Robby and Ryan

Reflections. Ryan’s POV

Flash forward. Friday, March 3rd, 2017

I stood looking at myself in the mirror studying the lines around my eyes. How time has a cruel way of marking its passing. The room had a thick layer of steam partially obscuring my face in the reflection as I bent lower to see myself better.

I looked at my thinning hair; some now gray, and the white patch in my bangs that never went away after the last time. I stared at the lines on my forehead along with valleys where cheeks meet the nose. Fuckin time! I put both hands on the back of my head and pulled until all the lines on my face were gone. I liked what I saw but how fuckin vane, am I? 

I glanced at the two towels hanging next to me; RJ in the corners of opposing gray and black. I didn’t dry and put on my thick gray robe with the white R embroidered on the left side. I walked out and sat in the sitting room on the wing-backed chair to look at the pictures that surrounded me. Photos are snapshots in time and I’m so thankful for them most days.

My eyes found one from years ago; the one that hung in the lobby of the photographer’s studio who had taken it. I put my glasses on to see it better. I didn’t really need to because its image was etched into my brain, but I put my glasses on anyway.

I was pulled from my memory. “Grampy?”

I had forgotten about my son and his two boys who were spending the night; another fight with his wife. I looked into the blue-green eyes that studied mine and opened my arms as I took my glasses offsetting them aside. His ten-year-old frame now sat on my lap and I pulled him close.

“Why, the tears Grampy?” The sweet boy questioned as he wiped my cheeks then cuddled up on me. I couldn’t answer him. I didn’t even notice the tickle of the tears this time; the salty drops that slide down my face when no one is around. 

“Why are there so many pictures of you and him, Grampy?” my grandson asked. ‘There are a lot of pictures.’ How can I explain such a thing to a child? How could someone so young really understand something that’s so-fuckin complicated?

I started the story as I had tried so many times in the past. “When Grampy was young, before your daddy.” I stopped.

Where do I start this time I wondered? I focused on the picture; my chin resting on Robby’s shoulder. We were cheek to cheek with my arms around him from behind. And my hands rested on his chest; one on his heart. The picture we gave to mom. It was a great fuckin picture.

They say a picture speaks a thousand words. This one spoke volumes. We were so happy our dimples showed. Fuck; that was forty years ago. Fourteen thousand days have passed. That’s a long, long time.

“Robby, you’ve heard this all before,” I said, trying to avoid the elephant in the room again.

I felt his strong hands on my shoulders as my eldest son stood behind me. I looked at his reflection in the window. He was taller than me and had his mother’s eyes. It’s a green-hazel that changes depending on what’s around him. Travis James. ‘TJ.’ 

I had been so emotionally unavailable to him, both of my boys actually, and their mother. But they have never held it against me; just accepting that they got all that was left for me to give.

“No. Tell him, Dad.” He said softly. I was shocked by his words but wasn’t. He wanted to hear me explain ‘us’ to his boy. Explain why, I was, the way I was.

“That is Uncle Rob,” I started. “Yes, I think your dad named you after him,” I said smiling, answering his unasked question and paused.

“Dad” I felt the squeeze and he said from behind. “It’s ok, Dad, he’s ten. He will understand or he won’t.”

Could I tell him? Would he really understand? Would TJ have understood at ten? Would he understand today?

My eldest son is wise beyond his years even though he is the stoner. He was twenty-one when his mom died. He stood outside her hospital room when I finally let her go; heard what I selfishly asked before the solid tone of the heart monitor signaled her demise. Where do I start? He is thirty-three now.

My chest heaved. I struggled to hold back what ached to be shared. “Robby? You ask, ‘why the tears, Grampy?’ It’s because I miss him when he’s not with me, munchkin. My body hurts when I can’t touch him.” I paused again. Silent tears rolled down my cheeks at the honesty. I could feel them this time. I couldn’t help it. I felt the grip on my shoulders from behind again.

“Robby and Grampy were.” I took another deep breath. “Robby lived in this house with me when I; we made this our home for a long time. We were so happy.” Fuck!

“Give me your hand, Robby,” I asked as I rested it on my chest covering it with my own. “Can you feel how much Grampy loves you, child?” I asked.

“I can feel him, Grampy,” he said calmly, “He takes up so much room.” ‘What a statement.’ He fuckin floored me. And his Dad squeezed more on my shoulders and large tears continued to slide from my eyes at his revelation.

“There’s enough room in Grampy’s heart for all of us,” my wise child revealed to his son squeezing my shoulders again. 

“That was us, Robby. All the pictures you see. We were ‘The RJ Chancellor’s.” I said as I pulled his head next to mine. “He is still here with me.” And I just sat reflecting with my grandson.

“I feel both of you, Grampy.” He admitted. “Grampy?” he asked as he rested his head in my neck and started to cry. “Never forget how much he loves you, Grampy. You took up his whole heart, there wasn’t room for anything else but you,” that ten-year-old said in my ear. And my son squeezed again. A cascade of tears now fell from our eyes; my Grandson, my Son, and me.

“Come with us this time, Dad.” He asked from behind, pulling me from my thoughts. “There’s time. We don’t leave for three weeks.” He reminded me.

After Robin died I sent both boys to ‘The Willows.’ I have never told them that it’s theirs. They will find out someday. They have gone on April 1st, every year.

“Yes, Grampy,” the child confirmed. “Come this time. We can carve our initials on the tree.”

“Our initials are there, Jr,” I told him.

If he only knew what he was asking? I thought about it. It’s been so long. I walked through my memory’s to stand on the deck; our home to the east, looking at Robby down at our tree. That’s as close as I can get anymore. I haven’t been back home since my son was a small boy.

We’ve never shared it together; Robin never even knew about ‘Willows.’ I only shared it with one person. I miss that place; but I miss that time in my life and what we shared, more.

Forty years is over two-thirds of my life. My eyes moved around the room and settled on a picture of Rob and Lady. My son remembered her. She’d retrieved a stick that Rob had thrown into the river and was sitting at his feet wanting him to throw it again. I shook my head ‘no.’

“Come on buddy. It’s time for bed,” my son said. Robby crawled from my lap and stood in front of me.

I leaned forward resting my forehead against his; both of us closing our eyes. He has always reminded me of Rob. He pulled my hand to his chest and said, “I love you, Grampy. Can you feel it?” I nodded yes. I could feel it and more tears fell

My eyes shot open as I saw myself as he did. It had been well over twenty years. It was only a split second but I saw what he saw; the colors around me. I moved both hands to each side of his head closing my eyes hoping to see it again. “What do you see, Robby? Don’t be afraid. Show Grampy,” I pleaded. 

“I see them around everyone, Grampy. You have lots of them.” And he rested his hands on each side of my head. “I’ve seen them for as long as I can remember. It’s not scary, Grampy,” he reassured me.

TJ and DJ never had it. They didn’t see or feel things. But TJ knew his oldest son had a gift. If you can call it that.

I knew what he was saying. “I only saw them around him.” I shared. “Trust what you see, little man. Now give your Grampy a kiss and dream of what makes you happy.” He kissed my forehead and I kissed Robs’ name-sake the same way.

Little RJ shared Robs’ first name, his dads and my middle name, and our last; another RJ Chancellor. He sees colors around people; most everyone, actually. I hope his journey started this time. It would pain me to think of him struggling with pasts.

The last time Rob came to me strung out I couldn’t stop myself. He was weak and I broke his trust. I needed to see what he had; probably why the color never came back in my hair. I had never seen him so mad at me as when he realized. To say we had been around; is an understatement. The memories hurt him so much and he never wanted me to feel that pain.

I always seemed to be the first to go. I’m ok with that. But to be the one left behind; the one with a hole in their life is the worst. Six times this had happened to him and each was compounded by the time before. Greif, times six. I never remembered as he did. But the memories I stole from him that night, and more lives in me still.

I sit alone now thinking how this moment wouldn’t have happened if life went as I had anticipated. I wouldn’t have my sons or grandchildren. I wouldn’t long for ‘The Willows.’ And I wouldn’t miss him as I do.

Life has a funny way of throwing you a curveball when you least expect it. Rob and I should be planning our trip back home and celebrating forty-two years together. Forty fuckin years! 

I closed my eyes to walk through my field again. I look out over my life and wonder how I got here. I don’t turn to see the bare field behind me; I know it’s there. I needn’t hold the wheat in my hand anymore; I can see the memories in the stalks before me.

My field is like a rainbow now; stalks of wheat that hold memories of him shine. In the distance are memories of my childhood and before, but they just frame what the field holds as a whole; memories of Robby. I can’t wait to see him again.

I sat at the piano playing softly. When will I see you again, I wondered? I had played this so many times. ‘The First Time Ever I saw Your Face.’ Why am I torturing myself? I sang as I had so…many times. Tears fell as they had since 1980.

I saw my son in the glass and I turned to him shaking my head ‘no’ with him blowing me a kiss as he turned and walked away. I looked at the black and white picture; two strong men; naked with their backs to the camera. We looked out over the small river; my arm around his waist, and his head on my shoulder. When will I see you again? “Please let it be soon.”

It’s funny how songs trigger memories. It’s like a smell that makes you think of or remember something. I sat playing and singing until the sun came up then made my son and his boys’ breakfast; Belgium Waffles with sausage.

TJ came up behind me. His arms wrapped over my shoulders. He was taller and can do that. “Who did you love more, Dad?” he asked. I pulled away to look at him. His question surprised me. Where did this come from? What was he asking?

I thought about it as I looked at him. “It’s a simple-fuckin-question Dad?” He reinforced so nonchalantly.

It kind of pissed me off. “Is it? Is it a simple-fuckin-question, Travis? Your wife and two boys are drowning; you can only save one. What do you do, T?” I asked.

It was mean and I could tell he never expected that. “Do you think it’s about love or the amount of love? He has been part of me almost three-quarters of my life. You don’t even understand what that means.” I finished kind of bitterly.

I watched so much shit roll across his face. And then he looked me in the eye. “What would you have done Dad? Me and DJ; Mom and Uncle Rob; we’re drowning: what would you have done.” He asked thinking he had me. He’d turned it around. 

I thought about what he asked so impatiently. It wasn’t a hard question to answer. So I told him, “I’d have drowned.” And I turned away from him. He pulled me back kissing the side of my head, told me he loved me and said goodbye.

I remembered almost forty years ago. I stood in the yard and saw Robby on the deck. Tears run down my face now and I shake my head. I see the blanket creases on his face and torso. I see the colors around him, so bright, as he looks at me.

I thought about it all again. What if just one thing had been off? Was this the master plan; really? Was this the fuckin master plan??? I poured some of the nectar in my hand and waited.

I closed my eyes as the buzzing started. They are so impatient. I felt them land on my hand and I opened my eyes to observe their wonder. I have been feeding the Humming-birds from my hand for months like I watched Rob do years ago.

There are occasions when I fill my navel just to watch them eat from the spot that connected me to my mother. ‘Be patent and you can do it too.’

The closet and drawers were full of our clothes so we rarely brought shit with us and would shop when we got here, just to leave most everything behind.

“She doesn’t like the stairs anymore, Ryan,” I heard him say as they walked in our room. “She wants me to build a fire,” he said, and I laughed.

“She told you that, did, she?” and he nodded.

I had changed into sleep pants, his were on the bed, and I went downstairs to the sitting room. I sat at the grand piano playing softly when the two of them came down.

They walked into the library and I heard him ask, “Pick one, my sweet. We’ve read that one, girl. Ok.” and then they walked in with, ‘Call of the Wild;’ Rob had an old comforter over his shoulder and we moved to the living room.

She curled up next to me and he got wood from the deck. In less than five minutes he had a nice blaze going resting next to her and had started to read aloud with the deck doors open.

I watched the fire as he read; Lady’s back pushed against me and her head in his lap. We both loved to listen to him read. He had the sweetest voice and the ability to draw you into the story with his inflection and feelings.

He had the book in one hand and the other stroked her front paws as he read to us. She licked his hand and he said, “It's ok, my sweet. You can sleep.” And he continued on.

I woke up and the fire only had red coals. The book rested on Robby’s sleeping chest; Lady, asleep between us. I remembered back more than a dozen years to 1980 and the accident. All the years seemed to roll into a single memory. We lay like this just four years ago. No Lady between us.

Rob was so fucked up and he fed off my strength, and I let him. This place was symbolic for us; not just our home but this spot; the fire and comforter, the sounds along with the smells, this feeling of peace and togetherness it offered.

I heard his breathing change and knew he was watching me. I didn’t turn to him for the longest time until I felt the back of his hand on my cheek.

“Ryan, look at me.” he requested. I turned to him and his hand cupped my cheek. As I pushed my face further into his hand he told me, “Lady says when the book ends, so will she,” and one tear slid down his cheek. I looked down and he had read over half the book; I nodded.

We slept on the floor that night and when we woke I was curled up on him with Lady in front of the fireplace. I always loved mornings like this.

For an hour we didn’t talk; my fingers were making designs on his chest and around those fuckin scars. And he was doing the same on my back. ‘The Willows’ was so many things to us.

This is where we truly fell in love; where I saw his colors for the first time. And this is where we kept coming back to, to gain strength. This was Lady’s first memory of us and we were allowing it to be her last.

Robby checked his sugars and we ate breakfast with Bruno on the deck as Lady sniffed around the whole yard. She was a beautiful dog. Her markings were perfect. The black and brown of her sizable body let you know she was a Rottweiler.

She had expressive brown eyebrows that did her talking for her. We never had her ears and tail done. It wasn’t natural and I never wanted to hurt her. We told Bruno it was her last day and he said he’d bury her with her brothers and sisters when the time came.

Rob and Lady walked back down to the tree with the book and comforter in hand. Bruno and I talked as we watched them. “He looks better than the last time, Ryan” he started, and I nodded. “What’s going on?” He asked. Bruno was in his sixties now and mostly gray. He had stayed alone the whole time. It was so sad.

I couldn’t answer him. I had no fucking idea what was going on. Being with Rob again was doing shit to me and it was like the last eight years were becoming a fading memory.

Bruno and I had talked most of the afternoon and I saw Robby close the book and he started stroking her front paws. I could feel his tears slid down my cheeks as Bruno looked at me.

“She’s gone,” I told him and he turned to look at Rob down at the tree.

“How do you know that, Ryan,” he asked.

“Robby’s finished the book.” And I stood.

Bruno followed me down to the tree and Robby was silently sobbing. Lady was gone and he shared the end with her so she could happily slip away. Robby slid out from under her walking up the river.

Bruno put his hand on my shoulder and said, “I’ll take care of her,” and he headed upriver after Rob.

I knelt and stroked her still warm body and said good-bye then walked back to the house. I stood at the bar admiring how well I’d stocked it over the years.

I picked up a twenty-one-year-old bottle of scotch, poured a shot holding it in my hand. I smelled it; it smelled so… fuckin good. I swirled it around in the glass admiring its rich amber color, then took it to the sink dumping it out. I washed the glass and returned it to the bar.

I was sitting at the piano when Robby came back in and sat next to me. “She loved listening to you play as much as she did me reading to her. You know; she didn’t need the pill. She picked her time.”

I nodded.

He rested his hand on my knee and asked if we could go to the cafe for dinner. When we got home I parked the Lincoln before we walked to the house hand in hand. It was all coming back. With us it was instinctual when our hands would find each other. It was natural.

We climbed the stairs, undressed, and then showered. He stood in the bathroom naked. I watched him check his sugars and take a small shot. I hated diabetes.

Reflections

Think about it!

In 1977; I knew this sixteen-year-old beauty that I had just met would grow to be my sole-mate. He would be the one to complete me. I had no idea what was about to happen. The chain of events that unfolded over the next eight years defined us. Personally, I see myself as a stone thrown into a lake.

Every ripple is a person I, we, touched somehow. My ripple goes out in all directions. Think about just one time when you made a difference. Think about how that ripple you made, multiplied.

“I’m sorry. I’ll move on.”

Again there was no need for sexual release, but the passion we shared that night was better than sex. When love like this is shared, the full body contact and warmth makes my heart swell.

We talked for hours but nothing was said about what happens when we get home. I would have done anything to start over, to have him in my life and next to me for the rest of our days.

When we woke in the morning Rob asked if we could stay in the city tonight; I knew he meant, DC. I nodded and headed to the phone.

We walked out of the house with nothing more than a bathroom bag. When I opened the garage door there sat the Lincoln and TR. The top was already down and Robby was sliding into the drivers’ seat.

We never left the house the last time we were here and he had lost the one I gave him to a tow company some years ago.

I watched him feel the steering wheel and gear shift. He ran his hand over the dash then sat with both hands on the steering wheel holding it like a long lost friend. And then he put on his glasses and started it up as I got in. I felt bad for him. I made a decision right then.

We cruised into the city in the car Rob learned how to drive a stick in and then to the Hilton. When I called I asked for room 1101. That was where we stayed back in seventy-seven and every time after that. It was a corner room that had the best view. I laughed when he threw the keys to the valet and said, “Keep it close.”

After checking in, we walked the block to the men’s store we always shopped in and wore what we bought when we left. I asked the nice girl at the front desk for a car and asked her to call Phil’s to check availability and she nodded.

The phone rang about 10 minutes later and Rob and I smiled at the front door seeing a newer and longer limo with a young man; much younger than us. He was in his early twenties and holding the door. Rob just sat next to me this time.

It was a Monday and the place was not nearly as busy as the weekends. We ate as we had years before at the same table we had shared more than once. The smorgasbord was as good tonight as it was a decade ago. When it came to bang for your buck, Phil’s was the place to go and their menu went on for days.

We spent two and a half hours enjoying each other’s company and then we called for the car. As we rode up the elevator Rob hugged me to his side. So many times we had done this and he asked if we could spend the day tomorrow.

Our bed had been turned down with chocolates placed on the pillows when we walked in. I smiled and told him, “I never took the lube out of the bag.” And he smiled back at me.

We both shucked our clothes and headed for the shower. We did as we had the night before last and washed each other. Rob held up the razor provided by the hotel and I smiled. “Would you like to do the honors, Ryan?” he asked. How fuckin hot is that?

Happy holidays to all.

RJC.