#saw someone say sometime that it was classist but.................. you literally just have to pay attention and remember

[meatheadmutt]

I WILL judge you on your spelling ability unless it is for The Laughs

[thealexchen]

i’ve actually read both of the articles that you mentioned earlier! I could see where both of them were coming from at varying points, though shannon liao’s struck me as a tad harsh, as someone who felt very seen by Alex, particularly with regard to her asian-american identity, and the cultural details and familial attitudes you see displayed throughout the game (especially in episode 5.) I could see why others would like them to be more overt, but they’re still present & relevant as is, imo.

I'm happy you read and enjoyed them! Well, since we’re on the subject, I might as well give my fuller thoughts about all this. This answer got horrendously long, so I'm putting it under a read more. I really wanted to talk about this more fully, so thank you for sending this ask!

I definitely see Robert's point in his article. Alex didn’t need to be Asian for the story of True Colors to be told, but it’s still meaningful that she is so that Asian fans and fans of color can look up to her and feel represented. The Chens buck a lot of stereotypes too: Mrs. Chen was not a “tiger mom” and her kids and husband remember her fondly. Mr. Chen doesn’t push Alex and Gabe to excel in school, and in fact neither Alex nor Gabe went to college, but they still had happy futures. Alex isn’t the best friend or the Asian schoolgirl or the dragon lady or the Asian nerd. But at the same time, when Robert says "Alex never really talks about her thoughts on Chinese culture,” that’s like— well, what’s wrong with talking about it? Why not talk about it more explicitly? The words “Asian” and “Chinese” and “Vietnamese” aren’t even used in the game when "gay" and "lesbian" were, and that's a little disappointing.

I figured people would figure out Alex was at least Chinese because of her last name, but I saw some streamers unsure of what Alex’s ethnicity even was (“Alex is… Chinese, right?”). That was disappointing because Asians tend to be treated as a monolith when we’re so internally diverse. Also, it’s completely possible to miss that Alex and Gabe are also half-Vietnamese. Their mother’s name is Giang “Wendy” Chen, a Vietnamese name, but that’s only in the credits. There’s far less Vietnamese (and Southeast Asian) rep than Chinese, so I wish that had been made more explicit.

In Life is Strange 2, Sean and Daniel’s struggles (personal and institutional) were centered around their identity as half-Mexican boys. True Colors almost seemed to be going in the opposite direction in that Alex’s Asian heritage never really becomes plot-relevant, but Alex and Gabe’s background comes into focus in the last chapter.

Part of Shannon’s critique was that because Alex’s parents aren’t in the picture, the game can’t explore Asian culture through a familial lens. There is some truth to that: for children of immigrants in particular, their parents are their strongest (and sometimes only) link to their race and culture. I thought a big missed opportunity was exploring Alex’s possible sense of isolation and struggle to reconnect with her Asian heritage after being separated from her family.

After growing up with two Asian parents, eating Asian food, celebrating Asian holidays, likely speaking Asian languages, etc. it would have likely been disorienting and lonely for Alex to suddenly be raised by non-Asian foster parents and lose all those traditions all at once. Possible comments like “I really miss Mom’s pho” or “Do you know how difficult it is to find hoisin sauce in the stores around here?” could have inferred more at that specific kind of loss and isolation in Haven Springs. The game touches upon this very briefly when you look at Gabe’s shrine, and Alex does comment “I don’t even know if I’m doing this right… but I felt like I had to do something.” In this way, I find it especially poignant that she still held onto cultural traditions after so long.

But I still thought Shannon’s critique was overly harsh. The little details really do add up, like in Alex’s childhood home, and meant a lot to me too. And most importantly, there was representation behind the scenes too: Alex was voiced by two(!) Asian American women and the lead writer, Felice Kuan, is Chinese. I think Alex naming her mouse Shu-shu was my favorite detail. Because it’s the one detail you can’t miss. Every streamer remembers Shu-Shu’s name and loves how cute she is and they can probably infer it’s a Chinese term. It just is so visible and empowering in that way and my heart felt warm every time I heard someone say “Aw! Shu-shu!"

But that doesn't mean Alex's Asian heritage didn't matter at all. I really appreciated that Alex's backstory still mattered because she came from a poor, working-class immigrant family. Her life circumstances were used for drama, but none of Alex's suffering was racially motivated and that felt tastefully done. I’m gonna paraphrase a comment I saw on alliebeemac’s playthrough of episode 5: "It's no coincidence that both Alex and Ryan lost their mothers at a young age, but because Ryan's father was a military veteran and had a high-paying job as a Typhon foreman, he got to keep his childhood whereas Alex's entire world was torn apart... And if you want to look at it even more metaphorically, the white patriarch Jed was able to preserve his own image as a hero and 'good old boy' of Haven by literally sacrificing an immigrant family to the mines with the expectation that nobody would come looking for them. Whether you're an immigrant or whether you're a foster child, the system is saying 'we don't care about you.'"

And at the end, Alex tells Jed, "You want to look away and pretend the men you hurt weren't people. But I won't let you.” It's a deliberate stand against Jed (a white man)’s dehumanization of poor laborers, including her Chinese immigrant father. Jed isn't explicitly portrayed as a racist, but his actions come from a privileged, and subsequently racist and classist place. For me, it worked better than LiS2's portrayal of racism because it was subtler and more personal. Alex stands up against Jed out of a personal sense of justice for her brother (and her father).

Do I wish we had more? Yeah, absolutely. I wish Alex got to actually speak Mandarin or Vietnamese in the game because that's so rare in games, even though I knew that would be unrealistic because Erika Mori is Japanese. I wish the character artists had at least made a version of Alex and Gabe’s models without shoes, because it just didn’t look right to see them wear shoes in the house (especially in bed??) and even LiS2 had Sean and Daniel in their socks in some scenes. I wish Alex and Gabe talked more about their family while Gabe was still alive and Alex could have had that comfort of someone who misses the food and customs they used to celebrate. But like I said, one piece of media isn’t gonna please everyone. And Asian representation in particular is so tricky because not only is there not enough of it, but Asian Americans are so diverse and come from so many different backgrounds. Children of immigrants are going to feel more connected to their Asian heritage than third or fourth gen kids or mixed race kids for example. Everyone is going to have a different definition of “Asian culture” and “accurate representation.”

But on a meta-level, it really means so much to simply have an Asian face on the box of a major Western game ❤️ Like even just seeing the way Alex's eyes crinkle when she smiles or how other characters find her attractive (like Steph’s note during the LARP preferring Alex’s natural black hair), it feels so affirming. It’s incredible to see an Asian girl be called the hero of her own story, to see her succeed and fail and cry and laugh and fall in love and kiss another woman and be comfortable in her bisexuality. It acknowledges that the queer community includes Asians, that Asian girls can also be curvy, that Asian girls can and do struggle with mental health. And like Erika Mori said, Alex is a fully-realized character and that’s what makes her so compelling, first and foremost. She also has a strong��moral compass and dreams and fears and is such an incredible role model for people of all backgrounds, and that’s what makes her identity as a queer woman of color so much more meaningful.

[sincerelybillie]

“oh, you must be so proud”

i pulled into the promenade towers’ parking garage, using the time until the parking attendant walked over to me, to engage in a staring contest with a  woman who very critically wondered what i was doing in her neck of the woods. she was sitting with a man at a table outside of the cafe of the shopping center that was connected to the complex. they were wearing matching tennis outfits. 

“if only she knew what her boyfriend was doing in the neck of my woods,” spoke Garnet, a specter that sometimes rides shotgun with me. i lost the staring contest by turning to look at her. 

“the guy sitting across from her?” i looked again to see that the woman had turned to him. she aggressively flipped her blonde hair over one shoulder and crossed her arms, as he retreated into his seat. Garnet nodded. i placed my forehead on the steering wheel. “fuck...”

when i sat back up, the parking attendant was smiling at me, asking with his eyes, “long day?” i greeted him, in a manner that a polite and normal person would. the gate lifted, i somehow crammed my large sports car into my narrow parking spot, and Garnet and i walked up to my studio. 

the leasing agent greeted us, me with a warm smile, and i noticed her with who i assumed to be a new tenant heading towards the same elevator as me. i decided then to take the stairs, but seeing as how i lived on the 14th floor and Garnet was already yanking me to the elevator, i inevitably ended up with the three of them. the tenant was a man about my height, who looked to be in his early 30′s but carried the sadness of someone who lived much longer and failed to fill it with things that made him happy. but whatever he spent that time doing, it afforded him this place. 

the leasing agent, Theresa, introduced us, and i wish she hadn’t. his name was Frank Gennaro, he was moving in today after living on the east coast his whole life, and he was single. Garnet perked up and looked at me, and i pretended not to notice her, which was important. because normal people weren’t supposed to notice her. 

as we ascended stories, i began to worry Frank was going to be occupying the vacant studio on my floor, the one i shared a wall with. 

Theresa does this thing where she likes to double as a matchmaker so her workday can involve something other than telling people about the unreasonable fees that make living here unattainable for the average american.

“if there’s anything i haven’t shown you or told you or answered questions about, i’m sure this wonderful lady here can help you,” Theresa said, rubbing my arm affectionately. i forced an uncomfortable smile, trying to make it look like the kind a wonderful lady would give someone. i got out first when the elevator dinged. i winced when i realized Theresa was, in fact, unlocking the apartment next door. i heard a whoosh sound and already knew Garnet was gone. the door locked behind them, and i sighed, entering my place.

i walked to the edge of my less-than-400 square foot studio and stepped into my solarium, watching the afternoon ubers and commuters and metro buses below. every time i’m up here, it feels like i’m levitating above the city. if i was more of a classist, it might actually make me feel like i’m better than everyone down there, better than the girl who was giving me death glare even though Garnet slept with her boyfriend and didn’t let me know. 

speaking of the devil, just a moment later, she phased through the wall and rushed up behind me, startling me. she laughed, knowing i had plenty of thoughts of the window somehow shattering and me plummeting to my death from the 14-story fall. i know Garnet had compulsive thoughts about pushing me, too. 

“he’s definitely single,” Garnet confirmed, not that i was curious. i checked my phone, noticing a missed call from my dad. he probably wanted me to meet some relatives for dinner in la habra, mention my degree or job or the things he can find it in his heart to be proud of me for. i texted him an apology and said i wasn’t feeling well. 

and it wasn’t a lie. i hadn’t been feeling well for awhile. Garnet had become tangible, started body snatching, and even killing people. i couldn’t really go anywhere without her, and it was hard to explain my current living situation without delving into the madness of it all. but maybe my dad could finally brag to people that i got into stanford, as long as he omitted it was the psychiatric hospital. 

it might also be hard to explain that my “savings account money” that allowed me to apply for the promenade without a guarantor was money Garnet phased into a federal bank for. and i, in true cliche scandal form, got the highest paying entry level job one could find in this industry, through blackmail via information that Garnet retrieved. and that since the new year began, i don’t remember the people i have slept with or that i have slept with them because Garnet only tells me weeks after it happens because she gets a twisted kick out of watching me bump into my, her hook ups. 

Garnet was a curse, but she got other people’s parents to tell my father, “oh, you must be so proud” in regards to me. so, in a way, i was indebted to her, even if i didn’t ask for or agree with the ways she showed up in my life. she was supportive and destructive at the same time, so it was hard to really figure out how i felt about her. the same can be said about many parents. 

that night, i decided to clear my head and go to the jacuzzi by the south tower because it was the less popular one and therefore the one where i could have more time and space to myself. it was only less popular because the Rich Old Business Men lived in many of the south tower condos, and most young tenants know not to go to their jacuzzi at night, lest we want an uncomfortable encounter with someone who is more than likely a registered Republican. 

i took my chances because i wanted to be alone and it was 1am on a tuesday night, so the Rich Old Business Men were probably too sleepy to sexually assault a neighbour. this was naive, and as if i wouldn’t already be forced to assume responsibility for the actions of a repulsive, entitled but ultimately powerful magnate...i would be actually a little at fault for what happened tonight. 

i don’t really wear bikinis out in public because it’s out of character and style for me. i typically dress like a 19 year old boy. a 19 year old boy interning at a late night talk show if i’m being business casual. when i do wear them, people come to the realization that i have long legs and tits, parts of me other people have always liked more than i ever got to. 

i sank into the jacuzzi’s bubbling water, needing my muscles to relax after a long day at work and dealing with the awkward aftermaths of anything Garnet had been a part of. but i would be lying if i said my body’s tension wasn’t partially caused by the fact that i saw the sliding doors of the fitness center open and a mysterious-looking man step outside. he began walking alongside the pool, towards me. i wanted to hide, like an alligator in swamp waters, only i felt less like the predator and more like the prey. i didn’t know if i would be able to do anything if the man was to suddenly join me in the hot tub, if i was already this scared from this far away. the offense was more Garnet’s speed. and the one time i think i actually needed her, she was nowhere to be found. 

the man came closer, and underneath the light, i finally saw that it was Frank. 

“hey,” he greeted. 

“hi,” i said, slowly lifting my body back up. i noticed his large gym bag, dangling from his right hand. in an attempt to move the conversation to its cordial end, i told him, “you know, everyone gets their own locker in the fitness center, so you don’t have to lug your gym stuff back and forth from your apartment.” i gestured back to the center. 

“i know,” he said, placing the bag down. my heart started racing to keep up with the thoughts rushing to my head, that something bad was about to happen to me. i noticed him staring at my chest, and if i retreated back into the water, he’d know he scared me. if i got out and ran, that only said it louder. he reached into his bag. 

“what are you -” i began to ask, but felt too paralyzed to finish because did i even want to know? was he actually going to tell me, “i’m just gonna reach into my bag and grab the thing i’m going to kill you with. i mean, look at me, i’m obviously too sad to care about the consequences. and your death might make me feel like i had control over something in my life.” no, he wasn’t going to say that.

i sat up abruptly, as he held a type of flashlight at me and pointed it at my chest. i flinched, blinded by the brightness and looked down, squinting at whatever he was pointing at.

there was a massive hole in my sternum. i looked up, horrified and confused. i began breathing heavily, scooting back into my corner of the jacuzzi and scrambling up and out of it. 

“what the fuck is that?! what did you do?!”

Frank turned the light off, placed it back in his bag, and pulled out a small cylindrical container i can only describe as something you’d see in Ghostbusters. it looked like the vacuum cartridge to suck ghosts into, which was fitting, because as Frank rotated the container, i saw a gaseous, flailing, inaudibly screaming Garnet inside. 

i looked up at Frank, reaching for my towel and my grip on reality, which was already a bit fuzzy, considering Garnet had been a part of it. and now, Ghost Hunter Frank was, too. he placed the container back in his bag and stood up. i did, too. this lighting really didn’t help his whole dark eye circles, pale skin and freckles combination situation. he looked, quite literally, like he had just seen a ghost.

“i can explain everything to you tomorrow. meet me at the cafe at 10,” he said, before walking away, with both a calmness and an exhaustion i have never seen.

i stood in my towel, calling after him, angry that he got to see me in two of the most vulnerable states i could be found in, “what the fuck am i supposed to do now?” 

he stopped and turned around. i tried to hold my anger, but i was definitely intimidated. 

“get some sleep. i imagine you haven’t been able to do that for awhile now.” 

Garnet orchestrated some intense dreams and messed with the thermostat in the middle of the night enough times for me to easily agree that Frank’s statement was true. i haven’t slept properly in ages. but it was the first time in awhile that i was going to go to bed without her presence. 

and ironically, the thought of her absence and what i just saw and questions about Frank had kept me up all night. i rolled over in bed all night, occasionally glancing at the solarium, seeing more lights turn off in the apartment buildings across the street. i watched the sun come up. 

when 10am rolled around, so did i, turning the corner to the cafe when and where we said we would meet. Garnet still apparently haunted me because i walked right into the chest of that blonde woman’s boyfriend. 

“hey!” he said, annoyed at first and then adjusting his facial expression when he noticed it was me. “hey...” he said again, and then once more when he asked if we could talk. 

“i can’t, i’m actually meeting someone,” i said, conveniently being able to gesture at Frank, who was watching us from the same table the matching tennis outfit couple had been at just yesterday. 

he looked back at Frank and chuckled resentfully when he turned to face me again. “yeah? and you’re gonna fuck around with him, too?” he asked, his demeanor suddenly shifting back to irritation. i paused.

what the fuck. he was just as guilty as, if not more than, me, Garnet for cheating on his girlfriend. i didn’t know who he was, much less that he had an uppity, classist, racist girlfriend who thinks every person of colour at the promenade is “the help” and treats the actual staff at the complex even worse. 

from what i’ve seen, she was a bad emotional investment to begin with and if he wanted to be with someone else (or just not her), he should have had the decency to break up with her. Garnet might’ve known he wasn’t single, but i wasn’t responsible for his relationship. or Garnet. and that was especially true because she was locked away in a goddamn vacuum sealed container and i was still processing that. 

so, “fuck you, man”, i said, and walked over to Frank. 

annoyed by the double standards of my previous male encounter, my hostile energy translated to my interaction with Frank. “where’s Garnet?” i asked with tautness, suddenly feeling protective of her. so what if she was selfish, reckless, and mean? she was still a person. or at least, she was once. right? what are the laws or ethics around holding captive someone who disobeys the laws of physics...

“she’s still where she was the last time you saw her,” he said. “do you want coffee?”

he was speaking so calmly. like, this was casual conversation had between endearing neighbours. “i need answers,” i said, growing agitated. “what was that last night?” 

the boyfriend walked past as i asked that and i felt his rays of slut-shaming shooting at me. and speaking of rays, there was that light Frank had shined on me that looked like i got vaporized. “and now, there’s a giant fucking hole in my chest?”

“that’s what happens when you fuck around with people who are taken,” muttered the blonde woman, who had apparently been meeting up with her man just one table over. no matching outfits this time. 

“eavesdropping? really? are either of you capable of actually focusing on your own relationship?” i snapped.

“hey,” Frank whispered, trying to lasso my attention and temper. 

“what was your plan just two minutes ago?” i asked the boyfriend. “to chat with me real quick about how you can’t stop thinking about that night before patching things up with your girlfriend who, by the way, has a lot of misdirected rage?” they didn’t say anything, and i turned back to face Frank, who was looking down, either embarrassed for me or by me. 

“oh, shut up,” i told him. he shook his head. 

“i didn’t say anything.”

“you’re not saying anything helpful at all,” i argued.

“that’s because you barely let me get a word in,” he said, sternly. i exhaled. 

“i didn’t do anything. all of the bad shit that gets associated with me, the guy and his girlfriend and the whole fucking around thing. that wasn’t me. it was Garnet, and -” 

“i know. i know it’s not you, but it’s...kind of you.” he cleared his throat, lowering his voice. “i know you might think Garnet is just some ghost who picked you for some reason to be the subject or vehicle of all of her mayhem, but she’s more than that.”

“what do you mean?” 

“she’s a manifestation of every negative thought you’ve had, every impulse you wanted to act on. it’s really rare for them to have real-life consequences of this magnitude, much less actually appear in tangible or intangible form whenever they want. but that’s where i come in.”  

“...as a ghostbuster?” 

“as an exterminator. think of Garnet as an infestation of bad thoughts. she’s a part of you, but a part of you that has gotten stronger with your built up resentment or anger. you have to remove her, like a tumor before she eventually kills the host and takes over completely. like, when termites start weakening the foundation of a home -”

“i get the metaphor,” i interrupted, taken aback by the information and how quickly and how much Frank suddenly started talking. 

“but that’s what the hole is; the stronger she gets, the closer she becomes to having a permanent physical form, while you start dissolving.” 

i sat back, exhaling deeply. after a moment, i asked, “so, you really moved in next to me just to to catch her? how did you know she was here?” 

“actually, that was a wild coincidence. i retired and moved out here as a getaway, maybe do freelance engineering work, but i forgot i didn’t uninstall the software on my watch that detects paranormal energy. when you got in the elevator, i had gotten an alert. and then i got another one when Theresa was in my apartment.”

“i think the most unbelievable part of that story is that anyone could possibly retire in their 30′s...” 

“i’m 47,” he corrected me. “but thank you.”  

“being able to retire at 47 is still unrealistic,” i said, diverting my own attention from his appearance and accidentally flattering it.

“i was the only one doing this work in my area for a long time, so the demand got kind of crazy and when you’re the best bet to call every single time -”

 "you must be so proud,” i teased at his humble-brag, attempting to stifle my own heightening panic. Frank sighed as well, sounding a different kind of exhausted. “so, why didn’t you think Theresa was the source of the paranormal whatever, if your watch beeped whenever you were around her?” i asked. 

“if it was Theresa, then she’s the physical manifestation of kindness and hospitality. i mean, if there’s a ghost running around helping people...i don’t feel the need to intervene. Garnet’s energy was volatile...dangerous. if you let her get any worse, she could do some serious damage.”

i wanted to defend myself and say i wasn’t “letting” her do anything, but she had shoved a man off a cliff this past summer and when the local news station reported it as a whitewater rafting accident, she was laughing at the tv screen. like she was proud of herself for getting away with it and mocking the reporters for not being as smart as her. and i didn’t even scold her. i wanted to believe that maybe the guy was awful in his own way, so the scales were balanced. and maybe that reaction made me just as horrible as Garnet. Garnet had been an out-of-control beast of a child that i didn’t even try to discipline because a part of me felt like everything she did was sort of justified. if she came from me, from the worst parts of me, that were angry and hurt, i understood her. and in a way, i was grieving the loss of her. i had even been a little jealous of her for getting to exist on her own terms. she got to act on everything that she felt in ways i couldn’t and didn’t. 

i wanted to see her as a robin hood, but maybe i was idealizing a monster because it was easier than actually growing up and being accountable for my own responses to all the pain in my life. 

Frank caught me deep in thought, puncturing the space between us with a “are you going to be okay?” 

“i don’t know,” i said after a moment. and it might have been the most honest thing i had said in years. 

TEN YEARS LATER

Faith’s kindergarten teacher opens the door at dismissal, and kids shuffle over to their parents and/or guardians. mine toddles over with her unicorn backpack, face full of freckles, and bouncy curls. she’s the most precious thing i’ve ever seen in my entire life, and i feel this way every time i look at her. just before i hold my hand out to grab hers, her teacher turns to me. 

“oh, Mrs. Gennaro!” she chirps, and i match her energy. 

“hiiiii,” i respond. 

“i just wanted to say you know, that Faith was such a great helper today! i really appreciate how eager she is to make sure the classroom is organized.”

“oh, well, that’s great to hear,” i laugh. “she’s really meticulous about things being in order at home, too, actually. makes life a lot easier for me.” her teacher’s smile dissolved slightly.

“oh, you must be so proud. and well, i actually wanted to discuss that a little more with you if you ever have time.” 

“what do you mean? is something wrong?” i asked. the teacher was intermittently saying goodbye to other students and the people picking them up while trying to pacify my increasing impatience. finally, when they all left (and by now, Faith was waiting for me at the swings), the teacher looked at me with the concern only an educator who is about to suggest counseling possesses. 

“Faith’s attention to detail is definitely a strong suit, but she is exhibiting behaviour that can be symptomatic of obsessive compulsive disorder,” she told me.

“you’re saying my kid has OCD?” i asked, crossing my arms at her bold suggestion. “just because a five year old is more organized than most adults does not mean something’s going on with her head and we can start throwing around psychological evaluations.” 

“i’m not diagnosing her by any means, but i do double as the school’s therapist and i do know the signs. she is very particular about the way she wants things placed or the order art materials and books are in. she counts the steps from the playground to her carpet square. and if it’s not to her liking, she lashes out or repeats things and moves things around. and if someone gets in her way or rushes her, she has started screaming at them. i’m worried it will impact her ability to be around other students and focus in class.” 

most kids want things done their way and will throw a fit every now and then, nobody’s perfect. i didn’t spoil her and nobody yelled in our household, so wherever she picked it up was either A. from some other child at the school who figured out screaming equals appeasement served up by weak and/or tired adults or B. it was normal childlike behaviour that shouldn’t be read into so much.

as i was thinking this, i looked again at Faith while she swung on the swingset, kicking her feet up in the air and giggling, alongside another girl. i hadn’t noticed the other student before, but she looked remarkably familiar. Faith waved at me, and i waved back smiling. the other girl joined, continuing to wave even after Faith put her hand down. 

“well, she seems to be getting along just fine with her friend,” i noted. the teacher looked over to the playground and back at me, puzzled by my statement. i followed her eyes and saw Faith swinging alone. 

“nevertheless, call me if you’d ever like to discuss how we can both best support her in class,” her teacher offered, probably deciding i needed counseling, too, or something more intensive. i called Faith over, and as we headed to the car, my heart dropped. 

“i call shotgun,” spoke Garnet, already sitting in the front passenger seat. behind her, in a levitating booster seat was the girl i had seen swinging next to Faith just moments ago. 

i pulled out my phone to call Frank, but my hands were trembling. i dropped my phone because i was shaking so hard. Faith picked it up.

“there’s lots of calls from Daddy,” she told me. i looked at my phone and saw four missed calls and about a bunch of text messages. 

“Call me back, EMERGENCY”

“Storage unit got broken into, someone has the container” 

“CALL ME BACK”

“DO NOT COME HOME, MEET ME AT MY OFFICE WHEN YOU PICK UP FAITH”

“ARE YOU OKAY? DO YOU HAVE FAITH?”

“COME TO MY OFFICE ASAP”

Garnet smirked at me as i read Frank’s texts. “well? do you have faith?” she asked, and i could see her holding her in her corny laughter. time (and the vacuum sealed container) hadn’t been kind to her. her makeup was smudged, her lips were chapped, and she had lost a lot of (metaphysical) weight. 

“Mommy?” Faith asked, as i stared into the backseat of the car. the other girl had started inaudibly screaming from inside, bashing her head against the window and swinging her hands around violently, her tiny fists thudding against the glass. i gasped, stepping back and felt Faith tugging on my shirt, getting scared as well. “who is that?”

“you can see them?” i asked. 

“that girl’s in my class. and that’s her mom. she said she was your old friend.” i swallowed the knot in my throat. “are we giving them a ride?” 

“no,” i answered. 

“why is she acting like that?” Faith asked, as the other girl only got more violent, rabid almost. 

“i don’t know. we need to get to your father.” 

Garnet appeared next to me, holding the hand of her own daughter, who had suddenly calmed down. 

“race you there,” she challenged. “your kid seems smart.” i looked down at Faith, gripping her hand tighter and making sure she was still there, still mine, still safe. “you must be so proud,” Garnet whispered before disappearing.