Echoes 06

"She's ready for you now."

Chase looked over to where his mother-in-law had entered the living room, turning slightly on the couch to watch her. Isabella looked like she had just gotten back from the heart of a blizzard; the red eyes, runny nose, ratty hair, and a haunted stare suggested that she'd barely survived what she'd just been through. Pretty much just how it'd been with the little girl who was, right that moment, cleaved to him with her face pressed into his leg so hard that he could feel sweat on his skin under his pants. Chavelle had stopped crying, mostly, but she was not ready to be left alone, and was gripping a mended length of sleeve tight with both little hands; a last gift. Chase though... he had to go. It was now or never.

Isabella went straight to the couch and scooped up the five-year-old, making shushing sounds when she protested, but the grandma skills she'd picked up in the last couple of months were more than up to the task, and Chavelle let herself be transferred to the next most important person in her life quickly enough. Through a new bout of tears, Isabella gave Chase a pleading look that he had no problem translating. You have to go right now.

Trying to express all the gratitude he could without using a voice he knew would fail him, Chase made his way into the master bedroom. To the last place he would see the love of his life still alive.

He knew what awaited him. It was exactly what had been there for weeks; machines to ease a dying woman's pain, and the shriveled shell of his wife alone in the bed, though only alone recently. He had shared that space with her, giving whatever intimacy his presence by itself could provide, until it finally became too much for her and he'd retreated to a cot next to it. That was hard, but it had only been three nights before, and he still made sure he held her hand every time she drifted off, since neither of them knew if she'd be coming back.

Now, it was certain. The curtains were drawing, and Elizabeth Ventris was taking her final bows.

She'd seen her daughter first, knowing it would be hard for the child to understand her when her strength started flagging. Then her mother, to squeeze a few more minutes into a reunion that had been all too brief. Finally, it was his turn, and he knew why he was going last.

"Cheese." The name rasped from her throat when she put her hand in his and forced her eyes open. "Thank..." She swallowed. "Seeing your face... how I want to go... love..."

"I know." He was watching her from underwater, and he could barely get the words out himself.

"You... every second... a gift." Her fingers trembled in his. "So... thankful." Her eyes drooped. Lower. Lower. "Find... someone. Someone..." Her last breath began its journey. "...needs you."

"Bizzy." Chase patted her hand. Her cooling, paper skin. "Bizzy. Bizzy." It couldn't be real. He thought he'd had time to ready himself, but he was wrong. He'd never be ready. He'd never be able to let her go. "Bizzy... Bizzzzyyyy..."

The other women in his life let him sob and wail for as long as they could before they had to come to him and shared his anguish. None were sure who had to be strong for whom then, but, in the face of the new black hole that had formed in their home, all three had to be there for something. Anything. They'd figure it out later; at that moment, what mattered was that they were together as they lost a portion of their souls.

__________

The funeral was packed. Every employee of Chase and Bizzy's came, and their significant others, and all the friends who had come back into their lives with her reappearance less than a year before. Maggie ran everything, made all arrangements, and coordinated every minute of the whole ordeal like the goddamn superhero that she was. Chase, Chavelle, and Isabella concentrated on each other because there was nothing else they were capable of then.

At the gravesite, when the last mound of dirt had been replaced, the three of them lingered; afraid to go to a home that they knew would feel so, so empty. Inevitably, though, they had to return, if only because they knew that the woman they were agonizing over would hate more than anything to see them in that state.

At home, Chase and Isabella put Chavelle right to bed, and he figured that the woman would head for her own room, his old office that they converted back to a bedroom for her when it was decided that she would live there in her daughter's final days. Instead, though, Isabella stood outside her granddaughter's door and stared at Chase inscrutably.

"I need a drink."

She didn't hesitate even a second before she made her way to Chase's little bar, and he just shrugged and followed. I've heard worse ideas.

The pair poured in silence, sipped in silence, and wished with everything in them that the other would speak first... in silence. Eventually, Chase broke. "Isabella... I don't know..." He glanced over to the closed bedroom and what slept beyond the door, and sighed. "Since you've been back, I know we've barely spoken, and that's my fault." At seeing her open her mouth he held up hand to forestall her. "It is. We both know it is. I wasn't up to it, I can admit that. I wasn't strong enough to be what Bizzy needed me to be, and to work out what there was... what there is between..." He faltered then.

"Chase." Isabella raised a hand like she wanted to... touch him. Hold him. Something more than what she was doing, but her nerve failed and she let it drop back to her lap.

He chose to ignore the pain in her eyes right then. He had to get out what he had to get out, while he could. "The fact is, I don't think I'm capable of being what Chavelle needs. Not yet. I don't know what you've been doing in these last three years we've been apart, because, frankly, I've been afraid to ask... and I'm not asking now. Not about that. What I am asking is if you'd be willing to stay for a while. Just until we... heal some. I don't want to intrude on your life, but--"

"Chase Ventris, I will be whatever you need me to be, for however long you need it." She smiled at him with an open warmth. "Being able to spend extra time with my extra amazing granddaughter is a whole lot of unnecessary-but-appreciated cherries on top."

Her grin slipped then, and she cast her eyes to the side, unable to look at him. "I've told you this before, but you keep making me say it again and again... I can never thank you enough." She swiped a hand across her nose. "When Elizabeth called me and asked me to come to her, I was sure that I would have about an hour's worth of joy, if I was lucky, before it was rightfully taken from me by the truth of what I am. Of what I did to her." Her voice dropped. "To you."

She cleared her throat and continued. "But you didn't say a word. You had every right, every obligation to tell your wife what actually happened to rob her of all that time she could have had with you, but you kept it to yourself, because you knew it would kill me."

Isabella gathered her bravery enough to take his hand then, and he didn't have it in him to pull it away. "You gave me a gift I can never repay, but I will keep trying as long as you'll let me. I know you can't love me anymore..." She didn't seem to notice when he turned his head away for a second. "...but what I promised before still holds true; I will always love you for giving me something I had no right to."

Chase squeezed her fingers. "Isabella... I don't know..." He shook his head. "I'm not sure what's left in me for anyone, and that's the honest truth. I've been... hollowed out. So I can't promise you anything... if you're even expecting something from me... if you even want me to..."

Isabella leaned over and brushed his lips lightly with hers, then leaned back. "When I say love, I mean love. No conditions. You asking me to stay is already enough, Chase. Whatever else happens, I am content. Please believe that. For tonight, though, we should both get some sleep." Her eyes reddened. "It's been the longest day possible."

Chase agreed, and they started heading out, but Isabella stopped him with a hand on his shoulder just before he went to his newly empty room. "Chase... I don't know if I should tell you this, it seems inappropriate right now, but..." She lifted her chin. "You should know. I've been making... arrangements since I've been back. Calling in some favors and recruiting friends of friends, if you know what I mean."

"I really don't." Chase smiled. "But I like me a good mystery."

Isabella eased a bit. "Oh, you'll like the hell out of this. Going forward, I will always be trying to make up for my mistakes, but that can only partially cover it. The other part has to be from someone else paying the price too."

Chase was still mystified... until it hit him like a lightning bolt. "Isabella... you can't mean..."

"Let's just say that Shane, the King of Scum, will be getting very acquainted with our penal system for the next..." She waved a hand airily. "...fifteen years or so, from what I understand."

Chase, well, Chase laughed. Hard. For the first time in weeks. "Oh my god, Belly, I won't even ask what your friends of friends of friends had to do to set him up... but that is an absolute fucking gift. I mean, maybe I should be a bigger man and let it go; hell, I thought I had, honestly, but fuck that guy. Now and forever."

"Well, now and for fifteen years at least, if Bubba has anything to say about it." Chase's new round of laughter prompted hers, and a series of little snorts said all that needed to be said. When they both had calmed down, she finally began making her way to her own room, but stopped one last time. "Thank-you, Chase."

"Me? I need to thank you now, Belly."

"That." She had her face to the door. "Hearing you call me... that... again is going to do a lot to help me get through tonight."

Before he could comment, she was back in her room and had closed the door behind her. Chase just scratched his head and followed suit, climbing into his bed as exhaustion of all kinds finally caught up, letting oblivion keep his fucked up life at bay, at least for a few hours.

__________

Chase hadn't been wrong, he had to give himself that much credit, at least. He really was hollowed out, and the months that followed Bizzy's funeral felt like they were navigated through nothing but programming. He went to work, told Chavelle and Isabella goodbye with a forced smile and some lame joke he dredged up from the depths of what used to be his heart, came home and spent some time with them, asking about their days and trying to pay attention to the answers, playing some with Chavelle, talking some with Isabella, and then bed and repeat.

He tried, he really did. He saw what he was becoming and hated it, knowing that his hurt was no greater than theirs, and that they deserved better from him, but he didn't feel it, and he had his suspicions about how well he was faking it. Still, he kept it up. He had to.

Isabella was a life-saver. Her bond with Chavelle grew and grew, until it was clear that the woman had become less of a grandmother, and more a mother to the girl. Arranging school in the fall, then executing a daily plan once it started, and addressing the kid's questions and concerns. Even discipline, the few times it was needed, was handled by the middle-aged woman and her reclaimed instincts. That was good. The kid needed at least one parent.

As for Chase, he was still the kid's buddy. He made her laugh, he showed her all the attention she asked for, and he struggled with all his might to make sure that his depression didn't rub off on her. Fake it till you make it; that was his mantra.

At least, until someone finally did something about it.

It began on a Sunday morning. Chase had been sleeping in, way in, which was an indulgence he'd allowed himself once a week, but this week he was waking up from the best fucking dream ever. Coming to with a groan... clawing his way from Morpheus's realm with his back arching and his hands gripping the sheets... his teeth gritting as his release washed over him...

Now plenty awake, Chase looked down towards his waist, his face a picture of bafflement. That wasn't a dream! He could see the lump beneath the covers that attested to that fact. The still-moving lump. Of course, the continuing sensations were enough without the visual confirmation, but he still was mired in disbelief, so he immediately threw back the linens to confirm what he knew was happening.

"Belly... what the fuck?" His mother-in-law's ebon head was still bobbing up and down on his cock, since it had yet to soften within her sucking mouth, but at hearing his voice and losing her camouflage, weak as it was, she finally raised her head, causing his own to leave her lips with a smack, and a wet little pop. "What are you thinking?"

Isabella's tongue darted out towards her chin to scoop up a dollop of escaping jizz, then she smiled at him semi-apologetically and shrugged. "Sexual healing?"

"Belly... I... uh..." Okay, I should make smarter words than that. It didn't help when she rose up on her knees to reveal that the camisole she always slept in was bunched up above her age-defying breasts. The ones that must have been making gravity rage with impotence and vow someday to make her pay for her rebellion against the natural order. The pair that screamed for a poet to pen an ode to perfection that would sing through the ages...

"That's... nice?" Eat your heart out, Billy Shakespeare.

"Why thank-you, Mister Ventris." Isabella gave him a smile that had zero sarcasm in it. It was a quite a wonder. Licking her lips, she looked down at his still-turgid member and heaved a wistful sigh. "I guess that's enough for now. I'm going to be teaching Chavelle how to make pancakes... after I watch a video on how to do it." She mumbled that last part. "So, when you're up, you're more than welcome to partake in what will undoubtedly be a feast fit for a king." And with that, she patted his penis fondly and exited his room, humming a little tune on her way out, leaving Chase to really wonder if maybe he was still dreaming.

The befuddlement didn't clear in the slightest the rest of the day, with Isabella acting like it didn't happen and just going about her business cheerfully, but normally. Chavelle, though, picked up on the change quick enough.

"Mousetrap, you look like it's your birthday." She paused their impromptu game of thumb-wrestling at the dining room table. "Um... is it your birthday?" Her cheeks reddened. "I guess... I don't even know."

"His birthday is in July." Isabella answered from the kitchen as she disposed of a mound of char that once had aspirations of flapjackhood.

"Hey, just like me!" The girl gasped. "We can be birthday buddies and have one big party!"

"Sounds like a plan to me, Muscle Girl." Chase beamed a grin at her that didn't need to be faked whatsoever. It felt incredibly good. "But I gotta test you first." He narrowed his eyes and smoothed his face into seriousness. "Where do you want to go for the party? Let's see if it's the same place I'm thinking of."

"That place with big animals that sing and the ball pit and the games?" Her eyes were wary, but hopeful.

Chase wiped his hand across his brow. "Whew. I was worried that you didn't know. Looks like you passed. Mousetrap and Muscle Girl will be making those big, freaky animals earn their pay in a few months."

To a round of the six-year-old's cheers, Isabella nonchalantly strode past Chase on the way to somewhere, but made sure to reach out run her hand all the way up his arm and across the back of his neck on her way by. No words, not even a look, but she was humming again as she went.

__________

A new wrinkle was introduced into Chase's life starting that day, and it had his head spinning. He didn't know what he expected, or even wanted after that Sunday in bed, but it wouldn't have mattered. The game was afoot, and Isabella was the one running it. Her performance wasn't repeated the next day, or the next, or the next... long enough that he figured that it was a one-off; a nice gesture that probably pushed too many boundaries. He was content with that. He really was. Totally.

Then, after a rough day in which Maggie had brought his attention to some old plans that Bizzy had left for the business, Chase came back home struggling to even say hello to his two ladies. He drifted through the rest of the evening then until he went to his empty bed. A bed that stayed empty only until he drifted off to sleep.

Once again, he didn't wake until he was well on his way to filling Belly's... belly. Suck, smack, pop, lick... and the woman emerged from his blankets with a smile and a wink--and a jiggle of bare tits that had to have been given on purpose--then exited wordlessly to her own room, leaving behind a gawping, yet grateful, housemate.

Another week, another low day, and another feel of fantastic fellatio, and even dim Chase Ventris finally understood. Sexual healing indeed. A wicked grin bloomed with the realization. Game on then.

It was a few days later that he came home and put on his "act." Isabella looked over at him when he shuffled into the living room, seeing the hang-dog expression on his face. "Chase... bad day?" The genuine concern in her eyes really did touch him, but not enough for him to stop.

"Oh yeah. It was, like, totally horrible." He shook his head mournfully. "I think I'm gonna go a few rounds with Muscle Girl, then go to bed when she does."

On the sofa, Chavelle smiled. "Grand's been showing me the God Fist Combo, so you're gonna lose, Mousetrap."

While Chase and Chavelle played the game, he could feel Isabella's eyes boring holes into the back of his head, but she kept her peace. When he finally bowed out and headed to his room, he tried to ignore her blank stare as he shuffled by like Eeyore on Xanax. Once in bed, fully awake under the covers, he had to wait about twenty minutes, just long enough for Chavelle to be tucked in for the night, before the doorway to his bedroom was filled with an indistinct silhouette.

"All right, Lord Maudlin von Sadsack... the doctor is in." He could tell that Isabella was suppressing a laugh as she sauntered over to him, her body draped in shadows. She shimmied under the sheets from the foot of the bed, wriggling like a sexy snake as she crawled up his prone legs, but when he felt her lips on his manhood, he whipped the blankets off them both, baring their bodies to each other.

"Tonight, I think I'm gonna need more than a doctor. This calls for open-heart surgery." While she blinked up at him in confusion, he clasped her under her arms and hoisted her lithe frame upward, and was only partially successful in stifling the groan elicited by the feel of her velvet skin when her chest came to rest on his.

Her amusement was a thing of the past, and her eyes were wide when she put a hand over his heart to prop herself up and look at him fully, her hair spilling down to frame his head. "Chase... what... are you saying that--"

"I'm saying that, if you still want my maudlin, sadsack carcass, it's yours, Isabella Rossi." He spread his fingers across the back of her head and kissed her long and hard before pulling away. "I'm yours. I really think you might have saved my life." He could only manage a lopsided, dopey grin as he peered up at her. "You are pure magic, my sweet girl."

Isabella's eyes filled enough that he felt a couple tears strike his cheek, then she smiled and gave a hiccupping laugh. "You think I should try to sell Disney the rights to my story? Bed knobs and Blowjobs?"