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sergeantsporks · 3 years ago

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Do You Want the Knife You Left in My Back, or Can I Keep It?

Rating: Teen and up, Gen

An injured Hunter wanders into Hexside. What was Luz supposed to do, just let him bleed out on the floor?

Ch 3/5: Fevered Dreams

Ch 1, Ch 2

Ao3

Eda stalked through the living room, glancing at her unwanted guest as she passed the couch. He’d fallen asleep on his stomach, his face turned to the side. She had to admit, he was pretty cute when he wasn’t being an annoying brat. He looked so… vulnerable. And small, wow, he was small. He inhaled and exhaled in little puffs, his brow furrowed like he was busy chasing down wild witches in his dreams.

Eda shook herself. “Whoa, there, owl lady,” she told herself, “He’s Belos�� stooge. You are absolutely not allowed to like him in the slightest. Nope. That’s Luz’s little pity project. He’d arrest you in a second.”

She caught King as he attempted to make a flying leap onto Hunter’s back. “Nu-uh, what do you think you’re doing?”

“He called me a rat. Therefore, he is now my personal heated beanbag. Lemme go.”

“King, you can’t jump on top of him, you’ll hurt him.”

“Yeah? Why do you care all of a sudden, Miss I’m-going-to-tackle-him-to-the-ground?”

Eda set King on the ground. “The sooner he heals, the sooner he’s out of here. Besides, I think the kid’s been through enough. Leave him be.”

“I think you’re going soft.”

“I am not! Shoo! Go find someone else to bother!”

King scrambled off, and Eda shook her head, glancing down at Hunter. He’d started to shiver, and she shook her head, tracking down a blanket and draping it over him. King was right. She was going soft.

Xxx

Luz made shushing noises at Gus and Willow as they approached the owl house. “You gotta be quiet, Viney said he needs to rest!”

“You have the Golden Guard in your house!” Willow yelped, “I am not going to be quiet!”

Luz pushed the door open. “Okay, okay.”

Gus and Willow stampeded in. “Awwww, he’s asleep!” Willow murmured.

“’Bout time,” Luz grumbled, “I was starting to wonder if he even ever slept without getting knocked out.”

Gus poked Hunter’s face. “Whoa. I still can’t believe you’ve got the golden guard sleeping on your couch.”

“Hey, don’t poke him, you might wake him up!” Luz looked down at Hunter. Something… wasn’t right, here. His breaths were coming in short pants, and his face was flushed, despite the fact that he was shivering under a blanket. She felt his forehead, and winced. “EEEEEEDAAAAAAA!” she called, pounding up the stairs. She should have known that something was off by the fact that he hadn’t woken up—he didn’t exactly seem like the type who’d be a sound sleeper.

“He’s your pet, you clean up his messes,” Eda responded from where she was rearranging the bedding in her nest, “You promised he’d be your responsibility.”

Luz grabbed her arm. “I know, I know, I know I promised, but he’s sick, Eda!”

“Sick? What do you mean, like a mold?”

“I don’t know, he’s got a really bad fever, and he didn’t wake up when Gus poked him—” Luz felt tears spring to her eyes. “Did I do something wrong? Does he have medicine he’s supposed to take or he gets sick?”

Eda sighed and clambered out of her nest. “Alright, alright, I’ll go check on your pet project. Don’t panic.”

They traipsed down the stairs, and Eda glanced down at Hunter. “Boy, he really does never relax, huh? Even when he’s asleep. Alright, what do we have here?” Fever, not waking up—I think he’s just sick, Luz, everyone gets sick. Just keep him warm, keep him hydrated, there’s not much else you can do but wait it out.”

“But Eda, he got stabbed!”

“Hmmm, you’re right, could be an infection. You should probably call up your healer friend to check, then.”

Luz raced towards the door. “Going! Gus, Willow, you coming?”

They nodded and followed her, but when Luz opened the door… something was wrong with Hooty. He was looking off into the distance, eyes glazed over, and he didn’t even notice them.

“Hooty? Hooty!”

Kikimora stepped out. “Hand over the Golden Guard, and no one needs to get hurt.”

Luz whipped out a set of glyphs. “I’m never going to give him to you. Put Hooty back to normal!”

“Well, as normal as he gets,” Willow amended.

“I won’t ask again. The Golden Guard belongs at his coven. And you are keeping him prisoner. Emperor Belos will not let you go twice, especially not after you kidnapped one of his own. Release him to me.”

“I’m not keeping him prisoner, I’m keeping him safe! From you!”

“What could he have to fear from me? I’m his coven-member.”

“Fat chance. I know you tried to kill him, twice.” Luz slammed an ice glyph down on the ground, and a spike shot out, stopping just inches from Kikimora’s face. “Leave. Now.”

Kikimora glanced at the spike, unflinching. “I will be back. And I can get past your house demon, remember that. It’s only a matter of time before the Golden Guard is mine.”

“I said, leave!”

“Very well. Tell me one thing, though; is the guard well?”

Luz froze. She knew, didn’t she? Hunter had said he’d seen a projection of her—maybe she should have taken him a little bit more seriously.

Kikimora snickered and turned to go. “I’ll be waiting out here for you and your friends, human. Never forget that.”

She disappeared into the trees, and Luz whirled around, storming back inside and slamming the door shut. “She won’t let us get help,” she growled, “She’s going to stand out there, and if she doesn’t get Hunter, the fever will!”

Eda shook her head. “You don’t know that. It’s just a fever, Luz.”

“But he’s hurt, and he’s lost a lot of blood, and I know fevers usually aren’t a big deal, but what if this one is?!”

“Okay, so what are you going to do about it?”

Luz sat down next to Hunter with a whump. “I…” Lil Rascal hopped up on her lap, chirping anxiously. She scratched the palisman’s head. “We need a healer. We just don’t know enough about what’s going on.”

“Yeah, but Kikimora’s out there,” Willow reminded her, “She’s not going to just let us go get one.”

Luz looked down at Hunter. He was still shivering, still sweating, and the heat radiating off of him was strong enough that she could feel it even without touching him. He needed a doctor, or medicine. Now. “Gus, Willow, I know it’s a lot to ask. You don’t know Hunter, and… I can’t expect you to drop everything to help him. And if you say no—”

“We say yes,” Gus interrupted her.

“Even if we don’t know Hunter, you’re still our friend, Luz,” Willow agreed, “We’ll help.”

“Okay. I’m going to go confront Kikimora. I’ll distract her, keep her busy, so you two can go get Viney, or another healer.” Luz turned to Eda. “I’ll be careful, I promise. No unnecessary risks, I won’t lose control, no matter what she says or does. I know I said I’d take care of him by myself, and I know you don’t like him. But… can you please keep an eye on him?”

Eda sighed. “Yeah, okay. I’ll take care of him.”

Luz set Lil Rascal on her shoulder. “Okay, you guys ready?”

“Ready.”

Luz threw open the door. “That demon is going down.”

Xxx

Eda sat next to Hunter, gently shaking his shoulder. “C’mon, wake up, kid, we need to get you somewhere more defendable than the couch. There’s a crazy demon out there screaming for your head.

His eyes opened just a bit, bright from the fever. “…Lilith? What’re you…”

Eda snorted. “You mistake me for my sister again and I leave you out for Kikimora. C’mon, we’re gonna get you upstairs.” His eyes slid shut again, and she shook him again, ignoring his whine of pain. “Hey, stick with me, here, I don’t know if I can carry you.”

“Dddddon’t wanna,” he mumbled, snuggling further into the couch.

Eda sighed. Oh, she was going to hate herself for this. “Golden Guard,” she snapped, doing her best impression of her sister, “the emperor requires your presence. Now.”

If he’d been a little more coherent, it probably wouldn’t have worked. But as it was, he blearily opened his eyes, grabbing her arm with a hot little hand. “Wait… ’m… coming…”

Eda helped him off of the couch, one of his arms around her shoulder. “Alright. That’s it, here we go.”

“Hnnnnghh…” Hunter whimpered as she half-carried him up the stairs, shivering, his little body burning hot against her.

“Okay, almost there.”

He collapsed with a whine when they got to the top. “Don’t… tell him… I can… I can do it… Just… a…”

Oh, okay. Ouch. That hurt. Eda scooped him up, trying her best to avoid putting pressure on his wound. “Emperor changed his mind, he said you can take a break.”

He clutched her shoulder, huffing. “No, I can—I can—don’t switch me, I can—”

“Hey—whoa, calm down. You’re not getting replaced, Belos just decided that mission actually needed to be done next week, not today, so… you’re good!”

He relaxed. “Wanna… go… bed…”

“Yeah, okay. Okay, kid.” Eda carried him into Luz’s room, setting him down gently on her sleeping roll. He whined again and yelped.

“Ah, right—” Eda turned him over so he wasn’t on his back anymore and draped blankets on top of him. “Sorry, kid.” She peered out the window. She didn’t see any disturbance—hopefully that just meant Luz hadn’t found Kikimora yet, not that Kikimora had already won. “What’s everyone putting up such a fuss about? You’re just some kid, what did you do that made Kikimora so determined to kill you?

He predictably didn’t answer, and Eda sighed, sitting back down next to him. “Belos really did a number on you, didn’t he?”

Hunter squeezed his eyes shut tighter, turning onto his side and curling up into a ball, still panting like a dog.

“Ooo, that can’t be good for your back.” Eda stood up. “I’ll be right back. Don’t go anywhere.”

She went back down the stairs towards the kitchen. “Ahh, look at me. Being all… motherly. And to the enemy. Luz really did a number on me, huh?”

Xxx

“Golden guaaaaard. Golden guard, wake up.”

Hunter didn’t want to open his eyes. His head felt like it had been wrapped in cotton, and breathing was hard, and he was just going to lie here forever. Yes. That sounded good.

“Lazy brat.”

Hunter cracked his eyes open just a bit at that. “Hngh?”

A Kikimora illusion appeared in front of him, Luz behind her, wrapped in glowing magical bonds. “I caught your little human friend. Come on out before I burn the owl house down to get to you.”

Hunter struggled to get up, but a wave of dizziness swept over him, and he fell back down. “Hnk—I—”

“Pathetic. Truly. If the emperor could see you right now, I wouldn’t have to worry about him favoring you again. Come find me, or I’ll kill the human and then come for you.”

The image fizzled out, and Hunter’s head thumped back down to the pillow, spinning. He needed to get out of here—Kikimora would kill Luz whether he came or not, but if he could just get the drop on her… yes. This would work. He was a sitting duck here, but if he could get to Kikimora first… He struggled up to his feet, and made it, inch by painful inch, to the window.

“’m coming,” he mumbled, “Jusssst… hang on…”

Xxx

Eda swirled the content of her potion around in its bottle. Painkiller, if she’d done it right. She might not know how exactly to help Hunter, but she could do this, at least. She pushed open the door to Luz’s room, kneeling next to the pile of blankets.

“Hey, Hun—” as she nudged the pile of blankets, she realized that they were too flat. She whirled around to see the open window. “Oh, no. No, no, no!” she checked under the blankets just in case, but her fears were correct.

Hunter was gone.

Xxx

Luz stepped back on the path to the owl house, shaking her head. Willow and Gus had made it safely out, and she hadn’t seen a single sign of Kikimora. Maybe that should make her suspicious, but mostly she was relieved that Gus and Willow would be able to find Viney.

That relief immediately vanished when Eda came swooping down from the sky towards her. “Luuuuuz!”

“Eda?! I thought you were staying at the house with Hunter!”

Eda landed and folded her wings with a whoosh. “I was, but Luz, I left him alone for, like, ten minutes to make a painkiller potion, and when I got back, he was gone!”

Panic swept over Luz. “Gone?! How?! He couldn’t even move when I left!”

“Yeah, I know, and he was pretty solidly out of it when I left him, but when I came back up, the window was open, and I didn’t see him anywhere!”

“He climbed out of a window?!” Luz ran a hand through her hair. “But why would he do that, there’s no…oh. Oh, no!”

“What? What is it?!”

“Hunter had been seeing Kikimora—I never saw her, but she might have been using illusion magic to communicate with him!”

“What could she have possibly said that would get that boy up?! He’s a mess, he couldn’t even make it up the stairs!”

“I don’t know, but we have to find him!”

“Luz, I hate to say it, but you don’t think that he… left to go with her? Back to the coven?”

“No WAY, Eda, he definitely wouldn’t go back with Kikimora—they hate each other. Wherever he is, she’s looking for him, too. We have to find him before she does.”

Ch. 4

#toh #the owl house #toh hunter #luz noceda #kikimora #edalyn the owl lady #my writing

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ugly-crying-over-bucky-barnes · 5 years ago

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Blue Eyes Part 3

Summary: After the Garrison is shot up, the youngest Shelby daughter finds a new home in London. She strips herself of her last name and tries to live a peaceful life far away from her brothers’ chaos in Birmingham. But fate leads her right back into it after she runs into Alfie Solomons.

Part 3: Ella attends the wedding of Tommy and Grace.

Ella remembered always wanting to be a princess. As a young girl, her head was filled with stories of fantastic adventures. Her brothers spooked her with stories of dragons and a lady that played cards with the devil. Polly wove yarns of fairies and princesses. She decided, after careful consideration, she would be a princess who was also a knight. Why should she limit herself? She could rule the land and slay dragons. And of course, Ella found that she didn’t like being dressed up as a princess. Her Sunday clothes were itchy and stiff. Polly would scold her if she returned home with scuffed shoes and torn stockings. But a girl couldn’t ride a horse with a skirt, not properly anyway. She wouldn’t sit sidesaddle and let her brothers win races because she was slipping right off her pony.

As she grew, she learned to appreciate dresses. They had their time and place. Tommy’s wedding was that time and place. But what would she wear to a wedding that was in such strange circumstances? She was sure her brother was trying to promote their family as a little higher end than from where they began. Especially because Ada had said Grace came from a military family. Figuring Polly would know best, Ella packed a few of her finer dresses and left London with Ada.

~~~~~~~~

“El!” Arthur’s loud voice boomed across the front lawn. The boys were arriving back from a ride. Her eldest brother quickly dismounted and tossed the reins at a young stable hand. He jogged to embrace his younger sister, hoisting her up and spinning around about as he used to when she was much smaller.

John and Finn followed close behind him, each getting their chance to greet her. Ella was nothing but smiles as she reunited with them. Sometimes it was hard to know how much you’ve missed someone until you’ve seen them again. And when she saw her brothers, her heart ached painfully.

“Look at you! All grown up now.” Arthur shook his head in disbelief. “Feels like you’ve been gone for ages. Swear you've gotten taller s'well.”

“It’s only been a few years, Arthur.” She reminded him gently. Her blue eyes wandered over his shoulder to see Tommy lagging behind his brothers. His hands were in his overcoat pockets as he looked on. “Are you going to just stand there?” She asked. “I haven’t been able to properly congratulate you.”

“’Fraid you weren’t coming.” He approached her. Indeed, Tommy had called Ada a few times over the month to confirm that Ella was still going to attend the wedding. He was anxious to see his sister and hope they would be able to mend some wounds of their relationship. Not having her in their life was strange. There was always a gap in the family with Ella's absence.

“I wouldn’t miss your wedding, pral.” She smiled and went to hug him.

Tommy felt relieved that he could finally hug her again. “How’s London treating you?”

“Good.” She smiled but a brief thought about Alfie Solomons poked at her. She wasn’t going to tell Tommy that she’d met him the day before his wedding, or ever. But she was hoping to get some more information from her brothers if she could.

“Want you to come meet Grace and Charlie. You need to meet your cousin, Michael, as well.” Tommy was eager for her to meet his new family. He was hoping she and Grace got along. Perhaps the wedding would give her a reason to return to Birmingham.

The chatted idly as they walked to the massive house. “I can see you’re doing very well for yourself,” Ella noted. Never in her wildest dreams would she imagine being at such a house. It was a kind of house that lords and ladies lived in, not Shelbys. But it appeared that Tommy was trying to change that perception of the family name.

“There’s always room for you to be apart of the company. You could be very useful. Michael and Polly are working on making the firm legitimate.” He informed her, hoping it would impress her and make her feel safer in Birmingham.

“I dunno, Tom.” She said with a shrug. After agreeing to attend the wedding, she used the month to think through her relationship with her family. Part of her wanted to return to the people she loved more than anything. But she was afraid of getting herself into another scenario like the Garrison four years earlier.

“Think about it, aye?” He said gently and held open the front doors of Arrow House for his sister.

Ella nodded. “I will.” She promised and stepped inside.

“Look who’s here,” A soft Irish voice floated down from the stairs. Grace came down with Charlie in her arms. She smiled warmly when she saw Tommy's sister. “We’re so glad you’re here, Ella.”

The Shelby girl smiled. “It’s nice to see you again, Grace. And this must be my nephew.” Ella cooed.

The young boy giggled and reached out for her. “Go ahead, love.” Grace handed Charlie to her to hold.

“Oh, he’s precious.” Ella murmured. “Yes, you are.”

Tommy chuckled. “He’s a rascal, that’s what he is.” He slipped off his coat and cap. “I’m sure you’ll get to see how he is when he’s cranky.”

“That’s okay, he probably gets it from you, Tommy.”

Grace smiled and nodded. “That’s what I said.”

“Guess London hasn’t changed you that much.” Tommy rolled his eyes and touched her shoulder. “Polly and Michael will be in the study I think if you'd like to see them now.”

Ella gave Charlie back to Grace and followed her brother down the hall. “Did you find her daughter too?” She remembered brief memories of her cousins. She was very young but she remembered hearing about them being ripped away from Polly. They all thought it was nearly impossible to find the children again until Tommy gained such connections.

“I found out she passed away,” Tommy answered quietly. “Pol’s handled it well though. Think she’s glad Michael’s back.”

“That’s a shame.”

When they entered, Polly stood in surprise and rushed to hug her niece. “Thank God you’re well.” The older woman touched her cheeks to make sure she looked healthy.

Ella bit her lip and felt a little teary. Polly was practically her mother and the years away from her had been tough on the young woman. “I’ve missed you, Pol.”

“We’ve all missed you too.” Her forehead creased and she sighed softly. “But I’m just glad you’re okay.”

Ella saw the other person in the room stand up. “And you must be Michael, it’s been a very long time since I've seen you.” She smiled and took in the young man who seemed like he had thoroughly embraced the Shelby lifestyle. He was well dressed and holding a cigarette.

He nodded. “You're Ella, I don’t remember much but it’s very nice to meet you again. I've heard a lot about you.”

Polly looked proud of her son. “He’s a big help in the company, very clever.” She boasted.

“Then you really are Polly’s son.” Ella laughed softly. "Grey's are very clever."

“Come sit and tell me what you’ve been doing in London.” Her aunt ushered her over to the couch. “Tommy, I’m sure you’ve got things to do for the wedding.”

“Well, as far as I know, I just need to get dressed and make it to the church.” Tommy reached into his coat for a cigarette. “But I’ll let you all catch up.”

~~~~~~~~~~

“Fucking uniforms,” John grumbled.

Ella laughed softly and shook her head. She glanced across the aisle to Grace’s side of the family. The men had faces like stone and the women looked highly displeased with their surroundings. “I’m sure Tommy told you to be on your best behavior, John boy. Can't be violent at Tommy's wedding.”

Her brother muttered a few curses under his breath. “Also fucking told me they wouldn’t be in uniforms.”

“Try to ignore them, they'll only try to rile you up." She drew his attention away from the men. "Listen, have you heard much about a man named Alfie Solomons? From Camden Town?” Ella asked, trying to sound as casual as she could so she didn’t raise any alarms.

John wrinkled his nose. It was hard to mention the name without garnering some type of reaction. The Shelbys normally had a bad reaction. “The fuck do you know about him?”

“John!” Esme hissed and smacked her husband’s arm. “We’re in fucking church, don’t swear. Giving a bad example to the kids.”

Ella giggled but her brother looked suspicious that she had brought up the Jewish gangster’s name. Before he could ask anything else, the organ music began, announcing Grace's arrival.

~~~~~~~~~~

“No fucking fighting!” Tommy shouted after repeating himself many times in the kitchen. The Blinders all around him, grumbling and muttering about how unfair he was being.

“Tom.” John adjusted the pick in his mouth.

“What? Are you seriously asking a question?” His older brother asked, turning to him. “You can’t possibly be confused about what I’m saying.” Finn and Isaiah snickered at the comment.

“No, it’s ‘bout Ella.” He clarified.

Tommy looked concerned. His shoulders slumped slightly and he worried she had already left. Maybe he’d pushed the issue of her returning to Birmingham too much. “What about her?”

“In the church, she was asking about Alfie Solomons.”

“What?” Arthur demanded sharply. “What the fuck do you mean she’s asking ‘bout him?”

John just shrugged. “I dunno, she didn’t tell me why.”

Tommy paced a few steps and took a puff of his cigarette. “Fuck.” He muttered under his breath and dragged a hand over his face. “Just…don’t mention it again to her. I’ll take care of it.” He really didn’t want to discuss Alfie on his wedding day and he certainly didn’t want to know how his baby sister knew about him.

“Don’t want Alfie fucking Solomons sniffing 'round her.” Arthur snarled. "If he does he'll regret it."

“She might’ve just heard his name before.” Finn offered.

Tommy shook his head. “Just drop it.” He ordered. “I don’t want to hear you bring it up ‘round her again.”

`~~~~~~~~~~~~

After a few hours into the reception, Ella wandered off. She found the stables after a bit of roaming around the grounds. As she inhaled the familiar scent of horses, she realized she was much more comfortable there instead of in the lavish Arrow House. She came across a beautiful dapple-gray horse; a large gelding that certainly would’ve caught her attention as a young girl. She would never tire of braiding the horse’s silver mane and tail, brushing its coat until it gleamed in the sun.

“You’re a beauty, aren’t you?” She let the horse sniff her hand before stroking his soft muzzle. “Maybe Tommy’ll let me take you out for a spin tomorrow.” It’d been a while since she’d ridden. She missed the horses at her uncle’s yard. She missed far more than she could even count. She sighed and stroked the horse’s cheek. “He’ll probably make me agree to come back to Birmingham though.”

The horse snorted softly in reply. He sniffed her shawl for any treats, his tail swishing, and ears perked.

“Thought I noticed you missing.”

Ella glanced over to see Tommy walking into the stables. “Getting a bit rowdy for me. I don't think I could listen to another one of John's jokes. I forgot how fucking awful they were."

Tommy chuckled and nodded. “Well, it’ll only get rowdier, the boys are coming to race.” He warned her.

She nodded. “Okay, I’ll go back inside then.” She had a feeling her brothers wouldn’t let her stick around and watch the race. In fact, she had a feeling they were going to fix it just to get one over on the cavalry. So she made her way to the barn door.

“Before you go.” Tommy reached out and grabbed her arm as she went to pass by him in the stable aisle. “You need to explain why you brought up Alfie Solomons to John.”

“Alfie Solomons?” Ella raised an eyebrow. “I don’t…”

“John told me you were asking about him in the church.” Tommy interrupted so she knew he wasn’t about to let her pull the wool over his eyes.

“Oh,” Ella shrugged and tried to remain aloof about the subject. “Amelia might’ve mentioned the name to me. Have I told you about Amelia? She’s got all sorts of stories ‘bout London.” Technically, her best friend was the one who told her about the gangster. But Tommy didn’t need to know that was only after Ella had seen the man in person.

“Why would she bring him up?” Tommy’s icy blue eyes studied her expression. He was usually very good at telling when someone was flat out lying to him. But it was hard to distinguish when Ella had mastered the art of lying like a Shelby. Be evasive, answer questions with other questions, omit details, and stay cool, calm, and collected. Plus, Tommy had a weak spot for her sister; he never assumed she was lying, unlike other people he encountered in his line of work.

“She’s always got a story to tell.” Ella made sure to maintain enough eye contact so he didn’t grow more suspicious.

Tommy let the cigarette in his fingers burn in the air for a moment. The smoke curled around his hand and disappeared out of the barn door into the dark night. “You should tell her it’s wise to avoid talking ‘bout that man.” He said firmly. “You don’t want to be connected to him even in passing.”

“How do you know him?” Ella turned the spotlight back on her brother, hopefully, to acquire information John didn’t give her earlier.

“We’ve crossed paths before.” He admitted. “Nothing you need to worry about.”

Ella tilted her head to the side. “Do I have to worry about him finding out I’m a Shelby?” Of course, she didn’t think Alfie would be able to connect the dots just with a brief meeting.

“Doesn’t matter, because you won’t be going near him,” Tommy replied with a stern look. “You keep away from Camden Town and the Jews there. They all answer to him as far as I know.”

“You’ve changed, Tommy.” His sister noted quietly. “You’ve seen more things…done more things since I’ve been ‘round.”

He took a drag of his cigarette to avoid the question for a moment. “You said you didn’t want to be part of it, don’t think that’s something you have to worry about.”

“I’m your fucking sister, I can worry about you,” Ella replied, irked by his cold demeanor towards her when business was being spoken about. Back in Small Heath, when she was still just a teenager, he’d often tell her with a proud smile that they were moving up in the world. He’d promise her horses, luxuries, a new home, and when she was old enough, a car. Now he was acting like she had no right to even inquire about his well-being. “Tom, you used to tell me everything.” She furrowed her eyebrows. “You didn’t even tell me you had Charlie.”

He didn’t look at her for a long while. “You told me you didn’t want anything to do with Shelby Company Limited.” He echoed himself. “You went off to London and I didn’t hear from you, El. M’too busy to keep track of someone who’s gone and done a runner.”

“I didn’t run,” Ella argued, her temper was beginning to bubble up in her stomach, moving to her chest and throat. “Can you blame me for what I did?”

Tommy shrugged and finished his cigarette. “You were keen to tell me you could make your own choices. I can’t blame you.”

Angry tears stung Ella’s blue eyes. “Arthur and John were happy to see me. Polly understood my choice. Ada supports me in London. You’re the only one who’s still acting like a fucking brat!”

Tommy’s jaw clenched. “Don’t speak to me like that.” He retorted fiercely and pointed at her. “You’ve no right to come in and pretend we’ve abandoned you when you decided to leave.” His face clouded over with anger. “Now either you’re apart of this fucking family and you put up with what the rest of us put up with, or you go back to London and pretend we all don’t exist. You can’t have it both ways, Ella. You’re not a child anymore.”

Ella balled her hands into fists. Her Traveler instincts kicked in, the days she spent in the meadows outside Small Heath. The boys she had to beat up to prove she was a Shelby. The time she broke an older boy’s nose because he was running his mouth about their family.

“Gypsies.” He taunted. “Gonna read my fortune? Pick me pockets?”

It took both her older brothers to wrench her off the boy who dared make fun of her and her family. Now Tommy was questioning her, questioning the decision she made. Maybe she was wrong and being a hypocrite, but she was far too upset to think rationally.

“Everyone talks about the curse on the Shelbys. Our fucking cursed family. It’s you. It’s you, Tommy! You’re the fucking curse!” She shouted and caused a few horses to stir in their stalls nearby. “You’ve poisoned this family and continue to do whatever you want, without giving a fuck what the rest of us think.”

Tommy stood straight in front of her, not interrupting or moving away. He stood like a soldier, braced against her venomous words.

“You can fuck your wedding. Fuck your company. Fuck your indifference.” Ella spat and turned on her heel to leave the stables.

A group of men was staggering across the lawns, gearing up for the race they were about to fix.

“Where’ya going, Ellie?” John’s voice boomed across the grounds. He grabbed her by the shoulder. “Come watch the race! We’re gonna show those uniforms how s’done!”

“Fuck your big mouth!” Ella shouted at him and jerked away from his touch. "You're just a fucking little messenger to Tommy, aren't you?!"

Arthur looked concerned at her sudden outburst. He thought everything had been going well with the return of his younger sister. But now she was glaring daggers at the group of Blinders. “El?”

“Fuck this whole bloody cursed family!” She continued ranting on her way back to Arrow House. She promptly grabbed her things and took Ada’s car back to London without telling anyone she’d left.

~~~~~~~~~~~

Ella was stewing for a week after the wedding. Her family members, minus Tommy, had been trying to reach out to her. But she ignored all their calls and letters. Ada visited her home a few times but Ella turned her away.

She felt snubbed by Tommy who was once her closest confidante and friend. When they had nothing, she had Tommy to rely on. He'd comfort her if she was picked on by kids her age. He'd keep her company when she felt lonely after the death of their mother. He was more than just a brother, he was a support system.

At night, she stayed up staring at the ceiling. Her mind raced and kept her awake for hours. Maybe she’d been wrong for leaving the family, but she was terrified. Tommy couldn’t appreciate how scared she was. He was unafraid of death. She almost thought she had gained the confidence and strength to return to Birmingham, but not after that debacle in the stables.

Ella would toss and turn, thinking about what Tommy had to say. The way he’d spoken to her like she was nothing more than a stranger. How could he be so cold? If he was so twisted about everything else then maybe he was dead wrong about Alfie Solomons.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The next time Ella saw Alfie, she’d wandered close to the edge of Camden Town. She decided it was most likely an indirect middle finger to her brother who had warned her to stay away. Tommy didn't choose where she could go anymore. If he didn't want her in the family, then she could go anywhere in London.

“You on your own?”

Ella was walking down a strip of stores when she heard his voice. She turned and felt a spark of intrigue.

He stood just as he had in the club. Broad shoulders, exaggerated frame, and militant stance. This time, he had a large bullmastiff with him.

“My friend was busy,” Ella answered with a faint smile. “Is that your dog?”

He moved a little closer to her. The gangster had been happy to spot her piercing blue eyes in the crowd of shoppers and wanderers. Ever since the night at the club, Alfie had been unable to get her face out of his head. It was highly unusual for him to think twice about a woman he came in contact with. He hardly had the time to think about something so trivial as a chance encounter. Relationships were agonizingly complicated and his life was complex enough. He worked too much and lived too brutally for a woman to handle, or so he thought.

But there was something about this woman that he couldn’t overlook. Beyond her blue eyes that were as hypnotic as they were alluring, there was something else. She wasn’t like anyone he passed by in the street. A keen eye could see she held secrets and a substantial past.

And Alfie couldn’t help but appreciate the way she looked at him. It was so strange because she didn’t look at him the way others did. Not with hatred, like his enemies, not with malice, like his foes, and not with fear, like the rest of the population who knew his name. No, she looked at him like a person, nothing more, nothing less. Just a man. Not a man shrouded in myth and stories. Just a man.

“Yeah, this is Cyril, s’a real softie.” He said. "Likes attention, he does."

Ella smiled. She’d grown up closer to horses but as a child, she bonded with a few of the hounds they used for hunting or protection. Dogs and horses were similar in nature. You had to gain their trust, and when you did, they would be loyal to you until the ends of the Earth. “He is handsome.” She said and reached out to stroke the dog’s ears. His tail began to wag fiercely and his droopy face almost resembled a sad smile. He was a massive dog, his shoulder meeting her hips. He was nearly the size of a little Shetland pony but appeared to be just as Alfie had described him. He gratefully let her pet him, his head tilting to lean into her touch and his eyes closing contently.

“You got a story, love?” Alfie asked out of the blue. He acted like it was a natural question between people who were near strangers.

Ella glanced up from Cyril. “A story?” She raised an eyebrow at him. “Well, I s'ppose everyone has a story, Mr. Solomons.”

“Call me Alfie.” He corrected her with a gentleness that contradicted his appearance. He didn't address her with the harsh tone he took towards the bartender and club owner the first night they met.

“Alfie.”

The gangster didn’t know how he could be so affected by the way someone said his name. But the way she spoke his name was unbearable. She said it with a smile and a small nod. Her blue eyes shone in the sun that was starting to break away from the gloomy clouds. Alfie’s heart made itself known by beating heavy in his chest.

“What’s your story, Alfie?” She turned the question back on him.

He chuckled and ran a hand over his beard. “S’quite a long one.” He warned. "Not sure you'll want to stick around, yeah, to hear all the details."

“Mine's long too. But I'm sure yours is much more exciting than mine is.”

“Well then, right, can’t spend all day standing here telling our stories, aye? Guess I’ll have to take you out to dinner so we have enough time.” He stated coolly.

Surprise marked Ella’s face. Inner warning bells chimed off but she shooed them away. The man seemed sweet and she had spent enough time around dangerous men to know that she could handle them. Her brothers had prepared her for that. If her brothers could get away with the things they did, then who were they to speak poorly about Alfie? Resigned and partially rebellious, Ella nodded. “I’d like that.” She replied gently.

“Yeah?” It was Alfie’s turn to be surprised. What kind of delicate looking woman, who knew who he was, agreed to dinner with him? Thoroughly in disbelief, he nodded a few times too many. “Right, well…this Friday I’ve got some time.”

“I’m free on Friday.”

“Friday then. We’ll meet here.” He decided. “I know a nice place ‘round here for dinner.”

“That sounds lovely.” A week was more than enough time to edit her brothers out of her life story.

Permanent Tag: @papa-geralt-of-cirilla @giftofdreams

Tag list: @deaflikehawkeye @octaviareina

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yourholidaymom · 4 years ago

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Your Holiday Mom: Mama Lisa

Welcome home, my sweet baby.

We are so glad you are here. My strong arms grab you in a full embrace as soon as you step through the front door. Every time I see you, my love grows stronger. Here comes your super tall, skinny, goofy dad with an even bigger hug. But wait for it, around the corner comes running your rascally Kindergarten brother, who jumps on your back, followed by your 2-year-old sister, who latches on to your leg. Is this enough love yet? Watch out. More is coming your way, buddy.

Our home is small but full of good energy around the holiday season. All about the house I’ve strung pine branches that fell from a windstorm. In our cozy living room the scents of our fresh tree, garland, and pumpkin candle are ever-present. Even better is what awaits you in the kitchen. Your ol’ ma expresses a lot of love through her baking and cooking. I’ve made iced cinnamon tea-rings, kolaches, dozens of cookies, spiced nuts. The smell of Wassail fills the steamy kitchen: orange, clove and cinnamon. After you grab a warm cup and a few cookies, we sit down on our leather couch with the pellet stove burning in front of us. Your little siblings try to steal your cookies, but I’ve already thought ahead and brought the whole dang tin in to share. It’s the holidays, no such thing as spoiling your appetite. (For Christmas Eve, I’ve made Aunt Verna’s tortilla soup recipe, I’m sure you’ll make room for it.)

Holidays around here have been a combination of old and new traditions. I hope one day you can start some new traditions of your own. Morning walks, board games, a holiday movie like The Christmas Story. On Christmas Eve, each one of us gets to pick one gift from under the tree to open. The most important tradition is making sure we’ve caught up with each other by the end of our holiday break. I love you, honey, and want to know who you are, what your dreams and passions are, who your friends are, what blogs or funny youtube videos you like. Let’s talk politics in a safe and respectful way. You know your mama isn’t perfect, but I have always strived to show you respect so I could earn yours in return. I will always have an ear to listen and a heart to love you unconditionally. I won’t forget what you tell me about yourself, in fact I’ll follow up on things and try my best to stay updated on your life as it changes day to day. I try so hard to honor and listen because I’ve never had that kind of respect from my parents. In fact, I’ve known many people over the years who don’t honor, don’t listen because they’re afraid of what they don’t care to understand. So, I know, honey, what it’s like to be on the outside. To feel disrespected, ignored, lonely, humiliated, hopeless, grief-stricken and severely depressed. I want to tell you something my parents neglected to tell me. It’s so simple, but here goes: It is not the end. This is not your last page, but your first every day. It can suck around this time of the year, I know. But all this pressure to perform at acceptable levels of happiness or perfection isn’t expected here in this home. Let’s just sit and be together. I will tell you again and again – every day gets easier and if it doesn’t seem that way, I will hold you until it does.

xo,

** This year we are reprising your favorite letters. The original post date of this letter was Nov 26, 2017.

Your Holiday Mom: Mama Lisa was originally published on Your Holiday Mom

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ericka-writes · 7 years ago

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broken bones (shredded soul) // one

Summary: It's been seven hundred and sixty five days and Eddie Kaspbrak can't help but think if he's going to die in this room.

It's been one thousand and one hundred forty seven days since he saw Richie Tozier and he still loves him just the same.

Pairing/s: Reddie, side Stanlon and Benverly

Word Count: 2,658

Read it on Ao3

It was cold and dark. He was laying in a bed that was unfamiliar yet it made him feel so uneasy. The place was eerily silent that it was as if the air in this tiny room was suffocating him. He wanted to sit up but he couldn't move his body. He can feel his heart beating rapidly against his chest. He shut his eyes tightly, trying his best to calm down. A heavy weight dropped itself on his chest, making it harder for him a breathe. Suddenly, a shriek filled the atmosphere. The voice made his blood run cold, he didn't know what to do. He was trapped, caged inside his own body. He yelled and yelled but no sound came out of his mouth.

"What do you think you're doing, Eddie?" the voice slurred, "Thinking of going back to that rascal? No. You're going to stay here, with me."

Eddie. That was his name.

"He's bad influence, Edward. He infected you with his disease. Not to worry, The doctors will fix you."

Eddie. No, that's not his name.

"You know what will happen if you go back to those miscreants, Eddie-bear. Listen to me."

No No No No No

"Don't worry, Eddie. When I come back, you'll be good as new. Its okay, you'll be okay."

His eyes were already open when the loud buzzing interrupted the silence he was surrounded by. A few minutes after that, keys jingling to open the door was the noise that occupied his ears. His eyes slowly trailed towards the door, meeting the eyes of the nurse he had ever since he can remember. Dianne was her name, she had dark curly that she likes to tie into a messy bun. She's thirty two years old; twelve years older than him and she insists on treating him like a baby.

"Hey, Stranger." she greeted him with a smile, something he didn't return. It made Dianne's warm grin fall, making him feel guilty. With a sigh, she placed the tray of food she was holding on his bedside table and sat by the foot of the small bed. She gave him a small smirk and asked, "How about a little game, yeah?"

He was silent for a moment, then he nodded. Knowing his competitive side, it made her smile as she counted it as a success on getting him to do something productive for the day. Starting with something easy, she asked "How about you tell me what you remember?"

He was still, not knowing what to say. He racked his brain for anything that he could remember before finally saying, "My name is Eddie, I'm twenty years old."

Dianne hummed before asking "Is that all?" Eddie wanted to say no; he wanted to tell her about his dreams, the shrill voice, the feeling of drowning but instead, he settled with "I remember strawberries and cigarettes." making her smile widely.

"Strawberries and cigarettes, huh? Think you used to smoke?" Dianne lightly teased him before standing up, taking the tray of food and settling it on his lap. The tray consisted of a banana, a small packet of bread, some eggs, a water bottle and the small cup that had his medicines. Eddie sighed, "I highly doubt that."

"Come on, cheer up a little. Dr. Green told me he has something important to tell you." she said, trying to lighten the mood.

"Who?" he mumbled as he sat up, rubbing the exhaustion out of his eyes. Dianne eyed him before sighing , "Dr. Green, honey. He's in charge of the whole hospital."

"Wash up afterwards then head on to his office, okay?" she called out as she walked out the door, leaving Eddie alone.

With him all alone, it gave him the time to think about what could Dr. Green possibly want from him. He was a quiet patient, not like the others who would cause such a ruckus. He can be trusted to take him medicines and be left alone, so Eddie was just confused why would the head of the hospital want to see him. The only time he ever saw the doctor was seven months ago, when Eddie had woken up from a therapy they tried out. From what he could gather, his old doctor was an asshole and did the method wrong so as a result, he fell into a coma and woke up with no memory of his life before that day. Sometimes, he wonders why he's even in this hospital. He doesn't look like a lunatic nor does he act or think like one but then again, that is what a crazy person would say.

After his breakfast, he cleaned himself up and walked towards Dr. Green's office. He knocked softly on the door, opening it when he heard a 'come in'. He peaked in before entering the room, walking towards the doctor. He wasn't alone. A woman was seated on the chair beside him, She looked well put together; her hair in a neat ponytail and a briefcase right beside her. The doctor stood up, " Eddie, this is Mrs. Gomez. Mrs. Gomez, this is Eddie Kaspbrak."

Eddie reached forward to shake the woman's hand. He sat down as Dr. Green pointed on the chair behind him.

Green looked at him and said, "Do you remember when you woke up from your therapy seven months ago? We told you that the doctor assigned to you did the procedure wrong causing your body to react so badly that you fell into a coma." when he nodded, the doctor continued "And you lost all of your memories because of it, yes?" he nodded again "Eddie, the truth is you've been checked into this facility three years ago. Your mother insisted that you needed proper treatment because you've been infected by some kids back in your hometown. A doctor named Henrik Weltch checked on you" He handed him a picture of the man, "Do you remember him?"

"Stay still, you little faggot. Your mother paid me good money and I intend on getting more of it."

"No." Eddie said, shaking his head hastily.

With a sigh, the doctor continued "Well, your mother and Weltch happen to be friends with the same mind, she paid him a lot of money and in return, he would do these methods on you, treatments, shock therapy to be exact, and medicines that weren't prescribed for you to take." the knowledge made him touch the scars on both his temples.

Eddie shook his head, "My mother insisted that I get treatment even when there isn't anything wrong with me? Why?"

Doctor Green looked at him with sympathy in his eyes, "We don't know for sure but we think its because she thought with the treatments she made Weltch do, you can convert back to your 'true-self' as your mother had put it. She thought with the medicine, you wouldn't be infected."

Eddie took a deep breath, pinching the bridge of his nose "Correct me if I'm wrong but did my mother payed that man to torture me into turning straight?"

"Unfortunately, yes. Its a good thing we found out what he's been doing to you. We caught him and sent him to jail, where he deserves to be. And you would have been released seven months ago but we didn't want to risk your mother sending you into another facility. Not to worry now, It's not a problem anymore. Mrs. Gomez?" the doctor turned to the woman beside him.

"Hi, Eddie. I'm your mother's lawyer. I'm sorry to be the one to tell you but your mother died last week because of a heart attack."

He had a mother, and now she's dead. Eddie doesn't know if he should be happy or sad because his mother is dead. From what he's been hearing so far, his mother checked him into a mental health facility even though he's perfectly fine, she paid money for a guy to torture him and she wouldn't give a shit that the doctor was in jail already, she would willingly check him in another asylum. So, yeah, his mother sounds like a bitch and he doesn't know what to feel about that.

"This means everything she owns, according to her will, will be given to you. That means the house in Derry, Maine and everything that she owns; money, jewelry, everything. And I checked in with Doctor Green and he says that you do have G.A.D. but you don’t really have any major mental illnesses that we could consider you mentally incapable of deciding what's best for you so it would be okay for you to sign these." she finished handing him the documents and a pen to use. So, his mother is bitch but a rich bitch?

Eddie didnt know what to do, to say or to think but he knows one thing; he wanted to get the hell out of this place. So, He took the papers and signed.

He was packing up the very little things that he had when Dianne walked into his room.

"So, you're really leaving, huh?" she said with a sad smile on her lips "Im happy for you, really."

He sighed, "I don't even know where I'm going, Dianne. I don't know anything or anyone. I don't even know where I'm going to live. I'll probably be living in the streets after I leave." That's not exactly true, his mother did leave him a ton of money according to the Mrs. Gomez.

"Wait."she said before digging into his suitcase. She stopped when she saw a small green handbook, opening it and looking for something. "Aha!" she said, pointing at a page "Mike Hanlon, sounds legit. Come on, lets call him up." she tease, bumping her shoulder with his. He may hate this place, but he will surely miss Dianne. He stood up, closing his suitcase, and walking out of the room he occupied for three years.

They walked to the front desk, picking up his papers and calling 'Mike'. Dianne told him he should be the one to call the guy but he insisted that she talked to him instead. He felt uncomfortable talking to a guy he didn't know. As he anxiously waited for Dianne, he began to have a debate whether she should hang up on him or not.

Good Morning, this is Dianne from The Sisters of Merciful Angels. Is this Mr. Mike Hanlon?

Yeah Hi, This is him. How can i help you?

Sir, Do you know anyone named Eddie Kaspbrak?

um Eddie? yeah why?

Well, sir Would it be okay for you to pick him up? He's being released today and he doesn't really have a place to go.

.....

Sir?

What kind of game are you playing? Do you not have any respect?

I'm sorry, sir? i don't understand.

Eddie's been dead for three years. We know that, we had our peace with that. What do you think you'll get from this?

Sir, Im so sorry if i offended you on any sort but Mr. Kaspbrak is alive. He's been with us for the past three years. I don't know who told you that he's dead but he's alive and well. Would you like to talk to him?

Can I talk to him?

Of course, sir. Please keep in mind that he's gone through a lot and he doesn't remember anything from the last twenty years. He doesn't remember you as well.

Okay.

Dianne turned to him, "He wants to talk to you" his eyes widened, slowly talking the phone with his shaky hands. He cleared his throat before saying "Hello?"

Eddie?

Um, Mr. Hanlon, I would understand if you don't wa-

Oh my god, Eddie, It is you.

Um, yeah, its me.

I don't understand, Sonia said you were dead. She said you had cancer or some shit?

Who's Sonia? Oh wait, my mother. Right.

Yeah. Where are you? Ill pick you up.

Uh, talk to Dianne

And with that, he gave the phone to Dianne. As it turns out, Mike was four hours away, being in New York.

Dianne told me that they were in Boston, How in the hell did he end up in Boston?

Hours have passed, Dianne did her best to check up on him but she had to work or else she'll get fired. The girl at the front desk turned on the radio at some point. After a hurricane of high pitched pop songs, the soft tune of an acoustic guitar filled the waiting room Eddie was sitting in. The voice was deep and a little rugged, it felt so familiar. He can feel his heart wanting to burst out of his chest. The song continued on, he can feel himself slip into oblivion.

Laughter; the atmosphere was filled with laughter and joy. It was new for Eddie to feel this way. It was odd because for the last seven months, all he dreamed about was that shrill voice and the emptiness he feels in his heart. He felt free, like he could fly along with the birds on the sky. He can move, feel the grass and dirt beneath his feet.

"Come on, Eds! Stop being a pussy!" A voice screamed at him, the voice was followed by a group of laughter. He turned towards the noise, wanting to see who was talking to him.

"Oh my fuck, Kaspbrak! Hurry up and jump already!" "Jump! Jump! Jump! Jump!" "Come on! What a chicken!"

"Alright, you fuckers!" he took a deep breath and jump off the cliff, landing on the murky green water. He swam towards the surface, gasping for air. Arms wrapped around his waist and a wet kiss was placed on his cheek. "I knew you could do it, Eds!"

His vision was blurry, he couldn't see the boy in front of him. He squeezed his eyes shut before opening them again, desperate to see who was calling him that.

Eds. That was his name, not his real name of course but he wanted it to be. He didn't want to be Eddie, he didn't want complicated and pain. He didn't want the emptiness and demons that came with Eddie. He just wanted to stay there, in the arms of the boy who calls him Eds. He wanted the blissful feeling of peace and love. He just wanted to be Eds.

He woke up to a new song; it was loud and obnoxious, he feels like an old man for saying that. To pass some time, he decided to read the magazines placed on the coffee table in front of him. Halfway through his third magazine, the doors busted open causing Eddie to look up from his paper. A guy with dark skin and dark shrivelled hair came in with a curly headed guy right behind him. Their eyes searched the room until it landed on Eddie. It made him feel nervous but when the two of them came running towards him, he couldn't help himself from standing up to meet them halfway.

Arms were suddenly around him, hugging him so tight that he couldn't breathe but he did nothing to stop them. Both of the their smell hit him in the face, it made him smile. Tears streamed down his face, he didn't know why but he doesn't mind, they're crying as well. The guy with dark hair was the first to pull away, kissing his forehead again and again before hugging him tightly, he couldn't help but laugh.

He may not know these two, nor does he know the name of this guy that has kissed him so many times on his forehead but he couldn't bring himself to mind so much because with the pair of them crying softly against each his shoulder, he thinks that there might be a chance that he belongs perfectly with them.

He never felt more at home.

#reddie #richie tozier #eddie kaspbrak #it au #reddie fanfic #my writing #stanlon #benverly #broken bones

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dixonspeaker-blog · 7 years ago

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6th Grader’s Weren’t Allowed to Play Sports

By Dixon Speaker

For Paulette Speaker

6th graders weren’t allowed to play sports. That was the rule. Maybe they wanted us focusing on the radical transition from elementary school, where one teacher taught all subjects in one single classroom, to the middle school format where 8 different teachers taught their own specialized subjects in 8 different classrooms. This was difficult, especially for young boys who latch onto any new distraction like rodeo clowns to a loose bull. Or maybe the reason was something simpler, like they didn’t want us playing contact sports with 8th graders who were significantly more developed than us. In football, for example, the middle school league was called “The Unlimited League,” as in, wow, that guy who is about to hit Dixon looks like he weighs unlimited pounds. I did play Halfback in high school, and during one game a missed down block by our center created a free sprinting lane for Garnet Valley’s 315-pound nose-tackle. I’ve never been struck by a moving car but this was the closest thing to it. Anyway, regardless of the reasoning, the rule they had was no sports, so everyone in 6th grade had to find other things to do. For me this created a problem. I played a lot of sports growing up. You could say my life was made up of finding ways to pass the time between games. Most 6th graders just went home and played with their brothers or sisters. This wasn’t an option for me. I didn’t have any brothers or sisters. I still don’t. On top of that, both my parents worked full time: My Dad travelled 3-4 days a week selling purified natural gasses while my mother worked until 6 o’clock at night as an executive in a furniture company. So every day after school I took the bus to Mom Mom’s. Mom Mom’s house was located literally on the edge of a cliff, sandwiched on the other side by a busy highway that she would never dream of letting me cross alone to seek out comrades in the surrounding neighborhoods. I was therefore left to occupy myself at Mom Mom’s cliff-side abode, which had several acres of fenced-in backyard to run through, but no other children to share it with. There was only so much a 12 year old child interested in sports and videogames and a 70 year old woman who grew up with a pet raccoon could do together before they both got bored. I had to find something to do with my time, and what I decided to do was to try out for the school play (This was allowed. No sports, but any and all other after school activities were acceptable). The play that year- the “fall drama” as they called it- was an adaptation of The Little Rascals. You can guess what the play was actually about, because I don’t remember. I was not an actor. I was never in a play before. No one in my family had any type of performance background. In fact, the only time I remembered stepping foot inside a theatre was once when I was very young. A bearded man in a yellow costume darted across the stage and terrified me down to the most central whispers of my being. I cried so hard my mother had to take me home early. A picture of that man remains vivid in my memory, even today. I joined the play anyway. I had a The Little Rascals movie on VHS tape that I would watch from time to time. Also, trying something foreign and failing badly still outweighed spending every day after school alone watching Disney in a dark corner of Mom Mom’s house. Now, before trying out for the play you have to think about trying out for the play, which was much more stressful than the tryouts themselves. Being in the school play was not considered “cool” by any standards, something I was very much concerned with in 6th grade. Middle school was a weird time for me. There was a lot of figuring out who I was and who I wanted to be going on, and I knew precious little about either. What others thought of me, how I appeared, was something that consistently occupied my thoughts. It was this type of thinking that lead to the events of this story. The day before tryouts I was approached by one of the deans, Mr. Sag. We locked eyes across the hall. I knew that I was toast. Mr. Sag was old, so old that he actually taught both of my parents when they attended that same middle school many years before. Pennsylvania teachers got generous pension benefits, at least they did back then, so it was common to see strange old men like Sag in schools throughout the state. He shouted my last name as he approached me. Speaker! I didn’t say anything, just stared up at him and blinked. He was a big man. His face was a slab of wet meat hanging in a butcher shop. I heard you’re trying out for the play he said. Well, I was, you know, just thought I. His eyes fired up and he took a step closer. His head blocked all the light in the hall. He took a deep breath before he spoke. Are you an athlete, or are you some thespian? Spit flew out of his mouth in all directions. He stomped off without waiting for a response. I turned slowly just in time to see the back of his enormous head bob down the stairs and out of sight. Students were walking all around me but I might as well have been standing alone on the moon. I was impressionable and crushed to pieces. I sat quietly through the rest of my classes without answering any questions or writing a single note. I went straight to the bus after school. At Mom Mom’s I ate a TV dinner and watched Disney in the dark until my mom picked me up at 6. In the car I told her I had changed my mind. I didn’t want to try out for the play anymore.

Halfway through school the next day I changed my mind again. Screw Sag, I was trying out for that damn play. When the 2:30 bell rung I talked a bit with my friends and by three I was headed to the auditorium. It felt strange to walk the empty halls. Like I was in the same place only very far away. Another universe, maybe another time. How the tryouts went is unimportant. I forget what it is they made me do. I don’t remember rehearsing any lines, so I probably just had to read something. I got a speaking role but it wasn’t a big role and I wasn’t even a real Little Rascal. My character was just called Dixon. When the thing was over I walked down the hill to where the busses picked us up. These were called the “Five O’clock Busses,” and they had and different numbering and routing system than the traditional busses that took most of the students home at 3. The Five O’clock Busses were for kids doing activities. I asked around that day and found out what bus dropped me off closest to my Mom Mom’s house. I had not thought about being dropped off on the wrong side of the busy highway. You’ll soon see why that didn’t matter. As I stood there, a bus which was not my bus careened into the loop and stopped abruptly. The door swung open. I looked up into the bus and saw a large woman with long blonde hair wearing a baseball cap. Her hair was flying all around. She scowled down at me. I immediately recognized this woman. Her name was Millie. I knew her because she drove me to preschool and I was her first pick-up of the day. We grew close and even had a song we would sing together until we reached the second pick-up. In elementary school I turned heinous one day and she had to pull the bus over. We never spoke again until this day. She shouted at me to get in. Silently seated on that bus, bumping forward, hands in lap, the few seemingly minor decisions and the radical consequences they created began to set in. It went like this: The night before I told my mom that I was definitely not trying out for the play. So, to her, life would proceed as usual and I would take the bus home after school to Mom Mom’s. The next day I changed my mind- now this is key- and didn’t tell anyone. If something like this happened now the change of plans could be easily communicated through a simple text message. But when I was in 6th grade cell phones were just starting to be widely distributed, and I didn’t have one yet. So I stayed after school without telling a soul. It’s also important to know that I never did anything like this. I was a thoroughly responsible child, exactly where I was expected to be at the time I was expected to be there. You can imagine the shade that descended over my poor Mom-Mom’s heart when the bus pulled up to her house that day and she watched the doors swing open, then swing slowly closed, without her precious grandson exiting. Slamming shut, they sent an impossible sadness throughout her house and therefore her life as well. This set off a series of events that moved very quickly, all while I was sitting in the middle school auditorium waiting to read my lines. Mom-Mom called my mother and told her I didn’t get off the bus, and probably that she suspected someone snatched me and that I was more than likely dead. My mom, trying to remain calm, thought to herself that I just changed my mind about the play. She called the school to check. The ladies in the office told her they could call for me on the PA system and tell me to come to the office and they would call my mom back and tell her that I was all right. In many cases that would have been the end of it, but for reasons unknown, the PA system in the middle school couldn’t be heard in the auditorium, something both of the ladies in the front office were unaware of. So, when they called my mother back 20 minutes later with the news that I had not shown up, the assumption by all parties was that I was not in the school at all. This was when my mother began to panic. She quickly flapped her arms at her desk, something she does when scared. She called my dad, then Mom-Mom again, then the school again, then several friend’s houses where I could have been. When these searches turned up empty she called the school again and it was decided that all they could do was wait to see if I somehow turned up at The Five O’clock Busses, and if I did then Millie the bus driver, who knew both me and my Mom Mom, would make sure I got onto her bus and make a special one-time drop off at a road near Mom Mom’s house. If I didn’t show up at the busses I guess they would have called the police. As I got off the bus I saw Mom-Mom’s El Camino sitting on the shoulder up the road like a cop car on a stake out. When I got home later that night there was a newly purchased cell phone sitting on the kitchen table. . . . This was one of many events I lived through while I was younger but couldn’t fully understand until I was older. I needed distance before I could evaluate the true emotional recourse of the thing. What I immediately thought was a gross overreaction I now look back on and view as a reasonable response. Of course they were going to worry. I’m their only son. My mom still tells me to this day, “I don’t have a replacement.” Even when all signs pointed to a non-event, pointed to the likelihood that I was safe, when intense love is present, it makes perfect sense to be attracted to that worst thing, to losing that love. I believe that’s what my mom and dad and Mom-Mom experienced that day, and over time I’ve learned to love them back for it. . . . I don’t know much about life, but what I do know is that it’s something like a river. You may see different sizes, shapes, speeds, but what’s certain is that it’s always flowing forward. To resist is a temporary exercise. Water finds its way. What I have also learned about this river is that although a great distance may exist between points, it can look quite the same. The beginning can resemble the end, the end the beginning. What one experiences now is not the only time the river may break in that direction. It returns to itself. At least I think it might. This is what I mean. In 2015 my Mom decided to move to Spain for a month. She wasn’t feeling particularly happy with her job, or possibly even her life (she never said this explicitly), so in the evenings she would click through Airbnb listings in Barcelona. She would even click the heart buttons, relegating them to her “favorites” so she could go back later, look at the pictures of Spanish rooftops, and for a few moments imagine herself living in a foreign land, and by extension inside a life filled with slightly more adventure. An exercise like this is probably common inside of American homes. Perhaps your mom or dad is doing it right now. And it would have forever remained an exercise if my cousin and I weren’t living with my parents at the time. My cousin was taking nurse anesthetist classes at Penn, so Monday through Friday she would stay with us in the suburbs and commute into the city by train. She slept in my childhood bedroom with a floor to ceiling baseball mural on the wall. With Cait around we would sometimes get into the wine during the week if we were bored. One of these nights we all ended up in my mom’s office, cups in hand, ooh-ing and ah-ing over saved Airbnb pages. There was one we knew was her favorite because she had shown us before, it had the best reviews, and the host spoke English. A few moments later she had her credit card out and was asking us both if she should just do it, to which Cait and I responded with a resounding yes. So she clicked the button and just like that she had a flat for a month in downtown Barcelona. My father wasn’t present for the booking and didn’t find out until several weeks later, and even then not from my mom’s mouth but from a girl I was dating at the time. It’s not that my mom didn’t want him to know, it’s that she had never done something like this before. She was waiting for the appropriate time to break the news. Well, my father didn’t get mad because he is a sweet, sweet man. Instead he decided to support my mom’s leap of faith decision by joining her for a week of the trip. When that happened I decided to join too. How it happened was both my mom and her sister would fly over and stay for a week. This was a big deal for my mom. She had never been outside of the country except for her honeymoon in Mexico and one time to Canada, and those don’t really count. Even though she didn’t admit this to me until her sister had left and she was alone for a week, I knew my mother was scared. Making big changes when you’re older has got to be scary for most people. It’s probably because you’re not as dumb as you were when you were younger and therefore not as invincible. The second week my mother would be alone, and I would fly in for the third week. The fourth and final week my dad would come and we would all be together as a family. When my father arrived she arranged for a car to pick him up at the airport and drop him off in front of the apartment. It was the same driver who dropped her and her sister off on the first day of their trip. There was an elevator in the flat but it was old and small so he carried his luggage up the stairs. When he entered he was out of breath. Rooms are scaled differently in Europe. You can tell if you see it. It’s as if everything was measured with a different ruler, which I guess is true. These optics, coupled with his outfit, a nondescript athletic material shirt from Walmart, a blank hat, cheap sneakers, all made him seem like even more of a gigantic white person than he already was. Like Gandalf inside Bilbo Baggins’s house in The Shire. Sweat poured down his face as he unpacked his bags. When he was finally settled in my mom laid out some olives and cheese and we drank wine and talked about our trips. It was still early and I had a few places I wanted to see downtown. There was a café where Hemingway and other Ex-pats supposedly drank, some church with interesting origins. We decided to part ways. I would head out on my own while they finished unpacking. They would see a few things and we would all meet back at the apartment for a short siesta. So that’s what we did. A friend told me that everyone should travel by themselves at one point in their life, but I forget why he said everyone should do it. I remember the afternoon being extremely quiet in a city full of noise. I talked to no one. Soon enough the voices of the city began to fade. I felt light and detached, like when I would go sit in my car during my break and stare out into the brown grass moving carefully in the wind. After a beer and a long sit in an alley that I could never find again, I headed back to the flat. Honestly, I missed my parents here, even if it had only been a couple of hours. I had reached a period with my parents that would last for a while longer but not forever. Like two planets coming into view every night for a few days across a warm and cloudless August sky. This is a period I hope everyone gets to experience with their parents but I’m afraid too many seldom do. A time where you are no longer too young but they’re not yet too old. When you can drink together, make jokes together. When no one takes themselves too seriously. With this thought I bounded up three flights of stairs, heart fluttering in my chest, full of hope. I flung open the door and when I saw their faces it was this same hope that came crashing down.

She told me the story backwards, starting with the result: My father had been robbed. It happened right away. The entire afternoon while I was meandering narrow streets buzzed on pinkish wine, they had been dealing with crisis. After he unpacked they left the flat for the subway. They were going to the city center, possibly following the same route I had taken just one hour before. To get there you had to transfer lines at one of the busiest stations in the city. They boarded a car on the yellow line and were followed by a throbbing mass of bodies. Person after person squeezed into the car, bumping them, touching them, limiting the space in which they could not only stand but also even breathe. My mother was wise to the thieves of this city. She had all of her belongings inside of a zipped and clipped handbag lined with mesh steel. She could have used it to block a bullet. She had it tucked up into her armpit. Now, the extreme caution she took on her part she transferred to my father, but the focus fell on his physical well being instead of his belongings. As people smaller than him piled into the car, he stood there swaying like some giant who misplaced his mammoth. He looked at my mother and smiled. Hold on to something, she shouted, just before the train jerked forward. I’m sure she envisioned him toppling over as the car took motion. He was in the middle surrounded by bodies, so he grabbed onto the only thing he could, the ceiling rack above his head. The car rounded a soft curve. Bodies and limbs pressed against him like a lung. The car came to a stop, the doors opened, and the throng of people leaning against him (all small women, incidentally) filed out of the car. The doors closed and the subway continued. My father’s wallet, which had been held in a zipper pocket of his cargo shorts, was gone. He felt its absence as the car left the station. And that was that. My dad alerted my mom, who stood in shock as the last week of her trip exploded in her mind. They rushed not home but to the Barcelona Crowne Plaza. My dad had memorized its location before stepping foot onto the plane. He was a Holiday Inn rewards member, and inside a network hotel he felt more comfortable, he felt at home. Without acknowledging those working at the reception desk he marched directly to their business center where he used their phone and internet services to cancel his credit cards and place alerts on all of his accounts. He printed out pictures of sensitive documents he had emailed himself before the trip. On his way out he did acknowledge the staff, but only to ask them to call a cab for him and my mother who had been sitting quietly in the lobby, still very much in shock. They bought several bottles of wine next door before both trudging up the steps to the flat to drink and forget. To try their best to, anyway. This is how I found them. As they told me this story emotions grew inside of me. Not sorrow, not fear or panic. What grew was an overwhelming sense of frustration. Not in them, but in myself, at the thought that if I wasn’t off on my own, if I was just with them watching, this could have all been prevented. And as we sat there for a few more hours, as my mom and I poured glass after glass of wine, as dad moved from counter to couch and slowly fell asleep, whatever energy or forces that existed between the three of us changed. What I saw and felt were not two people who for 25 years existed as protectors. What I saw for the first time were vessels of some new responsibility. . . . My father recovered from the robbery and was able to enjoy the rest of the trip. I was extremely proud of him for this, another new emotion. Two days later they were off on their own again. We were to meet in a central plaza at two o’clock. At 10 minutes past they still hadn’t shown up. I began to sweat. I kept looking at my phone even though I had no service. Dreadful scenarios formed in my head. But as my mind raced I saw them turn the corner, smiling and holding hands. I told myself to relax. I told myself that they would be okay and I began to believe it. Would I continue to worry? Of course. But I knew it was an emotion I could learn to accept. On the second to last day of the trip I took the subway to the far north end of the city, the last stop on the purple line, and I went to the beach. I spent the day laying in the sand reading Charles Bukowski stories on my Kindle. A very old couple placed their bags next to mine. The woman put on a white swim cap and they waded into the shallow waves to perform calisthenics. I finished my book and when I looked up again the old man and the old woman were dancing hand in hand along the shore. There was no music, just the roar of the breakers slowly crashing at their feet. I looked at the couple and I thought that to worry was not so bad, because behind that worry were embers of love. As I looked down the beach I saw myself dancing, real slow, very old. And what I felt again was hope. Hope that one day, when my parents are gone, when my aunts and uncles are gone, there may just be some youngster sitting on some faraway beach, listening to the sounds of the same waves, worrying about me too.

#writing #childhood #travel

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