Two weeks later was the anniversary of The Battle of New York. I got up extra early, put on a pair of jeans, soft brown boots, and a wrap style sweater in sapphire blue. I did my hair and applied some very waterproof mascara and lip gloss. I took a bottle of bourbon from Tony's stash, because that was Paul's preference, and a container of fresh chocolate chip cookies I made yesterday, because that was all their favorite. Not having graves to visit, I went to what had become our favorite spot in Central Park in my family's short time together in the city. When I got to the fountain, I placed four cookies on the edge, two for Paul and one each for my children, and poured out a healthy measure of bourbon. My eyes stung and I took a pull from the bottle myself, big enough it made my eyes burn for a different reason, like my throat as the alcohol slid down, 4:30am and empty stomach be damned.
"I know you would have wanted me to keep going, find new people. I think you'd be proud of me, that I'm not totally alone, that I'm still trying." My voice wavered, "But, Paul, baby, I still miss you so much... every fucking day." I sniffed, trying to find the words as I took a drink again. "Angus, Chloe..." My voice broke and I took another long pull. I sat there on the edge of the fountain in the grayish early morning light for a long time. Songs occasionally crept up out of me, my face stained by silent tears.
The lullaby I sang to my children when they were babies:
La-la-lou... la-la-lou
Oh, my little starsweeper, I'll sweep the stardust for you
La-la-lou la-la-lou
Oh my soft, fluffy sweeper, here comees a big cloud for you
La-la-lou la-la-lou
And may love be your keeper
La-la-lou... La-la-lou... la-la... looouuuu...
Our song, bubbled up with memories and a sobbing laugh, my voice soft and quavering:
Oh, don't you dare look back, just keep your eyes on me
I said, "You're holdin' back."
She said, "Shut up and dance with me!"
This woman is my destiny
She said, "Oooooh! Shut up and dance with me!"...
As it often did when the squeezing in my heart grew too tight, an old hymn I remembered from my childhood. Though it came not out of my heart, but from my stomach, seethed up out of my pain like bile, spat up in spite at the god it was intended to revere:
When peace like a river attendeth my way,
When sorrows like sea billow roll,
Whatever my lot, Thou has taught me to say,
It is well, it is well, with my soul.
The light eventually became golden and more joggers started passing me, probably wondering if I was drunk and if I had just been there all night, folded in on myself in silent tears, so I finally stirred. On the way back, I left the rest of the bourbon and cookies tucked back in a nook near a homeless man buried deep in his blankets and sleeping bags. Eventually, I stood looking up at the Tower again, willing myself to go back and push myself through the day. I don't know why I didn't take the day off, but I also don't know what I would have done if I had, but hide in bed with my self-pity.
Then, my reverie was interrupted by Captain America himself returning from his early morning run. I had hoped Steve would already be done by the time I returned. "Morning, Cookie!" His million watt smile tried to burn through the fog that had settled around my brain.
YOU ARE READING
The World Keeps Changing
FanfictionAfter the death of my family in the Battle of New York, I escape from the pain of loss in my work, continuing to work for Stark Industries in the position of Executive Chef. One of my many duties has become Personal Chef to the Avengers. Is there a...
