Categories > Celebrities > My Chemical Romance > With the Words You Say
Penelope Bryar sat at her kitchen table, talking about many nothings with her friend Christa, visiting from New Jersey with her husband, Ray. From somewhere in the house, the laughing screams of two boys, one belonging each to Penelope and Christa, floated into the kitchen as they sipped their iced tea. Suddenly, the boys came barreling into the kitchen, rough-housing and wrestling each other to the ground.
“Not in my kitchen, boys,” Penelope yelled, wanting to be heard above the ruckus. They had attracted the dog, Al, who was now barking at the children and trying to get in on the action. “Take it outside. Bring Al with you.” The boys and the dog ran out into the spacious yard, Penelope’s son pushing Christa’s ahead of himself a bit too roughly for either woman’s liking. “Hey,” Penelope called as the door slammed closed. “Let’s try to keep all limbs in tact, okay Will?” She didn’t actually expect any answer besides the sound of more screaming laughter from the backyard, and she didn’t get one.
“Oh, Charlie’s a tough kid; he’ll be fine,” Christa assured her friend, tipping more Splenda into her tea.
“I suppose boys will be boys,” Penelope concurred, shaking her head and smiling.
“You know, it’s amazing how much like Bob Will gets every time I see him.”
“I know! It’s ridiculous. They even have the same mannerisms, aside from looks, sound, and attitude,” Penelope said good-naturedly.
Ten years had passed very quickly for Penelope and Bob. After the very eventful family gathering that had accumulated many tears, much tension, and come just short of drawing blood, the couple had kept going with their wedding plans. They had had a lovely spring wedding, ending in Frank, of all people, catching the bouquet as a joke after Penelope threw it. She still laughed whenever she saw the picture of him holding it excitedly above his head.
After two years of marriage, Penelope had been feeling…ill. She was tired all the time, she was sick in the mornings and hungry in the afternoons, and she craved weird foods at all hours of the night. Finally, a coworker of hers had convinced her to go see a doctor. As it turned out, Penelope was four months pregnant with a baby boy. He was born in December, having Bob’s same birthday, the 31. They named him William (after Penelope’s late father) George (after Bob’s father) Bryar. The gynecologist had told Penelope that she had beaten the million-to-one shot of getting pregnant. Both halves of the couple were ecstatic that they had defied the inevitable.
“Mommy, Mommy,” a little girl by the name of Emma waddled into the kitchen, red hair falling into her blue eyes. She was about four years old, give or take a few months, and was clutching a piece of paper.
“Yes, honey?” Penelope asked her daughter.
It was even more of shock when, four years later, Penelope had gotten pregnant again, this time with a little girl. It was a dream come true for both Penelope and Bob, both always having wanted two children. The doctor had said it was nothing short of a miracle for Penelope to be having her second child.
“I drew a picture, Mommy!” Emma proudly showed a collection of colorful scribbles on the paper.
“Ooh, how pretty!” Penelope cooed, smiling approvingly at the picture. “Go hang it on the refrigerator, darling.” And she did.
“Mommy, can I go outside and play with Will and Charlie?”
“Go ahead, honey, but be careful; they’re rough-housing.” Penelope nodded toward the door, and Emma barreled out of it to join her brother, his friend, and the dog.
“Doesn’t it seem like just yesterday that Bob was proposing to you at mine and Ray’s wedding reception?” Christa sighed nostalgically.
“Mmm…” Penelope sighed, nodding. Forget proposing, she could recall the very first time she’d met Bob and the rest of her friends as clearly as though it were still happening. Twelve brief, fleeting years that hadn’t even felt like years, but short breaths of life. “Where are the big boys?”
As if on cue, Bob and Ray came in through the front door, making as much, if not more, noise as their small sons in the backyard.
“Honeys, we’re home!” Ray called out, making both wives roll their eyes and smile.
“And where were you two?” Christa asked as Ray sidled up behind her chair, planting a small kiss on her cheek.
“Oh, out,” Bob said, producing from behind his back a small bouquet of daisies for Penelope. Ray did the same with Christa, except with tulips.
“Oh! How sweet. You win again, love of my life.” Penelope smiled up at Bob, who squeezed her shoulder affectionately.
“What were you two ladies doing? Pining away for us? You cried, didn’t you?” Ray asked Christa, grinning as he teased her.
“Oh, yes. The minute you walked in, we had to dry our tears so you wouldn’t see.”
“Ahh, I knew it. Listen, babe, I think we should leave in a little. I have to be back at work tomorrow, and Charlie has school.”
“Ohh,” Christa pouted and turned to Penelope, who also frowned.
“Couldn’t you guys spend the night? It’s always so sad to see you go.”
“I know, but we’ll try to visit again real soon,” Ray assured his friend.
“I guess that’s what we’ll have to settle for.” Penelope stood up and hugged her friends, sorry to see them leaving so soon.
After Ray, Christa, and Charlie had set off for home, the Bryar family were left to themselves. Emma and Will were in the yard throwing sticks for Al to fetch, Penelope was making dinner, and Bob was helping.
“Honey,” Penelope said in a sing-song voice. “If you don’t stop stealing macaroni out of the pot, we’re going to have a lot of cheese and a little macaroni for dinner.”
“Sorry,” Bob said, nicking one last bit of pasta from the boiling pot. He smirked at the face he got from Penelope, kissing her lightly on the nose and causing her to giggle and swat him on the chest. Glancing out the window, Penelope gasped slightly and opened it, addressing her children.
“Hey, you kids! Look how dark it is outside! Come in for dinner, now.” She closed the window and continued mixing cheeses. “Bob, honey, would you drain that pasta now? The colander’s in the sink already. And don’t forget to rinse it, or it’ll be all starchy.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Bob said, bowing low and narrowly avoiding a potential crash between himself and his son.
“Careful!” Penelope warned, standing on her tip-toes to get plates out of the cupboard. “Will, come here and set the table, please.”
“Aw, Mom,” Will complained, taking the dishes from her and beginning to put them on the placemats.
“Yes, I know, the trials I put you through are murderous.” Penelope rolled her eyes.
When the family had finally been able to finish putting dinner together and set the table, they all sat down to eat.
“This looks delicious, as usual, babe,” Bob said, winking at his wife.
“Thank you. I do try.”
“Mommy! Guess what…”
“Dad, can we make that model airplane…”
“Honey, you didn’t happen to pick up my shirt from the cleaners…”
“That’s great, sweetie…”
And as the family ate their meal, talked, laughed, and shared their lives with each other, nobody would ever guess the kind of past that had preceded this life, and no one could ever guess what would happen next.
Oh, wow, last chapter. What do you think? Happy? Corny? Stupid? I kind of liked it. I had this ending in mind since I began this story, and I'm proud to say that I actually made it this far. And I'd like to thank all of you that have been with me since the beginning, and those of you that joined me in the process, and everyone else. Thank you. I couldn't have done it without you guys. =]
[Insert Disclaimer Here] I do not own My Chemical Romance, but I do own the characters of my own invention, and I most certainly own the plot. Bob Bryar in no way belongs to me (no matter how much it pains me to say so), and neither do any other real people that actually exist outside of my story. A'ight? A'ight. So yeah.
I guess, for the last time on this story...OverAndOutxx
“Not in my kitchen, boys,” Penelope yelled, wanting to be heard above the ruckus. They had attracted the dog, Al, who was now barking at the children and trying to get in on the action. “Take it outside. Bring Al with you.” The boys and the dog ran out into the spacious yard, Penelope’s son pushing Christa’s ahead of himself a bit too roughly for either woman’s liking. “Hey,” Penelope called as the door slammed closed. “Let’s try to keep all limbs in tact, okay Will?” She didn’t actually expect any answer besides the sound of more screaming laughter from the backyard, and she didn’t get one.
“Oh, Charlie’s a tough kid; he’ll be fine,” Christa assured her friend, tipping more Splenda into her tea.
“I suppose boys will be boys,” Penelope concurred, shaking her head and smiling.
“You know, it’s amazing how much like Bob Will gets every time I see him.”
“I know! It’s ridiculous. They even have the same mannerisms, aside from looks, sound, and attitude,” Penelope said good-naturedly.
Ten years had passed very quickly for Penelope and Bob. After the very eventful family gathering that had accumulated many tears, much tension, and come just short of drawing blood, the couple had kept going with their wedding plans. They had had a lovely spring wedding, ending in Frank, of all people, catching the bouquet as a joke after Penelope threw it. She still laughed whenever she saw the picture of him holding it excitedly above his head.
After two years of marriage, Penelope had been feeling…ill. She was tired all the time, she was sick in the mornings and hungry in the afternoons, and she craved weird foods at all hours of the night. Finally, a coworker of hers had convinced her to go see a doctor. As it turned out, Penelope was four months pregnant with a baby boy. He was born in December, having Bob’s same birthday, the 31. They named him William (after Penelope’s late father) George (after Bob’s father) Bryar. The gynecologist had told Penelope that she had beaten the million-to-one shot of getting pregnant. Both halves of the couple were ecstatic that they had defied the inevitable.
“Mommy, Mommy,” a little girl by the name of Emma waddled into the kitchen, red hair falling into her blue eyes. She was about four years old, give or take a few months, and was clutching a piece of paper.
“Yes, honey?” Penelope asked her daughter.
It was even more of shock when, four years later, Penelope had gotten pregnant again, this time with a little girl. It was a dream come true for both Penelope and Bob, both always having wanted two children. The doctor had said it was nothing short of a miracle for Penelope to be having her second child.
“I drew a picture, Mommy!” Emma proudly showed a collection of colorful scribbles on the paper.
“Ooh, how pretty!” Penelope cooed, smiling approvingly at the picture. “Go hang it on the refrigerator, darling.” And she did.
“Mommy, can I go outside and play with Will and Charlie?”
“Go ahead, honey, but be careful; they’re rough-housing.” Penelope nodded toward the door, and Emma barreled out of it to join her brother, his friend, and the dog.
“Doesn’t it seem like just yesterday that Bob was proposing to you at mine and Ray’s wedding reception?” Christa sighed nostalgically.
“Mmm…” Penelope sighed, nodding. Forget proposing, she could recall the very first time she’d met Bob and the rest of her friends as clearly as though it were still happening. Twelve brief, fleeting years that hadn’t even felt like years, but short breaths of life. “Where are the big boys?”
As if on cue, Bob and Ray came in through the front door, making as much, if not more, noise as their small sons in the backyard.
“Honeys, we’re home!” Ray called out, making both wives roll their eyes and smile.
“And where were you two?” Christa asked as Ray sidled up behind her chair, planting a small kiss on her cheek.
“Oh, out,” Bob said, producing from behind his back a small bouquet of daisies for Penelope. Ray did the same with Christa, except with tulips.
“Oh! How sweet. You win again, love of my life.” Penelope smiled up at Bob, who squeezed her shoulder affectionately.
“What were you two ladies doing? Pining away for us? You cried, didn’t you?” Ray asked Christa, grinning as he teased her.
“Oh, yes. The minute you walked in, we had to dry our tears so you wouldn’t see.”
“Ahh, I knew it. Listen, babe, I think we should leave in a little. I have to be back at work tomorrow, and Charlie has school.”
“Ohh,” Christa pouted and turned to Penelope, who also frowned.
“Couldn’t you guys spend the night? It’s always so sad to see you go.”
“I know, but we’ll try to visit again real soon,” Ray assured his friend.
“I guess that’s what we’ll have to settle for.” Penelope stood up and hugged her friends, sorry to see them leaving so soon.
After Ray, Christa, and Charlie had set off for home, the Bryar family were left to themselves. Emma and Will were in the yard throwing sticks for Al to fetch, Penelope was making dinner, and Bob was helping.
“Honey,” Penelope said in a sing-song voice. “If you don’t stop stealing macaroni out of the pot, we’re going to have a lot of cheese and a little macaroni for dinner.”
“Sorry,” Bob said, nicking one last bit of pasta from the boiling pot. He smirked at the face he got from Penelope, kissing her lightly on the nose and causing her to giggle and swat him on the chest. Glancing out the window, Penelope gasped slightly and opened it, addressing her children.
“Hey, you kids! Look how dark it is outside! Come in for dinner, now.” She closed the window and continued mixing cheeses. “Bob, honey, would you drain that pasta now? The colander’s in the sink already. And don’t forget to rinse it, or it’ll be all starchy.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Bob said, bowing low and narrowly avoiding a potential crash between himself and his son.
“Careful!” Penelope warned, standing on her tip-toes to get plates out of the cupboard. “Will, come here and set the table, please.”
“Aw, Mom,” Will complained, taking the dishes from her and beginning to put them on the placemats.
“Yes, I know, the trials I put you through are murderous.” Penelope rolled her eyes.
When the family had finally been able to finish putting dinner together and set the table, they all sat down to eat.
“This looks delicious, as usual, babe,” Bob said, winking at his wife.
“Thank you. I do try.”
“Mommy! Guess what…”
“Dad, can we make that model airplane…”
“Honey, you didn’t happen to pick up my shirt from the cleaners…”
“That’s great, sweetie…”
And as the family ate their meal, talked, laughed, and shared their lives with each other, nobody would ever guess the kind of past that had preceded this life, and no one could ever guess what would happen next.
Oh, wow, last chapter. What do you think? Happy? Corny? Stupid? I kind of liked it. I had this ending in mind since I began this story, and I'm proud to say that I actually made it this far. And I'd like to thank all of you that have been with me since the beginning, and those of you that joined me in the process, and everyone else. Thank you. I couldn't have done it without you guys. =]
[Insert Disclaimer Here] I do not own My Chemical Romance, but I do own the characters of my own invention, and I most certainly own the plot. Bob Bryar in no way belongs to me (no matter how much it pains me to say so), and neither do any other real people that actually exist outside of my story. A'ight? A'ight. So yeah.
I guess, for the last time on this story...OverAndOutxx
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