Date: Sat, 10 Jan 2004 22:07:36 -0800 From: Liquid Dream Subject: Final Acts/ Chapter 3 Disclaimer: This story is completely fictional. All similarities with this to actual people or places is purely coincidental. Harry Potter is a registered trademark of J.K. Rowling and all references to her works are done so without official recognition. Message from the author: As with part one, I got a nice response for two. I hope that you guys keep on reading. Final Acts Part 3: Anthony returned to his apartment at about 10 o'clock that night. After going to buy the rest of the books in the Harry Potter series, he had gone out for a drink...or ten. He stumbled up to the door and fumbled in his pockets for the key. Lumbering into the room, he collapsed onto the couch and passed out. Anthony opened his eyes. The posters on the walls, his toys scattered all over the floor... Then...him. His father stormed through the door, staggering as several cans of beer circulated through his blood. "Get over here, boy!" the drunkard bellowed. "Daddy! No! Please! I didn't do anything!" he heard himself scream. His father grabbed him by the neck and drew back his other fist. "No, Daddy!" Anthony screamed as his eyes shot open. He was lying on his couch. Anthony rose from the couch, drenched in sweat. "A dream...it was only a dream..." he said to himself. He walked into the kitchen and poured himself a shot of whiskey. As he was about to down it, he stopped. After thinking for a moment, he emptied the liquid into a sink and filled a glass with some water. "There. There's my good deed. Are you happy now?" he said bitterly, looking vaguely upwards. He looked at the clock. It was 3 in the morning. "Christ..." he said. After emptying his glass, he went to the bathroom. He began to unbutton his shirt. Next, his pants came down. For the next few minutes, the room was too full of thick, white steam to see anything. Then, he walked out, a white towel around his waist. He went to a drawer and pulled out a fresh pair of boxer-breifs and pulled them on, throwing his towel in the dirty clothes basket. It just caught the side and hung from the rim of the basket. Anthony stared at it and shrugged. He fell back onto his bed, and once again, fell asleep. He awoke to the sound of the radio. The alarm. He yawned deeply as he rose from his bed. He hit the clock aimlessly, and after a couple of attempts, it went silent. He grabbed his head. Drinker's remorse. He stretched out and walked to his closet. After only a few minutes, he was dressed and set to start another day. He grabbed his keys, wallet and cell phone from the prior night's pant pocket and put them in his fresh pair. He went to the bathroom and opened the medicine cabinet and grabbed some aspirin. After giving himself a quick once over in the mirror, he set out. His car was unlocked when he got to it. Then he remembered that he had been so drunk, he couldn't find the keyhole. He hopped in and set off for work. He pulled into the parking lot of the CPA and was shocked to find no one there. He parked and thought for a moment...it was Saturday! He banged his head on the steering wheel for his stupidity, but was rewarded with more pain than he had bargained for. He looked to his right at the passenger's seat, where on it, sat the four books he had purchased last night. He thought for a moment before starting up the car and, yet again, set off for Rosewood. As he walked through the sliding doors of the hospital, he was once again greeted by Francene. "Mr. Gregorio, how nice to see you again. What can I help you with?" she said, her voice very jovial. "Oh, please, call me Anthony. I am here to see Trenton. He...uhhh...likes these books and I thought I might..." he began, not wanting to sound unprofessional. "Ah, yes. The little darling told me all about you. You truly are too kind. You don't know how much that means to him, Mr. Gre---I mean, Anthony," she said. "Thank you. He is a really great kid," Anthony replied. "He is. Well, you remember the way, don't you?" she smiled. "Yes. I'll see you later, Francene," he replied as he began to walk down the hallway. He walked up to the door and knocked lightly. "Come in," that sweet little voice rang out. Anthony opened the door and walked into the room. He looked at Trenton, who was sitting up in bed, his head turned towards this new visitor. "Anthony! You came back!" he squealed in delight. "How...how did you know it was me?" Anthony puzzled. "Once I meet someone, I can always tell if they come back," he explained. Anthony smiled and walked next to the bed, to sit in the chair from the night before. "I brought you something," Anthony said. Trenton put his hands out to feel what Anthony had brought. "Oh, Anthony...is that what I think it is?" he asked, his voice fading into disbelief. "Yep. The rest of the series," Anthony said happily. "Anthony...you really didn't have to...it must have cost you a lot...I'm so sorry I can't pay you back, but maybe you could take it ba—" Trenton began, but was interrupted by Anthony. "No, no, Trenton. I don't want you to. It's a gift," he explained. "Anthony, thank you! I don't know how to tell you how much I appreciate this," Trenton said. "I already know, Trenton. Do you want me to start reading them to you?" asked Anthony. "Yes, please," Trenton said enthusiastically. And so, Anthony picked up the next book and began to read. About half way through, he paused. "Trenton, why don't the nurses ever come in to check on you?" he asked. "Oh. Well, the only thing that can be done this far is for them to wait for my wounds to close. That's the most crucial stage. I have an infection in the wound that can't really be helped except for antibiotics that they give to me early in the morning. For the rest of the day, nothing can really be done unless I call someone in for help. Francene used to check up on me almost every five minutes before her boss threatened to fire her for leaving her post," he explained. "I see. Yeah, she seems really nice," Anthony replied. "She is. The first night I was here, she came in and sang me to sleep. She just held my hand and kept singing until I forgot about how much it hurt and fell asleep," Trenton said. "Wow...she really cares about you," Anthony said. Trenton nodded. Anthony picked the book up from his lap and began to read on. By 7 that night, they had finished two books. "Oh, Trenton, my eyes are getting tired," Anthony said. "You don't have to read anymore if you don't want to, Tony. You've done more than enough," Trenton said, truly appreciative. "How about I come back tomorrow afternoon and read some more? I have some work to do at home in the morning, but that should only take a few hours," Anthony offered. "Anthony, you don't know how much I would like that, but please, don't change your life for me," Trenton pleaded. "No, no, I want to do this, Trenton," he said. "Ok. I'll see you tomorrow then?" Trenton asked, his voice hopeful. "Yes. I'll come as soon as I finish my work," Anthony confirmed. "Ok," Trenton smiled. Anthony set the book back onto the table and stood. He thought for a moment and leaned down. He lay one gentle kiss on the child's forehead. "Goodnight, Trenton," Anthony said as he began to leave the room. Amazingly, Trenton had already begun to doze off in that short amount of time, but in the twighlight of sleep and consciousness, he uttered two slurred words, "goodnight, Daddy." Anthony froze and turned around. Daddy? Oh...oh no...The poor kid wanted him to be his father... He quickly turned and left the room. He approached the counter, Francene was not their, it was a different woman. He decided he wouldn't make small talk and nodded goodbye to her. He left the building, got into his car, and took of for home, a thousand thoughts running through his mind.