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Bygones	By : 8inchCaliper Category: Individual Celebrities > Alan Rickman Views: 2014 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. I do not know Alan Rickman. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 1-Bygones
- 1
Bygones

author - 8inchCaliper

summary - Blow Dry fic in which Shelley wants Phil and Sandra to bury the hatchet - for once and for all...

rating - NC/17

disclaimer - I do not own Blow Dry or any of the characters therein. damn.

Phil Allen shuts his eyes for strength as he watches Sandra cuddle his ex-wife, Shelly. Sandra's dark hair spills over Shelly's shoulder and onto her golden wig. Phil turns to glance in the other direction, reserve crumbling. The two women look nice together, he must admit. Both very attractive. Sandra is dark and brash, somewhat butch, Phil would say. Shelley, though, is quite the opposite. She reminds him of home, a sweet motherly type, a flower. He used to worship her - and yet somehow, he took everything for granted.

Now, he cradles his drink in his hand, pondering the meaning of life again, a favorite secret pastime. The music in the background is nice. The national hair championships are won and everything seems okay even while he still remains, pathetically, unequivocally alone.

Brian and Christina are dancing close, Phil notices as he tries to ward away thoughts of deception. It doesn't always end badly, he tells himself. Sometimes, love doesn't hurt. Still, he is always suspicious of it. There's always that little equation one forgets to factor in. And his hazel eyes dance back over to Sandra while he plasters on his 'okay' face. If he continues to smile, no one will ever suspect he has slipped into another mini depression. Sandra should have her throat cut for hurting him the way she did. Sure, he knew she was gay the first time he laid eyes on her, but he'd never have suspected his own wife. Never in a million years. Sandra obviously coerced her somehow…

"I'm thinking of going to the states with her." Brian tells him a bit later, when most of the wine is gone and Sandra and Shelley have giggled their way up the steps to their bedroom.

"Right." Phil is distracted but nods, as if really comprehending his son. "The states are lovely, but are you sure you can trust this girl, I mean…" He trails off and shrugs to fill in the blank spots.

Brian sighs and shakes his head. "You don't have to hate her, Dad. She's not like Ray at all…"

"I know. I know, son." Phil glances up the staircase, intrigued by the stifled, muffled sound he has only just heard and that he is sure went unnoticed by the other two. Christina is perched in a corner of the salon, wary of Phil (with good reason. Her dad hates him) but still smiling shyly past her pink cheeks.

"Well, I'm going to walk her to her hotel."

"Good idea." Phil says, downing the last of his own cognac. "I'll be along home soon."

Brian goes with Christina, and Phil prattles around his wife's and Sandra's salon alone. Good celebration makes him miss the old days, when he'd be going to bed with his wife. Things have changed since then. Changed quite a bit. Now, he sleeps alone, cuts his own hair, gripes at Brian for recreation, dreads visits from the likes of folks like Raymond Robertson…the thought makes him a little nauseous.

There's that sound again…

He glances up the staircase, letting the soft glow of yellow light beckon him. The sound could have been a laugh or a sigh. He really shouldn't intrude, but… well… he should let them know if he's going to leave now, so they can lock up shop… or would they just want him to do it? Oh well. Better safe than sorry.

The stairs don't creak when he puts his weight on them, which is lucky for him. He'll have to announce his presence some other way. Perhaps they're enjoying the television together. Surely they do that on occasion, watch the telly. He used to enjoy a good program before he gave it all up for full-time brooding. The sounds are getting louder, and he recognizes the voice as Shelley's.

Of course the door is open a touch when he gets to it, and he pauses outside it to look in. He can't really place a label on what he's feeling as he watches them. It's not shock, really. No, that'd be too stark a description. He's intrigued more than anything, plastered to his spot, lips pursed white with concentration.
Sandra is lying between Shelley's tanned, shapely legs and she has them draped over her shoulders as Shelley arches beneath her. She is still wearing the golden blond wig and Phil notes how well is stays in place as Shelley slowly gyrates her body, that gloriously perfect, wonderfully soft body. No one would ever know there's a black cancer eating her from the inside out, killing her slowly. He chokes up a bit just thinking of it, but soon he forces it out of his mind as he watches Sandra's slender pale hand reach up to caress a perfectly round breast, powder pink nipple slipping between middle and index finger. Shelley gasps and moves her pelvis to get more of what Sandra's doing with her talented tongue, no doubt.

Phil may seem a zombie to the townsfolk, a misanthropist, a loner, washed up and out, but he can still feel and his body still reacts the way it should. Currently, he cannot deny what watching this display is doing to him and it all feels oddly tawdry and somehow nice.

As Shelley gets more into it, Phil wishes more and more it was him bringing her this pleasure, making her make those sounds, making her body sheen over with sweat that way. He remembers their sex and how good it was most of the time, and this is why he cannot imagine how Shelley could have abandoned him for Sandra, picked up and went, jetted their way towards lesbian bliss. - and left Brian no less.

- but currently, Brian is the furthest thing from Phil's mind. The sight of Shelley like this…well…the sight of Sandra and Shelley like this is almost too much. Sandra is pale and thin and long, like a panther stretched above Shelley, her head moving in slow circles as she tongues the soft wet place where Shelley's creamy thighs meet. And Shell is clutching the sheets with white knuckles, biting her lip to keep from screaming, obviously, and Phil remembers, with a pang, how he loved to see her make that face. His erection strains in his slacks and he tries to will it away even while his feet are firmly planted to the spot. Wild horses couldn't drag him away now. Not until she finishes at least…

But oddly, she seems to have stopped. Her eyes open and she sits up, just in time for Phil to move back a bit into the shadows. Shelley is pushing Sandra gently away and urging her up next to her.

"What is it, love?" Sandra's voice is husky with arousal and her face is shining with sweat and her lover's juices.

"It's nothing. It's not you…" she caresses Sandra's hair, the place in back very recently cut to the scalp by Phil for total look, displaying the elaborate tattoo. "…it's just…"

"What?" Sandra looks disappointed. "Is it him again?"

Shelley shrugs, and Phil is confused by this exchange. What the hell are they talking about?

"Yes…No…I don't know, San…I just…I keep picturing him in my head, and…"

"You want him, then?" Sandra says and stands in a huff, her long, lean body on full display to Phil who notices her dark pubic hair glistening with her own arousal. "I'll go and get him, if that’s what you want…"

"Please, stop it, San…" Shelley's soft voice is like a song to Phil. God, how did he ever deserve her?

And then the door is opening and Sandra's pink face is facing Phil's white face. He can't imagine what he should say besides, "I was looking for the loo…"

Shelley, seeing him in the hallway smiles a bit, covering herself with the comforter. Phil wonders why she would do this as Sandra shakes her head at him.

"Having an eyeful, were you?"

Phil shrugs one shoulder, sheepishly. "I… I'm really sorry. Forgive me, please, the both of you."

"It's alright, Phil." Shelley says, softly. "Come inside, pull up an edge."

Phil glances at Sandra, searching her face for permission and receiving her reluctant nod before going to perch on the bed beside Shelley. When Sandra comes in, she throws on a robe and starts to nervously prattle as Phil looks into Shelley's eyes.

"This is terribly awkward." He says. "I never meant to intrude. I swear it."

"We were just talking about you." Shelley says shyly, still covering herself. "I was hoping you hadn't left."

"Ay, she was." Sandra says, condescendingly. "She talks about you a lot. Can't seem to decide between us, there Phil, should feel good about that."

Phil continues to sit, only he drops his eyes to the pink shag carpet. "I'd say she made up her mind when she up and flew the coop."

"Don't Phil," Shelley says, caressing his face. "Not tonight, after such a wonderful time together. I just…I want…"

"Yes?" He says, edging away from her a bit.

"I need you both. Tonight. At least once… before I…"

"Don't say it, Shell…" Sandra's large dark eyes have gone fiery with determination. "…you can say whatever you want - but not that."

Shelley nods at her lover before reaching for her ex-husband and drawing him closer. She admires his handsome face, the sad hazel eyes, the curve of his mouth, his sandy gray blond hair.

“Shelley…” He resists her as best he can, but her small hands are insistent and before long he is engaged in a sweet kiss, the softest thing in the universe, sending heat throughout him and making his heart skip a beat in his chest. This feeling startles him at first, and he thinks maybe it best if he flee the scene, but Shelley holds him in place, her tongue tracing his lips as he pulls back.

Sandra watches from a shadowy place across the room, her dark eyes never leaving them, and Phil feels himself rejoicing inside. There’s a certain triumph that comes from winning what you’d thought you’d lost – even if only for this moment in time. And honestly, it had felt good being rude to Sandra in the streets, ignoring her, not speaking. She’d deserved what she’d gotten. Just as she deserves the realization that Shelley won’t even be with her for very long. It’s cruel but he can relish in this cruelty, at least. Life is cruel after all – and non-forgiving.

“Kiss him.” Shelley’s voice brings him out of his reverie and he gapes at her, disgust clouding his features.

“Don’t, Shell…” He murmurs, glaring at Sandra.

“It’s time the two of you made up. For good.” Shelley has a determination in her voice that Phil isn’t sure he likes. He doesn’t want Sandra in that way. He wants her to vanish into thin air, to be frank.

“He doesn’t want to make up, Shell.” Sandra says, hugging herself and looking very alone. “And quite frankly, you can have each other cause I’m leaving.” And she starts to gather some things as Shelley stands and stops her.

“You won’t even do it for me, will you? What do I have to do to bring you two together?”

“This isn’t it, Shell. He’d rather run me down with the car than kiss me lips – and maybe I’m a sick cow for even entertaining the thought, but…”

“I’ll do it.” Phil says as both women turn to look at him.

“What?” Sandra drops a ruddy old pair of jeans onto the floor, clutching her robe to her. “What did you say?”

“Come here.” Phil says quietly, standing.

Sandra looks back and forth between Shelly and Phil before going slowly to stand before him. Her face is uncertain and a little sour, but there’s also a glint in her eyes Phil can’t read. The two of them had, not hours ago, been sort of locked in an embrace, him cradling her head in his large hands, cutting her hair from her scalp and dressing her in gold lamet and glitter. She’s giggled and turned coy in his presence as if they’d been preparing one another for Home Coming, sharing secret glances and touching shyly, if only passing things from hand to hand. She’d smiled a lot, and Phil had felt as if they’d come to understanding. Then. But this is now, and Phil’s hands are trembling as he brings her face closer to his. The look between the two of them is an understanding that this is being done for Shelley and afterward…well…they will deal with it when it comes…

His lips are warm against hers, gentle and tentative. Her arms dangle awkwardly at her sides, and she feels herself getting dizzy as he slowly parts her mouth with his tongue before dancing inside to find hers. She is angry at her reaction, at her soft moan in the back of her throat. Damn, he feels good against her.

Frightened, she pulls away, smirking nervously and wiping her mouth with the back of her sleeve.
“Good enough for you, Shell?”

Shelley smiles and comes close and kisses Phil again, this time hungrily, sucking his tongue into her mouth and standing on tiptoe to really get a taste for him. God, it had been so long. How did she leave all this behind? His hands are on her body, holding her lightly by the waist and she presses closer, feeling his hardness. Yes, she needed this. Surely Sandra will understand…

When the kiss breaks, Phil licks his lips, missing the taste of her already. But he doesn’t let go of her. He can’t seem to make himself.

“Shelley… I don’t know if…”

“I want you to.” She whispers to him before turning to beckon to Sandra. “Out of that robe, with you…”

Sandra reluctantly lets the terrycloth drop down her slim body and joins them in an embrace as she lets her hand come up to caress Phil’s soft blondish locks. He’s really attractive; she muses as he nuzzles her gently. And she also wonders, idly, if his hair down below is this color, this fading blond, almost transparent.

Now Phil takes Sandra into his arms, their gazes locking briefly before he plunges in and kisses her angrily, bruising her mouth and her keeping up, sucking his tongue as best she can in all his fury, and reaching down to rest her hand against his crotch. He gasps against her lips, and Shelley smirks at this display. They’re like children together, uncertain and woeful. Phil begrudgingly admitting to himself that he likes Sandra, and Sandra doing the same, familiarizing herself with him intimately.

Sandra starts to unzip him as Shelley kisses Phil’s mouth, chin, cheeks, face and eyes, her hands dragging through his hair. Sandra is down on her knees, freeing him and taking the hard flesh into her hands. He’s a nice size, she notes, warm and thick and medium long with a perfect pink spongy head and a slight curve to the left. She licks her lips before she licks him and he trembles in Shelley’s embrace.

“Oh, Sandra…” His eyes slip shut as Shelley touches his face, tracing one blond elegant eyebrow.

The look on his face is sweet torture as the two women lead him to the full size and lower him onto it. He has a slight look of foreboding on his face, but that’s just Phil’s way. Always worrying about ramifications, always uncertain and a little afraid – or cynical from the start. Of course he thinks nothing good will come of this, but maybe he’s wrong this time…

And now Shelley climbs over him, face to face and rests her forehead against his while Sandra gets low and slides his member into her mouth, resting him on the pad of her tongue and humming quietly against it. He winces a bit when she starts to move forward and back over him, her mouth cradling him like a tight wet sock. He wraps his arms around Shelley and kisses her lips, absently, enjoying the feel of her on him, her light weight nothing to him. If only he could turn back the hands of the clock, get some of his time with her back. Maybe things might be different. Maybe he wouldn’t be dreading going home tomorrow, alone, lonely as ever but with this extra baggage to take with him the rest of his days… fellatio with Sandra…. sounds like a cooking show on BBC.

“Do you like it, Phil?” Shelley whispers against his cheek as he caresses her pale breast, like pliant porcelain.

He can only smile weakly as Sandra continues to graze the underside with teeth, tongue circling and doing ungodly things to him.

“Sandra’s not so bad…” she says softly, teasingly, as Phil can’t help the cough/laugh that escapes him.

“Great way of convincing me, love.”

“There’s one other thing I need…” she says softly, as Shelley straddles him more fully and Sandra climbs up the bed beside them.

“Anything for you, Shell. Anything at all.”

And with a parted mouth and a face full of arousal, she slides down onto him allowing him to fill her. They groan in unison as she completely impales herself and Phil’s eyes roll back inside his head as he shuts them slowly. Sandra lazily caresses Shelley’s soft breasts, gently rolling the nipples as Phil rests his head back, blond hair falling away from his forehead, eyes closed in concentration. And soon, Shelley is moaning softly, riding him with a bit more vigor.

“Oh Phil…” she whimpers. “…so good, love. God…”

Sandra ignores the slight pang of jealousy stabbing at her from the inside. Instead, she sits back on her heels, watching them and trying to tune out the arousing sounds of their coitus. Phil is so tense, even during sex, tiny crinkles forming at the corners of his eyes, teeth clenched to keep from screaming out, no doubt.

Sandra, at some point feels as if she is being locked out of their little bubble and is close to leaving the room when Phil opens his eyes and reaches for her.

“Touch me, Sandra…” He whispers, hazel eyes intense on her as Shelley bows over him, rocking her hips forward and back.

Sandra, unsure how to proceed, comes close again and starts to caress his chest, dragging fingers gently across the soft lightly hairy expanse, feeling his heart thundering beneath his skin. Her nails lightly graze his rose colored nipples and he gasps, stretching more towards her as she does.

Soon, however, Shelley is screwing her face up in concentration as she arches back, her beautiful body starting to tremble all over.

“Oh God… Phil… God…It’s here, love…uh…uh…uh…”

And she’s tumbling down across his body, shaking and crying out against his chest. Phil caresses her head, careful not to disengage the piece as she continues to have her orgasm, and Sandra is in awe watching her, vaguely impressed by the magnitude of her climax.

When she is capable, she looks up, eyes red with tears and kisses his mouth brutally, holding tight to him as Sandra looks on in wonder. ‘Well, if she was so into him, what the bloody hell did she need me for?’ she asks herself as Shelley rolls off Phil and rests her sweat-shined body beside him.

In a weary voice, Shelley regards her female lover and curls her lips into a grin. “You want to have a go at him, love?” Shelley’s hand closes around Phil’s still-hard phallus as he winces a bit and tries to avoid Sandra’s gaze. He gives Sandra a lot of credit for even doing this much, but he knows that expecting her to have sex with him might be asking a bit too much.

“You don’t have to, San…” He says in a slightly taut voice.

Sandra rests on her side, regarding the two of them. Sure, she sucked him off, but that’s not so odd, is it? After all, what’s a little oral sex between friends? But actual sex? Phil Allen inside her? On top of her? All over her? Could she really stand it? What if it bothers her too bad later? Would she ever get his smell off of her, his seed out of her? Maybe she should have brought condoms – just in case…

“I don’t know.” She says looking off into the distance. “I just…don’t know…”

“It’s fine.” He reassures her, reaching out experimentally to caress her head, her shoulder, her arm. He notices gooseflesh rising along her pale skin and he bends down to kiss it. She shivers, and Shelley meets Phil’s eyes, grinning slightly.

“It’s not you, Phil. It’s just that…”

“I understand, Sandra.” He whispers, laying soft kisses on her hair. “You don’t have to do anything you don’t want.”

“I know.” She says in a conflicted voice, simultaneously loving the warmth of his closeness. “And I still think we can try to be friends…”

“I like that idea.” Phil says smiling warmly, letting his hand rest platonically against her flat stomach, his thumb just over her belly button, pinkie finger just brushing the edge of her pubic mound. She shuts her eyes and rests back as he starts to caress her there, the sensitive skin tingling slightly.

Shelley kisses Phil’s shoulder and then climbs over him to rest on the other side of Sandra. When Sandra opens her eyes, they share a passionate kiss, Shelley’s tongue flowing slowly into Sandra’s mouth as she exhales softly.

Meanwhile, Phil has stayed within his boundaries, caressing her skin gently, just her belly and torso, nothing more and nothing less until Sandra’s hand closes over his and moves his hand downward a bit until his palm is over the soft dark patch of hair. Very slowly, with caution, he dips a finger beneath the folds and meets her sensitive little nub. She squirms on the bed, eyes shutting as Shelley starts to kiss her more deeply, sucking her tongue into her mouth and holding onto one of her small pert breasts, squeezing the dark wine colored nipple.

“Shelley…don’t stop…you know what I like, love…” she turns to Phil with half lidded eyes and smirks at him. “…Nor you, Phil. I think I could kill you if you stopped right now.”

He grins at her. “I think you could always kill me.” And then he dips another finger between her lower lips and starts to tickle the sensitive nodule, circling his fingers around slowly until she’s arching towards him and clutching his arm in a vice grip.

Without thinking, Sandra reaches for Phil’s erection and starts to stroke it as he continues to play around between her legs. His deep sexy voice is even sexier when he starts to make strangled sounds in the back of his throat, forcing himself to be still when all he wants to do is thrust.

“Sandra…” Shelley whispers, reaching for Sandra. “…I need you…”

Sandra, easily distracted, rolls over onto Shelley and kisses her fiercely. She is on her knees over Shell, straddling her, and Phil lets his hands drop to his sides as he openly watches the two women, eyes glazing over in awe.

“Beautiful…” He says softly, watching them.

Sandra, kissing and biting at Shelley’s neck stops abruptly to glance over at Phil, as if gripped by a sudden revelation. “Over here, you…” She says softly. “…but I warn you, go slow. I haven’t been on the receiving end in a good little while. It’ll do you good to take it inch by inch…”

Phil isn’t sure what he’s hearing. “Sandra, I…”

“I know what I want, and I want this.” She pauses, blushing all over. “I…I wanted it before, but…it wasn’t appropriate, was it?”

At hearing these words, Shelley playfully slaps her lover’s flank. “You filthy little slut! You never told me!”

“Well, he is a sexy beast, isn’t he? Can’t very well blame me for noticing, eh?”

Phil gets warm in the face from this exchange and tries to appear unfettered. “Sandra, are you sure? I could take care of myself if…”

“Not another word, Phil. I want this…” And Sandra’s dark eyes are so intense that Phil doesn’t challenge it anymore, simply moves in behind her, caressing the backs of her thighs and kissing her shoulder blades.

Sandra bends low over Shelley and starts to kiss her neck again, to fondle her breasts, and Phil guides himself to her entrance, just rubbing the head against her. Sandra whimpers in anticipation.
“Do it, Phil…” She encourages in a husky voice.

Phil slowly starts to sheath himself inside her, constantly checking her to make sure she’s all right and moving forward when he gets her nod of assurance. Soon, he is buried to the hilt inside her, holding onto her hips for leverage and absolutely fighting himself not to screw her raw. Not only is she so warm and wet, but she’s also incredibly tight around him. It’s taking every bone in his body to resist slamming into her.

And then she says it, and he thinks he hears something break inside him. “Fuck me, Phil – with every resentful bone in your body.”

He says a silent prayer first before ramming himself in deep and retreating only to repeat. Beneath Sandra, Shelley has her fingers between Sandra’s legs, stroking her nubbin in quick little circles as Phil drives her from behind. Hard. Shelley is almost wishing she were the one on the receiving end again as she catches sight of Phil’s determined face, hazel eyes shut over long lashes, teeth biting into his lower lip as he brings himself and Sandra closer and closer to the brink, his hand resting on Sandra’s shoulder, nails digging into skin.

“Oh God… Phil…shite… I’m gonna… this is so… oh fuck… Phil… bloody fucking hell…” Sandra’s litany of swear words does nothing to keep Phil grounded; instead he picks up the pace a bit and starts to pound her even harder, if that’s even possible, grasping firmly onto her hips as he does.

“Sandra…” he says in a strained voice. “…Sandra…God…” He is vaguely aware that this is a mistake, the whole thing – but he is way too far-gone now. Sandra feels like a goddess around him, like liquid gold. He didn’t come here for this, but here he is, getting to know Sandra in the biblical sense… what will this mean in the long run – long after Shelley has surrendered to the cancer…what will become of them?

“I’m coming…” Sandra cries out in an uncharacteristically high voice. “…Oh God, Phil, fuck, this is good… I’m coming, damn you…”

And soon she follows it up with a feral howl as her body trembles around Phil, sending him crashing down along with her, filling her with his liquid warmth, tainting her, branding her his… He tilts his head back and continues to empty himself inside her as they both let is drain them completely.

His hand hold fast to her, drawing her body up so that her back is pressed to his belly and he kisses her head and neck and shoulders, unwilling to separate them even as he softens inside her.

Shelley lies on the bed, glancing up at them with an ironic little smile on her face and a bittersweet feeling in her heart. This is ultimately what she wanted, even though it feels like a strange lament.

Later, the three of them are lying together, not sleeping exactly but each in his or her own thoughts. Phil’s hand is resting casually on Sandra’s hip as Shelley lounges between them with her head on his shoulder and her back pressed against Sandra’s front, classic spoon position. Sandra opens her eyes and meets Phil’s gaze before she lowers them slowly.

“I should leave soon.” He says in a tired voice moving his hand away from Sandra. “Brian will be round to call.”

“Yeah…” Shelley says softly. “…I imagine he were wondering what happened to you.”

Phil snorts. “Yeah, if he didn’t up and go with what’s- her-name.”

“Christina seems like a good sort.” Shelley says as Phil gets up and tugs on his slacks. “I think he picked a good’n with her.”

Again, Phil snorts as he pulls on his sweater and jacket. “Suppose.”

“She’s no Ray.” Sandra tosses out absently as Shelley wraps her arms around her.

Phil pretends not to notice. In fact, he decides he will put this entire incident out of his head, file it away in the deviant behavior category. If he pretends long enough, whose to say it ever happened at all?

“I’d say we reached a happy medium, yes?” Shelley’s voice cuts though his thoughts as he turns to look at her pretty face. Sandra is choosing to look heavenward at this particular moment, no doubt saying a silent prayer for their souls.

“Sure.” Phil says, careful to keep the cynicism out of his voice. “Happy medium.”

“So I have your word that the two of you will look after one another when…”

“Yes.” Phil answers, not ready to hear that last part. “Yes. You have our word.” He prompts Sandra for confirmation. “Sandra?”

“Yea…” she smiles a little, uncertainty clouding her quirky features. “…O’ course, love. You have our word. I’d say we should shake on it, but I think we done one better…”

Phil flushes as he waves to them both and starts to exit. He doesn’t say what he’s really thinking, that he’d rather swim the Thames than be in the same room with Sandra again after last night. He doesn’t say that he feels like an ass for going against his better judgment and fooling himself into thinking that this might actually make a difference for the better. Instead, he feels more introverted than before, shaken and upset, weary. God, what if Brian finds out he consorted with the enemy in this way? Getting along is one thing, but sharing bodily fluids? The thought makes him a little queasy…

* * * * * * * * * *

It’s approximately one year later as Brian and Phil and Sandra and several other acquaintances and friends stand over the grave of Shelley Allen. Phil has spent more than enough time mourning to do it now, and Sandra stands nearby, holding his hand. Well…clutching in a vice grip, more like.

Brian is standing very near to Christina who drops an occasional grief-stricken tear onto the fat cheek of the infant in her arms. Brian’s face is puffy and tormented as he looks down at the coffin bathed in roses. He breathes unevenly, trying to get a reign on his emotions as he reflects on a mother he barely knew, a mother he made every effort with in her last days so he could make up for a childhood spent virtually empty of her. And it had helped, in all honesty. It really had. She had laughed and danced – and later sang softly and caressed his head as he slept, the way she might’ve done when he was small. It was a shame, those misspent days, but he’d given it a great deal of effort there in the end. Now, he feels every bit as bad as if she’d spent every waking moment with him, as if she’d been a constant in his life – and in a way, she was.

Following the proceedings, Ray Robertson comes up to Phil and offers a few kind words. In lieu of all that has happened, they have finally managed to let bygones be bygones and bury the hatchet. Phil shakes his hand and Ray pulls a reluctant Phil into a brotherly embrace. The other attendees have a round of applause at this long-standing rivalry finally put to rest.

Later, after the dinner and words of prayer and remembrance, Sandra goes to where Christina is and kisses the baby in her arms.

“You had enough of her, yet?”

“She’s the perfect little angel.” Christina smiles down at the little bundle. “But, I guess she’s probably ready for her mom.”

Sandra then takes the baby and cradles her against her bosom. “You’ve been a big help today. Thanks.” Sandra grins at Christina, then. “So you think you and Brian are ready to try your hand at it?”

Christina flushes. “Oh. Well…I dunno…”

“Your dad’d have a fit, wouldn’t he?” Sandra smiles sadly then, feeling suddenly melancholy. “All in good time, yea?”

Christina nods, picking up on Sandra’s mood shift. “Yea, all in good time.”

And Sandra makes her way through the crowd to where Phil is standing, gazing out the window into the chilly fall air.

“You alright, love?” she inquires in a soft voice.

Phil turns to her and smiles, warmly and welcoming. “Of course I am. Now, especially. My two favorite girls are here.” He then bends down and kisses the mother’s mouth gently, then baby’s head. “I love you, Sandra.” He says it so quietly, she can barely hear it, but her eyes fill anyway.
“And I love you, Phil.” She pauses, looking out into the horizon. “You think it was a good idea to name her after our girl? To name her Shelley?”

Phil nods slowly. “Yeah. I wouldn’t have any other name for my daughter.” He softly caresses the baby’s delicate downy soft head. “Would you?”

Sandra shakes her head. “No…it’s just… I can’t stop thinking about her.”

“Nor can I, kid.” He whispers. “But we’ll manage, right?” He leans in closer to her, letting her feel his body heat and his strength. “We promised her after all, and I’m not about to go back on it. Are you?”

She shakes her head, slowly, wishing for his bravery. “Hell no.”

He smirks at her, glad for that fire in her eyes, knowing it will keep them all the rest of their days together. “Good. Now lets go home.”

END
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