Rachel Minnow had vomited until she couldn't vomit anymore.
Flopping down onto her back on her bathroom floor in her dorm, she couldn't take it. She knew she had to go to class in about 15 minutes, but the way she was feeling...she couldn't afford to blow it off, but she also couldn't afford to throw up on everyone she came into remote contact with. Rachel eventually gathered herself back up, cleaned herself off, got changed, gathered her things and headed to class. She had to go. After all, people expected great things from her. That was all she'd been told her whole life. That people expected great things from her. From the moment her natural artistic talent began to show through, even at such a young age, her parents repeatedly told said, "You're going to be so successful that one day you'll be able to take care of us!" The level of unwarranted pressure that puts on a small child is despicable, Rachel quickly realized, and the last thing she wanted to do was take care of other folks, when she could barely manage to take care of herself. Now, as an adult who worked at a low effort coffee shop, she couldn't be happier with where others expectations of her lay. In fact, the only person she could let down at this point was herself, and she had the lowest expectations of all for herself, so she was rarely disappointed. Rachel still liked to paint. It wasn't like she'd given up on it entirely. She just couldn't handle the pressure that came with the potential success. Some people are built for fame, but most people aren't. Rachel, however, was built for fame. She just didn't want it. *** "Do you think we'll go to the same college?" Kelly asked, lying on Rachel's bed one summer afternoon in Sophomore year of high school. Rachel was seated at her desk, doing some light sketching while Kelly flipped through a magazine. "I doubt it," Rachel said, "mostly because I'll be attending an art college." "Maybe I could attend art college too," Kelly said, making Rachel laugh. "You don't have any artistic skills," Rachel replied, "You could barely manage to make a diorama for school!" "Yeah, I guess you're right," Kelly said quietly, sighing, then adding, "it's just not fair. I don't wanna go back to not having any friends. I got used to having you around." Rachel spun around in her desk chair and looked at Kelly. She smiled. "Hey," she said, "don't worry about it. We'll still be friends even if we go to different colleges. That'll never change." It did, in fact, change, and it didn't even wait until college to happen. Rachel stopped being friends with Kelly before high school was even over, and she rarely, if ever, felt bad for the fact. The reasoning? Certainly not anything Kelly could ever figure out, and was always too afraid to ask about. Instead she sat on the sidelines, seeing write ups about the up and coming future star painter, until one day, Rachel dropped out of college, and then dropped out of sight. Kelly never knew why this happened either, but at least this time, she was a bit more curious to find out the reason. *** "I'm livin' the dream," Rachel said, sitting at the table by the window, the usual spot she and Calvin and taken to meeting in the last few weeks; she bit into a bagel and said, "yes sirree." "This is the dream?" Calvin asked, trying not to laugh, "Gee, and the rest of us thought we had it made with the house and the family and the high paying job, when in actuality we got it all wrong. We're so stupid." "I don't necessarily mean the way I live is perfect, but, like, this way I have absolutely no expectations put on me, and it doesn't make me anxious. When I was in college, and my painting started getting noticed, it was stressful as hell. All those galas, all those shows, it was just...too high strung. Everyone always expected my best work. Mediocre or even middling work was never acceptable. Always had to be top notch stuff. But this? Nobody expects me to make the best cup of coffee they've ever tasted. That level of pressure I can live with." Calvin sipped his coffee and nodded, running a hand through his hair. "Yeah, I know what you mean," he said, "Once you've removed all the stressful things from your life, or in some cases had them removed for you, it does become somewhat easier to gauge what exactly matters the most. Keeps your mind clear. You're able to think more cleanly." "Exactly," Rachel said, "My head was fogged and clouded so often, and now...I mean, I have extreme depression but at least I can think about how to handle it without worrying about a million other things." A moment passed as they watched a mom and her two kids leave the coffee shop, both kids happily eating pastries while the mom drank her coffee. Calvin smiled at the sight, and Rachel sighed. "I used to think the most important thing in life was doing it perfectly," Rachel said, "meet someone, get married, have some kids, have a career, never allow a blemish on this plan...but now..." "It has its perks, I'll admit," Calvin said, "having people to care about and who care about you, but again, pressure." "I can barely handle a relationship. The last woman I was with became so intensely clingy that I felt bad when I split up with her because I didn't want her to assume it was the clingyness and not the fact that we were merely incompatible as partners." "And?" "I mean, it was partially the clingyness, but still, she shouldn't have to feel bad about it," Rachel said, the both of them laughing softly. *** The last person Rachel ever expected to see the night of graduation was Kelly, and yet here she was, standing on the front porch. Rachel hadn't gone to any of the graduation parties, but she was dressed and ready to go out with a few friends she'd met at a summer art program in senior year. Kelly, on the other hand, was wearing a band t-shirt and jeans, looking like the kid she always looked like. "What are you doing here?" Rachel asked. "I needed to pick something up. I left something with you a few years ago and you never returned it," Kelly said, "it's a photo album." "Oh, okay, come on in," Rachel said, stepping aside and allowing Kelly entrance into the house. The two girls headed up the stairs to Rachel's bedroom, and Kelly began looking through the closet, knowing this was where most of the stuff she left over eventually wound up. The girls used to be as tight as ever, always borrowing one anothers belongings, leaving things over at one anothers houses for years at a time, but now this item was the only thing of Kelly's left in Rachel's presence, and even that was about to leave. Rachel sat on the bed and watched her former best friend search. "I'm going out, if you wanna come," she said quietly, surprising even herself at the offer. "Uh, no thanks, I have to take this photo album to my grandma in the hospital," Kelly said. "Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't know," Rachel whispered. "Besides, you didn't want to see me in high school, what would make me think you wanna see me now that it's over?" "I was just trying to be nice," Rachel said. "There's something you haven't done in a while." "You don't have to be a bitch," Rachel snapped. "No, actually, I kind of do. After the way you treated me, I think I need to stand up for myself once in a while, even to the people I never once would've expected to be mean to me," Kelly said, still searching through the closet, not even looking at her, "because you were the one person I never thought I'd have to defend myself from. It hurts." Rachel didn't even want to respond to that, because she wasn't really sure how to. Instead, she just stayed seated on the bed and waited until Kelly finally managed to uncover the photo album. The two walked back downstairs, and once Kelly was on the porch, she thanked Rachel for the invite, and apologized for what she said. As Rachel watched her former best friend leave, all she could think of was how bad she felt for Kelly. Rachel had always been weird, but she was able to at least make friends. Kelly couldn't make friends. It had been a miracle she and Rachel had become friends at all, and Rachel wondered what life must be like, to be that lonely. Now, as an adult, she understood exactly, and she couldn't lie, she felt kinda bad about the whole thing, even if she did enjoy her solitude. *** "It's not all it's cracked up to be," Calvin said another day, this time sitting in his car in the parking lot so Rachel could have a smoke break; he continued, "being alone and stuff. I mean, sure, it's got its perks, but there's something to be said about the level of comfort that comes from having those around you who want you there without expecting anything of you, and that's what a good relationship actually brings." "It's too hard. Everything's too hard," Rachel said, blowing smoke out the window, "I'm just not cut out for things that take any effort." Calvin laughed loudly at this and nodded. "I understand that sentiment all too well," he said, "these days I find it harder and harder to do anything that doesn't feel required of me. I can give my all to a project that feels necessary, but the small stuff? Laundry, cooking, having friends? Seems so much harder." "I didn't realize it at the time, but...I kinda need the structure school gave me. I think that was partially why college didn't work, because it was so unstructured. Like, sure I was expected to do the work and show up for classes, but what was the ultimate punishment if I didn't? Nothing, really. Unless you allowed it to get so bad that they flat out dropped you, but even that took some level of effort. I need that rigid structure that general school gives. Apparently I can't be damned to care about anything if nobody is expecting me to do it." "Expectation is both a blessing and a curse then, it sounds like," Calvin said, "when I was married, my wife expected things of me, but they weren't huge things, and I did them not because they were expected but because I wanted to make her happy." "That's sweet," Rachel said, smiling. "But these days, I totally get it. Without that need, I just...I don't care." "...I think I could make it work with someone, if I met the right woman, but...the right woman is never the woman I meet. That's the problem. And it takes so much effort to meet someone you can really see a future with, and that's a whole other set of expectations that I just can't deal with." "What's with the aversion to expectation? I mean, I kinda get it, I just don't-" "I had this agent, when I was in college. He was highly recommended, was said to be very supporting of the artists he promoted, and honestly he didn't seem that bad. But the more I learned about him, particularly from other women he had as clients, the more I realized I couldn't give him what he wanted. He wanted perfect work every time. He wanted a good part of the commission. When I stopped turning in high quality stuff, and when I demanded that I be paid my fair share because I'm the one actually making the art, he got...mean." "What kind of mean?" Calvin asked. "It was at one of the showings, but everyone had left and we were clearing things up, and he tried to...anyway, I was lucky. One of the waitresses there who came back because she'd left some of the catering equipment walked in on his attempt, and helped me stop him. It didn't get far, but the effort was enough. He put effort into that. He planned that. He made sure it happened when we were alone. Effort, ever since then, has just seemed wrong. He expected me to give him what he wanted, and when I wouldn't, he tried to take it anyway." Calvin couldn't believe his ears, his jaw somewhat slack. "And you never told anyone?" he asked. "Why would I? They'd never believe me," Rachel replied, "but let me tell ya, ever since then, I never want anyone to expect anything of me, nor do I want to put any effort into anything. I've seen where both of those can lead you, and I don't wanna go back there." "Well," Calvin said, finishing his coffee and wiping his mouth on his sleeve, "I'll add him to the list of people to blow up then." Rachel laughed at this joke, fully unaware Calvin actually meant it. *** Rachel didn't see Kelly again after that night until the night of the reunion, and judging by Kelly's reaction to her, she'd either forgiven or outright forgotten the last conversation they'd had. When she arrived back upstairs in her apartment that night, Rachel thought about what Calvin had said, about how being alone wasn't all it was cracked up to be, and despite admitting he was right in some regards, she couldn't allow herself to become involved with anyone. Hell, this weird pseudo-friendship she had with him was tough enough to manage. Rachel took a shower, then made something for dinner. As she watched TV while eating, her thoughts turned to Sun Rai. Despite the way she felt, she couldn't deny the fact that she had gone to that reunion solely to see Sun again. She did obviously want to have that human connection, she couldn't deny it, no matter what she might've told Calvin. The fact that she yearned to see Sun said it all. She still had romance within her, even in light of what had happened to her. Rachel finished eating and laid back on the couch, then reached to the end table and picked up the cordless phone. She dialed a number and lifted the receiver to her ear, listening to it ring. "Hello?" Calvin answered. "What're you doing?" Rachel asked. "Just working on a project," he replied. "Can I come over?" Rachel asked, and after a moment of silence that she took as apparent hesitation, he said yes, then gave her his parents address. *** "Nice place," Rachel said upon arriving, making Calvin smile. "Yeah, it has its charm," he said, opening the back gate and letting her follow him, as he added, "I'm surprised you wanted to hang out." "Well, I was just thinking about what we were discussing and I guess you're right, I didn't wanna be completely alone. I only went to that stupid reunion to see someone, and she didn't even show up, so," Rachel said. "Glad to be a fallback," Calvin said, making her smirk as they approached the shed; he opened the door and walked inside, letting her follow him in. Her face took on an immediate change of both intense curiosity and mild confusion. "Are you an engineer or something?" she asked, half laughing. "Naw," Calvin said, "this is just what I've been working on for the last few months." "What...what is this?" Rachel asked, approaching the table and looking down at the device Calvin was building. "It's a bomb," he said. "Really? That's pretty cool," Rachel said, "...why are you building a bomb? Just for kicks?" "Because I'm going to blow someone up." Rachel looked at Calvin, and Calvin looked at Rachel, and after a moment or so, she nodded. "Alright," she said, "So, tell me, who we killing?"
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Calvin Klepper was sitting on the couch in his parents living room.
It was busy, people circling all around the room, talking in low hushed voices, barely audible, but he took no mind to them. A few people stopped and tried to give him a refreshment, a drink or a snack, but he politely declined each time. He sat there and he didn't say a single word the entire time, and after the wake was over, Calvin stayed there late into the evening, well after his parents had gone to bed. Eventually he fell asleep on the couch, and the next morning, he woke to his mother making breakfast. He ate, then he drove to his well paying job, quit on the spot and headed to a local hardware store. Calvin bought a handful of various items, piled them all into his trunk and then drove back to his parents house. He outfitted their shed in the backyard with his new purchases, creating a small workshop of sorts, and he told them he'd be back in a bit. Calvin Klepper then drove to his apartment, told his landlord he wouldn't need the space anymore, and that he'd be moving back in with his folks. Calvin moved back into his childhood bedroom, did some light redecorating, and then, when his folks were asleep, he went back out to the shed, and he got to work. *** "Say cheese!" Calvin's mother, Amelia, said, snapping a picture. Calvin and his soon to be wife smiled, and then kissed after the photo was taken. Amelia turned away to speak to Calvin's father, Barry, momentarily, while allowed Calvin's wife, Stacy, to look at Calvin and straighten his tie. "Do I look okay?" Calvin asked, and Stacy smiled. "You look fantastic," she said quietly, patting his cheek, "did you trim your beard?" "Yeah, hah, I figured it should be somewhat presentable," Calvin said, "After all, we only get one wedding." "Unless I leave you and you remarry," Stacy said, "Not that I plan on doing that, but you never know. I might run into a celebrity, and I'm sorry baby, but you just can't compete with the likes of Brendan Fraser." "Oh I don't blame you, I'd leave you for Brendan too," Calvin said, making her laugh. Calvin had waited for this day for so long. As he watched Stacy be whisked away by his mother, so she could help prepare the flower girl - a sweet little neighbor girl named Annie - Calvin watched her and felt a warmth inside of him that nothing else in his whole life had ever given him. Calvin had met Stacy in college, but the two of them stayed friends until their last year, when she suddenly showed up to his dorm room one night because she heard the music he'd been playing from a party down the hall, and it turned out to be her favorite band. The two stayed in his dorm the entire night, just talking about music and themselves, and went to breakfast the next morning. They were seriously involved less than a week later. Stacy had chestnut colored hair and almond colored eyes, both differing shades of brown but both so beautiful, and each seemed to glitter when the light hit them. She had majored in nursing, hoping to get a job as a school nurse, which Calvin found sweet. Soon they had an apartment together, and shortly after that, Stacy was pregnant. A year later, they had a pair of twin baby girls named Chelsea and Lacie, and Calvin finally realized what he'd been longing for his entire life...fatherhood. He could still recall the day they were born, and he stood there looking at her while Stacy got some sleep. He promised he'd never let anything happen to them, or his wife either, really. Sadly, Calvin would find out, that was a harder promise to keep than he expected. *** Calvin was sitting in his car, a pair of binoculars strung around his neck, as he waited. He sighed and checked his watch again. After so many months, you'd think he would've known this mans schedule by now, but no. He was still guessing, at best. He picked up his book on the seat beside him, the one he'd gotten from the local library, and started skimming it again. He wanted to have everything perfect. Then he heard a door slam shut, and he quickly dropped the book, raised the binoculars to his eyes and watched. There he was. Robert Grudin. Clean cut, nice suit, approachable haircut, perfect smile. Bastard. Absolute bastard. Swore up and down he was running on a platform that was meant to help keep the streets safe, keep families afloat, but Calvin knew it was all just a lie. He waited until he saw Grudin disappear into the building he'd parked in front of, then quickly got out of his car, raced across the street and knelt down, taking measurements. He pulled the pencil from his teeth, jotting numbers down in a little notepad, then once he was finished, shoved the measuring tape back in his pants pocket and headed back for his car, taking off before Grudin ever reemerged. Halfway home he spotted a "Choosin' Grudin!" sign plunged into someones lawn, and, his blood beginning to boil, he quickly pulled off to the curb, hopped out, raced up to the lawn and yanked the post from the dirt. He then walked back to the street and bashed it against the curb and his car until the entire thing lay in tatters. Satisfied at his destruction, Calvin then climbed back into his car and headed home. He'd chosen Grudin, all right. He just hadn't chosen him to be elected. *** "Can I help you?" a voice asked, making Calvin jump in his skin a little as he turned in the aisle, spotting Wyatt's face. Wyatt didn't recognize him, that was for sure. Calvin scratched his forehead and blinked a few times before speaking. "Yeah I'm...I'm looking for a fertilizer, a certain kind, immodium nitrate," Calvin said, his voice sounding hoarse, like he'd spent the entire day screaming. "For sure, we have that. You redoing your backyard, or is this something or a job?" Wyatt asked, leading Calvin down towards another aisle, adding, "I only ask because it's not generally the one people buy to do small gardening around their home. We have much nicer stuff." "You work here?" "I own this place," Wyatt said, grinning, "Well, my dad owns it, but I basically own it now. He's long since retired and leaves me to do everything." "Good gig." "Not a bad life, no." "...yeah, I'm in landscaping," Calvin said, lying, "I need quite a bit of it, maybe all you got." "Doing a large project?" Wyatt asked. "Country club," Calvin said. "Well, then we got you covered," Wyatt said. Wyatt helped Calvin pick out his bags, and even helped him load them to his car. Standing there in the parking lot afterwards, Wyatt patted the trunk and then shook Calvin's hand, still smiling like an idiot. "Good luck on your job, man. If you need anything else, come back and I'll see what I can do," he said. Calvin wondered why he'd been so concerned about seeing Wyatt at the reunion now. He hadn't even recognized him. Why would he, anyway. It wasn't like they were friends. Wyatt had been somewhat kind to Calvin in high school, but more often than not he'd also antagonized him quite a bit, and that left Calvin with some bitter memories he wished he could forget. His parents were on a small vacation to see his aunt a few hours away, so Calvin had the house to himself for a bit. He decided he would need caffeine in order to get some of this job done, staying up so late, so he pulled off into yet another parking lot, hoping to get some coffee. Calvin entered the coffee shop, and waited in line. When he finally got to the front, he was surprised to see, of all people, Rachel Minnow standing on the opposite side of the counter from him. She was in an apron with a dorky little hat, and she immediately recognized him. "I didn't know you worked here," Calvin said, "I swear I'm not a stalker." "Please, stalk me, make my life more interesting," Rachel replied, monotone, "What do you want?" "Uh, large plain black, and some kind of muffin if you have any," he said. "We have blueberry, raspberry, strawberry, peach, apple-" Rachel said, quickly listing them off until he interrupted her. "I just want a muffin, I don't wanna start a fuckin' farm," he said, making her smirk. "Go take a seat, I'll bring your coffee and surprise you with something," Rachel said, "my break is coming up anyway." Calvin seated himself near the window, furthest away from everyone. After about 8 minutes, Rachel finally brought him his coffee and a small platter of different muffins. She seated herself across from him and had a cup of coffee for herself too. She picked up a muffin and took a bite, watching as he sipped his coffee. "Weren't you like, a successful artist?" Calvin asked, "Didn't you get accepted to like a really prestigious art academy?" "Wow, bring up my failings immediately, cool," Rachel said, "Cause I don't think about those enough on a daily basis." "Sorry," Calvin said, laughing, "I didn't...I'm not good at talking to people, even people I've already met. I'm just kinda surprised to see you working in like a half assed coffee shop. Hey, you're not the only one, alright? I failed plenty." "Good to know I'm in the presence of such spectacular failing company," Rachel said, smirking, taking another bite of her muffin and eating it before continuing; "I just...I was, yeah, I was accepted, and I went. And uh, I was doing pretty well, getting noticed by agents and even galleries during student presentation weeks, but it didn't really pan out." "...how's being an artist not pan out? I mean, aren't you kind of your own boss?" Calvin asked. "Uh, because about 3 years in, I tried to drive my car off a bridge," Rachel said, "I should explain, it wasn't...it wasn't intentional, at least I don't think. I was given medication for a few different medical issues, and I guess they didn't really mix well, and then I went to this really fancy gallery show one night and I drank a little and that only exacerbated the issues all the more and before I knew it I was heading home and I kind of...fell asleep at the wheel, I think? I don't know if it's a dream or I hallucinated. I saw this...this totally strange looking horse standing in the road, and you could see through his skin, and you could see his skeleton and his insides and...I don't know, the next thing I know I was being taken to the hospital and people thought I was suicidal and that was the end of school." "Jesus," Calvin mumbled, sipping his coffee, "that's horrific." "I fucking hate horses," Rachel said under her breath, "annyyyywaay, what about you? How'd you fuck up so badly?" "...actually I didn't," Calvin said, "I was doing great. For as shitty an adolescence as I had, as terrible as high school was, I actually flourished in college. Met a woman, got married, had two daughters. Things were...kind of perfect, storybook life." "And what, you don't have any of that anymore?" Rachel asked. "...no," Calvin said, "no I don't." "But you didn't do anything to make them leave?" Rachel asked, raising an eyebrow. "No, I didn't," Calvin said, "...someone else did." This only made Rachel all the more curious, but she decided not to push it, and instead she changed the subject. *** Calvin was making dinner that night. He was making his wifes favorite dinner, and he already had the table settings placed. He was humming along to the song blasting out the radio in the kitchen, and was just about to take the meal out of the oven when the phone rang. He picked up. "Hello?" he asked, expecting Stacy, but it wasn't Stacy; he waited then replied, "...yes, this is Calvin Klepper, why?" Calvin couldn't really remember much after that. He remembered dropping the phone, hearing it break. He remembered the sound of the timer on the oven blasting away, indicating his meal was burning, and he remembered falling slowly to this knees, panting, clawing his way to a wall until he slid further down, finally laying facedown on the kitchen floor. Eventually his neighbor in the apartment next door came over to see if he was okay, and when she finally got him off the floor and he told her he needed help, she agreed to drive him. It was over so quickly, they told him. Stacy and the girls probably didn't even suffer, because it was so fast, so swift, so headon. When Calvin learned that a local potential politician was responsible for the accident, he was told there'd be justice. He was told that somebody of this caliber couldn't get away with something so horrific, and he'd stupidly believed them. What was he thinking? Of course famous people could get away with anything. And then, the clincher, a few weeks later during a press conference was when he heard the very same man who'd killed his family - who never took any blame for this act whatsoever - say out loud that he'd buckle down on public intoxication, and that families had a right to safe streets. That was what pushed Calvin over the edge. Later that night, still stewing in rage from the hypocrisy, he stumbled onto a show on the History network all about bombs, and that lit an idea within his brain. Yes. That was the night Calvin Klepper decided he would blow up Robert Grudin. *** Calvin was standing outside the classroom, reading a book as he waited for the door to unlock and class to begin. He heard a few other students join the area, but he didn't pay any attention to them. It wasn't until he heard a backpack be set down right next to him that he finally looked up, only to see Wyatt Bloom standing there, leaning against the wall. Wyatt grinned. "Isn't this cool, man?" Wyatt asked. "...what?" Calvin asked. "Shop class, dude," Wyatt said, "Like, all the tools and stuff. Get to learn how to bend metal and make it do whatever we want. It's gonna be sick." Wyatt then offered Calvin some gum, which he graciously accepted, unwrapping and popping it into his mouth, chewing. "My dad owns like a hardware store, and so I get to hang out there a lot and look at all the tools, and some of them look so dangerous, but you just know they're fun. I'm gonna make a buncha stuff," Wyatt said, chewing his own stick of gum before adding, "Wouldn't it be cool to make something unexpected though? Like, make a bomb or something?" Calvin nodded. "Yes. It would be cool to make a bomb," he replied. *** Calvin awoke in his parents shed the following morning, having fallen asleep at the table he was working at. He stretched, yawned, then stood up. He grabbed the now empty coffee cup on the table near him and shook it, before thinking. Calvin headed inside, and he took a shower, then he got dressed, then he went to the coffee shop. When he entered, he saw Rachel sitting at a table, reading a magazine. Calvin sauntered over to her and plopped himself down in the chair across from her, surprising her. "Oh, hey," she said, "What're you doing here? It's really early." "...you wanna go get some breakfast?" Calvin asked. "I guess, my shift doesn't start for like another hour," Rachel said, checking her watch, "But sure, let's do that." Calvin drove Rachel to a nearby diner, where they sat in a booth and ordered. He offered to pay for everything. Sitting there, Rachel couldn't imagine why this weird guy she barely knew from high school was asking her to breakfast, but she did at least feel as though it wasn't for any romantic kind of reasons. "So," Calvin said, putting his menu down, "You ever meet up with Sun?" "No, she never showed," Rachel replied, "I was stupid to think she would. I just...I guess I thought she might, and that'll teach me to ever have hope." "Hah," Calvin chuckled, "Why did you wanna see her so bad anyway? You guys weren't really friends, right, you said it yourself." "I..." Rachel stammered, unsure of what to say, until she started sniffling, making Calvin reach across the table and hold her hand; she finally managed to say, "...I was so in love with her, and it's never gone away. I just wanted to see her again. See how well she's doing. See if maybe she...I don't know. It's so hard to be unable to be with a person you care about so much." Calvin nodded, saying, "Yeah, I know what you mean." So Calvin and Rachel ate their breakfast, talked for a bit, and he took her back to work. They agreed to hang out again soon, before Calvin headed back to his parents house. He locked the door once back inside the shed, an entire palette of coffee cups in a brown styrofoam holder placed on the table beside all his tools and effort. He sighed and looked back at the photo on the wall, running his fingers across it. Tears rolled down his cheeks. He had to do this. For everyone who'd ever had someone taken away from them, in one way or another. Calvin set up his materials and got back to work on his bomb. Grudin had promised that he'd make the streets safer, and Calvin was going to hold him to that promise. The way Calvin saw it... ...by removing Grudin entirely, the streets would be safer. Wednesday night, 9pm. The kids were asleep, and it was now time for Wyatt and Scarlett's weekly scheduled sexual encounter. Scarlett, on her back - her thighs wrapped around Wyatt's hips - was moaning loudly into the sock she'd stuffed in her mouth, while Wyatt worked as best as he could to keep her happy. She gripped the sock, removed it and started talking.
"Come on, come on, give it to me," Scarlett whispered sensually, winking up at him. "Give what to you?" Wyatt asked, grunting, sweat running down his forehead. "You know what," she replied. "I...wha...a...a venereal disease?" Wyatt asked, squinting, making Scarlett crack up. She started laughing so hard that she pushed him off of her and rolled onto her side, doubling over in laughter. Wyatt rolled onto his back and stared up at the ceiling, his feet up on the pillow near her head. He smirked, and rested his hands on his chest as she rolled back onto her back and stared up at the ceiling, running her nails up his leg next to her head. "Do you remember the first time we had sex?" Scarlett asked, and Wyatt nodded. "Yeah, I do," he said, "that was my first time. I was nervous because you were so beautiful, and I didn't wanna ruin your makeup." "Awww, you're so dorky," Scarlett said, chuckling and kissing his ankle. Wyatt turned and climbed up, lying beside her, running his hands through her reddish blonde hair, losing his fingers in its depth as he looked in her eyes. "I still worry about that," he said quietly. "Really?" she asked. "Yeah, you always look so perfect," Wyatt said, "I just...don't wanna ruin that." He shut his eyes and rested, as Scarlett stared at his face. This face she'd seen every single day for the last 15 years almost. So familiar, so comforting. She didn't know what she'd do if she had to face even a single day without his face in her presence. She buried her face into his neck and pulled his arms around her. He squeezed her gently, and she smiled. Scarlett Bloom had it really good. The following morning, Wyatt was sitting at the breakfast table reading the newspaper. His almost 11 year old daughter was sitting at the table, tapping her spoon on her cereal bowl, and it was starting to grate on his nerves. He sighed, lowered the newspaper and looked at her. "Alright, what?" he finally asked. "I'm tired of cereal," Mona said, "I want something different." "Well there's an entire pantry of breakfast food in the kitchen, just pick something," Wyatt said, "Have a poptart if you want." "Mommy won't let me have poptarts for breakfast, she says they're too sugary," Mona said, sitting back and crossing her arms in annoyance. Wyatt glanced at her, his brow furrowing, as he leaned forward. "Really?" he asked, making her nod; he looked towards the staircase, knowing Scarlett was in the shower, before looking back at his daughter and adding, "well, mom's not in charge of breakfast today. I am, and I think poptarts are on the menu." Mona squealed, then raced from the table to the kitchen. Wyatt smiled to himself as he went back to reading his paper and sipping his coffee. Scarlett hurried down the stairs about 10 minutes later, drying her hair with a towel as she kissed Mona's head, who was by then seated back at the table eating her poptart. Scarlett patted Wyatt on the shoulder and leaned down beside him. "Evan isn't feeling well," she said. "Does he have a fever?" "Yeah, so I'm thinking if you'll run Mona into school on your way into work, I can stay behind and look over him," Scarlett said. Wyatt nodded and kissed her hand, telling Mona to finish her poptart and get her backpack. As he piled his daughter and himself into the car, Wyatt couldn't help but look around his small, safe neighborhood and exhale deeply as he watched a long line of other parents - all of whom looked exactly like him and Scarlett, who lived in houses just like theirs, with children just like theirs - do the same thing. Was this all there was to life after school? Wyatt climbed into the car and started it up, fastening his seatbelt, waiting for Mona to buckle hers before he pulled out of the driveway. He dropped Mona off at school, waited until he saw her get indoors, and then headed downtown towards the office. When he showed up, he headed straight for his office, mostly so he could check his messages, but as soon as he was inside, he heard his secretary knocking lightly on the door as she entered, a bad habit he'd yet to break her of. He smiled up at her as she walked in cautiously. "Sir, Peterson is in Conference Room B, and says he needs you to join him," she said, "there's a guest here to see you two." "...a guest?" Wyatt asked, confused, "alright sure, thank you Winona." Wyatt checked his work messages, made a quick phone call and then headed down the hall to conference room b. Upon entrance, he was surprised not just to find Peterson looking worried, but also to see their guest, sitting there calmly as could be...none other than Celia Moss. *** Scarlett had never in her life expected to be a stay at home mom. She had never really given up on the idea of being a parent, in fact she'd always assumed she would be, but she also had never really counted on being the kind of parent who stayed home and took care of the kids, and more the kind of parent who paid someone to do that sort of work while she went to a high profile business somewhere. But once she had the kids, she found she didn't really trust anyone to watch the kids other than herself and her husband. Well, and their usual babysitter. Evan was napping, having taken some cold medicine, so Scarlett might have been playing "stay at home mom", but she found today she had quite a bit of alone time on her hands. She figured she'd tidy up the house a bit, and maybe get some reading done. Lately she'd been reading awful romance novels, mostly because she didn't seem to have the concentration for anything more genuine, but it was good enough for the time being. Lying on the couch, baby monitor on the coffee table beside her, Scarlett was chewing on her lip as she read when she heard a knock at the door. Scarlett was somewhat surprised, as she hadn't been expecting anyone. Nonetheless, she got up and went to answer it, only to find Wyatt's mom on the porch. "Oh," Scarlett said, genuinely unprepared to see her, "Priscilla, what are you doing here?" "I actually need to borrow your sewing machine," Priscilla said, "if that's okay. I'm trying to alter some curtains I've been working on, and mine jammed up. I remember you used to make Mona's Halloween costumes when she was little, and so I figured-" She heard a little moan come from the baby monitor and glanced at it, then back at Scarlett. "Is someone here?" she whispered. "It's Evan, he doesn't feel well, and you don't have to whisper, he can't hear you through it," Scarlett said, trying not to laugh, "and yeah, you can absolutely use my sewing machine. Come in. I'll have to dig it out, it's in the garage at the moment because I haven't used it in ages." Priscilla followed Scarlett further into the house, and through the kitchen to the door that led into the garage. Scarlett put her book down on the kitchen table before entering the garage, and Priscilla stole a quick glance at it the book before following Scarlett into the garage. "Everything okay between you two?" Priscilla asked. "What?" Scarlett asked as she dragged a small stepladder to a shelf and started climbing it. "In my experience the only women who read awful romance novels are the ones who are unsatisfactorily pleased with their marriage," Priscilla said, making Scarlett laughed. "No, god, it's just something to waste some time in," Scarlett said, "Wyatt and I are perfectly fine. I would like to get back to reading more complex literature, I just...I don't have the time or patience, and I'm always so fried after being with the kids, so I just don't have a very good attention span anymore. This at least keeps my hobby alive in some way, so maybe one day I can get to the stuff I actually wanna read." "You won't," Priscilla said, surprising Scarlett, who - while gripping her sewing machine and trying to scoot it towards her off the shelf - looked over her shoulder at her mother in law, a grimace on her face. "What?" "You won't ever get to it," Priscilla said, "you'll lose all your hobbies. I did. Every woman does. We like to pretend we don't, maybe by keeping them alive vicariously through our children, but in the end we're all just moms and nothing else. It sounds hopelessly depressing, I know, but you get used to it. Just be glad you and Wyatt still like one another. That's more than most couples have." "Uh, thanks for the concern," Scarlett said, climbing down the stepladder and handing her the sewing machine now, "but I still have hobbies and I don't intend to lose them simply because I chose to pop out a few kids. I was having problems concentrating on reading well before I had children." "I'm just letting you know what happened to me, and so many of my friends," Priscilla said, taking the sewing machine, then asking, "when do you need this back?" "You know what, why don't you keep it for a while," Scarlett said with a smile. Anything to keep Priscilla from coming back anytime soon. *** "I'm representing a nature conservation society, specifically one interested in defending the rights of an endangered insect, whose main habitat just happens to be where you're interested in logging, leveling and constructing on soon," Celia said, opening a file and sliding two pieces of paper - both identical - to Peterson and Wyatt. Wyatt took the paper and started skimming it, his lips reading silently; Celia continued, "We're willing to not move forward with court proceedings, granted you give us adequate time to perhaps relocate enough of the species." "...that sounds fair," Wyatt said, surprising Peterson, who looked at him in near disbelief. Wyatt had been brought onto the board at his young age because he was a shark, and he often took these kinds of people to town for the sake of the company, saving them face. "I figured you'd understand," Celia said, smiling, "We'll have another proposal ready for you in a few weeks. I have to get going, your firm is one of the few I have to stop at today and serve papers to." Celia stood up, pulling her purse onto her shoulder, as Wyatt quickly stood up and followed her out of the room. "Let me walk you to the elevator," Wyatt said. Wyatt and Celia headed down the hallway, and stopped at the elevator, where Wyatt pushed a button, calling it to their floor. "I didn't know you worked here," Celia said after a moment, "believe me, this didn't give me some kind of perverse pleasure or anything. Honestly, if anything it just made me feel worse, because after our talk at the reunion, you don't seem like the kind of person whose out for oil and industry." "I'm honestly, not, I only have the job I have because my father was friends with the chairman," Wyatt replied, "and it pays well, and I have to make good money to afford to take care of two kids and a wife, so. You ever think about the irony in your last name associated with your line of work?" Celia chuckled, nodding as the elevator doors opened and they stepped inside; she pushed the main floor button and said, "Actually yes, all the time, it's one of the few things people realize about me pretty quickly. You know, your last name is Bloom, that could also work well in my line of work, given how much effort we put into saving flora and fauna." "Heh, yeah, sure, but I can't just switch careers at the drop of a dime," Wyatt said, "it would raise too many eyebrows, and in the suburbs you need to remain as unremarkable and disinteresting as possible to your neighbors, otherwise you run the risk of their kids alienating your kids, which in turn makes your kids hate you." Celia suddenly pushed the emergency stop button and turned towards Wyatt. She started digging through her purse and pulled out a card, handing it to him. "This is my personal business card. Call me when you find yourself sick of the suburbs, the fake plasticity of it all, and decide you wanna do something more with your life. And believe me, that moment will come. Ignoring your dissatisfaction only gets you so far, trust me on that." Wyatt slipped the card into his back pants pocket and looked at her, confused. "...do you have kids, Celia?" "Yeah, a son," she replied, hitting the button so the elevator would continue its decline. "So you know what it's like to do something you dislike so your kids can have a good life then?" Wyatt asked and Celia, not looking at him, bit her lip. "I did," she said, "before I left my husband. Women put up with a lot when they're married, and almost always silently and alone. You and Scarlett seem happy, but trust me, she's grappling with it too. Eventually everyone wants something a little more than what they have, even if what they have feels perfect. Contrary to popular belief, perfection isn't unattainable, but it is unsustainable." The elevator came to a stop and the doors slid open. Celia looked at Wyatt and smiled again. "See you soon," Celia said, shaking his hand before leaving. *** When Wyatt got home that evening, having stopped off to bring dinner in, he found Scarlett lying facedown on the couch in the living room, her face muffled against a pillow. He set his briefcase and then the bag full of food on the coffee table before standing and looking down at her. "You okay, mopey?" he asked. "Do you think I'm anything other than a mom? Do you still see me as a person?" Scarlett asked, and Wyatt sat down on the arm on the couch, running his hand up her back. "Of course I do," he said, "what makes you think you're not?" "Your mom," Scarlett said, somewhat muffled by the pillow. "Well okay, you don't have to tell me, but insults from the early 2000s doesn't help," Wyatt said, making her laugh. "No, literally, your mother," Scarlett said, rolling her head to the side so her face was visible now, looking up at him, "she stopped by today to borrow my sewing machine and she told me how she and all her peers just exist in the shadow of their former selves. How all women eventually lose who they were, lose their hobbies and interest, and just...are nothing but mothers." "Yeah well, my mother might not be the best voice of reason when it comes to how women turn out. After all, she she bought into the whole spandex exercise tape fad of the 80s, so," Wyatt said, "Anyone who fell for that automatically loses their credibility in my eyes." Scarlett sat up and pulled her knees to her chest, sniffling, smiling at him. "What did you bring for dinner?" "Thai food, and I brought you a box of eclairs," Wyatt said softly, kissing her nose. "The kids are asleep," Scarlett said, "Do you wanna eat down here and talk about our respective days?" "That sounds disgustingly wholesome," Wyatt said, chuckling, "I would love to do that." So Wyatt and Scarlett bloom ate their dinner, and their desserts, and they talked about their day. Scarlett told Wyatt all about his mothers visit, about how she and Evan eventually read some storybooks when he was feeling better, and Wyatt told her about his day at work, which was fairly uneventful. But he didn't tell her about Celia. For whatever reason, a reason even he himself couldn't fathom, that was something he wanted to keep to himself. And Celia, that night, was reading her son his favorite bedtime story. Once he fell asleep, she turned on his motion lamp that threw lighted silhouettes of dinosaurs on the walls of his bedroom. She kissed his head and then headed to her own bedroom. She got into her pajamas and climbed into her bed, picking up a book from her nightstand and flipping to her bookmarked section. But she couldn't read. She found herself increasingly distracted by the idea of working with Wyatt. No, she thought, no. The last thing she needed to complicate her life was romance with a married man. She'd worry about that another day. Wyatt Bloom was standing downstairs, leaning against the rail, picking at his tie as their babysitter, Gracie, stood beside him. He sighed and let go of his tie before looking at Gracie.
"What do you think of this tie?" he asked, "Does this say 'casual' or 'competitive'? I wanna come across as friendly, approachable, not intimidating." "Please, like you've ever been intimidating," Scarlett shouted down from the bathroom, making Wyatt and Gracie laugh. "I think it's nice," Gracie said, shrugging, "It's very colorful. I don't think it says approachable or intimidating, I think it just says....fun." "I'll take fun, people like fun," Wyatt said, running his hand up his neck into his scruffy short dirty blonde hair; he checked his watch and snapped his fingers, "Come on woman, we're gonna be late! I realize we're going back to highschool, but that doesn't mean you have to put as much effort into your appearance as you used to!" "Screw you!" Scarlett shouted down again. "Did you and Mrs. Bloom meet in high school?" Gracie asked, and Wyatt nodded. "Oh yeah, we've been together for a long time," Wyatt said, "I remember the first time I saw her face." *** In fact, the first time Wyatt Bloom saw Scarlett Demure's face, it was in the nurses office. Wyatt was on the baseball team and had pulled his shoulder, while Scarlett, being a cheerleader, had fallen off the top of the pyramid and onto her nose on the ground. As Wyatt entered, he was instantly taken aback by the beautiful blonde sitting in a chair, holding an ice pack to her nose. He took a seat beside her, groaning as he shifted to relieve tension in his muscle. "What happened to you?" he asked, making her shake her head. "Carla Mikoni can't hold anything over her head, that's what," Scarlett said. "Not surprised, she's so thin she makes anorexia jealous," Wyatt said, making Scarlett laugh and immediately apologize for laughing, which made Wyatt smirk; he added, "That was in poor taste, sorry. Still, something wrong with that girl. She's like a bird." "You should hear her talk," Scarlett said. "No thank you," Wyatt replied. "What about you? What're you in for?" Scarlett asked. "I pulled my shoulder pitching," Wyatt said, "But it'll be fine. I just need to sit a few days out. Let me see your nose." Scarlett hesitated, then reluctantly pulled the ice pack away, showing off her nose, which really looked okay except for the stained blood. Wyatt shrugged and leaned back into his seat. "I think you look fine," he said, "But I'd love to see you with a good nose to really make a proper comparison." And that was all it took to make Scarlett love him. For some people, sometimes it really was that simple. *** Sitting in the car, driving towards the high school, Wyatt tapped his fingers on the steering wheel while Scarlett primped at her hair in the rearview mirror. He scoffed as he turned to see this behavior, laughing a little, which made her grimace. "Don't even judge, buddy. You have no idea how seriously women take these sorts of reunions. It's all about the looks department. Nobody cares how well a woman has done in the business world, alright? If she isn't moderately attractive still, then she's lost all her credibility." "Wait, what...you're telling me you have credibility?" Wyatt asked, "I am shocked! Why wasn't I made aware of this?" She laughed and slapped his arm. "More credibility than you these days," she said. "Can't argue with that," he replied, before adding, "...so who do you think is gonna be at this thing? You think everyone's gonna be there? I can't really imagine there being a lot of people I'm looking forward to seeing that I didn't bother staying in touch with." "I'm sure there's some folks we'll be happy to see, like Robbie," Scarlett said, "Remember Robbie? He was the only male cheerleader in the whole group. I've always wondered what he got up to, and I always regretted never staying in touch with him." "God, I'd forgotten about Robbie, honestly," Wyatt said, "That would be fun." Honestly, Wyatt hadn't really been all that interested in returning to the high school. He'd long since moved on, and had grown somewhat ashamed of who he'd once been, and how he'd treated certain people while he'd been there. He was worried returning might bring some of that person back, and that genuinely frightened him. But Scarlett was excited to go, and she wouldn't go without him, so he did it as a favor to his wife. She was his best friend, after all. He'd do anything to make her happy. *** Rachel Minnow sat in her car in the school parking lot, staring ahead at the auditorium, wanting go turn and run instead of getting out and going inside. She didn't want to be here, but she desperately wanted to see someone, and this was the only way she could do so without feeling like an outright stalker. She checked her lipstick one more time in the mirror before getting out of the car and heading towards the building. The music was already too loud, and she wasn't even inside yet. She was starting to wish she'd brought a pair of earplugs or headphones, but somehow that would seem rude, even though that sort of behavior was totally normal as teenagers when they went here. Go figure. She cleared her throat as she approached the door and pushed it open, the light inside blinding her as she stepped over the threshold and into the room. Just like high school, nobody turned to look when she entered, and she was grateful for that. She walked in, somewhat stumbling in her heels, looking all around for the person she was hoping to see. As she pushed some errant strands of hair out of her face, she suddenly bumped into a tall, lanky man, who turned to look at her. "Oh, I'm so sorry," Rachel said, "I didn't make you spill your drink did I?" "Rachel?" the man asked, smiling, "It's me, Oliver Brighton, remember?" "...I...no, I'm sorry, I don't remember," Rachel said, chewing her lip, "I'm sorry." "Eh, it's fine, it's been a long time," Oliver said, adjusting his small glasses and lifting up his drink, sipping it, "didn't expect to see you, honestly." "Really? Why's that?" "I don't know," Oliver said, shrugging, "You were always sort of a loner, just didn't expect you to show up for a major social function filled with people who treated you poorly. But, then again, I'm here, and I was treated worse than you, so." Rachel nodded, pulling at her hair as she looked around for the one person she was here to see. For all she cared, Oliver could be talking to the wall, because she was barely registering anything coming out of his mouth. She started to move through the crowd again, Oliver keeping up pace with her. "Actually, I remember we were in home ec together, and we were teamed up once to make a set of curtains," Oliver said, "Do you...do you remember that?" Rachel stopped, and then turned, looking at him. "Actually I do, yeah," she said, "I still have those. They're hanging over my window in my apartment." "Really? That's awesome to hear!" Oliver said, sounding genuinely thrilled. "Oliver?" Rachel asked, "Do you know if Sun Rai is here? Have you seen her anywhere?" "...no, can't say that I have, sorry," Oliver said, sounding dejected, adding, "but I can help you look for her if you'd like." "That's okay, I'll do fine on my own. It was nice seeing you," Rachel said, now slinking away into the crowd, leaving Oliver to stand alone. As she made her way to one of the many refreshments tables, she bumped elbows with another woman standing there, and immediately recognized the charm bracelet dangling from her wrist. Rachel groaned and mumbled, "oh no" under her breath as the woman turned towards her. "Rachel!" she said, grabbing and hugging her firmly. "Hello Kelly," Rachel managed to say back, trying not to feel embarrassed. *** Calvin Klepper was sitting in on a small stairway right outside of the school near the backdoor of the auditorium, trying to escape the noise and commotion. He sighed and stroked his short beard, wishing he could be home right now. He pulled his wallet out and flipped it open, letting the pictures hang down like an accordian. He smiled faintly, and suddenly felt tears rolling down his face. He wiped them away swiftly with his sleeve, before collapsing his wallet again and stuffing it back into his coat pocket. Just then he saw a pair of headlights pull into the parking lot, and watched as a nice car parked, and two adults stepped out. He instantly recognized Wyatt Bloom's voice, despite not having heard it in so many years. He could hear the woman, whom he recognized just as quickly as being Scarlett, laugh loudly, and watched as the two of them headed for the auditorium. He shook his head and continued to drink from his thermos full of coffee. The last person he'd want to see would be Wyatt Bloom. *** Rachel couldn't stand being squeezed this tightly, and struggled to pull away from Kelly Schuester's grip. After she finally managed to wriggle away, she stepped back and, politely, patted Kelly on the shoulder like an awkward family reunion with someone you hadn't seen since you were a baby. "It's so good to see you!" Kelly said. Kelly, from the looks of things, hadn't changed. She still somehow had braces, and her hair was still in braided pigtails. She looked exactly the same as she had when she and Rachel had been friends in school. Rachel had tried not to be so judgemental but it was hard, because here she was, thinking that Kelly apparently even still had her parents dress her, considering how awful her outfit was. "Gee, you look exactly the same!" Kelly said, looking embarrassed now for having been so clingy. "Uh, same to you," Rachel replied, trying to make her response not sound as harsh as she meant it to. "I'm sorry, I was just...I was really hoping you'd show up, and until I saw you, I was doubting myself for even coming," Kelly said, "I mean, it's not like anyone else here is interested in seeing me, but I knew if you at least showed up, then it would've been worth it." Okay, now Rachel felt bad. She actually hadn't even really not expected Kelly to be here, it was more that she'd completely forgotten about her altogether. Rachel quickly looked around for a way to escape from this torturous experience, only to spot the backdoor. She bit her lip and then looked back at Kelly, who was digging into her purse. "You need to see this!" she said, "I brought it with just to show you!" "Kelly, that's great, get it ready and I will be right back, okay?" Rachel said, quickly excusing herself towards the backdoor. As she pushed on the metal bar across the door, it lunged forward, letting her stumble out onto the small landing near the stone stair steps, only to find herself now next to Calvin, who was looking at her in surprise. "It's hell in there, isn't it?" Calvin asked. "It's weird," Rachel managed to say as she seated herself beside him and tossed her hair back, adding, "god, I didn't expect myself to get overwhelmed like this, but it's so painful to come back to such an awful place, full of such awful people who made awful memories for you but don't remember them themself. Somehow those formative moments for you were just another average day for them." "Ran into an old friend?" Calvin asked, making her smirk. "Yeah," she said, "and it's like, I feel bad, but...that's what high school is, right? You're friends because of the proximity, because nobody else will be friends with you, right? It's friendship based on survival and necessity, not genuine interest." "Sure," Calvin said, "That's a fair assessment." "Are you waiting for someone?" Rachel asked. "Nah, I just don't wanna be in there," Calvin said, "You?" "I came for the very same reason others came. To see someone. But I haven't seen her yet, so, I don't know if she even showed up," Rachel said, sighing, tugging at her hair, playing with it absentmindedly, continuing, "besides, she wouldn't even know me, so really I'm no better than the awkward weirdos I'm trying to avoid." "I've seen everyone arrive, I could tell you if she's here or not," Calvin said. "Sun Rai? Do you remember Sun Rai? She was the Vietnamese girl who was, like, the only foreign student who attended here? She was mostly in honors classes, but she and I shared gym class, and she got to sit out cause her parents paid the gym teacher off, and I got to sit out cause of my asthma, so we talked a bit, but only during those classes." "I think I do remember her, yeah," Calvin said, "I don't think she showed up. I would've seen her, being the only foreign person to attend here. Sorry." "It's fine. It's my fault for being dumb enough to expect her to come back," Rachel said, sighing sadly, "I guess that's what I get for getting my hopes up." "That's the spirit," Calvin said, patting her back, "never expect anything good, cause reality will come and snatch it away." Calvin's attitude at least made Rachel feel a bit better, being rather cynical herself. Rachel didn't want to go back inside to Kelly, so she opted instead to stay out here with Calvin and just talk shit about their former classmates, because as she'd learned during her friendship with Kelly, misery loves company. *** "What?" Scarlett asked, mouth agape, eyes wide at this news Oliver had just told them. "Yeah," Oliver said, "Robbie died in a car accident a few weeks ago, I'm surprised you guys didn't see the news." "Jesus," Wyatt said, pinching his forehead, "that's...that's tragic. I feel so bad. I was hoping he'd be here. I need a minute." Wyatt walked off, trying to process this. He hadn't expected people his age to already be dead, especially not people he'd known. He'd known it was always a possibility, but he'd always just pushed the possibility out of his head. He walked calmly through the crowd, finally reaching a table where an African American woman was seated, rubbing her feet. Wyatt said at the same table, and casually glanced over at her. "You okay?" she asked, "You need aspirin?" "No, I'll...I'll be okay. You?" he asked, pointing at her feet. "These shoes are killing me. I never get out, so I never wear any nice shoes," she said, "bad enough to have to pay for a babysitter, but now I gotta walk for hours in these stupid spiked death traps." Wyatt chuckled and looked at the nametag sticker she had on her jacket. "Celia Moss," he read, "Celia Moss...why's that name sound so familiar?" "Because I'm responsible for shutting down BigDrip last year," Celia said. "Riiiight! They dumped excess oil in nearby lakes to write it off as stolen, so not only defrauding the government but also endangering the environment, that was a big damn deal," Wyatt said, "Well good for you, those guys were scum." "Thanks," Celia said, smiling faintly, "and yes, they really were." "So you're a lawyer or something?" Wyatt asked. "An environmental lawyer, yeah," Celia said. "That's really cool." The two of them looked back out at the crowd, dancing, chatting, enjoying themselves as if they were still in high school. Wyatt loosened his tie and leaned back in his chair, crossing his legs. Celia looked over at him and nodded. "I like your tie," she said, "it's very fun, makes you very approachable." Wyatt smiled again, almost blushing now. "...I just learned a friend of mine died a few weeks ago," he said, "and it only reinforced the truth that I didn't wanna come back here. Most of these people were horrible when we were teenagers, and really they're no different as adults. They just aren't as open about it. Everyone has secrets. But...the fact that they're not as transparent is almost worse. At least when you're a teenager you almost take pride in your sleaze. You knew where everyone stood. Now I don't know who to trust, and frankly I don't feel like I'm that person anymore." "I know what you mean," Celia said, strapping her shoes back on, "I don't feel like I relate to any of these people anymore either. I feel like just an ordinary, boring adult. Just another aging skeleton on a dying planet, clawing against the ever oncoming inevitable darkness." "Jeez, Kafka," Wyatt said, "Save some edge for the rest of us." Celia laughed loudly, throwing her head back, "I just...you know what I mean!" she said, "It's like...I feel like I matured, and these people didn't. I do what has to be done now because it's the right thing to do, not because it's what I want to do. I don't do it for my own selfish needs." "Right. I wanna be a better person than I was in high school, otherwise what's the point of aging? I wanna be, just...you know, like...someone who grows, someone who learns and changes. I wanna be normal and boring and ordinary. Just one of the everyday people." Celia nodded, feeling herself warm up to him. Wyatt smiled at her, feeling shy now about conversing this freely with a stranger. He adjusted his tie, smoothing it out, looking down at his dress shoes. "Anyway, sorry to get so philosophical," he said. "It's fine. Probably the most enlightening conversation I'll have all night, so thank you," Celia said softly. And then Scarlett appeared at the table. She and Celia greeted one another politely before Celia excused herself, and Scarlett dragged Wyatt back to the crowd, to listen to more inane banter about people he'd rather have forgotten. *** On the drive home later, he looked over at his wife, half asleep in the passenger seat, somewhat tipsy from having drank most of the night, and he smiled. He reached over with his free hand and squeezed one of her hands. When they pulled into the driveway, he carried her inside and, after putting her to bed, he drove the babysitter home. When he got home, he pulled out the senior yearbook and turned to his graduating class, running his index finger along the page until he came across Celia's picture, and he smiled. That was a friendship he'd like to have. Rachel, on the other hand, had arrived home in worst shape than she'd been in when she'd left. She cried all the way home, so when she got back to her dingy studio apartment over the coffee shop she worked at, she wiped all her now running makeup off her face and then took a quick shower. She laid on the couch and turned the television on, but put it on mute. She pulled out a photo of Sun Rai she'd clipped from the school paper back in the day - Sun in a beautiful suit at a debate tournament - and felt like she wanted to throw up. She'd tried so hard to forget Sun Rai, but she never could. She loved her just as much now as she had back then. Calvin also returned home to less than stellar feelings. His folks weren't up when he got in, which he was grateful for, but he did find his mom had left him some dinner. He reheated it and ate before heading out to the shed in the backyard and locking the door behind him after entering. Once inside, he pulled out his tools and started back to work on his project, occasionally glancing up at the photo pinned on a corkboard on the wall, featuring a beautiful woman and two cute little girls. He was doing this for them, and he wouldn't them down. And Celia arrived back home to her son happy to see her, and she wasn't even annoyed he was still awake. If anything, she was grateful. She cherished any time she got to spend with him. She relieved her babysitter, and then the two of them ate ice cream in her large bed, watching cartoons until he finally fell asleep against her, and she would then carry him to his bed, tucking him in. She'd stroke his hair and kiss his forehead. At least something good had come from that marriage. And Kelly got home, only to curl up with her dog on her couch, and eat popcorn most of the evening as she watched nature documentaries. All she'd wanted to do was reconnect with her best friend, and Rachel had spent most of her time outside with Calvin. Kelly tried not to take it too personally, but it was hard not to, especially when the last thing Rachel had said to Kelly in high school had been to leave her alone because she was so lame. Stuff like that still stung so many years later. But while everyone else arrived home with quiet and uneventful feelings, Oliver's arrival at the house was anything but. His daughters were looking out their bedroom window when they saw him pull into the driveway, and they quickly rushed and piled stuffed animals under their blankets in their beds, before hiding in the closet, just like most nights. He never came in and checked to see if it was really them, which they were thankful for. They just knew that most of the time, unless it was time for them to work again, he would leave them alone. As Oliver climbed into bed, clicking his bedside lamp off, his wife, lying on her side, asked a question in the meekest voice. "Did you have a good time?" she asked. "It was fine," he said, removing his glasses and putting them on the nightstand. "That's good," she mumbled, waiting for him to drift off so she could get back up and continue coming up with a plan on how to get away from this house. Away from this man. Because truth was, the men who seemed the worst like Wyatt often grew to be the best, and the men who went out of their way to appear the best, like Oliver, were actually the monsters. Passing themselves off as your average neighbor, citizen, upstanding friend and family member. Someone you'd never expect. They didn't look like monsters. They just looked like everyday people. |
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A group of former high school classmates reunite at their 10 year reunion, and discover they each want something different, many with someone else there. What ensues is a labyrinthian relationship amongst them involving crime, murder, romance and, in one particular case, terrorism. Archives
May 2024
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