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schmericaHey! Remember way back when, that thing I used to do, where sometimes I would, like, write stuff about fictional characters? And then post it to other people to read? That was fun, wasn't it? Maybe I should try that again!
Heh. This was written (after several aborted efforts) for![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
vecchiofest. ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
justbreathe80 made me sign up, so it's only fair she had to beta as well.
Already Confessed
by Pearl-o
Let's take a walk on the bridge
Right over this mess
Don't need to tell me a thing, baby
We've already confessed
And I raised my voice to the air
And we were blessed
It's hard to give and it's hard to get
Everybody needs a little forgiveness
--"Forgiveness," Patty Griffin
******
Ray was the one who came up with the plan. Irene was crying, again, and Ray held her and kissed her hair, but it wasn't enough.
Irene pulled away from him, sitting up. "We can't do this anymore," she said, her voice quiet but still set firm, like she wasn't going to argue about it.
It was dark in Irene's bed, all the curtains wrapped around tight, so it was just the two of them, just them, the whole rest of the world far away. Not far enough.
"We'll run away," Ray said. His voice cracked a little in the middle of it. "We'll go off together and get married and leave all of it behind, okay? I have some money saved up -- we can just leave one night, take the train somewhere far away--"
They arranged the meeting place, the date and time (midnight, on a Tuesday; they could put their bags there ahead of time so they could sneak out easier). It would all work out.
"You'll be there, right, Irene? You'll come?" Ray said softly, just before he climbed out her window.
Irene kissed him and said, "I'll try."
It was all Ray could think about, all week, during his night classes and his work and dinners at home. All he could think about was the two of them, and how great it was going to be. Right up until he got home on Tuesday evening.
Most days when he got home, supper was just about ready, the house was warm and smelled good and it was loud with all the voices of Maria and Frannie and Ma who never stopped talking. When he opened the door today it smelled like burning, and the kitchen was totally empty, with some sort of casserole abandoned on top of the stove.
He stood in a minute in the middle of the kitchen. It was quiet, and it was never quiet here. Something was going on, something had to be, something was wrong--
He ran up the stairs two at a time. There was noise coming from the girls' room, so he knocked on the door and then burst in without waiting for either of them to answer.
Frannie and Maria were curled up together on Maria's bed, on the far end of the room, arms wrapped around each other. Both of them were crying, looked like they had been for a while. Theye both looked up at him, and didn't say a word.
Ray felt the anger rising up all through him, and he almost didn't recognize his own voice. "What did he do to you? Where is he, in the basement?" His hands were already curling up into fists -- he'd never really hit Pop, not really, not done anything worse than learning how to duck, how to keep from taking a hit. But that was when Pop was focusing on Ray; he'd never done more than just scream at the girls, and if that was changing now -- Frannie was only twelve, for Christ's sake, Ray wasn't going to stand by and let that happen--
"There was an accident, Ray," Maria said. Frannie turned her head into Maria's shoulder, still sobbing. "Ma had to go -- she's identifying him. To make sure, I guess. I don't know."
And just like that, Ray was the man of the house.
Ray managed to get Maria to heat up some leftovers in the fridge, made the girls eat, brush their teeth, put on their nightgowns, go to bed. By the time Ma got back home, he felt ten years old. He hugged Ma as soon as she came in, and he could tell it was him comforting her, not her comforting him, not like when he was a kid.
He wasn't a kid anymore at all.
He didn't leave the house that night to go meet Irene. The next time he saw Irene was Sunday morning mass, every week. Across the aisle and ten rows up, and it might as well have been an ocean.
He didn't know if she had gone to the meeting, either, and he never got a chance to ask her, but he figured probably not.
*****
It was hot outside, but inside the church it was cool and dark as always. Ray stood by the priest, his best man Vinnie behind him, and watched the bridesmaids and ushers come down the aisle, arm in arm, all of Ray's sisters and Ange's brothers and a half-dozen of their cousins, all dressed the same, all looking serious, concentrating on doing everything just right. Then Connie, alone as the maid of honor -- and Christ, Ray usually couldn't stand her, couldn't spend more than a few minutes around her without wanting to shut her up, but even she looked beautiful right then, in the same pale blue bridesmaid's dress.
And then there was Ange, walking down the aisle on her father's arm, and Ray couldn't stop staring at her, feeling like his heart was going to beat right out of his chest.
He knelt with Ange on the cushions in front of the priest. The wedding ceremony felt endless; Ray knew he was supposed to be listening to the prayers and the readings, thinking about it all, all the stuff about how he and Ange weren't just getting married, they were uniting in the eyes of God, but he wasn't. He was waiting for his cue, practicing over in his head exactly what he had to say and when, just like they did it in the rehearsal.
Father Creel said the vows, and Ray said "I do", just like he was supposed to. The father blessed the ring, and Ray slipped it on Ange's finger and kissed her when the priest said to. The hardest part was over, then, and it was just more prayers, then taking communion, just like every week since he was seven. Another blessing, and then ... it was over.
Ray took a deep breath and looked over at Ange again as they walked out of the church. She was looking back at him, and her eyes were twinkling and she was smiling like she was trying not to laugh as the rice flew all around them. Once they were in the car, she gave that up all together, and let out a great belly laugh.
"Oh, lord," said Ange, pressing her hand against her front, "this dress isn't made for laughing in."
"Of course it's not," Ray said, "this is a solemn and sacred occasion! You're supposed to be taking this seriously."
Ange rolled her eyes at him, and Ray reached out to grab her hand and squeeze it.
"Hey, hey. We got through that. We did it."
"Not so fast," Ange said. "We still have the reception to face."
Ray made a face. "Can't we just skip ahead to the honeymoon?"
Ange patted his cheek softly. "In your dreams, Ray."
And Ray was going to respond to that, say something else, but the car came to a stop, and Ray could see the reception hall through the tinted windows.
"Ready?" said Ange.
"I'm always ready," Ray said.
******
It was a spur of the moment thing, no planning involved. One morning he and Stella were lying in bed, enjoying the comfort of their hotel suite even more than the brilliant Florida sunshine outside. They were both naked, snuggled together, and Ray felt happy like he hadn't felt since even before he went off to Las Vegas. Maybe ever.
"Baby," he said, kissing the top of Stella's head, "let's get married."
Stella went still in his arms, but Ray waited through it, and after a few seconds she relaxed again. "All right," she said. "But only if we can elope."
There was a three day waiting period for the license, which came two days before their vacation was over. Ray wore his best gray suit and Stella wore a killer red dress and they went to the nearest justice of the peace. It was over in ten minutes, and they went straight back to the hotel and made love until they were both exhausted.
They ordered room service and fed each other forkfuls of food and sips of champagne. Ray teased her by calling her "Mrs. Vecchio" and Stella smacked him on the shoulder every time.
"We can have a party when we get back to Chicago, if you want," Stella said, when they were sitting in bed again, sprawled out on the messy sheets. "For your family."
"You wanna dance with me in front of a couple dozen crazy Italians?" Ray said, making a joke out of it.
Stella rolled onto her back, shrugging one elegant bare shoulder. "I'm willing to make the sacrifice." She smiled lightly up at him. "You gotta do what you gotta do."
Ray picked up her left hand and kissed her finger, each in turn, stopping where the ring wrapped around her skin. Then he let her hand fall down to the bed and he lay down and kissed her again.
Heh. This was written (after several aborted efforts) for
vecchiofest. justbreathe80 made me sign up, so it's only fair she had to beta as well.Already Confessed
by Pearl-o
Let's take a walk on the bridge
Right over this mess
Don't need to tell me a thing, baby
We've already confessed
And I raised my voice to the air
And we were blessed
It's hard to give and it's hard to get
Everybody needs a little forgiveness
--"Forgiveness," Patty Griffin
******
Ray was the one who came up with the plan. Irene was crying, again, and Ray held her and kissed her hair, but it wasn't enough.
Irene pulled away from him, sitting up. "We can't do this anymore," she said, her voice quiet but still set firm, like she wasn't going to argue about it.
It was dark in Irene's bed, all the curtains wrapped around tight, so it was just the two of them, just them, the whole rest of the world far away. Not far enough.
"We'll run away," Ray said. His voice cracked a little in the middle of it. "We'll go off together and get married and leave all of it behind, okay? I have some money saved up -- we can just leave one night, take the train somewhere far away--"
They arranged the meeting place, the date and time (midnight, on a Tuesday; they could put their bags there ahead of time so they could sneak out easier). It would all work out.
"You'll be there, right, Irene? You'll come?" Ray said softly, just before he climbed out her window.
Irene kissed him and said, "I'll try."
It was all Ray could think about, all week, during his night classes and his work and dinners at home. All he could think about was the two of them, and how great it was going to be. Right up until he got home on Tuesday evening.
Most days when he got home, supper was just about ready, the house was warm and smelled good and it was loud with all the voices of Maria and Frannie and Ma who never stopped talking. When he opened the door today it smelled like burning, and the kitchen was totally empty, with some sort of casserole abandoned on top of the stove.
He stood in a minute in the middle of the kitchen. It was quiet, and it was never quiet here. Something was going on, something had to be, something was wrong--
He ran up the stairs two at a time. There was noise coming from the girls' room, so he knocked on the door and then burst in without waiting for either of them to answer.
Frannie and Maria were curled up together on Maria's bed, on the far end of the room, arms wrapped around each other. Both of them were crying, looked like they had been for a while. Theye both looked up at him, and didn't say a word.
Ray felt the anger rising up all through him, and he almost didn't recognize his own voice. "What did he do to you? Where is he, in the basement?" His hands were already curling up into fists -- he'd never really hit Pop, not really, not done anything worse than learning how to duck, how to keep from taking a hit. But that was when Pop was focusing on Ray; he'd never done more than just scream at the girls, and if that was changing now -- Frannie was only twelve, for Christ's sake, Ray wasn't going to stand by and let that happen--
"There was an accident, Ray," Maria said. Frannie turned her head into Maria's shoulder, still sobbing. "Ma had to go -- she's identifying him. To make sure, I guess. I don't know."
And just like that, Ray was the man of the house.
Ray managed to get Maria to heat up some leftovers in the fridge, made the girls eat, brush their teeth, put on their nightgowns, go to bed. By the time Ma got back home, he felt ten years old. He hugged Ma as soon as she came in, and he could tell it was him comforting her, not her comforting him, not like when he was a kid.
He wasn't a kid anymore at all.
He didn't leave the house that night to go meet Irene. The next time he saw Irene was Sunday morning mass, every week. Across the aisle and ten rows up, and it might as well have been an ocean.
He didn't know if she had gone to the meeting, either, and he never got a chance to ask her, but he figured probably not.
*****
It was hot outside, but inside the church it was cool and dark as always. Ray stood by the priest, his best man Vinnie behind him, and watched the bridesmaids and ushers come down the aisle, arm in arm, all of Ray's sisters and Ange's brothers and a half-dozen of their cousins, all dressed the same, all looking serious, concentrating on doing everything just right. Then Connie, alone as the maid of honor -- and Christ, Ray usually couldn't stand her, couldn't spend more than a few minutes around her without wanting to shut her up, but even she looked beautiful right then, in the same pale blue bridesmaid's dress.
And then there was Ange, walking down the aisle on her father's arm, and Ray couldn't stop staring at her, feeling like his heart was going to beat right out of his chest.
He knelt with Ange on the cushions in front of the priest. The wedding ceremony felt endless; Ray knew he was supposed to be listening to the prayers and the readings, thinking about it all, all the stuff about how he and Ange weren't just getting married, they were uniting in the eyes of God, but he wasn't. He was waiting for his cue, practicing over in his head exactly what he had to say and when, just like they did it in the rehearsal.
Father Creel said the vows, and Ray said "I do", just like he was supposed to. The father blessed the ring, and Ray slipped it on Ange's finger and kissed her when the priest said to. The hardest part was over, then, and it was just more prayers, then taking communion, just like every week since he was seven. Another blessing, and then ... it was over.
Ray took a deep breath and looked over at Ange again as they walked out of the church. She was looking back at him, and her eyes were twinkling and she was smiling like she was trying not to laugh as the rice flew all around them. Once they were in the car, she gave that up all together, and let out a great belly laugh.
"Oh, lord," said Ange, pressing her hand against her front, "this dress isn't made for laughing in."
"Of course it's not," Ray said, "this is a solemn and sacred occasion! You're supposed to be taking this seriously."
Ange rolled her eyes at him, and Ray reached out to grab her hand and squeeze it.
"Hey, hey. We got through that. We did it."
"Not so fast," Ange said. "We still have the reception to face."
Ray made a face. "Can't we just skip ahead to the honeymoon?"
Ange patted his cheek softly. "In your dreams, Ray."
And Ray was going to respond to that, say something else, but the car came to a stop, and Ray could see the reception hall through the tinted windows.
"Ready?" said Ange.
"I'm always ready," Ray said.
******
It was a spur of the moment thing, no planning involved. One morning he and Stella were lying in bed, enjoying the comfort of their hotel suite even more than the brilliant Florida sunshine outside. They were both naked, snuggled together, and Ray felt happy like he hadn't felt since even before he went off to Las Vegas. Maybe ever.
"Baby," he said, kissing the top of Stella's head, "let's get married."
Stella went still in his arms, but Ray waited through it, and after a few seconds she relaxed again. "All right," she said. "But only if we can elope."
There was a three day waiting period for the license, which came two days before their vacation was over. Ray wore his best gray suit and Stella wore a killer red dress and they went to the nearest justice of the peace. It was over in ten minutes, and they went straight back to the hotel and made love until they were both exhausted.
They ordered room service and fed each other forkfuls of food and sips of champagne. Ray teased her by calling her "Mrs. Vecchio" and Stella smacked him on the shoulder every time.
"We can have a party when we get back to Chicago, if you want," Stella said, when they were sitting in bed again, sprawled out on the messy sheets. "For your family."
"You wanna dance with me in front of a couple dozen crazy Italians?" Ray said, making a joke out of it.
Stella rolled onto her back, shrugging one elegant bare shoulder. "I'm willing to make the sacrifice." She smiled lightly up at him. "You gotta do what you gotta do."
Ray picked up her left hand and kissed her finger, each in turn, stopping where the ring wrapped around her skin. Then he let her hand fall down to the bed and he lay down and kissed her again.
Tags:
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(no subject)
21/11/06 12:49 (UTC)(no subject)
21/11/06 16:28 (UTC)(no subject)
21/11/06 17:26 (UTC)(no subject)
21/11/06 18:54 (UTC)And just like that, Ray was the man of the house.
Ray managed to get Maria to heat up some leftovers in the fridge, made the girls eat, brush their teeth, put on their nightgowns, go to bed. By the time Ma got back home, he felt ten years old. He hugged Ma as soon as she came in, and he could tell it was him comforting her, not her comforting him, not like when he was a kid.
just broke my heart to pieces and made me so PROUD of him.
I love this, darling! Ray! All growing up and being straight (o.O) and just - *squishes him*
(no subject)
21/11/06 20:22 (UTC)This is gorgeous.....I especially love the first one, but all of them, really. I love seeing him progressing through his relationships, becoming the Ray we know and love. ^_^
(no subject)
21/11/06 23:39 (UTC)I love the structure of this: Ray wanting what he's not supposed to have, Ray doing what he's supposed to do, Ray finally doing what he wants.
I wonder if he thought that his father's death was his fault? Oh, Ray. I am glad you are happy at last!
(no subject)
22/11/06 05:24 (UTC)(no subject)
22/11/06 20:52 (UTC)(no subject)
23/11/06 07:33 (UTC)(no subject)
23/11/06 07:34 (UTC)(no subject)
23/11/06 07:34 (UTC)(no subject)
23/11/06 07:35 (UTC)I want to just hug Teenage Ray. All the time. Except when he's being a tough guy, because then I just want to watch.
(no subject)
23/11/06 07:36 (UTC)(no subject)
23/11/06 07:37 (UTC)(no subject)
23/11/06 07:38 (UTC)(no subject)
23/11/06 07:38 (UTC)well, dang
23/11/06 08:24 (UTC)This was... so Ray.
Re: well, dang
25/11/06 02:51 (UTC)(no subject)
27/11/06 19:51 (UTC)(no subject)
3/12/06 09:47 (UTC)(no subject)
14/12/06 04:48 (UTC)(no subject)
14/12/06 04:49 (UTC)