"As Fate Would Have It": Chapter 13

The odds are ten to none

And still, whatever may be … When all is said and done

= Thursday 09 March 2000 =

Isaac wandered into the hall. "Mom? Can I talk to you for a minute?"

"Out here," she called from the lounge. "What’s on your mind?" she inquired as he joined her on the couch.

"This whole-family-night-out tonight. Is there any way I could stay here? Someone has to watch Zoë," he volunteered himself, hopefully.

"Laurel already agreed to watch her. You know that. Now what’s up? I know it’s not your family. Tell me what’s bothering you, Hon."

"I just don’t feel like going out tonight, that’s all."

"Uh-huh," Diana nodded, "and I would almost buy that. C’mon, what kind of fool do you take me for? I’m the mother of seven children; I know all your tricks and lines. Especially yours, because you’ve been using them all your life. Now what’s really eating at you?"

Isaac dropped his gaze and refused to meet his mother’s eyes. Every time she would try to get into his line of vision, he diverted his gaze elsewhere in the room. After a few moments, he resorted to simply staring at his hands, clasped in his lap. "I really just don’t feel like going out tonight. That’s all," he insisted once again.

At that moment, Zoë’s blonde curls and blue eyes peeked over the arm of the couch behind her brother. No one had heard her creep out of Diana and Walker’s room and toddle down the hall in search of her Mommy. When Diana noticed her presence, the child looked her in the eye and said, "La-La hurt. Hurt here." She patted her heart with a chubby hand.

"What are you doing up, Little One? You’re supposed to be taking a nap," her mother admonished as the child climbed onto the couch between them, then into her brother’s lap.

"La-La hurt. Ikey cry."

Diana turned her attention back to her son. "This is about Laurel? What’s wrong? Is she alright? What is she hurting from?"

"I don’t know, Mom," he moaned slouching back into the sofa. "She won’t tell me. Something has her deeply heartbroken, but she won’t say what. I want to help her, but she won’t let me in. And I…" He let the thought trail off, unfinished.

"You have feelings for her?"

The comforting, compassionate tone of his mother’s voice soothed him somewhat. But the tremor in his articulation was obvious as he whispered, "Mom, I — I think I love her. I know I love her. I love her."

"I can see that, Honey. But what are you going to do about it?" There was no condescension, only empathy, in the remark. She moved closer to her first- and last-born, sitting together, and brushed a flyaway strand of hair out of Isaac’s tearstained face.

"I don’t know. All I know is that it’s completely tearing me apart to see Laurel" —he choked on the name — "like this, and even more so that she won’t let me help her. It eats me alive every time I look at her, or try to touch her hand or her shoulder, and she freezes up. It’s like she’s terrified of me, but I don’t know why. And she won’t tell me why," the frustration came pouring out of his heart, and the tears began to fall. Zoë wrapped her arms around Isaac’s neck, and their mother embraced them both.

"I’m sorry, Son. I wish I knew what to tell you." Diana fell silent for a moment and held her children as Isaac’s grief continued to tear at her heartstrings. Softly, she began to sing: "O my darling, how I wish that I could guarantee / I will always be the things you want and need from me / But life is funny, honey, we both know that that’s a fact / And looking at it honestly I can imagine that…"

"I may get crazy – I might get weak / I will forget to think before I speak…" Isaac picked up the song and joined his mother. She let him continue alone on the next lines: "…But if you’re asking if this love will keep / I will not lie to you – I won’t deny the truth / The sky could fall on us / The sun could just combust / The earth could turn to dust / And still, whatever may be / When all is said and done / The odds are ten to none / The day will never come / When I don’t love you baby …"

He stopped abruptly and said, "Mom, I need to be saying these words to her. I’ll never forgive myself if I don’t. Please, I may not have another chance. I don’t want to blow this one," he pleaded with tear-filled eyes.

Finally, his mother conceded. "Alright, Son. I’ll let you stay here tonight. But don’t waste the time you’ve been given. You have to be fully honest with Laurel. Talk to her. It’s not like you to be afraid of someone, Isaac; this is a rare situation and it’s not likely to come around again. Take the opportunity while you have it."

Isaac was calm for a few moments, then panicked. "But I don’t want to scare her. What do I say to her, and how do I say it? I can’t do this!" Zoë squealed when he tightened his grip on her. He let her go, and began to wring his hands. "I can’t do this," he muttered.

"Can’t do what?" Mackenzie inquired, entering the room. He treaded cautiously; Ike still seemed mad at him from Monday night.

"Shh," his mother whispered. "Leave your brother alone when he’s upset."

"What can’t you do, Ike?" the little boy persisted. "You can do lots more than I can do — you can do anything."

"Not this time," came the despondent reply. "There’s no way I can tell Laurel how I feel without scaring her away for good. She’ll hate me if I tell her."

"Laurel’s nice. She talked to me and nothing I said bothers her. Why would she get mad or scared of you? You can be scary sometimes, but only when you yell." This innocent comment brought a smile to Isaac’s lips.

"It’s easy, Ike. Just talk. Laurel listens. She listened to me when nobody else would. She’ll listen to you too." The solution was so simple to Mackenzie’s six-year-old logic. But could reality truly be that simple? Isaac had more than his fair share of doubts. And they were written all over his face. This baffled his baby brother. How could Ike not see that the only person making this hard, was himself? The little boy hated to see his big brother upset when he didn’t have to be.

He decided to try one last idea. "Mom?" he asked, "How does that song that you like go?"

"Which one?" Diana tossed the question over her shoulder on her way to return Zoë to her crib. Not knowing his mother had left the room, Mac responded.

"The one that goes ‘Tell her about it / Tell her everything you feel…’" His rendition sounded nothing like Billy Joel's original, but it got his point across.

"Mac, I can’t. You don’t understand. I just can’t do it."

The child turned to face him. Looking him square in the eye with a forlorn expression, he said solemnly, "But you’re my hero, Ike. Not a superhero like Batman, but a regular hero like my big brother who isn’t scared of anyone or anything. ‘Specially not a girl. If you’re gonna be afraid of her, who will be my hero then? Tay’s too cranky and Zac won’t do it. You have to." This impending loss was very real to Mac.

The sight of his youngest brother so close to tears awakened something in Isaac; he gave serious consideration to the words that had been said to him. Sighing, he asked, "Do you really think she’ll listen and not run away again?"

"You won’t know if you don’t try. Won’t you at least try? If you talk, she’ll listen. Besides, if you lock the door, there will be only so many places she can run to, and then you get to chase her."

Isaac laughed. Not the in condescension, but in genuine amusement. He reached out and wrapped his arms around the boy in a bear hug. "Thank you, Mac."

"You’re welcome," he returned. "…Ike?"

"Yeah?"

"Could you let me go? I can’t breathe when you hold me so tight."

Isaac loosed his grip, and the two brothers laughed together. It felt so good to have the tension between them gone. Now if only it would be so easy to dispel the tension with Laurel…