Streak - 50. Chapter 50-Final Chapter

March 19, 2003

Escorial, CA

Will

“Where have you been?” Zach asked, since I’d vanished for half an hour.

“In the kitchen,” I said.

“Dude, it’s almost time for dinner,” Zach said. “Not even I’m that hungry that I can’t wait.”

“Sometimes you are,” I joked. “I’m in charge of dinner tonight.”

“Yeah, I heard about that,” he said. “Frank is nervous.”

“Nothing to worry about,” I said playfully. “He’ll like it.”

“So what are you doing?” he asked me suspiciously.

“It’s a surprise,” I said, and then before he could argue, I got all task-oriented. “Time to get ready.”

We went into the bathroom together, and he was studying me in an intense way. “What?”

“Are you happy?”

“What are you talking about?” I asked, totally wondering why he’d raised this issue. And even more worried about what this new line of conversation would mean.

“I mean, I’ve been living here with you for a couple of months, and I’m just wondering if I get in your way,” he said.

I rolled my eyes at him knowingly. Every once in a while, he’d get these insecurity attacks, as I called them, where he’d start to question whether things were OK, whether he was OK. “Things have been a lot different since you moved in,” I said seriously.

“I’m sorry,” he said, starting to freak out, until he saw me smile, then he frowned in annoyance.

“I have never been happier in my life than I am now, with you here,” I said sincerely, with an intensity that seemed to convince him. “It amazes me how good we are together.”

“I’m happy too, but I did just fall into your world, and sometimes I worry that I’m cramping your style.”

“I’ve been wanting you here for over a year now,” I said. “I usually get what I want.”

He chuckled. “Usually.” We spruced up our appearances, and then headed up to the dining room. The first person I saw when I walked in was Stef.

“You’re back!” I said enthusiastically, and gave Stef a big hug. He’d been in Connecticut for business.

“Thank you for the warm welcome,” he said.

I greeted everyone else, and then sat in my normal place, next to Zach. It was just like old times, with Frank and Grandmaman here, along with Grand and Stef. We were missing Dad, but we’d added Zach. I decided that was a good trade off. “And since you have seized control of our menu this evening, I am interested to see what we are having for dinner,” Grand said.

“You are in charge of dinner?” Stef asked. “I may starve.”

“Since you rarely eat anything anyway, that’s not going to happen,” I said to him, even as I stood up. At precisely 7:05, just as I’d ordained, two of our staff members came out carrying covered plates and set them in the center of the table. “Tonight, you have a choice of two different meals.”

“Indeed?” Grand asked curiously.

“Indeed,” I answered, smiling at him. “For those of you who are true Americans, loyal Americans, sworn to destroy all evil terrorists, we have the all-American special for you.” I took off the lid of one of the plates, revealing a monster cheeseburger with fries. There was a little paper American flag stuck into the bun.

“Do we have to swear to destroy all evil terrorists to eat one of those?” Zach asked.

“Communist,” I accused in a joking way. “This is a half pound of prime ground beef, derived from cattle grown on American land eating American grain, or wheat, or whatever cows eat.”

“I believe the best beef comes from cattle that mostly eat grass, with perhaps some hay mixed in,” Grand said. Of course he’d know that.

“This cheese is American, of course,” I said, “and for your side, you have that American classic: Freedom fries.”

“Freedom fries,” Stef said with disdain. The Congress had declared that they were renaming French fries and French toast to Freedom fries and Freedom toast, to snub French President Jacques Chirac, who wouldn’t go along with their hare-brained plan to invade Iraq.

“And for those of you who prefer an alternative, we have here the French cheese-eating, surrender monkey meal,” I said, pulling the lid off the other plate. “It includes those two French delicacies, escargot and frog legs, along with a sampling of cheeses.”

Stef stood up and looked at both plates closely. “If there were ever a question as to why obesity is such a problem in America, these two meals would explain it.”

“So shall I put you down for the French surrender monkey plate?” I asked. Grand was chuckling, and that made me happy, because that meant I’d achieved my goal. I’d attempted to cheer him up, to get him out of his funk, and I’d resolved to try at least one thing every week to achieve that goal.

“I am a lover, not a fighter,” Stef said, cracking us all up.

“I will join Stefan, and celebrate the fare from my native land,” Grandmaman said. Everyone else took the cheeseburger.

As we sat there eating, I flipped one of my fries onto Stef’s plate, since he was sitting across from me. “Sorry. It’s hard to contain these fries. They’re all into freedom.”

“Or perhaps your freedom fry has realized that true freedom is more than just a flag and a slogan,” he said with a raised eyebrow, even as he took a bite out of it.

“Perhaps,” I said, chuckling. “How was Dad?”

“He is doing quite well,” Stef said. “As long as he is not away from Marc for too long.” Even he was annoyed by how completely linked Dad and Marc were.

“Too long is about eight hours,” I grumbled.

“I think that perhaps you are being optimistic,” Stef said, rolling his eyes.

“So he rushed you back,” I summarized. “Does that mean you didn’t go up and see JJ?”

“Your father spoke to him on the phone and JJ indicated that he would prefer that we not come up,” Stef said.

“And you guys believed that?” I asked, totally stunned at them. “Seriously?”

“Why would we not believe him?” Stef asked, only now he was annoyed with me.

“Because he says that when he doesn’t want to be bothered, but that’s when he needs to be bothered the most.” They all looked at me, confused, but then again, they hadn’t grown up with JJ’s weird moods. “He’s really down about tearing his ACL.”

“Even though the surgery went well?” Grand asked.

“Matt said he was re-examined yesterday and things looked good, but he’s still out for the rest of the year,” I explained. How come Dad and Stef didn’t know this shit?

“I am glad to hear he is recovering well,” Grandmaman said.

“Spring break is next week,” I said. “I’m going to spend it in Boston.”

“Not the ultimate Spring Break destination,” Frank joked. We all chuckled, but it was starting to really piss me off that none of these people seemed to give a shit about JJ.

“JJ’s there, so I’m going to try and cheer him up,” I said.

“Tiffany is about to have her baby, I would think,” Grandmaman said. “Are you going to Boston as well?” she asked Zach.

“I’m going to LA,” he said, and looked at me apologetically, but there was no need. We’d worked this out a while back. “The coach asked me to come down to UCLA over Spring Break.”

“You must stay in Malibu while you are there,” Stef said. “I will make sure you have all the door codes, and there is a spare Ferrari in the garage you can drive.”

I laughed. “Most places don’t come with a Ferrari to drive.”

“No kidding,” Zach said. “I appreciate that, but I’m probably going to stay on campus.”

“Well, it is an option,” Stef said.

“When are you flying to Boston?” Grand asked.

“I’m leaving on Saturday morning,” I told him. “The plane has to come back, so it’s flying out to pick me up on the following weekend. Probably on Saturday.”

“Then, if it does not inconvenience you, I think I will join you on your trek out there, so I can see JJ,” Grand said. “I can fly back on Sunday, or possibly even Monday.”

I smiled broadly at that, at someone finally showing some concern for JJ. “I think that will be awesome,” I told him.

In one of the funnier Escorial dinner moments, there was complete silence after that, while everyone suddenly got that they’d totally blown JJ off. “I think I can join you,” Stef said, as he pulled out his calendar. Zach and I smirked at each other, trying not to laugh out loud.

“Perhaps we can fly out on the following weekend,” Grandmaman said, but it was more of a question, directed at Frank.

“I can do that,” he said.

“I’m sure JJ will appreciate seeing all of you,” I said, then looked at Stef. “If you see Dad this week, maybe you can drop that suggestion in his lap.”

“I will do just that,” he said.

“He can bring Marc along,” I said.

“That is probably the only way we can lure him to go,” Stef said in frustration.

We’d been sitting there for twenty minutes when my phone vibrated. I usually ignored it during dinner, but it stopped, then started again, which meant someone really wanted to talk to me. I pulled it out and saw from the caller-ID that it was Wade. Shit, this could be anything, but it would most likely involve either JJ or Tiffany. I got up and left the room, remembering to give Grand and Grandmaman an apologetic look as I did.

“Hey,” I said as I answered the phone.

“Sorry to bug you during dinner,” Wade said, sounding agitated.

“Well, since you did, what’s up?” I asked pleasantly.

“The war just started,” he said. “I was watching TV, and Bush came on and announced that it had started.”

“Fuck,” I said, feeling the sadness and depression overwhelming me.

“I just thought you’d want to know,” he said, catching my mood.

“Thanks,” I said, and then we ended the call. I paused for a minute to think about what this meant, that we’d be sending a bunch of soldiers into harm’s way for no good reason at all, and that fully deflated what was left of my good mood. I walked back into the dining room and everyone got nervous on seeing my expression.

“Is everyone alright?” Grandmaman asked urgently.

“The war started,” I said, my eyes focused on Grand.

It was incredible to watch him in action during times like this. He summoned one of the kitchen staff. “I am sorry to inconvenience you, but can you set up a tray for me and anyone else who wants to join me, so I can finish this wonderful meal in the television room?”

“Certainly, Dr. Crampton,” she said.

“I’ll need one too,” I said to her, even as I followed Grand into the television room. “Wade said that Bush came on and said that things had started.”

“I’m not surprised,” Grand said. Zach joined us as well, as we flipped on the television and watched the footage from Baghdad, and various other places.

“I’m not saying that this is a good idea, but it’s kind of exciting,” Zach said, then looked at both of us nervously.

“That is a normal reaction, especially in the beginning of a war. The populace is fired up, with expectations of a quick and easy victory,” Grand said.

“They’ve been comparing our forces to the Iraqi army, and it doesn’t look all that tough,” Zach said.

“Especially after the pasting we gave them in Kuwait,” I augmented.

“You would both be wise to avoid falling into that trap of complacency,” Grand said, irritated. That alone told both of us how upset he was. “And even if the initial battle is relatively easy, the aftermath will undoubtedly include a civil war, and that will be messy.”

“We’re there, so won’t we be able to stop a civil war?” Zach asked.

“We will stop terrorists with tanks?” he asked acidly. “Iraq is a dictatorship, with power vested almost exclusively in Saddam Hussein. If he is removed, there will be a huge power vacuum, and as there is no clear leader, it will be ugly. It was much the same during the French Revolution, where once the King was removed; it took time, and a lot of blood, to fill the void he left.”

“Oh,” Zach said, and then we shut up and watched the television. It was fascinating, in that I was totally transfixed on the bombing and the reports that were coming back. There were a lot of segues to discuss new weapons, especially smart bombs, that could zero in on a target in an amazingly precise way. And there were a lot of reports about military successes and advances. But Grand’s words rankled in my mind. He wasn’t always right, but he usually was, especially about stuff like this.

March 24, 2003

Boston, MA

Will

“So what’s your plan for today?” I asked JJ as we sat eating breakfast. He was remarkably pleasant to everyone but me, which didn’t surprise me at all. In a weird, twisted kind of way, it was flattering. I knew how upset he was about his knee, and how hard he was trying to recover from the surgery. I could appreciate that he largely hid that to make sure he was pleasant around Matt and Wade, and that he was charming enough that Alex would want to spend time with him. For Tiffany, he reserved a polite but frigid demeanor, to let her know how pissed off at her he was, without being openly obnoxious about it.

“Same thing I do every day,” he said. “Physical therapy and school.”

“Nice that you have a routine,” I quipped, and got an annoyed look from him.

“Are you staying here all week?” he asked, implying that he wanted me to leave. He didn’t, but he was trying to spark a fight with me to work off some of his annoyance.

“Absolutely,” I said cheerfully. “I’m so glad I get to spend time with you.” It was hilarious to see how much that bugged him.

“What are you going to do while I’m busy?”

“This afternoon I’m going to spend some time with Matt,” I told him. “He had to go downtown for something, but he’ll be back after lunch.”

“So you’re just going to hang out here until then?” he asked.

“I am,” I told him. “Want to do something?”

“I told you that I’m busy,” he snapped.

“It’s all good,” I said calmly. “I planned to finish breakfast, and then take a nap.”

“Don’t work too hard,” he said, being catty. “I have to go.”

“Have fun,” I said.

“This is not fun,” he said emphatically. “None of it is fun. Physical therapy is boring and painful, and studying is almost worse.”

“Try to have a positive attitude,” I said in a rah-rah way. “If you think it’s fun, it will be.”

“Fuck you,” he said, and stomped out of the room, leaving me in the kitchen, smiling.

“He will not admit it, but he likes that you are here,” Rosa said, grinning at me.

“I know,” I told her. “He needs someone to be pissed off at. For this week, I give him a convenient target.”

One of the nurses came bursting into the kitchen in a near panic. “Miss Tiffany’s water just broke!” You’d think that a nurse would be a little calmer about this thing.

“I’ll go check on her,” I said, and zipped up the two flights of stairs to her level. She was in the bathroom, sitting on the toilet, looking pretty shitty. “Heard you’re leaking.”

“I ooze fluids from damn near every orifice in my body,” she complained. “What are you doing in my bathroom?”

“Checking up on you,” I said pleasantly. I was evidently destined to be her bitch too. “You need to go to the hospital?”

She looked at me blankly, and then nodded. “It’s time.”

“I’ll have them bring the car around while you put yourself together, at least as much as you can,” I said.

“Just get the fuck out of here,” she said, but in a playful way. I called downstairs and had them bring the car around, then let Rosa know what was going on. I waited until Tiffany walked out of the room and then escorted her down the elevator and out to the car.

“You think this is like last time, where it’s just a false alarm?” When she’d had Riley, she’d had a few of those.

She shook her head. “No, it’s time. Both of us are ready for it to be time.” She was pretty big, bigger than she’d been with Riley, and she’d been pretty miserable lately. “Plus you’re here, and you’re my lucky labor charm.”

“Figures,” I grumbled. “None of the fun of conception, but I get to be there for the birth.”

“With Matt and Wade, conception is pretty fun,” she said with a leer, just to mess with me.

“No doubt,” I said. It was a short ride to the hospital, and once we got there, they whisked her off to get her ready, leaving me all by myself. I took that opportunity to call Wade and Matt and let them know what was going on, and I also called Escorial to tell them. I thought about calling my father, but changed my mind. If he wanted to know what was going on, he was going to have to be a little more involved.

Dad had decided not to come out this last weekend, which was fine with me except I was worried it would bother JJ. In the end, JJ seemed happy enough just having Grand and Stef along. I was willing to cut my father some slack on this if he showed up next weekend, but if he didn’t, when I eventually saw him again, he was in for a relatively unpleasant experience.

“Mr. Schluter,” an orderly said.

“Yes?”

“Ms. Van den Boss said that you were her coach,” she told me. “We need to get you into scrubs.”

“Sounds good,” I said, grinning. I went through the familiar routine, putting on the hospital garb and sterilizing my hands, and then they led me in to where Tiffany was in the bed. “Seems we’ve done this before,” I said to her cheerfully.

“We make a good team,” she joked, then cringed as she had a contraction.

“You think this will take a long time, like it did for Riley?”

She shook her head, but didn’t speak until the contraction had passed. “Not this time. This baby is coming out fast and furious. Shit, I’m already almost dilated.”

“You’ve got a body made for birthing babies,” I said, giving her shit.

“Yeah, right,” she grumbled, and then we both laughed.

“Why didn’t you find out if it was a boy or a girl?” That seemed totally out of character for her, and for Matt and Wade.

“We couldn’t tell during the first couple of ultrasounds,” she said. “We could have done another one, just to see if we could figure it out, but I decided that if I was meant to know, I’d have found out during the other ultrasounds.”

Her doctor came in, and this time it was a woman, a very attractive woman. “Dr. Janet Douglass,” she said curtly, introducing herself to me.

“Will Schluter,” I said in a friendly way, but she didn’t really give a shit about me.

“How are you?” she asked Tiffany.

“Good,” Tiffany said, and then cringed from a contraction.

“This baby is in a hurry,” she said.

“The first one wasn’t,” Tiffany said.

“Second babies are often faster, and they are usually easier,” she said.

“Usually,” I augmented, giving Tiffany shit. The doctor gave me a dirty look, since she didn’t understand how Tiffany and I communicated.

“Let’s take a look,” she said, and started to probe Tiffany’s groin.

“I think you did this just so you could get a hot woman to probe your vagina,” I said to Tiffany.

“I don’t need to get pregnant to do that,” she said, cracking me up, and making me laugh even harder when the doctor glanced up at her in surprise.

“Is he always his obnoxious?” the doctor asked Tiffany, referring to me. Tiffany really laughed at that, only it was cut short by a contraction.

“Always,” Tiffany said.

“It’s my way,” I told the doctor, even as I felt Tiffany’s hand grasp mine firmly.

“I’m so glad you’re here, doing this with me,” she said to me sincerely.

“So am I,” I said, with just as much meaning. “You make beautiful babies.”

“I do,” she said. “And it’s nice to have someone here with me who doesn’t hate me.”

“I realize that’s a challenge for you,” I joked, getting a chuckle from her, but her face wrinkled up in anguish. “Look, you had to do this, had to stop coaching. You’d be at the Worlds, like this? No fucking way.”

“I know,” she said, and started crying. “But to do it during a press conference was pretty awful.”

“So why did you do it?”

She shrugged. “It was one of those times where my logic left me. I was there, watching JJ win, and I realized that it just wasn’t all that important to me. And I knew that he needed someone to coach him who was totally into him and his program. I’d been that person, but I couldn’t do it anymore.”

“So it just kind of slipped out,” I summarized. She nodded. “So you owe him an apology for that, but not for quitting. That’s all you. You get to decide how you live your life.”

She grimaced, either from a contraction or from thinking about JJ. “I tried to apologize, but he’s so pissed off at me, he’s not listening.”

“He will, eventually,” I told her. She looked at me and clearly didn’t believe me. “He has to pout and sulk about it for a while.”

“He blames me for his injury.”

“So. It’s not your fault. You know that, I know that, and everyone but JJ knows that. He’ll figure it out in the end.” I squeezed her hand. “I’ll have Darius explain it to him. He’ll toss in a punch or two to make his point.”

She chuckled, but then she grimaced, and this time, the contraction was a long one.

“This baby is ready to make a debut,” the doctor said. And just like it had been with Riley, the attention shifted entirely to Tiffany’s vagina. I hadn’t really thought things would move that quickly, but they did. First we saw that unmistakable shape of the head as it forced its way through her birth canal, and then, with the head out, the rest of the baby came out like a rocket shooting out of a cannon. “Congratulations, Ms. Van den Boss. You have a son.”

“He’s a boy?” Tiffany asked, even as they handed her the crying, wet thing.

“That’s what this means,” the doctor said, exposing his penis.

“Dude, he’s already hung,” I joked, getting a dirty look from the doctor.

“Cut the cord for me, Will,” Tiffany directed. And just like I’d done with Riley, I cut the umbilical cord where the doctor indicated.

“We have to weigh him, and get him cleaned up,” the nurse said, taking the baby from Tiffany. Neither one of them was happy about it, but they acquiesced.

“When Riley was born, you were pretty sure that Wade was the father,” I said. “You know this time?”

She smiled serenely. “I’d say, from the way he was so damn impatient, and from all the pain and suffering he caused me during pregnancy, that this one is probably Matt’s.” I laughed with her, even though I’d gotten the same vibe.

“You decide what you’re going to name him?”

“Not yet,” she said. “Matt likes Joshua, and I do too.”

“I’ve got another suggestion for you,” I told her. “He was born on March 24.”

“So? What difference does that make?” she asked.

“I think you should name him Robert,” I told her, even as I felt tears forming in my eyes.

Tiffany gasped, even as she looked at me. “Today was Robbie’s birthday.”

“Nothing would have made him happier than being a grandfather,” I said.

“He would have felt old,” she said, reminding me of Robbie’s battle to stay young.

“I think this would have trumped that, in his mind.”

“You’re probably right,” she said. “Robert Edward van den Boss Carrswold. Has a nice ring to it.”

“Edward?”

“For Matt’s father, so he doesn’t feel left out,” she said, in what was a very intuitive and thoughtful gesture. “Four names though. That’s a lot.”

“I have four names,” I told her.

“Does that mean he’ll be like you?” she asked, horrified.

“No, it’s worse than that. He’ll probably be like you.”

“Fuck,” she said, cracking us both up.