Chapter Fourteen, pt 1

“I like your hair,” Olive acknowledged, “What made you change it after all this time?”

Ophelia smiled sheepishly as she decided to break it to her gently.

“Well, I figured we both needed a change,” she hedged.

“You’re including Tank in this ‘we’, aren’t you?”

“We didn’t go too mad,” she reassured her, chuckling a little as she recounted their trip, “In fact we found it hard goin’ finding clothes in his size.”

Olive nodded with a faint smile, but remained quiet after that. Ophelia frowned at her manner, and decided to press further.

“You okay?” she asked.

Olive gave a little shrug and a deep sigh before replying.

“I’ve lost a lot of family over the years,” came the sobering response, “It tends to creep up on you sometimes.”

Ophelia found herself swallowing a rising sob in her throat as she crashed back to earth. With all that happened recently; the euphoria of the festival, a new relationship, but also seeing her friend battered and vulnerable, it was easy for her own troubles to be relegated to the back of her mind. Now, talking once more about grief and loss, her legs took on a will of their own as they carried her across to the vast garden that housed Olive’s graveyard. She had a couple of visits to make.

Her eyes scanned the names on the graves as she passed them, some ringing a bell, while others left it untouched. One tombstone’s inscription rang it so hard, the sound waves rippled through her body with a paralysing force. Her jaw hung open as she read the words again, the simple epitaph touching her veins with icy fingers that chilled the blood flowing through them.

Here lies Lyla Grunt,
Mother and former army wife.
R.I.P.

“Oh my god…!” she breathed, slowly backing away. Brought to her senses as the fence behind blocked her path, she broke into a run as she returned inside, shock giving way to determination in her new quest for answers.

“Olive!!”

Olive hadn’t moved from her spot on the sofa, her head slowly raising to meet with the concerned features of her niece.

“How long has Lyla been here?” Ophelia blurted on seeing her.

“Not long,” Olive replied softly, patting the seat next to her.

Frowning at first, Ophelia took the vacant seat as she awaited whatever explanation her aunt had to offer.

“It was the night before you left for that show,” Olive told her, “One of those ‘passing vehicle drops off the luggage’ cases.”

“Oh, I see,” Ophelia acknowledged. With their cemetery holding so many of Olive’s departed family members, one or two unscrupulous people would use her as a free burial service. Fortunately for her, she was still strong enough to oblige without waking Ophelia, who would always be asleep, and with little to no idea of what happened to the poor souls she buried, all she could do was give them a respectable resting place.

“Yes,” Olive mused sadly, deciding to keep quiet the details of Lyla’s condition upon arrival. Her niece was acquainted with the late woman’s sons after all, and knowledge of her death was enough of a burden in itself.

“Great,” Ophelia grumbled, cradling her head in her hand, “How the hell am I gonna break it to the poor guys after everythin’ else that’s happened?!”

“You okay now, sweets?” Johnny asked, tucking a lock of brown hair behind Ripp’s ear as they broke away from their embrace.

“Guess so,” came the soft reply as he looked back into the green eyes of his lover.

“It’ll be okay, really,” Johnny comforted him, before glancing back at his bed. Gently tapping his arm, Johnny pulled off his shirt and watched for a moment as Ripp struggled to remove his. Johnny hooked his fingers under his black garment and slipped it off his body as Ripp raised his arms to aid him, before sadly studying the bruises still upon his pale skin.

“You want help with your jeans?” Johnny offered, noting the hindered movement of Ripp’s fingers as they remained bound by their plaster prison.

“Might be an idea,” Ripp accepted, kicking off his shoes and watching as green fingers worked at the zip. Despite the innocent way in which his jeans were removed, the tenderness in Johnny’s manner as he did so was enough to ignite a spark in the coals of his being, which had been left cold all day from the events of the previous night.

Ripp watched quietly as the green youth continued to strip to his shorts. Kicking away the garments at his feet, he continued to look on as Johnny climbed into his bed, sat up and held the covers aside expectantly. A little smile tugged at Ripp’s lips as he joined him under the bedclothes, and for a moment they laid together in silence. Ripp rested his head upon Johnny’s chest as he longed for nothing more than the sound of his partner’s heartbeat, his fingers idly exploring the contours of the toned green flesh as Johnny’s heart played its lullaby softly into his ear. The events of the day had been sufficiently demanding to the boys for them to quickly succumb to the arms of slumber, although unbeknown to them, one in particular was under scrutiny.

The woman’s eyes fixed upon the brunette mop resting on its makeshift pillow as she drifted silently to his side, a loving sadness etched upon her features as she watched Ripp continue his blissful slumber. She perched on the side of the bed, reaching out with her hand and delicately gliding her icy fingertips along his brow as she continued to study his battered face.

Ripp’s features creased a little into slight discomfort as his skin registered a cool breeze, but on dismissing it as such he remained asleep, in uncomfortable dreams that cruelly reminded him of all that had happened in the space of twenty four hours. Oddly enough, after a while they gave way to more forgiving images, that transported him back in time and into the city hospital. This time however he was far, far younger.

The blond strands of hair lay fast against the woman’s face, heavy and damp with the sweat from her brow, serving as the one remainder of her spent energy earlier on as she recovered enough to gaze fondly down at her reward. Large blue eyes peered with childish curiosity back up at her, registering not only her face but also that of a man, whose smaller green eyes sparkled with delight and affection as he smiled at the bundle in his wife’s arms.

“He’s adorable,” she grinned, watching as the reflex in the infant’s hand tightened his fingers around her pinkie.

“Just like his mom,” the man agreed, tucking a stray lock of blond hair behind her ear as she looked back at him, returning his kiss as he pressed his lips softly against hers.

Her expression then changed a little as her mind drifted back to their earlier conversation.

“You’re not calling him Ripp!” she told him.

“Why not?” came the innocent reply.

“Why not!?” she echoed in disbelief, “Why would you want to?” She chuckled as her tone became playful. “Almost as bad as Tank!”

“Hey!” came the equally light-hearted reply as he nudged her.

“I dunno, you army guys!” she teased.

“You have a problem with army guys, you shouldn’t have married one,” he retaliated with a smile.

“Touché,” she acknowledged, her eyes narrowing as she gazed back at him, “You’re still not calling him Ripp.”

“Better than Tank,” he reminded.

Her head shook slowly from side to side as she wore a knowing smile.

“Ripp!” Buzz exclaimed, “Manners!”

“What’re they?” Lyla grinned playfully in reply.

Buzz arched a disapproving eyebrow as he looked across at her. What with the mischievous sparkle in her eye, and Ripp’s childish giggling playing like music in the background, Buzz found it an uphill struggle to keep his expression serious. He gave up the ghost as he waved his fork at her.

“Now look here Missus,” he admonished with a glimmer of a smile, “You’re supposed to set an example!”

“I am setting an example,” she responded with a fond smile, “They’re both lovely boys aren’t they? No trouble from either of them!”

Buzz’s smile grew wider as he looked back at them. It was true, he had to admit; while Tank seemed to be the more boisterous of the two, there had never been any complaints from kindergarten about them. In fact Ripp seemed to be very popular with the teachers, all saying similar things; he may need a rocket up his backside, but he was already melting the hearts of any adult who crossed his path. Just a pity that the other children took that to mean he was a pushover, although Tank would often defend him in such an instance.

A tear trickled down Ripp’s cheek as the early memories flowed through his mind. Things were so nice back then… when did it all go wrong? Was it when Buck was being nurtured in their mother’s womb, or did it start before then? It was definitely more noticeable at that point in time.

“He did it again!” he shrieked in delight, pulling his hand back from her swollen belly as she chuckled.

“Sure did,” she grinned, nursing her bump, “He can hear us, you know.”

“Cool!” he observed, before turning his attentions to his unborn sibling, “Hey there! I’m your big brother Ripp! There’s Tank too, he’s not here right now…”

The smile slipped from Lyla’s face at his words as a by now familiar sound filtered through the open door. She gazed with sadness back at her son as she ruffled his hair.

“You go play for a while, huh?” she told him, “I need to go somewhere.”

Ripp cocked his head as he noted her change of expression.

“You okay Mom?” he asked as he looked up at her.

“Sure,” she smiled, trying her best to mask her mounting worry. She walked away, but Ripp followed in her footsteps as she approached the room, both watching with varying concern as they found both father and the other son.

“That’s it! Good lad!”

Ripp backed away from the sight, uncomfortably crossing his arms as he felt his stomach tie into knots. Something was happening to his big brother; before Ripp’s very eyes he was slowly starting to change. Tank wasn’t as nice anymore, and it was all driving a wedge between the two boys. Was his dad teaching him to be mean? Why would he do such a thing?

“Buzz,” Lyla chided, this time deadly serious as she approached, “The boy’s only six! There’s plenty of time for him to decide what he wants.”

“He asked what this was for, so I showed him,” came the indignant reply as Buzz indicated the punchbag, “He’s been enjoying it, haven’t you Tank?” he finished, addressing the perspiring boy by the bag.

Tank eagerly nodded in reply, his energy levels beginning to catch up with the epic proportions of his father as he bounced about on his feet. However much energy he’d already spent in training, there was plainly still more where that came from.

“What else are you teaching him, Buzz?” she challenged, seemingly reading Ripp’s mind as she stroked her swollen stomach.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” he asked, genuinely puzzled.

She glanced at Tank, before shaking her head as she once more faced her husband. “Not in front of the kids,” she told him, “I know you’re there, Ripp.”

So saying she turned to face the little boy, who peered up at her with glassy eyes.

“I’m not silly,” he whimpered, before scurrying into his bedroom.

“No,” Lyla muttered under her breath, “In fact it’s times like this I wish you weren’t so insightful.”

Ripp stirred again in his bed, still asleep, but now something was starting to seem amiss. Where had that last part come from? He was in his room, how would he know what his mother had thought or spoken after that?

“Mom!! Mom, don’t leave!”

Lyla turned to face Ripp with a look of despair. She had hoped to slink away without him noticing, as she knew he would take it the hardest.

“I’m sorry Ripp,” she explained, “But I can’t stay here anymore…”

“But why??” he wailed, “Things can be better, please…!”

She sighed as she crouched down to his level, the look of his stricken face enough to trigger tears of her own as she reached to comb through his brown hair.

“I have tried my hardest, I really have,” she told him, “But things are getting worse, not better…”

“It’s Dad isn’t it?” he guessed, “He’s making Tank like him, they’re both so nasty to me…”

“I know,” she agreed, “It’s both of us. I don’t understand it any more than you do…”

“If you can’t stay, take me with you,” he begged her.

“Oh Ripp,” she uttered, her already broken heart losing another piece of itself as she stroked his cheek, “I don’t know where I’m going to go, I can’t put that onto you too…”

“Please Mom,” he pleaded, “I hate it there…”

“I know, sweetheart,” she conceded, “But here at least you have a roof over your head; I can’t promise that wherever it is I’ll be.”

“But…”

“I’ll stay in touch, okay?” she told him, “That I can promise.”

Ripp could only nod as he accepted her embrace, watching as the taxi left before bursting into tears. With the yellow vehicle carrying his only role model out of his life, Ripp had never felt so alone.

“Eeeeew!” he grimaced in between giggles, sloppily wiping at his mouth.

The girl who kissed him tittered as she watched, unaware that there was an underlying depth to his disgust.

“Your turn!” she hinted, running off.

Ripp watched her go, completely disinterested. He gave chase, but instinct drove him in another direction.

“What’re you doing?!” his target complained, “The girls are over there!”

“So?” he shrugged innocently.

The school whistle sounded, and a teacher came over to intervene.

“Miss!” the boy protested, “He’s trying to kiss me!”

“You playing kiss-chase?” she checked.

The boys nodded in reply, but Ripp remained at a loss as to where the problem laid.

“Ripp, in kiss-chase the boys go after the girls,” she explained, “And the girls after the boys.”

“Why?” he asked.

The teacher straightened up in reply, frowning at his question.

“What do you mean ‘why’?” she checked, “Boys don’t kiss other boys…”

“Why not?!” Ripp pressed, his voice raising in frustration, “I don’t like kissing girls, they feel all slimy…”

“You’re bound to think that at first,” she started, but Ripp adamantly shook his head.

“I don’t like it, Miss!” he decided.

“I think you’d better see the principal,” she told him, “Tell him what you’re telling me.”

“I will,” he growled as he stormed off, “And I’m gonna tell him what you said too!”

Ripp had been immensely grateful that the principal had offered such an understanding ear, listening with genuine sympathy as he presented his case. After learning that he wasn’t in fact abnormal, as the others were now leading him to believe, he had another problem on his hands. His overbearing father had already made known his feelings on the matter, and with the only chance he had to speak to his mother being in the presence of his other family, he was again feeling isolated. The principal was too busy, and everyone else treated him with contempt. With no one else to confide in, he began to wonder how he would cope, although a little while later he sought relief in the form of drum lessons. They provided one way for him to unleash his feelings at least, yet it became apparent as he grew older that they wouldn’t be enough.

The woman’s head lowered in despair as she took on board these latest developments that filtered into her mind. Realising she had much to catch up on, she cast her own unhappy memories to the wayside as she decided to probe further. She had to know how he had lived since her departure, what he had to put up with. She sensed a great desolation within his soul, which had shown itself once already in the salty waters seeping from his closed eyes. What had become of the only boy she had been able to bond with as things crumbled around their ears?