If there's one thing Calvin had learned to be true, it was that practice does indeed make perfect. Or at least makes doing something a 2nd time much easier. Leaning back on the stool in his shed and admiring his handiwork on the table in front of him, he just had to hope it would work. The problem with building bombs, especially in a residential neighborhood, is you cannot generally test them. Now his only concern was finding out how to use it. Calvin had already decided he didn't want to do it at the school. Much as he wanted Mr. Wattson to pay for his crimes, he didn't want the college kids to be in harms way. He was going to have to get him somehow, maybe at his apartment? That could work. A tight confined space.
Calvin bit his lip and thought how this was not the sort of thing you generally are taught in school. How do you blow up a man with little fanfare. *** Wyatt, seated at the outdoor patio table at a nearby deli he'd taken to go to lately, was looking around at the other couples there. For some reason, today, the place seemed to be absolutely packed with couples. He thought of Scarlet and grimaced. Things had been so good for a while after Grudin's death, why had things soured now? The pony didn't help, he knew that much. Scarlett wasn't used to him keeping secrets, nor was he used to doing it. They'd never had a secret between them, and now this secret life...it was creating a divide between them, a divide he feared was unbridgeable the further it got. He heard a chair scrape on the wood and looked across the table to see Kelly sitting down and smiling, plopping her purse down by her feet. "Must be nice to just not have to go to work if you don't want to," Kelly said, making Wyatt chuckle as he lifted his water glass to his lips and took a drink. "Well," he said, shrugging after drinking and setting the glass back down, "it definitely gives me time to be a dad and stuff, which is nice. I realize I'm privileged though, and not everyone has things as lucky as I do, so I try to appreciate the freedom it offers me." "I have to be at work at 4am every day," Kelly said, groaning and running her hand through her shiny blonde hair, "I'm always so exhausted. Sure, I get to leave after the evening news, which isn't super late at all, but still, it leaves me virtually no time to be social or do anything fun." "Well then think of me as your gateway to harder entertainment," Wyatt said. "...did you just compare yourself to weed?" Kelly asked, laughing, making Wyatt shrug again. "Dude, I don't know," he said, laughing softly, "I'm exhausted too, for what it's worth, so a lot of my jokes probably aren't going to land today. Still, it's nice to be able to get out of the house and have lunch with a friend." Kelly blushed and nodded. It was true, she thought. It was nice. She didn't really have any friends at the station, nor did she have many outside of the station. Work, honestly, was all she cared about, and for a long time that didn't bother her. It still didn't, really, but she had begun to start wanting to at least have one person to talk to. Now she had two. Rachel and Wyatt came as a package deal, apparently, and Kelly couldn't be more grateful for that. "When do you leave?" Wyatt asked. "You mean for Cloudcon? Um, in like 24 hours," she said, "I have my ticket, I have my bags packed, I'm really ready, I'm just waiting around now. They'll have an interim weather girl until I get back, so enjoy that." "Is she better than you?" "Are you insinuating I'm not the greatest weather girl ever?" Kelly asked, and Wyatt shrugged. "You said it, not me," he replied, smirking. "...you're an ass," she said, chuckling. Yes, it was nice to have friends. *** Most of his stuff was packed and already being shipped back home, and now all that was in Leonard Wattsons apartment was his suitcase. When he made a plan and stuck to it, he found he could be quite good at sticking to a schedule. Leonard sighed, hands on his hips as he looked around the almost bare apartment, and thought about Oliver. All this time spent here and he was ultimately coming away with nothing. He'd just have to find new people to produce content for him, and that was all there was to it. He groaned. His life was going to be hectic for a bit when he got back home. Suddenly there was a knock at the door, and Leonard turned and walked towards it, tugging it open, surprised to find Calvin of all people standing there. "...hello," Leonard said. "Hi Mr. Wattson," Calvin said, "can I come in?" "...that depends, you plan on throwing a tantrum again?" Leonard asked, the both of them smirking as he stepped aside, allowing Calvin to enter. "...are you...leaving?" Calvin asked. "Something's come up back home, I have to go," Leonard remarked, scratching the back of his head before asking, "so...what is it you want, exactly?" "I want to apologize, for one," Calvin said, "I guess I did go a little of the rails. I just...was disappointed. You were my favorite teacher. It's hard to have someone you admired so much turn out to be so morally dubious is all. But no, I wanted to apologize. Glad I caught you before you left, because I would've felt awful if I didn't get the chance to apologize." Leonard smiled, nodding, his arms folded. "Well, I appreciate that Calvin," he said, "Listen, the world is an awful place. You of all people should be miserably aware of that. Sometimes we have to do things we don't want to in order to survive, and sometimes that includes hurting others, unfortunately. But that doesn't mean I necessarily enjoy it. Yes, I was courting a high school sophomore. Yes, that's morally wrong. It's an illness. But it's such a stigmatized illness, that I can't even really get help for it without being labeled a monster. So I do what I can, try to control myself best I can, and just hope for the best." Calvin clenched his fists into tight balls, nodding slowly. His blood was boiling, and he wanted to take Leonard's glasses right off his face, but he was restraining himself. Calvin looked around the apartment again, noticing there was nowhere to hide his bomb, and began to panic about how he'd accomplish his goal. "I'm sorry, Calvin, and I'm sorry for trying to pull you into the fold," Leonard said, "I just wanted you to have a better life." "I'd love to, but not at the expense of ruining another person," Calvin replied softly. Leonard excused himself and headed to the bathroom, leaving Calvin alone momentarily. As he stood there, looking around the mostly empty apartment his eyes caught sight of something on the nearby kitchen table. It was Mr. Wattsons plane ticket. Calvin lurched forward a bit and looked at the information, reading the flight information and then, reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a pen, quickly uncapped it and, tearing off a nearby paper towel, copied the information down. When he was done, he stuffed the paper towel into his pocket, just as Leonard resurfaced in the room. "Sorry about that," Leonard said, smirking, "flying always makes me nervous, so I've been peeing a lot." "...I guess I'll see you when I see you, Mr. Wattson," Calvin said, as Leonard held his hand out for Calvin to shake, which Calvin did after a moment of hesitation. Just touching him made Calvin feel sick. When Calvin was finally out of the apartment and back downstairs in his car, he pulled the paper towel from his pocket and looked at it. He had information. He had the bomb. He just needed to put two and two together somehow. He wasn't going to let Mr. Wattson leave unscathed. No matter what, he'd see this man receive the same fate as other men who'd hurt children. That much he promised himself. He just had to find a way to make it work. *** "Because, mom, I don't want to," Rachel said, standing in the living room, tapping her nails nervously on the coffee table as Sun Rai laid on the couch, sipping tea; Rachel began pacing, just listening to her mother speaking, occasionally responding; eventually, Rachel sighed and said, "Look, you're the ones who pushed me away. I begged you, literally begged you for years to talk to me, and you didn't want to believe anything I had to say, so why should we start reconciling now? Yeah, well, maybe it's still too painful for me. Goodbye." Rachel hung up, stood still for a moment, and then screamed loudly. Sun Rai looked up from her book and set her mug down on the coffee table. "Everything okay?" she asked. "Is anything ever okay?" Rachel replied. "God, you're so emo," Sun Rai said, smirking, making Rachel laugh nervously. Rachel walked to the couch and Sun pulled her legs up so Rachel could sit down, then laid her legs back down across Rachel's lap. "I tried to tell them about college, about my agent, about everything, but they didn't want to believe it. They said I was trying to ruin a mans career, and then called me melodramatic. If my parents won't believe me, then why should I even tell them things, you know? Fuck it. Not worth the irritant," Rachel said, sighing as she pulled a box out from under the coffee table and opened it, revealing her pot, which she quickly rolled into a joint and lit, leaning back into the couch and smoking. "You never have to forgive them," Sun Rai said, "okay, please don't let society trick you into thinking that you need their acceptance. You're great without them." "Yeah but the world is...fucking....lonely without family," Rachel said, before glancing at Sun and adding, "I mean, sorry, you're family too, I suppose, but...you know what I mean." "I do," Sun Rai said, sitting up, balancing on her elbows, "I do because with my father so sick and presumably on his way out in the next year or so, it's made me realize just how fleeting and fragile your time with your parents is, not to mention your relationship with them in general. Sure, my folks are your typical overbearing Asian stereotypes, but they aren't bad parents, and I'm very grateful to have them and to be able to say I love them, because I know not everyone gets that." Rachel exhaled smoke from her mouth and looked at Sun as she sat up, pulling her legs off Rachel and sitting cross legged now. "But, like you said, I'm here, I can be family," Sun whispered, leaning in and pressing her lips to Rachel's neck, making her blush and giggle. "Ooh that makes this incest," Rachel whispered. "Why do you have to be so creepy about everything," Sun asked, laughing. *** "You gonna bring me back a gift from Cloudcon?" Wyatt asked, stabbing his side salad and pulling some of it into his mouth, chewing as Kelly finished chewing her pastrami sandwich. "A gift? What do you want? There's a guy who sells snow globes that show each city in the event of nuclear winter," Kelly said. "That's awesome," Wyatt said, "get me Chicago. I wanna see it leveled." "What did Chicago ever do to you?" Kelly asked, laughing. "I had a bad hot dog there once and spent most of the trip in the bathroom," Wyatt said, chewing, "fuck Chicago." "Hey," a voice said, causing Wyatt and Kelly to look to the side of the table, noticing Celia was standing there before pulling a chair out and seating herself; she smiled at Kelly and introduced herself, "Hi, I'm Celia. I'm a friend of Wyatt's. I was just coming to have lunch and saw you, figured you'd like some company." "The more the merrier," Kelly said enthusiastically, making Wyatt smile. He liked her eternal openness. Celia waited for someone to take her order - a honey ham and swiss cheese sandwich - before picking up the glass of water they'd brought her and took a long sip from it, then sighing afterwards and wiping her mouth on her blazer sleeve. "And you call yourself a consummate professional," Wyatt said. "I never once used the word 'consummate' and you know it," Celia replied, making them laugh as she added, "so, did you hear about the Evergreens?" This caught Wyatt's attention, and he looked up at her, ignoring his food now as Celia continued. "They're going to some convention to protest and try to get people in the weather industry to listen to them," Celia said, "they claim that people involved with the weather are their best hope for getting their message about saving the environment from rampant industrialization. They came in to speak to me today about it, about their policy and stuff and like if they legally had the right to be there. Don't remember the name of the convention, but these people are dedicated. Unfortunately they're also out of their minds." "...Cloudcon?" Wyatt and Kelly asked in unison as Celia nodded, sipping more water. "Yeah that's it!" she said, pointing at Wyatt, "...why do you know that?" "Because I'm going to that," Kelly said, "I leave tomorrow. actually. I'm the local weathergirl for this area." "I thought you looked familiar," Celia said, pointing at her, "Now I know why!" "Ugh, to think I'll have to share a plane with those people," Kelly said, shaking her head in annoyance as she continue to bite into her sandwich, "weirdos." "Well, it's probably not a long flight, you won't be in the air long," Wyatt said. "Here's to hoping," Kelly replied, not realizing just how true his words would wind up being. *** That evening, when Wyatt arrived home, he found Scarlett making dinner in the kitchen as Mona and her little brother watched TV in the living room. Wyatt headed into the kitchen and put his arms around Scarlett's waist, surprising her from behind as she stood over the stove, and nuzzled his face into her neck, making her laugh. "You're prickly!" she said, "You need to shave." "Hell no, I'm gonna be a silver fox," Wyatt said, stroking his fuzzy face with his hand. "You're in your thirties, you're not allowed to be a silver fox until you're in yours 60s at the earliest," Scarlett said as Wyatt backed away and went to get a drink from the fridge. As he unscrewed a beer and leaned against the fridge, watching his wife cook and drinking his beer, he couldn't help but think how nice it was to come home to this. He sighed and looked at his shoes. "I'm sorry," he said softly, "...I've been a shitty husband lately. I'm sorry." "You're not shitty, dude," Scarlett said, "you're just...I need you to work with me on things, you know? If you're going to make a big purchase, like a pony, then you need to consult me first, okay? I don't hate you. I just want us to work together cause we've always made a great team." Wyatt smiled, nodding. He didn't deserve her, and he knew it. He'd always secretly known it, and had always harbored a small amount of guilt, feeling as though he'd somehow tricked her into loving him, and now he'd trapped her in this life, despite all the evidence she gave him to the contrary proving that she genuinely was happy with what they had. After all, they had their own business, a nice home, two children, and now a pony. What more could one really ask for when it came to creature comforts? Wyatt lifted the beer to his lips again and took another sip, thinking back to lunch with Kelly. He wanted to keep Kelly safe from his life, just like Scarlett. He didn't want these women getting sucked into his web of tangled shit and have to deal with his poor decisions. He felt like he'd already disappointed one woman. He didn't want to disappoint Kelly too. Meanwhile, elsewhere, Calvin wasn't having a great night. He didn't have a wife or children to go home to. Instead, when Calvin entered his parents home that night, after having gotten dinner out, he found his mom sitting alone in the living room, watching some antique grading show on television. Calvin stood in the doorway, hands in his pants pockets, as he watched silently with her for a moment before she noticed him and muted the commercial. "We missed you at dinner," she said, "...your sister called." "...she did?" Calvin asked, and his mother nodded. "She wanted to talk to you but you weren't here," she said, "She sounded good though, or as good as she could." "That's nice to hear," Calvin said, "...I think I'll go to bed." Calvin gave his mother a kiss and then headed upstairs. He took a quick shower, brushed his teeth and then got into his pajamas. He laid in bed for a while, but couldn't fall asleep, so once he was certain his mother had gone to bed too, he snuck back downstairs and, after making some coffee, headed to the shed. He found the bomb sitting just where he'd left it, right on the table. He sat on his stool and stared at it for minutes on end in silence, just sipping from his mug. He needed Mr. Wattson to die. He knew if he let him go, he'd just wind up hurting more children, producing more despicable content from their pain. He couldn't allow that to happen. He was desperate to erase his ilk from the world, and make it a slightly better place. Calvin put his hand on the bomb and touched the cold metal casing, sighing. There just HAD to be a way. And Kelly, well, when she got home to the apartment, she kicked off her shoes and quickly changed into something more comfortable before finishing packing. She just had a few more things to toss into her suitcase before tomorrows flight, a couple odds and ends - notebooks, her bathroom stuff - and once she was done with that, she sat on her bed and flipped on the television. Kelly liked to watch TV while she fell asleep. She flipped through a few channels and then landed on some action film which just happened to be taking place at this particular moment in an airplane. There was some big bad with grandiose plans to blow the plane up with the hero on it, and it was up to the hero to rescue everyone else on the plane. Kelly was asleep within minutes.
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Mona was at school, their son was at Wyatt's parents, and Scarlett had social plans, which left Wyatt with plenty of time for himself, and today he found himself doing simple cataloguing and restocking around the store. It was a slow day, the place was fairly empty, and Ben hadn't come into work either, so he was all alone. Or rather, he would've been, if Celia hadn't stopped by. Now seated on a small stepladder beside him, smoking a joint and watching him do inventory, Celia couldn't help but shake her head in exasperation from the conversation they'd been having.
"We need a contingency plan," Celia said, continuing the conversation of the last half hour; she added after a quick puff, "we need, you know, a backup in case something goes terribly wrong. I'm not saying it will, but it would sure as shit make me feel a lot more comfortable rather than our general plan of just fucking winging it." "We're not winging it," Wyatt said, chuckling as he started to stock some outdoor lightbulbs, "I've always got a plan." "Hide in the attic with a shotgun is not a plan," Celia said, "that's a last stand." "Better than nothing," Wyatt said, shrugging. "...I feel like I should argue with you on that but I also don't know how," Celia remarked under her breath, taking another long puff before checking her wristwatch and sighing, "fuck. I should get back to the office. Walk me to my car?" "Yeah sure, I could use some fresh air," Wyatt said, putting his supplies down and heading out the stores front with Celia. As they headed through the parking lot - Celia had actually parked across the street - Wyatt couldn't help but smile at what a beautiful day it was today. "Why's the parking lot always so crowded?" Celia asked, "there's not even anyone here." "It's the lunch rush for the place next door," Wyatt said, jerking his thumb back over his shoulder, "they have an insane amount of loyal clientele apparently. Never eaten there though. I don't trust anyplace that's that popular. Makes it seem like they must put mind control drugs in the food." Celia and Wyatt laughed as they arrived across the street and into the other parking lot, still strolling towards her car. That's when they noticed the group of people dressed in brightly colored clothing, were hanging around a van, handing out flyers to anyone who happened to come remotely close to them. Celia groaned and shielded one side of her face as they got closer. "What is it?" Wyatt asked. "It's the Evergreens, don't look at-" But it was too late, Wyatt had already glanced out of sheer curiosity, which led to a very young woman - she couldn't have been older than 19 perhaps - to run over to them excitedly and begin walking alongside Wyatt. "Hi! I'm Angie!" she said, "Um, so we're the Evergreens, and we're out here promoting better laws to protect the environment, particularly our local habitats since that's where we can make the biggest difference. So I have this flyer, and some papers, and if you want, maybe you can-" "Angie, I'm gonna stop you right there," Wyatt said, turning to face her, smiling politely, "you seem like an intelligent young woman and your enthusiasm is so infectious the CDC is going to classify you as a pandemic, but quite frankly, I couldn't give less than two shits about your martyr. What you're doing is commendable, yes, the environment - especially local things that add value to the community - should be saved and protected at all costs, but the man you're all parading around killed his family. He killed his little daughters, his wife, and then himself. He's not a hero, no matter what his moral beliefs in other aspects might say. There's no justifying monstrous behavior. You can't just ignore an entire person killing their family and then cherry pick the parts you like best about them to make them look good. So Angie, you seem like a smart kid, but you shouldn't be involved with these people, okay? You're gonna get hurt." With that, he patted her on the arm and he and Celia continued on their way. *** Calvin Klepper liked being at the college. Even though he did most of his work from home, he enjoyed going in and taking it to Leonard in person. Reminded him of being in college himself, a time in his life he genuinely appreciated. As he headed down the halls and reached Leonard's classroom, he was annoyed with himself because he had been a bit late. He'd told Leonard he'd be here earlier, but he must've had something bad for lunch, because Calvin then found himself sitting in the bathroom on his knees for a good 45 minutes before finally feeling well enough to drive over. Either way, hand reaching for the door, he hoped that Leonard would forgive him for his tardiness. As Calvin tugged the door open, however, he was stopped dead in his tracks. Leonard had a young short haired brunette girl pushed up against his desk and was kissing her, her shirt partially undone. Leonard, upon spotting Calvin, quickly stopped what was happening and the two locked eyes. The girl, after recognizing the awkwardness, quickly gathered her things and left. After she was out of the room, Calvin slowly approached the desk as Leonard put on his glasses, readjusting them and chuckling. "College girls, am I right?" he asked. "That wasn't a college girl," Calvin said sternly, "that was Patty O'Tool's 9th grade sister. She's 15." Leonard stopped and stood there, the two of them, each on either side of the desk, staring one another down. "And why do you know this?" Leonard asked, reaching up and adjusting his frames. "Because I've helped Patty O'Toole on numerous occasions here with her work, and her little sister is usually with her because she'll pick her up and bring her here so she doesn't have to be alone at home since their parents work late," Calvin said, his fingers gripping the files he'd brought over all the tighter now, "so you mind telling me why you're making out with a high schooler? Or you gonna play ignorant like you don't know?" Leonard stood there, hands in his pockets, before he finally exhaled and looked down at his shoes. He walked towards the door, locked it, then turned back to face Calvin. "...you know teachers don't make much pay, right?" he asked, "you know that I can barely survive. Even college professors don't always make the best money. You've seen my rinky dink ass apartment, Calvin, you know how I live. How I can afford to live on the salary they give me anyway. A lot of teachers take up second jobs. A way to support themselves while supporting themselves. My second job just so happens to be a little more frowned upon than others." "You're not here to teach, are you?" Calvin asked, his voice low but angry. "I am, but it's not my primary function, no," Leonard said. "You came for Brighton, didn't you? I saw the key to his storage unit on your keyring," Calvin said, "They were right." "Were you the one who entered the unit?" Leonard asked, "I thought it looked a little shuffled through." "You're a sick sack of shit," Calvin said through his gritted teeth. "I provide a service," Leonard said sternly, "one that, yes, is perhaps looked down upon but one that people want to have. By providing said material, perhaps I'm helping others out there to relieve their fantasies without hurting someone else to do so." "But you're still hurting children by creating it!" Calvin shouted, throwing the files at Leonard, who ducked, surprised at this action as Calvin continued, "you can't pretend like it's a noble cause when the production of it is mired in abuse! You're still doing terrible fucking things! So...so you paid Brighton to use his daughters to get your sick material made, that you were then able to peddle to others?" "I'm not the top of the food chain, Calvin," Leonard said, "I'm not the man in charge, I was just A man in charge. But yes. Essentially. Now the way I see it, is we have two options here at this point. Either we walk away from one another, completely disappointed in a failed partnership but never saying anything to anyone regardless, or you could join me. You could make good money, Calvin. Have your own home again. Have a family again someday. And, you know what, because I respect you, I'd even give you a stipulation. Once you had what you wanted, got to where you want to be, you could stop, no questions asked." "Well I'll have you know that I've hidden some of that unit material elsewhere, and I wouldn't hesitate for a moment to give it to the authorities and bring you down," Calvin said, approaching the desk and leaning on it, snarling at Leonard who just smirked and shook his head. "Calvin," he said, "I'm a pillar of the community. An educator. People trust me to be with their kids. Who're they going to believe? You? A washed up sad excuse of a man who's lost everything? Who lives with his parents again and creates fantastical lies to make his life more exciting than it actually is? Think about what you're proposing," Leonard said, "so Brighton killed Grudin and then himself, or vice versa, either way Brighton is out of the picture and I need someone to replace him. You wouldn't even have to produce the material, Cal, I wouldn't make you do that. Just oversee production in general. Or you could continue being nobody." Calvin stepped back and groaned. Leonard had him over a barrel. "Mr. Wattson, why would you...just why?" he finally asked. "People have their proclivities, and some are much more immoral than others but they're still proclivities," Leonard said, "I'm trying to help people overcome these things in the safest manner possible. I don't condemn them for their interests, not that I approve either, but at least, like I said, perhaps I can stop them from hurting others if I provide them with material." "You cannot tell me you're not approving when you're making out with goddamned high schoolers!" Calvin shouted, "We're done." Calvin turned and hastily exited, leaving Leonard Wattson to sit on his desk, thinking about what just transpired. Once Calvin got outside, back into the hall, he leaned against it and began to dry heave. Everyone had been right. He'd tried so hard to give Mr. Wattson the benefit of the doubt, he'd even become his friend, but Wyatt and Rachel and Celia, they'd all been right. His head swam. He needed to...he needed to... ...he needed to build a bomb. *** Rachel was at her apartment, making coffee. Despite it being almost 8pm, she still wanted coffee, despite Sun telling her before she headed to her parents not to do it. But, whatever, screw her. Sun wasn't here, and coffee was. As Rachel started the machine, someone knocked at her door. She sighed and went to answer it, surprised to find Calvin standing there. "Oh!" she said, "Oh, what are you-" "He's the one," Calvin said, making his way into the apartment, Rachel shutting the door behind him and pulling her overshirt closed over her underwear, looking at him funny; Calvin started pacing and continued, "Mr. Wattson, he's the one. He did it. He did it all. You guys were right. You were right all along." "Calvin, just...breath, okay?" Rachel said, approaching him, putting a hand on his arm, "Calm down, okay, and just tell me slow as you can what-" "Why is the world so fucking sick, Rachel?" Calvin asked, his face streaming with tears, his eyes red like he'd already been crying for hours, "why...why do people get so much enjoyment out of hurting one another, innocent people too! Innocent fucking people! Like children! And nobody stops them! Somebody has to stop them! ...somebody has to stop them..." Rachel put her hand to her heart, feeling genuinely sad for Calvin. He was in so much pain, had so much grief, and she didn't know how to help him. "You know how people pray when they go to bed?" Calvin asked, wiping his face on his flannel sleeve, clearing his throat, "I pray too. I pray that I die. I wish I'd been in that car. I wish it'd been me and not my daughters and not my wife. I wish, maybe...even just one of them had survived. The world without family is cold fucking place, Rachel. I know you know that, being queer and being separate from your family as a result of that, I know you know what I mean. The world feels so fucking bleak and empty, even if you have great friends like you are, but..." Calvin leaned against the wall and ran both hands down his face, taking a long, deep breath. "...I'm not a bad person. I'm not a murderer. I'm not a monster. I'm just cleaning up the trash everyone else is willing to leave littering the streets," he said, voice still shaky, "I think I'm disappointed, more than anything else. Someone I trusted so much, believed in, admired...and he's just as bad as the rest of the filth. Really goes to show you never know someone, huh?" Calvin reached for the door, but Rachel grabbed his shirt. "You're gonna be okay to drive?" she asked. "I didn't drink," Calvin said, smirking, "but yeah, I think...I think I'll be alright. I'm gonna go home, plunge myself into a project." "That's a good idea, a hobby always helps," Rachel said, smiling back. As she watched Calvin leave, standing there in the doorway, she couldn't have known. She couldn't have known that he was going to build another bomb. That he had plans to take someone else out. And really who could fault her? How could she had known that in less than 72 hours...Calvin Klepper would have killed over one hundred people? *** Leonard Wattson opened the door to his apartment and flicked on the lights. He plopped his suitcase down by the door, shut it behind him, then headed for the fridge. He needed some lemonade. Anything to take his mind off today. He was reckless, he knew that, he knew he shouldn't have gotten involved on school grounds. But Calvin had been so late, he just didn't expect him to show up at all, and he let his libido get the better of him. Leonard pulled the lemonade container from the fridge, popped the cap off and took a good, long swig. Afterwards he leaned against the fridge, one hand in his pocket, the other gripping the lemonade container, and licked his lips and sighing. He'd have to leave. That much he knew. He hadn't really gained anything out of coming back here, and the only thing he'd truly done was ruin a former favorite students opinion of him. He had to go now. There was nothing to be found from this Brighton case, he was dead, his family was dead, and if there had been some kind of cover up, there was nothing he could find of it. He had at one point, especially tonight, questioned whether Calvin had been the one to have had a hand in it, but he couldn't really believe that. All Calvin had done was enter a former classmates storage unit, likely out of curiosity. No. Leonard didn't want to do anymore damage to Calvin than Calvin had already done to himself. It was time to go. Leonard figured that, in the morning, he would gather up his most important things, tell the school there was an emergency and book a plane ticket to his former city for a few days from now. He drank some more lemonade, before recapping it and putting it back in the fridge. *** "Hello?" Kelly answered, picking up the phone and tucking it under her chin, smiling as she heard Wyatt's voice, "hiya! What are you doing calling me?" "Just checkin' in," Wyatt said, "Wife isn't home yet, kids are in bed, so I got lonely. What are you up to? I'm just watching some thing on the history channel about mummies and curses." "Sounds like a good time," Kelly remarked as she plopped down some more folded clothes into a suitcase, "Actually, I'm packing. I leave for CloudCon in like two days, so. Have to get this stuff ready to roll, pronto, you know? I'm a little excited too cause it got a few more days added to it, but I only needed to attend the stuff I was already going, but since I can stay on the news channels dime, I'll just relax by the pool." "Anything to get some paid time off, right?" Wyatt asked, raising his beer to his lips and sipping it, sighing, "alright, well, what are you up to tomorrow? You still need to pack or you wanna have lunch or something?" "That could be arranged," Kelly said, smiling as she locked her suitcase and sat on the bedside, "um...you gonna be alright with me being gone for a little while? Hah. I know that, ya know, lately we've been pretty chummy just cause you needed someone and I don't mind being there and helping and listening if it keeps you from, ya know, throwing yourself off a bridge, but still. You think you'll be okay til I get back?" "I think so, yeah," Wyatt said, nodding to himself, "things aren't so bad right now." "I'll stop by before I leave, just to see you and your family!" Kelly said, "but sure, let's do lunch tomorrow." They made some plans - lunch at a little mexican place near the studio so she didn't have to go far - and then they hung up their respective phones. Wyatt exhaled deeply through his nose and lifted his beer back to his lips. He liked having friends. He liked knowing that he had people he could talk to, who weren't a part of his family or the weird fucked up situation he'd gotten himself into, who just wanted to genuinely listen to him. If only he'd done something sooner. If only he'd made Calvin listen to him. If only they'd been actual friends instead of mildly irritated acquaintances, all of this could've possibly been avoided. Because 72 hours from now, Wyatt and Calvin would be standing in Wyatt's kitchen, Wyatt grabbing and shaking Calvin by the collar of his shirt, screaming at him for something he could've stopped, if only he'd seen the warning signs. Wyatt exited the shed momentarily, finding Rachel sitting on the grass, her back against the outside, smoking a cigarette. He leaned beside her and she glanced up at him, then handed him her cigarette, but he smiled and shook his head. Rachel shrugged and went back to smoking. A cool breeze blew through the yard, and Wyatt exhaled, shaking the leaves in the tree overhead the shed.
"You know," Wyatt said, almost laughing, "I never expected to know any of you. In high school, none of us really talked. I think I spoke to Calvin once or twice, but only cause we had similar classes. But you and Celia? Nah. And certainly not Kelly." "You were too cool for losers like us," Rachel remarked, taking an offensively long drag. "I wasn't that kind of popular," Wyatt said, sounding defensive, "you know that. I didn't put anyone down, I wasn't a bully. I was a nice guy. I was popular because I wasn't like that. Regardless, I don't have to defend my teenage self, and we're all friends now." "Yeah but would we be otherwise?" Rachel asked, wiping her face on her sweatshirt sleeve before looking up at him, her messy ponytail swinging behind her as they locked eyes and she continued, "I mean, seriously, would be if we weren't involved in this situation? Think about it, before the reunion we weren't speaking. We all lived in the same town. We shopped at the same grocery store. You and Celia have children in the same school. And yet none of us ever took the initiative to approach one another and start up a friendship. So would we be friends now, if not for what we did? We're friends by proxy of crime, a lot of crime which wasn't even perpetrated by us, for the record." Wyatt nodded slowly. Rachel had a valid point. She looked away from him, breaking the gaze, and focusing back on her cigarette for a minute or two before putting it out in the grass and stuffing the remains in her shirt pocket, before struggling to stand up. Wyatt held his hand out, and she graciously took it as he helped her up. She brushed her pants off and then looked at him. "For what it's worth," Wyatt said, "...I'm glad we're friends. Who wants to have friends in high school anyway? It's all superficial. At least this is real." Rachel smiled weakly, nodding in agreement. "There's certainly nothing fake about this, you got that right," she said, and together they headed back into the shed. Inside, Calvin was pacing furiously while Celia sat on a stool, drinking a beer. Both stopped their actions upon Wyatt and Rachel's return, and watched Wyatt shut and bolt the door upon re-entry. After a moment, Calvin put his hands on the work table in the center of the shed and sighed. "...Brighton wasn't an idiot, but he wasn't a genius either," Calvin finally said, "and...and I think I found something linking him directly to Mr. Wattson outside of just the key I took from Leonard. It isn't anything concrete, perhaps nothing even substantial, but I do think it's enough to warrant discussion, even if I still think the connection is strenuous at best and deserves more research before jumping to conclusions." "How many former teachers are you friends with, Calvin?" Celia asked, "...cause it's not a common thing." "You keep saying you found something, but we've been here for like two hours and you ain't showed us shit yet," Wyatt said, starting to sound annoyed, "so if you really think you have something, put your money where your mouth is. Let's see it." "Like I said, it's not substantial, I don't think, but it's curious nonetheless," Calvin said, pulling a video tape from a shoebox and popping it into the tiny TV with the attached VCR before stepping back and pressing play. The screen fizzled to life, static and snow, color bars, and then finally a very blurry Oliver Brighton came into view as he adjusted the camera and then stepped back, waving and smiling into the lens before seating himself on a chair. He appeared to be in the storage unit, surrounded by his boxes of illicit smut. "Hello," Brighton said, "this is Oliver Brighton, making a sort of last will and video testament. Um, this video is for Leonard Wattson." "He looks like hell," Celia said. "Guys, look at the date," Rachel said, pointing with her finger at the screen to the date in the corner of the TV, "this was recorded the night he..." "Shit she's right," Celia whispered. "Leonard has been nothing but the best friend I could ever have, and has given me so many amazing opportunities, and that's why I'm taking this moment to thank him personally. He changed my life and allowed me to be who I really was, and for that I'll be forever grateful. But things have changed, and I must sort of tender my resignation at this point, and for that I apologize profusely. Together, Leonard and I made amazing work, and I'll always love what he allowed me to do, but I...I have to do something now that he's not going to be pleased with, so...Leonard, if you're watching this, I'm so so sorry. Please don't be upset with me." "Why didn't Leonard see this?" Celia asked, "wouldn't you think he'd have left it in a place he'd have easily found it?" "That's the thing," Calvin said, leaning against the table, arms crossed, "I think, in his disheveled state, he put it in whatever box he could in that moment before he went home and did his deed. I don't think he was in his right state of mind to think about where to properly put this thing for Leonard to see. Regardless, his lack of forethought is to our benefit." Brighton, on screen, started crying, burying his face in his hands, and for a split second, Rachel felt bad. There was the scared little geeky boy she remembered from school. The quiet, introverted nice boy who'd always helped her on coursework when she'd needed it, who'd even remembered her well enough to say hello to her the night of the reunion. She bit her lip and looked down. She couldn't watch any more of this. "I'm so sorry, Leonard. I didn't do anything wrong, but I fear I'm going to be the scapegoat for everything, including what we do," Brighton finally said after regaining a small sense of composure, "and I refuse to be used the way you let me use others. Call me selfish, I don't care. I'm selfish. I know that. There's nothing you could say to me, about me, that would make me feel worse than I already feel about myself. I didn't wanna be this way. To like...these kinds of things. So thank you for at least letting me express that outlet, but also fuck you for doing so instead of trying to make me get help. Fuck you Mr. Wattson." And with that Brighton leaned forward and shut the camera off again, leaving everyone to stand and stew in silence momentarily before Celia crushed her beer can and tossed it into the nearby trash can and belching. "Nice," Wyatt said, making her laugh. "I don't think Brighton being a weepy little bitch, and trying to grow a conscience an hour before he murdered his family, is going to do much for his public image. He's trying to alleviate himself of guilt for his part in horrific crimes, and it isn't working. The man had literally an entire storage unit full of, you know what, and trying to act like he's the victim here is just a disgusting power play. If he'd really wanted help, he'd have gotten help. He wants Leonard to feel guilty, that's all, end of story," Celia said. "How do you not see this as pure straight evidence, Cal?" Wyatt asked, "Brighton literally spelled it out for you! He thanked Wattson directly for his involvement in their 'projects'. I mean what more proof do you need?" "I just," Calvin said, groaning, running a hand through his hair, "I just wanna make sure, because if we're wrong, we could do a lot of damage. Mr. Wattson is a well respected man, and I don't want to fuck up the life of a man who's not only been a pillar of various communities, but also given me ample opportunity myself. He came back into town and the first thing he did upon seeing me was offer me work and-" "He's doing the same thing to you that he did to Oliver, dude!" Rachel said, shouting, getting up in Calvin's face, "he's literally buying you off and you don't even know it! He's paying for your silence! By having you close, trusting him, you'll be far less likely to turn on him if and when the time comes, because you'll be so fucking loyal! I thought you were smarter than this, Calvin. I thought you had a moral compass. Wasn't that the entire point behind murdering Grudin? As a crusade for nobility? Because he killed your wife and daughter? But now you're willing to turn a blind eye to a man who helped hurt dozens of kids, and why? Because you trust him? Get fucking real." Nobody said anything for a moment, but Calvin couldn't help but notice Rachel had made the same point Wyatt had made recently. That he sounded selfish, like he only cared about his own children. In fact, maybe he was, he admitted, but he didn't want to be. He wanted to protect any and all kids from harm. "Alright, let's all calm down," Wyatt said, "we're not going to solve anything by getting irrational and emotional, okay? Let's just think about this for a moment." "Think about what, dude?!" Rachel shouted as Wyatt inserted himself in between her and Calvin, "think about how he's a hypocrite? Cause I feel like that's been pretty well established, no need to think about that!" "Rachel, cool it!" Wyatt said sternly, "I'm talking more about thinking in regards to Wattson's involvement. Yeah, this is...incriminating as hell, honestly, but it's not an outright admission. He never once says, on tape, what he did and who he did it with. For all anyone could know, he could be talking about the same work that Calvin's doing right now, just helping him with his teaching." "He wasn't even in the city," Rachel said quietly, "remember? How's he gonna help Wattson with his work if he's in another city?" "She's right, he flew in," Calvin said. "So now you're on the side of condemning?" Wyatt asked, "after the fight we had in the store, you're finally open to putting blame on him? I'm not saying we shouldn't, but Calvin might be right, maybe we should be one hundred percent certain. We got lucky with Grudin, okay? We got so very lucky. But that level of luck isn't guaranteed again and again, alright? If we're going to do this, it's going to have to be concrete. We have to know beyond a shadow of a doubt that he's connected, and then, and only then, if he is do we do something about it. But no bombs. I suggested a bomb, but I wasn't in my right head." "When...when did you suggest a bomb?" Celia asked, sounding shocked. "Right after we discovered the unit," Wyatt said, looking across the work table at her, chewing his lip, "yeah, I told Calvin we should blow Wattson up too, but I realize now that's a stupid idea. That was risky to begin with, and the only reason nobody realized how stupid it was to connect Brighton to Grudin is because Grudin's wife publicly said she didn't want to put her daughter through that." "It isn't outside the realm of possibility that Brighton wouldn't know how to build a bomb though," Calvin said, "I had science with him, and he was good. He would do a lot of electrical projects for extra credit. I think the man could've built one if he'd put in the effort, so even if someone did look into that, I think they'd realize he couldn't be full excused." "Okay, fair enough," Wyatt said, "but he's dead now, and that connection to Grudin is tenuous at best. We won't get lucky this time if we do something to Wattson. They'll come looking for another culprit, especially if it's the same kind of bomb. And then, and only then, will they likely realize the connection between the bomb that blew up Grudin and the one that potentially would blow up Wattson." "I cannot believe we're even discussing this," Rachel said, walking away from the group, hand on her forehead, "do you...do you even hear yourself when you speak?! You're talking like we're some kind of vigilante group! News flash, bitch, we're not! I'm a barista, you run a hardware store, and Celia's a lawyer! We're not anything special, we're just everyday people!" A hush fell over the shed, as everyone looked at nothing in particular. Rachel zipped her sweatshirt up and relit her cigarette, taking a long puff before exhaling the smoke into the interior of the shed and shook her head. "I can't believe you," she whispered, "you know? I thought you guys were good people, but here you are just wanting to blow someone else up." "I never said I was in favor of that, for the record," Celia interjected, raising her hand, "just, ya know, for what it's worth." "You're not a saint," Wyatt said, looking at Rachel, "you think you are, but I assure you you're not. You were just as in on the Grudin thing as anyone else, hell, even before any of us. You were here, with Calvin, watching him build the bomb knowing full well what it's intended use was for, so don't act like you're absolved of any wrongdoings, Rachel." Rachel stammered. She wanted to argue, but Wyatt was right. Now she was being the hypocrite. Besides, after her attempted rape, shouldn't she want to stop men from hurting others? Seemed like they all had a personal grudge against some kind of man in their life, except Wyatt anyway, and that was the common connection that held them together like glue. Rachel leaned against the workshop table, took another drag and sniffled. "...sorry..." she whispered. "It's alright," Wyatt said, putting his hand on her shoulder, smiling warmly at her, "it's okay, but if we're gonna keep this thing together, if we're gonna make whatever we're gonna do work, we have to be on the same page, remember? We can't have infighting. That's what leads to failure. Right now it sounds like we're all in agreement. We need more. We need hard evidence. Calvin, you need to bring us something we can point to as definitive proof. This is good, but we need a little more." "I can do that," Calvin said softly, nodding as he chewed on his thumbnail, his eyes glued to his shoes. "Until then, no more burning the units contents," Wyatt said, "I know it's cathartic, and the right thing to do in terms of ridding the world of this smut, but for right now, we might need that as evidence if we are going to ever turn it over for exoneration if and when that day ever comes." "He's right," Celia said, "we're going to need a bargaining chip." "Okay then, we're all in agreement?" Wyatt asked, looking around at everyone, all three of them nodding; he nodded, "good, okay then. I'm going home. I'm supposed to have dinner with my family, and I said I'd be picking something up, so I can't be any later than I already am." Celia slid off the stool and pulled her leather jacket back on before catching up with Wyatt, the two of them exiting the shed together. As they walked across the lawn, Calvin and Rachel stood in the doorway to the shed and watched. "...this is fucked," Celia whispered, waiting until they were properly out of earshot to speak, still keeping her voice low, "this is fucked on so many levels. We're not getting out of this. But if we can minimize our involvement to nothing more than concerned citizens, perhaps we can weasel a deal if nothing else." Celia and Wyatt stopped at their respective cars in front of Calvin's house and looked at one another. "Here's the thing, I don't trust Calvin for a second," Wyatt said, "he'll agree to anything then do whatever he wants, he's rash, okay? We need to keep a keen eye on him, alright? Can you help me with that? Rachel's too attached I think to be impartial, I think, so I'm depending on you to help me with this." "You can count on me," Celia said, patting his chest before heading across the street. The two got in their cars, and pulled away in opposite directions, while Calvin and Rachel stayed standing in the doorway to the shed. Rachel finished her cigarette and tossed it back on the ground, stomping it with her boot before shaking her head, blowing the last of the smoke into the cool night air. "So what's the plan?" Rachel asked, her arms folded as she looked at Calvin. "The plan is to get the proper info on Mr. Wattson," Calvin said, walking inside and popping the VHS out from the TV, sticking it in a plastic bag and then putting that inside a small plastic container, hiding it high up on a shelf behind other things in the shed. "And then?" Rachel asked. "...and then we see what happens," Calvin said, "for better, or worse. Now shut the door, you're letting in cold air." And with that, Rachel re-entered the shed, and slammed the door behind her. Calvin's eyes fluttered open, and he could hear laughter from the kitchen downstairs. It couldn't be. He got up and, tugging his robe on over his pajamas he headed out of the bedroom and to the stairs. He could smell breakfast. Bacon in particular. And freshly brewed coffee. Calvin hurried down the stairs, a grin breaking on his face as he rounded the corner, entering the doorframe to the kitchen and saw his wife standing at the stove, making food. She turned and blew a kiss at him upon seeing him, as Calvin's eyes looked down to the table to see his little daughter coloring at the table and eating cereal. Calvin shut his eyes, starting to cry, until he felt a warm hand on his chest. He opened them and there she was, his wife, standing in front of him, handing him a hot mug of coffee.
"Good morning," she whispered, before leaning up to kiss him. And then he woke up. Calvin groaned and rolled over, grabbing the pillow next to him and dragging it across the bed to his face, burying it into the pillow and crying silently. When he finally emerged and headed downstairs, he found his parents where they always were in the mornings, in the den, watching the morning news. Calvin - now fully dressed - stopped, hands in his pockets, and watched with them for a moment until his father, Barry, noticed him and smiled over his shoulder at him. "Heya bud," Barry said, "we missed you at breakfast." "...wasn't feeling hungry," Calvin said, "I need to run some errands, is there anything you need?" "Some peaches would be nice," his mother said, looking up from her needlework, "I've been meaning to make a cobbler for a few weeks." "Sure mom, no problem," Calvin said, smiling weakly as he grabbed his keys off the wall by the front door and exited. These days, the days when he had the dream, were often the hardest to adjust to. The day never felt real. He inserted the key into the ignition once in the car and pulled out of the driveway, heading out to the store. Meanwhile, back inside Barry nodded at the television and his wife, Amelia, looked up. "That's not the normal weather girl," Barry said. "Well, maybe she's sick today," Amelia said. *** Truth be told, Kelly Schuester wasn't sick. In fact, she was at the ranch with Wyatt, while Mona prepared for her horseback lesson, getting changed into her gear in one of the bathrooms. Kelly and Wyatt, as they waited, strolled around the stable, looking at all the horses. Kelly reached into a bag of feed hanging by one of the stalls and came away with a handful of grain, before opening her palm under a horses nose, watching as it chomped away and she laughed. "I don't know why you invited me," Kelly said, "but I appreciate it! It's been ages since I was around horses." "Guess when someone stops you from killing yourself, you sort of wanna keep them around," Wyatt replied, shrugging. "Yeah, what was that all about?" Kelly asked, wiping her hands on her pants, as she walked back to Wyatt and, together, they continued down the stables. "I don't know," Wyatt said weakly, "things have just been difficult and weird lately. Feeling like I'm disappointing my wife, feeling like I'm disappointing my friends. Hate my job. Everything just feels like it's suffocating me, so I figured I'd do the best thing for all involved and remove myself from the equation entirely." "That wouldn't be the best thing," Kelly said, "I watched you and Mona interact. Your daughter adores you, and besides, if you died, who would I have to hang out with when Rachel isn't around? Really, you're just taking away my hobby. That's rude." Wyatt laughed as they stopped and Kelly started feeding yet another horse. "Anyway," Kelly continued, "I don't blame you for feeling that way. Lord knows I have felt that way too. I think most people probably have, they're just too scared to admit it because they worry it makes them look weak. Society has demonized suicide to such a degree that even the mere thought of wanting to do it is now enough to shame spiral someone into actually doing it, ironically enough. But that's what I think I've learned from it, ultimately. You're not alone in life, sure, because others feel the way you do. But you're also not alone in death, because others would miss you. Nobody can ever really be alone. There'll always be someone to whom you were their entire world, like Mona." Wyatt felt himself getting choked up, as he nodded, taking her words to heart. Just as they exited the stables, they saw Mona atop her pony, trotting around inside the pen, her instructor right beside her, guiding her carefully, keeping a watchful eye. Upon seeing her father, Mona waved. "Daddy! Look!" And Wyatt smiled. Kelly was right. If nothing else, he had to stick it out for his daughter. She was the reason he wanted to change his life to begin with anyway. He wasn't going to take away her biggest supporter now. He would do what his own father never did, and he would be there. *** Calvin turned a peach over in his hand, grimacing. These looked awful. He couldn't bring these back to his mother. He sighed and went back to digging through the peach barrel, trying to find just one, even, that wasn't about to be rotten. He heard a cart stop beside him and turned to look, surprised to see Celia there of all people, leaning on her cart, in the most "mom" outfit he'd ever seen her in. Some sweatpants and a v-neck t-shirt, her hair up in a bun. She smiled at him, as she watched him look for peaches. "In the mood for some fruit?" she asked. "My mom wants to make cobbler," Calvin said, "what are you doing here?" "What does anyone do at a grocery store?" Celia asked, chuckling, making Calvin laugh. "Fair enough, stupid question," he replied. "One of my few days off, so I'm getting some errands done. Son's at home with a babysitter while I do this, but once I'm done I figure I'll take him to the park, go get some lunch, mother/bonding sort of stuff. You feeling okay? You weren't exactly in the best headspace last time we spoke." Calvin shrugged as he picked up yet another over ripened peach, "eh, who can say? At this point, just waking up is good enough for me. I manage each day as it comes. That's really all I can. That's what the grief counselor said." "You in therapy?" Celia asked, sounding surprised, but Calvin shook his head as he finally found a few peaches he liked and began tearing off a bag to put them in. "Naw, this was a grief counselor I saw back after the accident," he said, "but she did give me a few good pointers I still use, including that one. Manage each day as it comes. That being said, it's always worse when I have the dream." Calvin turned and began heading to another section of store, Celia pushing her cart alongside him to keep up. "What dream?" she asked. "Every once in a while," Calvin said, grabbing a box of blueberries from a shelf and dropping them into his basket as he continued, "I'll have this dream, or a variation of the dream, where I wake up and my family is still here. The one I usually have, like this morning, is when I come downstairs and my wife hands me a cup of coffee, and my daughter is at the table eating breakfast and...it feels so real, but I never get to do more than take the coffee. I never get to kiss my wife. I never get to eat breakfast with my daughter. It's hell." "I'm so sorry Cal, that sounds so rough," Celia said quietly, "...but, isn't it at least nice to see them, even if only momentarily?" "No, it's awful. Because then I wake up to reality, and the reality is they're dead. It's not a dream, Celia, it's a nightmare," Calvin whispered, feeling tears well up in his eyes, but he wouldn't cry, he'd never cry about it in public. Celia put her hand on his arm and he glanced at her. "I have a child, Cal, I can't imagine losing him," she said, "I understand." Calvin nodded slowly, before hugging her, taking her by surprise, but she just chuckled and hugged him back. It was true that, for all intents and purposes, their children were the thing that connected them all more than anything else, even their shared crimes. That was the one thing nobody could take from them. That connection. And it would be that connection that would ultimately keep them together as allies. *** "She's good," Kelly said, sitting on top of the fence, watching Mona ride, as she sipped from one of the juice boxes Wyatt had brought for Mona to have as a snack; Kelly tossed her hair and added, "I wonder if it's just a thing every little girl goes through, the whole 'horse phase'. Lord knows I was obsessed. I used to take riding lessons and I had a whole cowgirl getup and everything." "Loser," Wyatt muttered, making her laugh as she hit his arm playfully, causing him to grin. He really enjoyed ribbing Kelly, because he knew she'd never take it seriously. If anything, she had the most self esteem and certainty of anyone else he knew. "I think it's this feeling of power. Women are often represented or thought of as being powerless, so to have commanding power over such a strong animal, it makes you feel like, 'oh, maybe I DO have control!' and make you feel better about your place in such a male centric society." "That makes sense," Wyatt said, opening a candy bar he'd pulled from his pocket and biting into it, chewing as he spoke, "and that's what I'm trying to do. I want Mona to be strong, independent, fierceful. I don't want anyone or anything to ever stop her or make her think it could. I need her to be capable of taking on anything. She deserves to feel that sort of strength." "You're a good dad, man," Kelly said, squashing the now empty juice box in her fist, "like, my parents were alright, but you're really going the extra mile, and that's the kind of thing she'll remember when she grows up." Wyatt smiled, appreciating Kelly's kind opinion, but thinking about Calvin as he did. Calvin wouldn't get to see his daughter grow up, and he would. That didn't seem fair. He suddenly felt like he was flaunting his life in Calvin's face, and he felt bad about it. He should do something to make up for it, he thought. Get him a gift or something. "I'd like to have kids," Kelly said, "but not anytime soon. I kinda love my job and want to focus on that first." "Yeah, you big into weather?" Wyatt asked, grinning. "Well, I am going to Cloudcon in like less than a week, so," Kelly said, "and I love doing that sort of stuff. Seeing all the new weather tech always gets me excited. Call me a nerd, but-" "You're a nerd," Wyatt said, interrupting her. "-I still like," Kelly said, shrugging, chuckling, "besides, I like having something you can predict. Life is often so unpredictable that it's nice that there's at least some aspect of it, even if it's just the weather, that one can predict with some sort of semi-accuracy, ya know? I know it's a lot of guesswork a lot of the time, but it's still kind of comforting. I might not know what'll happen to me tomorrow, but at least I can sort of know what the weather will be like when it happens." "I'd never really thought about it like that," Wyatt said, hopping up on the fence to sit beside Kelly, "I guess you're right. That is sort of comforting." Together they sat there, watching Mona start to canter around the arena, Wyatt smiling, so proud of his daughter. "...they really named this thing Cloudcon?" he asked, and Kelly laughed, nodding; Wyatt shook his head, exhaling, adding, "jesus, they really couldn't come up with anything less dorky could they?" "Well I'm not really sure what else they could come up with, to be honest," Kelly said, "but yeah, it's kinda lame. They could've at least called it like Weather Works or something." "That's SO much better it's not even funny," Wyatt said, the both of them laughing. *** Calvin got back home that afternoon and helped his mother put away the groceries, of course presenting her with her peaches, which she was thrilled and appreciative for. For dinner, he even helped her cook, and she made that cobbler for dessert. Sitting there with his parents at the table, listening to them talk about current events or even just memories of old, Calvin did have to recognize he was thankful he still had them. He'd lost his wife, he'd lost his daughter - and in a sense, he'd lost himself - but thank god he still had his parents. Not everyone was that lucky. Rachel, he knew, didn't really have contact with her family, and he knew Wyatt hated his father, so perhaps he should count his blessings where they came. After dinner, Calvin did the dishes for his folks, then headed out to the shed for a bit, where he did some work for Leonard, knowing he'd have to get this stuff to him in a day or so. After that, he headed back inside, showered, and then, after getting himself a bowl of ice cream, he headed upstairs to his bedroom where he watched some late night TV and old sitcom reruns. After a little while, Calvin fell asleep. When he woke up, he heard the sound of laughter again from downstairs. He pulled on his robe and headed down the stairs, to once again find his wife making breakfast, his daughter sitting at the table. He shut his eyes again, and then he felt his wifes hand on his chest as she pushed his mug of coffee into his hands. He opened his eyes and she smiled, leaning up to kiss him. And this time he got to feel it. And then he got to have breakfast with his daughter. And for the first time in a long time, Calvin had a dream. Not a nightmare. Scarlett grabbed her paintbrush and jammed it through the easel, tearing it into pieces as she screamed at the top of her lungs. After a few minutes of this, she stepped back and admired her destruction, before tossing her hair from her face and glancing over at Rachel, who was standing nearby in the living room, her eyebrows raised.
"You okay there, champ?" Rachel asked, and Scarlett smirked, plopping the paintbrush in her tin and putting her hands on her hips. "I feel better now, yeah," she said, "...it's been a rough week." "You're tellin' me," Rachel said, wiping her own brush down before dipping it back into her glass of water and cleaning it before setting it down and pulling a pack of cigarettes out from her smock pocket, sliding one out before noticing Scarlett watching her, and then decided to pull a second and hand it to her. After they'd slipped them between their lips, Rachel put the pack back into her pocket before pulling out her lighter and lighting them, both women standing there smoking now. "You're so lucky you're gay," Scarlett said, making Rachel laugh. "It is kind of a blessing, yes," she replied. "Seriously, men are...men," Scarlett said, plopping herself down onto the couch, Rachel joining her shortly. "Well, we're always looking for new recruits," Rachel said, taking a long drag and making Scarlett laugh. "I appreciate the offer, but I don't think I could sleep with a woman," Scarlett said, "but I am grateful for your friendship regardless. I don't know that I'd be as sane as I am right now if I didn't have our weekly sessions to look forward to. Plus, I think I'm actually getting pretty good at painting!" Rachel and Scarlett glanced slowly over at Scarlett's destroyed canvas, and Scarlett shrugged. "Anger issues notwithstanding," she added. *** Calvin was leaning against his car, hanging out at the river he'd been disposing Brighton's materials into lately, reading a magazine and chewing gum when he heard another car slowly pull up. He looked up and noticed it was Wyatt's car. Calvin tossed the magazine back into the car and then walked around to the trunk of his car as Wyatt parked and, much to Calvin's surprise, both Wyatt and Celia climbed out. "You brought help?" Calvin asked as Wyatt tossed Celia his keys so she could open his trunk and pull out some of the units contents as Calvin was doing. "Well, I figured it'd go faster if we had someone else," Wyatt said. "You look like shit," Calvin said, eyeing Wyatt up and down as he schlepped box after box onto the grass beside them. Wyatt chuckled, leaning against Calvin's taillights, hands in his coat pockets. "It's been a rough few days," Wyatt mumbled, "I also brought my shredder from my office. I figured the less we had to rely on a single one, the faster this could go." "Smart thinking," Calvin said, finally getting the last box out and then shutting his trunk before standing now, facing Wyatt, their eyes meeting; Calvin sighed and then added, "I sort of feel like we're doing him a favor, getting rid of this stuff. If we were smarter, more organized, we could give it to the cops and ruin his image, but...then they'd ask how we obtained it, and I don't wanna go down that road. The less involved we are, the better. Brighton can continue to be a martyr, whatever, so long as we don't go down with him." "Yeah, I can't go to prison for Grudin's death, I have a kid to raise," Wyatt said, before looking at Calvin and adding, "sorry, I didn't mean-" "It's fine," Calvin said, smiling weakly, "Let's get this started." Calvin picked up his shredder and opened one of the boxes, beginning to shred some of the photos inside as Wyatt walked back to his own car and helped Celia pull more of the smaller boxes with some of the tapes inside them out. After a moment she exhaled and wiped the sweat from her brow on her jacket sleeve before looking up at Calvin, then towards Wyatt. "He's right, you do look like shit," she said. All Wyatt could do was laugh. *** "The truth of the matter is, like...when you've been with someone this long, it's hard to imagine your life before or after them," Scarlett said, she and Rachel still lounging on the couch, smoking; she took a puff and continued, "like, Wyatt and I have been together for so long that it's hard for me to not only remember my life before meeting him, but also wonder what my life would be without him. I don't wanna sound co-dependent, I'm not, but it definitely is true that your partner becomes your life." "I wouldn't know, I've never had a long term relationship before Sun," Rachel said, exhaling a smoke ring into the air and chuckling, as did Scarlett, impressed. "Well, honestly, you might be lucky in that sense. We met in high school. We were kids. In one way it's comforting, you know, to know someone that long? But on the other hand, I wonder if it hasn't somehow stunted us in some way because by having known one another that long, it kind of makes it feel like we're still that age. I don't know, it's all so complicated." Rachel pushed her cigarette into the ashtray on the table next to the couch and sighing. "I can't imagine that, honestly," Rachel said, "I would like to. I know it sets the bar super low, but like...your life is my dream. Just have a house, some kids, be a wife. So fucking traditional, but there's comfort in that familiarity, you know? But then I start to wonder what if that breaks down and then I'm trapped? It's scary." "That's the risk you take for love," Scarlett said, shrugging, finishing her own cigarette and handing the remains to Rachel for her to also dispose of; she let the smoke escape from her lips and then said, "just because I can't see a future without Wyatt doesn't mean I want to, you know? I love him. I love him so much it's like physically a threat to my mental health. But I think so long as you work on maintaining the relationship, then it's all gonna be fine." A moment of silence passed over the room, and then Scarlett sighed. "The problem is when they stop working on it," she said quietly, causing Rachel to nod. *** Wyatt and Calvin were seated on the fold up chairs Calvin had brought from his folks place - though he hadn't brought a third as he hadn't expected Celia to attend - while they shredded things. Celia sat on Calvin's trunk, handing them papers and pulling the film out from the VHS's for them to shred. "I feel like I should've brought my fishing rod," Wyatt said, making them laugh. "Fuck, I don't think I've fished in years," Calvin said, "my dad used to take me." "My dad never did that sort of thing with me," Wyatt said, "come to think of it, he rarely did anything with me that could fall under the 'father/son bonding' umbrella." "Well, my dad used to take me paintballing," Celia said, causing the guys to stop what they were doing and look at her; she smirked and nodded, continuing, "yep, you heard me. You're lookin' at a paintball champion right now. I know I don't look it, but I could whip both your asses with one hand tied behind my back." "I don't think you can shoot a rifle with one hand tied behind your back," Wyatt said, "I think it's actually physically impossible." "Semantics," Celia said, "you'll be singin' a different tune when I'm through with you." "Yeah probably cause you'll shoot him in the nuts," Calvin said, causing them to laugh. Celia hadn't thought about her father much lately, but maybe she should give him a call. Lately she'd been so caught up in work, and with this situation regarding Brighton's storage unit, that she felt like her personal life was falling by the wayside. Wyatt looked at Calvin and licked his lips. "You got any gum?" he asked, and Calvin reached into his shirt pocket, pulling out a pack and tossing it to Wyatt, who pulled a strip and slid it into his mouth before tossing the pack back to Calvin, thanking him, adding, "you know...this is kind of nice. I mean, not exactly because of what it is we're disposing of, but it's nice to be outside. I feel like I spend all my time indoors, either at home or at my kids school or at the office. Often I feel like I forget what the sky looks like." "That's poetic," Celia said, "I try and take my son to the park regularly, partially for him, but also partially for my own sanity. It's good to go outside. Good to a part of the world again, even if only momentarily. Even if all I do is sit on a bench and read a book while he exhausts himself, it's still better than sitting in some stuffy room somewhere, it's true. So yeah, fucked up as this situation may be, at least we're getting some fresh air. There's a silver lining to everything." "That isn't true," Calvin said quietly, causing them both to look at him as he said, "sometimes there's no silver lining. Sometimes life just takes something from you, something that mean the world to you, something that is your world, and there's no upside. No positive. It's just unnecessary cruelty for the sake of unnecessary cruelty. That's the uncomfortable truth many people don't want to face. That sometimes evil just is, and that not everything has a 'reason'. My wife and child didn't die for a greater good. They just died because one man couldn't hold his liquor. That's just the world being the world." Wyatt grimaced and scratched the back of his head, as Calvin put one of his hands over his face and started crying. Celia slid down from the trunk and approached his chair, stroking his hair to comfort him. Wyatt had never really thought about Calvin's loss, and how immense it really was. Could he even function half as well as Calvin appeared to if something happened to Scarlett, or, god forbid, Mona? He doubted it. "Well, at least this way we've stopped two men from hurting children," Wyatt said quietly, and Celia looked at him, making him just shrug. "I guess that's as good a silver lining as any," Calvin managed to say through his tears, before adding, "but it doesn't bring them back." *** When Sun Rai got home that night, Rachel was making dinner. Rachel heard the door close, and heard Sun Rai enter the kitchen before feeling her arms slip around her waist and feeling Sun's face pushing itself into Rachel's hair, breathing her scent in, making Rachel giggle. Rachel set her spatula down and turned around to face Sun, who quickly pressed her lips against Rachel's, surprising her with this level of affection. "What was that for?" Rachel asked after the kiss. "I just had a long day," Sun whispered, burying her head under Rachel's chin, as Rachel held her close; Sun continued, "my dad is getting worse, and I don't know what to do about it. Sometimes the only thing that gets me through the day is knowing I get to come home and hold you." Rachel felt touched, and had to hold back tears. She squeezed Sun to her chest and kissed the top of her head, promising to finish dinner and then hold her longer. For as much as Rachel had admitted she couldn't see herself with someone that long, she also couldn't see her life without Sun Rai in it either. She'd loved her since high school, and had always regretted never making her move, and now, to have her and hold her, it would kill her to have to let go. After dinner, they sat on the couch - Rachel sitting upright as Sun laid across her, her head in Rachel's lap so she could pet Sun's head - and watched awful reality TV. After they went to bed, with Sun falling asleep first, Rachel laid under the blankets and stared up at the ceiling. How could she have these two lives? On one hand she was living the dream, with a beautiful girl she loved to hell and back coupling with domesticity, and on the other hand she was involved in the most horrifying situation, trying to untie what appeared to be an enormous web of child abuse. She didn't know what to think, and all she knew was that if she didn't keep them separate - or find a way out of the other - eventually Sun Rai would learn of her involvement in Grudin's death, and the framing of Brighton, and then her life would implode in a way she wouldn't be able to survive. And that scared her above all else. *** "Welp, I'm takin' off," Calvin said, putting the now empty bins into his trunk along with his shredder, and stuffing the folded chairs into his backseat. As he opened the drivers side door, he stopped and looked at Celia and Wyatt doing the same at Wyatt's car. "You gonna be okay?" Wyatt asked, and Calvin nodded. "Yeah, I'll be fine. Go home, eat dinner with my folks, just try and find some sort of joy in the world," Calvin said, "Wyatt, don't ever let someone take your family from you. It's the most precious thing you can have, and to lose it means losing yourself. Please don't ever let someone do to you what they did to me, intentionally or unintentionally." "I'll keep that in mind," Wyatt said. "Thanks for the help. We can meet here again in a few days," Calvin said, "I have some work with Mr. Wattson, but otherwise I'm usually free. I'll call you when I'm ready. And Celia, thanks for coming and helping." "Not a problem!" Celia said cheerfully, waving as Calvin climbed into his car, started the ignition and drove off back up the little hill and down the road. Once his car was out of sight, Wyatt looked at Celia, who had just finished loading their own materials into his trunk and shut it, her hands running through her bushy hair. She then hopped up onto the trunk and sat there, looking at the early evening sky, as Wyatt joined her to do the same. "...he's damaged," Celia said. "Well look at what he lost, honestly," Wyatt replied, "I mean...truth be told, I'd likely be a basketcase if the same thing had happened to me." "What do we do if he loses it?" Celia asked, and Wyatt looked at her. "What do you mean?" "What if he becomes uncontrollable, does something stupid?" she asked, clarifying, "he blew a man up, Wyatt, we can't ignore that forever. He built a bomb and blew a man up. And not just any man, but a local politician. What do we do when he loses it, does something even worse?" Wyatt shrugged and looked off towards the road as cars passed by. "Guess we'll deal with that when we come to it," he said, "but, truth be told Celia, I don't see it happening." Wyatt would revisit this conversation in his head in just a weeks time, and by then, he'd regret not listening to her. |
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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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