. As each brother, in turn, had taken their time alone in the room with their sleeping father. Saying goodbye, saying sorry. Saying whatever needed to be said between father and son before the opportunity was lost forever.

You tapped the deck on the table, split it. You knew, though. You knew it didn't matter how much was said. There would always be more, when they were gone. A moment, months later, you needed to share. And they just weren't there anymore.

Regret spares no one in the wake of loss. After your mother, after your father's infidelity, you'd learned that lesson.

You bit your cheek, looked up to Donnie as you folded the cards together. He stared, unblinking, out a darkened window. You straightened the deck again.

Each tap a gunshot.

The slick fwip of each card as you dealt, the smooth surface sliding easily over the table top as you shot a glance at the window.

A reflection of the family sitting with you. Donnie centered. Fuzzy, just a little blurry. You looked back down at your practiced fingers throwing the cards. Heart twisting.

Five dealt to each person.

Remaining deck stacked down. One card flipped over. You looked at your cards. A poor hand. That was okay. No one was really in it, no one was playing to win.

Not tonight.

Tonight the game was about stalling, buying time. Wasting hours. Every minute, each second, was another moment that Splinter existed in the world. And you were doing everything you could to make those seconds stretch for as long as possible. To delay the inevitable. To spare Donnie the unthinkable, for just a little while longer. You watched Leo chew his lip. Glance up. Draw, hesitate. Discard.

No one was rushing things. Everyone was silently in on your task of delay and distract. But you knew, you knew. They knew. Worst of al, Donnie knew. Splinter wouldn't be waking up.

Not this time. Not today.

A door closed as Wifey reached over the table, her hand hovering as she looked over her shoulder; the whole room frozen, waiting on bated breath. Feet, heavy, tromped down the stairs. Mikey came into view, toes first.

Eyes glued to him, sympathetically. Knowingly. Enviously. Terrified.

Mikey hesitated at the bottom step, hand on the railing. Blood shot eyes looked over his brothers, glimmers with tears. Head hung, shook. Shoulders sagged and he turned into the living room.

You heard Sprinkles voice, low and indiscernible, murmur. A wavering response.

Fingers clenched on your own cards as you looked over to Donnie, heart clenching. He blinked, looking at his hand.

Set it down face up, cards scattering as he stood. You exchanged quizzical looks, in turn, with everyone at the table as you watched him round the counter into the kitchen.

He didn't bother turning the lights on as he grabbed the coffee pot, dumping the old, cold brew down the drain.

"Not as good as what I'm used to." He muttered, filling the pot with coffee stained water before swirling it around. Dumping it. Filling it again.

Pouring the water into the reserve.

Opening a cupboard. A couple blends were available, which struck you as awfully kind of Wifey and Leo to keep on hand for guests.