Forty Or So Nights Like This

And in the end, despite it all, it would always be them against the world.

There weren’t enough paved miles in the world to create a distance between them they wouldn’t overcome.

So they lay there, together - hands intertwined, making shadow puppets on the ceiling the way her Grandad used to do when her mom would leave her dad… again.

“This one is a bunny.”

“Is it from Three Mile Island?”

They chuckled, Rob nuzzling his nose into her neck. She hated the feeling of hot breath on her, but she let him have this one.

“Yeah, he is,” Rob laughed absentmindedly.

She took the red plastic flashlight, the one her Grandad promised her would always light her path, and made the image of a dog on the ceiling.

“It’s Cooley.”

Why can’t they just stay here forever? Rob thinks to himself.

“It’s not fair,” Rob lets out.

“What’s that, babe?”

She is still enjoying her perfect rendition of Cooley on the ceiling.

“I have to leave you. This. Us… to go fight two harebrained limp dicks on a stack of pallets,” he trails off into a pregnant pause before spitting out, “Maybe you were right, you know?”

The air changes in the room. Charlotte feels the tension, but she doesn’t push. She’s led this horse to water a million times. Instead, she plays dumb, “About what?”

“Before I got the call to come back up to the big leagues. That night in the trailer, when you were stitching me up… what was it you said? Paint houses. Flip burgers. Anything but this.”

He’s always doubted himself. This is different, though.

This isn’t “I’m not good enough” or “I don’t deserve this”.

So what is it?

After thoughtful consideration, Charlotte asks, “Why now?”

Dancing gracefully through a minefield.

Cause I got all the money in the world and I know you’re fucking pregnant, babe. What the fuck else is there? 

But he can’t say that. Not yet.

“I don’t know. It’s just… this is nice. I wish I had more of this.”

“Mhm.”

“I don’t want to leave.”

“Right.”

“I could just… not.”

After all these years together, Charlotte knows Rob is like a dog. You have to let him chew on the bone a bit before taking it away.

The room is silent, but in the most comfortable way possible.

“Who else would you be?”

She always knows how to cut his knees out from under him in the most loving way possible.

“That’s fair.”

It’s seventy-five and breezy as Rob and John stroll through the crowded shopping plaza.

They’re both enjoying the perfect weather and an E.P. Carrillo Battleborn cigar.

“You only get so many days like this, you know?” Rob says to John.

John perks an eyebrow at his compadre.

“Are you smoking crack again?”

“No, man. I wish. No, I’m just… you know like life is fucked man. It’s really hard and I’m usually really sad. And that makes me fucking angry, cause I don’t want to be. But like every now and then it’s just perfect weather and you’re getting to smoke a cigar with your best friend on a Tuesday.”

“Uh huh,” John takes a draw of his cigar.

“At best a guy like me is going to live… what… sixty years?”

“Rob, you’re a fucking curse on this land. You’ll outlive the cockroaches.”

Rob slugs John on the shoulder playfully.

“Fuck you, man. I’m saying, either way, if we get sixty years - forty some odd as an adult - that means we only get forty or so nights like this. And I’m really glad to be spending it with your dumbass.”

“Yeah, I know what you mean.”

They watch a group of kids riding through the crowd on their skateboards. Probably off to smoke a joint in the woods below the Applebees. That’s what they would’ve been doing, at least.

“So why the fuck did you bring me out here, bud?”

“I can’t just enjoy a little time with my friend?”

“You’re right, Rob. You never have an ulterior motive.”

Touche.

“I don’t know, man. I got this dumbass pallet match with the Lasagna Boys. Char is pregnant, you know. I just am thinking about the future a lot. I don’t want to be picking splinters out of my ass in a decade.”

“So you’re not into ass play anymore?”

Rob’s face contorts with disgust and offense.

“Of course I’m still into ass play.”

They share a deep, hearty laugh.

“Ok so you’re thinking about the future. Why does that bring us here?”

“Well…”

Rob has been pushing John’s wheelchair along, but now he comes to a stop. The glowing lights of the “OPEN” sign cast a red glow down on the two men.

John’s cigar falls from his mouth as he realizes they’re standing in front of Icebox. He slaps at it, spreading ash everywhere.

“You’re fucking kidding me, right?”

“Nope.”

“Rob this is where rappers get their chains and teeth. What the hell is the plan here, man?”

“We’re ring shopping, John.”

Before John can protest, Rob wheels him in the door.

Over the next three hours, Rob and John are shown all types of diamonds and bling. Rings that Rob wouldn’t even be able to curl. Precious cuts, unique sizes… the lot.

The salesman plays Rob like a fiddle the entire time.

By the end of it, despite John’s growing annoyance, there are five gaudy, gigantic engagement rings set on the counter in front of them.

“There ain’t one of these you could bring old girl that she wouldn’t be dying to wear. This the type of shit most women dream of. And once you put one of these on her finger, she’s gonna know it’ll be knock off purses and cubic zirconia if she ever leaves your ass.”

The salesman and Rob laugh entirely too hard at that joke.

John doesn’t laugh.

At all.

“Hey, uh,” John pushes himself up in his wheelchair to look at the salesman’s nametag, “Cipriani. Listen, this is all great, but can you give me and my friend a moment please?”

Cipriani feels he’s losing his grasp.

“Sure, but I just had one more ring in the back I wa…”

“Thanks for understanding,” John cuts him off.

Rob purses his lips and gives the salesman a reassuring nod.

“Alright, I’ll be here if y’all need anything. Just holler.”

John waits until the man is out of earshot before putting on a very serious, but compassionate tone.

“Hey man, how much thought have you put into this?”

“Enough.”

“So let’s walk through the most recent thing you did that you put “enough” thought into. You talked shit, again, to the Lasagna Boys and made an off-hand joke about Pallet Scaffold Part Deux. And now?”

“Now I’m working both nights.”

“Right.”

John looks over the rings and back to Rob, who is beginning to slink down like a scolded child.

“Look, all I’m saying is… do you even know why you’re doing this?”

Of course not.

Rob Williams is the last person to know why he does the things he does.

Challenge the Lasagna Boys to a dangerous match because they said Chipotle clears when you’ve never even had Chipotle.

And guess what? It fucking clears.

Do it again a few weeks later on the eve of your biggest title defense yet.

Why?

Who the fuck knows?

John sees the gears turning in Rob’s head.

“What’s this really about, Rob?”

“I… I want to be the man I think I should be. Charlotte is pregnant, man. I’m going to be a dad… again. It’s time I make an honest woman out of her or whatever. Really give this thing a go.”

John rubs his temples and breathes in deep.

“Ok, that’s fair to think, Rob. But let me remind you that you’ve been here before with a kid on the way. What’s different this time?”

Immediately rage fills Rob. How could John not see how different he is? Everything is changing for the better - including him.

But, he knows John is right. He just needs to feel that fire a bit before accepting it.

And so they stand in awkward silence in the middle of a jewelry store that caters to rappers.

“I’m just scared, man.”

“Well fucking of course you are. But do you really think Charlotte wants,” vague gesture,” whatever the fuck those are?”

Rob shakes his head in defeat.

“No.”

“You want to be what your image of a good guy is, Rob? A good partner and good dad? Then fucking do it. Love her. Love the kid. Love on Finn. Show up to chop the wood and carry the water with them. That’s what they need. Not some gaudy ring.”

Of course it isn’t as easy as throwing your new windfall fortune at some ridiculous ring.

“I know. You’re right.”

“You really want to get her a gift to show her that you love her and you’re trying to change?”

Rob perks up, “Yes.”

“She’s sick of you burning the pizzas. Get her an air fryer.”

She sits alone in the low lamplight, hand on her belly.

Like a duck.

Calm on the surface, but those little legs are paddling so hard below.

The only sound in the apartment is the ticking of the grandfather clock Rob found outside someone’s house and Cooley snoring.

She has to do it. It’s time.

All of the courage and surety leaves her body when she hears the key sliding into the lock.

“Come on, you got this,” she tells herself.

“Honey, I’m home,” Rob calls out.

“I’m in here babe,” Charlotte manages to squeak.

Rob shambles in, stinking of cigars and bad decisions. But not the bad decisions of yesteryear like grain alcohol and dirty needles.

“Babe,” Charlotte pats the empty seat on the couch next to her,” come sit. I have to tell you something.”

“Hell yeah,” Rob falls face first into the couch, looking up at Charlotte with that dumb grin.

She raises one of her sweet, little hands to either side of his face, returning her own dumb grin.

“Babe,” a tear wells up in her eye, “I’m pregnant.”

It doesn’t feel like he thought it would. There is no weight suddenly lifted from his shoulders.

Quite the opposite.

All of his noodling on how this would go was about how he would feel. Not how terrified this beautiful creature who puts up with his shit must feel.

Not even about how to respond.

I know. I have known and I love you. I’ve loved you since the first time I met you, babe. 

Rob reaches down into the darkest, deepest parts of his soul to pull out:

“Ok.”

Fuck.

Fucking ok?

But she just smiles, holding his cheek.

Why?

Cause that stupid fucking grin never left his face.

She pulls him in close, planting a big kiss on his lips.

“You’re so stupid, Rob.”

“I know,” he admits. He’s not just admitting that he’s a fucking idiot - he’s admitting to knowing about the pregnancy.

“Of course you do,” she nods knowingly.

They embrace tightly.

It will always be them against the world.

Rob suddenly becomes aware of the giant bulge from the jewelry box in his back pocket.

“I… I got something for you.”

“Something for me? With Father’s Day so close,” Charlotte quips sarcastically.

He slides his hand into his back pocket.

It didn’t feel like a black hole when he put it in that pocket.

He rubs the facial hair under his bottom lip with his upper teeth. His most obvious tell.

“What is it, babe? Is everything ok?”

“Uh yeah, here, wait a second. Close your eyes.”

Despite being the type of man who had an unnatural obsession with setting RIA on fire, Rob has always acted like a kid who bought his own presents on Christmas morning. It’s these little gestures that keep Charlotte coming back.

He fumbles around clumsily.

“Ok, open your eyes.”

“Oh my god, Rob. Are you fucking serious?”

“Yeah babe, I know you’re sick of me fucking up the pizzas so I got us an air fryer.”

“I’m such a lucky girl.”

Feeling very proud of himself, and his new found self restraint, Rob decides to throw the dice.

A dusty old, worn out guitar sits in the corner collecting dust.

Not really, though. He hasn’t even noticed, but Charlotte has cleaned it a few times since she started coming around. Among putting away his laundry and other little things to keep her man together.

It’s a damn shame when something made with a specific purpose isn’t used.

It feels lighter than he remembers.

Way out of tune.

“Oh god, Rob. Tell me you’re not about to play that thing.”

He twists and strums like a sous chef plating his masterpiece.

“Just gimme a goddamn minute.”

“Alexa, set a timer for a minute.”

“I’ve set your timer for one minute,” Alexa calls out.

An Alexa and an air fryer. Who is this domesticated man?

“Har har har,” Rob replies, still focused on his work.

One last twist.

“There it is,” Rob strums and the guitar cries out the perfect twang. “Now I just have to remember this shit.”

Cooley, who has been peacefully curled up in a ball next to Charlotte despite all this commotion, perks his head up as Rob begins to pluck at the strings. To the shock of all those present (but Rob), it sounds beautiful.

“I’m a stone’s throw from the mill - and I’m a good walk to the river. When my working day is over, we’ll go swim our cares away. Put your toes down in the water and a smile across your face… And tell me that you love me, my lovely Lady May.”

Rob bares it all to Charlotte with his rendition of Tyler Childers’ song. He’s not the smartest man, maybe not even the toughest she’s ever had.

But he’s a man all the same.

And he will love her.

Them against the world.