Chapter Text
Learning to Live Without You
Chapter 20
“When Louise was little,” Bob said, glancing up at Nadia, “she was so independent; that was just who she was, you know?”
Next to him, Linda nodded. The four of them were back for their weekly therapy session. Bob and Linda had decided to schedule these sessions for twice a week for the time being, in order to help them prepare for February. They were going to need all the extra help and support they could get. Bob wasn't sure how well he, or the rest of his family, were going handle next month. One thing he was certain of was that he wasn't going to hit the bottle. Not after what he'd done to Linda and his children; he said he would never put them through that again, and he meant it. Making it through that day – that whole week, rather – was definitely going to be one of the hardest things he would ever have to do, and he didn't know how he was going to do it, but as long as they had each other, they would find a way to make it through. “I think sometimes she didn't like being the youngest, even though she liked being the baby, because she couldn't do things that Gene and Tina were allowed to do.”
“Like what?” Nadia asked.
“Well, when she was younger, she didn't really like taking naps,” said Linda. “So whenever I'd go to put her down, she'd run and hide. And when I managed to get her into bed, she'd just talk and talk, trying to get me to stay, and she'd always come out of her room.”
“Yeah, she'd say she needed a drink or a story, or needed to go potty, but she was just trying to stay awake. And then she'd be grumpy because she was tired,” Bob said.
“Do you think a bit of it might have been jealousy?” asked Nadia, resting her pen on her notebook, and surveying Bob.
“Who knows?” he muttered. “It probably was,” he admitted after a moment. “She never liked being left out of anything.”
Even though Tina didn't take naps at that age, Gene did, but Louise still hadn't been happy that their nap times had different schedules. She would have to go to sleep while Gene and Tina got to play together, and that was unacceptable.
“So, would you say that she could be a little bit hard to deal with sometimes?” questioned Nadia gently.
Bob paused. He looked over at Linda and the kids. They all appeared to be thinking the same thing he was. He swallowed hard.
“Sometimes,” he said, looking down at the ground. “I think a lot of it was just her personality, but yeah, she was... rowdy. But, it got less and less over the years. By the time we lost her, she'd calmed down a lot. She was still our Louise, but just calmer.”
“I understand.” Nadia continued writing; though her face was neutral, she was smiling inside. They were finally learning to bring Louise down from her pedestal.
“But there was so much more to her than that,” Linda interjected. “She was a big softie deep down, and she really loved us.”
“Of course she did,” Nadia said, smiling reassuringly. “And it's important to remember those good times.”
“There were lots of good times,” said Bob, leaning back in his chair. “Like when she got her bunny ears.” He recalled four-year-old Louise's squeal of delight when she tried on her ears for the first time. He spoke of the fire, of how Louise had gotten burned, and of how miserable she had been after it. Getting the bunny ears had been the first time she had smiled since the fire, and that hat had helped her in so many ways.
As Bob continued to talk, Gene looked over to his left, and saw Louise sitting in a chair next to him. She was slouching, looking bored. He smiled slightly at her, and she smirked at him. By now, Gene knew he was only imagining seeing her, and he honestly didn't mind. In fact, it brought him a lot of comfort. Although, admittedly, the first time he had seen her, he had thought he was going crazy. But he was under no misgivings that he was seeing her ghost; this was just something he did to make himself feel better. Sometimes, the only thing that got him through the day was pretending that Louise was still with them. Was it healthy? He didn't know (nor did he really care), but it helped him. Sometimes, it seemed like she was really there.
It had started when he and Tina had returned to school after the summer holidays. He'd had a bad day; forgetting his homework, constantly dropping the ball in P.E., failing spectacularly to answer the maths question on the chalkboard, and to top it off, the lunch lady had run out of fish sticks (and practically everything else), and so Gene had to have cold tuna salad with red beans.
He'd sat, brooding, declining to share Tina's lunch (half wouldn't be enough to sustain him throughout the day) when he'd looked up and saw Louise sitting across from him. Gene had done a double take, certain his eyes were tricking him, when she'd given him an encouraging smile. And then he'd felt like the rest of the day wasn't going to be so bad.
“We were lucky that the teachers let her wear it at school. If they didn't, I think all hell would have broken loose.” Bob chuckled a bit, jolting Gene from his thoughts.
“She was never really a mommy's girl,” said Linda, “she'd always been for Bob, even as a baby. But, she did spend time with me. She had her own special thing with Bobby, but we would go to the pet store and play with the puppies. She always wanted a dog, you know; all the kids did, but we couldn't do it. The puppy couldn't be in the restaurant, and it would have been left upstairs alone, and it wouldn't be fair, you know?”
“I get that,” Nadia smiled.
“So this was, like, the next best thing,” Linda continued. “She loved playing with the puppies, and they loved seeing her. Like, they would get real excited when they saw her coming, it was so cute. Sometimes I feel bad about not getting the kids a dog, but I know we can't have one.”
“So, Louise was a big animal lover?” Nadia asked.
“Oh, yeah. Huge,” said Linda. “Loved pretty much all animals. Wasn't a fan of cats, though. My sister has three of 'em, and they aren't the nicest.”
“I know what you mean,” Nadia laughed. “I've known a couple of cats like that.”
“But she loved dogs the most. And sharks,” Linda told her. “She really wanted a pet shark,” she said, and Nadia laughed again.
“She would have had a tough time finding a tank big enough, wouldn't she?”
“She said it could live in the bath tub.” Linda couldn't help but laugh, and so did everyone else. Louise had been completely serious, as well. She had seen absolutely no problem with a great white shark living in their bath tub. Convinced that she would be able to train it, she had told her amused family that it wouldn't eat them when they needed to bathe. Her next step was to flood the town so the shark could take her to school. (She naturally assumed it would go straight home, like Lassie, and return to pick her up once school ended.)
“And what was she like at school?” asked Nadia.
“Well.. she didn't like it,” said Bob after a slight hesitation. “But lots of kids don't. I know I didn't.”
“What was she like as a student?”
Again, Bob hesitated.
“She was always playing pranks,” he admitted. “She liked doing stuff like that.”
“So she was a jokester? Has she always been that way?”
“Well... yeah,” said Linda. “Her terrible twos were... terrible! Her tantrums were crazy, and she could scream for hours.”
“Oh, yeah.” Bob had blocked that out, but now all the memories came rushing back. Toddler Louise throwing her plate because Linda had had the audacity to give her chicken nuggets instead of turkey dinosaurs. Or Louise deciding that she didn't want to wear what Linda had picked out for her, and would run away, her little legs surprisingly fast. After they'd managed to find her, it would take both parents to wrestle her into her outfits, with Louise shouting “no!” and kicking her legs out so they couldn't put her shoes on.
“But, when she was little, she could be really sweet.” A fond smile crossed Linda's face. “Sometimes, we'd wake up to find her in our bed. She didn't have, like, bad dreams or anything, she just wanted to be with us. And when she was a baby, Bobby was the only one who could get her to stop crying; she was always such a daddy's girl.”
“And is that something that remained as she got older?” asked Nadia.
“No,” Bob said, “I think, as she grew up, she kinda got a bit embarrassed about showing affection to us. Is that normal, because Gene and Tina never did that?”
“It's completely normal,” Nadia told him. “Most children go through a phase like that. Generally, when they reach a certain age, they want to be taken seriously, and that's why they tend to reject things like toys and cartoons, or in Louise's case, affection in public. But once they get past that stage, they embrace it fully again.”
“Louise was going through that second phase,” Bob realised. “Before that, she called me 'daddy' until she was eight, and afterwards, she would only call me that when no one else was around. But lately, it was like she was getting over that. I'm glad she got more affectionate,” he finished in a quiet voice. His hand reached up and he stroked the locket at his neck.
“She was a great kid,” said Linda, and Gene and Tina nodded.
“She sounds like it,” Nadia said. “You've made some great progress today. I'd like you to continue with your journals.” She handed each Belcher their journal back. “I'm seeing some real improvement there, so keep up with it.”
“Okay,” Linda nodded, holding her journal to her chest.
“If it's all right, I'd like to give you some tips on how to cope with the anniversary,” Nadia suggested gently. When the family nodded, she continued. “Just like with her birthday, you can write her another letter, or even a poem, and read it to her. Another thing to do is make some cards for her, or go for a long walk. Some people like to keep really busy throughout the day to distract them, and if that's something you want to do, then I could maybe help you find something. The most important thing to remember is that it's okay to feel a wide variety of emotions on that day, and it's all completely normal. If you want to celebrate her, that's fine. If you want to mourn her, that's fine, as well.”
“Thanks,” said Linda, and she and her family began to stand and prepare to leave.
“You're welcome. I'll see you back here on Friday.”
The Belchers bade Nadia goodbye, and left the office, their arms around one another. She had given them a lot to think about.
Bob turned the DVD over in his hands, not quite knowing how to feel. It was sweet of Koji to send this to him, but did he really have the strength to watch it?
Turning the DVD around again, he stared at the cover. 'Hawk and Chick vs Isonade' was printed above a poster of a fully grown Yuki and an aged Koji, their weapons raised as the Isonade lurked menacingly behind them, as it leapt out of a barrel wave. Bob stared at the creature, with its spiky body, sharp teeth, and fins, it looked very similar to a shark. Louise would have loved it.
Though Dominic had arranged a screening of the film for the Chicklets, Bob had not attended. Louise had never (technically) got to experience a Hawk and Chick movie on the big screen, (neither had he, come to think of it) and it didn't feel right to go without her. Still, it was nice of Koji to send them a copy.
Knowing how excited Louise was to turn ten, Bob had been planning to arrange a special family screening of a Hawk and Chick movie with the help of Dominic. He knew Louise would have been ecstatic to see her heroes on the big screen, and he'd imagined the moment where he sprung the surprise on her many a time. It would have been in the evening, after cake and presents. Louise would have thought she would get control of the remote (it was her day, after all), when Bob would have suggested they go for a drive. Where, he hadn't planned, nor what he would do if she said no; he wasn't too keen on the idea of wrestling her into the car. But once they were in the car, then he would drive, and he would wonder when the penny would drop. Perhaps not until they were inside the cinema. Maybe not even until the opening credits rolled; Louise would have had no reason to think that they were going to see anything but an ordinary movie. Then she would realise and her face would light up, and she would sneakily hug Bob.
But that would never happen. She would never get to experience that.
Breathing deeply, Bob put the DVD in the player, and picked up the remote. He wasn't going to watch it, but there was something he wanted to see. Muting the television, Bob skipped through the film, keeping his eyes on the bottom corner, until he reached the end credits, which he then let play.
There was the cast, with Koji and Yuki receiving top credit, of course, then the director, then the writers, and then:
'Special Thanks to:
Louise Belcher, who brought a father and daughter back together. Rest in peace.'
Bob stared at the screen, holding his breath until his eyes blurred. Why were Koji and Yuki so good to them? This was possibly the sweetest thing they had ever done. Well, they'd done a lot of sweet things for the Belchers, but this was definitely at or near the top of the list.
Rapidly blinking, Bob turned the DVD off, and walked out of the room.
Bob, Linda, Gene, and Tina were silent as they cleaned the restaurant in preparation for closing. Bob was cleaning the grill, his mouth set as he worked on scraping the flat top, and making it look clean and shiny. Linda cleaned the counter, and wiped down the stools, while Tina swept the floor, and Gene cleaned the tables.
None of them spoke, or even looked at each other. Instead, they all kept their heads down and focused on their respective jobs. The television was switched off, and now that another of Gene's songs had finished playing, so was the radio; instead, the only sounds came from the bristles of the broom sweeping across the floor, the squeaking of the stools, an occasional sniffle here and there.
Bob and Linda had briefly debated on whether they should open or not. It was going to be extremely hard for them to stay focused, but they eventually decided to open, as working would hopefully keep their minds occupied.
That week had been hard, to say the least. Tina had dropped more plates than she had ever dropped in her entire life. Bob had burned more burgers, as well, and they'd been doing their best to keep busy.
Several times, Bob and Linda had gone down to the farm to see Tina and Gene riding Kopi. It was amazing to them to see just how good their kids were at it, and they could see that Tina had been giving Gene tips.
After a fair bit of persuasion, they even rode the horse themselves. Bob had to admit it was fun. A little bumpy and uncomfortable at first, but once he got into it, he'd really enjoyed himself.
Every so often, Linda's hand dipped into the bowl of fruit she kept nearby on the counter. As February had grown closer, her comfort eating had crept back up, so she kept fruit everywhere in sight. Although, yesterday, she had eaten an entire pack of chocolate chip cookies, but this week was going to be extremely difficult, so she was able to justify it.
It wasn't just her; Gene and Tina had been eating more, as well, whereas Bob had gone in the opposite direction, just as before. Both Linda and Bob made no attempt to stop this. Well, they made sure that the kids ate healthily, (Linda kept the junk food hidden away in her room), so at least they were getting their five a day.
It wasn't that bad; okay, yes, she, Gene, and Tina had gained a little weight, while Bob had lost it (again), but it was better than drinking, right? It was just something they needed to make themselves feel better, even if it was only temporary.
The bell rang, and they all simultaneously looked up to see Teddy standing in the doorway, an awkward smile on his face.
“Oh. Hey, Teddy,” said Linda quietly, dropping the rag. Tina leaned the broom against the wall, while Gene clambered out of the booth.
“Hey, Linda, hey Bob, kids. You ready?”
“Yeah.” Linda retrieved her coat and bag, while Gene and Tina pulled on their jackets, and Bob came into the dining room.
“Hey, Bobby.”
“Hi.”
Gene squeezed his mother's hand tightly as they headed outside. Bob locked the door behind him, and they walked to their car, while Teddy got in his truck.
The drive was silent; Gene had his hands clasped together, while Tina stared out of the window, barely seeing the town go by. She did not make eye contact with any people she saw, instead quickly averting her gaze. Every so often, Linda would turn around and glance at Gene and Tina, as though making sure they were still there, while Bob focused on the road ahead of him, trying not to think about where they were going.
Still, none of them spoke; there was nothing they could say, or even wanted to say.
When Bob pulled up outside Wharf Park, he felt his stomach drop. Staring straight ahead, he clutched the steering wheel, willing that horrible feeling inside him to go away. Could he really o back to that place? Raising his eyes upward, he clamped his lips together, and took a few deep, calming breaths.
He felt a hand on his and he looked over to see Linda staring at him, the pain in her eyes matching his. Removing his hand from the wheel, he entwined his fingers with her, his eyes saying everything he couldn't.
When Tina and Gene shuffled forwards, Bob and Linda awkwardly twisted around in their seats, and they engaged in a desperate family hug. Gene buried his head into Linda's shoulder, and Bob kissed the top of Tina's head.
Teddy stood outside, waiting patiently, and when the Belchers had gathered themselves, they got out of the car, and, for the first time in a year, they all began walking into the park.
With every step, Bob felt as though he was walking to his doom. Almost blindly, he followed Teddy, not even taking in his surroundings. It was dusk, and the sky was a mixture of light blue and lilac, the colours reflecting off the clear, still surface of the lake. A few stars were dotted here and there, and from up in the trees, they could hear birdsong. Bob had to snort when he heard the birds singing, sounding so happy and carefree. Didn't they know what was happening? How dare they sing, today of all days?
There had been countless tears over the past week. Now that they had reached that terrible day when their world had stopped, it was like they were unable to cry. And returning to the place where the worst moment of their lives had happened was almost too much for them.
The park had once held so many precious memories; picnics with the kids when they were little, birthday parties, fetes. Now, it was this... Bob couldn't even think of a word to describe it – there weren't enough words in the English language. He just knew that it was tainted, and it would forever be a source of misery to him. After tonight, he never wanted to come back here.
When they reached the open area, they were shocked at what they saw. They had known there was going to be people, but they didn't expect so many. The crowd could have rivalled that one that had gathered during the rescue attempt. It seemed that everybody in Seymour's Bay had turned up; there were all of her friends from school, along with their families. The Wagstaff teachers were there, as were many of their regular customers.
There were pink ribbons tied into bows around trees, and not too far from the crowd was a small group of people surrounding a small folding table, but they couldn't see what was on it.
Olsen Benner and her trusty cameraman, Brian, were there, of course, and Olsen was standing by as Brian filmed some establishing shots of the park for their nightly news segment.
The crowd were clustered in their own little friendship groups, including the police and firemen, as well as what appeared to be all of the diggers. They were chatting, some of them were looking around, and many of them were holding flowers and teddy bears.
The group nearest to the Belchers, consisting of Nat, Theresa, Gretchen, Mike, Mickey, and the One Eyed Snakes, spotted them, and they all turned to face the family, falling silent.
But the Belchers weren't looking at them. They had caught a glimpse of the well, which was nearby, and so they were too busy staring at that.
It had been filled in with concrete the day Louise had died, and had been covered with a metal plate. Welded on top were the words: “R.I.P. Louise Belcher, with love from New Jersey and the world.”
One they had seen that, the Belchers couldn't stop staring at it. Gene leaned back into Linda, his legs feeling like jelly, and she hugged him. He looked around, but he didn't see Louise anywhere, and he wondered why she hadn't come. Gene thought she would have wanted to see this, but perhaps she didn't want to be reminded of it all. He guessed he would never know.
Tina gripped Bob's hand tightly, her breath catching in her throat, and he stared at the well until it became blurry. He didn't have the strength for this. He just wanted to go home and cry himself to sleep. He wanted to punch something, and keep punching it until he didn't hurt any more.
Blinking the tears away. Bob took a deep breath. He couldn't do this; he wanted to leave, but he couldn't seem to move.
Before he had a chance to force his legs to work, to run away as far as he could, Teddy stepped up to the front of the crowd. Slowly, the chattering died away, and everyone remained still as they waited for him to begin.
“Thanks everyone for coming,” he said, feeling a little bit nervous with so many eyes upon him. “I know it means a lot to the Burgers; it means a lot to me, too.” He gulped, and looked down at his feet before resuming his little speech. “We're here to remember a wonderful little girl, who had her life cut short.”
Subconsciously, the Belchers huddled closer together, as sniffles arose from around them. Teddy paused, the speeches he'd found online and melded into one to make it his own seemed to be slipping from his brain with every passing second. “I'm so glad you all could make it; the Burgers are great people, and they deserve every little bit of love and support they get. I know nothing will ever bring back Louise... but we won't ever forget her. And that's why tonight is so important.” He spoke a little more quickly now, “Tonight, we are honouring and remembering her with our candlelight of hope, unity, and love.” At least he remembered that part.
“Well said,” came an unknown voice from deep within the crowd. Teddy acknowledged this with a nod of his head, before he continued.
“In a minute, we'll light the candles, but before we do that, we have someone here who wants to say a little something.” Clearing his throat, he stepped aside as Nat walked up in front of him and turned to face the crowd.
She scanned the sea of mournful faces, pulling a small piece of paper from her pocket. Nat found herself unable to look anyone in the eye, least of all the Belchers, and so she looked down at her paper.
“This is just a little something I wrote. It doesn't have a title.”
Taking a deep breath, she ripped her eyes from the paper, and finally looked at everyone. As she began to speak, the audience listened respectfully, tears pooling in many an eye.
“In times of darkness, love sees…
In times of silence, love hears...
In times of doubt, love hopes…
In times of sorrow, love heals...
And in all times, love remembers.
May time soften the pain
Until all that remains
Is the warmth of the memories
And the love.”
When Nat had finished, she was met with light applause, and, her heart heavy, she looked over at the Belchers. They all wore the same strained, haunted hollow look they'd had for the past year. It broke her heart just to even look at them. “Thank you,” she said, turning back to the crowd. “That was dedicated to my favourite family. Louise was a great kid; I miss her every day. And every day, I marvel at the strength and courage Robert, Linda, Gene, and Tina have shown. I can't even imagine what they're going through, and I know it must have taken a lot for them to come here today. I just want them to know that we all love them.”
Nat was met with another round of applause, and she walked over to the Belcher family, and hugged them tightly. “I love you guys so much,” she whispered, before wiping her eyes and stepping away.
“Thank you, Nat,” said Teddy when the applause had died down. “Well, I guess it's time. We'll do the candle lighting now. Can everyone get into rows?”
While the crowd did so, the people at the table, picked up the boxes that were on it, and began walking towards the group.
When they had all got themselves situated, the volunteers handed everyone a single white candle with a drip protector, chatting pleasantly to the crowd.
Bob, Linda, and the kids were standing in the front row, in the centre, with Big Bob and Gayle beside them, and as their candles were lit, they couldn't help but think about what Louise would think of this. Would she like it? They supposed that she would; she loved anything that celebrated her, so she probably would have enjoyed this.
It took a while, but soon all the candles were lit, and at Teddy's word, everyone fell silent. They bowed their heads and they thought about Louise. They thought about how exuberant and full of energy she had been. They thought about how she loved riding the scary rides at Wonder Wharf, and how she tried every trick in the book to get out of taking pop quizzes.
Regular-sized Rudy found himself thinking about how Louise would let her heart get in the way of a prank, causing her to call it off. She would claim she hated how sappy she was, but Rudy had always believed that she didn't mind as much as she seemed to. That was one of the many things he admired about her; she had a reputation for being this crazy, heartless schemer, but, she was a good person. Hey, she'd been friends with him, and she never made fun of him. Well, except when he wouldn't let her blow up his model bridge. But she made it up to him. That was another thing he liked about her; she would always go above and beyond to make things right.
Rudy looked straight ahead, past Teddy, a tear welling in his eye.
The flames flickered gently in the evening chill, but everyone remained still and silent. The whole park was aglow with the collective light, and it shone on the trees, the grass, and the metal cap that covered the well. It had to be said that it was a beautiful sight.
A tear fell down Bob's cheek, but he made no attempt to wipe it away. A sniffle next to him told him that Linda was crying, too. He stared down at his candle, at the dancing flame until his eyes burned, and more tears fell down his cheeks.
When the two minutes were up, the candles were blown out, but the silence remained. It felt wrong to speak, and nobody wanted to be the first one to say something.
“Okay,” said Teddy quietly. “I know Bob had something to read. But if he doesn't want to, then we'll understand -”
“No, I'll read it.” Bob stepped forward, and turned to face everyone, taking a deep breath. Just like Nat, he pulled a sheet of paper from his pocket. “This is from the whole family.” Taking another deep breath, he looked down at the paper, even though he had the words memorised.
“To honour you...
I get up every day and take a breath.
And start another day without you in it.”
Bob forced himself to look up, to look his family in the eye. It made them all cry harder, but he couldn't look away. It was a good thing he had the poem memorised because he couldn't see the words on the paper.
“To honour you...
I laugh and love with those who knew your smile
And the way your eyes twinkled with mischief and secret knowledge.
To honour you...
I take the time to appreciate everyone I love,
I know now there is no guarantee of days or hours spent in their presence.
To honour you...
I listen to music you would have liked,
And sing at the top of my lungs, with the windows rolled down
To honour you...
I take chances, say what I feel, hold nothing back,
Risk making a fool of myself, dance every dance.
You were my light, my heart, my gift of love, from the very highest source.
So every day, I vow to make a difference, share a smile, live, laugh and love.
Now I live for us both, so all I do,
I do to honour you.”
Bob broke eye contact with his family to look at the applauding crowd, many of whom were crying almost as hard as he was. In an instant, he was surrounded in a bone-crushing hug by his sobbing family. He wrapped his arms around them, burying his face in Linda's hair.
“That was beautiful, Bobby,” Linda whispered, as though she and the kids hadn't heard it several times before.
“Thanks.” He lifted his head to wipe his nose with the back of his hand. Linda leaned forward and kissed him on the cheek.
They just had time to give Gene and Tina a kiss on the cheek, before they were surrounded by a mass of people, and enveloped in a gigantic group hug.
The only way Bob could describe it was as though he was covered with a blanket of love. Unknown hands were patting them on the back, gently clapping their shoulders, holding their hands. It felt overwhelming, but in a good way.
“You guys are so strong,” came a voice from behind him.
“You're amazing,” someone else told them.
More and more voices joined the fray, telling the family how much the vigil meant to them, how great Louise was, and how brave they all were for coming there. It was all very kind, but Bob just wanted to leave.
“That poem was really nice.”
Bob craned his neck, and saw Patricia, the sandwich lady.
“Thanks,” he said, wiping his wet eyes.
“Did you write it?” she asked, and Bob shook his head.
“No. Well, I helped a little bit, but it was mainly Gene.” Reaching out, he blindly found Gene's hand, and gave it a squeeze.
“Well, it was great,” she turned to Gene, smiling. “You have talent.”
Gene only nodded in reply, his hand squeezing Linda's.
It was now becoming more than a little too much for Bob, and he suddenly felt smothered. But he was surrounded, and he didn't think he had the strength to push through the vast crowd.
Teddy, who seemed to be maturing by the day, noticed Bob's discomfort, and began to move the crowd away. Through the fog of misery in his brain, Bob felt a mixture of awe and confusion at how thoughtful and considerate Teddy had become. He didn't think he would ever get used to it.
“Thanks, guys,” said Teddy, when everyone had moved back. “Give 'em some space, huh?” He looked around, before taking a few steps back. “Okay, if everyone's ready, I guess we can, uh...” Teddy vaguely gestured to the well.
The Belchers didn't know what he was referring to, but everyone else seemed to understand, for they spread themselves out and, one by one, they began to place their gifts around the well. The family fell silent, as did everyone else, and they watched as the group laid their teddies, photos, flowers, and other toys down, many of them shedding a tear.
By the time they had finished, the well could hardly be seen, and the Belchers automatically began to walk towards it. When they were in front of it, they stopped, and just stared. If they squinted, they could just about see a tiny portion of the writing on the metal plate, and Gene buried his face in his mother's side.
Linda felt a sudden urge to somehow rip the well out of the ground, to smash that welded plate into a million pieces with her bare hands. Her baby had died here, in this spot right in front of her. Well, eighty feet underground, but it was still right in front of her. It was so unfair; they should not be attending a memorial vigil for their daughter. Louise should be there with them, and they should be doing what normal families do, but she wasn't there, and it was so pointlessly cruel. Now more than ever, Linda could feel that huge, Louise shaped empty hole in her life.
She hugged Gene tighter, if only to stop herself from going on the rampage. She had to get away; she didn't know how much longer she could stand it there.
Stepping away from the well, Linda wiped her eyes, and turned to face everyone.
“Thank you all for doing this,” she said quickly, feeling the rest of her family turn around as well. She paused for a moment to compose herself, before continuing. “This is so – I can't even describe it, but it's one of the sweetest things ever, so thanks. It means a lot that you all still care about Louise, and that you haven't forgotten her.”
Bob nodded, but found himself unable to speak.
“No one could forget Louise,” said Rudy quietly, but no one heard him.
“So, this was so, so sweet of you all, but we're gonna go home now.”
Teddy nodded understandingly, as did many of the others.
“That's okay, Linda,” he said. “Do you need me to come with you?” he asked, and Linda shook her head.
“We'll be fine, thanks.” She held her breath to keep from bursting into tears, and she took a few steps forward, desperate to get away. She stopped, struck by a sudden thought. “Oh! Whose idea was this?”
“... Mine,” said Rudy after a short pause, taking a meek step forward. “But Teddy got everything all set up; I just had the idea,” he added quietly, feeling undeserving of the hug Linda had immediately wrapped him in, nor the kiss she planted on his head. He couldn't help but feel slightly embarrassed when she called him a great kid, and that Louise had been lucky to have a friend like him. He didn't think he was that great; he'd seen similar vigils online, and had simply thought that it would be a nice way to remember his friend. “No problem,” was all he found he could say.
He stumbled back slightly as Linda released him, and she gave him a small smile, which he tried to return.
Teddy, looking like a little lost puppy, was fighting hard to keep his emotions in check, as Linda, her bottom lip trembling, took her son's hand. Bob took Tina's hand, and she and Gene held hands as the four of them left the park, their heads bravely held high.
As they walked, they thought about Louise. They thought about what she would have been doing – what they all would have been doing, on what would have been a regular February day. Would she have been trying to force her restaurant chores onto her siblings? Or would she be trying to rope them into going along with her latest plan? It was getting late; if Louise had planned anything, she sure had left it to the last minute. Or perhaps she would be curled up on the sofa with her family, finishing up a movie, and getting ready to go to bed. Linda preferred to think about that scenario; just her perfect family spending time together. She desperately wished that that last one was true, although if she was honest, Linda just wanted Louise to be with them. She didn't care what Louise would get up to – she could rob a bank as far as Linda cared – as long as her baby was back with them.
As the months passed, the Belchers continued with their new life the best they could. They worked, they went to school, they attended therapy, they spent time with their friends – anything they could think of to fill those lonely hours.
Every so often, they had their little breakdowns. But they were there for each other, because that was what they did best.
Tina devoted much of her spare time to Kopi, while Gene dedicated himself to his budding musical career; he'd already gone back to Miguel's studio and recorded a few more songs, hoping to release an independent album. It seemed an attainable goal to him, and he saw no reason why he couldn't do it.
They would come together of an evening, watch a movie, and look at photos of Louise, and when the kids had gone to bed, Bob and Linda would work on their slide show present for the school assemblies and now it was more polished and refined, though still with that emotional and personal touch.
At least it had been keeping them busy, he reasoned, so that was something. Phone calls and emails about which schools they were visiting and when, along with meetings detailing Wagstaff and Huxley schools' plans for the trained counsellors.
So between that, their constant stream of friends checking up on them, and visiting Louise's grave, they used up almost every spare moment of time they had.
Teddy had been amazing; he'd invited them over to his apartment several times, and they had obliged. Teddy would set out snacks and drinks, and the Belchers would situate themselves on his lumpy, uncomfortable sofa, and they would play board games, card games, and have dinner (though Bob insisted on cooking). A lot of the time, they would indulge him by watching the hockey game. Well, they did their best to pay attention, at least, and if Teddy noticed, he said nothing.
“I hope this goes well,” he said one evening, scooting his chair closer to the coffee table. “I've never played this game before.”
“You've never played Kerplunk before?” Tina looked astonished, and Teddy shook his head.
“Nope, never.”
“It's pretty easy, but don't worry, we'll help you,” she told him.
He seemed to get the hang of it pretty quickly, and so Bob and Linda decided to sit that round out and let Teddy play with the kids. They did find it rather amusing to see his eyes wide and his tongue sticking out in concentration as he tried to decide which stick to remove.
“Aargh!” he cried as he pulled the wrong one, sending most of the marbles dropping into the tray below. He fell back into his chair, shielding his face as he tried to recover from the shock. “Whoo, that was scary!” he announced, placing a hand over his racing heart.
“It's okay, Teddy.” Bob couldn't stop the tiny chuckle from escaping his lips.
“Okay, I think I got it now,” Teddy said, moving back toward the game.
He fared much better next time round, and for the first time in a long time, his little apartment was filled with laughter.
“It's nice goin' to Teddy's, isn't it?” said Linda when they arrived home later that night.
“It gets us outta the house,” Bob said, taking a seat on the sofa. Even now, it still seemed so quiet without Louise, even when they played music all day, even when they had people over; nothing ever seemed to fill that silence.
“Maybe next time, we can play Hungry Hungry Hippos or Mousetrap or something,” said Gene.
“Oh, yeah, that would be fun,” Tina said, remembering playing those when she was little. It would be nice to return to them, she thought.
“Yeah, it would,” Bob nodded, before he stretched. “Well, it's late, you kids better get an early night. Oh, and you can both have the day off tomorrow.”
Tina and Gene, who were on the verge of giving bedtime hugs, paused.
“What? Really?” asked Gene.
“Yeah. Your father and I decided that you should go and spend some time with your friends,” said Linda. “Goodnight, my babies.”
When they had gone to bed, Bob and Linda sat closely together on the sofa. “We're talking at a school on King's Head Island in two weeks,” Linda reminded him as she tucked her feet underneath her and leaned in against Bob.
“Oh, wow, really? Wow, this is really spreading, isn't it?” Bob put his arm around her.
“Yeah, it is. I'm gonna make a few changes to my notes tomorrow, see how it turns out.” Linda was still amazed by the reception her presentations had got; she couldn't deny it made her feel a little bit good inside, knowing that she was making a difference. Even if it was tiny, it was still progress.
“Okay,” Bob nodded. He'd also gotten more involved with the presentations, by adding to Linda's notes and was now speaking more often. He had found that the more he did it, the easier it became. Not talking about his daughter's death, but speaking in front of large crowds. “I'm so proud of you,” he told her, resting his cheek on her head.
“Aw, thanks, Bobby. I'm proud of you, too.” Her hand found his and she gave it a loving squeeze.
It felt, to them, like they were barely carrying on, and just existing instead of living, but they did not realise that, most of the time, it was getting easier for them to talk about Louise.
Perhaps the biggest change was that there was now a burger on the Burger of the Day board. The “Cheese Louise” Burger. (Comes with Pepper Jack cheese and served on a sweet Brioche bun.)
Linda had been the first to notice it when she and the kids had come down to restaurant that particular morning.
“Oh. Oh, Bobby.” She pressed a hand over her mouth.
“What do you think?” asked Bob nervously from his spot next to the blackboard.
Linda responded by throwing her arms around him, and Bob hugged her back, only removing his arms to wrap them around Gene and Tina, who had joined the huddle. “I've been trying to think of the perfect burger for months. I'm not sure if this is perfect, but I think it says 'Louise'.”
“I think it's perfect, Bobby,” said Linda, and the kids nodded.
“I was thinking of maybe cutting a pickle in half and then slicing it in half, and putting it on the bun with toothpicks so it looks like ears. I might do that, just to see how it looks. Or I might do something with Sweet and Sour Sauce, like a “Sweet'n'Sour Child of Mine” or something, because that was Louise's personality sometimes, or -”
Linda cut him off with a kiss on the nose.
“It's great, Bobby,” she assured him. “It's so sweet.”
“Thanks. It's gonna be permanent.”
“So you're not gonna make a burger of the day any more?” asked Gene.
“I probably will, eventually,” Bob said after a moment's thought. “I don't really want to right now, though.”
“I like it, Dad. It's nice,” said Tina, her gaze drifting from the board to her father.
“Thanks.” Bob managed to smile down at her, already planning on surprising with their own special burger. He didn't want them to feel left out, and it would make their day.
The Tina Burger could be a “Tina-riffic Kid” burger, with maybe some pulled pork or bacon to give it a zombie theme.
Maybe he would indulge her and make a bun shaped like a butt. On second thought, no; people would eat those – it would be weird.
And the Gene Burger could be called the “Gene-ius Child” and he could perhaps do alternating stripes of black garlic and cream cheese (or something along those lines) to make it look like piano keys.
He was sure they'd love it.
If the Belchers had made any progress in the weeks following the one year anniversary, then they felt like it had all been undone in April, when the memorial garden was unveiled. They knew it was going to be emotional, they knew it was going to be difficult to see, but they went anyway.
Once again, the turnout was huge, and Bob and Linda were doing their best to show their appreciation as they chatted with friends and acquaintances.
Looking around her, Tina could see Olsen Benner talking to Mr Frond, and the Wagstaff teachers gathered nearby as they waited for the event to officially start.
Although she was surrounded by her friends, she kept quiet and stuck near Gene, who was equally as silent.
She kept staring at the fabric covering the new bench; soon, it would be unveiled. Tina wished that she and her family could have got the opportunity to see it before the reveal, just so she could mentally prepare herself.
Looking over at her parents, they looked calm enough, but Tina knew they were feeling the same combination of shakiness and nausea that she was. She returned her gaze to the blue cloth that covered the bench. In front of it was a large semi circle of gravel, which was surrounded by the painted tribute pebbles, with a gap of the stones in the centre so the bench could be accessed.
Just when Tina was wondering how much longer she could take the waiting, Mr Frond walked up to the front of the crowd, in front of the little bench, and raised his voice for quiet.
Try as she might, Tina couldn't seem to concentrate on his speech. It seemed that no matter how hard she focused, her brain didn't want to retain anything he was saying. It made her feel bad, if she was honest; Frond probably worked really hard on his speech, and she couldn't even extend him the simple courtesy of listening.
She couldn't dwell on it for too long, as before she knew it, Frond had stepped up to the bench, which resided against the wall, and had pulled the cover off. Tina gasped, as did the rest of her family. The bench was made of teak, which had been covered in a clear sealant, and had a shiny, brass plaque mounted on the back. Leaning forward, Tina read what had been engraved in black block letters:
'In memory of Louise Belcher 2009 – 2019. A quiet place to sit and remember good times.'
“Once again, I want to thank everyone who donated, no matter how small,” Frond said when the applause stopped. “Without your generosity, this wouldn't have been possible, and her family have asked me to thank you. They've said it's amazing that people will be able to remember Louise, and they thank you for not forgetting her.” Frond stepped aside, and allowed everyone to get a proper look at the bench and its surroundings.
On either side of the bench were pink rosebushes, and in front of them, blue forget-me-nots. The forget-me-nots spanned half the length of the rosebushes, and the pink and blue colours together made for a charmingly eye-catching sight. Lilac Wisteria, which Tina had chosen because it was Japanese, trailed down the wall above the bench, adding another pop of colour.
“Wow,” Gene muttered, taking a small step closer to it, and Tina nodded.
As Tina stared it it, thought it was nice that in the future, kids would sit on the bench, and perhaps learn about Louise. They would turn around and look at the name on the plaque, and maybe they would ask who Louise Belcher was, and they would find out that Louise was a real person. Just a normal (albeit crazy) little girl who went to this school, and played on this playground.
It also felt a little strange for her to realise that soon there would be kids who would only know about her baby sister through this plaque, and it made her think about all the plaques she had seen before, and the people they were dedicated to.
“We hope a lot of people enjoy this memorial,” said Frond. “And over here to my left we've got Louise's Garden.” He walked over to it and again stood aside, and the crowd gathered around the little plot of land, not too far from the wall.
Standing at the front, the Belchers had to admit it looked great. Bob and Linda felt a surge of pride when they thought about all the hard work Gene and Tina had put into it. Sure, they had helped as well, but it was their kids who had done most of it.
It had all been very artistically arranged, there was a large semi-circle of white lilies, then some pink and green snapdragons (because Louise was feisty), then daisies, all arranged from tallest to smallest. They had been planted around a solar-powered rock water feature, the water trickling gently down the tiered, circular rocks into the bottom reservoir. In front of that were strawberry plants, tomato plants (because she'd enjoyed growing them with Bob), and a Japanese berry Tina had found online called Rubus phoenicolasius, or Japanese Wineberry. Despite the name, they were non alcoholic, but the berries were surrounded by bristles. They reminded Tina of Louise; a sharp, hard exterior, but warm and sweet on the inside.
Tina had also found a Japanese flower called Camellia, and that had been planted in front of the daisies. A local artist had kindly donated a stone figurine of Kuchi Kopi, that he'd carved himself, while Millie had donated a stone angel.
Finally, the last flowers that were at the very front were Sweet peas, because Louise was Bob's Sweet Pea.
Without wanting to pat themselves on the back too much, the garden looked amazing. Bob felt like he could look at it forever. Seeing all these flowers and plants moved him; as long as they continued to grow, then so would the spirit and memory of Louise.
Bob reached over and took Linda's hand as they sat down, entwining his fingers with hers. She gave him a small, watery smile, before returning her gaze to Nadia.
The four of them were back in her cosy, comfortable office, and Nadia was sat in front of them, looking more like an old friend than their grief counsellor, albeit with a notebook on her lap. It was a small relief in some way that the office was familiar and friendly, as Bob couldn't imagine going through the rest of his life without needing counselling. Because surely, if they no longer needed it, then that meant they were okay, and Bob wasn't afraid to admit that he, and the rest of his family as well, would be needing help for many years in the future.
“How have things been?” she asked in her gentle voice, and Bob shrugged.
“We've been going about like usual, but it's been hard lately,” he admitted.
“I read about the memorial garden. It was a really nice thing to do. How was it for you?”
“Well, it was sweet to see what everyone did, and the garden looks great,” Linda began. “But it was just...” she flailed her arms, reminding them so much of Louise. “I don't know; it was like I wanted to be there, and I didn't wanna be there, you know? Because of why we were there.”
“I get that,” said Nadia. “I think you were all very strong to have gone there. How were you all in the days after it? Have you been keeping up with your journals?” she asked, earning nods from all of them. “That's wonderful. Do you think it's helping?”
Bob shrugged again. He couldn't say for sure. Perhaps it was and he just wasn't seeing it. Perhaps it was because it had now been more than a year since they'd lost Louise and he was just destined to feel this way forever. He looked out of the window; despite it being quite late, the sun was still shining, sending warm rays of light into the room. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes; soon, the kids would be going back to school. After this, Gene had one more year at Wagstaff, and then he could join Tina at Huxley High.
“I think it's helping me,” said Tina quietly. “It helps me to say the things I can't say. It's easier to write it down, and then say it. Like if Louise would like the garden. I think she would have liked the attention.”
Nadia nodded again; they had got to the point where the sessions would involve the family talking through their thoughts and feelings, while she listened. They were getting to be so good at expressing themselves, and she was so proud at the progress they had made in such a short amount of time.
“I'm sure she would have.”
“I haven't really been writing in my journal, but I've been writing a lot of music. Well, I don't write it, but I play it,” said Gene.
“That's fantastic,” Nadia beamed. “How does it make you feel?”
Gene tilted his head.
“It makes me feel not so empty,” he said after a moment. “Sometimes it makes me feel better, but sometimes I just feel the same.”
“And that's okay,” she assured him. “It's perfectly natural to feel that way.” She gave him a comforting smile, and turned to the rest of the family. “How have you guys been coping since the garden opened? Or just coping in general?”
“I don't know,” said Bob, thinking of the little bottle of pills he and Linda kept locked away in their room. The doctor had prescribed them last November, and Bob wasn't sure if they were working, but he kept taking them as advised anyway.
“I still feel guilty sometimes,” Linda said, looking upset. “Because sometimes when I think of Louise, I realise that sometimes she wasn't... a good kid.” Her face crumpled. “And I feel bad for thinking that, even though you say we shouldn't put her on a pedestal. But...” she took a deep breath, “she wasn't an angel; she could be a little devil sometimes. And I'm trying really hard to not feel guilty about thinking that, because, like you said, we should remember Louise for who she was, good stuff and bad stuff.” She felt terrible for even thinking it, let alone saying it out loud. But she now knew that sugar-coating who Louise really was would be a terrible disservice to her memory, and she didn't want to do that.
“I get it.” Bob moved his chair closer to her. He knew exactly how she felt, having had those same thoughts. “I mean, she told people I served human flesh in my burgers, she didn't like Gene or Tina spending time with me; she had a major jealous streak. But it doesn't matter what Louise said, or what she did; she's our daughter and she loved us. And we love her.”
It couldn't be denied that Louise had done a lot of bad things in her life. But she had also done a lot of good things, and you couldn't have the good without the bad. It was just life.
“It hurt when she used to slap me,” Gene muttered, and Linda rubbed his shoulder comfortingly.
“I know. It just feels wrong to think of her that way, you know?”
“I know,” Bob nodded. “The whole 'don't speak ill of the dead' thing -” he froze, looking shocked. He never thought he would be able to say the word 'dead' so casually. “That was.. weird,” he observed.
“That was progress,” Nadia told them, and the family looked stunned. Silently, they exchanged glances. They had made progress? But it didn't feel like progress.
“How did that happen?” asked Linda.
Nadia had to chuckle a little bit at that. She explained to them that it had been so slow, they hadn't noticed it. Little by little, they'd stuck together and slowly built a foundation to which they would resume their lives the best they could. More and more often, Louise's name would leave their mouths, and they would tell Nadia stories about her. Bob and Linda had been able to admit their personal struggles, as had Gene and Tina – Nadia didn't think she'd ever seen such a supportive family before.
They'd taken baby steps, and put in a lot of hard work, and it was because of that hard work that they had reached that point.
“You've learned a lot,” she told them, “and it's not easy, because you've experienced one of the worst things that can happen to a person, and you've come through the other side as a family.”
Hearing it laid out that way really put it into perspective for the Belchers. They were, miraculously, still intact (well, as intact as they could be with a missing family member), and they were able to function in their day to day lives, both in public and private. That was something that, this time last year, they had never thought they would be able to do, but here they were, doing it every single day. Should they feel proud? Maybe they should, just a little bit. They'd gone through a lot and come out still standing.
Nadia leaned back in her chair and allowed them to absorb what she'd said.
Eventually, Bob spoke up.
“You know,” he began slowly. “My dad told me that the pain will always be there and it gets easier to manage.” That day was one of many that would haunt him for the rest of his days.
“Do you think that's true?” Nadia asked, and Bob paused. He twiddled his thumbs and chewed his lower lip while he mulled it over.
“Yes. And no. When I think about her, it's different. I can smile at the old memories now, and I didn't think I would ever be able to. But losing her will always hurt; it feels like I've been stabbed and it probably always will. We'll always miss her and that's okay. Some days we'll be angry, and some days we'll cry, and other days we'll laugh. But we love Louise, and we'll always love her.”
Epilogue:
Four years later.
“You ready, Bobby?” Linda, a glass of TV watching wine in her hand, sat down on the sofa and tucked her feet underneath her. She picked up the remote as Bob nodded, and leaned against him contentedly.
A smile crossed her face as Bob began to tap his foot to the opening credits of “Winthorpe Manor”, and she began to do the same – despite what he said, he loved it just as much as she did. “Winthorpe Manor! Winthorpe Manor!” she sang, with Bob accompanying her with beatboxing, as was their tradition. “Ah, they should really ask us to do the opening,” she sighed, taking a sip of her wine.
“Hm, you think?”
“Yeah! They've had the same theme song for a hundred years now; it's time for a change. We'd rock it!”
“We would.” Bob had to admit it; after all, they sounded great (to their own ears, anyway), so why couldn't the theme song have an updated twist?
Linda nodded, snuggling even further into her Bobby.
“You know, it's nice to watch this and be able to hear it,” said Bob after a while, causing Linda to laugh.
“Yeah! At least we can follow the plot now!” She and Bob both chose to ignore the fact that they spent a fair bit of time talking during the show as well. To be fair, it was (mostly) about the episode they were watching, but they would sometimes drift off into casual conversation.
“Oh, what time does the concert finish again? I don't want Tina to be left waiting.”
“Uh..” Linda's eyes darted around the room as though it would offer some clue. “Oh! Eleven o'clock, but Gene said Alex is happy for her and Susmita to join their sleepover.”
Bob thought about it briefly, but decided he would go and collect Tina from the Wharf Arts Centre anyway; though it was kind of Alex to offer, but the sleepovers were his and Gene's time. Gene needed it, Bob felt, and he said this to Linda; he'd had a rough time over the last couple of years. But he was improving, and had stopped seeing Louise wherever he went.
“Mom? Dad? I wanna tell you something,” said almost thirteen-year-old Gene.
“What is it, sweetie?” Linda placed her copy of Open Toe Living aside and gave him her full attention.
“I don't really know how to say it.” His voice cracked several times, and it had nothing to do with his ongoing puberty. “So I'll just come right out and say it. I've been imagining Louise – like she's here with us. I've been doing it for years, but I know it's not healthy, and I'm trying to stop.”
Bob and Linda exchanged glances.
“You've been imagining her?” asked Bob, and Gene nodded.
“I started doing it when I was having a bad day, and it felt so real,” he explained. “I wasn't even trying to pretend she was there; it came on its own. And I liked it. It made me feel better. But then I started seeing her more and more. Which was nice,” he added quickly, feeling like if he stopped talking, then his parents would not understand what he was saying. “But it can't be good for me, right? For my head and my brain and everything. So, I want to be able to stop. Because sometimes it just seems too real.”
Again, Bob and Linda looked at one another.
“Thank you for telling us,” said Linda. “If you want us to help you, we can try. I don't know how, but we'll try our best. Have you talked about this with your therapist?”
“No,” Gene admitted. “But I will tell him next time I see him.”
“Okay,” Bob said. “You got this, Gene.”
“Thanks, dad. Well, I'm gonna go to bed now. Goodnight.”
“Goodnight, sweetie,” said Linda, and Bob said his goodnights as well.
“I wish he would have told us earlier,” said Linda sadly, after Gene had left the room.
“Me, too. But now that he has, at least we can try and help him now.”
“My poor baby; he was just trying to cope with everything.”
“He's really come a long way, hasn't he?” asked Linda, pointing to the wall, where a framed print of Gene's independent album cover stared back at them. He'd even signed it for them, as well. Linda couldn't help but gaze at it every time she walked by.
“He has. I knew he could do it,” Bob smiled. They all had; they knew that know. After struggling for so many years, it still felt a little bit strange to be in this position where they didn't need to worry about money as much as they used to. His kids were thriving, and were pursuing their dreams, as were he and Linda. Gene was still writing his own music and performing locally, and Tina was taking creative writing courses once a week, and experiencing true friendship with Susmita. He thought it was great that Regular-sized Rudy had joined Tina and Gene's friendship group and had become very close with them. “It's nice that Tina has a best friend,” he said, more to himself than Linda, but she heard him.
“Yeah, I'm so happy for her. I think Susmita's such a little sweetie. So much nicer than that Tammy.”
Bob hummed in response, as Linda sipped her wine again.
“Well, at least Tina won't have to put up with Tammy for much longer,” he observed; he felt Linda stiffen against him, and he realised what he'd done.
“N'aw, I can't believe my little teeny Tina's going to college soon! She can't go to college; she's my baby! Oh, no, no, why?!” Linda threw her head back and wailed.
Groaning a little as his joints creaked in protest, Bob sat up straight and turned to Linda.
“Lin, it's okay. It's gonna be fine,” he soothed.
Ever since Tina had started her final year of high school back in September, Linda had been prone to random weeping fits, unable to comprehend that her eldest baby would soon be flying the nest.
Bob understood; he felt the same way. Sometimes he felt like there was no possible way Tina was seventeen; it seemed like it was just yesterday he was potty training her. Or helping her to ride first her tricycle, then her big girl bike. He had to admit, he got a little teary eyed himself when he realised that at some point in the future, Tina would have a job and a home of her own, and would no longer be behind the grill with him. “She's growing up. She has to,” he said eventually, as Linda sniffled.
“I know, I just don't want her to. She's still my baby. She and Gene will always be my babies,” she said. “So will Louise,” she added. “At least we know she'll never grow up, huh?” she joked weakly, trying to lighten the mood.
Bob hummed again, looking around the living-room. Even now, Louise's presence could still very much be felt throughout the apartment, and it wasn't just because of the photographs hanging here and there, and the little memory table. No, it was the way they spoke of her all the time, the way they lamented over her pranks and stubbornness, the way they laughed at the fond memories. Her burger was still on the board; even now, it was still pretty popular. (To appease Teddy, Bob had added an extra Burger of the Day Board.)
Both he and Linda still bought and wrapped a present for Louise on her birthday and at Christmas. They couldn't imagine not doing so. They kept the gifts in her room, where they belonged. Perhaps in ten years or less, Louise's little bedroom would be filled floor to ceiling with presents. Sometimes it was amusing to think about. Other times it was not.
Every year, on her birthday, Christmas day, and the day she died, they would light a candle for her, and sit and remember the good times, and the four of them still regularly visited her grave, keeping it in good condition.
They weren't the same people now. None of them were, nor would they ever be. Over the years, they had learnt to confront their emotions head on instead of keeping them hidden away. Even now, the knowledge that Louise had died cold, alone, and frightened broke them, but now they could talk to one another and their therapist about it.
The pitying stares had stopped long ago, much to their relief, and that meant they were able to actually go out and do things without feeling dozens of strangers' eyes gazing mournfully upon them. However, with how busy they were, it was possible that they still got a few stares every now and then, but they just didn't notice. Bob and Linda's campaign had spread far and wide; both Wagstaff and Huxley High were the first schools to get their own special anti-bullying programmes in place, along with specially trained therapists. The programme included the therapists having regular talks with the classes, teaching them coping devices for when they felt angry. It also included special after school clubs for kids who felt like they had no friends, along with harsher punishments for bullies – in school suspension for a week, and then the high school students were given a set of three warning cards. One strike per card; three strikes and they were out. Expelled, that is. For the kids in elementary school, they would also get the warning cards, but if they got three strikes, then it was straight back to in school suspension.
To Bob and Linda's surprise, the majority of parents had been on board with it, and it had been working really well.
Many schools in New Jersey had now implemented this, and Bob and Linda hoped to bring it even further in the future.
“I can't believe she'd be thirteen now,” said Bob, looking over at the bookshelf, where a framed picture of Louise rested in between Gene's latest graduation photo, and Tina and Zeke's prom photo. “That's crazy to think about.”
“I wonder what she'd be like,” Linda muttered, leaning back against Bob, her gaze also drifting to the photo.
“A teenage Louise? She would have been a handful. Several handfuls,” said Bob, and Linda chuckled.
“Several bucketfuls, more like.”
Both parents laughed good-naturedly, before falling into pensive silence. “Do ya think she'd have been a tall teen, or be short?” Linda asked, “Winthorpe Manor” all but forgotten about. Bob tilted his head, pondering.
“Tall,” he said after a moment. “I think she would have had a huge growth spurt.” To him, it made sense; he'd seen the shortest kids in his classes at school have growth spurts and end up being the tallest. That would have been Louise. Besides, she would have wanted to be the tallest, so that was why he preferred to imagine it that way.
“Really, you think? I think she would have stayed tiny.”
“Now that I think about it, it would have been better if she was short; I wouldn't want to anger a six-foot-tall Louise. Can you imagine?” Bob jokingly shuddered, and he and Linda laughed again. Nine-year-old Louise could be scary; they dreaded to think what she would be like once she hit her teen years. Still just as crazy, combined with age, strength, and puberty, and Bob and Linda would have aged terribly.
“She woulda made me go grey years before I was supposed to,” Linda laughed, running a hand through her hair.
Then again, she might have mellowed out, the way she had been doing before she passed. She might have become a much calmer version of Louise. “I wish I could see what she'd look like now. Like, I wish I can get one of those age-progressed pictures made of her, so I can see her. But I also don't want to, you know?”
“Yeah. I get it. Don't wanna see what could have been. I know she'd look just how you did at that age.”
“Yeah..” Linda fell quiet. They both returned their gaze to the television, but did not pay attention to the show.
Bob's eyes drifted to the “Adventures of Kuchi Kopi” box set lying on the coffee table. Even now, it was an unwritten rule to never mention the series finale of it around Bob. When they had managed to work up the strength to watch the show, Bob had gotten really overinvested in it. The rest of them had enjoyed it, but not to the extent that Bob did, and during the series finale, he had wept when Kuchi Kopi had sacrificed himself for the world. “He was so pure! He didn't deserve that!” he'd cried, causing his family to bundle him up in a group hug.
(Kuchi was resurrected a few moments later by the Power of Love, but Bob had still been in floods of tears.) Even on one of their multiple rewatches, Bob still had to leave the room for most of the final episode, because it was just too much for him.
Most of the time, they (plus Gene and Tina) were able to talk about Louise normally, but occasionally the memories and sadness would overwhelm them. This was looking to be one of those times. “I'm just sad we'll never get to see her grow up. She won't finish high school. She'll never get married and have kids.”
“You think Louise would have had kids?”
Linda paused.
“Maybe not. I can't really picture her with kids. Puppies, yeah, but not kids.” Now that she thought about it, Louise would most likely have several pet dogs. In fact, Linda would bet that Louise would have worked at the pet store, where she could be with the animals all day. A pet store was one of the very few places Linda could imagine Louise working; of course, Bob had told her that their youngest wanted to take over the restaurant, and Linda could honestly see that happening. But knowing how much Louise loved animals, Linda had always pictured her working with them in some way. Maybe she would have combined the two and have puppies for customers to play with while they ate, like those cat cafes in Japan.
The two of them began to talk about Louise, laughing at the antics she used to cause. They remembered trying to wrestle toddler Louise into her car seat, while she screamed the whole street down because she wanted to drive. Linda recalled Bob's ingenious way of getting three-year-old Louise to eat her vegetables: “This is broccoli. It’s only for adults and big kids. You're too little.” It had actually worked for a couple of years, to Bob and Linda's huge surprise – even from a very young age, Louise had been almost impossible to trick. But then she had wised up and resorted to hiding her vegetables.
“I still can't believe it worked for so long,” Bob laughed. “I never thought it would have worked.”
“Well, she was little,” said Linda. “ I know she was still smart back then, but she was still a toddler.”
“Yeah, I guess. It's just, the whole 'go to sleep early so Christmas will come sooner' never worked.”
“Yeah, she didn't buy that for a second.”
Again, they fell into silence.
“I wonder if she would have been a better driver than Tina,” Bob smiled. Despite having passed her drivers' test and becoming a very good driver, the Belchers would never forget Tina managing to hit the only other car in the car park. In fact, it was still the first thing that came to mind when they pictured Tina driving. Not that it stopped her driving them about, however; Tina relished driving, and took every opportunity to get behind the wheel.
“Hey!” Linda slapped his arm playfully. “Tina's so much better now.” She laughed, knowing that he was only joking. Bob laughed as well, before checking the clock.
“I'd better get going, it's ten thirty,” he said, groaning loudly as he stood.
“The concert finishes at eleven, remember?”
“Yeah, but it's a Friday; I don't wanna get stuck in traffic.”
“Oh, okay. See you later, my love.”
“See you, Lin. Is the spare bed made up, because Susmita will probably stay over.”
“Uh...” Linda looked from side to side. “Yeah, it is. But I think she and Tina will camp out in here again.”
“You're probably right,” Bob chuckled. It was something that happened quite often; he didn't mind being kept awake by their giggling and excited whisper-shouting. He kind of wished he'd gotten to experience that when he was a teen. “Love you,” he said, before pulling on his jacket.
“Love you, too, Bobby.” She turned back to the television when she heard the front door close, but she made no attempt to follow the storyline. Instead, a find smile crossed her face as she thought about Louise.
They still had their bad days; sometimes so bad that they would end up crying themselves to sleep. But they knew the best thing to do to honour Louise's memory was to live their lives the best they could.
The pain hadn't gone away. But they had learnt to live with it.