Julia

Finally, I mouthed to myself. For the very last scene of the movie, wherein Princess Leia gives a medal to the heroes, now spread across the screen. I couldn't help but smile when I saw a young Harrison Ford stride forth for his prize. Mark Hamill was cute then, granted, but of the two I considered Han much more interesting than Luke. It seemed I had always had a thing for the archetypal "no-good" scoundrel with a heart of gold.

Danny leaned over and whispered to me, "Why didn't she give one to Chewie?"

I whispered back, "I don't know either, but I'll bet Stu does. You should ask him later." I shot a look at Stuart, whose eyes had not left the screen once, not even when he told us to "Sh!" when Danny and I were whispering during the lightsaber showdown between Obi-Wan and Darth Vader.

I had learned the hard way that Stuart did not like mid-movie chatter. For while Danny and I both tended to talk quite freely during films, even those we had never seen before- if only to state the obvious ("She's an idiot!"), ask the redundant ("Is he dead?"), or, most frequently, warn the deaf actors on screen ("That guy's gonna kill you if you go in there! Run away, stupid! Go! Now!")- Stuart was the kind to utterly lose himself in a film, and any premature attempts to coax him back to reality were, shall we say, not well-received. I'll just leave it at that.

Chewbacca roared one last time (which Danny translated humorously as "Hey! Where's my medal?"), followed right away by the famous Star Wars credit roll. The lights in the theater brightened, showing a nearly sold-out theater dotted here and there with one or two empty seats toward the middle.

Nearly, I repeated to myself with a sad sigh. Stuart was wrong. There were tickets left. Freddie could have come.

I wished he had, too, more than I can say. It would have been such a different experience- and a much more entertaining one at that. I had A New Hope practically memorized as it was, and Stuart himself had seen it so many times he could describe any given scene down to the tiniest detail just by listening to the film score that accompanied it. I enjoyed the movie- I always did- but it wasn't the same.

I hope Freddie's having a good time, wherever he is, I sighed inwardly.

We were all quite full with popcorn and theater candy, and it was rather late for a school night. So when Stuart offered to take us out to a late dinner, I politely turned him down.

"You sure?" His brow wrinkled.

"Yeah," I nodded. "I mean, I'm good. Danny, you hungry?"

My boy shook his head enthusiastically, which settled that question in a hurry. So we started collecting our things. People were filing out of the theater already, and it was high time we followed suit.

I ducked down and grabbed my purse, then stayed down a few moments, peered into the shadows beneath our seats.

"What are you looking for, Mom?" Danny asked.

"Nothing, sweetie," I lied, but it was only a half-lie. I didn't really expect to find another Boston Red Sox ball cap, but it didn't hurt to look. It would only have hurt if I actually found one- and hurt infinitely more if, by some great, awful, improbable miracle, its tattered brim happened to sport a sprawling, frenetic signature scrawled in black ballpoint ink...

But aside of a few popcorn kernels and a stray ticket stub or two, I found nothing, just as I thought. I stood back up, heart aching within me, cheeks flushing.

It was a stupid thing to look for anyway.

Before I became too swamped by nostalgia, I forced my mind in other, more helpful directions- last minute Christmas gifts, tomorrow night's dinner plans, Deacy's sudden radio silence, Danny's upcoming church program. As if to offer assistance in forgetting, Stuart put his arm round my shoulders and escorted us out into the brisk evening. Fortunately we didn't have to stay long out in the cold and wet; the Benz was parked close by, and we all clambered in as fast as we could.As soon as Stuart started the car, I turned the heater up full blast. I had spent three years living in the Northeast, but I still missed my milder Texas winters.

"I heard we'll be getting several inches of snow this weekend," Stuart told us as he pulled off his gloves.

"Cool!" Danny rubbed his hands craftily and chuckled like a cartoon villain. "I can finally finish that snowball fight with Lauren!"

"No snowballs in the face," I reminded him.

Danny sulked. "That's where she always aims at me though!"

"I'm just saying, don't be the first. That's your only pair of glasses, I don't need you pulling a Ralphie. But if she starts it, that's different. Just be careful."

Because, as much as I hate to say it, Lauren's aim is worlds better than yours, I added silently.

Danny had never been the most athletic child. Oh, he loved to run and play just like any nine-year-old boy, and thanks to his raging metabolism had yet to develop an ounce of unnecessary fat- but he wasn't very competitive, unless it was personal. As a result, team sports eluded him- but give him a one-on-one sing-off or art contest against a bitter rival of his, and you had better get the heck out of his way.

"So," Stuart said once we were on the main road, "how'd you like the movie, kiddo?"

"It was great, sir."

"Like it more or less than Empire?"

"I liked this one better- except- Dr. Preus, if Darth Vader knew he was Luke's father and stuff, why was he trying to kill him?"

"Well, he didn't know that he was shooting at his son; he just saw an enemy pilot that had to be taken out or else the Death Star would be destroyed- which is exactly what happened."

"In other words, honey, George Lucas wasn't thinking that far ahead," I joked.

Stuart frowned as he looked at me. "Why do you say that?"

"Come on, Stu. Lucas didn't know what that first movie would become, he probably had no intention at first of making a sequel- and making Luke Darth Vader's son, and all that. That all came about later."

"Is that what you two were whispering about?"

"No, sir," Danny replied. "Mom was just telling me about what happened when she saw that part wi-"

"It was just a little story from the T-Rod trip," I cut in quickly. "You wouldn't be interested. I promise."

"Saw what? Star Wars?" Stuart's frown deepened. I remained silent- which gave him time to put the pieces together for himself. "Saw it when?"

I shut my eyes, then slowly opened them again.

"1977, when it came out," I mumbled at last. "Two months after it came out actually, but- yeah."

"She saw it with Freddie," Danny gushed. "Remember? I told you before."

I watched one of his hands grip the steering wheel a little tighter. "I never knew that. Tell me about it. Was it a date or something?"

"Not at all; Freddie and I honestly never went on any actual dates together."

"Never?"

"Never," I assured him, and that was the truth. He and I had never once spent an entire evening out, with just ourselves as company. In retrospect, we practically had to steal our moments alone together, they came so rare- and yet, so precious, rather the way they did now.

"We were just knocking about New York at the time," I explained briefly. "We had few hours to kill, and Star Wars was playing in the theaters, so we watched that."

"That sounds like a date to me," Stuart said.

"Oh, no, it wasn't a date," I smiled. "I paid for the tickets AND the popcorn."

"Ah." His voice was cool. "So- what happened?"

"Like I said, it's not that int-"

"On the contrary, I want to hear this," Stuart interrupted calmly. "Come to think of it, I've heard very little about your two weeks in the past- and even less about the man you spent them with- from your experience, that is. I'm curious- always have been, to an extent, but- I'd like to at least hear how you guys spent some of the time- what were you doing in New York anyway?"

I shrugged, throat going dry. "It's been so long, I don't remember."

Danny piped up behind us, "Freddie said you guys were g-"

"Like I said, I don't remember," I cut him off- then let my voice relax a moment afterward. "But I do remember watching it with him."

"Mom says he was rooting for Darth Vader the whole time- especially during the lightsaber fight!" Danny giggled.

"Why am I not surprised," hummed Stuart- and I could tell from his tone of voice this conversation was not pleasing him, even though it was his idea.

But Danny didn't notice. "So was that the reason why he rode around on his shoulders?"

Stuart was confused. "Whose shoulders?"

"Darth Vader's! That's what Mom said, anyway."

A pause. Then, he turned to me, and spoke a quiet, incredulous "Freddie rode around on Darth Vader's shoulders?"

I had to stifle a smile. "In 1980, at least. I've seen pictures- at a few of Queen's concerts, that's how he came out for the encore. So- I think it's safe to say he liked what he saw, regardless of what he said in 'Bicycle Race'."

Stuart was silent- and for some reason I took that as a cue to just keep going. I wasn't even thinking about it; I simply continued with the memory. "And after the movie, Freddie and I walked over to Central Park- I guess to, you know, get out of the sun, it was hot that day, I remember- mid-July in the concrete jungle, not for the faint of heart. Anyway, and - there was some music festival happening, and a guy named John Sebastian was playing, and so we just stood on the bridge, just the two of us, talking, watching a little of the concert, dancing to the music-"

"Dancing?" Danny's smile was audible. "You guys danced?"

The question snapped me back to reality- and I realized just what I'd been saying, and around whom. "Just a little," I said hastily. "Nothing too serious, we just danced, people dance all the time, sweetie."

Stuart faced the winding road before us. "You've never danced with me," he said quietly.

"You never asked," I quipped.

In the yellow streetlight glare, I saw Stuart's jaw clench. So much for "I don't remember what happened," I told myself with a nervous chuckle.

"Can we turn some music on, please?" Danny asked meekly.

"Uh- yeah, sure, pal." Stuart touched the power button on the stereo. But the rest of the car ride home, unless you count the U2 on the airwaves, remained frightfully silent. I sat there, absently fingering my chain and wondering to myself if I ought to take it off before Freddie returned home.

*****************************************************************************************

"Thanks for the movie, Dr. Preus, it was fun!" Danny rattled off as fast as he could, before vanishing into the house as soon as the front door popped open.

"My pleasure, buddy, glad you liked it," replied Stuart, just as perfunctorily. He held one hand behind his back, using the other to wave at our green-feathered greeter.

I smiled, kissed Stuart's cheek. "I had a lovely time as well," I said. "Stay for a drink?"

The kiss relaxed him a little. "That's a great idea."

I flitted toward the liquor cabinet. "The usual?"

"You know it," he smiled. "Can't stay too late, though; Ling's arriving tomorrow and I need to be on my A-game around her. She already thinks I'm a moron."

I frowned as walked into the laundry room and let out Fry. "Why do you say that?"

"Because of how easily Danny was able to just walk right into the lab- oh! Yes. Nearly forgot." He raised his voice a little, "Hey, Danny, can I talk to you for a second?"

"Uh- okay- I mean, yes sir," came the muffled response. Soon enough here he came, back down the stairs, pencil in his hand as though he was just about to start on some homework.

I handed Stuart his drink. With a quick word of thanks, Stuart took a sip and sat on the couch, patting the cushion beside him. "Come here, pal. Need to ask you something."

"Oh." Danny sat down, folded his hands in his lap. Stuart slipped his hidden hand around to the front, leaving whatever it was holding pressed against his back.

"What is it?" the boy asked innocently.

"I was just wondering," Stuart began. "Do you remember how you happened to get into the lab on Friday?"

Danny blinked. "You and K said I could."

"I know, I know, that's not what I'm asking. I mean- how did you find Speck? The machine that-"

"Oh, that place," Danny nodded. "There was a man, he let me in."

Stuart hesitated. "A man?"

"Yes, sir."

I was just as startled as Stuart. So he did have help, I thought to myself.

"Can you describe him to me?" he asked.

Danny shrugged. "It was kind of dark down there- but he was really tall. And he was wearing a badge."

My ears pricked up when I heard those words. "Like a security badge?" I asked.

"Not really. It was different- and he was bald, I think. Or his hair was just really short."

My heart pounded. If memory served, the man I had in mind had had plenty of dark brown hair when I knew him ten years ago, but I had to ask, "Did you get his name?"

Danny shook his head. Drat.

One long, thoughtful slurp of the drink later, Stuart asked, clearly trying to keep himself calm, "Good, now, try to remember. This is very important. Tell me what happened, as clearly as you can, how he let you in."

Danny furrowed his brow, looked down in his lap for a moment. "Umm... well, Dr. K was in the bathroom, and I was, uh- playing echo-"

"Playing echo?"

"Yeah, you know, when you yell something in a room and the walls repeat it a few times, or something?"

Stuart blinked. "Uh- that's not exactly how it works, but, okay. Go on?"

"And he said he wanted to show me the lab, and he- pointed a thing at the cameras and stopped them-"

"Hold on. What thing?"

"Like a remote control or something, I don't know. Then he typed in the password, and then door opened and he went in- and I did too."

"Then what?"

"Then he was gone. Like that."

"You didn't see where he went?"

"No, sir." Danny yawned. "Can I go do my homework now, Mom?"

I turned to Stuart. "Was there another question you wanted to ask him?"

Stuart sighed, rubbed his eyes. "No. Go on up, pal, do what you need to."

Danny stood. "Was I helpful?"

"Very. Thanks, kiddo," Stuart smiled wearily, and bumped Danny's fist before the little phantom flew back up the stairs. Fry made his move, then, hopped up in the warm spot on the couch where Danny was perched, and put his front paws on Stuart's leg. Absently he rubbed the wiener dog's head, still looking at me.

Stuart waited a moment till he heard Danny's bedroom door click shut, and then he stood, brow arched.

"I didn't know you like to dance," he murmured softly.

There's a lot you don't know about me, I retorted silently. Aloud I sighed, "I'm just really bad at it, so I don't do it."

"You did it with him."

"He danced with everybody," I dismissed.

"True; he did everything with everybody."

Very nice, Stuart; nice use of a quote there. Can we talk about something else now?

The dislike Stuart aimed toward Freddie was so clear, I had to roll my eyes- and while doing so, my eyes fell upon the blue cover of the book Stuart had been sitting against. I could only see a slight bit from my angle, but I couldn't help feeling curious enough to ask about it.

"Oh, that?" Stuart chuckled. "Just study materials." He lifted the book up, walked over, and handed it to me. "Have you read it before?"

The picture on the front cover told all. I didn't even want to hold the thing; right away I gave Mercury and Me back to him, suddenly feeling quite sick to my stomach. "Well- I tried to, once, many years ago, I only made it through ten pages before I threw it away."

"That bad, huh?"

"Badly written, is all, not the- content."

He nodded. "Yeah, it's not exactly Stephen King, I'll admit, but I'm certainly learning a lot about him."

Thanks for reminding me, Stuart, I whispered to myself, only being half-facetious. Thank you for reminding me he's currently taken- and also, why I can't tell him about Danny. As angry as I now felt, I was jolting awake; as I often told my son, the truth sometimes is not pleasant. Nothing like a cold splash of reality to wash away my earlier softhearted thoughts.

"What's the sudden interest in Freddie and - his- love life, Stuart?" I could hardly get the words out and keep my voice steady. "I thought you hated the guy."

"Knowledge is power," he said laconically. "And I don't hate him, Jules, don't misunderstand me. I just want to know, get some idea of what you have to deal with now that he's right under your nose again- but the little stories you told tonight- they don't exactly coincide with what I've read here."

"He was a chameleon," I said simply, wiping my now-sweaty palms on my pant legs. I would have given anything for a change of subject right then.

But Stuart went on, "I mean, there's this one story- he and his boyfriend were out shopping and his credit card- I guess it was declined or something, overdrawn I guess- and he looks at the cashier, and -he doesn't apologize, doesn't follow through with a Plan B, he goes-" here Stuart put a hand on his thrown out hip, made an exaggerated "displeased high-society" face, and scoffed effeminately, "'Don't you know who I am?'"

"Yeah, I remember that." I swallowed hard.

"Was he ever like that with you?"

"In degrees, yes- but never to that extreme. He was very kind to me, for the most part- and he apologized many times for the less-than-perfect moments."

"Mm." Quietly he set the book on the coffee table. "If you like, I can leave this with you, if you ever need something to read."

"Unlikely," I croaked. "You- you don't have to leave it here. I've got the real thing."

"Ah- but like you said, he's a chameleon," Stuart reminded me. "And perhaps it would be a good thing for you and all of us to remember that, while he may be putting on the charm now, and he may have done so then- this is a more, I guess, consummate portrayal of him, good stuff to keep in the back of your mind, am I right?"

You think I don't, Stuart? I snarled inwardly- but arguing would serve no purpose. All I did was shrug in surrender, and concede, "I'll be sure to give it back when I'm through." After a beat, I made myself say, "Thank you."

"Just trying to help, of course," Stuart smiled. Glancing at his watch, he slammed the rest of his drink and set it down. "And on that happy note, I'll have to blow. I'll see you tomorrow- and hopefully we'll be able to get him home by Friday. I know I keep saying that, but-" he kissed my lips- "I mean it this time."

"Freddie can't wait," I smiled weakly, walking him to the door. "And neither can I."

"Good old Jules," he said approvingly. "See you tomorrow, I hope?"

"Mm-hm," I managed. "Good luck."

"Thanks- and tell Freddie I said hi when he comes back!"

"I will." And I shut the front door.

That is, if he comes back...

Hands shaking, heart pounding in my head, I headed for the kitchen, reached into my purse, and pulled out my pack of cigarettes. Three in a day, I said to myself dryly. If this keeps up, I'll need to go back to rehab.

After a moment, Danny emerged from his room. "Is he gone?"

At that, I burst out laughing- not that it was really a funny thing to say, but I couldn't help myself. "'Fraid so, Daniel-san," I said, breathing in the smoke.

"Good," he sighed. "He sure is weird about Freddie."

"Yeah," I nodded. "That's one way to put it." After a moment, I remembered, with a little pang in my heart, and I had to ask, "Speaking of which- what were you guys talking about just before he drove away?"

Danny balked. "Nothing, except..."

"What?"

"Uh- he said, um-"

"Sweetie, it's okay to tell me. Go on."

He looked up at me, and spat it out: "Freddie thinks you don't like him."

Of course, that hurt. I took a deep breath and rubbed my temple. "Well- he's wrong," I said in a flat, tired voice. "He's my friend."

"I know! That's what I tried to tell him, and he wouldn't believe me." He slouched against the counter. "Did you like it better this time, or that time?"

"Like what?"

"The movie, Mom!"

"Both," I copped out.

"Aw, come on!"

"It's true! I had a great couple of guys sitting with me tonight, and I had a great guy with me in 1977. I couldn't ask for a better time either way."

"Yeah, but Freddie is better than Dr. Preus."

I was shocked at his bluntness. "Why, Danny! Don't say that."

"It's true!"

"Look," I spluttered quickly, "just- just because you might think Freddie is more fun doesn't make him better."

"I know, but still- Freddie's my friend."

"Isn't Stuart your friend, too?"

"No."

My jaw dropped. "Well- then- what is he?"

"He's- I don't know. But he's not my friend. Just 'cause he's your boyfriend doesn't mean he has to be my friend."

I had never heard him speak this way before. "But, Danny, you're his friend-"

"No, I'm NOT!" he cried, face flushing. "He's not my friend, I'm not his friend, he's trying to be my dad and he can't be my dad because he wasn't my dad in the first place, and I don't want him to be!"

It was very quiet in the minutes following his outburst. That was the closest thing he had had to a tantrum in recent years- but this time, there was true feeling, a suppressed longing, behind it. And I had nothing to say.

Danny blinked, and looked at the floor. "I'm sorry. Lately I just- keep thinking about him- my dad- and- I just... "

I thought I saw a tear fall onto one of the lenses. My heart broke for him. After a beat, he turned his face toward me again. I looked at my sweet little boy, standing there with such earnest, his moist, beautiful eyes sparkling behind his glasses.

"Come here, offspring," I whispered.

He drew nearer, half-smiling. "What?"

"I need a hug."

"Okay." With no further questions, Danny put his arms around me and held on so tight he almost squeezed a few tears out of my own eyes. I held him close.

"I love you so much, Danny," I whispered thickly. "I always will."

"Aishiteru," he murmured back.

With a little laugh, I said, "You know, I don't mind hearing that in English every once in a while."

After a pause, Danny replied. "I love you too, Mom."

Quietly I kissed his cheek, ruffling his shaggy dark hair. "Thank you, sweetie, I needed that."

"So did I."

I will never get to keep your father, I told him silently, but I will never cease to be glad God let me have you.

Danny drew back. "You cold, Mom?"

I sniffed. "Hm? No. Why?"

"You're shaking."

"I'm all right," I replied. "I'll be better once Freddie comes back. Do you know where he went?"

"Nope. He just left."

"Uh-huh," I sighed. "That's what I thought." Then I told Danny I would stay up and make sure Freddie got home safe.

"Can I stay up, too?"

"It's a school night, Danny."

"But you're staying up!"

"I don't go to school."

"You work at one!"

"Not the same thing, but nice try," I laughed. "Off with you now- lights out as soon as you finish your homework, or else finish it in the morning!"

"O-yasumi nasai," he sighed begrudgingly. "Will you tell me when he gets back though?"

"Oh, very well, I will," I smiled. "Good night!"

Danny disappeared into his room, this time staying there, leaving me in a whirlwind of emotion. I drummed my fingers restlessly against the counter, then snatched up my cell phone. I dialed the number of Danny's phone, currently in Freddie's possession.

As I'd half-expected, the call went straight to voice mail. With a sigh, I left a halting message, asking him to call when he had the chance to, that I was merely checking on him, making sure he was okay, and having a good time- and that I really wished he had been there with us.

I hung up, poured myself a drink, and situated myself comfortably on the sofa with a book- and no, not Stuart's book. I was feeling down enough as it was. I believe it was something just as cheery, though- Ray Bradbury, perhaps, or- no, it was The Great Gatsby. F. Scott Fitzgerald. Yes! A true classic- and a sad one to boot.

But I couldn't escape the feelings, felt the darkness hanging ominously over my head. I don't know if I was really trying anyway. I'd feel better once Freddie came home, and I knew he was safe.

Fry nestled against my leg, Farnsie squawked overhead. And very softly, I sang to myself the words I'd heard tonight on Stuart's music, words that had never seemed so relevant till now:

See the stone set in your eyes,
See the thorn twist in your side
I wait for you

Sleight of hand and twist of fate
On a bed of nails she makes me wait
And I wait without you

With or without you
With or without you

Through the storm we reach the shore
You give it all but I want more
And I'm waiting for you

With or without you
With or without you o-ho
I can't live
With or without you

And you give yourself away
And you give yourself away
And you give,
And you give,
And you give yourself away

My hands are tied,
My body bruised, she got me with
Nothing to win, and
Nothing left to lose

And you give yourself away
And you give yourself away
And you give,
And you give,
And you give yourself away

With or without you
With or without you, o-oh...

I lifted the chain before my eyes, looked at the ring, and just for fun slid it onto my finger. It fit just as snugly as ever. Of course it did.

"I can't live," I finished, "with or without you..."