#i say as i tap on my ipad in woe

[figrolls]

physically in england but mentally playing run 3 unblocked

[be-ready-when-i-say-go]

In Sorrow and In Joy- Part 2: Second Chances

Luke learns the hard way what it means to be a dad and how to keep his family safe and together. Dad!Luke with a South Asian Reader. This is a collaborative experience with A Family of Five.

CW: Over the course of this series, themes of racism and prejudice on the basis of religion are present. Please read or skip as necessary.

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Luke stares up at the brick building. He knows he should go in; he wants to go in. But his legs are terrified. Going in means admitting he has a problem. Going in means admitting his wife and child have left him. Going in means he can no longer bury himself in his woes, in alcohol, in chasing down his youth. Going in also means getting back his wife, no, technically ex-wife. Luke wants his ex-wife back. His wants his princess back. But he has to go in, he has to tell some stranger all his problems. He wants his family back. 

 Luke unbuckles himself, exhaling as he opens the car door. He can do this. He can walk into that office. He can walk through that door, tell the receptionist he has an appointment. He can do this. “Good afternoon, sir,” the receptionist greets. 

“Afternoon. I have an appointment at 2:30 with Dr. Johnson,” Luke says. “Hemmings, Luke Hemmings.”

The woman nods, clicking at her keyboard. She grabs an iPad. “Alright, we need you to fill out this questionnaire right quick. And once you finish that, he’ll be right with you.”

Luke nods, a small smile crossing his face. He takes the iPad and turns to the chairs. There are only two other people waiting. Luke settles against the back wall, towards the end of the row, right next to the stack of magazines. This corner feels safe, feels like no one is watching him. Though the receptionist is sitting directly across from him. But she’s busy filling, messing with paperwork. 

He fills out his name, states his reason for the visit and then starts answering the questions. His hands start to shake. On a scale, rate how much these are like you from Not at All, to Very Much Like Me. He’s praying alcohol doesn’t come up; he prays they don’t ask him about depression, anxiety. The first few questions are about anger, coping with it. Those aren’t too bad; those are easy to answer. Until he gets to I feel overwhelmed, or nervous, most days of the week. 

Luke sighs. He feels fucking overwhelmed right now. Very Much Like Me, he taps the corresponding box. He scrolls down. Shit, this is the stuff he was trying to hide. He could run; he would return the iPad and walk out the fucking door. He wouldn’t have to sit here, becoming a puddle of sweat. He grips the arm of the chair, forcing air out through his nostrils. Running is the exact behavior that landed him here. He always runs. There’s nowhere else to run. He can’t run to alcohol; he can’t run to parties. He can’t run to drugs. Escapism is the biggest lie. Luke is stronger than that. He has to be stronger than it, has to know the true demon that lurks beneath the veil. 

Finished with the questionnaire, Luke walks back to the window and hands the iPad over. “Dr. Johnson will be with you shortly,” she smiles at him. 

How the fuck can she smile like this, all the time, Luke wonders. Maybe it’s helpful for some. Maybe it makes them feel normal. Everyone knows what’s happening in that waiting room; everyone knows that some kind of invisible demon is haunting the people that sit in these chairs. Settling back into his seat, Luke picks at his nails. The gel polish is mostly gone. Occasionally he’ll pick too deep and nick his nail. This is nerve-wrecking. This is worse than when he stood outside the front door, knowing just on the other side there were going to be divorce papers. 

He overheard you once a couple months earlier on the phone. He knew his fate was sealed. He didn’t fight it. He should’ve. He should’ve raised hell. He should’ve promised then to get help. But Luke knew that promise was hollow, even though it never left his lips. That promise to you would’ve been so hollow it would’ve echoed in that bedroom. It would’ve shattered your heart, he’s sure. Because you would’ve sat there and watched him break that promise over and over and over. But he’d keep giving you hollow words. It’s a good thing you left him. He hates not waking up to your curls in his face. He hates eating the food he makes, he can’t every season it like you. He hates not hearing Zahra’s squeals. His apartment is so fucking quiet. 

He’s never home because of the silence. It is not home, honestly. It could never be a home without the two of you. “Mr. Hemmings,” a soft voice calls out. 

Luke looks up from god-awful navy blue and red dotted carpet to this voice. An elderly man stares back, a smile resting on his face. Luke grips the arms of the chair for maybe a second too long before pushing to his feet. “How are you?” Dr. Johnson asks as he approaches. 

Terrified, exhausted, angry, hurt. “Alright,” Luke answers. “You?”

“I’m good. Thanks for asking.” 

Luke follows behind the graying man, past offices with door shut. He can’t hear what’s happening behind them. But he has an idea. In Dr. Johnson’s office, Luke settles into the couch, brown leather with a throw pillow in it. It’s low to the floor. Luke feels a tad more secure as his knees press damn near his chest. It’s like the fetal position, his body closing in on him. The leather jacket and leather seat are going to make for a hot combination, for the moment, Luke welcomes the uncomfortable heat. It reminds him that he’s here for a reason, that he’s got to fix himself--for his family, for his child, for himself. 

“So,” Dr. Johson says, after tapping away at the computer and pulling out a notebook. He settles into the other low seated chair across from Luke. “I read that your here to get help. Care to explain a bit more for me?”

Luke swallows, throat closing. He needs so much help, so much fucking help. “I need to get my family back,” he answers softly. “My wife left me, took our daughter too. She had every right to leave. I fucked up. I want them back.”

“Are you only getting better for them?”

Luke shakes his head, tears threatening to take over his vision. “I’m tired of running. I wanted to stop years ago. It just took losing everything for me to realize that.”

“Tell me what happened. What are you running from? What are you running to?”

The air is his lungs rushes out past his lips. He’s been running from so much. He’s been running to all the wrong things. “I love my family. But I had a kid before I was ready. I ran from that straight to the bottle. I haven’t had a drink in two weeks, but I know I could easily slip. I don’t want to slip again.”

Dr. Johnson nods, scratching something down on the legal pad. “Well, I’m proud of you getting that far. If you’re serious about help, I can help you. You’re on the right track, taking the right steps.”

__ Zahra runs to the door, after hearing the doorbell ring. It’s Friday night, she knows it’s Luke coming over for dinner. You slide the pan out of the oven, shouting. “Ra, wait!��� For the past three and a half months, Luke comes over for family dinners. You didn’t want to completely rip Zahra away from Luke. That was her father, she needed him. He needed Zahra too. It keeps him sane, the highlight of his week is coming over for dinner. She gushes about what’s happening at daycare; her friends. She shows him all her latest drawings. After setting the pan onto the table, you walk over to the door where Ra bounces in joy. Luke stands on the other side of the door, you gather from the glance into through the peephole. 

Opening the door, Ra runs to her dad, “Daddy!”

He laughs, showing one hand to her. “Hey, baby girl.” No matter how many times you open that door for Luke, the reunion always makes your heart swell, your eyes a tad watery. Does Zahra hate you for doing this? For putting the three of you into separate houses? You hope she doesn’t. You pray the weekly visits help. 

Luke looks up from his squat, unveiling a small bag to you. “It’s for Zahra, but I don’t want to forget to give it,” he says. 

With a nod, you take it and he collects the little girl into his free arms, walking into your place. This feels like home to him. It’s not the old house, you didn’t want it and neither did he. He’s not sure who the new owners are, he doesn’t care. The only thing he knew was that too many ghosts lived in that house for him, too many nights of him staying downstairs, stumbling over himself, cursing himself for being too loud. You couldn’t bare to waking up in such a huge bed without his soft snores. You didn’t want to eat breakfast at the same counter you handed divorce papers over. 

Zahra clings to her father, face buried in his pale neck. He still smells the same, she thinks. This is still her dad, though he’s not in the same home as her. Though the only person when the nightmares scare her is her mother. “Can you stay the night, Daddy?” she whispers. “I miss you.”

The bag falls into the couch cushion from your fingers. You knew she missed him. You knew she knew how empty the place was without him. She had just never said that to you. She had never uttered the words to express how much she felt her father’s absence. “Oh,” Luke starts, turning to you. The door closes with a soft thud. “Uh,” he’s waiting for you to jump in. He’d love to stay, but this is your house. These are your rules. He can’t make that call. 

Heart thundering in your chest, you tuck some hair behind your ear quickly. Luke knows that tick--a nervous twitch, one full of panic. “What are you doing over the weekend?” you ask. 

Luke freezes, he wasn’t moving before. But now his muscles seize up on him. Most weekends he goes to the pier, watches the wave. The beach has become a solace for him now. He goes there, goes to the studio to write, then goes home. His life is slowly coming together; he’s learning how to be by himself. “Nothing,” he finally answers. 

“Take her for the weekend. She has Brittany’s birthday party at 2 tomorrow, at their house. But that’s it.”

“I’m not--,” he starts. You shake your head, waving a hand to dismiss his statement. He’s taken her the day, on small trips to just hang out. The courts have left that up to your discretion. But overnight, weekends, Luke gave up. He wanted to get his head on straight before taking those rights. He has to check in at 6 months into therapy before the courts will rule on whether he can have weekends. 

 “I know you have another two and a half months before evaluation, I don’t care. Take her for the weekend.” 

He’s laid in bed at night, wishing to take her home with him, staying up until she passes out underneath blanket forts, having her on his shoulders as they walk around the zoo, helping her with whatever work she was learning at the time. He misses those soft moments with her. He needs those moments back. That’s the whole reason he doesn’t keep a bottle in his house, why he doesn’t stay out long with the boys. Because the later the night goes, the more tempted he is to just have one drink. One of the boys always sees him out, he calls Ashton usually, when he gets home. It’s a system--it works. He’s thankful for it. 

“Are you serious, Mommy?” Zahra questions. 

You nod, looking over to it. She’s not a spitting image of you, some features taking more after Luke, but brown chubby cheeks are lifted in a smile like yours. “I’m serious, sweetie.”

“I don’t wanna go to Brittany’s party,” she says. 

“We already got her a gift and said we were going. You have to go.”

“But I don’t want to be away from Daddy.”

“I’ll be there, sweetheart. The entire time,” Luke interjects. He doesn’t want to be away from his princess either. 

During dinner, Zahra and Luke plan what other activities they can do over the two days--the movies they can watch, if they should go to the bookstore to find the new book she wants or if ice cream is a better idea. Zahra suggests both, Luke reaches over, running his fingers through her hair and agrees. 

Zahra drags Luke behind her, to help her pack her bag for the adventure to his house. Luke finds her bag. “Two outfits,” he directs, opening the dresser to pull out socks and underwear. He hasn’t stocked his place with clothes just yet. She has a few things, mainly just in case she has an accident. Her room was already fully decorated. The first room he completed, it was way too early. But he wanted to make sure that was perfect for her, that she knew she was loved and welcomed by him still. 

Zahra hands Luke her choice clothes and he slides them into the bag. She grabs her favorite stuffed teddy bear, survey her room. “Shoes, baby girl. Which ones?” he asks, looking at the collection her closet. 

With a nod, she walks over and picks out a pair, glittery and blue. Satisfied that everything is packed, they walk back up front. She give you a hug. “Love you,” she whispers. 

“Love you too. Be good for Daddy.”

She nods, smiling. “Of course.”

Luke stands near the door, the pink backpack on his shoulders. “Thank you,” he says. You don’t have to do this. Both of you know you can’t ever mention this, know you’ll have to bribe Zahra to keep quiet about this. But his chest is full again. 

“No need to thank me. She’s your kid too.”

It’s only after they have left do you realize that the bag for Zahra is still on the couch. You don’t dare peek inside. Instead you put it on her bed for when she returns. Being with her father is a much better gift anyhow. 

__ As you’re picking Zahra up after your last lecture of the day, your phone rings. You don’t answer, don’t even look to see who it is. Until you get home. There’s a voicemail from Luke. You listen to it, pulling your bag from the front seat. “I know you’re probably driving right now. But I was wondering if I could get Ra tomorrow, just for the day. There’s a festival in town--we’re not playing. Some friends are, just wanted to take her with me if that’s okay. Talk to you soon.”

Zahra watches you from the front seat, shocked at your long silence. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah, yeah. Dad’s coming to get you tomorrow for the day,” you smile back at her.  She cheers in her carseat, the rest of her evening made. You call him back, agreeing to let her go for the day. One day out of daycare is not going to hurt her. While Zahra floats on cloud nine, you are a nervous wreck. Luke’s pulling himself together. Only two more weeks until his first eval and your gut tells you, he’s going to do well with no problem. 

You watch him at family dinners, the way he’s never overstepping, but firm. He always has to warn about the veggies, she’s a bit of stubborn about them. You listen to the way she talks about her days with him, the way she talks about just laying on the couch with him, watching movies, the way he listens to her days, the way they color together. She gets huffy when he reminds her of manners, and patience, almost as if she’s not quite realized that Luke will always discipline her about those things no matter what. He’s still her parent, even if he’s not there 24/7. 

Getting Zahra ready is tough. She bounces all over the place, excited to get some time with her dad. It makes you happy, but when Luke knocks to pick her up, she’s still not dressed. Which is not ideal. You open the door, letting Luke in. He’s in white button up, though some of the button’s aren’t done, skinny jeans and a leather jacket. Suddenly the urge to kiss him hits you, but you swallow it back down. This isn’t his normal attire for coming over. You never lost attraction to him, but this look surely makes it a bonfire instead of a burning candle. 

Even with the mild distraction, you’re able to focus on the tasks at hand. “She’s being a bit rambunctious today. She’s dressed, just needs to finish eating and brush her teeth.”

Luke nods, with a smile. His face is fuller now too. On his walk over to the dining room table, his fingers brush over yours. Zahra rushes down the rest of her meal, wanting to head out as soon as possible. You collect the bowl, rinsing out in the Luke. 

“Brush your teeth. I’m timing for the whole two minutes,” he says to Zahra. She groans but runs to the bathroom. 

You can feel Luke’s gaze burning holes in the back of your head. What does he want? His presence closes in on you, the warmth from his scolding your back almost. “I know I really fucked up,” he starts. 

Do not turn around, you warn yourself. “You’re human.”

“No, but I really fucked up. I ran from my responsibility when I shouldn’t have. I made you effectively a mother of two, trying to baby me and raise an actual baby. I can’t promise I won’t stumble, that I won’t make other mistakes. I just need you to know that you handing me those divorce papers was the wake up call I needed. I’m sorry for making you got through that. I’m sorry for acting like a child instead of speaking up.”

His hand wraps gently around your wrist, warm and firm. Pulling you from the counter, he turns you, blue eyes meeting brown. You swear for a second the air leaves your chest. His remorse swims behind his eyes. “I’m asking this kind of early, I know. I’m not hundred percent okay. I’m not ready to jump back into the deep end. But I just need to know, do you really believe in second chances? Would you really take me back?”

You nearly went to the ends of the earth for this man. You ran yourself crazy, but you love him. You love him. Luke takes your silence for a moment, but panic hits him in his chest. “I love you, I never stopped loving you.” His hand cups your cheek. The feeling of him against your skin makes your toes curl. 

“I believe in second chances,”  you sigh, eyes fluttering close. “I’m not a liar. I will take you back.”

His body exhales, Luke closes his eyes for a moment, head dropping towards yours. Foreheads resting against each other, you can’t help but inhale his cologne. He feels all too familiar as you step into him, gently resting a hand against his hip. “Can I kiss you?” he breathes, the smell of mint falling into your nostrils. 

You should say no, but your body aches for him. “Yes.”

His lips find yours, softly pressing together. Someone swallows the other’s sigh of relief. One hand curls around his elbow, the other digging into the fabric of his jeans. Luke pulls away, only a tad hovering right above your lips. It would be so easy to kiss him again. He pulls back again, heart racing in his chest. He wonders if it will burst. 

“Are you and Mommy getting back together?” Zahra asks. The two of you clear your throat, smoothing clothes. 

He leans against the fridge, biting on his lip. He wants too, just not right now. He’s not in the right headspace fully, there’s still so much work for him to do on himself. Luke glances over to you. The shrug pulls your shoulders up for a moment before releasing it. He bends down. “Give Daddy some more time. I’m getting help and soon, maybe Mommy and I can talk about that. But I still love you, you know that right?”

The sparkle in Ra’s eyes dulls. She hates watching him leave. She wants him to stay. “I know,” she answers. She looks up at her father. He looks so much happier, so much better. She likes him like this. “Just keep getting better, Daddy, please?”

Wrapping her in a hug, Luke feels the tears running down his cheek. “I will, baby girl. Daddy promises to keep getting better.”