Nine years.

He had just handed the last nine years of his life over to those pricks at AFC. The best years of his life, probably. And what did he get? Two hours to clean out his desk and a mug with the company logo.

He drained his whisky.

Maybe it was just as well. It’s not like having six different bosses micromanage you all day was such a picnic either.

John fell onto the couch, letting the alcohol work its magic. Tomorrow, or maybe the next day, he’d look for another job. But tonight’s plan consisted solely of a basketball game and a full glass, and probably passing out in the same spot he occupied now, and he looked forward to it.

He grabbed the remote and started flipping through the extensive sports listings. He didn’t care what he watched, and it was doubtful he’d remember it in the morning anyway. He settled on a tied college game and popped open a beer.

--

John was having a thoroughly satisfying dream about setting the AFC building on fire when the decidedly unpleasant shrieking of his doorbell started. He slowly brought himself around to consciousness, doing his best to ignore the shrill hiss punctuating the silence.

He glanced at the clock and silently cursed whoever was on the other side of the door. “Who is it?” He yelled.

“It’s Louisa.” A soft voice said through the wood. “Come on, John, open up.”

John had only known two women named Louisa in his lifetime, and he couldn’t think of any reason why either of them would be banging down his door at two o’clock on a Saturday morning.

“Hold on.” Grudgingly, he pushed himself up and stumbled over to the door, managing to unfasten the locks without his usual degree of coordination.

Even without the blurred vision, John knew he never would have recognized her. More than ten years ago, when they had known each other, Louisa Brooks had been their school’s resident heartbreaker, willowy and tan and dangerously beautiful. And blonde. He’d always had a thing for blondes.

Things had changed. Tan had become pale, willowy became gaunt, and she looked harsh and haunted. She gave him a weak smile. “Hi, John.”

“What’s going on? It’s two in the morning.”

She shrugged. “I’m sorry. This was kind of urgent.”

“Why are you here, Louisa? It’s been…”

“Eleven years.” She answered for him, tapping her long nails nervously against the door frame. “Can I come in? We need to talk.”

John rubbed his throbbing temple. “I don’t see what we could possibly have to talk about.”

She surveyed the room for a long time before she spoke. “You wouldn’t know. Because…I didn’t tell you.”

“Louisa, you’re really starting to freak me out.”

“I’m sorry, John. I really am sorry.” She said slowly.

He was too tired and far too tipsy to play games. “Seriously, Louisa, why are you here?”

She took a deep breath and walked out onto his patio, waving at somebody at the darkness. John watched dumbly as a young boy climbed out of Louisa’s car and made his way to towards the house.

“Who is that?”

“His name is Van.” She turned to face him, her voice shaking a little. “He’s your son.”

“Are you sure?” He asked slowly.

Louisa nodded. “Eleven years old.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” John hissed quietly.

“What was I supposed to do, John? You were going to college. You had a life and a future that didn’t involve me. I couldn’t take that all away from you.”

He knew he had no reason to feel guilty, but he couldn’t help himself. “I never would have let you do this by yourself.”

“How do you know what you would have done? We were only 18.” She said nonchalantly, turning her attention to the boy, who was shuffling awkwardly on the deck. “Come on in, honey. This is John.”

“Hi.” John muttered weakly.

Van didn’t look at him. “Hey.”

“Van, you’ll be staying with John for a while.” At this statement, both heads shot up.

John sneaked a glance at Van, who was carrying the same look of disbelief as he was. He cleared his throat. “Louisa, can we, uh, talk for a second?”

She nodded and followed him into the kitchen. “Look, I know it’s sudden, but…”

He checked to make sure that Van was out of earshot. “You have got to be kidding me.”

“John, just hear me out…”

“No. Eleven years. You don’t call, you don’t visit, you don’t contact me at all. And today, at two o’clock in the morning, you barge into my house to tell me that I have a son? What the hell is going on, Louisa?”

She stared at the floors, avoiding his gaze. “I can’t take care of him anymore. I thought I could, I thought everything would be okay, but…” She looked away, and then finally at him. “I’ve been dragging him down with me for so long, and I don’t want to hurt him anymore. Please tell me you’ll take care of him.”

He put a hand on her shoulder. “Look, just stay tonight. You and Van. We can figure everything out in the morning, okay?”

“I have to go.” She insisted.

“Don’t just abandon him, Louisa. Not now.”

She was quiet for a moment. “I’m doing what’s best for my son.” She gently untangled herself from his grip and smiled sadly. “Just take care of him, John.”

It was still so surreal, like some twisted Lifetime movie-of-the-week come to life. John watched speechlessly as Louisa hugged Van, whispering to him. The boy nodded, his eyes never leaving her as she walked back to her car and drove away.

John leaned up against the door, watching his son carefully. Van did a vague scan of the room, his eyes resting on the shrine of empty bottles lining the floor. “Weren’t expecting company, huh?”

“Van, believe me. I didn’t know that you…” He forced the words out. “She never told me.”

“Yeah, well, she’s a little flaky like that.”

“Van…” John started hesitantly.

“Why am I here?” Van interrupted pointedly.

“What?”

“Look, I know my mom and I don’t have much, but I thought we were doing okay…”

John shook his head. “I think your mother might have some…issues to deal with it, that’s all.”

“And by ‘some issues’, you mean she’s drugging up again, right?”

His first instinct was to deny it, but it was obvious that Van already knew the truth. “I don’t know. I think so.”

“Figures.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.” Van shrugged. “Month or two, she’ll be clean. That’s usually how it ends.”

“Your mother needs help, Van.”

“Maybe.” Van sighed and leaned against the wall. “Look, I don’t really want to be here, and I can tell that you don’t really want me here either. I get it.”

“Don’t say that. I’m…I mean, I am your…”

“Just sharing my DNA doesn’t make you my father. Look, don’t worry about it, John. Once my mom sobers up, I’ll be out of your way, and you can forget you ever procreated. Everybody wins.”

John knew he couldn’t say anymore, not now, not tonight, not while he was still virtually destroyed. He made a quick plan in his head. “There’s a bedroom upstairs. You can sleep there tonight. I’ll take the couch.”

“How noble of you.” He snapped.

“Just get some sleep. We’ll…figure this whole thing out in the morning.”

“Can’t wait.” Van slung his backpack over his shoulders and raced up the stairs.

John waited until Van was safely out of the room before collapsing in one of the kitchen chairs. For the first time since Louisa knocked on his door and changed everything, reality hit.

He was completely screwed.

He lived in a piece of crap house, alone. He didn’t know anything about this boy, his son. He had no job, no experience, and no clue.

But somewhere deep in his mind, John knew he had to take care of Van. He wouldn’t do what Louisa had seemed so sure he would’ve done eleven years ago. He wasn’t that person. He never wanted to be that person.

John found a blanket and set up the couch. He needed to sleep this off. Tomorrow, when his head was clearer, he would handle it.

He had just laid down when the sound of the doorbell interrupted the peace. John debated answering, not sure if he could handle any more surprises for the evening.

The ringing continued, and he reluctantly opened the door. The fiery blonde standing at his door shouldn’t have been a surprise after his last visitor, but she was nonetheless. “John. Hi. I’m not sure if you remember me-.”

“Nikki?” He asked incredulously. “What are you doing here?”

“I need your help.”

“I haven’t seen you in nine years.”

“I know.”

“It’s…” He glanced at his watch. “Three in the morning.”

“I know.”

“This is bullshit.”

“All things I know. Can we talk?”

“Wait. We don’t have any kids, do we?”

“What?”

“Never mind. Come in.”

Nikki walked in and inspected the room. “Nice place.” She said sarcastically.

John rubbed his eyes. “It’s been a rough day.”

“Isn’t it always.” She took off her coat, and he realized how little she’d changed in the years since he’d seen her. She was just as beautiful as she’d been then.

“It’s been a long time, Nik. Why did you come here?”

“I told you. I need your help.” She leaned against the chair, staring into space. “Someone tried to kill me today.”

“What? Are you okay?” He moved toward her, but she held up her hand to stop him.

“I’m fine. The bullets missed me.” She laughed, a slight bitterness in her voice. “I need somewhere to stay. Just for a week or two, until I figure everything out.”

“Why come here?” John asked. “Out of all the people I’m sure you know, you came to me? Your ex-boyfriend who you haven’t seen since college?”

Nikki smirked. “Stumbled across your name in the phone book. I guess you could call it fate, huh?”

“Maybe.” John smiled. He’d wanted to be angry the moment saw her, to remember how badly things had ended between them. But nothing he felt seemed even remotely like anger, and he was glad that she had come, for whatever reason.

There was a creak from upstairs. Nikki nodded up to the ceiling. “I’m sorry. Do you have a woman up there?”

“Nikki, its not-.”

“Because if I’m in the way of you getting laid, by all means, let me know.”

Her infamous temper was still alive and kicking, it seemed. “Nikki.” He said patiently.

“Yes?”

John nodded to the base of the stairs, where Van was standing. “Nikki, this is Van. He’s…he’s my son.”

Van stared at them. “Oh. I thought my mother was back.” He said flatly.

“Van, this is Nikki. She’s an old friend of mine.”

The boy jerked his head faintly in her direction before turning around and disappearing back up the stairs.

The confusion of Nikki’s face was clear. “I’m assuming there’s some kind of story here?”

John fell back down onto the couch. “Let’s just say you weren’t the first person to visit me this morning.”

“That’s…your son?”

“Yep.”

“I don’t think I’ve been gone that long.”

“Yeah, well I just found out about an hour ago. Nikki, I don’t know what I’m going to do. I have no idea how I’m going to take care of this kid. It’s just…”

Nikki nodded sympathetically and picked up her coat. “Look, it seems like you’ve got a lot going on already. I can find another place to stay...”

“No. You can stay. You…” He sighed. “Stay. You should stay.”

She sighed. “Okay.”

“I guess…you can sleep on the couch. I’ll find some floor space upstairs.”

“I’m sorry.” Nikki apologized guiltily.

“It’s not a big deal.” John grabbed a few pillows and an old sleeping bag and headed for his office. He stopped just before he reached the steps. “It’s good to see you again, Nikki.”

She stopped fixing the couch and stood up. “You too. And John?”

“Yeah?”

“Thank you.” She said with more sincerity than he’d ever heard her say anything.

John smiled. “No problem.”

He went upstairs, more desperately in need of sleep than he’d ever been of anything, but something told him he definitely wouldn’t be getting to sleep that night.