Looking Through the Cracks

Chapter 8: Breaking News

Peacefully, B and Ivy lounged on the couch as they watched Conan O'Brien. Normally Ivy would have felt the need to fill the awkward silence, but with B it didn't feel awkward. For the first time in a while, Ivy felt comfortable just being in the moment. That serenity was quickly shattered when B spoke.

"Did you ever get a hold of your Dad?"

"Yeah..." Ivy's voice trailed off. She was doing her best not to think about her father, but now those fears were a cacophony in her mind. Preemptively, Ivy focused her gaze skyward to hold back any tears working their way to the surface.

Saving her from having to relive the phone call, B didn't ask for any details. "You can stay the night here, Ivy." B gave Ivy's hand a reassuring squeeze before getting up from the couch. Raising his arms high above his head, B let out a satisfied groan as he stretched out his limbs. Out of the corner of her eye, Ivy could see that B's shirt had ridden up during his stretches, a patch of skin peeking through. Do not look. Do not look. Do not look. With herculean strength, Ivy willed herself to focus on the TV but was unable to resist the temptation. It was only after she allowed herself to take in the small section of toned muscle, did Ivy begin to take in the rest of B's physique. As she looked at his flexing biceps she was reminded of this morning and when that one arm held her in the air as she sought her keys. I can't believe that was only this morning. Lost in thought, Ivy didn't realize she was still staring at B when she heard him clear his throat.

"Like what you see?" B teased. Placing both hands behind his head, B swirled his hips in mock sensuality. Ivy couldn't help but see the similarities between this dance, and the little shimmy Alice had done earlier. They are definitely mother and son.

Not wanting B to see the intensity with which her face was warming, she took one of the pillows off the couch and chucked it at him. With a swift chop of his arm, B slapped the pillow away, a grin of victory beaming across his face.

"I'm going to go ask my mom now before you find something else to throw at me." And on that note, B left the room, leaving Ivy alone in the living room.

Growing bored with the conversation Conan was having with a celebrity she didn't know, Ivy picked up the remote and began clicking through the channels. It wasn't until she reached the late-night news channel that she stopped, her finger frozen in mid-air.

."...We call it the 'Weekend of Fun,'" said the woman being interviewed. "We host it every year for children who are diagnosed with cancer. We like to think of it as a way for these children to enjoy their lives. A chance to try and forget about what they are suffering from." Ivy finally noticed all the children swarming around in the background. Some were gathered around tables doing arts and crafts, while others ran about the room. It was now clear that many of these children were lacking hair due to their chemotherapy treatments. However, despite the pain and suffering the children were living with, their smiles didn't show it. All the children were so giddy, leaving those watching oblivious to the truth behind each child.

"Well, this is an amazing thing you are doing, Ms. Duttie," said the reporter, smiling artificially at the camera.

"Please, call me Rebecca." She smiled, placing her hand on the reporter's arm. "And this weekend isn't about me, it's about the children. All I want is for them to have at least one happy memory despite what they are going through." A little girl ran up to Rebecca, wrapping her arms around Rebecca's leg. Picking up the girl, Rebecca straddled her on her hip, engulfing her arms around the girl's little body. She caressed the girl's bald head, tracing the visible veins lovingly. Giving the child an affectionate squeeze, Rebecca placed a kiss on the side of her head.

"Is this your daughter?" The reporter asked, shoving the microphone up the little girl's face. She shied away from the mic, snuggling her face into Rebecca's shoulder.