Kelly Schuester had expected that, once she got out of college, she'd never have to wake up early again. Turns out even the weathergirl has to be up at a certain time. Kelly would bathe, dress, then head to the studio so she could have her makeup professionally done before finally going live in front of the green screen. And she was a professional to boot. No matter how terrible she felt, no matter what mood she was in, she was always chipper on screen. The way she saw it, many times the first person you see for the day is the weatherperson, so she may as well put a smile on peoples faces if she could.
Today, on her lunch break, she was pulling into a parking lot and groaning. She'd done her job, she had some paperwork to do, and then she could go home and relax. She had been feeling so ill lately, she really needed a vacation, but with the convention coming up soon, she knew she'd have to wait until after that. Kelly climbed out of her car and shut the door behind her, only to be jerked back and momentarily surprised until she realized the car door had eaten one of the coat tails of her jacket. She shouted and fumbled with her car keys, electrically unlocking the door once again and pulling her coat tail violently from the doorjam before turning back and realizing she was face to face with Rachel. "....oh, hi," she said quietly. "You havin' trouble there?" Rachel said. "...my car ate my jacket," Kelly muttered, causing Rachel to burst out in laughter, which only made Kelly chuckle a little in response. "I saw you from the parking lot across the street," Rachel said, "I work at that coffee shop. I just was hoping you weren't in need of assistance." "Oh I am, just not that kind," Kelly remarked, the girls laughing again, "...are you on break?" "Yeah." "I'll buy you lunch," Kelly said, and despite Rachel slightly hesitating, she nodded in agreement. Maybe it was time to bury the hatchet. *** Wyatt had made these reservations a week before, and now he was on the phone being told that they could no longer accommodate them thanks to a recent, very small, fire in the kitchen. Wyatt didn't even get to have a conversation with anyone, he got a fucking voicemail. That's how serious this was, apparently, it warranted voicemails. Now was what he going to do? He set the phone back on its base and collapsed onto the couch, groaning, dragging his hands down his face as Scarlett came down the stairs, putting her hair up, already dressed for the evening. She was wearing a tight black dress and tall white leather boots. She stopped in front of him, hands on her hips. "We're not able to go, are we?" she asked. "You look like a go-go dancer," Wyatt said after a moment of looking her outfit up and down, "and no, we're not able to go, but we can...I don't know...find somewhere else?" "Do you still want to?" Scarlett asked, tossing her loose strands of hair from her eyes. "Of course, this is date night, we never miss date night," Wyatt said, "I just...am at a loss for where to go is all." "Well," Scarlett said, "we could just go downtown and drive around until we find somewhere we think looks interesting, like we used to. We're too set in our ways now, we know our favorites and refuse to budge. We should get back out there and start exploring again." "Alright, that...that's not a bad idea, let me go take a shower and get ready and stuff," Wyatt said, standing up and kissing her on the cheek before heading upstairs. As he got into the upstairs bathroom and shut the door behind him, he turned to see Mona standing on a stool in front of the enormous vanity mirror spread out across the sink, looking at her moms makeup. She wasn't trying any, she was just examining it. Wyatt smirked and approached his daughter. "What are you doing?" he asked. "Does every girl have to wear this stuff? It seems like it'd be uncomfortable," she replied. "Naw, girls don't have to. A lot of them like to, a lot of them feel pressured to, but you don't have to if you think it would make you feel uncomfortable or weird," Wyatt said, leaning against the bathroom sink and folding his arms, adding, "don't you think mommy looks pretty with it?" "Mommy looks pretty either way," Mona said, making Wyatt chuckle as she continued, "but I don't like the idea of having stuff on my face." "Well, nobody is going to force you to, okay? Now go somewhere else, daddy has to shower," Wyatt said, gently patting her on the back to get her to move along from the bathroom. As she exited, she turned and looked up at him. "Why don't boys wear makeup?" she asked. "Because boys think they don't need help, when in reality, we can't do a single thing ourselves," he said, making her laugh as he said, "in fact, I'd be lost without you and your mom. Hopelessly unable to care for myself. We're just wired that way." Mona laughed and ran off, as Wyatt shut the bathroom door and looked at himself in the mirror. Truth was, he had worn makeup a few times, but mostly as a teenager to cover up acne or a scratch on a photo day or something. He didn't mind it, but he also recognized he wasn't your usual run of the mill typical 'bro' who thought anything other than Football and eateries like Hooters were inherently homosexual. He licked his lips, then licked his index fingertips and smoothed out his eyebrows. Wyatt was vain, he wouldn't deny it. But that didn't mean he needed makeup, and frankly, Mona was right, neither did Scarlett. *** "I'm just so exhausted," Kelly said, sitting inside and sipping her iced coffee from the straw plunged into the lid of her cup, "and now with Cloudcon coming up, and I'll be flying in a few weeks to-" "...Cloudcon?" Rachel asked, taking a bite of her sandwich and chewing. "Oh, it's...it's a convention for weather persons out in Orlando," Kelly replied, "I have to go every year, see new technological updates to the services we use to predict weather patterns, stuff like that. Plus sometimes we're given a seminar of how to act on screen. You'd be surprised at the limitations one is given even in just announcing the weather." "....they seriously called it Cloudcon?" Rachel asked, making Kelly laugh. "They seriously called it Cloudcon, yeah." "That sounds like an evil company in a futuristic dystopia," Rachel mumbled, still chewing her sandwich. "Iced coffee is delicious but it hurts my braces," Kelly said, tapping at her teeth with her nail. "Look...one of the reasons I came across the street to talk is cause I...I wanted to apologize for how I acted. Not just in high school, but also at the reunion. I was a bitch, and I'm sorry. You deserve better than that. I owe you an explanation. Um...I was worried that, because we were such close friends, that....I guess that I'd start to feel something romantic for you. I didn't, but I was worried I MIGHT, and that scared the shit out of me. That's why I cut you off, because it was easier than dealing with myself." Kelly leaned back in her chair, still tapping at her braces mindlessly as she listened. Rachel pushed her bangs from her eyes and scratched her forehead, exhaling. "Ugh, this is weird. I knew I was gay, I just...I didn't want to admit it yet I guess, and I was scared that if we kept spending time together, or god forbid we did somehow attend the same college-" "I understand," Kelly said, interrupting. "No, Kelly, no, you...you don't," Rachel said, "you were the best friend I ever had. You were the only person who ever accepted me flat out for who I was, and I was stupid enough to believe you wouldn't if you knew what I was really like, so instead of finding out, instead of even giving you the chance to prove me wrong, I decided it was easier to not be friends whatsoever. That's not fair to you, and I'm so sorry." Kelly smiled and looked down at her coffee cup. "...I was so angry at you for so long," Kelly whispered, "you were the only friend I had. Even at work, I'm always the odd one out. Nobody's ever really wanted to be friends with me, no matter how hard I try. So that really did hurt, but thank you for being honest, I guess. For what it's worth, I would've accepted you, but I think you know that at this point. And, hey, if a girl was going to be romantically interested in me, I guess I could do worse than you." "Hey!" Rachel said, both of them laughing. Rachel and Kelly had been best friends. They'd been as tight and close as two girls could be, without it being romantic. Cutting Kelly out of her life had hurt Rachel, but she'd deemed it necessary for her own, and for Kelly's, sake. But, after having reconnected with Wyatt, Calvin and especially Sun Rai, she'd come to discover that maybe she should give people a chance to prove her wrong. For so long, she'd just assumed Wyatt was a jock and that Calvin was a weirdo, and they were sort of those things, but a stereotype isn't defined by its stereotypes. They're still people, capable of being individuals, even if they fit into a certain categorical definition. Rachel was starting to learn that herself. So now, sitting here as an adult with her best friend, she couldn't be happier with her life. It was nice to have some bit of normalcy amongst the madness. *** Calvin pulled open the door so Leonard could enter the college library and set the boxes down on the table, before following him inside himself. Calvin looked around, remembering when he'd been in college, and the hours he'd spent in the library. Those had been good days. Leonard groaned and put a hand on his lower back as the boxes hit the tabletop, and Calvin approached him, concerned. "You okay Mr. Wattson?" he asked. "Please, Calvin, call me Leonard for christ sake, this is awkward," he replied, chuckling, "and yeah, I'm fine, I just have a bad back. Comes with the territory of living this long, I suppose." "I could've carried it, you didn't have to do the manual labor yourself, I'm more than willing to help," Calvin said. "I appreciate that, Cal, I do," Leonard said, twisting and popping his back, sighing, "but if the school detects any kind of physical weakness, it'll be seen as me being too old to work or something, and I can't have that. I'll be fine. Just take some pain meds when I get home and use my hotpad. What you CAN do, Calvin, is start unloading these onto the table." "What is 'these'?" Calvin asked as he started opening the flaps on the boxes and pulling the innards out as Leonard stepped away momentarily and cleaned his glasses on the hem of his sweatervest, chuckling. "These are student papers," Leonard said, "mostly lengthy essays about the possibilities in the field of engineering for the current year. We'll split it, yeah? You just read through them, check spelling, punctuation, stuff like that. Then slide them over to me, and I'll mark any inaccuracies regarding the science of it all." "That sounds fair," Calvin said, stopping as Leonard dragged some chairs to the table and seated himself in one; Calvin chewed his lip then said, "thanks Mr. Wattson, er, Leonard. I think I really needed something kind of ordinary for a while. Life has been so....fucked, honestly." "I believe it, Cal. I'm sorry you had to go through what you did," Leonard said, crossing his legs, "it's not fair when life rips from you the only thing you really care about. The only thing that means anything to you. The thing that defines who you are, and what you wanted from existence." Calvin felt like Mr. Wattson was speaking from experience, but he didn't want to pry. Calvin sat down himself and slid some of the papers across the table to Leonard. "These appear to have already been corrected," he said. "Yes, I went ahead and did some ahead of this to make it easier," Leonard said, pulling a red pen from his sweatervest pocket, "that way I'd have something to do while you got started. You know, you were my best student, it's a shame you didn't stick with science." "I still kind of do things," Calvin said, shrugging as he uncapped a black pen and started working on a paper as well, "I just do it in my parents shed in the backyard. Nothing spectacular, just little projects to keep my mind sharp, keep me focused, give me something to do." "That's nice to hear," Leonard said, smiling, "I'm glad to have instilled a lifelong love of science in you." Calvin had lost his wife, his children, the one thing he had left was science, and he rarely considered it but he was, in fact, grateful for that, and now here was Mr. Wattson once more, giving him something else to do with his life. He was the man who kept on giving, it seemed. *** Wyatt and Scarlett were parked in a lot, eating messily from the burgers they'd picked up at a small, hole in the wall burger place that looked good, and boy were they happy they had, because it was indeed delicious. Wyatt wiped his mouth with his napkin and glanced at his wife, who was sinking her teeth into the center of her burger and he smiled. God she was beautiful. "Mona asked me about makeup," he said. "Yeah?" Scarlett asked, chewing, "I hope she was able to give you some pointers." Wyatt laughed and reached into their shared fry box, grasping a handful and shoveling them into his mouth. "Why'd she wanna know about makeup?" Scarlett asked. "Cause she wanted to know why people wore it. She said you didn't need it," Wyatt said, "and frankly I agree with her. I mean, don't get me wrong, I like it when you look like a cheap french harlot, but I also like when you look natural." Scarlett cracked up and pressed her head against the window, laughing as Wyatt lifted his drink to his lips and sipped. "Well, thank you for your honesty," she finally managed to say between laughter, "to be honest, I never wanted to be wearing makeup at this stage in my life. I mean, I don't know. It's fun, it's like art, in a way, but at the same time it makes me feel like I'm just giving into The Man and what society expects from women, physically, you know? It's gross. It's demeaning. Good on Mona to recognize that so early on." Wyatt nodded, taking another bite from his burger and looking out at the other parked motorists, doing the same. They never missed date night, and he wouldn't have missed this one for anything either. Even if their plans fell through, Wyatt and Scarlett always seemed to come through in one way or another in terms of finding backups. Wyatt put his burger down in its cardboard container and sighed, leaning back in the drivers seat. "God...when did we get to be this age?" he asked quietly, "it still feels like we're teenagers ourselves. I can't believe we have a mortgage, and kids, and...fuck." "I know," Scarlett replied, "it's crazy how much time passes without you even recognizing it." "...are you happy? Like, with this life, and with me?" Wyatt asked, and Scarlett smiled, the took a napkin and wiped the lipstick from her lips and leaned in, kissing him. "I really really am, man," she whispered, "I couldn't imagine my life any other way." Wyatt smiled, putting his hand on her face and kissing her back. Wyatt had gotten lucky. He acknowledged this. He had a job thanks to his father, he had a house thanks to the job he got from his father, he was married to his high school sweetheart and had two kids. Most of the people he knew, Rachel and Calvin and Celia, they were struggling in some way, and Wyatt felt guilty for not struggling even slightly. Unless he counted with his conscience. Then he struggled intensely, because, after all, he had blown up a man. *** Kelly Schuester had never expected to get her best friend back. As she prepared for bed that night - changed into her pajamas, did her oral hygiene routine and undid her braids - she couldn't help but think how lucky she really was. She got to do the job she always wanted, AND she got her best friend back to boot, PLUS an explanation for her behavior in the past. How many people get that? Not many, she assumed. Kelly sat down on her bed and set her alarm clock. She had to be back at work tomorrow morning, early, to determine the weather for everyone, but it didn't matter. And it didn't matter what the weather was like tomorrow. It didn't matter whether it was rainy and cloudy or a goddamned monsoon somehow. Because nothing could beat the weather she felt today. Today had been sunny, today had been bright, today had been lovely. Today had been a lovely day to be alive for.
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"See, he's shallow, all he cares about is her body! Did you notice how, immediately after they had their little pool date, he was nowhere near as smitten with her and just because she had stress marks and stuff? Oh no, a woman who's given life to a child! How disgusting!" Scarlett said as she and Wyatt lay on the couch, eating ice cream cones and flipping through channels.
"You're not wrong. She was charming, she was smart, and honestly, even with the stretch marks, she was in way better shape than most moms seem to be," Wyatt said, "course, nowhere near as good shape as the mom I'm married to, but." "Awww, you dweeb," Scarlett said, giggling as she finished her ice cream cone while Wyatt - who had finished a few minutes earlier - was massaging her feet in his lap. He blushed at her affection and kept massaging her feet just as they heard their son start crying from upstairs. They both sighed, glancing at one another. This had been a problem for a while now, and neither were sure how to break him of the habit. Scarlett pulled her legs off Wyatt's lap and swung them over the side of the couch, heading upstairs as Wyatt picked up the remote and kept flipping through channels, eventually landing on the local news, where he saw a blonde woman with braces and pigtails, in a nice suit, in front of a weather map. "That's how things are shaping up for this week, it looks like a beautiful time to be outside, get some fresh air, even with the potential light showers ahead," she said, "I'm Kelly Shuester, and that's the weather. Back to you Adam." The camera cut to the front news desk, where a middle aged, yet attractive news anchor named Adam Lebarbara turned towards the camera and smiled, nodding. "Well, even after months of silence, one group is still protesting downtown constantly, and that group calls themselves The Evergreens. Dedicated to protecting our cities natural resources, they've hailed local, Oliver Brighton, as a hero for the environment, even in light of his despicable actions. They see his sacrifice as a necessary one. Here's Stacy with-" Wyatt immediately muted the television, just as the phone rang. He leaned to the side table by the couch and answered. "Y'ello?" he said, sighing, "yeah...yeah I saw." "This is ridiculous," Rachel said on the other end of the line, "how can they call him a hero after what he did? Did his supposedly singular act of heroism for the environment somehow alleviate the guilt of the crime of killing his goddamned family? Bullshit." "Well," Wyatt said, scratching his stubble, "nobody listens to them, so they're just shouting to the wind. It's nothing to worry about. What're you doing tomorrow?" "Nuffin'," Rachel said, shoving a handful of chips in her mouth, "you wanna do something?" "Sure. Scarlett's going to spend the day with her mother and she's taking our son, so Mona, you and I could go miniature golfing or something," Wyatt said. "That sounds cool, just gimme a call," Rachel said. Wyatt hung up the phone and sighed heavily, looking back at the TV screen, where Brighton's image was plastered as the reporters discussed the situation with Grudin, the murders, and the environmental disasters that'd been adverted as a result of everything. Wyatt couldn't watch this. He picked up the remote again and flipped channels, winding up on one of the softcore adult channels they had as Scarlett came back in, smirking as she climbed onto the couch again with him. "Oooh, watcha doin'?" she asked. "Not what you think, that's what," Wyatt said, laughing. "Could we be?" "We sure could," he replied, as Scarlett climbed on top of him and kissed him, Wyatt's hand reaching behind and slightly overhead, shutting off the floor lamp beside the couch. *** The following afternoon, while Sun Rai was at work and Scarlett was, indeed, shopping with her mother, Wyatt and Rachel - with Mona tagging along - headed to a local miniature golf course that Wyatt had frequented before. He and Mona met Rachel in the parking lot after they'd parked, and then together they all headed inside together, Mona running ahead of them excitedly. "I remember when I used to enjoy things that much," Rachel said. "That's a sad sentence," Wyatt replied, both of them chuckling. "You know what I mean, man, like...like being young and carefree," Rachel said, "always looking forward to something. Now I look forward to avoiding things. Adulthood is just a never ending attempt to find ways out of enduring it on a day to day basis." "Awww!" they heard Mona groan, and looked up towards her as she came walking back up to them, somewhat sullen. "What is it pumpkin?" Wyatt asked. "The airplane isn't working!" she said, annoyed, crossing her arms. "The airplane?" Rachel asked. "One of the holes here is a sort of animatronic airplane that goes up and down in front of a hole," Wyatt said, "well, we can just skip that hole, but I'm sorry. I know it's your favorite. What are all these people doing here?" Rachel shrugged, confused, as they headed to the ticket booth to procure clubs, balls and give payment. Once there, Wyatt looked at the irritated looking teenager behind the glass, and read her nametag, smiling. "Hiya Peggy," he said, "we'd like to golf, us and my daughter." "That'll be 14.50," Peggy said. As Wyatt dug into his wallet for the money, Rachel, who was chewing her nails, glanced over her shoulder again and then looked back at Peggy. "Hey, what's with everyone outside with the signs?" she asked. "It's the Evergreens," Peggy said, placing their clubs and balls on the counter, "they've been here for the last week and, frankly, it's gone past humorous to outright annoying." "Why...why would they be here?" Rachel asked. "Cause we want to expand, add onto the course, which of course means extending into an undeveloped piece of land and, of course, they hate that," Peggy said, "look, I'm not ubercapitalist, I think modern infrastructure and unchecked industrialization is as bad as anyone else rightfully should, but I'm trying to do my goddamned job and the people they should be targeting are the local government, not us. I just work here on the weekends, man." Wyatt laughed as he paid and grabbed their clubs and balls, as Rachel hit him on the arm. He looked at her, and noticed she was pointing back at the group, a few of which were holding signs with Brighton's picture on them and a slogan that said, "For a Brighton tomorrow!". Wyatt merely rolled his eyes, gathered Mona, and together they all headed inside to golf. *** Calvin stumbled down the staircase, from his bedroom at the top, wearing an old blue robe over a white v-neck and a pair of boxers, when he noticed his father wasn't alone in the kitchen. He could hear another mans voice, and as his eyes adjusted to the light in the kitchen, he realized it was Leonard Wattson. "Oh...Mr. Wattson, what...what are you doing here?" Calvin asked, yawning. "Oh, I came by to see you, but you weren't up yet, so I figured I'd talk to your folks," he said, smiling politely and tapping the mug on the table between his palms and adding, "your father makes a great cup of coffee, Calvin." "Can I have a cup of that?" Calvin asked, while his father got up and went to get another mug; as he poured coffee into it, Calvin looked from his dad to his former teacher, who seemed perfectly content sitting here in the kitchen of a former student, like this wasn't weird at all. After Barry gave Calvin his mug, he patted him on the shoulder and told him he'd give them some privacy, before exiting the kitchen. Calvin raised his mug to his lips and took a few sips, before finally exhaling, running a hand through his bedhead and looking Mr. Wattson square in the eye. "What are you doing here?" Calvin asked, repeating his first question. "Actually, Calvin, I was wondering if you were curious in doing a project together," Leonard said, "As I said at the college, I'm teaching, and I was wondering if you'd like to help now and then. I could even arrange to pay you, if you were curious. Be sort of a...a teacher for hire, hah." "...well, I certainly could use the income," Calvin said. "It's nothing serious," Leonard said, "just doing some filing, sometimes helping me with course projects, that kind of thing. Just figured you could use an excuse to get out of the house once in a while, do something you enjoyed, you know? Things have to be hard, considering." Calvin smiled weakly, thinking about what Leonard had said. He wasn't wrong, it would be nice to get out of the house from time to time, have something to focus on besides his grief and his guilt. It would be nice to be somewhat distracted from the mundane existence of his day to day life. He nodded, looking back up at him now. "I think that sounds like a fun idea," he said, "do you want to get some lunch, and we can discuss it more?" "Sounds like a plan," Leonard replied, smiling warmly. *** Celia was in her office, packing her things up to go to a meeting, when her new secretary, a young man named Randy, knocked on the door and opened it as he knocked. Celia looked up from her desk as he entered. "Um, someone is here to-" Wyatt walked in, outright ignoring his introduction, and Celia chuckled. "Thank you Randy," she said, waiting until Randy exited before looking at Wyatt, who proceeded to wander around her office, looking at her decorative decor and her various degrees hung on the wall; after a few moments, Celia finally asked, "what are you doing here?" "...so, you work the environment." "Yes, it's true, I represent all of nature, I do pro bono for squirrels," Celia replied. "You know what I mean," Wyatt said, turning to face her now, "...you hear about this group, Evergreen?" Celia went quiet, then exhaled deeply. She adjusted herself in her chair and leaned back in her chair, folding her arms. "Must be serious if this discussion requires that level of physicality," Wyatt said. "I've been wondering when this would come up," Celia said, "truth is, I've been hoping you'd never come to me about it, but let me assure you that I'm already two steps ahead of you and six steps ahead of them." "Wow, that's eight whole steps." "Congratulations on passing basic 4th grade math," Celia said, smirking, "rest assured, nothing will come of it. They're annoying, but they won't be causing any issues, and besides, their beliefs regarding Oliver are so fringe nobody is taking them seriously, nor will they start to. They represent the worst facet of a good movement. That's why, when they came to me for legal counsel, I took them up on it. This way I can control the narrative. I can present weak cases in court, and keep them constantly under the laws thumb." Wyatt was, admittedly, shocked. He finally pulled a chair over to the desk and sat in it, staring at her wide eyed. "Excuse me what now?" he finally asked, "you're-" "Yes, I am representing them, because if anyone else did, they might have a chance to be a thorn in our side. Wyatt, they considering Oliver a martyr, do you realize how far people who believe in martyrs will go to get others to believe in their martyr? To clear their martyrs name? That's...that's not something we want. This way, I can actively destroy their chances, then tell them 'well, the court isn't always fair', and they go back to picketing, looking nutty." "...wow, I'm impressed," Wyatt said, jerking his thumb over his shoulder at the degrees on her wall and adding, "those aren't just for show, you actually did graduate law school." "Imagine that!" Celia said, laughing, "trust me when I say I have our best interests at heart. There's nothing you have to worry about right now. I know it seems concerning, but really, nobody is going to listen to them when it comes to defending a man who killed his family." Wyatt nodded, scratching the back of his head and then leaning forward, putting his elbows on his knees and burying his face in his hands, crying, surprising Celia with this open expression of vulnerability. "Wyatt?" she asked softly. "why did we do this," he asked through his tears, his voice wavy, "why...why didn't i stop it? why didn't i stop Calvin? it's all spun so far out of control." Celia stood up and walked around the desk, rubbing his back as she knelt by his chair. "I know," she whispered, resting her head against his arm, "I know. I'm sorry. But we'll get through it. Nothing worse could happen, at least." Oh if only she knew. If only she knew just how much worse would happen in just a few weeks. *** Leonard Wattson pulled open the large steel rolling door, then stared at the inside of the storage unit, hands on his hips, sighing and shaking his head. He walked inside and lifted the lid off a large plastic tub, then looked inside. He reached in and pulled out a small photo album, then started flipping through it, admiring the shots. Shots Oliver had taken. Shots of...well...young girls. Leonard plopped the book down into the tub, then leaned against it and looked at the wall of VHS tapes, film reels and DVDs lined against the wall across from him. Oliver had been the best. Oliver had pumped out the most in demand content from their clients, and it was always quality, premium stuff. Oliver never let his work slip, and he'd never be willing to let society know about his part in it. After all, he prided himself on being a 'family man'. To his neighbors, he was a loving father and husband. To his job, he was a dedicated craftsman. If only they knew the sick bastard he actually was. Leonard rubbed his hand down his face, exhaling. He didn't know where to turn for answers. All he knew was that he had to find something else to follow, some kind of lead, ANY kind of lead. Then there was Brian. He had to contend with Brian on some level at some point, give him something concrete. Leonard had found the unit, thankfully, by pretending to be related to Brighton, but that was only a small step in the right direction. How was he going to haul all of this stuff back to the city? Back to his own studio? He could rent a truck, but what guarantee would he have of its safety, and his...privacy? Leonard slammed his fist against the plastic tub behind him, and groaned. Goddammit Oliver, he thought, you goddamn idiot. You've put us all in the sights of danger with your actions, intentional or not. One day at a time. That's how he had to approach this. Tomorrow Leonard would go back to work, and start to approach the little sisters of the girls he had in his class. He had to start getting more girls on the payroll again. Had to make up for Brighton's losses resulting from his death. One day at a time. Leonard finally pushed himself away from the tub and walked back to the door of the unit. He reached up and grabbed the bar, tugging it down, giving the contents one more solemn glace before he pulled it shut entirely and locked it again. He tucked the key back into his shirt pocket and buttoned it tight, patting it with his palm and smiling as he walked back down the hall, back towards his car in the lot. So long as nobody else found the unit, he knew he'd be safe. But as Brighton's death had proved, nothing in life has guarantees. "What even is perpetual motion?" Rachel asked as she and Calvin walked down an aisle made up of tables at a local college. This was the yearly science fair for anyone in the community to be involved in, and it was something that, for a long time, Calvin himself had been a part of. Nowadays, he simply liked to walk along and look at all the various entries from people in the neighborhood or attending the college.
Rachel continued, asking, "I mean, it has an extremely specific name, is it exactly what it sounds like? Or is it one of those deceptive names where they make it sound simplistic, but then when you read into it, learn about it, it's actually incredibly obtuse and complex, like most science?" "Is most science obtuse and complex to you?" Calvin asked as they stopped at a table and Calvin looked at something. "I mean, it wasn't my strongest subject in school," Rachel said, shrugging, making Calvin chuckle. "Well, simply put, it's the motion of bodies that continues forever in an unperturbed system," Calvin said, "though in actuality, the idea of a machine based on this theory is impossible. People have theorized that they could make a machine that could do work infinitely without an external energy source, but this straight up violates the first and possibly second law of thermodynamics." "Okay, look, if you're not going to respond to me like an ordinary human being, you can just tell me," Rachel said, folding her arms, smirking. "Calvin?" a voice from behind asked, causing them both to turn and face an older looking man in a sweatervest with a long sleeved shirt beneath, ash colored slacks and loafers, short black hair and a pencil mustache. He was standing there with a clipboard, smiling. "Uh...yes?" Calvin asked. "It's...it's me, Mr. Wattson," the man said, "Leonard Wattson, I...I taught science over at the high school, you were in my class?" "Mr. Wattson!" Calvin said, grinning, shaking his hand firmly, excitedly, "oh my god, what...what are you doing back in town? I heard you'd moved!" "Yeah, well, sometimes it's fun to come home," Mr. Wattson said, "I've been teaching here for a few months now, just to supplement my income in addition to my retirement funds, pension and whatnot. Still interested in science I see?" "Absolutely," Calvin said. "And what about you? You interested in science too?" Mr. Wattson asked, politely looking at Rachel with a warm smile. "Nah," Rachel replied, "I kinda have this weird crazy urge to have a social life." With that, Rachel continued on her way, while Calvin and Mr. Wattson watched her go. Mr. Wattson looked at Calvin, who just shrugged. "We're not close," Calvin said. *** Wyatt and Mona were sitting in a small diner, having their usual weekend waffle feast. Every Sunday, Wyatt took Mona to a diner nearby and they each got a bottomless stack of waffles, then tried to see who would get tired of eating first. Wyatt was still in his first, but nearing the bottom of the plate, while Mona was already starting her third. The appetite on this kid, he swore, she was insatiable. "Dad?" Mona asked after swallowing what she had in her mouth, "I need new shoes." "You couldn't have told me this the day before you went back to school?" Wyatt asked. "Well, I forgot," she said. "Alright, we'll go get some shoes after breakfast," Wyatt said. As they ate, they heard the bell over the diner door ring, but Wyatt didn't think anything of it until he looked up and noticed Rachel standing by the table. She looked down and smiled, waving at Mona, who waved gleefully back at her, before Rachel scooted into the booth next to Mona and picked up the coffee mug in front of Wyatt, sipping it. "That's mine!" Wyatt said. "I'll pay for your breakfast," Rachel said, continuing to drink from it, before making a face and asking, "god, do you load this up with sugar?" "I like my sweets," Wyatt said, "why, how do you drink your coffee?" "Black, obviously," Rachel said, "like a real adult." "Yeah? You smoke cigars in a trenchcoat while drinking that?" Wyatt asked, making her laugh. "Is coffee good?" Mona asked, looking from her father, then to Rachel. "Well," Rachel said, "not for children. It's better for adults. See, when you get older, you lose all the ability to have energy, because by the time you're our age, your bones and your muscles have given up completely and now you need all the help you can get. Enjoy your youth while you can, because before you know it, you won't even be able to get out of bed without the help of a walker." "You could've just lied to me," Mona said quietly, making the adults laugh. "So," Wyatt asked, stuffing waffle into his mouth from the end of his fork, "what are you doing here anyway?" "Eh, Sun's spending the weekend with her folks, so I'm just putzing about, seeing what's going on with everyone," Rachel replied, "went to this little science thing with Calvin earlier at the college, but I'm not that interested in science. One of his teachers from high school works there now, I guess, so that was awkward. What are your plans?" "Well, after waffle wednesday-" "It's Sunday," Rachel said, interrupting. "Yeah but that's not alliterative and therefore it sounds stupid, so, after Waffle Wednesday, we're going to go to the mall and get Mona some new shoes for school, and then, who knows, the day is open with possibilities," Wyatt said, "why, you wanna come?" "Can you come?" Mona asked excitedly. Ever since Rachel and Scarlett had started doing painting together, and thus Rachel had begun teaching Mona how to channel her feelings through painting as well, she had become extremely attached to Rachel, something everyone, Rachel especially, found incredibly endearing. Rachel looked at Wyatt, who just shrugged, before she looked back at Mona and agreed to tag along on their little weekend excursion. Better than spending her time at a science fair, she figured. *** "I heard about your family," Mr. Wattson said, shaking his head, "I am so so sorry, Calvin." He and Calvin had found a small table in the cafeteria and had gotten some food and seated themselves there for a bit. Mr. Wattson was here to judge, so he did have to eventually get back to work, but he figured he could take some time off for his favorite former student. Calvin just bit into the sandwich he'd gotten from the vending machine and shrugged. "I mean, these things happen," Calvin said. "Well, sure, but that doesn't make it easier or any more fair. Either way, you don't deserve to live with that pain," Mr. Wattson said, adjusting his tie, "how have you been since that happened? I hear you're living with your folks." "Yeah," Calvin said, "living at home, doing science projects in my dads shed." "Where's your sister? She was always entertaining," Mr. Wattson asked, chuckling. "...she doesn't live here anymore," Calvin said, "let's just leave it at that. I was going to group meetings for a while, ya know, like a grief support group, someplace downtown...but that only made me feel even worse. I've learned how to cope on my own. It is what it is. Nothing I can do to change it. Besides, Grudin got what he deserved." Mr. Wattson's eyes widened at the name of Grudin. "Grudin? Robert Grudin? The...he was the politician that was blown up a few months back, right?" Mr. Wattson asked. "I shouldn't have said that. What happened was awful, but still, a small part of me can't help but feel vindicated when the guy who killed my family, even if by accident, was killed himself. Shows there's some level of karmic justice in the world," Calvin said, chewing while Mr. Wattson took a long sip from his thermos. "Understandable," Mr. Wattson said, "do you know anything about the guy who did it?" "Oliver Brighton? Other than he went to school with us, not really," Calvin said, shrugging, hoping he sounded sincere, "I know that he killed his family after he was fired, and he blamed Grudin for his firing. I mean, everyone knows Grudin was so into big business that if big business was a person he'd have slept with it. It's no secret he was planning on doing major restructuring of the cities remaining parks, outright shutting a lot of them down." "Environmental assassin," Mr. Wattson said, chewing his lip, "so you think Brighton blamed Grudin, was fired, arranged for Grudins death, then offed himself and his family as a follow up? That's...that's some sick, heavy shit, not gonna lie." "Well, like I said, I'm not invested or anything, but I am glad to know the man who took my life from me is also rotting underground," Calvin said, making Mr. Wattson nod, chuckling. "Sometimes it's important to be just a little nasty," Mr. Wattson replied, "it helps ease the pain. Doesn't make a lot of sense though, does it? I mean, I taught Brighton, he wasn't - unlike his name implied - the brightest kid when it came to science. How could he build a bomb by himself? I mean, I know the internet is chock full of guides, and you can find books on the subject, but I have to imagine he had some sort of accomplice." "I personally couldn't imagine standing to work with him," Calvin said, "nobody wanted to be his lab partner in school, why would they now?" Mr. Wattson nodded, stroking his mustache. Calvin raised a good point. Maybe all this time he'd spent here had been for naught. Maybe he was wrong in thinking Brighton had been framed. Maybe Brighton really had killed Robert Grudin, and maybe that was that. Besides, no charges had been brought forward since his death, and there hadn't even really been an investigation as far as Mr. Wattson could tell. He broke his train of thought and looked back at Calvin, smiling again. "You know Calvin," he said, "I'm running a small get together every week here at the college, it's for locals interested in science. You should come on by! It's on Friday nights, and it's always a great time. I think you'd fit in just fine!" "I appreciate that," Calvin said, "I really do. I don't have much of a social life these days." Well, that wasn't true. It's just that the social life he had...he couldn't really talk about, considering what they'd done. *** Rachel was admiring a pair of tall, black spiked heels, while Mona tried on her third pair of shoes at a nearby bench. Rachel felt Wyatt suddenly walk up beside her, looking at the shoe with her as she stuffed it back into the box. Wyatt shook his head, which made Rachel curious. "What?" she asked. "Would've looked good on you," he said, "maybe I'll get 'em for Scarlett. She loves shoes like that." "I don't think I really have the legs to pull of stuff like that," Rachel said. "Well, we can't all dress like lesbian gym teachers," Wyatt said, making her laugh as she hit him in the chest lightly; he continued, "honestly, heels hurt. I know, I wore a pair of Scarlett's heels once for...well, I actually don't think this is an appropriate place to discuss it, but they hurt." "I prefer comfort, you know?" Rachel asked, picking up another box and pulling the lid off, "Mona would understand." Mona did, in fact, understand. For Mona to buy a new pair of shoes, they had to not be too snug, but not too lose, and she couldn't have laces, so they had to be either slip ons or velcro, and she often didn't like the sound of velcro, so that was usually out. They also couldn't feel tighter while wearing socks. Ever since her diagnosis, Mona had become increasingly in tune with her sensory, which Wyatt thankfully helped her navigate. "Well, I didn't actually come by to shop for shoes," Rachel said quietly, "I actually came to talk to you about Calvin. He's...he's holding it together pretty well, but you can tell he feels guilty. I'm starting to worry about his ability to keep everything under wraps. We should have a...contingency plan." "...are you suggesting-" "I'm not suggesting anything in particular other than we come up with some sort of fallback, just on the offchance, which likely won't happen anyway but it doesn't hurt to be prepared, that Calvin snaps at some point," Rachel said, pushing some of her hair from her eyes and back behind her ear, adding, "that's all I'm saying." Wyatt glanced back over his shoulder at his daughter, then sighed and looked back at Rachel. "So what do you suggest then? I mean, we can't-" "Again, not suggesting anything in particular, just putting forth the notion that it might be a good idea to keep tabs on him and come up with a contingency plan of some kind," Rachel said, "right now he seems okay, but he's talked to me on a few occasions about how he's felt ever since it happened, and...he doesn't sound good, Wyatt." "Well, I'll talk to him," Wyatt said, "don't worry, nothing will come of it." "Dad! I hate shoes! Shoes are the worst!" Mona shouted from behind them. *** Mr. Wattson entered his apartment and sighed, pulling his sweatervest off over his head and placing it gently on the back of a chair before heading over to the landline phone hanging on the wall of his kitchenette. He picked it up and dialed, then stood against the wall, tapping his foot on the floor until someone finally answered. "Is this Brian?" Mr. Wattson asked, "it's Leonard. I have nothing of note to say, just phoning to say hi, and see how things are holding up over there. You think it's....yeah? Yeah, okay. I was wondering when we could start up production again. Definitely, some of the girls in my class have little sisters, and I bet I could entice them to be interested for the right price. Alright, well, I'll do some scouting and get back to you." Mr. Wattson hung up and sighed. He pulled his glasses off his face and wiped them on a hankerchief he kept in his pocket, then slid them back up his nose. He put his hands in his pockets and walked over to his closet in the hall. He slid open the door, pulled out a suitcase, and pulled out a disc. He walked over to his desktop computer, inserted the disk and opened it on the screen, where he was flooded with a litany of images and videos, all of which Brighton had created for him. What did Brighton get himself involved in? How could this have happened? He'd helped Mr. Wattson create an empire of filth, and now his best working man was gone, and all because of a feud with a local politician? Leonard wanted to scream, but he knew being angry would get him nowhere. He just would have to shut down Brighton's operation, take his work from wherever he'd hidden it, and leave town as quickly as possible. He thought about Calvin, how Calvin might be willing to help him. Calvin seemed unconcerned with Grudin's death, and unconnected to Brighton, so perhaps he might be the right person to help him find out where Brighton had stashed his work. He'd think about it more in the morning over breakfast. Leonard shut his computer down, stood up and headed to his bedroom. He put his glasses on the side table, then put on his pajamas and climbed into bed. He'd have to hire someone new, someone he could trust, to eventually replace Brighton. Someone with just as low morals as Brighton himself had had. Leonard Wattson had a lot of work ahead of him, and he wasn't happy about it. At least he had his day job to keep him occupied. After all, they say the satisfaction more than makes up for the lousy pay of teaching. Kelly Schuester had never used an airplane phone before, and she couldn't believe it was the last thing she'd do before dying. She dialed quickly, with reckless abandon, hoping that the numbers she put in would actually connect to the number she'd hoped to reach. It rang. Once. Twice. Three times. Then, during the fourth ring, it finally picked up, and Kelly felt an immense sense of relief, despite facing her seemingly impending demise.
"I didn't know who else to call," she managed to squeak out, tears welling in her eyes, "I didn't...this is the only number I could think of." "It's okay, you're okay," Wyatt responded. "Where are you?" "In the kitchen, the TV is super loud," Wyatt said, "everyone screaming over one another. Kelly, just breath, okay? Just breath and everything will be okay." "I'm on a crashing plane, how will everything be okay?" Kelly asked, fighting back tears, "Wyatt, just...tell Rachel she's my best friend no matter what, okay? And...and that...and tell my parents, you can find them in the phonebook, tell them that I love them so much, please, and-" "Kelly, you're not going to die, okay?!" Wyatt shouted, "You're gonna be just fine!" "I can see the ground," Kelly said, "I can-" The phone went dead. The line clicked endlessly. Wyatt stood in the kitchen, staring at his cell, before he turned and threw his phone across the room and watched it shatter on the wall just as Calvin entered the room and their eyes met. Wyatt approached him and grabbed him by his collar, lifting him up a bit, his eyes burning with hatred. "What did you do?" Wyatt asked through gritted teeth. 1 MONTH EARLIER Wyatt hadn't had a good nights sleep in months. He'd tried a dozen different sleep aides, he'd done the classics, like drinking warm milk - despite his utter disgust for milk in general - and he and Scarlett had even started having sex extremely frequently simply because they knew it would tire them out. Unfortunately for Wyatt, while Scarlett managed to fall asleep relatively soon after their nightly bouts of passion, Wyatt instead tossed and turned, opting eventually to climb out of bed, drag himself downstairs, and watch old classic westerns and horror movies on TV. Sometimes Mona would wake up and they would sit and watch movies together, just having some father/daughter bonding time. In actuality, while he did hate not sleeping, he was appreciative of the time he was managing to spend with his daughter. This particular morning, he was standing in the kitchen pouring himself a large mug of coffee when Scarlett entered and kissed his neck from behind, making him blush. She then patted him on the butt and headed to the stove, turned it on and pulled eggs and bacon from the fridge, plopping them on the counter. "You know," she said, "I think I've lost weight since we started having sex so much. Do I look thinner to you?" "That's a question I've learned not to answer," Wyatt said, making Scarlett laugh. "No, really! I look good, man," she replied, "It's better than going to the gym, honestly. It's like swimming a ton of laps all at once." "You're not just using me to get in better shape, are you? Am I just exercise equipment to you?" Wyatt asked as he stood opposite of her on the island. Scarlett leaned over the island grabbed his face, squeezing his cheeks a little and smiling at him. "Oh, don't pretend you don't love it, my little trophy husband," she said, making him laugh. Wyatt pulled up a chair and sat at the island. The kids were at his mothers for the weekend, and he didn't have many plans. He figured he might go into the store, do some inventory, maybe get lunch and bring it home so he and Scarlett could eat together. He pulled his cell phone out and checked his texts, but didn't see much of anything of interest, until he noticed he had 4 missed calls from Rachel. This caught his interest, because why would Rachel call him that regularly? Something had to be wrong. He sighed and dialed it, then, phone tucked under his chin, he picked up his mug again and opened the sliding glass door that led to the backyard and stepped onto the porch, shutting the door behind him. "Hello?" Rachel answered. "You called me. Actually you called me a handful of times," Wyatt said, taking a sip from his mug, "anything going on?" "Not particularly," Rachel said, "I just was curious what you were up to and if you and Scarlett wanted to join Sun Rai and I for dinner tonight." "Where are you going? Cause I gotta tell ya, I'm not a huge fan of mexican food," Wyatt said. "We don't know yet. We were thinking something a bit more ethnic, or does that make you uncomfortable, being the white honky you are?" Rachel asked, making Wyatt laugh loudly. "No, that...that's fine, just call me back and let me know where and when," he said. After hanging up, he heard the glass door slide open again, and Scarlett handed him a piece of bacon as she took a seat in one of the lounge chairs, soaking up the hot morning sun. She exhaled, relaxing, as Wyatt stood and watched her, munching on his bacon and occasionally sipping his coffee. Nothing could change what he'd been a part of, he knew this, and as such the last 3 months had been relatively odd, considering, but he knew to take his breathers where he could get them and today one of those was right here, watching his wife enjoy the warmth. He wouldn't trade that for anything in the world. *** "God, this story just keeps getting worse everytime, I swear," Calvin's father, Barry, said as he sat at the kitchen table, reading the newspaper; he rustled it a bit and added, "seems like twice a week they uncover something that just adds to the ridiculousness of it all. I mean, sure, Grudin was a self serving jerk who wasn't interested in helping the community, but that doesn't mean he should've been murdered." Ever since the Grudin incident, his parents had talked about it endlessly, and while they did, Calvin just had to sit there and pretend he didn't know anything. Pretend he didn't have a major hand in the mans demise. He ate his cereal in silence as his mother, Amelia, finished cooking breakfast for herself and Barry and setting the plates down on the table before seating herself and starting to eat. "They robbed that poor little challenged girl of her father," Amelia said, mouthful of eggs, "that, to me, is the worst part of it all." "He was scum," Calvin finally muttered, making his parents look at him and, sadly, remember the accident. Amelia leaned over and patted Calvin on the forearm, nodding. "I know sweetheart, I know, I'm sorry," she said, "but his death isn't bringing them back. If anything, it's only created a void much like you have now, and-" "How? How the hell's it create the same kind of void?" Calvin asked, tossing his spoon down into his bowl and speaking sternly now, feeling annoyed, "she at least still has her daughter. I don't have anything. I'm not going to feel remorse for a man who did horrible things, who lied to the very people he sought election from. Fuck Robert Grudin. I'm glad he's dead." With that, Calvin stood up and exited the room, heading upstairs to his bedroom. Amelia looked at Barry and sighed, shaking her head. "Maybe he should go back to therapy," she said softly. "I don't think that's gonna fix a thing," Barry said, "I mean, he shouldn't keep his emotions bottled up, sure, but I think we're far beyond anything therapy could be beneficial towards. I don't know what could help him, but therapy isn't it. Maybe we should set him up with someone. Maybe if he just met someone new that would do him some good, you know? Get out of the house, get his mind occupied with someone else?" "Perhaps," Amelia said, "...but he loved that woman so deeply, I doubt that-" "He doesn't deserve to live his entire life in pain," Barry said, "nobody does." But Calvin, unbeknownst to his folks, didn't mind living his entire life in pain. Pain he understood. Pain was eternal. If there was anything he'd taken away from the death of his family it was that happiness was fleeting and could be stolen in an instant. That joy was never guaranteed. Sitting on his bed, crying into his hands, Calvin liked the pain. The pain was a companion. That's the thing about loss nobody ever tells you, is that sure it creates a void, but eventually that void becomes your friend. Calvin didn't know what he'd do without that void now, and he didn't wanna try and find out. *** Wyatt discussed with Scarlett about dinner, and she thought it sounded like a lovely idea, so he called Rachel back, and they made a plan to meet at a place downtown called Smokem's, a pretty popular BBQ bar and grill, at about 7 that night. This gave Wyatt plenty of time to get some things done before dinner, along with Scarlett, who wanted to shower and pick out something nice to wear. Wyatt grabbed his keys off the table by the door as Scarlett was grabbing a towel from the nearby linen closet in the downstairs hall, and they looked at one another, smiling momentarily. "Where you going?" Scarlett asked. "I wanna run into the store, get some stuff done quick before we go," he said, "I won't be gone long." "Okay, I'll be here," Scarlett said, heading up the stairs to their bathroom before adding, "you can join me in the shower when you get back." Wyatt blushed and grinned, as he exited the house and headed to his car. He climbed in, started the engine and started to pull out of the driveway. Wyatt hadn't been working much lately, taking advantage of his built up vacation time, simply so he could unwind from what he'd been a part of, so seeing him in the store had actually become somewhat of a rare occurrence. Either way, when he entered, Ben, who was manning the counter training the new girl, briskly walked over to him and handed him a clipboard stacked with papers. "What's all this?" Wyatt asked, licking his thumb and going through them slowly as they headed back to his office. "A lot of it is just acquisition requests, companies asking us what we need and how much, you know, ordering manifests and stuff. There's also some stuff from your dad in there, but I put it at the back, since, ya know, he sucks," Ben said, making Wyatt chuckle. "Thanks," Wyatt replied, unlocking his office door and entering, Ben behind him, before asking while he pulled his jacket off, "so how's the new girl working out? Seems kinda young." "She's a sophomore in high school but she was eager," Ben said, shrugging, "can't deny someone who's willing to put in the time and effort. She just seemed like the best choice for the job." "Fair enough," Wyatt said. Ben nodded, smiled, and headed back to the counter as Wyatt seated himself behind his desk and plopped the clipboard in front of him. He grabbed a pen from the little bowl on his desk and uncapped it, starting to fill things out and put his signature on stuff when the door re-opened, but, instead of Ben, this time Celia entered. Wyatt immediately put the pen down and sat up to attention as she sat down across from him, rubbing her forehead. "You okay? Were you...were you waiting for me to come in?" he asked. "Yes," Celia said, "and everything is...I don't know whether it's okay or not. I mean, nothing immediate is of concern, but I feel...gross. Everyday I feel gross. I've been having nightmares lately, it's been unpleasant." "I'm sorry. For what it's worth you aren't alone. I haven't been sleeping well myself," Wyatt said, picking his pen back up and continuing to sign papers as he continued, "but that's not the same, I guess. I'll take poor sleep over nightmares anytime. Hopefully you haven't been keeping up with the papers and news and such. These articles, man...they're too much to handle." "I'm not an idiot, Wyatt, I know what reading or hearing that stuff would do to me," Celia said, "my conscience is already on the brink of despair. Stupid conscience." "Well," Wyatt said, lowering his voice and looking up from his desk, "he's gone. He's gone and that's all that matters, and they still think Brighton did it. By all accounts, we're in the clear. It's been three months, Celia, I don't think anything is coming back on us. Have you talked to Calvin?" Celia shook her head as she sipped from the water bottle she'd brought in with her. After capping it and setting it back in her lap she sighed. "I haven't. I mean, I talked to him maybe a week after, you know, it happened, but he was....morose isn't the right word, but I'm not sure what it is so morose will have to do," she said, "but it was his idea, honestly. He's the one who wanted Grudin dead." "Maybe he feels guilt. We didn't know he had..." Wyatt said, before stopping himself, "we didn't know he had a family. We didn't know what he'd be leaving behind. Still, doesn't make what he was doing alright." "They're calling Brighton a hero," Celia whispered, and this caught Wyatt's attention. "...pardon? How does supposedly blowing a man up make one a hero?" "You are aware of the military worship in this country, are you not?" "Shut up," he said, chuckling, "who's...who's been saying that?" "Some fringe environmental papers," Celia said, "because of what Grudin was planning to do to the city parks and infrastructure if elected. Either way nobody else is repeating their claims, not yet anyway, but still...it's...alarming, to say the least. He was an innocent, he didn't even know what he'd gotten involved in. That doesn't excuse him killing his family and himself, but still." "Look, much as I love a light hearted discussion," Wyatt said, making Celia smirk, "I have other things to do today and then Scarlett and I are going to dinner. Do you think we could meet sometime this week and talk about this more in depth somewhere else? Or, hell, even here, I don't care." "Definitely," Celia said, standing up and tugging her purse strap over her shoulder. She headed for the door, but once her hand was on the knob she stopped and looked back at Wyatt, asking, "...did we do the right thing?" "What even IS the right thing, Celia?" Wyatt asked, "Morality is subjective. Just ask any differing religions and you'll get a vaguely categorical answer. We did what we thought was right, and it might not actually make it right, but we did it for what we think was the greater good, and our intentions are what was in the right place, whether our actions were or not. When you start to feel guilty or responsible or anything, just remember, this was what Calvin wanted. Grudin killed his wife and daughter in a drunk driving accident, and this was what Calvin wanted. We didn't do this. Calvin did it. Don't forget that." Celia nodded, then opened the door and exited, leaving Wyatt to his tasks. However, he no longer felt the urge to do much, so instead he powered through the paperwork, then told Ben he was leaving again. When he got home, he did indeed join Scarlett in the shower, and that more than made up for his time in the office. *** Smokem's was crowded, but that only further proved the quality of their food to Wyatt. When he and Scarlett entered, they were led to their table, where Rachel and Sun Rai were already seated, eating cornbread and drinking. Or, at least, Rachel was drinking, since Sun Rai was the one who was going to drive home. Wyatt pulled his suit jacket off and placed it on the back of his chair before pulling out Scarlett's chair for her, then seating himself. "Oooh, what a gentleman," Rachel said mockingly, making him laugh. "I can't help it, my momma raised me to be kindly to the ladies," Wyatt said with a fake southern drawl, "how long have you guys been here? Hopefully you haven't been waiting too long." "No, only about fifteen minutes, long enough to get bread," Rachel said. "It took fifteen minutes to get bread? God, I wonder what the actual wait time for your meal proper is," Scarlett said, giving her drink order to a waitress before looking at Sun Rai and asking, "so, what have you been up to? I don't think we've seen you in like a month." "I've been busy," Sun said, "honestly, I thought going back to school would be easy, but boy it's anything but. I'm so tired all the time. I thought once I got out of school I'd never have to wake up that early again." "You wouldn't, if you didn't re-enroll to college like a loser," Wyatt said, making everyone laugh, before his eyes, scanning the restaurant, caught something interesting...Calvin, here with a woman. Wyatt tried to ignore it, but it was so out of place, that he didn't know he could. "But it's going well," Sun Rai said, "It's nice to not be the best simply because I'm Asian and it's expected of me, you know? I don't wanna be the minority poster child. I just wanna be a normal adult woman who happens to be in college again." Calvin, only half listening, nodding as though he were following. He watched Calvin intently, until he noticed he excused himself from the table and headed into the bathroom. Wyatt immediately did the same, and headed for the restroom as well. When he entered, he didn't see Calvin anywhere, so he knelt down and noticed only one pair of shoes in a stall, indicating they were the only two people in the bathroom. Wyatt leaned against the counter and crossed his arms before clearing his throat. "What are you doing here?" he asked. "Jesus!" Calvin shouted from in the stall, "that's terrifying, don't do that!" After a moment the door opened and Calvin came out, zipping up before heading past Wyatt to the sink and washing his hands. "If you must know, my parents stupidly set me up tonight," Calvin said, "and since I can't say no to them, I guess I had no choice but to be here." "She's pretty," Wyatt said, "you getting along?" "Frankly, Wyatt, I'm not particularly interested in dating," Calvin said, "once your spouse dies, believe it or not, it really puts the futility of romance into question. What about you? You just like BBQ or you checking up on me?" "I didn't even know you were here, remember? I'm just double dating with Rachel and her girlfriend," Wyatt said, "...I saw Celia today. She asked about you." "She did?" "Yeah," Wyatt said, "said you weren't doing great the last time you two talked. We're just worried, man. You doing alright?" Calvin leaned against the counter and nodded, before starting to cry, finally letting it release. Wyatt rubbed his back as Calvin sobbed, breathing hard. "I thought killing him would make me feel better," Calvin said, "but it didn't. Nothing's made my life any better just because he doesn't have a life anymore. My wife and daughter are still dead. All we did was hurt someone unintentionally." "Yeah, I...I know," Wyatt said quietly, "I saw his daughter on the news too." "...what do I do, Wyatt?" Calvin asked. "A hobby? Therapy? I don't know, Calvin, but you don't have to go through it alone, alright? We're here for you, we did this together, we're friends," Wyatt said, patting him on the shoulder, "isn't there anything you like to do? Something to take your mind off stuff?" "I used to participate in science contests," Calvin said, wiping his eyes on his sleeve, "I guess...I guess maybe you're right, maybe a hobby is necessary." Calvin turned away from the sink and looked at Wyatt, before suddenly, albeit somewhat reluctantly, hugging him. "Thank you," he whispered. "Hey man, it's no problem," Wyatt said, hugging him back, smiling, "it's the least we can do for one another." *** Leslie Grudin tucked her daughter into bed that night, read her a story and then, once she was asleep, kissed her on the forehead and headed into the living room. She pulled the cordless phone off its base and dialed a number before sitting down on her couch and waiting. After a few rings, someone finally answered. "It's Leslie," she said, "...do we have any information? Anything new?" "I told you I'd call you when I knew anything," the voice replied. "I'm getting anxious," Leslie said, "someone has to have slipped up somewhere." "There's a man in town," the voice said, "flew in the same night your husband died. He just happened to know the man who supposedly blew him up, that Brighton fellow. I'm keeping close tabs on him for the moment, but so far all he's done is come into town and get a teaching position at a local college. Certainly nothing unusual. Like I said, Leslie, when I know anything even remotely concrete, you will too." "...okay," she whispered, "I'm sorry, I don't mean to be a bother, I just...I miss him so much." "I know you do, and trust me, we'll find out what really happened," the voice said, "I'm the best in this business." Leslie nodded, thanked them for the reassurance and then hung up the phone. She sucked on her lip for a moment, then she picked the phone back up and dialed another number, but before she could finish calling her mother, she heard her daughter, Michelle, standing in the hallway and crying. Leslie put the phone down and looked at Michelle, standing there hugging her doll tightly. "When is daddy coming home?" she asked weakly, and Leslie's heart broke more. She opened her arms up, and Michelle ran across the house to her mother, climbing up into her lap and crying on her as Leslie stroked her hair. It didn't matter what it took, it didn't matter what would happen if she succeeded, she was going to find out what really happened to her husband, and she was going to make the person responsible pay for it. That much was clear. Come hell or high water. |
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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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