The 3rd Experiment

Chapter 3

|Sunday, October 18, 1936|

When I walk into the kitchen, I can feel a cloud of sorrow and exhaustion filling the room and I look over to the couch to see Steve fast asleep. Friday, Bucky had called the nearest hospital to report Sarah's death and he even went to Steve's house for the coroner's inquest.

They concluded that she died from the tuberculosis she had been suffering from for months now. They were surprised she had made it as long as she did.

Bucky made arrangements with a funeral home and managed to get us some time today so Steve wouldn't dwell too long. Fortunately, dad offered to pay for any bills that may present themselves because he felt that he owed the Rogers' that much. He knew Joseph Rogers briefly as they both served in the 107th. Dad always felt some sort of guilt for those that died in the mustard gas attacks.

I get dressed in my nicest black dress and help Bucky and William tie their bow ties to their collars before waking Steve up off of the couch. He looks so peaceful and unfazed by all of this that I hate to disturb that.

"Hey, Steve, it's time." I say to him, rubbing his shoulder and waiting for him to sit up. "I laid out some clothes for you to put on. They're Will's so I don't know how well they'll fit."

"Thank you, Raya."

I pretend to clean the kitchen and get breakfast ready so I can keep an eye on Steve and be sure he's gotten off the couch to get dressed.I hear the front door open and Bucky comes stomping inside, stopping in the kitchen to talk to me.

"Dad's going to give us a ride to the service, we just need to leave soon."

"Bucky? What is he going to do now?" I glance at Steve who is buttoning one last button on his collar.

"He's been on his own for months now, ever since Sarah got sick. He can manage for a little longer."

"I just wish he didn't have to."

Bucky pulls me into a hug, feeling how tense I am for Steve.

"But he's not alone, right?" He reassures, referencing us two.

"Of course not."

***

"We are here today not to mourn the death of a mother and friend but to celebrate her life. Sarah Rogers was not only an incredible Mother and Wife to the closest men in her life but she was a highly honored nurse during World War I."

The officiant rambles on for many minutes, crediting Sarah for more things than she deserved. She was really a good person but there was so much she didn't do. For Steve, and for herself.

I look over to Steve and I can tell he is just ready for this to be done. He is twisting his ankles out of boredom and fidgeting with his fingers to keep busy.

He's clearly not breathing as much as should and showing some other signs of mourning, but truthfully, he's had the last couple of months to mourn her. The Rogers' have never had the kind of money they can spend comfortably. So when tuberculosis was diagnosed, the two of them knew that that would be it sooner or later.

All I want to do at this moment is scream. I want to tell the officiant to shut up, that his speech doesn't matter because it wasn't Sarah. I want to hug Steve and not let go for hours so he knows that he doesn't have to go through this alone. Not the speech, not the grief, none of it. I'll always be there to remind him who his mom really was.

After I've zoned out for the last half of the commemorative speech, I walk over to Steve's side as they lower the casket. He throws a rose in there just before it touches the bottom of the grave and he turns to me for a hug as they throw the dirt over top. I can feel him holding back tears and almost choking on his emotions. He lets go and tries to avoid eye contact with me.

"I just need a minute." He says, walking beyond me.

My father walks up to me and pulls me into a quick hug, trying to be sympathetic.

"We'll need to get going soon, Rebecca," He says

"Let me just go find Steve-"

"Rebecca."

He walks me to the car where Bucky is leaning on the back door, ready to open it for me.

"Where's Steve?"

"Walking home. I couldn't stop him."

We both get in the back seats, watching our siblings flood into the center row and Dad and Will in the very front. He drops Buck and me off at Steve's house and we catch up just as he's coming up the stairs. I wait at the base of the steps and let Bucky talk to him this time.

"We looked for you after. My folks wanted to give you a ride back home." He says, prompting Steve to turn and face him.

"I know, I'm sorry. I just... kind of  wanted to be alone."

"How was the rest?"

"It was okay. She's next to Dad."

"I was gonna ask..."

"I know what you're gonna say, Buck, I just..."

"We can put the couch cushions on the floor like when we were kids. It'll be fun. All you gotta do is shine my shoes, maybe take out the trash." I watch as Steve struggles to find his key in his pockets and Bucky knows to check under the brick. This almost proves Bucky's point that Steve could use his help.

"Come on." He says, handing the key over

"Thank you, Buck, but I can get by on my own."

"The thing is, you don't have to." Bucky reaches out and pats him on the shoulder, "I'm with you to the end of the line, pal."

Steve smiles a polite smile before walking in and closing the door. Buck walks back down to me and we both smile at each other, trying to pertend that what just happened wont turn out as bad as we think.

***

When we get home, I go straight to Mom's room, ready to clean up a new mess and I see Dad tucking her in. He passes me on the way out and almost completely misses me in the doorway.

I pick up the cups sitting on the ground by the bed. Then the multitude of bowls and plates resting in each other on the dresser, and arms length away from the bed. And as soon as I open the nightstand drawer, I find two bottles of  Kentucky Straight Bourbon Whiskey.

The ceramic and glass materials clank as I walk to the door again and I hear mom call out to me.

"Georgie, are you still in here?"

"No, Mom, it's Becca."

"Hey, Rebecca, could you bring me some oats." She says, her speech slurred. She's clearly drunk, hungover, or both.

"Mom, you've got to stop this."

"What are you saying?" She asks, fidgeting in the bed

"Mom. This is so unhealthy!" I say, raising my voice and setting the dishes back on the dresser, quite loudly.

"I don't-"

"It's unhealthy for you, and it's unhealthy for everyone else. I'm throwing away the alcohol and tomorrow's breakfast is going to be in the kitchen. I'm not bringing you any more breakfast in bed because you're too drunk to stand."

"Rebecca-"

"Oh, and if you had been sober for the last couple of months... scratch that, years, you would've known that I go by Raya. That's what Lily would call me before she could pronounce my name. I'm so tired of everyone excusing your behavior just because I'm here to do your job. So enjoy your last day of soaking in everyone's pity because I'm not taking it anymore."

I lift up the dishes once more and leave, slamming the door behind me.