Rachel was standing in front of a dozen different types of paints, chewing on her lip as she tried to decide what colors she wanted. It'd been a while since she'd tried painting again, but she felt somewhat reinvigorated thanks to her friendship with Sun, and she felt like maybe now painting wouldn't be attached to pain. As she reached out for a yellow acrylic she heard someone step beside her. She glanced to her side and spotted a woman about her age standing there, also looking at the paints.
"Need help?" Rachel asked, "I'm a professional painter." "Oh, no, I just...my daughters doctor said that painting can be a good outlet for her, as a kind of therapy, so I thought I'd pop in and see what I could get." "What's wrong with her?" Rachel asked, then laughing nervously she scratched her forehead and added, "Sorry, that...that was rude. Um, I mean like, why's she have a therapist?" "Not really a therapist, just a general specialized doctor. She's ASD and so we've been having to learn how to help her cope with things in ways that are healthy for her," the woman said, "...you're a professional painter? What do you think would be a good thing to paint?" "Does she like animals?" "Very much so." "I'd suggest she start with something simple, like an easy animal," Rachel said, "You know what, why don't you and your daughter come to my studio apartment, and I can teach you guys. It's been a while since I painted, and I'd love to have some company, especially if I can help someone else." "I think it'd be better if you came over to our place," the woman said, "It's big, and she doesn't like going to other peoples homes." "Fair enough," Rachel said, "Give me your address." The woman took Rachel's hand, pulled out a pen from her purse and wrote her address down on her hand. Afterwards she stepped back and held her hand out for Rachel to shake, which she did, the both of them smiling warmly. "I'm Rachel," Rachel said. "Scarlett, it's nice to meet you," Scarlett Bloom said. *** Wyatt was sitting in his office, doing paperwork, when he heard the door open. He looked up and spotted Ben entering, with Celia behind him. Wyatt dropped his pen on the table and smiled at them both, even though Ben looked annoyed and somewhat upset. "Sorry, she said it couldn't wait, she said she knew you personally," Ben said. "It's fine Ben, it's alright, she's not lying," Wyatt said, "Shut the door on your way out." Ben nodded, exiting the office and shutting the door. Celia watched him leave, then turned back to the desk and sat down across from Wyatt, putting her purse in her lap. She laughed awkwardly. "Wow, he's high strung," she said. "He really is, it's upsetting considering how young he is. Nobody should be that high strung at that age. So what are you doing here?" Wyatt asked, "I haven't been able to get any of that proof you asked for yet, if that's what you-" "Morgana is about to demolish a beautiful heavily forested park," Celia said, surprising him. "W...what?" he asked. "They've got friends in high places, apparently. Usually you have to wait months, fight tooth and nail for permits, but they're starting construction in just a week or so, right around Halloween. I just felt like you should know that it's not really necessary to get that proof now, because by the time we convince anyone - if we even manage to - it'll be too late." "But that...that's like, illegal," Wyatt said, "This is bullshit." "Well there's not much we can do at this point, so I just thought I'd drop by and let you know you can save yourself some time and energy," Celia said, "I have to get back to work. I'm on my lunch break." "...we could sabotage them," Wyatt said, making Celia stop at the door, hand on the knob. "What?" "You heard me." "Yeah, that's the problem." "They're not playing by the rules, so why should anyone?" Wyatt asked, standing up and approaching Celia, coming around the desk, "I mean, fuck it, right? What's the worst that could happen? I'm not saying we do something awful or endangering, but just...damage a piece of equipment or whatever. Something minor yet major enough to force them to waste more time getting new equipment." "Wyatt, I...I appreciate your attempts at taking what I do seriously, but this is beyond what I think I'm comfortable with and-" "So you're gonna get me invested in saving the planet, making the world a better place for our kids, and then bail at the last minute?" he asked, leaning on the desk now, scoffing, his arms folded, "fuck, and here I thought you were serious." "I...I am, I...I just..." Celia stopped and sighed, "Wyatt, I don't have a husband. I don't have a partner. I have a son to think about. If I'm taken away, god knows what happens to him. I can't risk my freedom. He needs me too much. You're different, you have a wife, you have family." Wyatt nodded. She wasn't wrong, and he couldn't argue with that. He sighed and bit his lip, then shrugged, looking away from her. She approached Wyatt and put her hand on his shoulder, causing him to look at her again. She smiled sweetly. "You're a good man," she said, "You'll find a way to help the environment in your own way, but it won't be this way. I'm just happy to have been able to get you interested in the idea whatsoever. I feel like I accomplished something just by doing that." "You really did," Wyatt said, smiling back. After a moment they hugged and afterwards she excused herself, leaving Wyatt alone in his office. He walked back around behind his desk and seated himself again. He wanted to go back to work, but he found it hard to focus, and instead after a few minutes he got back up, pulled his coat on and headed out of the room and towards the front of the store. As he approached the front door, he passed by Ben at the counter. "Sir? Where are you going?" Ben asked. "I'm going to see my daughter," Wyatt said. *** "So which animal do you like best?" Rachel asked, kneeling down to Mona's eye level as she flipped through a book and then finally stopped and pointed at a tiger. "I wanna paint that," she said, "Is it easy?" "Everything's easy once you learn how to do it," Rachel said, propping the book up on the small table by her easel and saying, "the thing is, you need reference points. You can always look back at your source image, and then change whatever you want to your own version of it. So why don't you start by making a general outline of the tiger, okay?" Mona smiled and nodded, quickly getting to painting, as Rachel walked back to her own easel just as Scarlett entered the room, carrying two beers, handing one to Rachel who thanked her. Scarlett stood by Rachels side and watched her begin to paint. "Do you find painting therapeutic?" she asked, sipping her beer. "Yeah, I guess," Rachel said, "It helps to get out the things I can't get out of myself any other way." "Like what?" Scarlett asked. "I don't know. Stuff you wouldn't tell anyone but an actual therapist," Rachel said, "stuff like how much you love someone but can't tell them because you fear that admittance might cause you to lose them." Scarlett looked over at Mona, then back at Rachel. "I've been married for years now, and I guess I don't really know what that's like," she said, "but I'm sorry if you do." The front door opened, and Scarlett rushed into the foyer only to find Wyatt coming in. He followed her into the living room where the girls were painting, waved at them, then turned and began to head into the kitchen, Scarlett on his heels. As he set his shopping bags down on the kitchen table, Scarlett stopped and watched from the doorway. "What are you doing home?" she asked. "I don't wanna work in my field anymore," Wyatt said, "I wanted to see my family. That was more important than being in the office all day." "What do you mean you don't want to-" "Is Mona busy?" "She's being taught how to paint," Scarlett said, "Remember? Her doctor gave us a list of suggestions and that's the one she chose?" "Yeah," Wyatt said, "Well, that'll have to wait, cause I'm taking her somewhere." He walked back through the foyer, into the room, took Mona by the hand and said he was taking her out for a bit. She didn't hesitate a bit and instead set her brush down and followed her father, leaving Scarlett standing there befuddled. After a moment, she walked into the room and looked at Rachel, who was busy cleaning her brush in her cup of water. "What were you saying about being happily married?" Rachel asked, making Scarlett smirk. "New girl, too soon for the wisecracks," she said, despite appreciating her company in the moment. Scarlett sighed and walked into the room, taking Mona's place and putting a new canvas on the easel, starting her own painting while drinking, "...I've never seen him like that. He didn't even tell me where he was taking her. He was just so direct, that's not like Wyatt." "People are weird and can change in a heartbeat," Rachel said, "One minute you think you're doing everything right, everything that'll make those closest to you happiest, and then you do one little thing for yourself and suddenly you're on everyones shit list." "Speaking from experience?" Scarlett asked. "God if only you knew," Rachel said, "My parents are just...jesus. Your kid is lucky to have you guys, you guys seem cool. I wish my parents were cool. Stuffy stuck up old fashioned sons of bitches." Scarlett thought for a moment while painting, and then nodded. Yeah. Rachel was right. She and Wyatt were in fact good parents, and Mona was in fact lucky to have them as parents. Funny that sometimes it takes a stranger to point out the most obvious things to us, she thought. *** Celia, actually, had a date that night. She just didn't want to announce that to Wyatt. As she walked into the living room, freshly showered and well dressed, she spotted her son and his babysitter sitting together on the couch, reading a storybook. She waved at them, said she'd be back late, then kissed her sons head and exited the house. Her date, a man she'd been seeing on and off for a while lately named Arnold, was sitting in his car in the driveway. Upon seeing her, he climbed out of the car, ran around to the other side and opened the door for her. She thanked him as she got in, and he went back around to the drivers side, then started the car and backed out. "You look beautiful," he said. "Thanks," Celia said, being somewhat quiet, looking out the window. "You alright?" he asked. "...I've had a weird day," Celia said, "but it's alright. Where are we eating?" *** "Wyatt and I have been together for so long that I think at this point I'll have spent more of my life with him than without him, and it's weird to think about," Scarlett said. "I'd kill to have something like that," Rachel said, "but I'm too scared to get close to anyone." "It's hard," Scarlett said, "but it's worth it. He's the best thing in my life besides my kids, even if his mom is a pain in the ass to deal with. He's a good man, todays example notwithstanding. He's not selfish, he's supportive, and he's romantic. Any woman would be happy to have him as their husband." "And you're not?" "I'm happy to have him as my husband. I just wish I knew why that isn't enough sometimes," Scarlett said, "I mean, have I just accepted what every woman before us thought was good enough? Get married, have kids, love your husband, etc. Is it wrong to want something more? Not something different, because I'm happy with those aspects, but...something more...worthwhile? That sounds wrong. Um, something more seemingly important? I don't know how to word this." "You wanna leave behind some kind of legacy beyond just being a brood mare," Rachel said, making Scarlett cackle. "Precisely!" she said, looking at her canvas, "I mean...I like being a mom, and a wife, but at the same time...a few weeks ago his mom stopped by and said that women wind up being nothing more than extensions of their husbands and their children. That by becoming wives and mothers they lose all their interests, hobbies, identity, and...and while I wanted to argue with her, it seems she might have been right." "She's not right, you just haven't proven her wrong yet," Rachel said, "if she was right, then that means my mother was right and I'm..." She stopped, causing Scarlett to become curious. "You're what?" "Nothing. Forget it." "What are you painting?" Scarlett asked, peering over at her canvas. "Just a woman I know," Rachel said, getting back to her portrait of Sun. *** Celia wanted to forget her meeting with Wyatt, but something about it was bothering her. She wanted to put it out of her mind, have a good evening, enjoy her time with Arnold, but she was finding it difficult. All that rattled around inside her head were the things Wyatt had said to her, and she was starting to feel guilty after all...getting him so invested and then letting him down at the last minute. Seemed like he was more committed to the cause than she was at this point. "Are you okay?" Arnold asked, breaking through her barriers, bringing her back to the moment. "Uh, yeah, I'm sorry, I had a meeting today that didn't go the way I wanted it to," Celia said, "You know how it goes. It's just been on my mind since then." "You gotta learn to leave the work at work, girl," Arnold said, "I mean, you do whatever you want, I'm not trying to tell you what to do, I just know that my mother was a lawyer and she brought her work home and she suffered greatly cause of it. Don't wanna see that happen to you." "Usually I do leave it at work," Celia said, smiling, appreciating his thoughtfulness as she added, "but something about this meeting rubbed me the wrong way and it's made me feel like maybe I don't care enough about what I do. I mean, if you're invested in a cause, wouldn't you do anything to uphold your beliefs, your ideals?" "Depends on the cause and who it affects," Arnold said, shrugging, undoing his napkin and putting it on his lap as their plates were set on the table; he continued, "I think ultimately the amount of effort one puts into something directly correlates to how important it is to the world at large." "...this is pretty important to the world," Celia mumbled, feeling even worse now, but that wasn't Arnold's fault. He was right, after all. Just then she heard someone stop at their table and looked up to see a young woman standing there, looking at her nervously; Celia smiled politely and asked, "Can I help you?" "You don't remember me," the woman said, "I'm Anna. I was in the meeting you had with the Morgana execs a few months back. Um, I just...I wanted to give this to you, but you cannot tell anyone where you got it." With that, she reached into her coat, pulled out a manila envelope and pushed it into Celia's hands, then walked away briskly. Arnold looked at Celia, who looked up at him from the envelope. He leaned forward, furrowed his brow and whispered. "Are you a secret agent?" he asked, making her giggle. She really did appreciate the way he could cut the tension. Celia picked up the envelope and opened it, pulling out a few papers, and quickly skimming them, becoming more and more horrified at what she was reading. Arnold cut into his steak and asked, "Everything okay?" "...I need you drop me off at a friends after we're done," she said coldly. *** Rachel stepped back from her canvas, admiring her work, as Scarlett came to her side and looked as well. "Wow," Scarlett said, "That's wonderful. You say it's someone you know?" "Yeah, just a friend," Rachel said, "Maybe I'll give it to her for her birthday or something." "Someone you wish wasn't just a friend?" Scarlett asked, worrying Rachel who looked at her now; Scarlett shrugged and smirked, "I could tell by the way you said 'just a friend'. It's cool, I don't care. I'm just curious why you're tiptoeing around something you so badly want." Rachel sighed and flopped down onto the couch, Scarlett seating herself beside her. "I don't know," Rachel said, "I'm scared. My parents still don't know, and I'm worried what they'll think if they do, but then I think how stupid it is to even care about what they think because I'm a grown ass woman and I'm allowed to be whoever I am, right? Allowed to love whoever I love? At least you're supposed to be able to. And yet, I'm just...terrified. Also I'm scared she won't feel the same way." "You'll never know if you don't do anything about it," Scarlett said, "Though I know what you mean; you don't wanna run the risk of ruining a solid friendship. I got lucky cause Wyatt and I fell for one another pretty instantly after meeting. I can't imagine what it would've been like if it'd had been difficult or whatever. But I think you should say something. Better to live with certainty, even if it's a certainty you didn't want, than uncertainty, right?" "Yeah but with uncertainty I can always lie to myself, fantasize it could be," Rachel said, "I don't know." Rachel checked her watch and sighed. "It's late, I should get going." "Do you wanna do this again?" Scarlett asked, "I think it's been actually more beneficial for me than my daughter, surprisingly." "Sure," Rachel said, laughing as she stood up to gather her equipment. Scarlett helped Rachel get her things together, carried them out to the car and got it all packed in. They made a date for another painting and drinking session, then Rachel drove home. Scarlett cleaned up the house a little, and was happy to see Wyatt and Mona when they came in. Mona gave her mom a hug and then rushed upstairs to take a bath. Scarlett looked at Wyatt, both standing in the dining room. "Sorry about being so brisk earlier," Wyatt said, "I just wanted to take her out and show her the world isn't so bad if she just has the right people with her and-" Scarlett didn't let him finish. Instead she kissed him, then told him to follow her upstairs. He agreed, but first he had to get something from the car. He rushed outside, and got to his car, digging around inside for the box of candy he'd bought for her while out. It wasn't until he pulled himself out of the car again that he noticed someone standing in the driveway with him, scaring him and making him shout a little. "Christ!" he yelled, putting his hand to his chest, "Celia, what the hell are you-" "Read this," she said, approaching him, shoving the envelope into his hands. Wyatt looked at her, confused, then pulled the papers out of the envelope and started reading them, thumbing through them, his eyes widening at each new page. After he was done he looked back at Celia, who was now leaning against his car, arms folded. "Where did you get this?" he asked. "An assistant from Morgana came up to me tonight at dinner. She had been in a meeting we'd taken a few months ago and she wanted to give me it then but she couldn't. She was too scared. Turns out she's braver than I am after all," Celia said. "...why...why are showing me this? I mean, after what we talked about today, you made it sound like you-" "Yeah, I take it back," Celia said, surprising Wyatt as she stared him down and said coldly, "let's sabotage the sons of bitches."
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"Robert Grudin is out of the race for election," the news anchor said solemnly, "after his vehicle exploded abruptly this evening, and the hopeful potential elect was killed inside it. Police have their suspects, but no arrests have been made thusfar. The main suspect is also deceased. Still, the community mourns a man who could've been great for them, had one angry individual not taken him away from us. This is-"
The TV clicked off. Calvin leaned back against the couch, exhaling, as he rolled his head and looked over at Rachel who was seated on the couch alongside him. Rachel looked at Calvin, bit her lip and shook her head, then leaned forward and buried her face in her hands, running them up through her hair. "...I can't believe this," she whispered, "I can't believe it happened. It all just seems so surreal." "That mother fucker," Calvin muttered. "What?" Rachel asked, turning and looking back at him. "That was my goal, my decision, and he took it away from me. I was supposed to do it for my family, and he took my vengeance out of my hands," Calvin said, "mother fucker. I never liked him." "Why?" Wyatt asked, stepping back into the living room, beer in hand, Celia right behind him; he sipped the beer then asked again, "inform me why you never liked me." "Because you always had to be the center of attention!" Calvin said sternly, standing up now, almost face to face with Wyatt, adding, "and now look what you've done! Nobody asked you to do this for me! Nobody asked you to...to take away what was rightfully mine to do! He destroyed my family!" "Calvin, I just saved you from a lifetime of prison, alright? Trust me, you would've been one of the first people they looked at. That situation was highly publicized, and you two were closely entwined. They would've come for you almost instantly. What I did was divert that attention to someone else, and give us a bit of breathing room to figure out what our next move is." Wyatt sighed, wiped his mouth on his jacket sleeve then sat down on a nearby ottoman, Celia seating herself beside him. "Now," Wyatt said, "...let's figure out a way to make sure this never comes back to us." *** Robert Grudin was heading out to his car when he heard his wife running up behind him. In an outstretched arm, she held his coffee cup, which he graciously took before kissing her on the cheek and then getting into his car. He started it up, pulled out of the driveway and headed down the street, completely unaware that the car across the street from his house, the one that'd been there all night, had also started up and was following him closely. Calvin gripped the steering wheel tightly, his knuckles turning white. Simply being in the general vicinity of this man made him want to do awful things. He heard the sound of a chip bag crunching and he looked to the passenger seat to see Rachel sitting there, shoveling chips into her mouth and chewing noisily. "What?" she asked. "Nothing." "Where are we even going?" "We're gonna get a sense of his schedule. I need to keep tabs on it, make sure it doesn't change. That way I can pick the right day," Calvin said, "It needs to be an ordinary day, not a day where something unexpected happens." "I'm pretty sure getting blown is rather unexpected, but I get what you mean," Rachel replied, making him smirk. She adjusted herself in the seat, tossed the now empty chip bag into the back of the car and asked, "so...you're gonna explode a politician? That's a pretty serious target." "He deserves it." "Frankly they all do, but that goes without saying," Rachel said, "So what did this one do? Raise taxes?" Calvin stayed quiet. He didn't want her to have any more details than she needed to have, just on the off chance they were somehow caught before or after the fact. This way she couldn't incriminate herself and be considered a suspect. He wanted to keep her safe. This wasn't her fight, after all. She was simply along for the ride. "Well," Rachel said, "Whatever it was, it must've been serious. People don't just blow someone up for no good reason." "You have no idea," Calvin mumbled. *** Calvin had begun having trouble sleeping. He'd always had light insomnia, but after the accident, after the loss, he really couldn't sleep. Which was unfortunate, because being asleep was what he wanted to escape the constant reminders of what had been lost, and yet each sleep brought with it dreams about what he no longer had. Calvin simply had no way of winning. One evening, Calvin dragged himself out of bed at around four in the morning and headed downstairs. He pulled a package of cookies from the cabinet and plopped himself down on the couch in the living room, putting the television on mute so it wouldn't wake his folks, and sat there in the dark eating cookies and staring at the screen. Distraction was the only thing that worked. Buying himself a few precious hours from the regular rotation of pain that engulfed his mind nonstop was all he could really hope for anymore. Sitting there, he didn't even realize that he'd begun to cry. It wasn't until he felt his pajamas getting stained with tears that he was aware he was crying and he knew why. After glancing back up at the TV screen, he saw there was a commercial for some princess toy line. Something his daughter had wanted for her last birthday. Had he known it'd be her actual last birthday, he probably would've tried harder to track them down and get them for her. Toy commercials now made him sob. Here he was, a grown ass man, crying at a princess toy commercial. He missed them so much. His wife, his daughter, his family. The family that he only had a beginning with. He'd been told by many people - often friends of his parents - that the less you knew someone the less it hurt, but he didn't believe that. If anything, the grief was worse because with them gone, he could see how great it all could've been had they been allowed to stick around. He could see what he missed out on. What it all could've grown into. Calvin fell asleep on the couch that night, and when his father woke him about two hours later, morning cup of coffee in hand, he just held Calvin for a while, and let his son be sad. Calvin was eternally grateful for his parents, and eternally angry that he'd never get the chance to be one himself. And Robert Grudin was going to pay for that, no matter the cost. *** "Nobody told me that, as an adult, the majority of your time spent was running errands," Rachel said, "seriously, if I'd had known that I was going to spend most of my time doing laundry and grocery shopping, I'd have perhaps tried not growing up so fast." "I'd kill to do something mundane," Calvin said softly, "I loved grocery shopping with my wife." Rachel looked at him, smiling. "That's really cute," she said, "I had that with my friend Kelly, back in high school. We were inseparable. We did everything together and it was so much fun. You never realize how much you can get along with someone until you find that someone, nor how much it hurts to lose it once they're gone." "He killed my family," Calvin said suddenly, shocking Rachel with this random admittance. She stared at him, almost in disbelief of not just what he'd said, but the fact that he'd just so openly and casually said it; Calvin continued, "Robert Grudin killed my family. I don't mean like he meant to, it was an accident, I'll grant him that much, but...but he did it, and he never took responsibility for it." "How could he not-" "Because he's famous, Rachel, duh. Famous people can get away with anything," Calvin said, "It was stupid of me to believe that he'd be held accountable for his actions. And frankly, I might've even let that slide, if he hadn't then made the accident about drinking and driving. He was driving home drunk, which was what caused the accident, and then instead of accepting blame, showing he's a decent man, he decides to state that his goal while in office will be to make the streets safer and crack down on alcoholics. He used what he'd done to my family as a way to further his career." "Jesus, guy deserves to be blown up," Rachel said. "Exactly," Calvin said, "...she supported him. Stacy did. She wanted us to vote for him. We went to rallies and shit. Then he kills her, our children, and uses his actions to try and gain a lead over his rivals. People tell me that time heals all wounds, but I don't buy into that. I think the only thing that heals anything is vengeance." Rachel chewed her lip and leaned back in her chair, pushing her bangs from her eyes. "...do you think she'd want you to be doing this?" Rachel asked. "You know, shortly after she died, my mother paid for me to see a therapist, and they asked the same thing. Course, back then I wasn't thinking about blowing the man up, and they were asking me if she'd want me to continue to not trying to get better. They said 'do you think she'd want you to live your life like this?' and I just thought the audacity of this idiot was galling, because they didn't even know her. How dare they think they'd know what she would feel. I'm the one who married her. I'm the one who knew, if anything." "And?" "Yeah, I think she would. We used to joke about the people we wanted dead," Calvin said, "We'd catch somebody we hated on TV or somewhere out in public and be like hey we should add them to the list." "Yeah but, dude, there's a difference between an in joke and actually blowing a human being up," Rachel said, "You do realize that, right?" Calvin looked down at the steering wheel and sighed. "I do, but I don't care," Calvin said, "I got no reason to not do it, that's the thing. Sure, I got my folks, and yeah, you're my friend, but what reason do I really have for not doing it? Had he apologized, had he taken even the smallest bit of blame, hell, had he not even used it to his advantage, I would've let it go. But when someone does something so horrible, so overtly evil, they shouldn't be allowed to get away with it. How can we continue to believe in a concept like justice when it so regularly gets disproved?" Rachel nodded. He had a point. Still...she wanted to talk him out of it in some way. "Calvin-" "Rachel, I appreciate your friendship, and I appreciate how much you care, but I've made up my mind," Calvin said, "his slogan was 'Choosin' Grudin!' and believe me, I chose him." Hard to argue with that, she figured. *** Rachel felt fingers tapping the top of her head, and she slowly lifted her face off the break table in the back room, catching sight of Sun as she finished tying her apron around her waist and smoothing it down the front, now facing Rachel. "You look exhausted," she said. "I had a long night," Rachel said, yawning and holding out her mug, "Coffee." Sun smiled and took the mug, filling it up with the machine in the counter, then handing the mug back to her as she seated herself across the table from Rachel. Rachel sat upwards and sipped the coffee. "You do something exciting? Out late? You have a hot date?" Sun asked. "God I wish," Rachel said, "No, I was helping a friend with a project." "Oh. Well, that's still cool." "I...yeah, I wouldn't say that, but okay." "Would you like to come over for dinner?" Sun asked, surprising Rachel as she continued, adding, "I wanna show my mom that I'm adjusting well to being back here, and I think it'd help if she saw I had a friend. My mother's an incredible chef, if that sweetens the deal." "That sounds good. I could use a decent hot meal," Rachel said. "Okay, cool. How about this weekend?" After finishing up making plans, Sun headed out to the counter to take care of the first customers, leaving Rachel behind in the break room to wonder when she'd broken her own code of expectations. Calvin didn't expect anything from her, but Sun...she was getting dangerously close to being relied upon again, and that terrified her. Rachel knew she, if anything, simply wasn't a reliable person, and nobody deserved to be regularly and repeatedly let down by her poor choices. Still...dinner with the girl she'd been crushing hard on for the last 15 years? How could she turn that down? *** Calvin had never really gotten interested in politics, and only did so because Stacy had been so interested. In hindsight, he wished he'd pushed back against it, and perhaps things would've been different, but he knew that living in a world of what ifs never solved anything. The ironic thing was how much politics played up the idea of "being the change you want to see in the world", and Calvin was indeed doing just that. Sitting in his parents shed that morning, looking at how much he'd managed to get done so far, he was pleased with his decisions. He'd never been that driven to do anything too difficult, and he felt good about himself now. Calvin looked down at his mug and noticed it was empty, so he scooted his stool back, stepped off and headed out across the lawn and into the kitchen, where his parents were eating breakfast. As he shut the glass door behind him, they looked up at him and smiled. "Morning," his mother, Amelia, said. "Mornin'," Calvin replied, heading to the coffee machine and filling his cup back up. "Jesus," his father, Barry, said, rustling the newspaper, "Fucking Grudin. He says he's going to allow these companies to destruct more natural resources when elected, stating the progress is more important than natural resources. Says these companies are being tied up in red tape by overbearing tree huggers. What a piece of shit. Like we haven't destroyed enough of the world. What you wanna bet he's getting kickbacks for that decision?" "Well, maybe he'll lose," Amelia said, "He keeps pulling shit like this he's gonna piss off the wrong person." Calvin smirked to himself, his back still to his parents. That was the funny thing, Calvin thought. Nobody ever expected their own children to be the wrong person. Calvin sat in his car, just staring out the window, unsure of how to feel. He sighed, took a sip from his coffee cup and then looked at the passenger side window, where the bouquet of lillies sat. He reached out, put his hand around the end and picked them up, then exited the vehicle. As he walked across the wet freshly mowed grass, he hoisted his jacket further up around his neck with his free hand to keep himself warm. Doing this sort of thing always unnerved him, but he had to do this...
...he had to let her know how he felt. *** "I can't believe you talked me into this, I don't even like athleticism," Sun said as she pulled her rented bowling shoes on as Rachel sat at the table next to her doing the same. "Neither do I," Rachel replied, "It's just nice to get out of the house once in a while, you know? At least that's what my mother used to try and sell me on." "I hope nobody minds that I can't bowl worth a damn," Sun said. "It's okay, neither can I, it's more an excuse for us to socially down nachos in a public forum under the guise of teamwork," Rachel said, sighing as she looked into the distance wistfully, whispering, "...I wish there was a team for that." Sun laughed as she pulled her hair back into a ponytail and watched as the others on their team finished getting the refreshments at the table before she looked back at Rachel, chewing on her lip nervously. "I'm sorry, I'm not very good at dealing with other people these days," Sun said, "Not that I ever was, but before I came back to town I had to do it for work so I sort of got better at it, and now those skills have somewhat atrophied. I'm sort of...bad...at communicating." "Well with word skills like that no one would ever guess," Rachel said, making Sun laugh; Rachel scooted to the side and put her hand on Sun's shoulder, saying, "hey, it'll be fine, okay? I'm here. I'll make sure it goes fine." Sun smiled and nodded. She really appreciated Rachel's kindness and friendship, especially at this time in her life. Unfortunately for Rachel, she wanted it to be more than that. *** "Why are we here?" Wyatt asked, leaning against the snack table and looking at all the people in the room, many of whom were dressed in tacky clothing, unkempt looking in their hygiene and sometimes smelled of weird essential oils. "Because this is the kind of thing you do if you want to take conservation seriously," Celia said, "You go to meetings like this, and you fight big corporations and you offer helpful insight, and considering what you do for a living, your insight will be invaluable." "Oh," Wyatt said, "Well, glad to help. Why aren't they better dressed though?" "Well nobody said activism was fashionable," Celia said, finishing with her paperwork before setting it down on the table and turning around to face the crowd with him, she added, "But when you're trying to save others, the last person you think of is yourself." "That guy has on two different shoes," Wyatt said. "Yeah, some people just can't be helped," Celia said, making him smirk as she said, "Come on, let's sit down." Wyatt and Celia walked across the room and took their seats in the big circle of chairs. An older blonde woman, the only other somewhat well dressed person there, cleared her throat and looked around at the group. "Hello, and welcome to another meeting. As you may know, but I'll reiterate for newcomers, my name is Marriane Bradley and I am the leader of SpareSun. We are a group dedicated to the conservation of the planet, the opposition of the destruction of forests and other natural preserves and of course interested in pushing back against the companies purely interested in pushing us closer to the brink of climate change for the sake of they paycheck." Everyone said hello in unison, which only unnerved Wyatt some more, but he didn't say anything. "We are in sort of in crisis mode right now, actually. I've just been informed that Morgana, a leading company dealing with deforestation for the sake of landscaping, is set to plow down an entire area just outside of town to create high rise condominiums for those looking to 'escape the city life' but still be somewhat near it. Obviously this is our top priority, so who has anything to say about this? Any suggestions or information?" Marriane asked. "Morgana's a scam," Wyatt said out loud, before quickly realizing everyone was looking at him, even Celia, who was somewhat surprised by this outburst; Wyatt adjusted his tie and continued, "Uh, I mean, well, my father worked in the same kind of business, and from what he's told me, Morgana doesn't do things by the book. They cut corners, they're sloppy, they're disorganized, so on and so forth, because a lot of the money they get from the deal they funnel back into a second operation of theirs so they don't have to pay taxes on it and can write it off instead as a business expense." "So you're saying if we could provide proof of this, we could get them tied up in litigation long enough to perhaps build a stronger defense against their actions?" Marriane asked, and Wyatt started to sweat. He looked at his hands, nervously. What in the world was he doing here? This was a direct competitor he was talking about, and his father would kill him if he knew he had said anything he'd been told in confidence. And then he thought about Mona. He thought about how much worse things would be if even the quiet places were suddenly taken away from her, and he remembered why he was doing this. "Possibly," Wyatt said, sitting forward, a bit more brazen now, adding, "In fact, very likely. They'd have to scrounge up a lot of paperwork, paperwork they'd likely prefer to doctor before sending over just in case it even remotely incriminates them, and then if that becomes an issue that's a whole other set of legal hoops they'd have to jump through. You can buy yourself a year or more time wise if you simply convince the right lawyer that a company isn't paying their fair share." Everyone murmured in agreement, and the man with two different shoes hit him lightly in the shoulder with his fist. "Right on, man, good idea," he said. Wyatt leaned back, smiling, massaging his sore shoulder as he shifted towards Celia and whispered. "I've been complimented on by double shoe. Clearly I am an important individual now," he said, making her laugh quietly. *** After bowling, Sun and Rachel were laying on the hood of Rachel's car in the parking lot, looking up at the stars, sharing a large container of nachos between them. Shoveling nachos in her mouth, Rachel spoke, though not particularly clearly. "You did great," she mumbled. "Thanks," Sun said, "It's just been so hard lately to be around others again." "Why did you come back?" Rachel asked, "You said you were an intern at a hospital, but why-" "I was studying to be a doctor," Sun said, "and it was grueling but I'd convinced myself that it was important because my parents had been so adamant that I do something important with my life. They always pushed me to be my best. Don't get me wrong, they aren't bad parents. They love me so much. But they also ask more of me than I'm remotely capable of giving them. After a while I burned out, and then when my dad started getting ill, my mom insisted I come home because I knew about medicine and could help him." "Yikes, I'm sorry," Rachel said. "But I didn't want to. I didn't wanna come back here. As you so elegantly said at work that first day, I'd gotten lucky, I'd escaped. And now...here I am, right back where I started. My mom is thankful I'm here, but you can tell she feels a bit of shame when she talks to her friends or family and all their kids are doing great things, and I'm working at a goddamned coffee shop." "But you're helping your dad, and that's noble," Rachel said, "I'd give anything to help my parents." "Why can't you?" Sun asked, raising an eyebrow in suspicion. "They won't talk to me," Rachel said, "For a slew of reasons." "I'm sorry," Sun said, "I don't know what I'd do without my folks. Sometimes it's overbearing, but like I said, they love me and they do appreciate me being here. I'm grateful to have them." "Nobody ever tells you but the world is even lonelier without family," Rachel said, now sitting up and pulling her legs to her chest, continuing, "you grow up thinking your parents are just the worst, and even if that's true, you miss them once they're no longer in your life. You think sometimes how great it'd be to be an adult, to be the master of your own life, but even if they were extremely toxic and controlling and manipulative, you still feel like an orphan, even if they aren't dead. Nobody ever tells you how lonely life can be without parents." Sun sat up and scooted towards Rachel, hugging her. "It's okay," she whispered, "You're not alone." "I just wish they loved me," Rachel struggled to say, tears starting to fill her eyes and roll down her face, her voice cracking, "all I want is them to love me, love who I am, not who I could've been." "Well, you have people who care," Sun said, "and that's a good substitute, right?" Rachel nodded, then turned and pushed her face into Sun, sobbing. Sun just sat there and patted her back, holding her, telling her time and time again that it was okay, that she could cry, and that she wasn't alone. But Rachel was alone. Sun just didn't know how alone Rachel actually was. *** "I'm surprised," Celia said after the meeting adjourned and they were sitting at a nearby deli having a snack; she took a bite from her sandwich and said, while chewing, "I really didn't expect you to just turn on your old life like that." "I was sitting there and I thought 'what am I even doing' because I could get in so much trouble for sharing insider information, but...then I thought about my daughter and how the other night she couldn't sleep simply because the heater was too loud, and the heater isn't that loud, trust me. But it was loud to her. And I started to think, fuck, if society takes all the quiet places and makes them obnoxiously loud and filled with others, then where will she be able to go to feel safe and free from sound?" Celia nodded, grabbing her drink and taking a long sip. "...I feel disgusting for what I've done to the world, and in turn, what I've done to her, even if only by accident. I want her to be safe and comfortable, and that just isn't a possibility if we continue to damage the planet," Wyatt said, "Besides, there's also the fact that Morgana is in fact a horrible company, and that's coming directly from someone in the industry. Bad as we may be, we're not nearly as bad as they are. There's tiers to tyranny, you know?" "I understand," Celia said, "...but...you're not just doing this to get ahead in business are you? To cut your own competitors down to size? I'm sorry if that's an awful thing to ask, I just-" "No, no, that's totally fair to assume, sure," Wyatt said, "and I don't blame you at all for asking, but no. Maybe a few years ago I would've been underhanded and sleazy enough, but not now. Not with what I know about my kids. I just wanna give them a better place to be once I'm gone." Celia smiled and leaned back in her chair, crossing her arms. "You know," she said, "Back in high school, I always knew you were a good guy deep down. There was a small group of students who hated you purely because you were popular, but I always could tell you weren't a bad person. Glad to see I'm vindicated." "Who hated me? I'll kill them," Wyatt said, making her laugh as he added, "I...I wasn't great back then, but I admit it. I mean, who really was? Teenagers are very morally grey in many ways, and I was not above that. I did some shit I'm not too proud of. But overall, yeah, I didn't make fun of the handicapped or minorities, and I never disrespected women - at least I don't think I did, I guess it's not really my place to say for sure that I didn't - so I guess I tried at least, and that's more than most." "Can you get that paperwork? Can you get some actual dirt on Morgana?" Celia asked, "I'm a lawyer. You and I could take them down directly if you give me the stuff I need." "I probably could. I have some contacts over there. Employees I've been flirting with the idea of poaching, but they'd have to give me what I need in order to have a job with me once Morgana is taking the punches." "Well then," Celia said, lifting her drink, "Let's save the environment." They clinked their drinks and then ate their sandwiches. If only they knew what they were about to unleash. *** When Rachel got home that evening, she took a shower and then sat on her bed, put her headphones on to block out the world and painted her nails, thinking about the stuff Sun had said. The way Sun had held her, and the way she'd talked to her. God, she'd smelled so good. Rachel had so badly wanted to tell Sun how she felt, how she'd always felt, but she knew it wasn't the right moment. Hell, there may never be a right moment, and honestly, Rachel was starting to come to terms with that. Frankly, she was just happy to have Sun back in her life. And when Sun got home that night, she found her mother already asleep, and her father still in his chair, reading the newspaper. Sun brought him a large cup of tea, then gave him his medication and then helped him to bed once they took effect. Then she sat at the kitchen table, her hands cupped around her own mug of tea, and she thought about that night. She'd had a great time bowling, honestly, better than she'd expected, and she smiled. She was so grateful to come home and immediately have a best friend. So why did she feel so awkward about being around Rachel? *** Calvin was sitting in the grass, not saying a thing, the lillies now resting on the grave beside him. He just listened to the wind blowing, listened to the leaves rustling, and he thought about how much he hated this day. A day he used to love he now hated. He sighed and he looked over at the grave and smiled weakly. "Happy birthday," he whispered, reaching out and gently caressing the smooth marble. Calvin then stood up, wiped himself off and walked back across the graveyard and climbed back into his car. Once inside, he looked back out the window, towards his wifes grave, and he wanted to shriek. He could feel he was crying, but he couldn't bring himself to make any noise, no matter how much his insides twisted and turned. He finally started the car, and he started off towards home. Back towards his shed. Back towards building his bomb. His wifes birthday was always so hard, but this year his daughters birthday wouldn't be sad, it'd be a celebration. Because that was the day he'd blow up Robert Grudin. |
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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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