Chapter 15

"Daddy, why are you sleeping in the study?" the little boy asked.

Ray expected the question would pop up. They were young, but they were not stupid. They were anything but stupid. Normally he was not at his best in the mornings. But for some reason he was startled awake yet again. He really thought he was dealing with the anger and the stress pretty well, but these startling surges into wakefulness had him worried. So he was sitting on the couch thinking when Tim walked into the room.

"Daddy is just spending some alone time in here," Ray responded.

"Where is mommy?"

He wanted to tell the boy that alone time precludes having someone with you. However sarcasm would break so many parenting rules that it would take an eon to count them all.

"Mommy is in her, uh, our bedroom."

The boy looked even more confused. Young kids think of so many things as one unit. Peanut butter without jelly was impossible. Chicken nuggets weren't made without ketchup. So Daddy should always be with Mommy. It was time to tell Tim and Judy what was going on.

"But Mommy..."

"Timmy, Mommy and Daddy sometimes need a little time by themselves to work through some problems. Okay?"

"Okay," the little boy nodded. He didn't look okay.

Ray knew by later that night he and Dana would have to have a conversation with Judy. Tim was going to talk to her as soon as he could. Timmy trusted his sister to tell him the truth.

"Okay buddy, get ready for school."

He watched the boy scamper out of the room. Ray trailed after him heading for Dana's room. In actuality it was still their bedroom. He was planning to grab the clothes he would need for the day. It was getting to be more and more of a chore to have to march up the stairs every morning looking for a suit. It was harder and harder. Maybe the fire in his belly was not burning as brightly as it once did. It was the fire of anger and betrayal. It had empowered him before. It made no task too great, no action too repetitious that he wouldn't easily perform it, if it meant avoiding her. Now it was not so constant. And that way she looked asleep in the morning. Dana waking up was like a warm blanket in winter. The feeling was faint, but it was there. It was the feeling of wanting to climb into bed and wrap her around himself as the snow would fall outside the windows.

He walked up the stairs and into the room. He gave up knocking. It felt strange to knock on his own bedroom door. Dana even asked him not to do it. The knock made the distance between them seem ever so formal.

Dana was awake and getting dressed. Her movements were hurried. She was probably running late at getting the kids ready for school.

"Hi," she said.

"Hi," he answered back with a smile.

After 2 meetings with Mike and almost 2 weeks of daily anger sessions, even Ray had trouble staying angry all the time. The sessions now had boiled down to one session of ranting and cursing, and another session of calm regret. Dana seemed to have more trouble dealing with the calm regret, but she held up well. She never spoke. She would only gasp in shock every 3rd or 4th session now.

"So do you have a hard day today?" Dana asked

"No. Jam packed in the mourning. Some case review in the afternoon. But I plan to grab a lunch today. Might as well try to force some normalcy back."

"Heading to Polly's?" she asked wistfully.

"No, actually I was planning to get the guitar today. It was something that I promised you I would get."

"Really? Today? Could I come with you?" she questioned nervously.

He wanted to say no. His pride said he should. It was insisting that he say no just to spite her.

"If you want. I can swing by and pick you up. Are you going to be here?" he asked.

"I promise," she replied solemnly.

He looked at her trying to see the pulse throb against the skin of her neck. He was trying to read the telltale signs of a lie on her flesh. He found none, just a fervent need to be believed.

"I'll be here then."

Dana was waiting for him in the driveway as he pulled up. She was almost in the car before it came to a complete stop. Her seatbelt was clicked and her fingers were curled into the seat. She had settled herself as firmly as she could. It was as if she was expecting that he would either squeal away without her, or toss her out of the moving car.

She looked at him and said, "I'm ready."

"I can see that," he returned softly.

She flushed a little pink. It was either from embarrassment or maybe, just maybe, she was pleased that Ray would try teasing her a little.

"Where are we going?" she asked after a while.

"To an old music shop I know."

"But this is the way to the zoo."

"Almost. The shop is in my old neighborhood."

"Is it still there?" Dana queried.

"Yep. I called to check. It's still there. I wanted to see if they had a guitar I would like. I want a cheap one until I decide if I want to continue."

"Will there be cheap ones there?"

"Yes there should be. In that neighborhood it is very common to trade in your dreams for something to eat. So there will probably be a large collection of second-hand guitars," Ray stated.

The houses went from nice to not so nice very quickly. The fancy eateries and trendy stores made way to the struggling boutiques and the corner marts that sold booze to anyone for a twenty note. Then from there, the boutiques disappeared, and every other building seemed condemned.

"There are a lot of abandoned buildings here," Dana commented.

"They may be condemned but chances are they are still being lived in."

"What?"

"Homeless people. Drug users, gangsters, runaways. Some or all of them are probably living in those houses."

"People live like that? That is so sad."

"Yeah it is."

The store that they came to was in sad shape. Ray didn't remember it ever looking this bad. Either his memories were kind, or the years were not.

He walked in after holding the door open. There was no one else in the place. It smelled just like he remembered. The store smelled like an old library. It was musty and dusty. It smelled of history.

Ray and Dana took a minute to look around. They watched the guitars hanging from one wall. Then looked over and saw the brass instruments handing from another wall. Tenor and alto saxophones placed next to a baritone. And even a tuba was there. Then there were quite a few trumpets and a couple trombones. There was another wall with numerous clarinets. They were adjacent to the handful of violins, violas and banjos. In the back of the store a couple drum sets were set up. There were also several keyboards. No grand pianos or even an upright.

The man that came out of the back as the bell over the door had chimed wore a familiar face. He was an old grizzled guy that looked like a slimmer Archie Bunker. Ray seemed to recall that he looked that way even a decade or so ago.

"What can I do for you folks?" the man asked.

"I am interested in a guitar," Ray replied.

"What kind? Electric, Bass?" the man asked.

"I am thinking of a medium entry acoustic electric."

"Any particular kind?"

"Do you have any Ovation's?" Ray asked

"We may have one or two. I'll warn you, they run a couple hundred bucks," the man said.

"That's fine," Dana interjected.

Ray shot her a look. It was more than he wanted to spend.

"I wanted you to get one, so I'll pay," she responded.

The man went and came back with the dark guitar with its sunburst finish. He handed it to Ray. Ray held it gently. He cradled it like a baby. He ran his fingers over the strings. The guitar hummed. He picked it up and held the neck loosely in his hand.

"Do you have a strap or someplace I can sit?" Ray asked.

The man gestured to a stool before saying, "It may be a little out of tune."

"That's okay."

Ray grabbed a cheap plastic pick and headed over to the stool. He let the muscle memory guide him. He sat and started strumming a little practice tune. It was lively piece that most novices could play. He led into a Beatles song closing his eyes as he savoured the sound. He forgot that Dana was there. This was for him. Not for anyone else but him. This was something that he needed to do for himself.

"You're very good," the man said, seeming reluctant to pass out a compliment for free.

"Yes he is," Dana answered for him.

"Well do you like it?" the store owner wanted to know.

"Very much. But it is a little more..." Ray tried to say.

"We'll take it," Dana said firmly.

She opened her purse and brought out the cash.

"Do you want a case or a gig bag for it?" the man asked.

"We'll take the case," she replied.

She paid the man, hefted the filled guitar case over to Ray, and presented it to him.

"Thank you," was all he said. He was almost afraid to take it. It was too fragile a thing for him to hold. It seemed to represent so much.

As they started the drive back Ray turned to her and asked, "Are you insane having that much cash in this neighborhood?"

"I didn't know where we were heading. Plus I don't have much cash left."

They were quiet for a minute before Dana said, "I hope you know that I am not trying to buy you. I am not trying to buy your affections, or buy my way back into your good graces."