#started this in like. mid july. god i hate summer i never finish anything in a timley manner

[lunamothghost]

dawn / mid-day / dusk

[jjmaybanksbaby]

Where It Leads (Rafe Cameron)

Summer II

Part 03: Been A While

series masterlist | previous part

summary: Your second summer in the Outer Banks becomes a whole lot more complicated when you realize a year away from Rafe hasn't changed your feelings for him at all.

a/n: And we're back with summer two - the summer before sophomore year whoop whoop! Writing this gave me butterflies so I hope you have the same feeling reading it! I always love hearing y’all’s commentary so don't be shy to scream about your favorite parts back at me.

word count: 2.5k words

Your mom reached over and tapped you gently on the arm.

"Put your phone away please, y/n. You can text Evan when we land."

"We're not even moving yet." You replied.

As if on cue, the pilot's voice echoed over the intercom. "Good morning passengers. This is your captain speaking. Welcome onboard Flight 4B7 with service from Portland to the Outer Banks. We ask that you please fasten your seatbelts at this time and secure all baggage..."

You stashed your phone in the pocket of the seat in front of you and closed your eyes, hoping that by the time you woke up you would be landing.

After the way last summer had gone, you were surprised when your mom announced that you were spending the summer in the Outer Banks again.

Frankly, you weren't that happy to be headed to North Carolina. Alice and Kensie, your two best friends back home, had opted not to go to camp this summer so the three of you had planned to spend every day at Alice's pool, biking to the Dairy Queen a few blocks away or begging of your moms to drive you to the mall.

Plus, there was Evan. Your boyfriend of six months. You'd both been cast as the understudies for the leads in the fall musical. Because of some freak food-poisoning accident, both you and Evan had to go on as Cinderella and Prince Charming in the final show. When he kissed you under the bright stage lights, it had felt like more than just a stage kiss. He'd asked you out at the cast party later than night and you'd been dating ever since.

Evan was great. He really was. He was thoughtful and cared about you. But ever since your mom had bought the plane tickets to the Outer Banks back in March, every time you kissed Evan you could only think of Rafe Cameron.

☼☼☼

You trailed behind your mother on the way to baggage claim, bent over your phone responding to the texts Alice and Kensie had sent in the group chat while you'd been in the air. Apparently, they'd bumped into Kensie's crush and need to analyze every detail. A feeling of jealously you hadn't anticipated crept into your chest, weighing you down. Even indoors, the muggy heat of the Outer Banks made it clear how far from Oregan - and from your people - you were.

You looked around the airport, searching for the baggage claim with your flight number and noticed an incredibly familiar head of blonde head of hair standing nearby.

"Sarah Cameron?" You asked.

Sarah spun around a joyful smile on her face. "Oh my god! Y/n!" She ran over, wrapping you in a hug. "Are you back for the summer?"

You nodded your head which elicited another excited scream from her.

"What are you doing at the airport?" You asked her.

"You'll never guess! We're getting a house in the Bahamas!" She gushed.

"Sarah!" A deep voice called. You looked up to see another older-looking version of Rafe headed in your direction.

Your mom froze beside you. "Oh dear," she whispered.

The man's gaze didn't leave your mom. "Heather," he said.

"Ward," she responded.

Oh, you thought. So that's Rafe's dad.

"It's good to see you," your mom continued. "You look," she paused for moment, "good."

"You as well," Ward responded.

The carousel behind you started to move and luggage streamed out.

"That's us," your mom said, pointing over to the moving carousel. "We should go."

"I'll tell Rafe you're back," Sarah whispered to you. "He's gonna be so excited."

You smiled down at her knowing that you'd already made a vow to yourself to avoid him all summer. You refused to let Rafe ruin what you and Evan had and the only way you could guarantee that was making sure you didn't see him at all.

☼☼☼

Sarah bounded in the front door of the Cameron's house. "We're home" she called out, her sing-songy voice echoing through the big house. Ward entered after her, carrying their luggage.

"Welcome home," Rose said, greeting Ward at the door with a kiss.

Sarah rolled her eyes at the exchange. It wasn't that she actively hated her step-mom, she would just have rather her dad not married her. Though he was buying her a house in the Bahamas as an anniversary present so maybe she wasn't all bad.

"Is Rafe upstairs?" Sarah asked.

"I think so," Rose replied.

Sarah ran up the stairs, skipping every other one, the way Ward always told her not to do. She came to a sudden stop in front of Rafe's closed door.

"Rafeeeeee," she yelled, knocking rapidly until his voice bellowed back at her through the wall.

"What do you want Sarah? Go away!" He yelled.

"Fine," Sarah said. "I guess you don't care that y/n is back in town then?"

The door swung open just a few seconds later. “What did you say?” Rafe asked.

“Y/n was at the airport. She’s back in the Outer Banks for the summer.” Sarah turned on her heel and sashayed her way to her own bedroom leaving Rafe in his doorway to process the information.

Maybe this summer will be a whole less boring, Rafe thought.

☼☼☼

The summer was going exactly how you'd expected. It was surprisingly nice to have your younger brother to keep you company and more importantly, keep you busy. You spend your days either on the beach, tanning, watching your brother splash in the waves, and making your way through the reading list of the Honors English class you had opted to take next year or at the Club's pool, eating chicken tenders for lunch and washing them down with the thick chocolate milkshakes.

Rafe's friends frequently made an appearance at the Club. You watched them sneak vodka from flaskes into cups of spirit from being your shaded sunglasses. So far, Rafe had yet to join them.

Currently, Phoebe was flirting hardcore with Sawyer, begging him to put sunscreen on her back so she wouldn't burn. It was all too predictable.

You turned your attention back to Nick Carraway and his descriptions of Gatsby's grand parties momentarily.

You heard Sarah's voice before she appeared next to you and plopped down on the chair your brother had been occupying before he decided he needed more ketchup for his fries and had ran off.

"Y/n," she started with the same youthful energy she always talked with, "has Rafe invited you to our Fourth of July party yet?"

"Umm," you hesitated. "No, he hasn't said anything about it."

"Ugh," Sarah threw her head back in a dramatic motion. "I told him to text you about it. He's useless. Anyway, we throw a huge party for the Fourth every year and you have to come. There are fireworks and everything..."

Sarah's monologue faded to the background as you looked up and noticed Rafe standing at the top of the steps that lead down the pool. Your stomach flopped in the same way it always did when you saw him.

Rafe started walking down the steps and a small panic set in. His own eyes wandered across the pool deck and it was only time before he recognized you. You shifted your body slightly, trying to use Sarah to block yourself from his view.

You turned your attention back to his younger sister, afraid that you'd accidentally make eye contact with Rafe.

Crap, crap crap, you repeated in your head. Rafe was for sure heading in your direction. Even as you forced yourself to focus on Sarah, you couldn't stop yourself from watching Rafe out of the corner of your eye and he was walking straight toward you. Your 'avoid-Rafe-all-summer' plan was going to be impossible now. With every step he took, you could feel your heart beating faster. It felt just like last summer.

Rafe stopped in front of the chair Sarah was sitting in and you couldn't stop yourself from looking up at him, a smile threaten to slide onto your face. The same warm but dangerous feeling you only got when Rafe was around took ahold of you.

"Sarah," he said, cutting her off mid-sentence. "Ward's looking for you."

She jumped up with a sudden spurt of energy, "Okay, I'll go find him!" She leaned down engulfing you in another hug. "See you around y/n." She said before running off.

"Bye Sarah." You replied.

"You know, you're like my sister's favorite person," Rafe said, still standing above you. "She mentioned you were in-town for the summer..." He let his sentence trail off.

But I hadn't seen you around. You finished for him in your head.

"Yeah, we got in about a week ago." You said. The tension that hung in the air between the two of you was exactly the reason you were trying to avoid him. The last time you had seen him he'd kissed you in a way you hadn't been able to get out your head for months afterward. It was a dangerous game. Nonetheless, here he was standing in front of you and you were barely holding it together.

Your phone began to ring and the photo of Evan kissing your check from homecoming popped up with the caller id. Rafe's eyes glanced over it and an unreadable expression crossed his face.

Right, it was 4 o'clock on Wednesday. The time and day you and Evan had decided you would call each other every week.

"Uhh, I gotta get this." You said to Rafe, reaching over and picking up the phone.

"Yeah, okay. See you later y/n." He replied before walking away from you and to his friends.

Your eyes followed him all the way even as you clicked answered and Evan's voice filled your ear.

☼☼☼

A feeling of nervousness set in as you approached the Cameron's, the absurd number of cars parked outside confirming you were at the right place. You glanced over each of your shoulders worried that your mom would pull up any second to drag you back home after you lied about where you were spending your evening. You felt decently bad about saying you were going to the Club to watch fireworks and coming to the Cameron's instead but you knew your family's stance on Rafe and his dad.

It seemed like the entire population of the Outer Banks was spread across the Cameron's backyard. Adults sipped festive cocktails as little kids, hyped-up onto much sugar, weaved in between their legs, chasing one another around. You looked around hesitantly, thankful when Sarah emerged from the crowd, frosting smeared across her face.

"You made it! I'm so happy you're here!" She screamed.

"Sarah," you laughed. "You have blue frosting all over you." You used your finger to wipe it from her cheek.

"Rose ordered the most delicious cake you've ever had. You have to try it. I can get you some. Do you want some?" She asked eagerly.

"I'm okay right now. Thank you though. Have you seen Rafe?" You asked. You were at his party, after all, it wasn't like there was any point in avoiding him now.

Sarah turned and pointed to the dock where Rafe and his group of friends were standing. "He's over there."

"Great. Okay! I'm going to go say hi."

"Have fun!" Sarah replied with a smile before running off in the same direction she's appeared in.

You made your way through the crowd to the dock, the groups' attention turning to you as you approached.

"Hey," you said, shyly.

Cleo and Riley jumped up from where they had been sitting with their legs dangling in the water.

"Y/n, right?" Cleo asked before leaning in for a hug.

"Yeah. Hi! It's good to see you guys again." You replied.

"You too! Rafe said you were back in town and I was wondering when you'd finally make an appearance." Cleo said.

You look over at Rafe to find him already watching you. He pushed through Cole and Milo and was suddenly in front of you

"Um, y/n and I need to get the fireworks." He said to the group. You watched Riley shoot Cleo a confused look but Cleo just shrugged it off.

Rafe grabbed your hand and pulled you along, leaving you no choice but to follow him. You walked in silence, other than the sound of your heart beating rapidly.

Rafe stopped at a small brick shed on the side of the house. He pushed the door open and stepped inside, pulling you in after. There were kayaks and paddleboards hanging on the walls and some old lifejackets littered the floor.

"Rafe-" you tried to start but he cut you off.

"Y/n, I seriously can't go one more minute without kissing you again."

Rafe looped his arm around your waist, cupped the back of your neck with his hand, and landed his lips on yours.

For a moment, you tilted your face upwards and leaned your body into his before your senses came rushing back to you and you shoved him backwards off of you. Surprise registered on his face.

"Rafe. No. I can't do this." Your voice broke, panic coursed through your whole body. "God, I shouldn't be here. I shouldn't have come here today or followed you here."

"Y/n." Rafe said but held your hand up warning him to say quiet.

"I have to go. I have to go," you repeated. "Tell Sarah I'm sorry I missed the fireworks. I know she'll be disappointed. I have to go."

You turned to leave but Rafe grabbed your wrist and his eyes locked with yours, his expression begging you to stay.

"I have a boyfriend." You blurted out. The weight of those four words settled on Rafe's face and you jerked your arm out of his grasp. You spun on your heel and walked out the shed and putting distance between you and the boy making your life so complicated.

You crossed the Cameron's yard, trying to gather yourself and slow your chaotic, unsteady breathing. You hurried down the long driveway, making it to the road without any tears slipping out of your eyes.

Rafe had tried to kiss you. He hadn't tried, he had kissed you. And you sorta kissed him back. No, not sorta. You kissed him back. But then you stopped. You pushed him away. You realized it was wrong. You didn't want to hurt Evan. You weren't gonna hurt Evan.

The fireworks began to explode behind you, large booms thundered across the sky, their big colors illuminating the night. You didn't dare turn around watch them. They reminded you too much of Rafe: the boy pulling your head and your heart in two different directions.

taglist! @oreoenthusiast13 [drop a ☀️ in my inbox or messages if you want to be added]

[everywhereallofthetime]

Some Girl ... Part 6

Word Count: 1.6k

Warnings: None, really. A few cuss words?

// * // * //

Sunday / July 18th

The next morning, after Sebastian nursed, Elisa took him, telling Charlotte to go back to sleep for a while. When Charlotte woke again, a couple of hours later, she crawled into the shower, replaying in her mind and in her heart everything that had happened the day before.

She wondered if- when, she corrected, Shawn would call.

As she was walking downstairs, she heard it before she saw it. In Wonder. Elisa, with Sebastian on her lap, Jack, and Mason were all parked in front of the television watching Shawn’s documentary.

“Do you have something you want to tell me?” Mason asked between mouthfuls of cereal.

Charlotte plopped down beside him on the couch, almost making him spill his bowl. “Peter’s name is actually Shawn?”

She looked over at Elisa, who handed Sebastian to her. Elisa then shrugged her shoulders and stated, “You said you both wanted everyone to know the truth. And sooner is better than later, right? Especially if you plan to bring him around more often.”

“My mind is a little blown here, Charlie,” Mason said. “Why didn’t you just say, ‘hey everyone, this is my boyfriend, Shawn’?” he asked, slightly perplexed.

“Because he’s not my boyfriend!” she exclaimed.

“I told you,” Elisa said, dryly.

“We’re just friends, no matter how you may have perceived things.”

Mason chose to keep certain further thoughts to himself, at least for the time being, and asked again, “All right then, why didn’t you just introduce him as a friend of yours? I guess I can understand why you introduced him as Peter, but why Bash’s dad? Shit. He’s not actually Bash’s dad, is he??”

“No,” she chuckled. “He is most definitely not Bash’s dad.” She then sighed softly. “You’ve been watching the documentary. It looks like you’ve passed the heavily centric Camila part. They broke up less than four months ago. Yesterday was a bad day. All he wanted was to forget for a little while and be around people who didn't know him so he could try to feel normal again. I didn’t actually mean to introduce him as Bash’s dad. That was just...an accident.”

“Or wishful thinking.”

“Shut up, Mason,” she grumbled, feeling her cheeks grow hot. She shot a glance at Elisa. “I’m fine.” She needed everyone to stop thinking she was in love with Shawn.

“You’re very quiet, Uncle Jack,” she said then.

“I already told him everything,” Elisa said.

That didn’t surprise her. As far as she was aware, Elisa and Jack had never kept secrets from one another. “I’m sorry I lied you,” she said to her uncle. She then glanced at Mason again. “All of you.”

Jack smiled softly and reached over to pat her knee. “You’re forgiven, Sweetheart, don’t worry about it. I understand. Just maybe don’t lie to us again?”

“I promise. For what it’s worth, aside from introducing him as Peter, which is actually his middle name, and pretending he was Bash’s dad, Shawn was his honest self. He truly is that lovely and kind. He has an amazing heart.”

“You let him know he’s welcome here anytime,” Jack said, and Elisa nodded in agreement.

Mason laughed. “I can't believe Shawn Mendes was in our fucking house!”

“Yes, and he enjoyed dinner with us. He spent time with our family. He let his guard down and he laughed with us.” There was an edge creeping into her voice. “He pretty much put Bash to bed. You lent him your shorts after he swam with us. You played darts and poker with him. You got drunk with him and he even helped your ass to bed!” Charlotte was agitated, causing Sebastian to get upset, too. She calmed her voice and hugged her son to her, soothing his back. “He's just Shawn,” she whispered, standing with Sebastian, and quickly left the room.

Mason followed after her, into the kitchen. No one had expected her to have a mini meltdown. Even she was surprised at herself.

"I'm sorry, Char. You're right.” He quickly rinsed his bowl and spoon and put them in the dishwasher. He turned and leaned up against it and the countertop. When Charlotte actually looked at him again, he said, “I shouldn't let who he is change anything from last night."

“You just proved why he was too nervous to tell you the truth, as badly as he wanted to. He was feeling awful about lying to everyone.”

“You like him a lot, eh?”

“Don't you start too,” she groaned, giving Sebastian over to Mason so she could fix herself something to eat.

Mason gently tossed Sebastian into the air and then blew raspberries into his neck. “I know, I know. You’re just friends. But you kissed him, and he kissed you back. And you guys were like, really close almost all night.”

“I swear, this is the exact conversation I had with Mom and Didi last night.”

“Are you sure-”

She cut him off quickly. “Stop.”

“But-”

“Nope.”

“Has he had his rebound yet?”

“I don’t know,” she huffed, slightly exasperated. “He doesn’t talk to me the same way as he might his guys friends. He’s too polite to tell me how many women he may have nailed after Camila broke his heart. I don’t think I’d want to know anyway.”

Charlotte sat down at the kitchen island. “I don’t plan on being a rebound either, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

Mason buckled Sebastian into his Bumbo and started mixing his oatmeal. “I’m not worried. He promised me he wouldn’t hurt you. He promised he would never do anything to make me hate him.”

“What?” She paused, mid-bite of her peanut butter and banana English muffin. “When were those promises made?”

“When he helped my ass to bed,” he chuckled. “I weirdly, vividly remember that part of the night. He cares about you. He’s a good guy.”

Charlotte fell into her own thoughts while she continued eating.

“How did you even meet him?” Mason asked, drawing her attention again. He slid a spoonful of cereal into Sebastian’s mouth.

She didn't exactly answer. Instead she said, “He lives downtown, like one kilo from my place.” She would let him draw his own conclusions.

“I have to tell Josh and Dougie and Rob.”

“If Didi hasn't already told everyone...

“Please don’t make a big deal out of it. I actually would like to bring him around again. Josh, Dougie, and Rob are common fixtures around here in the summertime. There are six weeks of summer left. I need them to be cool with him.”

“They’ll be fine. It’s Val and the twins you have to worry about.”

“Ugh, I know,” she groaned.

“They’re totally going to want to hang out with you now," he smirked.

// * // * //

Charlotte lingered in the archway between the kitchen and family room, Sebastian on her hip, Mason at her side for support.

Elisa paused the documentary; Charlotte noticed they had almost finished it.

“Shawn’s concert on Netflix is from his sold out show at the Rogers Centre two years ago. You might like to watch that sometime. I was there, with Val and the twins actually, - it was probably the last time we did anything together.

“Anyway...

“Bash just finished his cereal. I’m going to nurse him a little and see if he’ll go down for a nap. And I thought I’d run a load of laundry while he sleeps, before we head home.”

“Okay honey,” Elisa said.

She shifted from one foot to the other. “I also thought maybe it might be time that I tell you about Booker. Bash’s real dad.”

If they were surprised, they didn't show it. Jack just nodded.

Charlotte started towards the stairs. Mason called after her, “By the way, I threw Shawn’s shorts and boxers in your laundry.”

She blushed bright red.

“What?? I thought he was your boyfriend!”

// * // * //

Shawn strolled into the kitchen late Sunday morning, singing to himself. Nothing in particular, just a few runs like he normally did when he was warming up his voice. His younger sister, Aaliyah, almost eighteen and starting college in the fall, was sitting on top of the kitchen island, her phone in hand, texting her boyfriend.

She looked up, surprised, suddenly overwhelmed that her big brother was smiling and singing. She never imagined how much she would have missed hearing his voice until it had been absent for too long.

He wrapped his arms around her and gave her a big hug. “Morning bub,” he murmured. He then opened the fridge and drank the orange juice right out of the carton. He grabbed a muffin and jumped up to sit beside her on the island countertop.

“You seem happy,” she said softly, grinning fiercely, tears in her eyes. She quickly wiped them away.

“I had a good night,” he grinned back and kissed her temple.

“You just disappeared yesterday; we were worried. And then you didn’t get home until well after one. Were you out with Matt?”

“I was not. I made some new friends.”

“That’s not some weird code for-”

“Bub!” he shouted. “No! Oh my God!”

“You always tell me I can say anything to you,” she laughed.

“I know, but you don’t always have to remind me how grown up you are.”

She wrapped her arm around his waist and he hugged her around the shoulders.

“I’m going to go for a run with Tarzan. I’ll be back before lunch,” he said, shoving the last of his muffin in his mouth, jumping off the counter, and slipping his AirPods into his ears. “Love you!” he called over his shoulder as he jogged off.

// * // * //

Part 7

[uomo-accattivante]

This is a great article about how The Card Counter managed to finish principal photography after getting shut down mid-March due to COVID-19.

Also, it includes this interesting description from Paul Schrader about Oscar Isaac’s character, William Tell -- “So now I have a character and he’s in his room, he’s alone. And he has a mask on. And the mask he wears is a professional poker player. And the problem that runs alongside him is that he is a former torturer for the U.S. government. So it’s a mix of the World Series of Poker and Abu Ghraib.”

Having somehow weathered his way from enfant terrible to wizened survivor, Paul Schrader is a filmmaker who is simply not finished yet. Every time it might seem his career is on the wane, he resets, revitalizes and comes back again.

Just a few years after his 2014 film “Dying of the Light” starring Nicolas Cage was taken away from him by financiers — leading Schrader to disavow the movie — he received his first Oscar nomination (for original screenplay) after directing “First Reformed,” which was released in 2018 and starred Ethan Hawke as a troubled small-town minister.

Schrader’s work is marked by emotional intensity, intellectual vitality and an aesthete’s appreciation of style. His filmography is full of unusual corners that are still being discovered. The 1979 film “Old Boyfriends,” directed by Joan Tewkesbury with a screenplay by Schrader and his brother Leonard, was recently rereleased on home video. As was the 1990 film “The Comfort of Strangers,” directed by Schrader from a screenplay by Harold Pinter.

He’s been directing films from his own scripts since 1978’s “Blue Collar” starring Richard Pryor, Harvey Keitel and Yaphet Kotto. He went on to write and direct such films as “Hardcore,” “American Gigolo,” “Mishima: A Life in Four Chapters,” “Light Sleeper” and “Affliction.” His celebrated work as a screenwriter for director Martin Scorsese includes “Taxi Driver,” “Raging Bull,” “The Last Temptation of Christ” and “Bringing Out the Dead.”

Never one to shy from controversy onscreen or off, he directed Lindsay Lohan in the 2013 Hollywood-set thriller “The Canyons,” written by Bret Easton Ellis.

In March, Schrader was about three-quarters through the shoot for his next film, “The Card Counter,” in Mississippi — with a cast that includes Oscar Isaac, Tiffany Haddish, Tye Sheridan and Willem Dafoe — when the production was shut down due to the growing pandemic. In July, Schrader was able to shoot for an additional five days to complete production.

During the break in shooting, “The Card Counter” was picked up for distribution by Focus Features.

Schrader recently got on the phone to talk about the unusual circumstances of the film’s production and completion. A film critic before he became a filmmaker, Schrader not only had startling insights into his work, but also thoughts about what filmmaking and exhibition might be like in a post-COVID world.

Before we start talking about the production on the movie, could you just describe the story? What is “The Card Counter” about?

Well, I don’t want to get too deeply involved in the plot, but what I will say is over the years I’ve kind of developed my own little genre of films. And they usually involve a man alone in a room, wearing a mask, and the mask is his occupation. So it could be a taxi driver, a drug dealer, a gigolo, a reverend, whatever. And I take that character and run it alongside a larger problem, personal or social. It could be debilitating loneliness like in “Taxi Driver.” It could be a midlife crisis like in “Light Sleeper.” It could be an environmental crisis like in “First Reformed.”

So now I have a character and he’s in his room, he’s alone. And he has a mask on. And the mask he wears is a professional poker player. And the problem that runs alongside him is that he is a former torturer for the U.S. government. So it’s a mix of the World Series of Poker and Abu Ghraib.

How did you come to put those two things together?

I’m always looking for that. I’m looking for deep-seated problems, either personal or societal, and some kind of oddball metaphor. The more you get closer, you run these two wires next to each other, the more sparks you see flying across. And it’s in the sparks that the viewer comes alive. If the wires ever touch, there’s nothing left for the viewer to do. But if you keep these two wires really close to each other, the viewer will start to spark from one wire to the other. And that’s the greatest thing you can give a viewer or a reader, an opportunity to be part of the creation.

Let’s talk about the production and everything you’ve been through. Take me back to March. What was it like for you when the production had to shut down?

I have learned in my dotage how to make a quality film on a low budget. So the film I used to make in 40 days I now make in 20. And so “First Reformed” was 20. I had shot in Biloxi 15 days. Now I knew coronavirus was going to be rising, because when I heard that Macau shut down, I said, you know, it’s just a matter of time. Macau is the wealthiest gambling center in the world and I’m here in the gambling center of the Gulf. If Macau shuts down, it’ll reach Vegas, it’ll reach here. And we were doing a scene, a poker tournament with 500 extras. And I remember I said to the A.D., “We can’t put 500 people in a room without one of them being positive.” And sure enough, one of them was. Two days later, we not only closed down, all of the Gulf was closed down.

Fortunately, when I went back, I had shot my big crowd scenes. And also I had shot my sex scenes, which I would have hated to try to do under these restrictions. So all I had left when I went back was a number of scenes in the prisons, and four more scenes in the casinos, some driving scenes. So I was in pretty good shape. But I really wanted to finish the film.

And Oscar Isaac, he was on his way to Hungary to do reshoots for “Dune.” And he wanted to put off this reshoot till after “Dune” — to do it in September because he has a big beard and he didn’t want to shave off his beard. I said to him, “Oscar, there’s a window open right now in Mississippi.” I said, “If we don’t jump into this window while it’s open, this will become one of those famous films that never got finished, and we’ve got to exploit this moment.”

So I talked him off the ledge and he agreed to do it. And we were able to put everybody back together and do our week of prep and five days of shooting. It was very strange, and in a way it was kind of fun, in a summer camp sort of way. But I would hate, hate to make a whole film this way. It was an adventure for five days, it’s a nightmare for five weeks.

In the break from March to July, were you on high alert that you could come back at any moment? Were you editing the footage you already had?

Here’s what happened. I was editing. My editor is in New Jersey and my assistant editor is in Tennessee, so we’re all editing virtually. And I had four major dialogue scenes between my principal characters that I had not shot. Then I was able to screen virtually the film for a number of people I respect, like Scorsese, who is the executive producer, like [filmmaker and programmer] Kent Jones and other people. And what I asked them all is, “I have four more scenes to shoot. I can rewrite them. What am I missing? What do I need to add? How should I write these four scenes?”

And I started getting feedback about what they felt was missing. So I was able to rewrite these scenes and make these relationships much better. And not all productions get to do that. It’s a very expensive reshoot, but it was built-in that three-quarters of the way through, I have an opportunity to rewrite one-quarter of the meaningful character scenes. So I did, I rewrote it. And I realized what was missing. And I wouldn’t have realized that if I was shooting at the top. I would have only realized that in post. And I would have walked around the room kicking myself in the ass, saying, “I wish I had the opportunity to reshoot some scenes.”

How was getting everything back together?

As soon as Mississippi allowed us to come back, we came back. And of course nobody’s working, so everybody’s eager to come back. They are hyper-conscientious because they know they are only being allowed to work by the grace of God. And so the masks and the PPE and the hands and the distancing, you don’t need to tell any of the people this. They’re so happy to be at work. They have no problem with any of that.

You can only have one person within six feet of your actor at a time. That person could be hair, it could be makeup, it could be props, it can be the director, it could be another actor. And you kind of queue up. And a thing that I realized, we had a warehouse. So we did rehearsals for every scene in this warehouse. And I told the actors that when we get to the location, to the casino, the prop people will be in there, the lighting people will be there and then you will walk there with your mask on, and you will take the positions that you took in rehearsal. Then I will roll camera and you will take your masks off and we’ll play the scenes. So that’s how we did it.

Given everything that it takes to get to shooting, once you were back on set with the actors, did you still feel like they could give you the performances that you needed? Was it difficult to get to a place of artistic creation given all the other concerns that everyone has?

Because they had done the rehearsals, they had gone through the permutations of their performances before. So the only thing different for them was that they were in a real space rather than a fake space. As I explained to them, there would be no time for exploration on set. All the exploration you are going to do, we’re going to do here in the warehouse. I don’t want to hear one peep from you about changing anything once we get into this hothouse environment. So however many hours we have to spend in the warehouse, let’s spend it.

How close to finished are you with the movie now, considering you had a lot of it already cut together?

Basically, I’m finished, down to an hour and 49 minutes, which is where I think it should be. Obviously, I have to do the score, there’s the post-prod and the special effects, but the thing is that there’s no pressure to finish the film anymore at this time. I was talking to Focus, and I could give them the film in a month. They don’t want the film in a month because they don’t know what to do with it in a month. They said, you just take whatever time you need, which is the opposite of the way studios usually talk. I also have final cut, so it doesn’t really matter. What I deliver, I deliver.

When you made “The Canyons” you talked a lot about your feelings regarding the theatrical experience, VOD and streaming and contemporary filmmaking. What impact do you think the COVID shutdowns will have on movie theaters?

There’s a certain kind of film like “The Canyons,” which should be made for VOD, which is a kind of exploitation film. And there’s another kind of film like “First Reformed” that has to be mounted by film festivals and art-house cinemas, so that it has an identity prior to VOD. So if you’re on VOD and you see an Ethan Hawke film about a minister, you’re not going to say, “Oh, let’s watch that.” No, what you’re going to say is, “Oh, I heard about that film. I heard it was good.” Well, how did they hear it was good? They heard that from film festival reportage and they heard from their friends who have seen it at theaters. So that sets up VOD.

The opposite case is a film like “First Cow,” a film that was crushed by not having a theatrical window. And everybody is, “Should I watch ‘First Cow’?” They have no context. So what’s important for a film like “The Card Counter” is we have to give it context. We have to go to the festivals and we have to go to the art cinemas to tell people what we have in our hands. Then we can go to VOD, where the real money is. So “First Reformed” went to Telluride, Toronto, Venice and New York. That set the table. I would love to set the table for this one. I can go to all those festivals. That’s not a problem for me anymore. The problem is: Are festivals going to happen?

Do you think theaters are going to come back?

Not in the way they did. There are only four reasons for theaters to exist anymore. And this situation has accelerated these trends. Like symphonies and operas and live theater, concerts, they need a reason to exist. One reason is family cinema, because parents love to see their kids interacting with other kids. Animation films will always have an audience. Another is extraordinary spectacle. IMAX, virtual, whatever they come up with. Something you can’t see at home. The third is date movies for high schoolers, which is horror and rom-coms. Or rather, dirty rom-coms.

And then the fourth is club cinema. Which used to be called art cinema. But with these new institutions that are a combination of social institutions and cinematic institutions. So the Metrograph in New York has one restaurants and two bars. There’s more square footage devoted to eating and drinking than there is to watching movies. And yet it’s always full because people want to be in that environment. So then alcohol’s become the new popcorn. And those club cinemas, which were pioneered by Alamo, they will continue to exist because people want to be part of the club, people want to buy a membership. They want to eat and hang out, and they want to know which films have been approved by the club. Which is something you cannot get from VOD.

When “First Reformed” was coming out, you spoke about how you had made it thinking it could be your last film. And yet you seem so reenergized over the last few years. Do you feel that way? Have you been able to hit the reset button in some way?

Oddly, yes. I’m in the middle of a new script, which is about a horticulturalist. And what has happened in my case, following the disastrous situation I went through with “Dying of the Light,” I said, I would no longer work unless I had final cut. And once I got final cut, I was free. When I began, you didn’t really need final cut. When I was working in the studio system, all those other films, you were working with people who knew movies, who liked movies. Who you can talk to, you could disagree with — things would get changed, sometimes they’d get better, sometimes for worse in your mind, but you were working with people who liked movies, who watched movies. In the last 15 years, I’m dealing mainly with financiers, who not only don’t watch movies, don’t even particularly like them. And how can you have discussions with these people? And that’s what final cut freed me from, because I realized I couldn’t talk to these people. I wasn’t talking to [studio executives like] Barry Diller and Thom Mount and Ned Tanen anymore. I was talking to Joe Schmo from some hedge fund and I couldn’t talk to Joe Schmo. The only way I could talk to him was to have final cut.

I’m certainly excited to see what becomes of “The Card Counter.”

The new one is quite good. Focus told me not to hump it too much because that’s their job down the line. But you can take my word for it, it’s quite good.

###

[heytheregreeneyes]

How come you gave up on 'Something Just Like This'? I loved that fic

So here’s the thing...

I haven’t given up on Something Just Like This. I actually still love that fic dearly and very much intend to finish it (and I need to do it soon before Tyler steals all of my ideas like he did with Jenna’s pregnancy reveal *shakes fist at Tyler*).

As you all know, this past year I hadn’t felt much like writing and I couldn’t figure out why... until the other night at work. I was sitting at my desk, staring off into space and thinking about dialogue for the current chapter when it hit me like a freight train why I haven’t been writing. I had had an epiphany!

My eyes literally got wide as I sat straight up, gasped and literally said “Oh my God,” out loud. It was so obvious, I couldn’t believe I hadn’t thought of it before. And the first thing I did was text @ohfrickfanfic (who agrees with me), even tho it was somewhere around 3:25 in the morning. So if you wanna hear the story behind the fic, buckle in kids, cause it’s gonna be a long one, and it’s gonna get deep.

So as you all know, I started writing Something Just Like This in July of 2017. I was 4 months pregnant with my 3rd surrobaby, who was due in December on Christmas Eve. I was writing as fast as my fingers could fly and was banging out chapters probably once a week. Sometimes twice.  

December 12, 2017 - SURROBABY IS BORN! After this, chapters obviously slowed down so that I could pump milk and get my life back to somewhat normal again.

Six months later, in June of 2018, I finally reached the end of my six-month contract for pumping breastmilk for Surrobaby #3 and I started working at my current job at the hospital. I am a CNA and it just so happens that this hospital is where all the surrogate babies were born IRL. I have been super lucky and I now work in that very department, which is where I have wanted to work all my life!  Serious life goals, guys. But as you all know, nurses work insane shifts and long hours. I work overnights, 13 hours at a time, and so writing slowed down even more since I was now working my first job outside of the home in about 9 years. For the next few months, chapters are still being posted, but much more slowly.  

Things are moving along great... I’m still writing, albeit a bit more slowly, but chapters are still being posted 

April 2018 comes and my grandpa dies... my emotions took a huge hit. I had grown up very close to my grandpa and I couldn’t write happy things when I was in such a sad place. It was rough. 

Writing slows even more over the summer, but I am still writing, still posting, still planning, still rough drafting, still plotting scenes, and still writing dialogue.

September 2, 2018 - I meet HIM. I don’t want to give out his real name, so we’ll just call him William. I will never ever forget that night. I wasn’t even supposed to be at work that night; it was my night off but they had sent out a text that they needed help, so I picked up an extra shift. Around midnight I got a call that they needed me to pass off my patients so that I could go down to the ER and be a 1:1 for a patient suffering a panic attack. I gather up my things, head down to the ER, get my assignment, go to his room, and...

That was that. He had been sobbing and when he looked up and saw me, he suddenly took one last big breath and stopped crying. He calmed. We got to talking over the course of the night and it was like we had known each other for millennia. We were immediately comfortable with each other, had each other's sense of humor, shared similar life experiences, you name it. This was the night I met my best friend.

He was still hardcore in the middle of a panic attack and didn’t like to be touched, but somehow I was allowed to touch. He openly admits to how much he despises hospitals and no one was allowed in the room, but somehow was calm when I was there. Do you believe in fate? Cause I do.

A week goes by and we now are either talking/texting/video chatting/instant messaging all day and all night, about anything and everything. Our phone calls go on for HOURS and often would end up talking all through the night. Turns out that he has severe anxiety and hasn’t left his house in over two years. Neither of us could believe how quickly we connected and bonded, but the new friendship was a blessing for him and me both. Because of his anxiety and tendency to call/text/message me if a panic attack hit, he earned his own ringtone, text notification sound, and custom volume so that if he called or texted in the middle of the night, or if I was out in a busy area, it would wake me up or ring loud enough so that I could stop and answer. 

September 18, 2018 - Two weeks after meeting William, my world gets turned upside down. I lose my mom. She was only 52 years old and died very unexpectedly from sudden liver death. I was DEVASTATED.  William was there for me throughout the whole thing, something I didn’t expect since we had just met barely two weeks earlier. In fact, one of the last things my mom ever said to me was “make sure you take care of that sweet boy”. I’ll never forget it. 

After my mom died I didn’t feel like writing for a long time. Again, it’s hard to write happy things when you feel so sad and shocked. 

So this past year goes by and things level to a norm. William’s depression and anxiety waxes and wanes. We’d hang out in person at his house sometimes, mostly just making fun of each other and enjoying each other’s company. We still talk and text multiple times every day, and had gotten into a habit of sleeping while on the phone.

Then mid-October this year, something changed. We still do all of our normal stuff but he had started to say that he hated not being able to leave his house, hated the way he felt, hated not being able to do stuff, felt like a failure and a coward, etc. All things he has said before, but this time was just hitting him so much worse.

The night of October 22nd is when things really changed. To me, that’s the day I had breast reduction surgery, but that’s also the day communication between us stopped. He stopped calling, he stopped texting, we no longer messaged or chatted on discord... He was gone. 

Let me tell you that this felt exactly like another death. How could I lose someone I was so close to? Did I say something wrong, did I do something wrong, did I make him feel bad, did I scare him somehow... all these questions were running thru my head, constantly, throughout the days.

One night I texted him that we needed to talk so he called and sort of, got onto me. He said that I did nothing wrong, that I didn’t say or do anything, that he just couldn’t handle things very well at the moment and he would see texts but just didn’t have it in him to reply. He lacked the energy to call and carry on a conversation. didn’t want to do anything but be by himself. He told me that he loves me and that he misses me, but this is just how it gets sometimes. it just be like that.  

I understood. Depression fucking sucks and it just sucks the soul right out of you sometimes. I was there for him but right now, he just needed alone time... something he hadn’t required in over a year... and something I definitely was not used to. 

So there I sit this past Saturday night at work, thinking about my fic and writing dialogue in my head like I had been the last few weeks when it hits me. 

‘Oh my God,’ I thought to myself. ‘I just figured out why I write fic and why I had stopped for a bit... until now.’   

IT FILLS A HOLE OF LONELINESS AND LONGING!

I texted @ohfrickfanfic and she replied, “you were lacking male attention so you made up for it by writing fic but then you met William and he filled the void but now he’s not giving you as much attention so you feel you need to fill that void again.”

I’ll be damned if she’s not 100% right. I had love. I had someone who loved me, someone who genuinely cared about me and for me, asked how I was, loved my family, wanted to know what I was up to, took interest in my life, valued my opinions, asked my advice and took it to heart, called me his, called me pet names, gave me hugs and kissed my forehead. 

When it suddenly stopped, ngl I cried quite a few times. I was heartbroken. I went into my own depression and that is when I got the want to start writing again. I’ve always wanted to write and finish SJLT, but now the urge is there. 

Things are slowly getting better. He calls every now and then... more often all the time. He teases me and texts sometimes and sends me messages on snapchat, just not NEARLY as often as before. It’s been over a month since I’ve seen his face and I hate it, but I can see my best friend slowly coming back to life. It’s tough because I miss him so fucking much, but he’s coming around and trying to battle his anxiety. 

As far as the fic goes, I NEVER gave up on Something Just Like This and it WILL be a finished fic if it kills me. As it stands now, there are only about 3-4 more chapters to go before the fic is finished, and I would like to get it out before the new year... again, before Tyler Joseph steals all of my ideas that I’ve had planned for Josh for over two years. *shakes another fist at Tyler*

I really do appreciate all of you sticking with me and the fic for this long. Allowing me to grieve the loss of my loved ones and asking for updates on the fic... it lets me know that you like it and that my work is wanted.

I won’t let you down. 

[missjugheadjones]

Unspoken Words

Word Count: 2774

A/N: I know. I know. You all probably hate me because of how little I've updated, im still sorting my problems out and also I just started junior year in a public school but im trying to get into online and bla bla stupid stuff lol. Anyways, heres a much awaited story, and im halfway through another so keep an eye out. Much love!

MasterList

     When I close my eyes, visions of home flash through my head. Buildings I've drove by millions thousands of times, the places I've been, people whom I used to spend almost every waking hour with. Most everyone there was poisonous though, and when you have that kind of toxicity in your life sometimes you have no other option but to leave. It was a painful decision none the less, but it was one that was needed in order to save myself, my sanity, my overall mental and physical health, so one night I packed up a few of my belongings and left. I snuck through my window and walked to a car I rented the day before and I drove away, tears stinging in my eyes as I passed by the city sign. That was the end of a dark chapter in my life, hopefully the new one would be lighter and brighter.

    That's what I wish for every night, that my life will get better from her on out. I moved to a town called Riverdale, its small and quirky, it suits my style. I found myself a place to stay, a small and cheap apartment and I got myself a job practically nannying the kids downstairs for their mother as she worked. It was the beginning of summer and I had a lot of free time on my hands, you know with being new and not having any friends and all, so I didn't mind the job. The kids were crazy but they kept me company, they reminded me a little of my friends and I when I was smaller. Around the time the fourth of July rolled around, I was practically settled into my new little town and apartment, and I was happy for the first time in a long time. It was quiet here, and I liked that about it.

    That was until the death of Jason Blossom, a local teenager that surprisingly enough I had known just a bit. I met him at Pops, he approached me as I sat alone drinking a milkshake and staring out the window watching as rain rolled down the glass and wet everything beyond it. He sat by me, pushing another milkshake my way and giving me a smile. There was something about this ginger haired boy, something that told me we would be good friends. He made small talk, and he made me smile. He was my first friend, and after that day we hung out quite a bit, so his death took me by surprise and really hurt me. Who would want to kill a boy like that? What had he gotten himself into that would end up with him shot and floating in Sweetwater River?

    I spent the rest of the summer mourning his death, and when school started could tell that's how most of the kids at Riverdale High spent it. My new home seemed to have turned just as gloomy and dreary as my last, and I was close to just moving again, starting afresh once more, but it all changed when I met him. The werido, loner, raven haired boy who spent all of his time on his laptop, typing away. He was so misunderstood, no one truly really knew the boy, they all made assumptions about him and never took the time to get him, and I get it, people did that about me too. When I looked over at him, my heart skipped a beat and I decided I was going to be the one to get to know him.

    As confidently as I could, I walked over to him and smiled, but he didn't look up from his laptop, like he didn't notice my presence. Out of curiosity of what he'd do, I leaned over and closed it, and a pair of blue-green eyes shot up and met mine. He didn't look mad, nor did he look happy about what I just did, instead he looked shocked, which made me laugh.

    "You look like you've just seen a ghost." I said sarcastically, and his face turned cold, to which also took me aback a bit. Maybe I had done something wrong and rude.

    "Maybe because a stranger closed my laptop on me mid-sentence." He shot back, giving a slight smirk that made my heart melt and made me feel a bit better. He had a sense of humor, thank god.

    "You looked interesting, and I wanted to talk." I defended myself, and he chuckled slightly.

    "Normal people just say something along the lines of 'Hello', you know." I rolled my eyes and took a seat beside him on the couch in the student lounge, laughing a bit.

    "Who said I was normal?" He seemed to like that answer, and he put his laptop away in his bag, and we spent the rest of our off period talking. His name was Jughead, Jughead Jones. It was an odd name, but I liked it, it suited him. That day a beautiful friendship was born, and soon to follow was feelings beyond anything I had ever felt for anyone before. I never really believed in love until I met him, but it was the only word that I could use to describe my feelings towards him, love. I never said anything about it though, especially after him and another girl whom he had introduced me to when I met all of his friends, Betty Cooper got together.

    They seemed so happy, and I did care for them both, so I held my peace and kept it to myself. I tried exploring new feelings with Jugheads best friend Archie, but after I saw him jump from girl to girl I couldn't bring myself to like him in any other way than a friend. So after they got together, I stayed away from Jughead. No more nights at Pops laughing and writing, no more video games in my apartment, no more taking his beanie and hiding it in random places, and especially no more of staying at his dads trailer with him for a few nights while he didn't have a place to stay. It hurt me to stay away, and I could tell it hurt him too, but seeing him and Betty cozy it up hurt more than anything else I had ever felt.

    To be completely honest, after our first encounter, I would have sworn on my life that him and I were meant to be. We seemed perfect together, we made eachother happy, and even throughout disagreements, because trust me there was a lot of those, we still made up and were a strong duo. I was almost certain he felt the same way towards me, but I guess we all have times where we make a bad judgement, and I guess this was one. I started spending lunches with just Archie, Veronica, and Kevin because Jughead and Betty were off somewhere doing something else. They noticed a change in my behavior, and finally guessed why. They apologized profusely but I told them it was alright, that some things weren't meant to be.

    That night I went home and replayed their comments in my head. They all thought he had felt the same towards me as well, they were just as confused as I was. It was weird that we all thought the same thing and were so wrong, but hey, I guess Jughead is harder to read than we all thought. As I laid on my bed, my eyes started getting heavy, and I fell asleep with visions of Jughead and I together at Pops, drinking milkshakes and laughing, just as we used too. I was woken up not too long after to hard knocks on my front door, worrying me slightly. No one ever knocked like that unless there was something wrong. I quickly jumped off my bed and made my way to the front door, opening to find a wet Jughead. I hadn't even noticed it was raining, let alone hard.

    "Jughead, what the hell are you doing here?" I asked sleepily, letting him into my apartment and out of the rain.

    "I needed to see you." He said, his voice almost sounding desperate.

    "Whats up? Is everything okay?" he was worrying me. He shook his head and took off his beanie, coat and shoes, setting them beside my front door and looked me deep in the eyes.

    "where have you been the last few weeks, why are you avoiding me?" he asked, taking me by surprise.

    "Juggie..I-" I didn't know how to answer his question without spilling my true feelings, and I definitely couldn't do that to Betty.

    "Did I do something wrong?" he questioned quietly, and I shook my head.

    "No, its more like something I did, a long time ago. Its caught up to me and now I have to figure it out on my own." I tried to explain, and he took a step closer to me.

    "I can help you, Y/N. Do you need me to do anything?" My heart was racing at how close he was, and I could have sworn by the way he was looking at me he felt the same. I almost found myself leaning in, I wanted so badly to do just that, but I couldn't. I stepped back and shook my head.

    "Not really, maybe giving me space would help."  I quietly said, and his face fell.

    "Y/N, I- I wish I could help you, and I wish I could give you space its just..." he trailed off, staring at the floor. I wished so badly he would finish his sentence, I wanted to know what was wrong, I hate seeing him like this.

    "Juggie?" I noticed how he smiled softly to himself when my name left his mouth.

    "Y/N." he practically whispered, and I couldn't help it when a small smile came onto my own face, my chest feeling fuzzy when he said it. He looked back up at me, and I could have sworn he looked almost sad.

    "Juggie whats wrong?" I asked, but he didn't answer. Instead he watched me, a soft expression of what I could only describe as admiration and love, although I've never really had that expression thrown my way, so what do I know? Slowly he shook his head slightly, stepping closer to me once again.

"Nothing, I've just come to the realization lately that I think I'm doing something wrong with my life." He replied, reaching for my hand. My gaze shot from his face to his hand that was slowly inching its way towards mine, back to his face. This couldn't be happening.

    "What have you been doing wrong?" I quietly asked.

    "I think I might have made a wrong decision weeks ago, one that pushed away my best friend, the one person who I now know gives me most of the happiness I feel in my life as of lately. I should have told her something, I should have done something." He rambled, and my cheeks started to heat up. I felt as his hand brushed over mine, and I looked up at his face looking for any signs of regret. When I saw none, I let my guard down, I decided to let whatever was about to happen, happen. I wanted it, and it seemed like he did as well.    

    "What was your wrong decision?" I questioned, hoping to myself that I already knew the answer. He opened his mouth to reply, his hand grabbing mine finally, but before he could get anything out, his phone rang. The ringer scared us both, and his hand left mine, reaching into his pocket to pull out his phone. I caught glimpse of the caller, and I saw Bettys name, and my heart sank to my stomach.  

    "Hey Bets, can this wait, I'm a little busy." He said, and I heard crying on the other side of the phone. "Woah, woah, Betty, whats going on? Are you okay?" he asked frantically, backing up and running his free hand through his hair. His soft expression was now replaced with a worried one, and I missed just a few seconds ago when all was nice.

    "Is she okay?" I whispered, no matter how much I missed the moment before, I was also worried about Betty. Jughead shook his head, and quickly made his way to the front door, pushing past me. He sat on the floor and started to put his shoes back on with one hand as the other held the phone up to his head.

    "Be-Betty. Please take deep breathes, you're going to be okay, I'm coming to get you." He said, and I heard more crying on the other end. He stood up and put his coat back on, the garment still dripping rain onto my carpet. "Okay, I'll be there in a few minutes... Yup. ..Mhmm, I'll see you in a few. I-" Jugheads gaze fell onto me, and I thought I saw his eyes watering, it must have something to do with Bettys situation though."I love you." He stared at me a second longer than I felt was appropriate before he burst out of my front door, closing the door behind him and leaving me broken hearted and hopeless.

    "Ouch." I softly whispered to myself, trying to stop the tears that were threatening to spill from my eyes. I couldn't believe how stupid I was, I actually thought he was going to tell me he loved me back, I thought this was going to be when I finally got my chance with the mysterious raven-haired boy I fell in love with.

    "How could I have been so stupid?!" I yelled to myself. The tears now falling freely down my face. I dropped to the ground, holding my head in my hands. I looked up slowly and noticed the wet beanie sitting by the front door, a few feet from me. I reached for it and held it in my hands, my tears falling more now. I sat there for what felt like hours that night, crying and trying to mend my broken heart, the one I had opened up so stupidly out of hope that he loved me back. But they never do, do they? What did I think this was, a fairytale? Some kind of stupid, sappy love story? No, this is real life, and it hurts. Finally I picked myself up and carried myself to my bed, taking the beanie with me and I fell asleep with it clutched into my chest.

Jugheads POV:

    I hung up the phone and made my way to my dads truck, my heart hurting, but that didn't matter right now. All that matters is that I get to Betty, she needs me. I open the door and run my hand through my hair, taking a deep breath in an attempt to figure out my thoughts. I noticed my beanie was gone, and I remembered I had left it in Y/Ns apartment. Betty would ask questions if I didn't have it, she loves to wear it especially when she was upset, so I decided to go back for it. If I was lucky I could sneak in and grab it without being noticed by Y/N, I don't know if I want to face her after my bravery back there. It would hurt too much.

    I jumped out of the car and ran back to Y/Ns front door, opening it slightly to look for my beanie. I heard crying, and I looked at Y/N with her head in her hands, she was crying heavily and my beanie was in her lap. My heart broke at the sight, I did this. I broke her, and it was too late to fix it, I walked out. I shouldn't have wimped out, I should have told her what I came to tell her. Or maybe I shouldn't have come at all, either way, I messed up. I slowly closed the door and made my way back to my truck, tears threatening to spill. I had to go, I had to be strong. Betty would ask questions if I showed up crying, and I cant have that right now. I started the truck and drove away, taking one last look at the only illuminated window on the building, Y/Ns. My heart sank, and I sped off. Betty needs me right now, although so does Y/N, but Betty is my girlfriend, not Y/N. I made that decision weeks ago, and right now is not the time to rethink that.

Tag list: @do-not-call-me-sunshine @gelattoes @gelattoes@xbobaaa@katshrev@farmfreshcoldsprouts @sgarrett49 @always-chocolate@nadya0128 @vegaslodgeprimary@rainbows-and-glitter-bitch@lost-in-wonderland-x @lost-in-wonderland-x@mrs-jughead-jones@nafa1604 @moonlight53 @mydelightfulcollectiontyphoon@bookloveaffair @bookloveaffair@reallyshortartist @adellyhatter-blog @savvythetommo@caffeinatedfangirlstuff @riverdalemami@kenken12201 @jaib2-blog @montse-marquez-almarcha@fandom-quote@jishwadunwityou @sleeplessvoids @i-chose-the-fandom-life @jaib2-blog

[seengularity]

The Road Trip

Pairing: Jensen x reader; some Jared flirting

Summary: Road tripping is something everyone wants to do. When you finally get the chance to do it, you end up meeting two very special men in the state of Texas.

Word Count: 3.7k

Warnings: fluff?, sadness, adorableness, some kissing

A/N: Okay, I kid you not, this was a dream of mine I had several months ago and I had it written out since then. I was unsure if I should post it, but I always have dreams of Jensen/Jared or of Dean/Sam so I decided I wanted to share it with you all! I also have zero hate for Gen and Danneel and the boys sisters. I just had to portray them differently to fit the story together. SIDE NOTE: this is part one of the mini-series. Part two will be up soon.

Road tripping was always a thing you wanted to do. Fortunately for you, once you finished college and had a useless associates degree, you decided to go road tripping to every state in the U.S. of A.

You first started in Southern California and decided you would move East, going towards Arizona, New Mexico and so on.

It was mid-July when you reached Texas, the third state you'd been to within the few days that you'd been tripping.

It wasn't a very smart idea to go in the summer, but you thought it was pretty smart at the time of planning your trip. You had just graduated college in June and you had nothing else to do with your life. Getting a college degree definitely was not a promise in finding a job in the real world.

You were in Austin, Texas, although you didn't know because you had no idea how to use an actual paper map. Your phone worked perfectly, but with the 102° weather at ten o'clock in the morning, your phone overheated and failed to work unless you put it in a cool place.

But you wanted to sight see, so stopping at a cool place wasn't on the to-do list.

You stood on the sidewalk, in a busy city apparently, people walking by and many people accidently pushing and bumping shoulders with you just to get to their destination. Car horns sounded from all around you, some louder than others.

You continued looking at the map, turning it all sorts of ways to see where you actually were. You looked up, noticing the street you were standing on was the same street on the map that you were looking at. You looked back down at the map and tried to ignore the loud car horns to focus on the map, but one specific horn just became louder and louder.

You looked up to see what the commotion was, and seen a bus driving a little too fast over the speed limit down the busy street. You looked down the street and noticed a little girl standing smack in the middle, bending over to pick up her little doll off the ground.

No one noticed but you, and you quickly wondered where her parents were.

"Hey!" You yelled to get someone's attention. You began running down the sidewalk towards the little girl yelling, but everyone just stared at you as if you were crazy.

"Little girl!"

The girl didn't look up, instead she turned her back towards the oncoming bus and smiled at her little doll.

The bus was getting closer to her and you tried to run faster. You were able to make eye contact with the bus driver, and the driver frantically pushed on the horn, honking to get pedestrians out of the way.

You ran as fast as your legs could take you and as fast as the hot air would let you. Your heart was beating out of your chest as you tried catching up to the little girl.

You finally reached her, quickly grabbing her and barely missing the bus. You tumbled to the ground as the little girl made a slight oomph sound. Your knees were scraped but the girl was clean of cuts.

You breathed a breath of relief, your heart finally coming down from the crazy high it just had.

"Oh my God, what happened?"

A deep and very raspy voice sounded from above you. You raised your hand to keep the sun away from your eyes, and a man, maybe in his mid-thirties, looked at the girl on the ground.

He grabbed his little girl from the ground, and she began to whimper in pain from hitting the floor.

"I'm so sorry, the bus was coming fast and she was standing right in the middle of the road."

You clambered to your feet, slightly wobbling from the adrenaline rush and got a good look at the man.

You knew him, although he didn't know you. He was Jensen Ackles and you couldn't quite believe it.

"Hey, what happened man?" None other than Jared Padalecki came running to Jensen, worry drenched on his face.

"She," Jensen began to say, but his words came out rather choked. "She saved JJ."

Jared raised his brows in surprise and pat Jensen on the back for comfort.

"I'm sorry. I know I probably hurt her. I tried not to land on her but I did fall pretty hard," you rubbed at your elbows and noticed blood coming from both arms as well.

"Please don't apologize. It was my fault for not watching her. I turned my back one second, and the next she was under you. So thank you."

Jensen smiled at you and you smiled back at him. Jared had a huge goofy grin on his face as you stood there.

"JJ, is it true she pushed you out from in front of the bus?" Jensen asked his daughter.

She nodded her head. She was no longer crying and she lifted her head from her dad's shoulder and smiled happily at you.

You smiled back at her and rubbed her leg. "I'm glad you're okay JJ."

"I'm Jensen by the way."

Jensen reached his hand out for a shake, as did you.

"And I'm Jared," Jared quickly shot his hand out to greet yours, and you smiled as you both shook each other's hand.

"I know. I watch Supernatural. I'm Y/N. It's nice to actually meet you both."

Jensen and Jared looked at each other and gave one another a look. You couldn't tell if it was a good look or bad.

They began to talk between themselves as you waited patiently and awkwardly for them to finish their secret conversation.

In your surprise, you were actually shocked with how calm you were being. Meeting Jensen and Jared was something you had always wanted but knew you would never get because they were either always in Canada or you were just busy with school. You honestly had no idea that you would meet them both while road tripping around the states.

"Will you be available tonight?" Jared asked, suddenly taking you out of your daydream.

You nodded your head all the while making an unsure face.

"Is that a yes?" Jensen asked seriously.

You shrugged your shoulders. "Honestly, I'm road tripping right now and I don't live here or have a place to stay."

"No worries. Do you care if we give you a place to stay?" Jared asked.

"You sure? I mean I don't want to be a burden."

Jensen laughed and placed JJ back on the floor, making sure to hold her hand. "Won't be a problem for us. Unless, you don't want to come."

"Oh no, of course I want to come! I just don't like being a burden to anyone, especially to you two."

"Well you saved my daughter, and since you're a fan of Supernatural and us, I wanted to invite you to a cast party at my house."

You smiled at them both. "Count me in then."

Jared and Jensen both gave you some money to stay at a more than decent hotel near Jensen's house. They didn't want you driving too far, so you were, at most, five minutes away.

You showered in hot water, which was something you hadn't done since you began the trip. You covered yourself in the soft hotel robe as you did your makeup and did your hair. It was still killer hot outside, so you kept your makeup to a minimum and made sure to pick all of your hair up.

The closer you got to being ready, the faster your heart began to beat and the more butterflies that began to fill your stomach. Maybe because it was the heat of the moment, no pun intended, that made you calm around Jensen and Jared. You remembered that you would always tell yourself that you would be calm and collected if you happened to ever meet them.

Eight o'clock was approaching and that was the time you planned on leaving the hotel. You put on a pair of shorts, a tank top and put on a cardigan with a half sleeve and slipped on your Converse. You left the hotel and hopped in your car, and like you assumed, you were at Jensen's house in five minutes.

His house was huge. You didn't know if you should park on the street and walk up to his house, or park in his driveway like the other cars did.

You decided the former, since it is a cast party and you're not part of the cast.

You walked up to his door and could hear voices laughing and talking, none of which sounded familiar.

You knocked on the door and waited. A few seconds passed by and no one answered the door. You knocked again, not wanting to be rude. Eventually, you tried the doorbell and a woman that you knew opened the door.

She was more beautiful in person. You hardly knew anything about Jensen's love life, but his wife sure was a beautiful woman, you almost felt jealous.

"Hey! Um, are you on the list?" She asked, lifting one eyebrow up as she eyed you up and down.

You shrugged your shoulders. "I honestly don't know. I didn't know there was going to be a list. Jensen invited me."

She chewed on her lip and then smiled widely. "Oh well, come in."

She moved out of the doorway and allowed you to walk in. People that you noticed and people you'd never seen before filled the large house. Everything in the house was white except for the stair hand rails that were covered in black.

You walked farther in, receiving smiles from random people and even from cast members.

"This way. Jay is over here," she walked in front of you and you followed her through the crowd of people. You finally reached what looked like a game room, and seen Jensen and Jared talking to a few other females.

Jared was the first to see you and he smiled, making his eyes wrinkle the corners.

"You made it!" He said, coming up to you and grabbing you into a hug.

"Sure did!" You smiled as you looked towards Jensen, who was coming up to you and embracing you in a hug.

"You guys, this is Y/N. She saved JJ this morning from a bus," Jensen announced to the other females.

"Y/N, this is my sister Mackenzie, this is Gen, this is my wife Danneel, and that is Jared's sister, Megan."

"Oh wow, nice to meet you all, especially you, Gen."

You shook every one of their hands, Gen specifically smiling larger for you.

"You girls get to know each other and get comfortable," Jensen said and then walked away.

"So, how did you meet Jensen?" Mackenzie asked you.

"Well I met him this morning but I knew who he was because I watch Supernatural," you said, feeling slightly inferior to them.

Danneel laughed. "You only met him this morning?"

"Well, yeah. I've never met him before. I just graduated college and decided to go road tripping around the states, starting with the eastern states first and making my way up and around to the middle. Texas is barely the third state that I've been to so far."

"What did you graduate with?" Megan asked menacingly.

"With an A.A. in science," you said simply.

All the girls laughed, even Gen, making you feel stupid for talking to them.

"So you're basically broke right now. I doubt you can do anything successful with that crappy degree. Acting is where the real money is," Gen stated.

All four girls laughed again, making you feel hurt. You felt embarrassed and humiliated for telling them. Of course you didn't finish telling them that you took an EMT program, certifying you as an EMT, but you knew they would have just laughed more.

You walked away, their laughs cemented into your head. You found a door that led to the backyard and went out there. Several familiar cast members were out there, but you no longer felt excited for being there.

"Is something the matter, dear?" The familiar face and voice of Ruth Connell approached you.

You shook your head, sure that you weren't convincing at all.

"You sure? I'm a good listener," she said as she took a seat next to you on the lounge chairs.

"I didn't know that I was going to come here and be criticized for my education," you simply stated to her.

"Oh no, who's criticizing you here?" Ruth's expression was hurt, and it seemed like she did actually care to hear about your problems.

"Jensen's wife and sister, and Jared's wife and sister. They put me down when they asked what degree I graduated with. It's not my fault that I didn't have enough money for acting classes. There's a reason why community colleges exist."

Your eyes began to water, but Ruth didn't know that. She placed a soft hand on your back, trying to comfort you without making you feel uncomfortable.

"Forget them. They have always been like that when a new female was added to the crew. If one of the guys brought over a female friend, they would tear her apart if she wasn't an actress. They only like the girls if they are in the acting business like we all are. Honestly, I have no problem with you being in a community college."

Ruth gave a heartwarming smile to you, making you feel better.

"Well, I originally wanted to act. But I seen how much money acting classes were and how much money it was to hire an agent. When I was in my teen years, a company actually called me back but I had no transportation and my parents said that ride would be too far. So I turned my career desire a full 360° and decided to just try to save lives for a change."

"Well whether you're an actress or part of the medical field, I'm sure you'll do a fine job."

"Thank you," you said and smiled at her.

"I'm Ruth by the way."

"I know. I'm Y/N. I really appreciate the comfort. And thanks for letting me know how those girls really are."

"No problem. Us females always have to watch out for each other, don't you think?"

You nodded your head in agreement. You checked the time on your phone and noticed it was getting late and you still hadn't gone sight seeing.

"Ruth?" You got her attention and she turned her head.

"Hm?"

"Thank you for the talk. I really wish I could meet you all again sometime, but I have to head back to my hotel and get some rest."

You got up from your chair and began to walk away, until Ruth grabbed you by the arm.

"Well here. This is my number, and if you ever need someone to talk to or just need someone to listen, I'm only a phone call away."

You grabbed the little piece of paper from her small hand and looked up at her in happiness. You embraced her little body in a hug, feeling more comfort in her hug than anyone's ever before, and then let her go to walk away.

You walked back into the house, quickly avoiding the four females from earlier, and walked straight up to the front door.

"Leaving so soon without saying goodbye?" Jensen said, stopping you in your tracks.

You turned to face him, and he looked slightly sad, but you weren't sure.

"I'm sorry Jensen," you walked up to him and hugged him a little longer than you did Ruth.

"Is there a reason why you were leaving without saying bye?" He pulled away from the hug, placing his hands on your shoulders.

"I-I was, they were," you were going to tell him, but Danneel cut you off.

"She said she was late for her desperate party," Danneel laughed, but no one else did.

"Why are you acting like this? This is the reason why I'm signing those papers," Jensen said quietly to Danneel.

Daneel rolled her eyes and strolled away.

"Was that why you were leaving?" Jensen turned back toward you.

You nodded your head slowly, embarrassed that he would think you were a wimp for letting Danneel get to you.

"Ignore her. She's always acting like this. Come, let's get a drink."

Jensen held your hand and pulled you into the kitchen. Gen was hugging Jared when you walked in, her eyes going straight to your interlocked fingers.

"Aw," Jared said loud enough for everyone to look at you two. Embarrassed once again, you pulled your hand away from Jensen, receiving a look from him.

"It's okay. Relax," he whispered into your ear. "Take a deep breath."

You took a deep breath like he said, which did help relieve the stress of being there with judgemental females.

"What would you like to drink?" He asked as he noticed you finally relaxed.

"Surprise me," you smiled at him. He replied with a smile and turned towards the alcohol to make you a drink.

From the side of your eye, you seen Gen pull away from Jared, all the while eyeing you, until she walked out of the kitchen. You knew she was going to go tell Danneel that Jensen held your hand.

"I call this 'Duck Shit Inn'," he said, handing you a drink with multiple colors.

He had the same drink and rose his drink in a toast. You copied his actions, and you both clanked glass cups before drinking.

The drink actually wasn't half bad. "What's in this? It's really good," you told him.

"I put my secret ingredient in it," he said laughing.

You laughed back. "Okay what was it? Tequila?"

Jensen dramatically gasped, and put his hand on his chest as if he were in pain. "Who told you the secret?"

You rolled your eyes and swat his arm playfully. "You're so dumb."

The both of you continued to drink until Jared decided to ruin the fun and put all the liquor away.

"I think that's enough for the both of you," he said as he placed the last bottle in the highest cabinet in the kitchen.

"I'm not even drunk," you lied. Okay, it wasn't a full lie. You were buzzed, but not drunk.

"Yeah, what she said," Jensen put an arm around your shoulders and slumped on you.

"No, I think you are actually drunk," you laughed at Jensen who looked completely trashed.

"Yeah, what she said," Jared laughed as he copied Jensen's words.

Most people had left already, but there were still a hand full of people hanging out, not to mention the women you thought would be lovely people.

"Help me get him to his room, please?" Jared desperately asked you.

You nodded your head and Jared walked to the other side of Jensen, swinging his arm over his shoulder.

The both of you walked up the long staircase in the large home. You followed Jared as he pulled Jensen to the right, where a long hallway was ahead of you three.

"This way," Jared pulled Jensen through one of the doors, as you began to struggle to hold Jensen up.

His room was completely white, just like the rest of his house. He had white walls, white bed sheets, white furniture. He has kids, so you were quite surprised with how clean everything was. You didn't even have kids and your black furniture back home was stained somehow.

You and Jared finally reached Jensen's bed, and you released him, without any control, from your shoulders.

Jensen flopped hard on the bed, causing Jared to burst out in laughter. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't be laughing but that was hilarious."

His contagious laugh began to make you laugh, and suddenly it became hard to stop.

You were red in the face and tears were coming from Jared's face. Just remembering the way Jensen fell onto the bed kept Jared from stopping his laughter.

A door quickly and loudly opened, revealing Gen, her face mad with anger.

"What are you two doing!?" She yelled, practically waking Jensen from his alcoholic coma.

"Chill, we were laughing," Jared said, his laughter coming to a halt.

Gen rolled her eyes and walked away, stomping as she left the room.

"What's your wife's problem?" You asked.

"Wife?" He scoffs. "She is not my wife. Barely even my girlfriend. She's cool sometimes, but definitely a nut case."

Jared began turning Jensen's body around vertically.

"Do you guys always pick the crazy ones?" You asked as you began to take off Jensen's shoes.

Jared raised his eyebrows. "Huh, yeah. We try to avoid it, but it just happens. We're dating actresses, and they sure can act through a relationship."

"Must be tough," you said as you take the last shoe off of the drunken man.

You see Jared trying to stick Jensen underneath his blankets, so you walked to the other side and helped him with ease.

"I can tell he likes you," Jared stated unexpectedly.

He stared at his friend deeply, as if he was his brother.

"Yeah, I like him too. I like both of you," you said smiling at drunk Jensen asleep on the bed.

"No," he said, "I mean he likes you."

You furrowed your eyebrows and looked at Jared in confusion. "Why do you say that?"

"Well you did save his daughter. You're not crazy, you're a sweet person, not to mention, you're pretty hot."

Blush crept up to your cheeks, making you more red than ever. "Ha, thanks," you said awkwardly.

"And that," he said pointing to your red face, "would make Jensen melt right on the spot. He has a thing for girls who blush at compliments."

The both of you stood there, in a comfortable silence. You finally spoke up, the long silence making your voice sound louder than usual.

"It's getting late now, and I should go."

You began walking out before Jared called out to you.

"Will we see you tomorrow?" He asked giving you the famous Sam Winchester puppy dog eyes.

You simply shrugged your shoulders. "I don't know," you said, and you walked out of the room and out of the house.

 FIND PART TWO HERE

 FOREVER TAGS: @senselesssamii

[recordofagypsy-blog]

[joyful-devotion-blog]

Suburban Struggle

Honestly I have dreaded writing this blog all day.  All week.  All month.  

If you’re reading this, you’re probably wondering why I am starting out this way.  Avoidance? Maybe, even now, I am avoiding what I have to say.  I don’t want to say it or admit it.  I literally loath this topic, but God has been convicting me about it ever since I picked up the More Than Just Making It by Erin Odom.  I don’t like it, because I hate to admit to you my ignorance, my preconceived notions and judgments.  So here goes.

I needed to be humbled.  I needed to be shown my ignorance, and judgy attitude. That’s right - I am the girl in the book that couldn’t understand some people who get government aid. 

Now before you start firing your arrows and leaving nasty comments, give me a chance to explain. 

I grew up ... not rich.  I would never say I grew up poor.  Even though my mom tells me stories of only having $25 left for food at the end of the week. Despite living in a trailer; despite my father talking about working two jobs and being so tired he slept in the floor- because he couldn’t bring himself to shower.  I grew up in this, but my parents shielded me from most hardships.  I had awesome doll houses, that I learned later in life were gently used. I ALWAYS had food. I always had lunch money.  I had toys and I was content.  I didn’t wear designer jeans and still don’t, and I ate a ton of ramen noodles and drank Mt Dew.  Clean or organic eating wasn’t a topic of conversation or concern, but I was a happy, healthy kid. Eventually my father would put my mother through school, and improve our economic situation. Even knowing I wasn’t rich and there were things I didn’t have, I was exposed to those in far worse situations than my own-  making me grateful for what I had.  

I saw kids with 20 year old mattresses on the floor in their room, and no real furniture. Kids that came to school in dirty clothes, and talked about being at home alone. Kids that brought a pack of crackers for a snack at school, because in the 3rd grade, they were packing it themselves.  And when I say crackers- I mean a sleeve of saltines.  I saw many kids going through the lunch line with free or reduced lunch.  Maybe they didn’t have nice clothes or toys, but most weren’t hungry.  They lived on land that had been handed down, or knew someone who did, and almost everyone had a garden in rural America.

For me poor became the image of grandma’s house that hasn’t been painted in a few decades. A house that contains multiple generations; and the word landscape doesn’t exist. Struggle involved unemployment, and unfortunately at times someone on some type of drugs. This was my image of American poverty.  Whether right or wrong, it was and to some extent still is, the one I imagine in my mind, if someone mentions poor, low income or struggling. It’s the people I never judged for getting help, and who I think needed it.

What my mind couldn’t fathom was people from “rich” families, in “rich” neighborhoods - struggling.  I couldn’t see the suburban side of struggle.

Erin Odom introduced me to the other face of struggle.  The people who live in a nice area, a nice home, have a few nice things, went to nice schools, and have a financially comfortable extended family.  They dress nice, their kids eat organic, and have healthy snacks on hand. They volunteer at church and sit beside you in Sunday school. NEVER  would I have thought that person was struggling.  I would never think of those people filing bankruptcy, or being hungry. And to be honest, I would likely have passed judgement if I saw them getting assistance.  I wouldn’t of considered they were renting, or that the cost of living was outpacing their salary.  That despite being employed- life was still not affordable.

As I read Erin’s story I saw how easily I could of been her.  She grew up in a good family, heck she went to private school and private college!  We actually seem to have graduated college a few years apart.  Those few years appear to have made a huge difference.  While Erin suffered from The Great Recession and experienced an underwater mortgage, I was introduced to homes at unbelievable prices and a healthy fear of debt. She made one bad decision and it drowned her.  She couldn’t of known the outside influences lining up to create one of the biggest financial meltdowns of our time. She couldn’t predict the personal struggles that would have financial consequences, with worse timing.

With each page of More Than Just Making It, I became more and more humbled as I read.  I was introduced to the thoughts of someone who had grown up with privileges, and lost them.  A woman who had a higher education, a work ethic, and an empty purse. Someone who had to live and eat in an area where the cost of those things are HIGH*.  

*(I am actually moving to the same area she lived... rent is literally 3 times the cost of where I grew up, and everything at the grocery store is at least 50 cents more.) 

In one chapter she describes living in a townhouse and how she felt blessed to get a free box of fruit. Most suburban families aren’t blessed with access to the plentiful vegetable gardens I take for granted.  I grew up on a farm that my great grandparents helped create.  We have apple trees, blueberries, persimmons, and vegetables. As a child I picked, stringed and snapped so many green beans, that I swore I’d never eat them again.  We grew up in a rural area, where it was normal for a neighbor to drop by with a truck load of corn, because they just couldn’t eat it all.  Just the other day my husband’s grandma counted over 200 watermelons out of her garden with 80 still on the vine; a hobby garden they have every year and share with family and friends. To this day by mid July my husband complains, “no more squash”.  I had never considered the high cost of feeding your family, when you didn’t have a large vegetable garden.  When you didn’t grow up around farms.  When you couldn’t just go grab a  jar of healthy vegetable soup from the summer garden in December. When you live in Charlotte, or any other urban area. Erin opened my eyes, and let me walk in her shoes as I read her story.

After finishing that last page of Erin’s story I felt a conviction.

To pay attention to the people around me. People I would of never considered in need.  The people who look like me, dress like me and are good at hiding their circumstance. 

To listen for signs that someone is struggling. 

To never judge a person volunteering at a coat drive, when they take a coat for themselves. 

Assume nothing, because you can’t know what someone is going through. 

To be grateful that God has blessed me financially, and steward that money well.

To give to others and not ask anything in return.  

I am SO THANKFUL God has humbled me with this book. I would suggest anyone who is struggling to read it, and anyone who is blessed financially to pick up a copy and read Erin’s Story. More Than Just Making It goes on sale September 5th, 2017. You can pre-order a copy of the book as a part of our monthly devotional box at joyfuldevotion.com or at any major book store. Learn more about the free bonuses (valued at $220) for pre- ordering and about her book at morethanjustmakingit.com. 

And in honor of #GodProvides we will be giving away one of our monthly boxes that includes Erin’s book.  Enter to win here

Check out my full review of More Than Just Making It below.

[badforyourheartgoodforyourart]

Angel 8

My dad didn’t talk about God. My Catholic mom, all the time, but I couldn’t recall a time my dad had. So that summer day when I picked up the phone and my dad started talking about God, I was… confused.

“Sometimes God does things and no one really understands why.” It’s obvious, looking back, where he was going, but at 11 years old, all I could think about was how out of character the reference was. “Amanda died.” Amanda Harpin was the starting center-mid for my Division 4 travel soccer team. She died in a boating accident a few weeks before.

I didn’t start crying, like I knew I was supposed to. I ran up the stairs and called my mom at work. My voice was shaky as I repeated what my dad said. My mom, who hadn’t known about the accident, did her best to comfort me, but as soon as she did I got quiet. I didn’t know what to say. I didn’t know how to feel.

I wasn’t even sure if I felt sad. Confused, is probably the best I can do to describe it. I felt the bigness of the death but not the death directly. I had tried out for the BRYC Thunder at the beginning of fifth grade, almost a year before. Two moments are etched into my memory with distinct detail.

The first:

It was fall of my first season. We practiced Tuesday and Thursday on the field behind Frost Middle School. Practice started at 4:45, but our coach, Marc, expected us there by 4:30 to warm up. Cleats tied, shin guards in place, white t-shirt tucked in, getting touches on the ball by 4:30. This particular practice we were working on crossing and finishing. The drill had five lines. The people in the two outside lines took turns dribbling to the corner of the field and crossing the ball in the air in front of the goal. The people in the three middle lines made runs and tried to score. I was in the outside right line, with Amanda.

Amanda was one of the best on the team. Aside from her, the outside players’ crosses were on the ground and weak, including my own. I was a decent, capable player. But I couldn’t kick a ball in the air to save my life, which it started to feel like I might have to do. Marc — who sometimes thought he coached 16-year-old boys and not 11-year-old girls — was getting mad. He yelled till the spit gathered in the corners of his mouth. He threatened us with sprints. I kicked another one on the ground and jogged to the back of the line, hating myself, certain everyone else did too. If I had a tail, it would be between my legs like a dog that knows its in trouble. My head was down and my gaze was locked on my shoes — until Amanda spoke.

“Hey don’t worry about it,” I looked up and saw Amanda, in her gray Mickey Mouse t-shirt, grinning. “This is why we practice, right?” I stopped hating myself but continued kicking inadequate crosses, weak and on the ground. I forget, but we probably ran sprints.

The second:

It was spring, the following season. Outside of the soccer team, I was a fifth grader at Keene Mill Elementary School. My newly acquired best friend was Lindsay Smith. She was so cool. She had long blonde hair and shopped at Aeropostale and Limited Too. I had short hair that I hardly ever combed, with unruly bangs, and my wardrobe consisted of my brother’s hand-me-downs. I was whole-hearted. I was honestly indiscriminate to gender, race, intelligence, and popularity. But Lindsay was so cool. In our secret notes we’d write to each other, she’d tell me the girls she thought were pretty or cool and the guys she had crushes on or thought were weird. And I became alarmingly conscious that I had nothing to say. So, pathetically, I began looking.

One day at practice, while we routinely went through our stretches and our 20-counts, I noticed something. Amanda had extremely hairy legs. We were 11, we didn’t shave our legs. We all had light or thin hair. Amanda’s light skin contrasted with her dark hair, and I couldn’t stop glancing over. I told Lindsay about it in the note I wrote her the next day.

Now she was dead, and these were the only two memories I could remember of her. It was summer, so we weren’t practicing, but I was inadvertently kept up to date on what was going on. My dad generally stayed out of the Thunder dimension of my life (he recalls not even knowing who Amanda was when Marc first told him the news of her accident) and my mom was technologically challenged. So I received all the team e-mails — including updates from the Harpins.

There were e-mails that told of the accident in more detail: The Harpins were on vacation in Maine by Little Sebago Lake, where they went every year. They were joined by some extended family and the Klatts, a family with another teammate on Thunder. On July 3, a few of them went tubing on the lake. On the boat with Amanda was her dad, uncle, a cousin of around the same age, and teammate, Katie Klatt. An employee of the Lodge was driving. The girls had just changed positions on the boat (Amanda came off the tube and sat at the bow, Katie got on the tube). Just a few seconds after they began accelerating, a bass boat struck the left side of the ski boat at its bow, where Amanda was sitting. She died at impact. She was thrown into the water with such force that she was propelled out of her lifejacket. Divers found her body four hours later. Amanda’s dad, Paul Harpin, was rushed to the hospital with life-threatening injuries. Everyone else was physically unharmed.

There were e-mail updates of how Mr. Harpin was doing: At first, it was Intensive Care, with broken ribs and a concussion. Surrounded by his wife and three sons, Matthew, 28, Mark, 25, and Michael, 19, he recovered gradually. One e-mail explained that good news! Mr. Harpin was recovering and even joking and laughing. He then asked where Amanda was, and they had to tell him that his 11-year-old daughter had died.

There were so many e-mails. There were never-ending updates, donation opportunities and funeral information. And I was reading them all. What was I supposed to do? How was I supposed to react? It was not something I wanted to talk about, that was for sure. Not with my parents, not with my teammates, not with my friends, not with anyone. I wouldn’t know what to say. I wouldn’t have anything to say. But she was dead, you can’t do nothing.

I wrote a poem. I put it on a page on my website with a picture of her. I’m not sure how long it was up before I deleted the link from my homepage, so that only I could see it. I did send it to my coach, Marc. I felt rarely comfortable talking to him, maybe because he didn’t push for my feelings. I didn’t like the “Are you okay?” and “How do you feel about all this?” questions. It didn’t feel fair for me to answer them, or even to receive them. I was the one wondering if her family was okay, if Katie Klatt, who witnessed the accident, was okay, if her best friend on the team, Alissa Miller, was okay. Marc liked my poem. He even mentioned a line of it when being interviewed by Journal for a story about Amanda. It read “ ‘There are not enough words to say how positive and how kind and sweet she was,’ said Marc Cascio, one of the coaches of Amanda’s soccer team, BRYC Thunder. ‘She was constantly upbeat and positive. I think one of my kids put it best. She felt bad for all of the kids who did not know [Amanda].’ ” I was relieved it didn’t say my name.

The funeral was toward the end of summer. My mom and I went and sat in a section to the left of the church that was reserved for the team. I sat in the front row with my teammates. I remember one of the brothers speaking and only vaguely what he said. I remember my heart breaking watching Mr. Harpin crying, still in a wheelchair. I remember seeing her friends from school, who sat across from us. But the thing I remember most was the box of tissues being passed down the line of teammates. Everyone was crying. Alissa was bawling. I couldn’t cry. It was sad, and everyone was crying, but I couldn’t. I know because I tried. I even took a tissue and wiped my already dry eyes, so people would think I was. Then, halfway through the funeral, my mom and I left. I had a plane to catch to Montgomery, Alabama, where soccer took a backseat as I pursued my acting career at Shakespeare camp.

Our first game back in the fall, we took a moment of silence before kick-off. We sported red felt hearts with the number 8, Amanda’s number, velcroed to the sleeve of our jerseys. They were eventually sewn on. Marc bought a gold necklace with an 8 on it and always wore it. The number was retired from Thunder.

Amanda’s birthday was December 12. As a team, we went to visit her grave. We stood in a semicircle with our heads down. I peered up occasionally and saw people crying. A couple girls said a few words. Alissa put down a stuffed panda bear, because she used to call her Manda Panda. Various other people put down flowers and notes and pictures. One of the moms suggested we sing “Happy Birthday.” It was sung awkwardly. It seemed a little upbeat for the occasion.

That was the last time I visited her grave. It crossed my mind a few times, but it was nothing I wanted to do in the company of others. Four years later I got my license, and I could’ve gone by myself. But in a way I can’t explain, it seemed selfish. Why would I go? Who was I to her but a short-time teammate? I barely even knew her, but still part of me was supposed to be connected. I went months at a time without thinking of her. There were times, though rare, I’d think about it. I’d scour the Internet for information about her life and her death. I’d save pictures of her. I’d imagine her as an angel, as my guardian angel. Angel 8, she was. I’d feel sad, I’d feel angry, I’d be confused, I’d find faith, I’d lose faith. Then I’d imagine what it was like for her mom, her dad, her brothers, her best friend, and I’d feel small. I’d feel guilty. No matter what I felt, I never cried. Maybe if I’d cried I’d visit her grave.

Instead, on the six-year anniversary of her death, I went to the field at Frost Middle School. I walked around for over an hour, with my iPod playing Kenny Chesney’s “Who You’d Be Today” on repeat. “It ain’t fair you died too young, like a story that had just begun, and death tore the pages all away… Sometimes I wonder, who you’d be today.” That’s what got me. She could’ve been anyone. We would’ve grown up together. I spent more time with that team and those people than ever imaginable. Today, my life seems only minutely affected. But what if she was still alive?

What if she had been a part of Thunder till its end? She would’ve experienced the Sunday fitness tests, the suicides we ran at halftime, the “don’t be a wimp” lectures from Marc. She would’ve been a part of our Friday night pasta dinners, our team bonding activities, and our countless carpools. She would’ve won and lost with us. She might have changed games. She might have changed everything. Maybe I wouldn’t have left the team when I was 16. Maybe my life would be completely different.

What if she was one of my best friends? It’s not farfetched. I’ve remained very close with four girls from Thunder, one being Alissa Miller, then Amanda’s best friend. The five of us get together regularly. The five of us went to the zoo, the pumpkin patch, and Chuck-E-Cheese just last year. The five of us exchange gifts at Christmas and go to the beach every summer. It could have been the six of us. She could’ve been there. She could’ve been a part of those memories. I wonder what she would’ve said, how she would’ve acted, what I would’ve liked about her, what would’ve gotten on my nerves. I didn’t lose my daughter, or my sister, or my best friend. But my life was affected. I watched the sunset and went home.

Last week, I read a story on ESPN that highlighted a high school baseball player. He had been in a boat accident, and he had lost a leg. But he had lived. And with a prosthetic leg, he pitched in his high school baseball game. And I cried.