While their purpose is clear and the healing and treatment they provide to all human- and dino-kind cannot be understated, hospitals are among some of the most soul-draining places on the face of the planet. Of course, this is only partially due to the physical stress of being ill enough to require admission to one, or the mental stress of being related to someone who is admitted. Much of the anguish actually comes from the tedium of the administrative side of things. Paperwork, waiting, being told some paperwork was filled out incorrectly and has to be redone, paperwork, waiting, seeing other people in pain being carted around in wheelchairs or beds, waiting, paperwork. Blessedly, Lucy and I are nearly free from this place. I’m incredibly thankful for the help that the staff of this hospital has provided, but just as thankful to go home. After filling out yet another set of paperwork for Lucy’s discharge, we sit in the familiar waiting area. This time is different, however, in that I’m not ripping myself to shreds over what happened or agonizing about the fate of the woman I love. Instead, she sits by my side, hand in hand with me. She rests her head on my shoulder with a gentle smile on her lips. We’re called up to the reception desk one final time. They hand Lucy her last set of discharge papers as well as a print-out of how much money they’ll be squeezing from our insurance provider. As she gets the last of her paperwork squared away, Lucy turns to me. “Do you wanna give mom and dad a call to come pick us up?” Oh, yeah. Neither of us have a car here. I rode in the back of the ambulance and never went back to retrieve a vehicle, so we’ll need some chauffeuring to get home. I nod to her and step away from the desk, withdrawing my cell phone. I pull up my call history and tap the first familiar name I come across: Samantha Aaron. The phone rings a few times before I hear the subtle *click* denoting an answer from the other end. However, I am not greeted by her diminutive tone: “Anon? What’s up? Is everything okay?” I pause for a moment, slightly surprised at the much deeper voice that has answered. “Uhh… hi, Ripley. Yeah, everything’s fine. More than fine, in fact. Lucy’s getting discharged. We’re clear to come home now.” He sounds elated. “Really?! That’s great! I’ll let Samantha and Naser know right away! We’ll be there to pick you up in about twenty minutes.” He pauses for a moment. “... Why are you always calling Samantha’s phone instead of mine?” “Um… well, to be perfectly blunt, Ripley, she’s better about answering. You usually let it go to voicemail.” I hear him snort. “I don’t feel the damn thing vibrating in my pocket until it’s too late.” “Why don’t you just turn on the ringer, then?” “And have to listen to that idiotic ringtone? I don’t think so.” I pinch the bridge of my nose. As tempting as it is to explain to him that he can change the ringtone, I don’t feel like traveling down the rabbit hole of educating my technologically-illiterate father-in-law in the nuances of mobile device customization at this moment. “Twenty minutes?” “Yeah, around that. Samantha’s in the can, but we’ll roll out as soon as she’s ready.” I did not need to know that. “What was that?” “Uh, nothing. See you soon!” As I push the “End Call” button and turn back to the waiting room, I see Lucy seated at our usual set of chairs. As I approach, I notice she’s looking down at a closed folder stuffed full of papers and pamphlets with a far off expression on her face. I arch my eyebrow as I step closer, cocking my head to read the label across the front: Self-Harm and Suicide Prevention Resources I sit beside her and gently slide an arm behind her back. My hand coming into contact with her shirt causes her to flinch in surprise; she turns my way, but quickly relaxes. She looks at me with sad eyes. “Oh! Oh… sorry, Anon. I was…” I put my other hand on top of hers that holds the folder. “It’s okay, sweetie. We’re going home.” She casts her gaze downward. “This was all my fault…” I shake my head as I lift the folder from her fingers and place it on the empty chair next to me. “Don’t say that. You made so much progress here, and I’m proud of you. Dr. Fitzgerald, too. It took a lot of strength to talk things over with both of us tonight, and you even kept yourself from preening.” She encloses her hand around mine and looks up at me. “That was because of you.” I shake my head again. “No, it wasn’t. Dr. Fitzgerald was talking to you and you kept yourself from doing it.” She gives me a perplexed expression. “But… in the past, you-” “I know. In the past, I’d physically grab your hands and reassure you to get you to snap out of it. But upstairs, I didn’t touch you or say a word. You all but forgot I was there until you climbed out of the pit.” At this, she scrunches her face, seemingly unconvinced of my words. I guess it never really dawned on me that she might not recall the events that take place during one of her episodes very well. “Trust me, Lucy. You absolutely kicked ass in there tonight. I mean it when I say I’m proud of you.” Lucy smiles and rests her head on my shoulder. “... Thank you, Anon.” Though she still might not be fully convinced of her achievement, I’m confident that this is something that can be repeated. She’s obviously got the willpower to do it, based on what we saw. It’ll just be a matter of her finding that inner strength again… The two of us keep each other company in the waiting room, awaiting retrieval by her parents. While it’s been an absolute nightmare for the past several days, I can’t help but thank God that Lucy is still with me. The terror I felt when the very real possibility of losing her was knocking at the door is not something I ever want to repeat. I want to grow old with this woman and only say goodbye when we’ve both lived long, fulfilled lives. I want us to be surrounded by children, grandchildren and, Raptor Jesus willing, great-grandchildren. I know our lives are not infinite, but I want as much time with Lucy as I can possibly grasp. About nineteen minutes later, my phone rings. On the other end, Ripley asks me and Lucy to head out to the front. Makes sense; it’s a lot easier than him having to hunt down a parking spot just to come in and fetch us. I pick up the folder with Lucy’s paperwork and pamphlets, glancing at its visible text once more. I make a conscious note to myself to keep its face obscured from Samantha’s view… the last thing we need is her getting upset again when she’s convinced this entire ordeal was nothing more than an accident. I mean… it was, but her seeing that dreaded S-word could open a whole new can of worms. Best to keep that phrase on the down-low. The two of us make our way out of the sliding glass doors that lead to the non-emergency vehicle front driveway of the hospital, hand in hand with one another. Ripley shoots us a big grin from the driver’s seat of his jet black mid-sized sedan; Samantha leans across him from the passenger seat with a smile of her own and a wave. The window is rolled down so we can hear her beckon us into the car. “Hop in, kids! We’ll get you home!” I pause, looking at the back seat with a mix of perplexion and annoyance. “Um… where, exactly, are we supposed to sit?” Piled into the rear of the car are mountains of plastic grocery store bags stuffed full of food, beverages and who knows what else. Somewhere underneath the heap, I catch notice of a streak of orange and an outstretched hand. I can only assume Naser has succumbed to the crushing weight of being buried alive under enough groceries to feed a continent. Rest in peace, brother-in-law. Samantha titters. “Oh, just scooch the groceries over, there’s plenty of room!” Even Lucy is annoyed with her mother’s over-indulgence this time. “Mom, why didn’t you put any of this stuff in the trunk?” Ripley answers in Samantha’s place. “We did. Trunk’s full.” From the back seat, the muffled voice of Naser is heard, but his words are unclear. I glance at Lucy who returns my look of apprehension. “... Wanna rock, paper, scissors to see who has to ride on the hood like that one gal in Death Proof?” She hoists her beak upwards in an expression of already-assured victory. “Excuse me, I’m the one who just got out of the hospital. I automatically win any and all contests for at least a week.” Can’t argue with that logic. We gently open the door to the back seat, quickly grabbing the several bags that attempt to avalanche down Mount Grocery. I apologize profusely to Naser as I shove more bags in his direction in an attempt to make a spot for Lucy and I, hearing only his groans in reply. We barely manage to squeeze ourselves into the back seat together, with Lucy being perched precariously on my lap. Several bags of groceries fall onto us as we manage to get the door closed. Ripley glances over his shoulder at us and grins. “Everybody secured back there?” I extend an arm past Lucy’s wing that smothers my face and give a thumbs up. Naser croaks something unintelligible, and Lucy voices an affirmative. With that, we take off. Samantha happily chats away with Lucy, informing her of all the dinner plans she’s concocted for our return home. It’s not a terribly long drive to our neighborhood, but… … Uh oh. We might have a bit of a situation here. Every bump on the road jostles everyone slightly, with the weight of five adults plus several gorillion pounds of groceries straining the car’s shocks to their limit. I happen to have the slender form of my wife planted directly on top of my crotch, her tail pressing firmly into my gut, and certain male needs that have not been addressed for several days now. My ears begin burning red hot, but thankfully my head is obscured from everyone else’s view by Lucy’s wing. I do my best to avoid the inevitable awkwardness by pushing all thoughts of the marital bed from my mind and replacing them with baseball. Yeah. Baseball’s not sexy. It’s boring. It’s just dudes hittin’ balls with sticks. Yea- Lucy shifts in my lap. No. No. Please don’t do that, Lucy. I’m trying to think about baseball. That’s right… sexy baseball with Lucy at the mound. She extends her perfect ass outwards as she draws her arm back to let loose a sensual pitch. Strike one! Wait, no. Baseball isn’t supposed to be this sexy! Lucy recovers the ball and rears back for a second pitch. As she throws it cleanly over home plate, her terrific breasts undulate in response to her movements. Strike two! This is bad. This is very bad. She takes a deep breath, straightening her back in preparation for the final blow. She looks me dead in the eyes with insatiable lust. Sweat trickles down her brow and glistens from the strands of silver hair that emerge from underneath her baseball cap and roll over her shoulders. With a final heave and a gasp, she hurls the ball towards home plate. Aaaand I’m outta here! … I don’t know why everyone always recommends thinking about baseball to avoid springing awkward boners. It didn’t work. And now that I’m completely imprisoned by groceries and my wife’s bottom in the back seat of her parents’ car, I have no way to hide or remedy this development. But… maybe we’re still okay. We do have several layers of clothing between us. Maybe she hasn’t- Samantha’s stream of consciousness pauses for a moment before she speaks quizzically. “... Lucy, why is your face turning red?” Stupid sexy baseball. Lucy stumbles over her words. “Er… ah, it’s nothing. It’s just hot back here is all, with all the groceries and so many peop-” Another bump in the road interrupts her, causing her voice to hitch for a moment. “... people in the car.” From somewhere within his plastic tomb, Naser lets out an exaggerated retching noise. I’m so sorry, Lucy. My primal male urges have failed us both today. Mercifully, we arrive at our home before too long. As we pull into the driveway and Ripley puts the car into park, Naser’s door instantly soars open, sending him and around thirty grocery bags spilling onto the pavement. He gasps for air as he crawls away from the bags, Samantha hot on his heels chastising him for having made a mess of the dinner fixings. This gives Lucy and I some room to move as we also exit the vehicle on our side, careful not to send any more bags tumbling out. As Ripley hustles around the car to rescue his son from his scolding wife and help gather up the strewn items, Lucy sharply turns to me. Her eyes are wide and she speaks in a harsh whisper, but she can’t keep from grinning slightly. “Are you SERIOUS, Anon?! You couldn’t keep yourself under control for fifteen minutes?!” I put my hands up in surrender and whisper back. “I’m sorry! I couldn’t help it! The road was bumpy, and-” She lets out an exasperated huff as she glances down at the noticeable bulge in my trousers. “You’re lucky nobody else noticed! I sure as hell did!” Um… Naser might have, too… Lucy practically screeches the whisper at me. “HE WHAT?!” Damnit. I am mumbling again. In unison, we both slowly turn to see Naser standing on the other side of the car, glaring at us. His eyes are wide, his frown wider, and upon our noticing him he slowly shakes his head at both of us. Lucy buries her face in her hands, her cheeks a brighter shade of red than I’ve ever seen before. She mumbles, “I wanna go back to the hospital.” I use the excuse of spending a little longer to gather some of the numerous grocery bags from the trunk to give my nethers a chance to simmer down. There is a truly ludicrous number of grocery bags, and there’s not just food here, either: several bags are loaded with toiletries and other household supplies. Lucy’s parents really went all out with resupplying us, despite only being gone for a couple days. Any and all fussing done by either me or Lucy about the overwhelming bounty they have provided is met with hand-waves and dismissal; it’s their “God-given right as parents to dote on their children,” as they put it. As I bring another two handfuls of sundries through the front door of my home, I notice that everything is clean. Perfectly clean, in fact. Cleaner than we left it. We don’t have a messy home, by any means, but it certainly wasn’t this pristine on Monday night. I connect the dots: Samantha must have cleaned our home during her time away from the hospital to keep her mind busy. As I enter the kitchen and set as many bags on the dinner table as I can, I see Samantha already dutifully beginning preparation for our upcoming feast. She wears a gentle smile, her naturally narrowed eyes focusing intently on the food she’s preparing. I hadn’t really thought of it, but she’s done so much for Lucy and I since this whole ordeal began, and even before. Ripley gave a lot of direct support to me over the past several days, but Samantha was there, too, offering her own motherly support in her own special way as best she could. After a moment, she notices me watching her, looks in my direction and widens her smile. “Hm? Do you need something, Anon?” I smile back. “No, I’m good. I’ll go grab the rest of the groceries.” Between the work of Ripley, Naser and myself, we’re able to bring everything into the house in four trips. As I fetch the last of the bags from the car, I notice the folder that Lucy was given at the hospital. We sat directly on top of it, our combined weight gracing it with a large crease and a curled corner. I scoop it into my off-hand, sure to hold its lettered front towards my body. As I set the final bags down in what tiny amount of room remains on the table, I glance around looking for Lucy. I don’t see her in the kitchen or living room. I make my way to the bedroom, pausing for a moment as I eye the folder in my hand once more. Best to stow this away where nosy parents won’t stumble upon it. I temporarily tuck it under the pillow on my side of the bed. Turning around, I notice Lucy in the bathroom with a plastic bag full of toiletries in her hand. She stands stock still with her arms dangling loosely at her sides. She stares into the medicine cabinet, both doors hanging open. The bottles that contained my antidepressants are gone. I step into the bathroom and put an arm around her. She doesn’t flinch, but she turns towards me. Her eyes grow misty. “Anon… I’m so sorry… for everything…” I gently place my hands on the sides of her head and bring my forehead to hers. I kiss the top of her snout, then look her directly in the eyes as I speak. “Lucy, I love you. If you’ve committed any wrong here, I’ve long since forgiven it. I know that you’re still hurting, and I’m here for you. But please… let this be the last time you apologize for what happened here. It’s in the past, you’re home now, and we have each other.” She responds by burying her head in my chest and pulling me into a tight embrace. The bag in her hand clatters to the floor as she quietly sobs. I cradle her, letting her unload her emotions once more. The last time I held her in my arms in this room, ground zero to one of the worst events of my life, I thought she was dying. Hell, she very well may have died if we weren’t able to get her to the hospital so quickly. Now I find her in my arms again, alive but still hurting. We’ll get there. You can do this. I believe in you, Lucy. After a moment, she looks up at me. While her eyes still hold some remnants of remorse, they brim with a new emotion… resolve. She nods to me. “I won’t apologize anymore.” Her intense gaze catches me off guard. I blink, taking in the sight of the woman who so recently was in such pain now appearing so resolute. Almost… confident. Her eyes remain locked with mine, filled with intensity and conviction. It’s… actually kind of sexy. I inhale slowly through my nose, smiling at her. “I’m glad to hea-” She doesn’t let me finish the sentence, pulling my face into contact with hers as she presses her lips to mine. I’m caught by surprise, both by the ferocity of the kiss and the brazenness of her doing this while her parents are only a room and a hallway away. All the same, I’m quickly swept away by her impassioned gesture and gladly return it, squeezing her closer still as we lose each other for a moment in our enraptured kiss… “Lucy, mom asked for some help with something in the ooookay you guys are busy I’ll see myself out.” We’re interrupted by Naser’s voice as he walks into the bedroom, turns the corner to see us canoodling past the open bathroom door, and immediately spins on his heel to exit the bedroom. This poor guy can’t catch a break tonight. Lucy pulls away from me and scolds Naser as he leaves. “Seriously, bro? Can you, like, knock?” His voice trails down the hallway. “Door was open.” She slowly turns to leer at me as I try my best to stifle my laughter. As her cheeks brighten, she angrily whispers, “You didn’t think to close the bedroom door?!” I shrug innocently. “I didn’t know what you were doing in here, and I certainly didn’t expect-” She steps closer to me again, still speaking quietly as she glances over her shoulder to ensure nobody else has waltzed in. “Well, what did you expect, with your little stunt in the car?! You think I’m not feeling… pent up, too?” She glances down, blushing heavily. “Last night… you have no idea how badly I wanted to get out of that hospital bed and curl up with you on the couch…” “Erm… well, there were all those cameras-” She lightly smacks me on the chest with the back of her hand as she scowls at me. “Not for that, you dweeb! I just… wanted to be in your arms again.” She slides her hands around my waist and pulls herself into contact with me once more. She opens her mouth as if to say something, but stops herself as she shakes her head slightly. “I’m… I’m glad to be home… with you.” I place my hands on her shoulders and kiss the top of her head. As much as I want to lock lips with her again, I fear what may come of it. Best to play things safe for right now. “I’m glad we’re home, too. Come on, let’s put away these wholly unnecessary gifts from your folks, then go check on what your mom needed.” We gather up the strewn items from the bag that was in her hand, set them wherever we can in the now-packed medicine cabinet and bathroom counter, and make our way back out to the kitchen. As we pass the living room, Naser is seated on the couch, one arm resting over the back as he thumbs at his phone with his other hand. As we come into view, his eyes shoot up to us and he gives us the same over-acted frown that he gave in the driveway, shaking his head disapprovingly at us. Lucy hustles away, blocking line of sight to her brother with her hand held to the side of her face. I, on the other hand, pause for a moment, wiggle my eyebrows at him and give him a sly grin. His only reply is to repeat his retching sound from the car. As I turn the corner to the kitchen, I find Samantha surrounded by more food than I even thought possible. Stacks upon stacks of meat, vegetables, breads and sweets adorn every inch of countertop, with some items threatening to fall to the floor with their precarious balance upon the edges. On the other side of her, a flustered Ripley sucks in his gut as he attempts to sidle around her and assist in our modestly-sized kitchen. The Aarons’ kitchen is certainly more spacious than ours and accommodates his rotund figure in a more graceful fashion. As Ripley notices Lucy, he breathes a sigh of relief. “Oh, thank goodness you’re here. I think this-” His wing haphazardly knocks a stack of beef patties over, causing the tower to slump onto a row of uncooked ears of corn. “Ah! What I-” As he turns to try to pick them up, his arm slides across the front of the refrigerator, sending several magnets and a drawing gifted from one of Lucy’s preschoolers tumbling to the floor. “DAMNIT! I gotta get out of here!” He raises his arms, pulls his wings as tight to his body as he can, and sucks in his gut to the point where his cheeks puff as he tiptoes past Samantha and out of the claustrophobic space. As he escapes his confinement, he lets out a tremendous breath as his belly reclaims its original shape and his limbs relax to their natural positions. Samantha only titters. “Lucy, dear, if it’s not too much trouble, could you give me a hand with the oven?” Lucy slides into the kitchen, much more capable of unrestricted movement than her father. “Sure thing, mom!” She instantly falls into rhythm with her mother, assisting with preparations almost wordlessly. From what I knew of Lucy back in high school, I’d have never taken her for a traditional kitchen-faring woman; quite the opposite, in fact. However, she later informed me that she actually enjoyed helping her mom in the kitchen when she was a child, learning tools of the trade through Samantha’s practiced guidance. It wasn’t until her “rebellious” years as a later teenager that she shirked the bonding opportunities in favor of brooding in her bedroom. When I left for the military, she sought anything she could to keep her mind distracted in my absence. The community college she attended helped keep her busy some of the time, but she yearned to reconnect with Samantha and better prepare herself to be a wife to me upon my return. I certainly never insisted that she follow such a traditional and antiquated path, but now that I see the fruits of her labor I will not complain. Seeing her now, so recently having been through such a horrible experience, back to her usual smiling, cheerful demeanor fills my chest with warmth. I can’t help but grin as I watch her and Samantha practicing their craft. It’s not until I feel Ripley’s hand fall on my shoulder that I pull myself out of my trance. “Join me and Naser for a brewski while we let them cook?” I begin to nod, but stop myself. “Erm… I don’t think we have any-” With a wide grin, Ripley lifts his other hand, brandishing a six-pack of bottled beers; his favorite brand, of course. I’d be silly to think he wouldn’t bring that along with the rest of the Aaron care package. As we make our way into the living room, Naser glances up, pocketing his phone and smiling at his father. He turns to me with a lowered smile and a raised eyebrow. Ripley either doesn’t notice his son’s expression towards me or chooses to ignore it as he passes him a beer. He hands me one as well as he sets the remainder of the 6-pack on the coffee table, sliding one out for himself as he takes a seat. Both Ripley and Naser simply have to flick their thumbs at the cap to pop it off, their impressive claws playing the role of bottle opener. I have to clumsily fish around in my pocket for the small hinged bit of metal I keep on my keyring for such occasions, sliding it under the rim of the cap and removing it with a marginal amount of difficulty. As the three of us sit in an oddly-shaped triangle with one another, Naser on the couch, I on the loveseat and Ripley in a recliner he gifted to us, a palpable stillness rests on the room. I don’t immediately notice it since the space isn’t dead silent, with sounds and voices trickling from the nearby kitchen as Samantha and Lucy continue preparing dinner. However, once it does dawn on me, I realize both Ripley and Naser are gazing at me intently. I sit up, momentarily taken aback by their seriousness. I nervously clear my throat. “What-” Ripley lifts a hand to stop me speaking, then curls all but the index finger of his outstretched hand inwards as he brings the finger to his lips in a “shushing” motion. He glances over his shoulder towards the kitchen, gingerly jabs his finger in that direction, then turns back to me with raised eyebrows and eyes that plead for me to answer the question neither of them ask out loud. Ah. I get it. They still don’t know what the ultimate diagnosis was for Lucy. They weren’t present for our session with Dr. Fitzgerald, and nobody was brave enough to ask her the question during our mutual family time together. Of course, neither of them wanted to ask, especially given how convinced Samantha has been over the whole ordeal. But now, with both Lucy and Samantha distracted and elsewhere, I can set the other men’s minds at ease. I take a deep breath and lean forward. In response, they both similarly lean forward, giving me their full attention. I look to both of them, meeting their eyes to communicate the assuredness of my next statement. I silently whisper the words: “It was an accident.” Naser rapidly exhales and slumps back on the couch, breathlessly saying, “Thank God.” Ripley reacts differently, bringing his hand to his snout to cover his quivering lip. His eyes grow misty as he looks to me, asking without words if I am certain. I nod to him as I stand, retrieve a box of tissues from the end table next to the loveseat, and place it in front of him on the coffee table. He lets out a long, slow breath as he snatches a few tissues and wipes the tears away from his eyes, nodding to himself to reassure his own mind of this revelation. Naser slides over on the couch, leans forward and puts a hand on his father’s knee, offering comfort in his own small way. Ripley didn’t show any weakness during this entire ordeal. He was strong for Samantha as she shrieked and cried out for her daughter as they loaded Lucy into the ambulance from our home. He was strong for Naser as he risked life and limb to get to Lucy’s side as rapidly as he could. He was strong for Lucy, being with her as often as he could be in the hospital. And… he was strong for me. He comforted me in the waiting room. He shook me out of my pity and self-loathing as I blamed myself for everything that happened. He embraced me and accepted me as his son, just as he had done on Lucy and I’s wedding day. I may be Lucy’s husband, but I don’t even hold a candle to the strongest man in her life. I take a step closer to Ripley, bend down and hug him. He claps his hands on my back to return the brief gesture, wadded tissues still balled up between his fingers. As I stand, Naser does the same, stepping closer to hug his father. Ripley speaks quietly. “Thank you, boys. Both of you.” As he discards the spent tissues and I move the box back to its original position, we observe the time-honored tradition of speaking no further about the shedding of manly tears. Instead, we shift focus back to our beers and proceed to make small talk until we are called on to help set the table and prepare for dinner. Once again, Samantha has outdone herself, fixing a meal worthy of presentation in the banquet hall of an aristocratic gala. The kitchen table literally doesn’t have enough room for everything, so we opt to fix plates in buffet fashion from the countertops. Ripley politely waits his turn so as to not have a repeat of the earlier closed-space incident. Once we all have seated ourselves with heaping plates and fresh beverages, we dig in. Sharing a meal with one’s family is a true gift. Sure, I cherish every dinner I get to have with Lucy, but when joined by her parents and, on this occasion, her brother, the air is always full of laughter and mirth. Stories and anecdotes of our work, school and home lives entertain everyone at the table. I even get an opportunity to retell our encounter with "Fucking Kevin" and how Lucy laid him out at my work party. The mental image of his sister clobbering a beefy pterodactyl asshole in the throat so hard that he crumpled makes Naser nearly choke on his food as he laughs. Ripley gives him a strong slap on the back to dislodge the meat from Naser’s windpipe; he gulps down water as he wipes the laughter-induced tears from his eyes. As we all reach the end of our desired servings, Samantha slides into the kitchen and withdraws a cake from a bag that had been tucked away to the side. It’s no store-bought cake, either; this is a Samantha original, complete with perfectly frilled dollops of icing lining the outskirts of its surface. In immaculate cursive writing, next to a beautiful white rose made of icing, are the words: Welcome Home, Lucy! Of course, Lucy is shocked by this gesture, bringing her hands to her face to cover her overwhelmed smile. The rest of us give a small cheer and a round of applause to join our own sentiments with that of Samantha’s cake. We are all delighted, relieved and blessed to have Lucy back home with us. After enjoying the sugary surprise for which none of us had left room, we begin sluggishly cleaning up after ourselves. Dishes are placed in the dishwasher, leftovers (of which there is once again a titanic amount) are placed in reusable containers, and everything else is sorted, stowed and secured in its proper place. Between all five of us, we make short work of the task. As we wrap up, Samantha glances at Ripley and Naser, then to Lucy and I. “Well, dears, I know it’s been a long few days for us all. We should be getting back home to give you both a chance to rest.” She pulls Lucy into a hug, standing on tip-toes to give her a kiss on the cheek as they separate. Lucy smiles. “Love you, mom.” As she turns to me to do the same, I halt her for a moment. She looks up at me quizzically, her narrowed eyes widening slightly. “Samantha… mom… I just wanted to say, thank you for everything.” She cocks her head as she smiles. “Oh, hush, dear. I didn’t do anything special.” I shake my head, not willing to accept her brushing off my praise. “You did. Everything you’ve done for Lucy and I, not just over these past few days, but since I’ve known her. You’ve been an incredible mother to her, and a wonderful mother-in-law to me. I don’t say it often enough, so… Thank you. Thank you for being so caring and loving to both of us.” Tears begin forming at the sides of her eyes as she smiles up at me, her lip quivering slightly. “Oh, honey. I love you both very much.” She pulls me into a hug and plants a kiss on my cheek. As she steps back, she looks up at me with a grin. “I’ll be here to keep doting on you two until my old bones can’t handle it anymore, at which point I’ll expect you to return the favor.” Her eye glints mischievously. Aha. And there’s the machinations of the mother-in-law. Well, if anyone would deserve a comfortable retirement, it’d be her. I give her one last smile as I turn to Ripley and accept his extended hand. He pulls me in for the tried-and-true “manly half-hug while shaking hands” maneuver which I happily return. He smiles at me. “Keep up the good work, son. I’m proud of you.” He looks to Lucy to include her in the statement as he gives her a hug goodbye. “Both of you. I love you both.” Lucy hugs him back. “Thank you, daddy. I appreciate everything.” As Samantha and Ripley step aside to make way for Naser to say his goodbyes, he places his hands in his pockets and glances down for a moment. “Um… if it’s all the same to you guys, you can head back. I’ll walk home, I wanna talk to Lucy and Anon for a few minutes.” He looks up to Lucy and I. “... Is that okay with you?” Lucy glances in my direction. I shrug, indicating that it’s no trouble to me. She turns back to Naser. “Yeah, that’s fine.” Samantha and Ripley give their final farewells as they head out the door. As Naser, Lucy and I find seats in the living room, we hear the Aarons’ car start up and leave the driveway. Both Lucy and I look to Naser as he gathers his thoughts. After a moment, Lucy asks, “... Is everything alright?” He glances up at her and nods, but still struggles to find the right words. “Oh, yeah, yeah… no problems. Just wanted to… uhh…” He trails off, looking down again as he wrings his hands. I cock an eyebrow as I look over to Lucy, who returns my perplexed look with one of her own. I speak up. “Do you… want me to give you two a moment?” Naser shakes his head. “No, no… it’s fine… I’m just…” He closes his eyes tightly for a moment and purses his lips as he formulates his thoughts. After another moment, he opens his eyes, draws in a steadying breath, and looks up at Lucy. “I wanted to say I’m sorry.” Lucy leans her head back and blinks, caught off guard by the sudden and unprompted apology. “... For what?” Naser exhales sharply from his nose as he scratches the back of his neck. He glances downward as he speaks. “I wasn’t there for you. At the hospital. I wasn’t by your side like I needed to be.” Even I’m starting to get confused. I chime in. “Naser, what are you on about? You were there, like, eight hours after you got called by Ripley and Samantha.” He grimaces. “I know! That’s my point! Why the hell wasn’t I there for Lucy sooner?!” I look over to Lucy, completely lost. She sighs. “I don’t know, Naser, because you don’t have a teleporter?” His eyes shoot up to Lucy. “I’m being serious!” I speak up, starting to get annoyed. “And so are we, dude. Literally what would you have done differently? Drive even faster than you did?” My annoyance is rapidly replaced when I notice the tears starting to well up in his eyes. While I may have suspected that he was just being an irritating douche to try to get a rise out of us before now, this is a level of performance he’s not capable of pulling off. Lucy quickly circles around the coffee table and takes a knee next to him, placing a hand on his arm as he buries his face in his hands. His voice catches in his throat. “Why did I have to go to a school so far away? I should have been there for you from the moment you needed me.” Lucy speaks gently to him. “Naser, it’s okay. You were there as soon as I woke up. If you had gotten there sooner, I wouldn’t have even known about it.” He shakes his head as he wipes tears away from his eyes with his jacket sleeves. “I should have been there for my big sister. I needed to be there for you.” Lucy pulls him into a gentle hug as he sobs. Suddenly, the whole situation clicks into place in my mind. When Naser was a boy, he had an accident where he fell from the bluffs and badly injured himself. He had asked Lucy if pterodactyls could really fly, to which she told him “yes”, innocently granting her little brother a bit of whimsy. She couldn’t have known that he would take her words so literally and so immediately as he attempted to soar from the top of the bluff, only to plummet down to his near-death. The experience was traumatizing to Lucy, and the only recourse she had as a child was to hide from him. She didn’t visit him in the hospital because she was so torn up about what happened, blaming herself for his accident. Even her parents couldn’t convince her to visit Naser as he lay in the hospital bed, injured, hurting and crying out for his sister. Even after he recovered and was able to come home, his disfigured and stunted left wing served as a constant reminder of what had happened. It took a lot of years for Lucy to finally forgive herself for the accident and reconcile with Naser. He had confided much of this to me in the auditorium at school. He swore that he would never do the same, that he would always be a brother to Lucy, one who cared about her and loved her and did everything in his power to be there for her when she needed him. And now, at a time when he feels Lucy needed him more than ever, he wasn’t there for her at the drop of a hat because of his college being so many hours away. Lucy cradles her sobbing brother in her arms, shushing him as she pats his back. She reassures him, “It’s okay, Naser. You were here for me as soon as you could be, and that means the world to me. I couldn’t ask for a better little brother than you.” His shoulders heave at her words as he lets out more of his bottled up sadness. I join in comforting him as I move across the room and take a seat next to him, placing a hand on his shoulder. After a minute, he composes himself, sniffling as he wipes away at his lingering tears. I collect the familiar tissue box from across the room and present it to him a little too late, his jacket sleeves mired with mucus. He still smiles at the gesture, pulling a handful of tissues to dab at his face. “Heh… sorry for being retarded. I don’t know what came over me.” I clap him on the shoulder. “Don’t worry about it, bud. You love your sister and wanted to be there for her. Sorry for not picking up what you were putting down at first, but at least you got it off your chest.” He nods, smiling at Lucy. Now that the heavy bit has passed, I decide to take the piss a little. “Later on, we can look into getting that teleporter installed. You want the kind that kills you and clones you, or the light-wave one? I think the latter is more expensive.” In unison, both Lucy and Naser turn to me with a look of contempt. Their expressions are perfectly identical. Yep, these two are siblings. I shrug, my joke clearly not having landed. They turn to face one another again and Lucy speaks up. “I appreciate everything you’ve done for me. I love you, little bro.” She pulls him into a tight hug which he returns. As they separate, he looks at her with seriousness. “Lucy, I know the past few days have been tough for you, and I know you’ve still got some things to work out. I just want you to know that if you ever need anything, I’m only a phone call away. If you call me at 2am I’ll jump out of bed to answer it. I’ll duck out of a final and risk failing the class to be there for you. Hell, once I get my degree and start doing surgery, I’ll let a patient die to help you when you need it. Okay?” Lucy scoffs at this. “Oh, don’t be ridiculous, Naser. Don’t jeopardize your-” She stops mid-sentence, seeing the intensity of his gaze. He’s not kidding. She stutters before continuing to speak. “I… um… thank you, Naser.” He starts to turn to me, but stops and looks back at Lucy. “Okay, maybe I won’t let a patient die, but the other things? Absolutely.” Lucy giggles at this. He turns his attention my way, meeting my eyes with the same serious look. “Anon… I’ve been meaning to tell you this for a long time.” As he takes a deep breath, I lean forward to hear his words carefully. He speaks slowly and deliberately. “It disgusts me deeply that you married my sister. The fact that she kisses you and, God help me, sleeps with you makes my stomach turn. Your escapades in the car and in the house, with Lucy’s whole family present?! For shame.” He tries his best to keep a straight face, but the sides of his mouth start curling upwards. “You are revolting and a blight on our family. She deserves someone so much better than you.” He turns to glance at Lucy whose eyes are practically bulging with fury. He stifles a laugh as he turns back to me, barely able to finish the sentence. “What about that- that Kevin guy? Sounded like he was single-” Lucy shouts at him, her face a menacing shade of red. “NASER, YOU ASSHOLE!” He can’t help but burst out laughing, grabbing his sides as Lucy pelts him with a couch pillow. I also chuckle. There’s the good old Naser I know. “Love you too, buddy.” As we calm down, Lucy’s pillow assault thoroughly having expended her remaining energy, we walk Naser out to the sidewalk. The sun has set, so I offer to lend him a flashlight; he holds up his hand, declining the offer as he points up to the street lamps that adequately light the sidewalk from here to their parents’ house. He also informs us that he’ll be heading home early tomorrow morning, so we turn our “goodbye for the night” into “until we see each other again”. It won’t be too long, especially since there are a few major year-end holidays approaching. We wave goodbye one last time as Naser starts the trek down the sidewalk, tucking his hands into his jacket pockets as he hums a tune to himself. Lucy turns my way and smiles; I return it as we head back inside. Once we pass through the front door, Lucy notices her cell phone sitting on the end table near the entrance. “Oh. Um, I should probably send an email to the church staff, letting them know I’m… well, that I’m home.” I raise an eyebrow to her. “Do you think it’s a good idea to go back in so soon?” She mulls it over for a moment. “... I do miss the kids… but it might not be wise for me to rush things, just in case.” I nod. “I think that we can take the rest of the week off. Besides, there’s only two days left of the work week. No use going in now.” She glances up at me. “You, too? Are you sure you won’t get in trouble?” “Nope. Already talked to my boss about everything, he told me to take as much time as we needed, and I’ll be here for you until you’re ready to go back to work, too.” She smiles at this. “I’m glad you have such an understanding boss. Rick, right? He was sweet.” I puff a bit of air out of my nostrils. “Huh. Yeah, he’s sweet to strangers. He doesn’t go easy on me in the office, though. Remember, he’s Principal Spears’ brother. Man’s got a set of lungs on him to make a deaf man deafer.” She giggles. “Well, let me go ahead and get an email sent to the others in the church staff anyway. I’ll let them know I’m home safe but that I won’t be back to work until Monday at the earliest.” “You got it, sweetie. I’m gonna get ready for bed.” She plops down on the couch and begins tapping away at her cell phone screen. We haven’t bothered getting a computer yet, though it would make tasks like that a bit easier. I head into the bedroom and strip out of my clothes, leaving only my boxers on as pajamas. I may start to jammie up a bit heavier as it gets colder, but the crisp fall weather is holding out a surprisingly long time for this region. As I climb under the covers, a strange object causes my pillow to lack the same comfort that it normally has. Frowning, I shift it over… Oh. That’s right, the folder. I tucked it away here and proceeded to forget all about it. I pick it up and begin to set it on the nightstand next to me, but hesitate. I know this is Lucy’s folder, but I’m here to support her in any way I can. I don’t think it’s a bad idea for me to read up on some of the materials here in case I can use them to help her down the road. Bringing my back up against the headrest, I open the folder. Within, I find a small pile of papers pertaining to her discharge from the hospital as well as a sizable stack of printouts and pamphlets regarding mental health, self-harm prevention and suicide prevention resources. I set aside the heaviest of the material, knowing that this incident wasn’t Lucy attempting to take her own life, and instead focus on the self-harm prevention documentation. As I thumb through one of the pamphlets, “Helping Loved Ones Overcome Self-Harm”, a few key blurbs jump out to me: Friends and family can offer a tremendous amount of support to someone who is self-harming or at risk of self-harm. Showing that you support them, love them and want the best for them can help dissuade harmful thoughts and prevent their self-harm. Family… well, we’ve got that covered. But friends… that’s a bridge we’re still working to repair. I know that having her old friends back would do a tremendous amount of good in helping Lucy overcome her struggles. It’s made awkward by the fact that those same friends and their broken relationships are a primary cause of the struggles she faces. I turn the page: Positive memory reinforcement can help break a person out of self-harming thoughts. Many times, self-harm is brought on by negative experiences and memories overwhelming a person. Reminding them of positive memories and having them focus their attention on those happier times can lead to some success when overcoming self-harm. Well, son of a bitch. That’s what Dr. Fitzgerald did back at the hospital. When Lucy was about to preen, he suddenly brought up… our wedding. He started asking her questions about the wedding: what her dress looked like, what she remembered about that day, how she felt about it… he was doing exactly this, distracting her distraught mind by making her recall a happy memory. And, of course it would be our wedding he’d bring up; he didn’t know Lucy well enough to call anything else forward, so he went with a sure bet. How many happily married women look back on their wedding day and go “Oh, man, that day sucked”? I continue reading: Additionally, reminders of interests and hobbies that bring joy to a person can help a struggling individual out of dark thoughts. This can include happy memories associated with sports, arts and crafts, or m- I look up, noticing Lucy enter the room. She glances from me to the folder. I slide the removed pamphlets back inside and close it up. “I thought I’d take a peek and see if there was anything that seemed like it might help us out.” She smiles and nods. “I appreciate it, Anon. I’ll look at it with you tomorrow. For now, I just want to be under those covers with you.” I give her a smile as I set the folder down on the nightstand. She shuts off the light, bathing the room in darkness. As I see her moonlight-painted silhouette move around to her side of the bed and hear her changing out of her clothes, I rest my head on my pillow and close my eyes. It’s been an awfully long few days for both of us, and it feels incredible to be in our own bed again. As I feel the mattress descend slightly and the covers accept her form between them, I let out a small sigh. As much as I want to express my love to her in physical ways, I shouldn’t rush things. She kissed me in the bathroom, but that was hours ago now, and I’m sure she’s exhausted and just wants to get some sleep- I feel her shift over, nuzzling her snout into my shoulder. Her sudden contact makes my hair stand on end. She brings her arm up, resting her hand against my bicep. My breath catches in my throat. Th-this is okay. She’s just cozying herself up for bed. I should let her be- Her wing, having tucked under the blanket with us, extends over and rests gently across my torso. She slides over a bit more, moving her hand across my chest to embrace me as she lies angled on her stomach. Her snout glides past my shoulder and nuzzles into my neck, her breath sending chills down my spine and signals to my nethers. Her hair falls from the side of her head and dances across my chest. I gulp. Erm… I mean… I’m trying to be a gentleman for her, and I don’t want to push her into something she doesn’t want right now, but this is proving to be very difficult- She slides closer still, her wing pressing down on me as she wraps her other arm behind my head and brings her snout to my ear. Her breath now causes me to involuntarily shudder, completely enraptured by her actions. She moves her leg into contact with my own. I now realize she isn’t wearing any pajamas. She whispers in a pleading voice. “Anon… please… I want you.” I oblige.