"You're kidding? Just like that, she's dead?" it's a shock when I get the call from the Sheriff's office. Kristen apparently had a stroke and died, she's only twenty-nine an odd cause of death for a woman her age. I get another shock, they have tape of her setting up a hit on Stevie and Denny. The hitman's been captured and confessed to the whole thing, though he doesn't know much other than he was hired to do it. The gun I gave the police had his fingerprints on it, the Sheriff's are satisfied that's the end of it all. Case closed, Kristen Messner is out of my life for good. She's also no longer breathing-
"What's the matter honey?" as soon as I hang up the phone Stevie's standing behind me, she's got a bowl of cookie dough in her hand and Denny's licking one of the mixers and sitting on the counter to my left "Kristen-umm the Sheriff called and told me she died...from a stroke" at twenty-nine. I don't know how to feel about that, I have no love lost for Kristen and she is or was a pretty awful human being but for her to have died so suddenly from such an out of the blue cause...it doesn't sit right.
"Whoa...well it's not as if it can't happen, but-I'm not sure what to say Linds" she's not about to give condolences but at the same time I can sense Stevie's uncomfortable with the death the same way I am "Me either, Denny and Connor are my priorities now-and you. I didn't wish Kristen dead, but I'm not really sad for her to be gone if that makes sense" is that callous? That seems pretty callous "Lets finish supper and get Denny ready for school in the morning" she's trying to keep my mind off of it, she knows me. Left to my own devices I might brood or obsess, but with Denny to look after I redirect my focus to his needs.
On a cold Wednesday morning Stevie and I drop Denny off at St. Invictus and make our way to the hospital to sit with Connor. As is her usual ritual Stevie bends down moving his hair aside and kissing his cheek "Hey baby boy, it's mom" squeezing his hand I take a seat by her side looking him from head to toe and making sure he's in the same physical condition as when we left last night "He's gaining weight" his nearly skeletal frame is filling out, form and definition returning to his wasted limbs. Stevie nods taking out her crochet work and fiddling with her glasses at the end of her nose.
Smiling at her I lean in for a kiss "You look adorable right now" tilting her head upwards she kisses the bridge of my nose "You too, and you haven't had anything to drink in over a month. I'm proud of you Linds" I'm still struggling not to pour scotch and whiskey when I feel stressed, it's been my crutch for years, even the hangovers were comforting to me at times. At least they were semi-regular and predictably painful "I've had a lot on my mind...a lot" not the least of which our custody situation with both Denny and Connor.
I can't deny the obvious fact that Stevie and I live in two different households, with separate lives. We have done for the last twenty some odd years and we've grown accustomed to it over time. But it keeps digging at me that our careers might end up splitting us to two different sides of the globe. In that case where will we send Denny? And who'll come and sit with Connor during the day? The obvious solution would be to get married-obvious to me because after that fiasco with Robin's husband Stevie vowed to never get married again. I'm not so sure, I've always envisioned growing old with her. whether on stage or in our personal lives I wanted her.
But at this stage in our time of life will she accept yet another trip down the aisle? Another attempt at our failed and deeply painful relationship? I don't know, but a big part of me would like to try. Clean and sober without baggage or presumptions I want to build a life with her. To care for Connor and raise Denny as husband and wife, protecting and cultivating the lives we're responsible for having created. Looking at her now I see a sense of serenity and peace in her body language, she's focused on a single stich moving the needles over and over to make it perfect. When she finishes she inspects her handiwork, nods gently and moves to the next section peeking quickly at Connor's still form as she does.
