Fatal Identity

Christina knelt on the floor in front of him, her hands flat against his thighs. There’d been a time, not that long ago, when that would’ve been enough to fire him up. Now he felt nothing for her or his son or his family or his friends. He felt absolutely nothing but pain.

“You’re scaring me, Tommy. You can’t go on this way. You need help. You have to let us help you.”

“I don’t have to do anything. You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I can’t possibly know what you went through that night, but the Tommy I know and love—”

“Is dead. That guy died on a sidewalk right along with his partner. So if you don’t like the new and improved Tommy, maybe you should cut your losses and get out.”

Her face went slack with shock, tears flooding her eyes. “You don’t mean that.”

“Maybe I do.”

“Tommy...”

“Don’t make this harder than it has to be. We had a good thing, but it’s over now.”

“You... Alex...”

“Take him. Take him and just go. Leave me alone.”

“I’m not leaving you, Tommy,” she said as sobs shook her petite body.

Once upon a time, her tears would’ve moved him. “Then I’ll go.”

“No. You’re not going, and neither am I. We’re a family, and if you won’t fight for our family then I will.”

“Knock yourself out.” He reached for the bottle.

She grabbed it from his hand, and it went flying, smashing into the glass coffee table and shattering it.

The sight of her surrounded by shards of glass cleared the fog in his brain, making way for a moment of clarity. “Don’t move.”

As tears continued to rain down her face, she whimpered.

Standing, he reached for her and lifted her up and off the floor.

Christina wrapped her arms around his neck and curled her legs around his hips. She trembled violently, her tears wetting his face.

“You’re okay. I’ve got you.” His heart beat fast and hard as fear sliced through the numbness.

“Please don’t let me go, Tommy.” Her chest heaved from the strength of her sobs. “I’d never survive it.”

He tightened his hold on her, blinking rapidly to stop tears that suddenly couldn’t be contained. His chest ached as the dam broke, flooding him with a barrage of emotions he was unequipped to handle. Fear and grief and love and despair... All of it poured forth as Christina clung to him. He’d never cried like this before. Not when his grandparents died or when he found out he had a son he didn’t know about or when Arnold was killed right in front of him.

Something about the sight of Christina surrounded by broken glass had done what nothing else could. It had broken him. Leaning against a wall, he slid down, taking her with him, until they were on the floor. She never let go, holding him through the storm the way she had from the beginning.

He had no idea how long they were there before he found his voice. “I... I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said those things. I didn’t mean—”

Cradling his face in her hands, she kissed him and wiped away his tears. “We need help, Tommy. We can’t do this alone. Please. Before we lose us...”

He hesitated but only for a second. “Okay.”

* * *

SAM SHOT OUT of bed, going from asleep to running in the blink of an eye when she heard Scotty cry out. Fearing another vomit-astrophe, she steeled herself as she turned the corner in his room and found him sitting up in bed, weeping.

“Buddy, what’s wrong? Are you feeling sick again?”

She’d never seen him cry like this, as if his heart were breaking. Sam sat on the bed and wrapped her arms around him. The heat from his body radiated through the thin T-shirt he wore, but he didn’t feel quite as hot as he had during the night.

“I still feel awful,” he said between sobs. “I can’t go to the party.”

“I’m so sorry, and so is Dad. We know how disappointed you are.” And she knew that under normal circumstances, Scotty would never cry over such a thing. “But Dad said last night—and it’s true—there’ll be lots and lots of chances to have fun with your friends and lots of other parties.”

“I wanted to go to this one.”

“I know.” Desperate to find a way to comfort him, she settled him back on his pillow. “How about we have our own little party right here? We’ll watch whatever movie you want and play video games.”

His shoulders lifted ever so slightly.

She was no substitute for his friends, but she’d do whatever she could to fill the void. “You want to get up and try to eat something?”

He shook his head. “No, thanks. Not yet.”

“Let me know when you’re ready.” She tucked him in and kissed his forehead.

“Thanks,” he said, “for taking care of me and stuff.”

“It’s my pleasure.”

“Sure,” he said with the tiniest hint of a smile. “Cleaning up puke is a pleasure.”

“Being your mom is a pleasure. The good, the bad and the ugly. I love it all.”

“Something’s wrong with you if you like the ugly.”

“I hear that every day.” She left him with a smile and went back to her room, crawling in bed next to Nick, who hadn’t stirred. When she placed a hand on his back, the heat of his body alarmed her. She felt his forehead and launched out of bed to find the thermometer Harry had left for her. Running it over his forehead, she gasped when it registered at 104.5. Dear God!

“Nick.” She shook his shoulder. “Babe, wake up. You’ve got to take something for the fever.” Kissing his cheek, she said, “Nick, wake up.” He didn’t respond, even when she shook him vigorously.

Frantic, Sam grabbed her phone from the bedside table and called Harry. “Nick is at 104.5, and he won’t wake up,” she said the second Harry answered.

“Call 911. Right now. I’ll meet you at GW.”

“I can’t leave Scotty with only his detail!”

“Call Tracy to stay with him.”