"I don't wanna eat it," Mona said, looking up at her dad, "it looks...like it'd make my mouth angry."
"It's cereal, you like cereal," Wyatt said, uncapping the milk, preparing to pour it into the bowl. "Yeah but this is all weird. It has ridges. They feel bad on my tongue," Mona replied and Wyatt stopped. He thought for a moment, capped the milk back and up and put his hands on his hips. "How about Cheerios? Those are smooth," he said, and Mona nodded happily; he patted her on the head and said he'd be right back. Wyatt headed into the kitchen and looked through the cupboard, finding the frosted Cheerios just as the back door opened and Scarlett came in, surprising him. "I cannot believe this," she said. "What are you even doing up?" Wyatt asked, "When did you leave the house? It's Saturday, you never leave the house on Saturdays." "Priscilla called me this morning," Scarlett said, "she told me that she was doing a bake sale at the school, and when she went in to use the bathroom, she passed by the notice board and saw a typed message that said they would be removing my plaque in favor or something else." "What?!" Wyatt asked, now concerned, turning towards her. "I know, right?! So I got up, got dressed and ran down there to see for myself, and sure enough, yeah, they're pulling my plaque out this week to make room for some new plaque about diversity and togetherness and all that crap," Scarlett said, seating herself at the kitchen island on a stool. Wyatt smiled as he poured the milk into this new cereal bowl full of Cheerios. "You're such a thoughtful person," he said, making her chuckle. "You know what I mean. I'm all for diversity, I'm not racist, I just...that plaque was the only thing I had as any kind of legacy, and now it'll be gone forever." "You know you have two kids, right?" "Yeah but I can't just parade them around for respect," Scarlett said, "...come on, you know what I mean. Remember when I got it? It was such a big deal. I tore my tendon and didn't tell anyone, continued to do my cheerleading duties and then, right after the season ended, I wound up in the hospital for weeks. Had to get a cast and have surgery and everything. You came to visit me every day. That plaque was in dedication to my dedication to the team, to leadership and perseverance." Wyatt rubbed her back, standing behind her, cereal bowl in his other hand. He sighed and nodded. "I'm sorry baby, but these things happen," he said, "It's a shame they won't just let you take it." "Yeah," she whispered remorsefully. Wyatt exited, bringing the cereal to Mona, leaving Scarlett alone with her thoughts, which was the worst thing he could've done, because she had an awful thought. Her eyes brightened, and a grin broke out across her face as she began to sit up, a plan formulating inside her head. "...yeeeeah..." she said again, this time with eagerness. *** Wyatt knocked on the hospital door and entered slowly, holding a bouquet of flowers in his hand as he pressed his way into the room. Scarlett looked up from her magazine as she laid in the hospital bed and smiled upon seeing him. "Hiya," he said. "You brought flowers!" she said. "Actually I just stole them from another patients room, but it's the thought that counts," Wyatt said, making her laugh as he handed her the bouquet and then pulled a chair up beside her hospital bed and seated himself, continuing, "So, how long are you gonna be in here for?" "I have to have minor surgery, but otherwise it shouldn't be that long," Scarlett said, "Might have to be in a wheelchair for a few weeks while it heals." "Maybe I'll get one, and we can race," Wyatt said, making her crack up; he grinned and scratched his head, asking, "...are you doing okay though?" "Yeah, I'm...I'm fine, honestly," Scarlett said, "I'm better now that I have company." "What're you reading?" Wyatt asked, leaning back in his chair, putting his hands behind his head. "Uh, it's an article about how to please your man," Scarlett said, picking the magazine back up. "Oh, just what I need help with!" Wyatt said, the both of them laughing. *** "I cannot believe you talked me into this," Wyatt said as they sat in the parking lot of the high school, watching it carefully, waiting for the time to get just right and everyone started to leave; he continued, "This is...this is a crime, plain and simple, you're making me an accessory to a crime, and I know women like to accessorize but this is ridiculous." "Shut up," Scarlett said, chuckling, "This is important to me. I put my heart and soul into cheerleading, and I can't just let them take that away from me. It's one of the only things I really have to be proud of." "Again, two kids," Wyatt said, holding up two fingers and wiggling them. "You know what I mean, aren't you, like, proud of the work you do?" she asked, and Wyatt stopped, thought for a moment, and bit his lip. "No, I'm really not," he said, "If anything I'm disgusted." "Well, what about what you managed to do for the baseball team?" Scarlett asked, "Remember all the effort you put into the team? You were the star pitcher! They admired you. You were considered their most important teammate. They wouldn't have made it without you, just like the cheerleading team wouldn't have made it without me." "...yeah, I guess I get that," Wyatt said, "It's true, I was a major part of that team." "I don't ask for much," Scarlett said, "I'm happy with what we have, and I love our life, but...this means a lot to me, Wyatt. I don't know if I can explain it. It's what made my mom proud of me. She was a cheerleader too, and...and I don't know, she was really proud of what I managed to accomplish, just like her." Wyatt smiled warmly and leaned across the car, kissing her cheek. "I'm proud of you too," he said, "Not just for that, but for everything you do. Every day you help raise two kids, and you keep this little family of ours going and it means a lot to me. You mean a lot to me. I just want you to be happy, and if this'll make you happy, then yeah, I'll help you steal your plaque." Scarlett blushed and watched her husband scout the area with their binoculars. She couldn't believe she'd gotten so lucky to have found a man like Wyatt Bloom. Her mother had had such a rocky marriage, and then a questionable second marriage, that it made Scarlett worry if she'd ever manage to find true happiness, but she had, and she couldn't be more thankful for it. Sure, she knew that, deep down, she should recognize that the real gift in her life was her family, and she did recognize that. But that didn't stop her from wanting her plaque. *** Scarlett hugged the soft plush bunny Wyatt had brought her as he pushed her down the hall in her wheelchair. They weren't going anywhere in particular, he was just taking her for a small ride around the hospital so she wouldn't be so cooped up in that little room all the time. "Don't you have, like, homework to be doing?" Scarlett asked. "Naw, I'll just pay some nerd to do it," Wyatt said, "Besides, hanging out with you is way more fun than homework." "You didn't have to come every day," Scarlett said, sounding almost embarrassed. "Yes I did," Wyatt said, slowing down as they passed by a long series of windows in the hallway that overlooked an enormous garden, adding, "It isn't fair for you to be in here by yourself with nothing to do. I wanna keep you company." "I have my parents stop by, and other friends," Scarlett said, "I don't wanna monopolize your time." "Like I have anything better to do," Wyatt said. After a few moments of going by the windows slowly, Scarlett pushed some of her hair back behind her ear and lowered her voice. "...but would you still be here even if I'd be in this wheelchair forever? Like...let's say that I was in some horrible accident and now I'm in this chair for the rest of my life, would you still be here? Would you still like me as much as you do now?" Wyatt stopped pushing the chair and came around it, kneeling in front of her and holding her hands. "Hey, there's nothing wrong with being handicapped, and yeah, you're still you, even if your legs didn't work," Wyatt said, "why...why would you even ask that?" "I guess cause some of the boys I've dated have only seemed interested in my looks, and what I can bring them as a social status," Scarlett said, "Like, it's all about physicality with them. I'm a cheerleader, I'm popular, so they use me as some kind of trophy. I guess I just was curious if you'd still like me even if I couldn't walk." "Scarlett, that's ridiculous," Wyatt said, "your legs, nice as they are, are not your entire person. You're more than just your beauty, and any guy who doesn't see that is an idiot. Okay, I admit it, I've dated girls before simply because they were pretty, but I always wound up finding things I really genuinely liked about them after a while. But with you, it's been the opposite. I found you were really funny and nice first, and only after a while did it begin to dawn on me just how pretty you were." Scarlett blushed as Wyatt reached up and put his hand on her cheek. "I really like you, Scar," Wyatt said, "even if you resemble Steven Hawing." She laughed as he leaned in and kissed her, and she kissed him back. Yes, she'd fallen for Wyatt Bloom long before, but this was the moment she realized she was going to spend the rest of her life with this man, for better... ...or for worse. *** The door opened easily enough with some force, and Wyatt and Scarlett made their way inside the school. Walking down the halls in the dark, with only a flashlight to guide them, something made Wyatt nervous. He shivered as he handed Scarlett the flashlight and crowbar and zipped up his windbreaker. "Boy it's creepy in here," he said. "God, it seemed like we'd be here forever," Scarlett said as they passed by a row of lockers and she reached out, touching her fingers to them, running them along as they walked on by, saying, "I just couldn't fathom one day not being in school, even though I knew it was inevitably an eventuality." "I'm so glad to be out of here," Wyatt said, "This place was hell. I mean, it was certainly easier for kids like us, who were well liked, popular, but...it still was awful. I do not look forward to our kids being in high school, especially Mona. Ever since her diagnosis, I've had to re-examine every aspect of our lives and make sure nothing makes her uncomfortable, and high school is unrelenting and the kids are monsters." "Not much different from adults, in all honesty," Scarlett said, spinning the crowbar in her hand. "You know what I mean. They find the one kid with the worst handicap and they just latch onto them and torture them for the next 4 years, and I don't want Mona to go through that," Wyatt said, stuffing his hands into his coat pockets and looking at his shoes as they walked by, continuing with, "I just...I want her to be safe." "Wyatt, look," Scarlett said, hitting his arm and pulling his attention to a glass case wherein a slew of awards and photos and trophies were. "Wow," Wyatt said, "Look, there we are." "...are you dissatisfied with life? Like, when you look at yearbooks or come to reunions, are you ever unhappy with where you ended up instead of where you thought you'd end up?" Scarlett asked. "...not really, no. I mean, I...I'm not super pleased with my job a lot of the times, but as far as where I am, with you and the kids, I'm really happy. I'm exactly where I wanna be," Wyatt said, kissing her head and making her blush. "Alright, enough cute shit, let's smash this bitch," Scarlett said. "That's my girl," Wyatt said, as he stepped back and let her smash the glass around the enclosure before handing him the crowbar and letting him peel away at the plaque, attempting to free it from the shelf it was stuck to. After a few minutes, still struggling, Scarlett began to get giddy. "This is so exciting!" Scarlett said. "It is kinda exhilarating, yeah," Wyatt replied. "Let's make out when we get outta here," Scarlett said. "Don't gotta convince me," Wyatt said, finally tugging hard enough to lift the plaque from the shelf, grabbing it and tucking it under his arm as he took his wifes hand and the two of them raced down the hallway and out the front doors of the school back across the parking lot and into their car. "Gun it!" Scarlett shouted, and Wyatt did just that, the both of them laughing loudly and whooping as they made their getaway, Scarlett's plaque in tow. It was the first real 'crime' Wyatt or Scarlett had ever been involved in, but it wouldn't be the last. As they laid on the hood of the car in a field miles away, Scarlett hugging the plaque to her chest as they looked up at the night sky, she couldn't feel happier. "Thank you," she whispered. "Of course baby," Wyatt said, "you know I'd do anything for you." "Sometimes I think that's half the problem," Scarlett said, laughing, "I could talk you into anything." "You're really a liability, yes," Wyatt said, the both of them laughing now. They went quiet again for a while, watching the night sky, listening to the crickets chirping around them and the wind softly rustling the leaves of the nearby trees. "...I know it's just a plaque, and I know I have more to be thankful for, but...we're taught to obsess over youth and I can't let that go. This was my greatest achievement in academics, and it was in cheerleading of all things. I loved it, and I still do, please don't think I'm trying to diminish its importance by saying it wasn't math or science related or whatever. I just...other kids got scholarships, or they got honor roll, or they were valedictorian...but this...this was mine, and it was something I could be proud of." "You never have to explain yourself to me," Wyatt said, "I get it. I really do. It's important that we find things that mean a lot to us and hold onto them as tightly as we can, even if they are, by definition, ridiculous. People act like pride is some horrible act of vanity, when really its simply an act of respect towards ones self, something nobody seems to do anymore." "I love you," Scarlett said quietly, making him smile as he rolled onto his side on the hood of the car and kissed the side of her head. "I love you too," he said softly, "...can we go home? I like to pretend like I'm still young and limber, but lying on this thing is killing my back." Scarlett cracked up and they both slid off the hood, pulled the car doors open and slipped into the interior. After buckling their seatbelts, Wyatt started the car up and they drove home. When they got here, he took her upstairs and after she put the plaque on the bedside table, he made love to her. Scarlett couldn't imagine a more perfect evening, in all honesty. *** Scarlett woke up the next morning to an empty bed. When she rolled over, she found her plaque was gone, and she worried. She then noticed a piece of paper on the bedside table that simply read "downstairs" with a little heart drawn next to it. She got up, somewhat puzzled, and pulled on her pajamas, heading down the stairs where she stopped, noticing the plaque hung on the wall, and then saw Wyatt had made breakfast for everyone at the kitchen table. She stood there for a moment, simultaneously confused and surprised. Wyatt often made breakfast, but he never made a spectacle of it like he was doing this morning. Upon seeing her, he grinned and waved at her. "Good morning," he said happily, "We have something for you." He helped Mona get out of her chair and handed her another plaque, which Mona carried across the room and handed up to her mother. Scarlett took it and read it, tears forming in her eyes. "This plaque is dedicated to Scarlett, the best mother, wife and friend anyone could ever ask for, and for her amazing work in the line of duty," Scarlett read as she knelt down and hugged her daughter, "I love it, and I love you." "I love you too mom!" Mona said happily before racing back to the table to finish eating. Wyatt approached Scarlett and kissed her. "It's not the same, but I felt you deserved a new one," he said, "Now you got two to be proud of." He then led her to the table, where they all ate breakfast together, and, for the first time in a long time, Scarlett felt like part of a team again, and it made her happy. She had been the best cheerleader, but now she was the best mom and wife, and that was just as good. She'd lead this team to victory too, even if it meant taking some heat herself. She looked down at the plaque sitting on the table and she smiled again. She was so loved, and she felt that love fill her heart. Sitting there, eating and watching her family, Scarlett couldn't help but understand what Wyatt meant the other night. Yes, this was the place they were supposed to be, and she was happy to be here, all 5 of them. Wyatt, herself, their two kids and, of course, the little plush bunny that Mona now slept with, never knowing its origins, but loving it just as much as her mother had when Wyatt had given it to her back in high school.
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Wyatt was sitting at his desk in the office, tapping his pen on the table repeatedly as he chewed on his lip, his eyes never leaving the sight of the poster attached to the wall nearby which simply read "There's No Such Thing As An Endangered Forest". He had a nasty, gnawing feeling in his stomach, and he couldn't shake it all morning, no matter what he did. Finally he stood up, walked over to the frame in which the poster hung, and pulled it off the wall. He then headed out of his office, walked all the way downstairs, opened up the backdoor of the building, lifted up the lid of their dumpster and tossed it inside. He then went back indoors and went back to work. The nasty gnawing feeling didn't go away, but it felt a little bit better at least without having to look his guilt directly in the face.
*** "I'm destroying the planet," Wyatt said sourly as he and Celia sat at their table at the nearby bistro for lunch; he continued, "my children are going to have to live with the decisions I've either made or helped make for the sake of money, and their children are going to have to suffer as a result as well. It's making me sick." "Well, I don't think you're solely to blame," Celia said, "but I do think it's good you're recognizing your hand in it nonetheless. You know, I work with a lot of people who would like to enact change, but can't afford to leave their higher paying jobs. I could put you in with one of those groups. You could do some outdoor petitioning, maybe start a community garden...you know, just dip your toe in the water and see how it feels." "I'm afraid to dip my toe in any water at this point, god knows what's living in it now," Wyatt replied, making her choke with laughter; he smiled and added, "but thanks, maybe it is something worth looking into." For the last few weeks, he and Celia had been having lunch like this most days. They each worked downtown, and only about 15 minutes away from one another, so they compromised by finding a spot smack dab in the middle of their office buildings and getting lunch together there. It was a good place, because they each knew nobody from their jobs would travel that far from their respective offices for lunch, so they had nothing to worry about in regards to being seen together, not that they were doing anything besides having lunch. "What's it like? You know...to care about the planet?" Wyatt asked, "Cause my dad, god...he doesn't give a shit about the Earth. He says we have every right to destroy it simply because we live on it. He says the idea of resources vanishing entirely is ridiculous, because why wouldn't the planet just continuously make new resources? Course my dad isn't the sharpest cheese in the drawer." Celia laughed again and nodded, replying with, "Yeah, well, leave that to the generation that thought tupperware was the greatest invention since the invention of inventions." Wyatt smirked. He appreciated Celia's viewpoint on things, and he was beginning to open up to the idea of trying to help the planet instead of hurting it. He and Scarlett had gotten Mona tested a week earlier, and they were simply waiting for a diagnosis, but it seemed like ever since the parent/teacher conference he'd become so much more invested in making the world better for his children, and the children around him, than worse. How much effort would it take before he felt like he'd done right by his kids? Hard to say. But if there was one thing Wyatt was, it was dedicated. *** "I'm late, I know, I'm sorry!" Rachel said as she entered the employee section in the back of the coffee shop, adding, "and I know, how can I be late when I live literally upstairs from the place? Well, it's possible that my alarm didn't go off because it's possible that I threw it at the wall last week and-" Rachel stopped, hands still behind her back as she was tying her apron. She didn't speak. She could barely breath. There, sitting at the table in front of her, was Sun Rai. Her manager, an older woman named Debra, was standing there, holding a clipboard. "Rachel?" Debra asked, finally pulling Rachel back from her shock. "Uh, what?" Rachel asked. "You're late, but it's fine because I'll be on register today while you train our newest employee," Debra said, motioning to Sun, "I'll leave you two to get acquainted." Debra turned and exited the break room leaving the girls alone. "...you're here," Rachel finally said, "...you...you didn't come to the reunion, but you're here." "I didn't go to my high school reunion because I wasn't in town," Sun said, an eyebrow raised, "Do I know you?" "I'm Rachel Minnow," Rachel said, holding out her hand and shaking Sun's, adding, "uh, we...we went to high school together. We had gym class together, do you re-" Sun stood up and hugged her, surprising Rachel, who cautiously hugged her back. "I do remember you!" she said, "You were one of the only kids who were nice to me. I'd ask you how you've been, but considering where we're working..." Rachel laughed. "Yeah, it, uh, it hasn't been great," Rachel said as she pulled her hair up into a ponytail, "What about you though, what are you doing here? I figured you were some successful something somewhere or other." "Boy you're good with words," Sun said, smirking, as she sat back down in her chair and sipped her coffee, "Actually I was a successful something somewhere, but I had to come back home, so. Couldn't stay there anymore. Dad needs me, plus I just...I needed to get away from where I was." "And back to where you escaped from?" Rachel asked, surprising Sun. Rachel turned and grimaced, scratching her forehead as she added, "I'm...I'm sorry, that was rude. Um, it's just that, to so many people we tried so hard to get away from where we're from. Yet, like a magnet, it continually pulls us back to it, and it seems like no matter how much effort we put in, we'll never really be clear of the place." "...is this part of my training, or are you just always this maudlin?" Sun asked, making Rachel laugh. "Well," Rachel said, "I'm happy you're back." "Well, that makes one person," Sun said. *** Wyatt was stood in an aisle of the hardware store, looking at weed killers. He had a clipboard in his hand, taking inventory, but he couldn't get past the imagery on the weed killer bottle; a dozen or so ants killed surrounding a dandelion, which was also wilting presumably from the weed killer. Wyatt reached out and gently touched the bottle, his stomach churning. "Wyatt?" a voice asked, making him jump as he turned to see one of his younger employees, Ben, standing there. "Jesus Benjamin!" he shouted, "don't sneak up on people like that!" "Uh, I was just curious where you wanted this shipment of-" "Ben, can I ask you a question?" Wyatt asked. "Uh...I...I guess, sure?" "Do you think the planet's in trouble?" Wyatt asked, "Do you...do you think we should be doing more, as a species, to perpetuate our longevity instead of killing innocent animals and ruining precious land? I'm standing here, and I'm staring at this weed killer, and...and we consider anything smaller than us a 'pest', you know? Ants, gophers, fucking dandelions. Anything that shouldn't be where we think is okay to be is considered a nuisance, yet we never seem to admit to ourselves that we're the ones who moved in uninvited. We're like an untrained dog mother earth just brought inside without thinking twice, and all we've done is bite the hand that feeds." Ben rubbed his arm, surprised but also a bit confused as to Wyatt's speech. He cleared his throat and waited for Wyatt to finish. "What am I doing here?" Wyatt asked, "You know? Look at this shit, there's poison in this. There's poison in this and we're putting it on the place we live on. The place our children live on. And somehow we think that's okay, somehow we justify the actions we take because oh, we won't be around for the consequences, as if that makes it alright. Ben, please, tell me we're not the bad guys." Ben shrugged and grimaced. "I mean...we're the bad guys, Wyatt," Ben said, "There's...there's no arguing that." "Fuck," Wyatt said under his breath, "...alright, you know what? New store policy. We're not stocking anything with poison in it, and we're not stocking anything that might kill an animal. I don't care if people take offense at my stance, I'll take the hit for it, but I refuse to continue to be an active participant in the ongoing destruction of the planet." Ben nodded, looking at the weed killer, saying, "I'll pack it all up and have it shipped back asap." "Than you," Wyatt said, turning and walking away down the aisle. "Uh, where are you going?" Ben called after him. "To see a lady about a purpose," Wyatt answered. *** "God, how do you stand it here?" Sun asked as they sat at a small table in the corner on their break, eating bear claws and people watching; Sun continued with, "like, all these people who think they're better than you. Though, shameful to admit, I used to be like them, so. Who's the real hypocrite here?" "Mostly I just fantasize about slowly killing everyone in their sleep," Rachel said, "...what do you mean you used to be like them?" "Before I moved back home I was working at a hospital, doing internship while I was getting my degree," Sun said, "and I used to go get coffee for everyone, and I was kind of rude to the people who served me. The people who were just trying to survive themselves. I just thought because I'd worked hard, or because I was in a field that was inherently considered 'worthwhile' - because nobody sees the service industry as worthwhile despite them literally giving us things we need everyday - that somehow I was better than them or something. I feel so bad about that now." "Eh, I think being a doctor is more worthwhile," Rachel said, shrugging, "but perhaps I'm just so jaded that I can't help but be critical anymore. I mean, sure, the service industry is a necessity and sure, nobody deserves to be treated poorly because of the line of work they're in, but let's be real here...a barista never removed somebody's kidney to save their life." Sun giggled and the sound of her laughter filled Rachel's heart with joy. She hadn't heard Sun's voice, Sun's laughter, in ages, and it was just as beautiful as she could remember it. "I mean, I wanted to be an artist," Rachel said, "So maybe I'm not the one who should be making judgements about peoples career decisions." "I'm glad you're here," Sun said, "There's nothing worse than getting a new job with nobody you know." Rachel wanted to cry at this statement. She'd been so upset at Sun not showing up at the reunion, and now she was going to get to see her every day, all day, and she began to feel like, perhaps, she did win in the end after all. *** Celia was sitting on her couch, reading a book, when a knock came at her front door. She put a bookmark between her pages, stood up and walked to the door, answering it, only to find Wyatt standing on her porch. She was, admittedly, surprised. "Are you alone?" he asked. "Well, you're here," she replied, making him smirk. "You know what I mean. Your kid's not here?" "Of course not, it's the middle of the day. They're at school," Celia said, "Please, come inside." She stepped aside, allowing Wyatt to enter the building. He smoothed out his hair as he entered and Celia shut the door behind him. She crossed her arms and leaned against the wall as he paced across her living room floor. "What are you even doing here?" she asked. "I had an epiphany today," Wyatt said, "I'm the bad guy. I don't wanna be the bad guy anymore. I don't wanna be remembered by history as one of the men who helped doom the planet and his own species for the almighty dollar. That isn't a legacy to be proud of. Who's going to remember me if nobody's around to remember me?" "Astute observation," Celia said. "So I just..." Wyatt said, scratching his cheek, "I need to do something more. Something better. I need to do some kind of protest work or something. I can't keep doing what I do and ignoring the long term effects for short term results. Just because something makes me money doesn't make it okay to do. Ask the people involved in illegal pornography. Sure, they make buckets of money, but that doesn't make it morally okay." "A weird comparison, but alright," Celia said, half laughing, "Well, we can sign you up for protests and events and whatnot. Any help is appreciated. I'm proud of you, honestly, it takes a lot to admit you're doing the wrong thing, especially when you're directly involved." "Scarlett would never say she's proud of me," Wyatt said, surprising Celia as she crossed the room to the kitchen to pour Wyatt a drink; he continued, "I mean, she loves me, she's my best friend, but...she also loves the money. She loves what I bring to the family, and the lifestyle. She'd be angry at me for leaving it behind." "Well," Celia said, uncorking a bottle of wine and pouring some into a glass for him, handing it to him across the counter as she said, "I can't blame her. It's hard to turn down comfortable living for the sake of continued living for the future of the species. I'm not short sighted, Wyatt. I see why these people do what they do, and I understand it. Just because I don't agree with it doesn't mean I don't get it. You can be wrong for understandable reasons." Wyatt took the glass, nodded, and then downed the entire thing in one swallow. He wiped his mouth on his sleeve and sighed. "I need to know that I did everything I could to make my childrens lives, and in effect, their childrens lives, better...not worse," Wyatt said, "How can I be a good father by hurting mother earth? That's just misogyny." "Well I wouldn't go that far, but sure, I get the sentiment," Celia said, chuckling, "It takes a big man to admit he cares about something other than himself." "Well I am the biggest man," Wyatt said, "I am huge in manliness." Celia laughed and patted his shoulder as she headed down the hall to her home office. "Come on, let's look at some of the possible groups we could assign you to." *** Rachel flopped down on the couch when she got home, just sighing, staring up at the ceiling. Sun Rai was back in her life suddenly, out of the blue, and her world felt so much brighter because of it. It was amazing what just having the right person around do for someone. She wanted to go onto the roof of her apartment and just scream about how happy she was, but instead she took a shower, made some soup and fell asleep on the couch to an old western movie. Unfortunately for Sun, her homecoming wasn't as good for her as it was for Rachel. When she arrived at her parents house that night after work, she found her father already asleep in his recliner. She muted the TV, then gently woke him up and took him to his bedroom, where she helped him lay down and put the blankets up around him. Afterwards she wound up in the kitchen, where she found her mother, Shen, making some tea and reading a magazine. "Dad's in bed," Sun said. "Thank you," Shen said, "What do you think of this patio furniture?" she asked, holding the magazine out so Sun could see it. "I think it's garish," Sun said, "But if that's the look you're going for then it's spot on." "How was work?" Shen asked. "...you know what?" Sun asked as she opened the freezer and pulled out a carton of ice cream, "...it was good. I had a good day. I haven't had an actual good day in a long time, but I had a good day today, mom." Shen smiled, walked across the room and kissed her daughter on the forehead. "I'm happy for you," she said, patting her cheek, "I'm going to bed. Sleep good, Cricket." After Shen disappeared, Sun sat down at the kitchen table and ate ice cream out of the carton, thinking about her new life, her new job, her new old friend, and she smiled. Rachel was wrong. There was no such thing as a more respectful line of work. In fact, work didn't even need to fulfill you. You just had to be happy that you were managing to survive. Still, she appreciated Rachel's point of view. She picked up the phone off the wall and dialed a number. After a few rings, Rachel answered, sounding groggy; Sun asked, "I didn't wake you did I? Okay. Sorry. Do you wanna do something? I don't wanna be at home right now. Okay, come get me and we'll go." Sun hadn't had friends in her last job, her last life. That was the best thing she got out of this return home. Not the job. Fuck the job. No. The best thing she got was the friend. Because friends are worth more than careers. It had just taken her a long time to see that, and admit it. So Rachel came and picked her up, and the two of them went to a nearby minigolf course. They had ice cream bars and they had pizza and they played minigolf, and for the first time in a long, long time, Rachel and Sun Rai were both happy again. All in all, Sun was right...it really was a pretty good day. Sitting in the hallway of his childrens elementary school, Wyatt Bloom couldn't help but feel anxious. Parent/Teacher conferences always put him on edge. It wasn't that he was uncomfortable with people evaluating his children specifically, it was that he found the mere act of child evaluation sort of sickening overall. You never know what a parent might be like, and if they hear something that's less than stellar than their perception of their child, they may go home and abuse said child in any number of ways, ranging from physical to verbal to emotional. That's too much pressure to put on a kid, frankly. He tried to push the thought out of his head and flipped the page of the magazine he'd brought with him when he heard someone seat themselves in the chair beside him.
"So," Celia said, "Come here often?" Wyatt smirked, replying, "Oh yeah, I'm a regular here. Probably spend more time here than is healthy." "Boy," Celia said, "You've got a problem, you should see someone." They both laughed as she positioned herself more comfortably in her chair and sighed. "It feels like a totally different life, doesn't it?" Celia asked, "Like, high school still seems fairly fresh, but elementary school...it seems like it happened to someone I just watched vicariously instead of living." "I know what you mean, the passage of time screws me up if I think about it too long," Wyatt said, "I know I went to elementary school, I know I did homework, I know I ran on the playground, it just isn't stuff I'm too capable of remembering vividly." "I think it's because a childs brain is still forming at that age, and their long term memory isn't exactly functional because, well, they haven't really lived long term just yet," Celia said, pushing her hair from her eyes, "but I actually am able to remember more than most people it seems. I have more than a handful of very vivid childhood memories and adolescent recollections." "That has to be awkward," Wyatt said. "It certainly makes things, uh, weird, yeah," Celia said, chuckling, "but it's also nice, ya know, it's nice to fondly remember things, especially if it was a good time and it really was, for me at least. I had a good home life, I had friends, I did well in school. Nothing to really complain about." Just then the door to the classroom in front of them opened, and a woman stepped out. "Mr. Bloom?" she asked. "That's me," Wyatt said, standing up and, looking back at Celia before leaving, he added "don't wait up." They chuckled and he headed inside. "Please Mr Bloom, have a seat," the woman said, shutting the door behind him as he sauntered inside; she walked around to the back of her desk and sat down, clearing her throat and rifling through a small stack of folders before finding one she opened. When she looked up, Wyatt was squeezed into one of the childrens school desks. She almost burst out laughing, but years of teaching had given her an incredible amount of restraint. Instead, she merely readjusted her glasses and asked, "...how are you doing?" "I think the blood circulation to my legs is cut off," Wyatt remarked, "but please, go on." "Let me start off by saying that Mona is such a great kid," the teacher, Ms. Dinsburg, said. "If you have to start with compliments, that usually means it only gets worse," Wyatt replied. "You're not wrong," Ms. Dinsburg said, "She's a great kid. She's very easy to talk to, she does her homework and she listens better than anyone else I have. That being said, she doesn't really fit in with the other children. She seems to have absolutely no interest in playing with kids, she's somewhat reserved and she seems to have trouble concentrating sometimes and instead prefers to stick to fantasies." "Well, I don't know if you're aware of this, but...she is a child," Wyatt said, making her smile. "Certainly, but it goes beyond that. She often has an aversion to touching certain things, certain types of paper. For example, recently we did a small class project, and it involved handling construction paper. She wouldn't even touch it after the first time feeling it, she said it made her feel yucky. Same goes with glue. She got glue on her hands one time and, when needing the dry glue peeled off, she started to cry. Normally I might chock this up to just fairly heavy sensitivity, but there's too many correlations between her and other students I've had to ignore it." "...what exactly are you trying to say?" Wyatt asked, now sitting up more directly, concerned. "I think your daughter has a disorder, and I'd recommend you get her checked out for it. Now I'm no medical professional, but it seems to me she some sort of sensory processing condition," Ms. Dinsburg said, sighing before finishing with, "have you ever heard of ASD?" *** "So your folks have no idea?" Rachel asked, standing at the sliding glass door in the kitchen that led out to the backyard as Calvin fixed himself a sandwich. "Nope," he said, screwing the lid back on the mustard, "they know it's my personal space that I use, and besides that, I changed the locks, so they couldn't go in even if they wanted to." "They aren't suspicious of that at all?" Rachel asked, surprised. "Please, I've never given them reason to suspect me of anything. I've got a completely clean record. I've never been arrested, never even for minor offenses like traffic violations, and I've always been fairly forthcoming with my parents. All that goodwill eventually leads to you being able to tell your parents anything and having them believe it automatically." Calvin finished his sandwich and, together, they walked back out to the patio in the backyard and seated themselves so he could eat. Rachel sipped on the beer he'd given her and wiped her mouth on her flannel sleeve before exhaling. "And you've never even built a bomb before?" Rachel asked. "Nope," Calvin said, taking a bite of his sandwich, chewing and swallowing before replying again, continuing with, "it's surprisingly easy, actually. For something they don't want people to do, they sure allow a lot of people to write about the subject." "When do you think you'll be done?" Rachel asked. "No idea," Calvin said, shrugging, "I have a date in mind, but who knows if I'll reach it." "You know," Rachel said, "you could theoretically use coffee beans. If you keep beans in a sealed container, like a mason jar, without opening them daily, it produces an effect called offgassing. This means that, when finally opened, it could explode. It isn't dangerous exactly, but perhaps, in mass quantity. See, coffee beans have carbon dioxide when roasted, and carbon dioxide is what's often responsible for explosions through gaslines." "Why do you know this?" Calvin asked. "I really liked science in school," Rachel said, shrugging, "Either way, I can get a bunch of beans from work and we can see what we can do with it." "That's a possibility, but the thing I've noticed about bomb building, especially from watching shows about true crime, is that you don't want to stick out. You don't want to be unique. The greatest thing you can accomplish when building an explosive is to be as mundane and standard as possible. A fingerprint makes you far more identifiable." "Yeah but you're only building one," Rachel said, "Besides, there's receipts with your name on it for fertilizer. They can trace that. But if some coffee beans just disappear from work, a workplace you don't work at by the way, they would never expect that." Calvin tossed his bangs from his eyes and looked towards the shed. He sighed and shrugged again. "I suppose we could see," Calvin said. "Alright then," Rachel said, "Let's commit some crimes." *** Wyatt was sitting back in the hall, reading over some papers Ms. Dinsburg had given him, when Celia approached and sat down beside him. He leaned back and sighed deeply, running his hands down his face, putting the papers on his lap. Celia cocked her head and looked at the papers and then back at Wyatt. "Not go well?" she asked. "Have you ever heard of ASD?" Wyatt asked. "Autism Spectrum Disorder?" Celia asked, and Wyatt nodded. "Yeah. She says my daughter is an excellent student, but she thinks she has sensory processing issues and wants us to get her checked out," Wyatt said. "And that makes you mad? You don't like the idea of having a disabled child?" Celia asked. "What?" Wyatt asked, looking at her now, an eyebrow raised, "no, no I...I don't care. I'm mad at myself. I mean...Mona's never really liked crowds. She's never really liked lots of noise. And what do I do for a living? I work in an industry dedicating itself to the deforestation of the earth, bringing in more civilization, making the world a more crowded, noisy place. I'm directly responsible for making the world around her worse for her. I don't want her to have a life that's painful for her because I had a hand in making the world worse for her." "...wow, that's...that's deep," Celia said, patting his knee, "but, you're not responsible. These things happen. Like you said at your office, you need to support your family. People with ASD find ways to cope, ways to manage, ways to survive. She knows you love her, and so long as you support her-" "How can I support her while simultaneously making the world worse for her to exist in?" Wyatt asked, sitting up again now, "that's not supportive! If anything I'm being unsupportive! In fact, she's so unsupported that I may as well change my name to Adobe Software!" Celia laughed, which made Wyatt crack a little smile. "I just...I don't know what to do," he said flatly, "...I need to do better." "We'd all like to do better for our children, by our children, but in the end sometimes the most we can do is simply love them." "You said I'd get disenchanted with what I do, with the life I lead. You're not wrong. I already was. I just didn't wanna admit it. I have everything. Everything one could strive to attain in the modern world, and I have it. A comfortable home life, a loving family, a cushy job, and...I'm so far from fulfilled. How original, right? Wow, someone who achieved the "american dream" and finds it's more a nightmare than a dream. How cliche. But you know what? Maybe it's a cliche for a reason, because it keeps happening, because it's that true." "...I don't know what to say," Celia said quietly. Wyatt, leaning back on the bench, rolled his head towards her and smiled. "I want to do something more with my life, something I can look back on - something my children can look back on - with pride. You're lucky. You're a good person, and me? I'm just a person," Wyatt said. Celia felt her heart hurt for Wyatt, and wanted to hug him and tell him everything would be okay. Tell him that, deep down, he really was a good person, but she knew she couldn't afford to be that affectionate upfront towards a married man in their kids school no less. After a few minutes passed, a handful of other parents passing them in the hall, chatting and laughing, Celia looked back at Wyatt and smiled warmly. "I have to get home, but maybe you'd like to go get something to eat first?" she asked. "...I could eat," Wyatt said after a pause, getting up and following her down the hall, adding, "but please, nothing healthy. I've suffered enough today." *** Rachel and Calvin were sitting in Rachel's car, parked in the lot across the street from her place of work, waiting for the shop to shut down. She had a pair of binoculars in her hands, peering through them, waiting for the lights to switch off inside. She pulled the binoculars down and looked at Calvin, who was reading one of his many library books on bombs. "Why are you doing this?" Calvin asked, without looking up. "...what? Helping you? I don't know. I guess cause I've got no reason not to. Look at my life, Cal. I dropped out of college, I live by myself, above the place I work at, and the brightest spot in my life recently was my high school reunion and only to see someone who didn't even show up. Not exactly a fairy tale life is it?" Rachel asked. "A few weeks ago you told me you were 'living the dream' and now you're saying this is no sort of life to be proud of? Make up your mind!" Calvin replied, chuckling. "Something being easy doesn't equate it to being good," Rachel said, "Yeah, sure, there's no expectations on me and that means there's no pressures, but that also means I have absolutely no goals to reach for because I'm too scared to even try anything. Yeah, I'm alive, but I'm not doing much living." Just then the lights switched off, Calvin pointed and Rachel got out of the car. Calvin watched as the last employee of the night exited out the front, then watched as Rachel ran across the street and around to the back. She used her key, gained entrance, all while the other employee got in their car and drove away. After what seemed like ten of fifteen minutes, Rachel came back, carrying a box full of bags of beans. Calvin got out, took her cars and opened the trunk, watching her plop them inside. They shut the trunk and looked at one another, and Calvin shook his head. "You shouldn't throw the possibility of a life away just because you don't have one now," Calvin said, "I've already lost what I had, but you can start over. I cannot." "But you're my friend now, and I have to stick by my friends. I screwed that up once already, I can't screw it up again," Rachel mumbled. Calvin furrowed his brow. He wasn't sure what she meant by this - he had no context for her past with Kelly - but he appreciated her honesty and companionship nonetheless. Suddenly Rachel hugged him, then the two of them climbed back into her car and drove back to his folks house. After she helped load the beans into the shed, they bid one another goodnight, and Rachel went home. When she arrived back to her apartment, she heated something up for dinner in the microwave and pulled off a photo album, seating herself on the bed and flipping through the pages while she ate. Photos of her and Kelly during the summer at amusement parks, having birthdays, sleepovers, holiday get togethers. The girls had once been inseparable, and now the only time they'd seen one another in the past decade was at their high school reunion. She'd let Kelly down, and she'd always felt bad about that. She couldn't go through that again with Calvin. Rachel needed to have friends. She needed to help. She needed to be needed, even if it meant perhaps being involved in something criminal. Sure, Calvin was right, she could start over, but really... ...that was too much effort too, and he knew how she felt about effort. *** "I just don't feel like things were so hard for kids when we were kids," Wyatt said, looking out the window near their booth in the diner, his hands wrapped around a mug of hot coffee as they waited for their order; he continued, "I mean, I know there's always been worry about illness, disorders, stranger danger and shit, but...it just seems like kids today have it so much more difficult than we did, and we're only making things harder for them as they get older. Instead of making the world fairer, easier, less difficult or complex to navigate let alone exist in than it was for us, we're making it more difficult for them as they grow up. That doesn't seem right. The people who come after you shouldn't have to suffer in the same ways you suffered, am I wrong?" "Not at all," Celia said, pouring sugar into her coffee and stirring it, "between the housing market and student debt, the continually decimated economy and wars in countries we have no business even being in, yeah, shit's gotten worse. We like to pretend it hasn't. We like to say we have better technology or are more accepting and open minded, but better technology only leads to more expectations and we're not more open minded, we just pretend we are. The majority of us are still bigots. The mere fact that you, a once white prominent high school baseball star is even having coffee with me, a black woman who works in environmentalism, is something to be surprised by, even if it shouldn't be. We still have all the racist, sexist ideals we once had. We're just better at hiding them now." Wyatt nodded as the waitress set his steak and eggs on the table and then went back for Celia's food. "I just want her to be happy," Wyatt said, picking up his wrapped utensils and freeing them from their napkin tomb, adding, "She's my daughter, she's the world to me, and I wanna give the world to her. But when I see how fucked up the world is, especially for someone with her potential disorder, is it even something worth giving?" "She'll be okay if you just get her tested, find out for sure and help her cope," Celia said, "It's not a terminal illness, Wyatt, it's just a processing disorder. Sounds are sharper. Textures are rougher. Lights are brighter. These people find ways to have perfectly happy lives in spite of their differences. So long as she has that support, and you seem nothing if not overly supportive, she'll be fine." Wyatt smiled at Celia's kindness as he started to cut into his steak. The waitress returned with Celia's food - a small salad and a watercress sandwich - and placed it on the table, then said if they needed anything she'd be nearby, before turning and leaving them alone. As Celia dug into her food, Wyatt couldn't help but feel good about what she'd said. He was a supportive father, and he wasn't a bigot. Scarlett said nice things about him all the time, but it's harder to take compliments about your person at face value when they come from someone who can only see the good in you. But coming from a stranger? Yeah, those he could see a genuine. "Maybe I should become a vegetarian," Wyatt said, chewing on his steak, "if I wanna help make the world a better place and all." "God, life is hard enough, don't make it worse for yourself," Celia said, the both of them laughing. |
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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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