Title: "It Can't Shine All the Time"
Author: Mala
Fandom: OLTL/GH
Rating/Classification: PG-13, Rex/Adriana-ish, (Coleman/Skye & R/Lindsey implied) cross-over, mild language.
Disclaimer: Nope, not my characters!
Summary: Sometimes, you have no other choice but to deny yourself what you need.
"Hey, Adriana!" The boisterous greeting came from behind her and she whirled around, falling just a bit off balance.
"Rex! You again!" she laughed, as her purse slipped from her hands and hit the base of the serene angel statue.
"Me again?" he scoffed, reaching to rescue the fallen accessory from the tangled ivy and hand it back. "You're the one who keeps hanging out in the Square and dropping things!"
Despite herself, she blushed at the brief contact of their fingers. She had no idea why Rex Balsom was so nice to her, so cheerful...or why he unsettled her. All she knew was that, lately, he always seemed to be where she was. "It's a public place," she reminded, flustered.
"And so it is! Good thing we're the public!" He flopped down onto the stone border that was just wide enough to be used as seats, patting the empty space next to him. "Come on...stay a minute."
She shook her head, sheepishly, even as he waggled his dark eyebrows and made her giggle. "I...I really should get back home."
"Home?" he repeated. "That must be pretty new to you, huh? You lived in Puerto Rico until last year, didn't you?" he asked. After her nod, he simply steamrolled over the "yes", continuing, "Man, that's got to be strange. Llanview's pretty different. Pretty white," he said, chuckling. "No sense of rhythm."
He was impossible.
Exhaling wearily, she sat down next to him. "I...I grew up thinking the Colons were my parents." She shrugged. "And now... now I have a whole new family. One I'm still trying to get used to. Dorian won't even talk about my real father. He died earlier this year. I guess I'll never know that much about him. But still...this is home now. Yes."
"Trust me...knowing your real father isn't all it's cracked up to be." Rex shifted, leaning back on his hands and staring up at the clouded sky. "I thought mine was dead, too. Turns out, my old man owns a bar in New York. He was just passing through AC and passed through my mother while he was at it. Roxy didn't want me to know, but I found a picture at my aunt's place when I was fifteen. I look... I look more like him than I do her. Or the guy she was married to that she said was my pop."
"Have you met him?" Her questions were eager. She couldn't help herself. She would never know Manuel Santi... never know if she had his smile or they liked the same food. If he, too, lost things all over the house and all over town. "Are you alike?"
"I own a club, don't I?" He smiled, bitterly. "And last time I ran into him, we had the same hair style. But Coleman...he's not cut out to play Daddy. And I don't need one."
"Are you sure?" Adriana watched him...watched the way he kept his eyes safely averted. "I think...I think you might."
"I don't need anybody," he disagreed. "I've got myself. Roxy's got her ponies. And my sister Natalie has her own whole new family. She's got a mom and a dad and a sister and better brothers. You know what? That isn't all it's cracked up to be either."
When he finally looked at her, his eyes were dark, full of surprise. "I...I have no idea why I just told you all that."
"You don't?" She searched his face for confirmation. His features were harsh except for his soft, expressive mouth. It was almost an imbalance, the sharp slashes and the gentle curve...but together they made for an arresting whole. And, yes, he really had no clue where his confession had come from.
Purely on impulse, she reached over and took his hand. "Well...maybe it was your turn to drop something?" she teased.
He stared back at her for the longest time, without speaking. His palm was warm and dry, fingers curling around hers. This time, the contact didn't make her blush. "Yeah...maybe," he allowed, voice curiously hoarse.
Later, when she caught the bus and slid into her usual seat in the very back, she realized that she still didn't know why Rex Balsom was so nice to her, so cheerful...or why he unsettled her.
But she'd learned something else. Something that made no sense whatsoever.
She unsettled him, too.
The house lights were just low enough for him to see where the pint glasses and taps were but yet totally obscure most of the shady folks in the joint. Just the way he liked it.
The glow from the neon signs filtered down onto the bar and he figured if somebody wanted to read War & Peace, they were welcome to try. This wasn't a library, wasn't a fancy restaurant. People came here for one reason and one reason only: to escape.
Hell, that was why he was here.
Coleman sighed, kicking at the coolers and making a mental note to get the stupid glass washer fixed. When the phone rang, he yanked the receiver off the wall plate, barking, "Jake's!" in a way that meant 'if you're a telemarketer, screw off.'
"Um...Coleman?"
The voice on the other line wasn't some foreign chick from a call center in BFE. It was way too familiar...and not familiar enough.
"Rex!" He slumped back against the shelves, careful not to dislodge any of the tumblers. "Been a while. How you holdin' up?"
His son was quiet for a few seconds. That was never good. His son. His boy. His and Roxy's boy, he corrected. Meant he was a guaranteed mile-a- minute smooth talker with shit for brains.
"I'm okay. Could be better...but okay," Rex said, finally, and it sounded like he was shifting the phone around. Nervous. Also not good.
"What's on your mind? You never call me unless you want something." Of course, that was why everybody and anybody called him. He obviously needed a new line of work. Maybe as a Wal-Mart greeter?
"I don't want anything!" Rex assured, a little too loud. Like he was trying to convince himself. Strike three. The kid was in trouble and no amount of mood lighting was going to hide it. "I don't want anything from you...I never did."
"Okay. Got it. Nothin' wanted." Coleman sighed, sharply, brushing one palm over his face and debating slapping himself silly. "So, how 'bout them Phillies?" he asked, trying to be pleasant.
Wasn't that was fathers and sons talked about? Sports? He had no idea. What he knew about being a parent could fit on a matchbook cover.
"I'm a Pirates fan." Well, see...there was proof.
"Look, Son. I ain't got all night. I'm working." A glance around the bar revealed that nobody was breaking chairs over anyone's head, but, on the whole, he would rather break up a bar fight than have a stammering twenty minute conversation with his grown-up boy that led absolutely nowhere. "Is something wrong?"
They'd had That Conversation before. The one where Rex wanted to know why he hadn't stayed. Why he'd hightailed it outta Atlantic City at the first opportunity. Why he hadn't kept in touch. "Do I look like Dad material to you? Roxy and me were short-term. A couple of dumb kids. And she was married. It wasn't a good scene," he'd said. "I figured you were better off."
He couldn't possibly want to have it again, could he?
Coleman wasn't up for it. He'd never been up for it. Well...except for those few nights with Rox', of course. And Skye. He'd had a few damn fool fantasies of shacking up with that gorgeous babe and having little redheaded rugrats. For all the good they'd done. She'd blown him off and never looked back.
That was karma for you.
"Coleman..." After the longest stretch of silence so far, the words came in a rush. "How did you know...? How did you know when to stick around and when to let go and walk off?"
The tough question. He should've known.
"It all boils down to one thing, Rex. And you know what that is." He sighed, shifting the receiver to his other shoulder, moving back to the well and grabbing up a bottle of Beam for Eric, who was gesturing, wildly, for another shot. "You've got to be crazy in love. You've got to want to wake up with somebody and watch the sunrise and pay taxes and call it 'forever'. If you can't see that, then you got no business trying to raise kids or play house."
Eric downed his drink in two seconds flat and Rex laughed, quietly, on the other end of the line. Apparently, whatever he'd been hoping for, he'd found in that answer. "Watching the sun come up, huh?" he echoed.
"Don't knock it till you've tried it, Son." Coleman couldn't help grinning, wistfully. Skye's bright hair spreading across green felt. Best sunrise in the world.
He was here for one reason and one reason only.
Escape.
"So...how about them Pirates?"
It was still dark when he let himself out of the gallery. Not even the first bits of dawn tinted the sky. Lindsey was asleep...he'd left her curled around her pillow, dreaming whatever it was that she dreamed. Probably that she and Jen had never met him.
He wandered through Angel Square, hands in his pockets.
He'd run into Adriana here. He'd watched her blush and laugh.
And he called Coleman after she caught the bus. For all the good it had done him. Seemed like his darling dad cared just as much now as he had way back when.
And now he was back. He always ended up back in the same place. No matter how hard he tried to keep moving forward.
The angel seemed to be staring down at him, that perpetually dopey look on its face. Like it was accusing him of something. Or maybe it just knew all and saw all. "Yeah, yeah," he muttered, kicking at the bricks, "I got you, okay? I'm slime. She's a nice kid and I'm running a game on her."
The angel didn't confirm or deny his confession. It just did what eye-less creepy angels did. It loomed. Cristian may have been Natalie's husband and her one true love, but the guy was obviously deranged beneath his gooey romantic exterior.
Rex sighed, rubbing his palm over his face, and reclaimed what he was coming to think of as "his" seat. For some reason, it was way more comfortable than Lindsey's bed.
Like so many other mornings, he stayed out to watch the sun rise. Streaks of orange and red and pink running together.
It all boiled down to one thing.
The only person he could afford to be crazy in love with...was himself.
--end—
June 25, 2004.