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No Place Like Home
Red and Kitty's lives are changing, with an empty nest and a reluctant passing of the torch. To their adult children. With new obstacles, and new beginnings. And hopefully, unfettered happiness. R/K
*****
November 1981
Point Place, Wisconsin
7:00 pm
Isn't it amazing? How people feel like home?
How almost all the people she loves dearly are gone, with the wind? Daddy's dead, as her mother lives yet another day. Her loving sister's in Indiana, while Laurie's around the cover wreaking havoc.
Yes, she loves Laurie dearly, but only because she has to. She's tried to like her daughter, but wretchedness has skipped a generation. Laurie's like her evil grandmother, not her loving mother.
Over the years, she's tried to nurture her daughter, planting a compassionate seed to perhaps watch it grow. But nature took over. Not flowers, but thorns. Poison ivy, quicksand.
As the years have raced by, now the love of her life understands. Laurie's been making too many mistakes to brush aside, as slowly but surely, he's been seeing the light. Eric's the one to place their bets on, not Laurie.
Well, she may not be a lost cause quite yet, but as her mother, she worries about her. She may try to remain on the straight and narrow, on the right path, but she knows her daughter. And when everything's going to plan, she'll find a way to screw it up. Massively.
And there are massive warning signs, everywhere. And as her mother, she's eager to help, but Laurie's becoming stuck between a rock and a hard place.
Smoking a cigarette in the driveway, Laurie sighs. As Kitty winces. Even if it smells horrific, it's still a temptation, even she's been on the straight and narrow for six whole years.
"I just want Fez and the salon. That's it. No babies, but he wants babies. And he wants to start his own aerobics studio, like Rhonda just did..."
"Big Rhonda?"
"Well, I guess she's little Rhonda now." Laurie cherishes the moment, that cigarette, like it's her baby. "But she's getting her life together, and I don't know if I am."
Kitty knows her daughter well, too well. And quite frankly, she's overwhelmingly apprehensive.
"Are you happy?"
Her daughter's answer is lukewarm. At best. "I guess, as long as Fez stays on the straight and narrow. And he doesn't ask me about having children together. Ever, ever again."
By comparison, Eric's screw-ups are just hiccups. Little bumps, on the road to success. And right now, her baby boy is in Madison, with dreams to go back to Cape Town. To help others, with his heart on his sleeve. Someday, somehow.
With that redheaded harlot...fine, she'll step that back. Because that's a bit harsh. Donna's a nice girl, a willful young woman, who just has a different point of view. She doesn't want to spend her life washing out her baby boy's grass stains or hosting Tupperware parties, and that's fine with her.
Then, after Cape Town, they'll settle down. Not in Point Place, they scream and shout. They'll have a couple of kids, and they'll visit a few times a month.
But that's nearly a decade away. And right now? It's quiet. Too quiet.
It's an odd feeling, as she sits on the living room couch, in a barren home. With a barren womb, waiting for the grandchildren that will inevitably come. Pitter pattering on the floor, filling her heart with joy.
"That's the way I like it, Kitty," Red states, relaxing in his pea-soup chair, "Peace and quiet."
"You don't miss the kids?"
"Laurie and Apache come over here every other day."
She sighs, loudly. So he'll hear. Deflection, deflection, deflection. "I mean, Eric and his other friends. Especially Steven."
Red feigns grumpiness, like Oscar the grouch, and groans. "They've got their heads out of their asses, like it damn well should be. Now, they're out of my house, living on their own..."
"They're both your sons," She interrupts, stating the overwhelmingly obvious, "Even if Steven isn't our flesh and blood, he might as well be."
Silence awkwardly envelops the room, as he tries to lick the envelope shut. And she wants to open the damn envelope, releasing its contents to the world. Out in the open.
"The boys have got a strong head on their shoulders." The Packers game has gone to commercials, leaving him to reluctantly muse. As Kitty prods on the sidelines, glancing at him. Pleading with him to speak, once in a blue moon. "Even though Eric can't play a game of football to save his damn life."
She grasps at straws. Her baby boy's one asset, that reminds him of his father. Sitting in front of her, with a hardened scowl.
"He's a sharpshooter, though...remember his Taxi phase?"
But Red readily discards that tidbit of information, and looks at the big picture. Their son's life philosophy, ever so different than his.
"It's not like he'll ever use it. He's never going to go war."
To an extent, Kitty shares this sentiment. She remembers, on edge, waiting for Red to come home. Intact, for a seemingly pointless war. Because Korea wasn't the war in the Pacific. The enemy was clear, but what was the point? To thwart communism, an eventual preamble of things to come. Like Vietnam.
"That's a good thing, Red."
"Not if the country calls for it, it's not." He's still stern, staunchly conservative, with great pride for his country. Even if that leaves some blind spots, sometimes. "I stood up and served, and he's going to be teaching some snot-nosed kids history."
"American history, Red." A flicker of hope barely emerges in her husband's eyes, as Kitty fights. For the sake of her baby boy, her loving son. "Not all men are meant to be soldiers, like you. Some have big, big hearts."
He gazes at her, hesitantly. Like it's somehow a mixed bag. "That came from you."
"And that's a bad thing?" She demands, visibly upset, "Daddy always told me to follow my heart, and that's what I did. It led me to you. And nursing. And taking care of all these kids, even if they're not my own."
"But you're a woman. He's a man, and he's..."
"Like you, to some extent. But he's also like my father. And my father was the only one who ever supported us in any meaningful way. And I want my baby boy to be happy. I don't want him to be miserable, like my father was."
He sighs. He hates bringing up the past, when the memories aren't so warm and cozy. He's more than willing to talk about their loving night drives, their secluded diner dates, and their beautiful wedding night.
But the hard stuff? He puts that on the back burner. "Those were more out of life's circumstances..."
Turning on the front burner, pushing the pot to the front and center, she sighs. "Sometimes, yes. He lost his first wife, his pride and joy. The Great Depression hit Point Place hard, but what did he do? He didn't sulk about it. He helped those who needed to be helped. He taught Point Place's children, started food drives, and even let some children reside in our home. My mother didn't like it, but damn my wretched, heartless mother. Who ripped Daddy's heart out of his chest and buried it in our backyard. Because she's a manipulative, terrible person, who..."
"Kitty."
Once the wall has fallen, she's experiencing a tidal wave of emotions. A tsunami, thinking of the past. How her father was treated so, so poorly by her evil mother, and he never had a chance to breathe. And be truly happy.
And no siree. She's not letting that happen to her precious baby boy. He might occasionally be a fool, but even when he is, he's a fool with his heart on his sleeve.
"Who blackmailed my father into staying, because then he'd never be able to see his children again."
But most of the time, her baby boy's no fool. And he's finding his way, unlike her father. Who went to the grave being downright miserable.
As she pleads to her loving husband, to give her son some well-earned mercy. "Please, let our baby boy be happy. Let him live his life, without unwarranted scrutiny. Because he's a good man. He'll be a good teacher, a good husband, a good father. You may disagree with him sometimes, but he's your son. Our son."
"Yes, he is," He gruffly insists, wrapping his arm around her increasingly burdened shoulders, "He's our son. But he can be a dumbass sometimes."
"When he's a..." She sighs, slightly tired of the term. "Dumbass, we'll guide him. We'll help him out, like parents are supposed to do. We'll love him, and nurture him..."
"Without coddling the damn boy?"
She nods. It's a hard pill to swallow, but she has to balance on that tightrope. To love and nurture her son without holding him back. "I've learned my lesson, Red. I'm not letting him ruin his life, but at least while he twiddled his thumbs, he found his life's purpose."
"He did." A glimmer of hope appears, a satisfied smile. Like the world is their son's, and his, oyster. As he, once again, tries to trek. On his own, even with the staunch competition. "Just like my life's purpose is the muffler shop..."
Kitty gently prods, well aware of what is at the tip of his tongue. "And?"
His smile grows, as he brings her closer. Warm and cozy, even as the television mindlessly blares. "Being with you. The love of my life."
"You're so sweet." She kisses his cheek, a generous cup of sugar. Sprinkled on their world. Their imperfect, but loving world. "Even if you pretend to be Oscar the grouch, you're not."
And as the commercials finally cease, he basks in the sunshine. His wife of many loving years, and hopefully? Many more loving years to come.
He kisses her back, as her heart happily spins. Along with his, at the center of his changing world.
"Uh huh." His grumpiness truly fades, as they lovingly bask in each other's arms. Each other's unwavering home. "As long as the world keeps on spinning, with you by my side, I'll be one happy man."
Forever, and always.