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Settling Down, Part 3
Tim sat on the couch, flipping through through the latest Sports Illustrated as he waited for Al to get ready for the birthday party. Mindy had decreed, in that random and authoritative way she had, that she wanted everyone to dress up for her party. Tim's concession to this demand was to wear a pair of suit trousers and tuck his shirt in. He drew the line at ties and jackets.
“Can you please come help me?” Al shouted down to him.
He dropped the magazine and went upstairs. He found her in her room, struggling with the zipper of her dress.
“I got it,” he told her, putting a hand on her hip to steady the dress while the other hand went to the zipper. He could feel the dress was soft velvet and he tried not to get distracted by her bare back. He pulled the zipper slowly and carefully until it reached the top. Then he took a few steps back and watched her her turn around.
The dress was perfect: the top was sleeveless and clingy with a deep-V of a neckline; the skirt was kicky and full. The royal blue made her eyes sparkle and he loved the way her curls fell around her bare shoulders.
Her smile was a little shy and hesitant. “Well?”
“You look good....like really good.” He couldn't take his eyes off of her. She always looked good to him, but it was a cute, sweet, wholesome sort of good. He loved that about her, but he had to admit, he was secretly thrilled to find out she could be smoking hot when she wanted to be.
She smiled and went over to her dresser and put on a pair of pearl earrings. She handed him a pearl necklace and held up her hair so he could fasten the clasp for her.
“You know, someone's going to ask and this is the one wedding thing we haven't talked about yet – where do you want to go for our honeymoon?” she asked as she turned around. He was nearly too dazed to answer.
“Anywhere you want, as long as you promise to wear that dress.”
She laughed. “Key West, then. Although, velvet and humidity are probably not a great combination.”
“Key West.... You promise to wear some cute little sundresses and we've got a deal.”
“What's with you and this sudden dress obsession? Are you trying to change me into a girly-girl?”
He put his forearms on her shoulders, clasped his hands together behind her head and leaned his forehead down to meet hers. “One, it's more of a you-obsession You just look really hot and I'm a guy – I can't help but like that. Two, I'm just trying to expand your fashion horizons.”
“That's really rich coming from a guy who thinks plaid is an actual color.”
He slid his arms down, putting his hands on her back and drawing her closer, his mouth practically on her ear and his voice a growling whisper. “If you want to know the truth, the whole point of getting you in a dress is getting you out of it anyway.”
Al laughed. “What's it matter if we end up in the same place anyway?”
Tim gave her a squeeze and then let her go, knowing that they had to leave soon and the longer he waited, the more difficult it would be to take his hands off of her. He picked up Mindy's present from the bed.
“Why bother with wrapping paper and bows if she's only going to find out what's in it anyway?” he asked with a smile
Al nodded, grabbed the keys from the dresser, and tossed them to him.
“You're driving.”
“What about Rock-Paper-Scissors?” he asked, since that's how they usually handled these things.
“Nope. I'm sick of losing and can't remember the last time you were the designated driver.”
Tim laughed and held out his arm to her. The sooner they went to this party, he figured, the sooner he could get her home and out of that dress.
*** **** *** **** *** **** *** **** *** **** *** **** *** **** *** ****
Billy greeted them at the door, looking very Sopranos in a dark suit with a black shirt and black tie. The tie was slightly askew and he'd already undone the top button, which ruined the effect a little, but then, Billy had never been exactly comfortable in a suit. Tim grinned at his brother, knowing that he'd do anything for Mindy and thinking that was kind of sweet.
“Al, wow. Just. Wow.” Billy blinked, his mouth hanging open in surprise until Al slugged him in the arm.
“Shit. Timmy, your girl's got a problem with violence. You might want to get some help for that, sweetheart.” He stepped aside to let them into the party, an affair that bore more than a passing resemblance to the Riggins' parties of old, except that everyone was dressed really well. And the kegs were gone in favor of an elaborately stocked bar in the kitchen.
“The kids are at Angela's for the weekend,” explained Billy, answering Tim's unasked question. “Beer's in the fridge and Al, I got that Scotch you like, that frog stuff.”
Al smiled and thanked him, knowing that he meant Laphroaig. Tim took her hand and led her to the kitchen, where he poured the Scotch for her and then got a beer for himself.
“I'm going to go find Mindy,” she said.
He nodded and watched her walk away. He didn't know how he was going to be able to focus on anything or anyone else tonight. He moved to the edge of the kitchen. The quarterback from Billy's Panther days came over to talk to Tim, who nodded in the right places but kept his eyes on Al as she greeted Mindy. The quarterback drifted away eventually.
Tim watched Al move through the party, talking and laughing to just about anyone. She accidently crashed into Landry, which made Tim smile, until he realized that Landry's eyes were firmly fixed on Al's cleavage. Tim started to head over to set him straight when he saw Al snap her fingers up by her head and say something. From the way Landry's head snapped up and face reddened, Tim could only imagine that she'd said something along the lines of “Hey, my eyes are up here.”
“Your girl can take care of herself,” said Tyra, sliding up next to him.
Tim grinned. “Well, she's a Collette after all. I expect nothing less. You're not going to go kick Landry's ass now, are you?”
She shook her head.
Tim raised an eyebrow. “Seriously? Just going to let that one slide?”
Tyra sighed. “I don't know. It's just like this thing with Landry is starting to feel like it's run its course.”
Tim laughed. “Run its course. You make it sound like a fever or an illness or something.”
“When you guys got engaged, I kind of thought I'd feel jealous, you know, that he hadn't asked me yet, but then I realized that all I felt was relieved. I'm getting itchy, I guess, wondering what else is out there.”
Unsure of how to respond to that, Tim took a drink from his beer.
“Well, look, it's a party, you should go mingle or whatever,” said Tyra, suddenly uncomfortable that she'd talked to Tim about her relationship problems.
“Look, Tyra, I'm not Dear Abby or anything. I don't have all the answers, but I hope you figure it out.”
“Thanks, Tim.”
Tim moved over to where Al was still talking to Landry. He stood behind her and put one hand lightly on her hip, smiling when she leaned back against his chest and looked up at him.
“Why does no one in this town respect Batman?” she asked. The way she was leaning back gave Tim a great view down her dress. He smiled.
“I dunno. They're all a bunch of ignorant savages, 'specially Lando here. Right?”
“Yeah, absolutely right. I've got to go.....somewhere,” said Landry uneasily as he backed away and headed toward Tyra.
Tim lowered his head and kissed her neck lightly. “C'mon. Let's go to my old room and mess around.”
“Mmmm. Tempting. But I'm going to say no.” She stepped away from him, turned around and gave him a smoldering look. “But I'll say yes later at home.”
Before he could say anything, she'd slipped away back into the party. Fine, he could play that teasing Waiting Game too. And that's just what he did for the next few hours – whispering suggestive comments in her ear when he was standing near her, brushing his hands lightly against her shoulders when he walked past her, catching her eye from across the room. He even got back at her by catching her in the dark, empty hallway and kissng her hard, then leaving her standing there surprised and frustrated.
They couldn't be the first ones to leave, it would look bad. But as soon as a few people left, they said their goodbyes and left.
After driving home in record time, Tim unlocked their front door and pushed it open, walking in before Al. She followed him in and was barely through the doorway when he caught her in one arm while shutting the door with the other. Then he pinned her against the wall and put the last several hours of longing into his kiss.
He could hear George whimpering in his crate in the kitchen, but it was a distant hum. Except that he knew if he could hear it, Al could hear it and that she was going to want to do something about it. The knowledge took him out of the moment and made him pull back from her with a groan.
“I know...I have to let the dogs out,” he said, bending at the knee so he could lift her up, one arm under her knees, the other around her back. He kissed her as he walked, happy that the living room didn't have much furniture to trip over. He put her down on the couch.
“Don't go anywhere.”
She looked up at him in a way that nearly made him forget about the dogs. “Where could I possibly want to go?”
He left her with one lingering kiss and then walked swiftly to the kitchen, where he let George out of the crate and slid open the back door so both dogs could run around the fenced-in back yard. Returning to the living room, he sat down on the edge of the couch, looking down at Al.
They hadn't bothered to turn on any lights, but the dim streetlight filtering in through the windows was enough. He paused for a minute, enjoying both the way she looked and the way she was looking at him.
“What are you waiting for?” she asked, as she grabbed a handful of shirt, pulled him down and kissed him with an intensity that made his heart race.
The dress felt good under his hands, soft and smooth, but her skin felt even better. She was unbuttoning his shirt and he was just about to go for the zipper on her dress when the doorbell rang.
“You expecting anyone?” he whispered.
She shook her head.
“Me neither,” he said and returned to what he'd been doing.
But the doorbell was insistent and shrill. Soon, Bruno raced into the living room, barking, with George right behind him. Tim groaned and rested his forehead on Al's shoulder, then stood up reluctantly.
He turned on the porch light and then pulled open the door to find Walt standing there, blinking in the sudden light. Al whistled the dogs away from the door as she sat up, adjusting her dress and pushing her stray curls back behind her ears.
“What the hell are you doing here?”
“Timmy, please. Can I just come in for two minutes? I need to talk to you.” Walt looked pale and drawn. His shoulders were hunched and his hands were stuffed in his pockets.
Tim looked back at Al and sighed.
“Two minutes and then I'll leave you alone. I promise. Please?”
Tim stepped outside, pulling the door shut behind him. “Two minutes. What do you want?”
“Timmy, you know I hate asking you for anything and I know I screwed up last time, but I need help.”
Tim folded his arms and stared at his father, but didn't say anything.
“Billy was right – I can't golf like I used to and my gal, well, once the money dried up, she threw me out. I got no place to stay.”
“You're not staying here.”
“I know that, I don't expect that at all. I was hoping maybe you could talk to Billy, get me a job at the garage. I can still fix cars, you know I taught you a lot.”
Tim closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose, wishing he had some kind of superpower that could make people he didn't want to see disappear.
Truth was, most of the stuff Walt had taught him had nothing to do with cars and nothing to do with the kind of person Tim wanted to be. And Billy, there was no way Billy was ever going to go for this.
Tim shook his head. “No. And you need to leave.”
He felt Walt's hand on his shoulder and he shrugged it off and stepped away. “Seriously, you need to leave. I don't wanna see you again.”
He glared at Walt, watching as the man turned slowly and walked back to his truck. He paused, about halfway there and looked back. He looked like he might say something, but instead he just shook his head and kept walking.
Tim watched until his father had driven away, then he went back into the house. Al had turned on one of the lamps and was sitting on the couch. She looked up at him anxiously, but said nothing. He sat down next to her, leaning forward to put his elbows on his knees and hide his face in his hands. He felt her hand on his back, a soft, gentle pressure on his tense muscles.
“You want to talk about it?”
He dropped his hands from his face and turned to look back at her. He shook his head.
“Nothing to talk about, really. He's gone. Again. I hope for good because I don't know what else to do to get rid of him.”
“C'mere,” she said, motioning for him to lie down and use her lap as a pillow.
He stretched out on the couch and turned on his side, his cheek pressing into the soft velvet of her dress. She ran her fingers through his hair, massaging his scalp. Exhaustion flooded through him. He thought that he should say something about going up to bed, but he couldn't seem to make his mouth form the words. He stopped trying to fight the weight of his eyelids and drifted off to sleep.
*** **** *** **** *** **** *** **** *** **** *** **** *** **** *** ****
Tim wasn't sure how it was that Al had been the one drinking on Friday night but he was the one who woke up with the hangover on Saturday morning. His head was pounding and all he wanted to do was sleep. Saturday passed in a blur of aspirin, naps, and orange juice. Al looked after him, and tried to talk to him about Walt, but Tim insisted he just felt crappy in general and it had nothing to do with his father.
He felt better on Sunday morning and in the afternoon, he and Al walked the dogs up to Smitty's as they did every Sunday to share a pitcher of beer and watch sports on one of the giant televisions. Al had even sweet-talked the bartender into keeping one of the televisions tuned to hockey, just for her, so that's where they were sitting on Sunday afternoon.
Al was especially excited because it was her favorite team, the Montreal Canadiens, playing their arch-rivals the Boston Bruins. Everyone else in the place was watching a car race, but Al was all about the hockey.
Tim had been amused, but not particularly surprised, to find out that she'd played hockey on both a girls' traveling team and on her high school team. She'd been fast and tough and the leading scorer three years in a row in the girls' league. (This last bit of information he'd learned not from Al but from her brother Charlie.)
The game was a real battle, with lots of shots on goal but no scoring through the second period. During the intermission, Al jumped up, kissed Tim on the cheek and headed for the bathroom. He drank his beer while he looked around the bar. Bradley, home from college for the weekend for his mother's birthday, stopped by to talk to him.
They caught up on each other's lives and then Bradley went back to his friends. Tim looked up at the television and realized the game was already five minutes into the third period. Al wasn't back yet, which was unusual. He looked around the bar uneasily. Several more minutes ticked by in the game and the Canadiens scored. He was just about to go looking for Al when she returned.
“I was worried you'd fallen in. Was just about to send out a search party.”
“Sorry about that.” She seemed distracted and didn't look at him when she answered. “Shit, I missed a goal. Who scored?”
“Kovalev. Sweet shot on a break-away. You okay?”
“Yeah, fine. Why?” She looked him in the eye and he thought he saw a flash of guilt.
“It's just not like you to miss any of the action.”
“Oh, yeah, I ran into that realtor lady, you know, the one who talks and talks and talks?”
“Missy?”
“Yeah, Missy. And I didn't want to be rude.”
“You ran into Missy the realtor here?”
Al looked up, cheeks flushed. “Not here, exactly. I was feeling a little light-headed, so I went outside to get some air. She was walking past. You know, doing that suburban power-walking thing that looks so funny?”
Tim nodded slowly and shifted his focus back on the game. Something wasn't quite right but he didn't know what it was. Or maybe it was him. Maybe he was seeing guilt in Al because he felt guilty for not wanting to talk about Walt.
He thought back to Friday night, as he was drifting off to sleep in her lap, she'd brushed his hair off his face and rested her hand on his cheek. Her touch was so light, he nearly thought he was dreaming but then he heard her voice: “Don't shut me out, okay?” He had tried to say something, but he'd been too tired to do anything more than nod sleepily.
On the walk home from Smitty's, Al looked up at Tim and smiled. “I'm a happy girl right now.”
“Is that so?” he asked, an eyebrow raised.
“Yep. Not only am I with my favorite person and the best dogs in the world, and my team won, but Mindy agreed to be my Maid of Honor.”
“No kidding? How'd you talk her into that?” Tim smiled. Al's enthusiasm was contagious.
“I told her she could wear whatever she wanted, that I didn't want a bridal shower or any of that crap, so her only job is to show up on the day and hold my flowers when necessary. And I told her that Landry promised he could photoshop her non-pregnant body into the pictures.”
Tim laughed. “You really think he can do that?”
“Doesn't matter if I think he can do it. Only matters that Mindy thinks he can,” said Al with a shrug and devious grin.
“I have to tell you, I'm relieved Mindy agreed. I was worried your backup would be Tyra and that would just be maybe a little weird.”
“Tyra's volunteered to be our wedding planner.”
“For real? Why would she want to do that?”
“She wants to start a party planning business – weddings, corporate events, Sweet 16s for rich brats, anything really. So she asked me if she could plan our wedding for the experience.”
Tim stopped walking and looked at Al. “It's still going to be the wedding we talked about, though, right? The laid-back party at the lake?”
“Of course. What did you think?”
“Wedding planner sounds fancy and like they'd only plan something stuffy.”
“Don't worry about it. All this means is that it's her job to worry about the details and I don't have to call 47 caterers or try to find eight million strings of Christmas lights and a generator.”
“Who would have thought a wedding would be so complicated?” said Tim with a grin.
Al rolled her eyes and poked him in the ribs with her sharp little elbow. “Anyone who wasn't a guy.”
He slipped his arm around her and pulled her close as he started walking again. He decided to forget about everything else and just focus on the happiness of the here and now, with his favorite person in the world.
*** **** *** **** *** **** *** **** *** **** *** **** *** **** *** ****
Tim spent the next few weeks looking for his father in every shadow. But once again, Walt seemed gone, although Tim was much less willing to add the words “for good” to that statement.
Al was concerned about him, he knew that. But he didn't know how to talk to her about his father. He knew that she must have heard stories, from Mindy and Tyra and maybe even Billy, but he didn't want to add to those stories. He knew that Al loved him, but part of him worried that if she discovered the true nature of the tree he fell from, well, she'd toss him in the barrel with all the other rotten apples.
He knew that his usual pattern when he didn't want to talk about something was to either shut down or rely on the physical part of the relationship. It was easy to fall into the latter approach, letting his body take over and giving his mouth something to do other than talk.
At work, it was easier. He just kept busy, which meant he didn't have to talk to Billy either. If his brother was suspicious of his new-found work ethic, he didn't show it. Tim was turning all of these thoughts over in his mind as he worked on a Camaro.
“Hey, Tim,” said Al, coming up behind him.
“Yeah?”
“I've gotta go out for an hour or two. Will you help Kevin with that Firebird that needs a starter motor? Also, D'Andre should be in soon – get him to enter the invoices into the computer. Okay?”
Tim straightened up and looked at Al. He was a little dazed by how fast she was talking. Like she didn't want to give him a chance to ask any questions.
“Hold up there, where you going?”
“Doctor's appointment and I'm nearly late so I really have to go.”
“Everything okay?” He reached out and took her hand.
“Yeah, it's just you know, like a 20,000 mile service or something. I told you a few weeks ago I had to go.”
He didn't remember, but he nodded anyway. “Alright, help Kevin with a starter motor and get D'Andre to put the invoices in the computer.”
“Thanks.” She squeezed his hand and slipped away before he could kiss her goodbye. He watched her race out of the garage, walking about three times her normal speed, then shrugged and went back to work.
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Al was gone three hours, arriving back just as they were closing the garage for the day. She would have just gone home except that she and Tim had gone in together that morning and she didn't want to strand him or force Billy to give him a ride home.
He was waiting out in front of the garage for her and climbed in before the truck had fully stopped. He leaned across the seat and kissed her like he hadn't seen her in days.
“What was that for?” she asked, surprised but pleased.
He shrugged. “No reason.”
“How was it?”
“What?”
“Your doctor's appointment. How was it?”
She smiled. “Oh yeah, sorry, you sort of distracted me there. It was fine. I told you – no big deal. Just a check up.”
“Good. So I distracted you, huh?”
“A bit, yeah.”
He slid closer to her, put an arm around her and began to whisper into her ear the ways he planned to distract her when they got home. It was only later that night, as he watched Al sleeping next to him, that he realized she had also distracted him from asking more questions about the appointment and why she was gone longer than she said she'd be.