Standing at the podium in the gymnasium, looking out at the faces of all these kids, Natasha couldn't help but feel awful as her eyes, after scanning the crowd, finally landed on her own daughters face, and she saw how fraught with worry and fear it was. It broke her heart to see Violet feeling that way, and Natasha finally knew what she had to do.
"I don't know why I'm here, honestly," Natasha said, "I've been asked to speak because, apparently, I know how to take care of myself, and therefore I must know how to teach others to take care of themselves too, and take care of one another. But...if your own parents couldn't do it, then what makes someone think I can?" The room had all the air sucked out of it, and you could've heard a pin drop. Courtney and Violet looked at one another, and Courtney broke out in an enormous grin. This was going to be a good assembly. *** Natasha awoke the day of her school speech with a feeling of absolute dread in her gut. She exhaled slowly and then wearily climbed out of bed. As her feet touched the floor, she could just sense today was going to be different, but she wasn't entirely sure why. So Natasha took a shower, got dressed and then headed downstairs to make some breakfast. She cooked up some bacon and hashbrowns and eggs and then called back up the stairs to Violet, who came down momentarily afterwards, seeming somewhat deflated and quiet. Violet sat the table as her mother served her breakfast, and she picked at the food, nibbling a bit here and there. Natasha seated herself across from Violet and ate as well, neither of them looking at one another. "please don't do it," Violet finally managed to whisper, still refusing to look up at her mother. Natasha opened her mouth to respond, but instead shook her head and continued eating. She knew there was absolutely nothing she could say short of agreeing to back out that would make Violet happy. All she wanted was a chance to reach kids with her message of taking care one themselves and one another, and this was a good starting point. She wasn't ready to give up on that just yet, even if Violet pleaded with her. After breakfast, Natasha cleaned up her things and did all the dishes before getting into the car to drive Violet to school, but Violet decided to walk instead. This act of indifference really said something to Natasha about just how deeply upset Violet was with her decision, and that stung her heart quite a bit, but she ignored it, put the car in drive and took off for the station. Violet spent a good hour just trying to get to school, and was about 15 minutes late when she finally arrived on campus. She told her homeroom teacher that their car had had trouble, and the teacher didn't give her any flack. Violet seated herself at a table in the back, empty and away from all her peers, and decided to read while the morning announcements ran over the loudspeaker. Once the bell rang, Violet got up and went to her first class, but - and this would be the trend for the day - she didn't pay any attention. She merely coasted through class, and didn't care two bits. Way she saw it, if her own mother didn't care enough about her to not speak at her school, why should she care about herself? *** "I'd be so paranoid if I were you," Jay said, sitting in the stations kitchen with Natasha as he ate his breakfast that he'd brought from a local nearby fast food place. Natasha shook her head and pushed her hair out of her eyes. "I am paranoid, please don't think I'm not," she replied, "But I think it's a worthy thing to do. I'm more annoyed, actually, at how Violet is reacting to it more than I am worried how well I'll get through to the other kids." "Kids are weird, who knows why she's acting that way," Jay said, biting into his sandwich as Sharla came in and poured herself a cup of coffee, then leaned on the counter and sipped it as she watched them. "Don't you usually bring coffee?" Natasha asked, and Sharla nodded. "Yeah, but I didn't have the time this morning," she said, "Which is a shame, cause I really hate office coffee." "Well, good thing for you is that we're hardly an office and that's hardly coffee," Jay said, making Natasha crack up, which she greatly needed and appreciated. Sharla chuckled a bit as she nodded and continued sipping then took a seat at the round table with them. "So what are you paranoid about?" Sharla asked, "I could hear you from the hall." "I'm giving a speech to kids at my daughters high school today," she said, "But I just...she's so mad at me doing it, and I can't understand why. I mean, I guess I sort of get it, cause they're teenagers and they're not very nice, but that's why I'm doing it, to try and make them nicer, you know? That's my whole shtick is to get people to be better people, to themselves and one another." Sharla sighed and leaned back, letting her ponytail down and running her hands through her perfect hair, sifting her fingers through each strand while Jay and Natasha watched, both rather surprised by her inherent beauty, as they rarely saw her outside of her stage persona. "It's hard being a teenager, don't take it too personally," Sharla finally said, "I'm sure it'll all work out." "Gee, thanks for the parental platitude," Natasha said sarcastically, making Sharla smirk and raise her cup. "My pleasure!" she responded. *** Courtney found Violet sitting in the dugout of the baseball field at lunch. She was reading when Courtney found her, and Courtney took her seat by Violet's side, not saying a word for a few minutes until it became clear Violet wasn't going to acknowledge her. Courtney then cleared her throat and touched Violet on the shoulder to get her attention. Violet shut her book and looked at her. "Is everything okay?" Courtney asked, "I didn't do something wrong, did I? I've been looking for you all day. Are you avoiding me?" "No," Violet replied, "I'm not avoiding you, I'm just...not...good at being friends." Courtney sighed and slumped on the bench. She wanted to be a good friend, she wanted to tell her that it was fine to not want to be around her friends sometimes, everyone was entitled to their personal space, but she also wanted Violet to know she was there for her whenever she needed or wanted someone. After a moment of chewing on her lip, Courtney opened her mouth to respond, but Violet interrupted her. "My mom is coming to talk today," Violet said, "She's going to stand in the auditorium and talk to all the kids, and when I asked her not to, she wouldn't stop. She told me it was something she had to do. I asked her a lot and she said she was going to do it no matter what." "That's...unlike her," Courtney said, furrowing her brow, "She's usually fairly agreeable. I can't imagine why she wouldn't-" "Who cares," Violet said sternly, in a voice so cold that Courtney was surprised it'd come from her at all. She'd never heard Violet sound this empty and dark, and her tone upset her a bit, she had to admit. Courtney stood up, sighed and turned to walk away. As she left, she glanced back over her shoulder at her friend and thought about how badly she wanted to help her, but she just wasn't sure how. Still, she was determined to find a way. *** When Natasha pulled into the school parking lot, she could feel the anxiousness in her stomach and was having trouble swallowing. Everything she did was on a sound stage, without an audience (aside from the crew, she guessed), so perhaps her nerves just came from the fact that she wasn't used to speaking in front of large groups whose entire focus was on her. She picked up her water bottle from the cup holder and took a large healthy drink before wiping her mouth on her sleeve and convincing herself she could do this. Natasha climbed out of the car and, after opening the trunk to get her supplies, started preparing for her walk into the school auditorium when she heard someone come up behind her. She thought it might be a teacher who had come to help - or god forbid a fan - but when she turned around, instead, she was faced with Courtney who was staring at her. "Oh," Natasha said, "Hi Courtney. How are you?" "Why are you doing this?" Courtney asked, surprising Natasha with her brashness. "Doing what? Speaking here?" Natasha asked, "Because it's my chance to try and teach your peers to appreciate themselves." "I have news for you, most already appreciate themselves far too much. Their egos are half the problem," Courtney said. "Well, nobody else is doing it, they have parents who work all the time, there's no role models anywhere anymore. I'm just trying to show them that they can be healthier people, for themselves and for one another," Natasha stated, starting to sound annoyed, "I don't know why Violet can't see that." "Maybe she doesn't think they deserve your advice, your help, your generosity because they won't give any to her," Courtney said, shrugging and holding her books to her chest, "Just a thought." And with that, Courtney turned and walked off, leaving a somewhat stunned Natasha standing there, feeling downright ashamed. As she watched her daughters best, and seemingly only, friend walk away, she felt a twinge of respect for her. Nobody besides Natasha herself had ever publicly stood up for Violet, and now here she was, her own mother, needing to be put in her place for forgetting how her daughter had been treated and slightly treating her that way herself. Natasha waited a moment, then took all her things from the trunk and headed inside to the auditorium. Once inside she set her materials by the podium and looked around at all the teachers, all the students, and began to feel a terrible churning feeling in her gut, like the one she'd felt this morning. Standing at the podium in the gymnasium, looking out at the faces of all these kids, Natasha couldn't help but feel awful as her eyes, after scanning the crowd, finally landed on her own daughters face, and she saw how fraught with worry and fear it was. It broke her heart to see Violet feeling that way, and Natasha finally knew what she had to do. "I don't know why I'm here, honestly," Natasha said, "I've been asked to speak because, apparently, I know how to take care of myself, and therefore I must know how to teach others to take care of themselves too, and take care of one another. But...if your own parents couldn't do it, then what makes someone think I can?" The room had all the air sucked out of it, and you could've heard a pin drop. Courtney and Violet looked at one another, and Courtney broke out in an enormous grin. This was going to be a good assembly. "I...I'm supposed to care, right? That's my whole brand, man. Caring. But even the kindest people can be selfish. Even the most caring people can be rude. Nobody is a bastion of perfection and genuine empathy, no matter how hard they might try to be, and the ones who claim they are the most dangerous. So, yeah, I care. I don't think people take care of themselves. I think they often throw themselves under the bus for others. And there's nothing wrong with putting others before yourself, that's a noble idea, certainly. And you should care about others, obviously. But the thing is, you don't. Nobody really does. Because to care about others would mean accepting that there are people who might mean more than you, and that's a blow to our ego, and that's not something we're willing to accept. That's why you bully, isn't it? To make yourself feel better, to make others recognize you're better than them." The students didn't say a word, they were seemingly captivated by her speech, which shocked the staff, none of whom were trying to stop Natasha. "And if you won't care about others, why should I care about you? Your parents obviously don't, or they'd be doing this job, they wouldn't leave it to some public access TV host. They're the ones whose job it is to teach you these things, things they've obviously failed to teach you because, frankly, they probably never learned it themselves. I'm not mad at you for acting out, I'm not judging you for behaving this way. It's inevitable when you come from a family whose forgotten you. I'm mad at society for allowing it to get this way. And more than that, I'm sad. I'm sad for you. I'm sad that you can't feel for others, and I'm sad that you don't think you deserve better. My husband left me earlier this year, because...now that I think about it...I put my daughter before him. He felt neglected, and I understand that now. But I did what my own parents refused to do. Raise their child. Which, in some warped way, means raising myself." Natasha took a long deep breath and looked back at her supplies, which she'd never set up, and then shook her head. "I was supposed to come here today and teach you all how to be nice to yourselves, nice to one another, but what's the point? Look at this useless crap. Charts and graphs and stupid anecdotes don't mean jack all in the face of abject runaway hormones. So many of you harass my daughter because she's a bit slower than you, or because she talks a bit funny, or because she's just not as 'with it' as you all seem to think you are. But there's one thing she has that you don't, and that's kindness. She knows how to love herself, and how to love those around her. You've all shown us that you don't, and it's not your fault. It's the adults around you. They're the ones who failed, because people failed them. It's learnt behavior. Generational inhereted trauma and uncaring. Hands off parenting isn't hands off, it's not parenting at all. I feel like I'm expected to be there for you, and I wanna be there for you, because you should have someone, but...I have my own daughter to focus on, and you've all been nothing but cruel to her, so why should I extend an olive branch of kindness to a garden filled with thorns?" Natasha finally shook her head and looked up again, staring directly at Violet in the stands, and smiled. "My daughter is a better person than any of you will ever be," she said, "She could be that person for you, if you just stopped being so goddamned cruel. They say kids are taught to hate, but they aren't. Humans are innately and inherently evil from the offset. They have to be taught to not hit, taught to share, taught to love. Maybe it's time you all learned too." Natasha turned, grabbed all her supplies and walked out of the auditorium, leaving everyone at a loss for words. After a moment, Violet stood up and, grabbing her bookbag, raced down the steps and after her mom, chasing her out the doors to the parking lot. As she reached the car, she saw her mother shoving her things into the trunk, and once she closed it, she turned to face her daughter. "Mom-" "Thank you," Natasha said, approaching her and putting her hands on her daughters shoulders, "...thank you for being who you are. Thank you for...just...being the best child. Thank you for staying. I'm sorry I didn't listen to you. I always want to listen to you. I got blinded and I'm sorry." "It's okay, mom," Violet said, "Everyone makes mistakes." Natasha chuckled, tears rolling down her cheeks, as she looked at Violets face. "Can I hug you?" she asked, and Violet nodded, feeling Natasha pull her in close for a firm hug. Violet dropped her bookbag and hugged her mother back. Standing there, in the school parking lot, hugging one another, nothing else mattered now. Her show was public access, her relationship with her child was publicly known, and it was fine. She was fine with it all. For the first time since her husband had left, Natasha felt like a whole person, because she allowed the only other person that mattered to be a part of her whole self. Because, in the end, the thing Natasha had learned was most important about taking care of yourself...was learning to take care of others. A surprisingly simple thing, really.
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"Simply Clean?" Natasha asked, holding the bottle in her hand, turning it over to look at the ingredients on the back, an eyebrow arching somewhat in surprise as she added, "mmm, organic. I don't...I don't know how comfortable I feel in hawking organic soap."
"I'm not going to try and tell you some corporate lie like 'it grows the brand' or whatever, Miss Simple," the man in the suit sitting across from her at the table said, "but put aside 'the brand' and think about it like this; think what you could do with the money. You're a good person, don't you want to bring in money to help the station? Donate to charities? Give back to underfunded schools? Hell, what about helping your daughter? You could easily send her to college with what you'd make off this in a single year, I guarantee it, and the time to do it is now, when everyone knows who you are. The heat is on and turned up, now is the time to sell it." "I just...it feels so...dishonest," Natasha said, setting the soap down on the table and wiping her hands on her shirt, "Ironically enough it makes me feel dirty. Lawrence smirked at this and looked away from the table as Nat tried not to laugh herself. "A lot of people don't trust advertising. They believe we want to pervert their message, betray their beliefs, their ideals and ethics and morals, but I'm only bringing you things I think would be right for your name, your brand. Things that are, as you would say, good for you. Organic food or household items, a modest and affordable fashion line, things that are for the person and helping them feel better about themselves." "I just...how the fuck, pardon my language, does organic dish soap help someone feel better about themselves?" Natasha asked. "Because by using it, they know they're doing good for the environment," the man said, leaning back in his seat and straightening his tie, "It makes them feel good about themselves to know they're taking care of the world, and by that extension of others." "I...guuueeesss," Natasha said, "Let me think about it, can I just think about it?" "Absolutely!" the man said, standing up and, leaning across the table, shook Natasha and Lawrence's hands before leaving the room. Natasha turned in her rolling chair to face Lawrence, who simply shook his head and chuckled as she exhaled and shrugged. "You know, you'd think people would want to make millions of dollars, but...I don't know, it just doesn't appeal to me," Natasha said, "I mean, the money is appealing, of course, but I don't like the idea of my face on lots of stuff for people to buy. I'm selling peace of mind, not organic Cranberry Juice." "Natty," Lawrence said, leaning forward, "You know I trust you, you know that I believe only you know what's best for you and what you do, and you know I won't push something if you really feel that uncomfortable about it, but I think it's time to tell you that you're...really...the only one capable of bringing funds into this station at first. I mean, sure, we've got Sharla but her workout DVDs and other merch only does so well, honestly, but I'd never say that to her face of course. But you...you've created a persona that people really relate to, and that's what sells things. Something people can relate to." "...is that all I am now? A persona?" Natasha asked, looking at her nails, as Lawrence thought. "Of...I mean....no, of course not, but...god, you know what I mean, right? People see you, they relate to you, because you're trying to help them and-" "I'm trying to genuinely help them, yes, and then I'm going to betray that trust to hawk some fucking natural laundry soap?" Natasha asked, "Don't you see how pseudo scummy that is? Don't you see how snake like that is? I'm using that trust, that trust they've put in me because I actually care, to sell them shit they don't really need. I mean, I'm all for helping the planet, I'm all for people using organic products to promote the longevity of the planet and themselves, but Larry, I'm not...I'm not going to sell them things I don't believe in when the only thing I do believe in is helping them help themselves." Lawrence leaned back and sighed, folding his arms. "Alright," he said, "It's up to you, like I said, I just wanted you to see it from the stations point of view." "And, quite frankly, that's somewhat unscrupulous, you're putting its future in my hands, you're making me feel responsible for its poor profits. That's way too much pressure, especially for someone who has nothing to do with the business itself and is just a person who has a show on the network. I thought you were better than that." With that, Natasha stood up and exited, leaving Lawrence to sit there and think about what she'd said. Out in the hall, she leaned against the wall and exhaled, feeling a bit bad about having been so harsh towards her friend who'd so often defended her, but she also felt somewhat disgusted by his rather shallow behavior. Standing there, Sharla stopped walking by, sipping on a iced coffee and looked at her. Natasha looked up at Sharla and Sharla smiled and waved at her. "Hi," Natasha said, chuckling. "Everything alright, champ?" Sharla asked, and Natasha shrugged, as they started walking down the hall together. "I don't know, I feel like everyone is starting to try and use me," Natasha said, "I'm starting to regret having done what I did because, even if I made a point and got through to people, look at what it's done. Now I'm being molded into nothing more than another commodity used to further a market that frankly is already rather inundated with shallow minded people selling things nobody needs. Before all this, I was just another employee. I could do my show and nobody would bat an eye, but now everyones eyes are on me all the time, just waiting to try and milk whatever it is I do for their own profit margin." "That's deep," Sharla said, "I know what you mean, I feel sort of bad for selling my shakes and exercise equipment and stuff because I don't want to be a sales person, I want to be an exercise coach. I want people to do this for themselves, not buy it and do it because I told them to. But sadly a mass uninformed public has to be told what to do and how to do it, and often what to do it with, and soon, before you know it, your good intentions have become nothing more than yet another marketing tool." "Exactly," Natasha said, "I just..." They stopped and Sharla sipped from her coffee, tilting her blonde ponytailed head to the side, waiting for her to finish. "I just want things to go back to normal, this is all too stressful for me," Natasha said. *** Violet and Courtney were sitting in Violets bedroom on the bed as Courtney flipped through a fashion magazine and Violet read a book. Neither had said a word in a while, but that was fine. They were happy to have the sort of friendship where they didn't have to speak often in order for anything to matter. They merely enjoyed being in one anothers company. Finally, after a few minutes, Courtney exhaled loudly and flipped yet another page. "You know," Courtney started, "it's really frustrating trying to find something to wear when you know that a lot of stuff isn't going to fit you solely because your body shape is just moderately different enough to make a difference." "You look fine," Violet said, not looking up from her book. "I mean, yeah, thankfully I was able to start HRT before anything really happened, and that staved off a lot of problems, but there's a lot of other minor things that couldn't be avoided, like, for example, the size of my feet. They aren't huge by any means, but still bigger than most girls and that's annoying." Violet lowered her book and looked at Courtneys feet, swinging in the air on the bed as she had her legs up; Violet shrugged and said, "They look fine too. Shoes aren't something to be that self conscious about, I think." "Well, but it's annoying when I find a pair of shoes I really like but can't wear simply because my feet are just a smidge too wide, you know? I don't know, it's annoying to me at least, especially with as into fashion as I am," Courtney said. "Stop finding things to not like about yourself," Violet said, "Enough people will do that for you." "Hah!" Courtney laughed, "Sometimes you make a really good point!" The phone rang downstairs and both girls got up and headed down the stairs to listen to the message. Courtney had once asked Violet why she didn't answer the phone, and Violet had told her it gave her anxiety to talk to people she didn't know and couldn't see, which Courtney felt was a valid enough reason, so they stood in front of the answering machine and waited for the caller to leave a message. Finally, after what felt like 7 rings, the machine finally clicked on, and a voice came over the speakers. "Hello Miss Simple, this is the principal of your daughters school," the voice said, "I'm calling to ask if you'd be interested in giving a speech for Career Day in the auditorium. We've been aware of your recent publicity, and with your show being the beacon of positivity that it is, we think you'd be a perfect candidate for doing such a thing. Please call me back and let me know as soon as possible so we can make arrangements and fit you into the schedule, thank you." The call ended and Violet and Courtney glanced at one another somewhat uncomfortably. "Well," Courtney said, "I guess it's better than him calling cause you're in trouble. Maybe she'll decline." "Only if I beg," Violet said, turning and heading into the kitchen, leaving Courtney to feel like she'd struck a nerve of some kind. *** Sitting in her car, listening to quiet jazz on her radio while she waited at a red light, Natasha couldn't help but feel like now she'd been guilt tripped into doing something she didn't want to do. She didn't want to promote products, she didn't want to sell things. She just wanted to help people. But, if the station was in need of money that badly...just then another car pulled up beside her and honked its horn. This startled her out of her thoughts and brought her back to reality. Nat looked towards the car and rolled her window down. "You're Miss Simple, yeah?" a woman in the passenger seat asked. "Uh...yes?" Nat replied, unsure of where this was headed. "I love your show! You're putting out such a positive message, and it's really great to see when the rest of television is littered with evil and hatred, so thank you!" the woman added, before rolling her window back up and driving off as the light changed. Natasha sighed and started driving as well. She couldn't deny her presence was something that had become sought after recently, but she was beginning to feel like it was being sought after for all the wrong reasons. She turned into a nearby parking lot for a small drug store and stopped the car, then sat there in her seat and breathed slowly, heavily, trying to take all the weight she felt off her shoulders even just momentarily. She was having a panic attack. She hadn't had one in ages, it felt like, but now she was having them again, and she knew it'd only become fairly regular the more people bothered her for things like brand deals. And the longer she held off on actually giving the go ahead with these deals, the more she felt Lawrence, and presumably the rest of the network emboldened by him, might be breathing down her back or giving her the evil eye, especially if she, in the end, decided against it. Natasha didn't know what to do, what to think, all she knew was she needed to relax. She needed to stop her brain from spinnin a mile a minute, and her chest to untighten. Just then her cell phone rang, and she answered. "Hello?" she answered as calmly as she could, "Yes, this is she. I...I can't talk about this right now. Call my boss, he'll set up a meeting, thank you. Goodbye." Natasha hung up and stared ahead at the car parked in front of her in the parking lot. She didn't even know what she was staring at exactly, or why, or even how long she stared, she just knew she had to draw the focus away from her anxiety and instead to something else, something in her immediate visual vicinity, and this car was what she had chosen. After a few minutes she could feel her pulse slow again, and her breathing returned somewhat to normal, and she felt hungry. She wanted to eat, so she pulled out and headed to a nearby fast food drive through. She felt like anytime anyone wanted to talk to her anymore was just to get her to sign off on some deal, some sort of marketing gimmick, and nobody wanted to actually care to listen to her real message. She wasn't anti capitalist or anything, she wasn't against buying things, she just wanted to prove that what she was offering could only come from the person themselves and not a thing they were sold. Inner turmoil is rarely solved completely by impulse purchases. She got her bag of burgers, pulled into the lot of the fast food place, parked and wolfed them down one by one. God, if only she'd had known this was what her life would turn into, she may never have decided to break character and speak openly. She needed to get home. Her daughter never wanted anything from her that had to do with work. *** "The school called," Violet said as they stood in the kitchen. Courtney had gone home moments earlier, while Natasha made some pasta for the two of them to eat and Violet stood next to the fridge, drinking out of a juice box. "The school?" Natasha asked, somewhat distracted by her cooking. "Yeah, they want you to come talk, in the gym, about, um, career day?" Violet finished, taking a few sips from her juice box before sitting down at the table, "I don't know that I want you to do it though." "Well, sweetheart, that's the sort of thing I could actually get behind," Natasha said, "That's...that's actually pushing a real message to impressionable kids who might need to hear some positivity. You know what I've done the last few weeks? Take meetings with people who want to slap my name and face on products and sell them. That's not listening to what I'm saying. But this? This is." "Yeah but they already make fun of me enough," Violet countered, "If you came and did this, they'd make fun of me even more. That isn't fair." "Sometimes, Violet, I'm going to do things that you aren't going to be happy with. I go out of my way to support you and listen to your concerns, because I love you and I care about how you feel, but this is one of those times when I think it's actually in my best interests to go ahead and go speak to the kids at your school. If I could just get through to one kid, it would be worth it." Violet sat and stared at her mother. She'd never once heard her talk like this. Usually, if Violet said something would make her uncomfortable or unhappy, Natasha abided by that and decided not to partake, but this...this was different. Something had changed. Violet stood up and left her juice box on the table before heading to the doorway of the kitchen. "Hey! Aren't you hungry?" Nat called out after her. "No." Violet stomped up the stairs, leaving Natasha to eat her pasta and watch TV all by herself. Up in her room, Violet sat on her bed and cried, thinking about how things had been just in the last year. She'd had a family, or at least the concept of one. Maybe her father hadn't been as great as she'd always thought he was, but now she was beginning to miss having a dad around, especially now that her mother was seemingly turning her back on her as well. Violet laid down and, despite her usual disgust towards the idea, picked up her phone to make a call. Courtney answered on the other end. "Are you okay?" Courtney asked, "You sound...sad." But, after a few moments, Violet decided, instead of responding, to hang up and cry herself to sleep. Natasha came in a bit later to check on her, and then headed to her bedroom herself. She'd always put Violet first, but this was the one time she wanted to do something for herself. Why couldn't Violet understand or accept that? In the midst of all these ridiculous brand deals the network was trying to make with her, this was the one thing that felt...real. That felt like it mattered. She could maybe get some kids, not adults, to listen to her, and if, as she said, even one single kid took a solid lesson away from the things she had to say, it would be worth it. She didn't like upsetting Violet. It was her least favorite thing in the world. But after a lifetime of doing things for others, Natasha felt like she deserved to do at least one thing for herself, especially right now in this time of personal crisis. She laid down on her bed and looked up at her ceiling. Violet would understand eventually. She'd come around. Or at least that's the lie Natasha told herself that night to get to sleep. Natasha hadn't been through some of these clothes in what felt like years. Surprisingly enough, and much to her enjoyment, all of them still fit her. She was happy to discover that she hadn't lost her figure, but a lot of that had to do with the fitness routine she did often to stay in shape for her show and the fact that she simply didn't gain weight much. Her metabolism had always been rather high. She ate like someone about to face execution, stuffing her face, but never managed to put on any weight. But when she pulled some of these stacks of clothes out of her closet and laid them on her bed, she was astonished to see just how many articles of clothing she hadn't worn in ages. Some of them she'd had since before Violet had even been born.
It was sort of like seeing old friends again, and it brought a warmth to her heart, put a smile on her face. She started thumbing through old articles of clothing, tossing a few into a nearby open plastic bin she'd set out to take to the station for their annual charity drive. She started yet another pile for things she wanted to keep. Natasha was going to make good on her promise to herself this year to finally start fresh, and try and get rid of as much stuff as possible, and after a half hour or so, the bin was nearly full. She pulled yet another stack out and started a second bin after finishing the first, but at the very end of the second stack...was the sweatshirt. It wasn't a very unique looking sweatshirt by any means. Just a normal zipper hoodie that was medium purple and had two front pockets. But Natasha stood there, staring at this thing, and moments she'd long forgotten about, moments she'd tried to forget about, came rushing back at her full force. This sweatshirt wasn't just an article of clothing. This sweatshirt had some history. *** They'd first found it in a thrift store. "What do you think of this?" Stephen asked, holding up the sweatshirt on a plastic hanger. Natasha put down whatever she was looking at, tossing it aside instantly to approach this purple hoodie, and touched the fabric between her fingers. "Oooh, it's soft," she said, "That would feel good. I wonder how warm it is on the inside." Nat took it from the hanger and pulled it on over herself, smoothing it out after doing so, only stopping to slip her hands into the front pockets and then glancing back up at Stephen, who stood there admiring her new look. "Well?" he asked. "It's cozy, that's for sure. What do you think?" she asked, before adding, rather sarcastically, "I really value your opinion on my wardrobe." "If that were true you would never have bought those shoes last week," Stephen replied, the both of them laughing now as others in the store began to look their way. She took it off and put it back on the hanger, saying it was perfect. Stephen kissed the side of her head as he tossed it into their basket of other clothes from the store, and eventually they checked out. It was cold outside, so she immediately put it on once they were back outdoors, and walking back to their car. They'd only been married for a few weeks and were still trying to save money where they could, which is why they had been shopping at a thrift store; that and the fact that Natasha simply loved thrift shopping. Stephen preferred more high end clothing stores. Turns out, Stephen would prefer a lot of things that were the opposite of Natasha. *** "Hey," Jay said, knocking on her bedroom door and looking at her, "Any of these ready to go?" "Huh...uh, yeah. Yeah, sorry, that first one is totally ready to go, you can load that up," Natasha said, pointing at the first tub she'd filled. Jay nodded and then walked to it, knelt down and attempted to lift it, struggling somewhat. Natasha chuckled and got up to help him. Together they carried the box down the stairs and outside to his car where they loaded it into the backseat. "Phew, that stereotype about women having too many clothes is not a stereotype at all," Jay said, wiping his brow on his sleeve. "You don't own many clothes?" Natasha asked him. "Please," Jay said, taking a swig from a water bottle, "I'm a guy. All men own like approximately three halves of an outfit." Natasha laughed as Jay got into his car and started it up. She leaned in through the passenger window and looked at him. "So, you're gonna come back?" she asked. "Yeah, I'm gonna drop this by the station, toss a label on it with your name, then come on back for anything else. Why? You wanna come with me?" "...I suppose it couldn't hurt to get out of the house for a bit. I've already got a second box near completion anyway," Nat said, climbing into the passenger seat and buckling herself in as Jay pulled away from the curb and started driving. For a bit the two sat there in silence as they headed down the street, towards the station downtown. Natasha chewed her lip and thought about the sweatshirt. "Do you ever keep stuff you got during a relationship after the relationship ends?" Natasha asked and Jay thought for a moment, adjusting the brim of his hat before responding. "I...yeah, actually, I have. There's this cool beer glass this girl I dated got me for my birthday when we were on vacation somewhere together, and I still have that. But it's usually very small stuff that isn't really tied to the relationship proper, not something huge," Jay replied. "What about an article of clothing?" Nat asked, and Jay shrugged, thinking. "I...don't think so, no...I know I have a ring that my first serious girlfriend bought me back in college, but that's about it, and that's more jewelry than clothing, so," Jay said, taking a sharp turn and making Nat hold herself in place as the car lunged around a corner. She thought back to the purple sweatshirt, and why she still had it, after all this time. Especially now that Stephen was gone, why was she keeping it? Well, there had to be a reason, after all. The sweatshirt had to have more memories attached to it than just her life with him. *** Natasha had been completely unprepared to go to the hospital when Violet had been born, mostly because Violet was about two weeks too early, and nobody had anticipated this. When getting rushed down the stairs by Stephen, she noticed how cold it was outside, and he quickly grabbed the first jacket he saw lying draped over the couch. He pulled the purple sweatshirt on her and then helped Natasha to the car where he sped to the hospital. Violet's premature birth was one of the reasons, they believed, she was somewhat mentally handicapped, but sitting there in her hospital bed, holding her newly born daughter in her arms, Natasha didn't care one way or the other. She simply knew she loved her no matter what, and that that would never change. On the car ride home a few days later, she wrapped Violet inside the purple sweatshirt, and held her the entire way home. Sitting there in the car, looking at her sleeping daughter in her arms, Natasha smiled and looked up at the windshield momentarily. "...I think I want to name her Violet," Natasha said. "Violet? I thought you liked Hailey," Stephen said, and Natasha shook her head. "I did, I mean, I do, but I...I also like Violet. I think it's more fitting," she said, and Stephen smiled and shrugged. "Hey, whatever you want. You want to name her Violet, we'll name her Violet," Stephen said. Natasha looked back down at Violet nestled in the sweatshirt, and she smiled again. Violet would be bringing her years of smiles down the road, while Stephen would wind up bringing her pain and anger. He may have been the one to find the sweatshirt, but she was the one to wear it. *** Jay parked in the station parking lot and he and Natasha got out of the car and began unloading the boxes he had with him. Together, one by one, they carried them inside the station and set them down in the spare empty office with all the other boxes that had been brought in thus far. Natasha stood there and looked at all the boxes of clothing and books and whatever else was being donated and she smiled. "Look at all this charity," she said, "This is wonderful. I can't believe I'm shocked at peoples kindness, but I suppose in todays modern world kindness has become shocking. When hatred becomes so normalized, kindness becomes the surprise." "Well put," Jay said, cracking open a soda and sipping it before handing it to Natasha who took a few sips herself. "It makes me glad to see people giving things they don't need anymore to people who might need them. We're not dragons, for fucks sake, we shouldn't hoard things, you know? If you don't wear a piece of clothing anymore or you don't have a particular attachment to a book or a movie, then give it to someone who might, you know? I mean, I'm all for collecting things. I understand why people hold onto personal libraries and film collections and, hell, even pieces of clothing. But...I think Stephen leaving honestly really forced me to start looking at moving forward instead of being continually stuck in the past." "I think that's a perfectly healthy way to live," Jay said, sitting on top of one of the clothing tubs, "honestly, I'm...admirable of your newfound viewpoints, and wish I could as easily incorporate them into my own life as you seem to have in yours. I have a lot of trouble moving on. It's nice to have some sort of guide for that." Natasha smiled and sat beside Jay, holding his hand. "...we should hang out more," she said, "I could really use a friend." Jay smiled and nodded, "I couldn't agree more." After they finished their soda, they both got up and headed back to the car so he could drive Natasha back home. Once there, he helped her pack together the second box, and then a third smaller one, they made plans to get lunch together and then Jay went along his way, leaving Natasha to herself. She spent the remainder of her afternoon doing things around the house, things she'd been somewhat neglecting to do. She filled the dishwasher, she did some laundry, some general cleaning in various rooms, and then she sat down on the couch and she looked at the purple sweatshirt. Holding it in her hands, feelings its fabric and texture against her skin, she knew what she should do with it. *** The day Stephen left, Natasha curled up on the floor of her bedroom - thankfully Violet was at school - and screamed until her lungs hurt. She wrapped herself in the purple sweatshirt as it was the only place she felt safe anymore. It held all these beautiful memories, and she needed those memories then more than ever to console her in this time of great distress. After a while, she fell asleep on the floor, her head resting against the balled up sweatshirt. When Natasha awoke, she went downstairs, made some coffee, ate some eggs and then thought about what to do with her life. Should she even bother telling her parents her marriage had just ended, and, even worse, because her husband had run off with her own sister? God, she'd likely never see any of her family again, only because of the awkwardness that would ensure from such an event. Natasha headed back up the stairs and froze in the doorway to her bedroom, staring at the wadded up sweatshirt now sitting on the ground in front of her. She waited a moment, then she picked it up, hung it on a hanger and placed it inside her closet, where it had remained since. *** Violet was sitting on her bed that night, headphones on, when Natasha entered the bedroom. Violet pulled her headphones down around her neck and looked at her mom, who sat on the bed beside her. Violet turned to face her, a look of concern on her face, but Natasha smiled at her. "How was your day?" she asked. "It was okay," Violet said, "How was yours?" "Same, okay. Donated a lot of boxes of old clothing to the station for the charity drive and stuff. Um, that's actually why I wanted to talk to you for a moment, if you don't mind. When I was going through some clothes, I ran into this old sweatshirt I found. It was a favorite of mine, and I brought you home from the hospital in it." She handed the sweatshirt to Violet, who took it and immediately liked the way it felt against the skin of her fingers.She pressed it against her face and rubbed gently, making Natasha smile. "...I was so happy that day, I couldn't even remember a life without you suddenly. Felt like I'd never even had one, really. You were born prematurely, and so we hadn't settled on a name. We'd come close on a few, but none of them ever really stuck the way we wanted them too. But then, looking down at you, the little body of my favorite person swaddled comfortable in my favorite sweatshirt, it dawned on me to call you Violet, because of the color." Violet looked from the sweatshirt to her mom and raised an eyebrow. "I'm named after a sweatshirt?" she asked, rather flatly, making Natasha crack up. "Yes, I know, I know, I'm sorry," she said, "It just...it felt right. I know it isn't the most creative way to come up with a name for your newborn child, but...you were both important to me. I want you to have it now. It gave me a lot of comfort and good memories, but I think it's best if it moves on to someone who really deserves it. Who's been with it just like I have." Natasha put her hand on Violet's face and lightly brushed her cheek. "You are my favorite person in the whole world, and that was my favorite piece of clothing in the whole world, so it only seems right to stick you two together," Natasha said, "You won't make me upset or anything if you don't want it, I just thought I should-" But she didn't even get to finish. Violet threw her arms around her mom and hugged her tightly. Natasha, taken somewhat by surprise by this act of physical affection, hugged her back and smiled, shutting her eyes. It's amazing sometimes what joys and pleasures the simplest things can bring to us, she thought, and how it's our duty to pass that on to others. Violet pulled the sweatshirt on and zipped it up, then pulled the hood up over her head and smiled, making Natasha laugh. "Will you help me with my homework?" Violet asked. "Of course," Natasha said. So they sat there, the three of them, mother, daughter and sweatshirt, and did their best to keep one another afloat in a world fraught with cruelty. Sometimes, Natasha realized, she appreciated the sake of being a Simple. |
About
Public Access follows Natasha Simple, a self qualified "self help" instructor with her own show on local public access. But when she makes a sudden and surprising statement on air, her entire life changes, for the better...and the worse. Archives
December 2022
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