Damon waved as the van pulled away from the house. Painted on the side were the words "Cottonwood Springs Day Camp." He could just make out Trevor waving back through the tinted windows.
Damon was so relieved to see Trevor starting to take an interest in... well, in things that 13-year-olds normally take an interest in. It's not easy for any child when they lose their mother. And heaven knows there were far too many children walking this earth right now who could lay claim to that particular burden. But Trevor, by any measure, had been through a pretty tough year. He had heard--though thankfully not seen--his mother killed by a floater. He had been stranded among strangers for over a week in a place, a regional airport, not equipped to house or feed the hundreds of travelers stranded there for the duration of the alien blackout. He had suffered thirst, hunger, and privation, yet had somehow persevered to be returned, as if by some miracle, to Damon.
And it was a miracle that Trevor had been returned to him. A miracle that the plane Claire and Trevor were scheduled to take had experienced mechanical problems that delayed their flight, a flight that would have had them fatally in midair when the "bad" aliens imposed the initial power blanket. A miracle that Claire had told Trevor to stay inside "with that nice man Kelly" when she stepped outside the terminal building to seek help, and was almost instantly vaporized by a floater, along with the handful of brave souls that had accompanied her. A miracle that Trevor had been able to reach his father by phone so soon after power had been restored, and that transportation had been so quickly arranged, with the assistance of the "good" aliens, to bring Trevor back to his home. And a miracle that Damon still had his son, the one thing still in his life that gave him direction and meaning.
Damon thought back to that fateful week: the initial shock over the undeniable reality of an alien invasion; the growing certitude that he had lost his family; the unexpected appearance of Bobi, and the even more unexpected bonds that had grown between them; and finally, the news of his son's resurrection (at least in Damon's own mind), and confirmation of his wife's demise.
When Damon held both Claire and Bobi in his thoughts, as he did now, it evoked a confounding mixture of despair, loss, longing and... and what? Betrayal? And what should he feel betrayed over? That Claire, who had providentially escaped certain death, should have squandered her reprieve by stepping thoughtlessly into the sights of a floater? That Bobi, who had exploded brilliantly into his life like a Roman candle, should have fizzled out and faded back into the colorless world from which she had come?
Or was it guilt? Guilt that he had surrendered himself to the suddenly revealed needs of a guileless young woman before he was even certain that his wife was gone? Guilt that he had so immersed himself in the sensual bath of Bobi's sexual awakening that he no longer thought of his wife and son? Or the guilt of knowing that since Bobi had driven away down this very street not a day had passed that he had not thought of her, yearned for her.
Yes, she had called. Twice. Just to assure him she was safe and doing well. Could he see her? Well, not right now, that wouldn't be best right now. And then came the note written on plain stationary. "I think it's best that we not see each other," the note said, or something to that effect. He called repeatedly, but she wouldn't pick up. He eventually gave up trying to reach her.
But he couldn't seem to give up the thought of her, nor the memory of those bottomless brown eyes that had gazed at him with such trust and such desire. Nor could he seem to relinquish the possibility that those eyes might be returned to him, somehow, sometime.
From inside the house, Damon heard the phone faintly ringing. He had almost reached the door when he heard from behind him a car drive past on the street. The car slowed, he could hear, but it didn't stop entirely. He turned and recognized it immediately. His heart turned somersaults in his chest. Bobi's car very slowly drove past his house, until it hesitantly came to a stop in front of the house next door. Damon was frozen in place, unable to move, to speak, to breathe. Bobi's car sat motionless for several seconds, then the backup lights lit and the car very slowly reversed until it sat in front of Damon's house.
The car sat there. Damon stood, rooted. No wind stirred the branches, no bird sang, and the sun hung frozen in the heavens. The driver's side door swung open, yet no one emerged for a long time. Finally, Bobi's head appeared above the roof line and she slowly made her way to Damon.
"Bobi," Damon half whispered.
"Yes," she replied, studying the walkway beneath her feet.
Another several breaths.
"You know, I can't tell you how many times I've driven past here, but I've never been able to stop."
"You have?"
"It's stupid, isn't it?"
"Why?"
"Why did I drive by or why didn't I stop? Nevermind, it doesn't matter. I don't know anything anymore."
"Are... are you alright?"
"Are any of us?" she responded cryptically.
"Can you come in?"
Bobi hesitated.
"Sure," she finally replied.
Damon pulled out a chair for her when they reached the kitchen table.
"Would you like some coffee? I've got some still warm in the pot. And I can make some more."
"Sure, that sounds nice. I guess it's kind of our drink."
"Yeah, I guess you're right, it kind of is."
Damon emptied the remains of the pot into a mug and handed it to Bobi, then busied himself making another pot.
"How's Trevor? Has he been coping okay?"
"He had a rough time of it at first, but he's starting to come along. Kids are resilient, if you give 'em a chance. I enrolled him in a summer day camp. I think he's enjoying it."
Damon sat across from Bobi as the new pot of coffee brewed.
"And how are you?"
"I miss you," he blurted out.
Bobi stared into her cup.
"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable. I'm okay. Making do. Trevor keeps me on the straight and narrow."
Damon hesitated.
"But I do miss you."
The new pot had finished brewing, so Damon took Bobi's mug and refilled it, and filled one for himself. As he set hers in front of her, he noticed her eyes were brimming with tears.
"I'm sorry, I've upset you."
He took her hand.
She grasped back tightly for a few seconds, then released his grip to reach into her purse for a tissue, which she used to dab her eyes.
"It hasn't been easy, staying away from here, staying away from you. I've tried so hard to be good."
"What on earth do you mean? I would give almost anything to have you with me. You don't need to stay away on my account!"
"But I have no excuse now! The world isn't ending, the sun still rises, you still have a family."
"A small family. A family that I would like to make whole again."
Bobi looked at him with an expression of surprise equal to the one he wore at his own utterance. He had not consciously come to that conclusion. But having said it, he found nothing that he wanted to take back.
"I barged into your life without an invitation. I haven't earned that place. I should never have come here. This was a mistake."
She stood abruptly, grabbed her purse, and headed towards the front door. Damon leapt up and ran to intercept her.
"Bobi, wait!"
He spun her around to face him. She refused to meet his eyes.
"I don't know what this guilt is that you're carrying around. I'm the one who should feel guilty. I'm the one who slept with a stranger before I knew for sure what had happened to my own family."
"And I'm the one who tempted you into that," she threw back at him, tears flowing freely down her cheeks now. "What does that make me?"
Damon took her by the shoulders.
"Hey! Look at me. Look! We thought the world was ending. For all we knew, we were the last people on earth. Maybe we weren't saints, but we weren't monsters either. We were human, that's all, we were just being human, with all the flaws and weaknesses that come along for the ride!
"Look, I've been torn up, too. I've felt guilty as hell whenever I think of Claire. But you know what? Not a day, not a single, goddamn day has gone by for the last year that I haven't thought of you. Even when I was convinced you never wanted to see me again, I've never stopped thinking about you.
"So, know what I can see now that I haven't seen before, now that you're standing here in front of me? I can see that I was lucky. I was lucky as hell!"
He was nearly shouting now.
"Because if you hadn't come along my wife would still be dead and I'd have this big fucking hole in my life and I wouldn't even have the memories of what we shared together for those few days."
Damon released Bobi's shoulders and took a step back, still breathing heavily from his outburst.
"And I wouldn't have this one last chance to tell you I love you," he said more quietly.
Bobi finally looked up at him.
"I've wanted you so much!" she sniffed. "I've known I didn't deserve it, but I couldn't help myself from wanting you. I tried to ignore it, to pray it away, everything, but I just couldn't help it. Every time I drove past here I wanted to throw open your front door and run into your arms and get lost there again. But I always just drove on past. It just didn't seem right."
"What could be wrong with loving each other?"
Bobi shrugged.
Damon stepped forward and reached out his arms for her. Bobi threw herself into him, clinging to him like a drowning sailor to a raft. She buried her face in his chest, choking out sob after sob.
Damon stroked her hair and gently rocked her back and forth.
"It's okay, it's alright. It'll be alright."
When the tears had slowed somewhat, Damon led Bobi to the nearby living room and sat her next to him on the couch. He leaned forward and brushed away the remaining tears from her cheeks with his thumb.
"I want us to get past this, Bobi. I want you to stay in my life, if that's what you want."
