baby, i'm a lost cause-- charlie cavanaugh

[swing]

Rebel-

I know you don't want to hear anything I have to say, and I know I was an asshole. I'm an even bigger asshole for writing this ahead of time, because I knew what I was going to say to you. I want you to know that I didn't mean any of it, it was all just bullshit, Rebel. I had to do it because I couldn't think of any other way that you'd go without asking any questions. I fucked up big time.

I've been lying to you about alot of things, and I'm sorry. I know that no apology is ever going to mend anything, but I'm hoping that you can find it in your heart to learn to forget it. You're all I've got, and you don't know how much it broke my heart to say those things to you, you're like my little fuckin' brother and I don't want anything to happen to you. That's why you had to go.

I don't work for Marco, but I lied when I said that I was through with everything. I still sell, and I'm going to stop. I promise you, I'm going to stop, and just get out of that fucking mess all together. I don't want you to doubt me, I don't break my promises.

I had to have you go, because I don't rent out my apartment under my name, and I've done a lot of things I shouldn't have. They're going to find my apartment soon, and I didn't want you to be here when they did. I had a horrible dream, they shot you up right in front of me. They can do whatever they want to me, but you don't deserve to get brought into this shit. You're so fucking innocent.

You don't understand what that stuff'll do to you, I know because I was on it and I was fine, that makes everyone fine, but it's not that simple. I got off of that shit because you needed me, and I don't want you to think that I didn't want to, because I did--I wanted to be around when you turned twenty one, I want to be around when you get married, so I can be the drunkest bastard at your wedding with the longest speech. I want to be there when your kids are born, and I want to tell them all kind of crazy stories.

I would've died along time ago if it wasn't for you, in some shitty ass apartment with needle marks as wide as the Nile. I never let you say it because I'm a total fuck-up, but I want to say it now, and I'll say it to your face if you ever want to see me again. Thank you. Thank you for saving my life, thank you for just being there and putting up with all of my shit even when you didn't need to.

You didn't deserve to be treated the way you were. I will never forgive myself for the things that I said to you. I want to just load myself up right now, and drift off before you get home. I don't like doing anything the easy way, and as much as I'd love to be selfish, I respect you more then that.

I know I don't deserve your forgiveness, but you're the only good thing I have going for me right now. I know you aren't going to understand, and I don't blame you if you don't ever want to talk to me again, but I want you to know that I love you. I love you and I am always here for you, and I will always protect you as much as I can.

Always,

Charlie

[swing]

The white ridge was met with a frail hand, leaning a bone thin body to hover over the expanse of the tub as the second hand splayed fingers to turn the knobs of the faucet and started the waterflow. At first, the sound of rushing water was nearly deafening, but as the tub slowly started to fill--it wasn't all that loud, more tranquil than anything else. Feet propelled the rotten frame upwards so that eyes could meet the reflection in the mirror--cheeks had sunken in a holocaust of white flesh, and dark rimmed eyes were heavy lidded as they tried to find some floundering fray of hope to grasp on to. Sadly, for Joselyn, there were none.

The tub was nearly full when she wiped the streaming line of tears and mascara from her face. She promised him in a letter, because she knew he'd never answer his phone. Submerging herself in the clear water, she drew in her last ragged breath of a cocaine induced happiness. The razor was grasped off of the sill of the tub, and with words came poisoned blood trailing into the water.

"I love you..."


Left on her dresser in a neatly printed script;

Charlie-

I've tried to write this letter several times, and they've all just come out wrong. so I'm just going to write, until my hand's crippled, and I can't see your face anymore. I know you better than anyone does, baby. Does that scare you?

It scares me. It scares me when I wake up expecting you to be sleeping next to me, and all I find are empty sheets and cold pillows. It scares me when my heart stops beating every time the phone rings, because I'm hoping it's you. I don't know why I think you'll be here comforting me, I guess I hope that somewhere in your heart, you still love me...But, after the last time we talked, I guess I'm just lying to myself. I'm so tired of lying.

I never lied when I said I loved you, Charlie. I love you more than anything--more than Cocaine. I guess some times it felt like I didn't, because I needed cocaine, I depended on it. I wanted to depend on you, baby, I really did, but you never could depend on me, could you? I shouldn't be so bitter about that, I mean, I never needed anyone until I met you...Not like that...Not like this...

I love you so fucking much, and every time I see you, you always find a way to rip out my heart--I deserve it. I'm not saying I don't. I don't know why I expected you to take me back, to wrap me up in your arms when I'm shaking, to whisper all of those beautiful things you used to say to me before we fell asleep.
I don't expect you to understand, I know I hurt you. I can't say how sorry I am, enough times. You always told me that it didn't mean anything if I said something, because I'd have to prove it. I'm going to prove it baby, really soon.

I wish I could take everything back. I wish I could change things, to make things better for you. I wish I hadn't taken you to Marco's..I wish I hadn't gotten myself into this spot I'm in.. I wish I were perfect, like you used to tell me I was. I realize now you were lying to comfort me, and it's okay. I'd give anything just to hear you lie to me like that again, because baby, you made everything okay.

....But I guess there's no use in wishing, because wishing doesn't fucking change a thing does it? I met you, I fucked you, I loved you, and I killed you, didn't I? I ruined you, baby, and instead of basking in my beautiful devastation, I'm trying to fix you. I want to fix you Charlie, please let me. Please let me fix everything, wipe it clean for you. I don't want you to hurt any more, I never wanted you to hurt in the first place.

I know you've thought about this from the beginning. How much better off you'd be without me, and baby you're so right. I'm no good anymore, for you. For anyone. I'm nothing but a whore, and I can realize that now. It's amazing how your words can open my eyes, everything you've ever said seems so clear now. You're right, I didn't deserve you, and I still don't. I'm damaged goods--a pretty mouth, but not much beyond it. I just wanted to feel loved, baby, I wanted to feel what I did for you. I wanted to love you the way you should be loved, but in all my shortcomings, I think this was the biggest..and I don't expect you to listen to my explanations. I don't need to explain anything to you--you already know.

So, here I sit...I'm two lines closer to happiness, because I'm going to do something for you for once. I'm going to give you my heart, and I'm going to purge my veins....For once, I'm being entirely selfless.. It's selfish of me to want you to come back to me, when you'd rather forget you ever knew me. You'll forget soon, I promise.

..I just want you to know that I love you, and I always will..

Josleyn.

[swing]

The filament hum of the UPS store room was enough to drive anyone mad. His arm itched like hell underneath the white gauze that hid a dirty little secret--self vaccination for a horrible disease called reality. Arms were already lifting up their box burdens to yet another brown uniform who loaded them in the truck. Another normal day.. Another normal day in the life of Charlie right?

Wrong.

"Mr. Cavanaugh?"

"Yeah?" He hadn't looked away from his task, because paying attention to the labels was better than breaking grandma's china.

"I'm Officer Pryhoda, from the NYPD."

His first instinct was to run; to run and not look back, because silver cuffs were coming off of the officer's beltloop to lynch hands in a subordinate manner. He'd already done time, he didn't want to make a habit of doing it again.

"Look, I don't know wh-"

"Did you know a Joselyn McDervish?"

The name hit him like a sucker punch in the stomach, temporarily winding him and tensing every muscle in his body.

"Yeah...Why?"

"I hate to be the one to tell you this, but she's dead son." officer stepped forward to place a consoling hand on Charlie, who shrugged it off almost immediately.

"What do you mean she's dead? She called my apartment last night..."

"Why don't you come down to the office, and we'll talk about this. This isn't exactly the best place, and we have something she left for you in the evidence room."

"Alright, just let me tell my boss."wiping off his hat in one fell swoop of bone fingers, vocal cords nearly shredded, and body numb from the shock of his words.

"I took care of it, just follow me."

The car ride to the station was from a different view for once. Instead of being seated in the back he was positioned in the passenger seat, while the officer tried in vain to cut the tension. Charlie dodged all commentary with a clenched jaw, and a cold stare out the window. Once inside the officer murmured in hushed tones to another man in a suit, while Charlie was instructed to have a seat. The man in the suit shook Charlie's hand before seating himself at the desk, which had a plaque that read: Benjamin Miller.

"How long did you know Ms. McDervish?"

"Three years, give or take a few months."

"What was your relationship to the deceased?"

"We dated. I haven't talked to her in two years."

"Oh, that's interesting because from the looks of this letter, it seemed like you were fighting."

"Listen, Jos was a--"

The letter was handed to him to read before he could even finish his sentence. He didn't look at it, instead he looked the man straight in the eye.

"Listen, I appreciate the work you've done here. If this is about some kind of foul play or some-"

"No, this isn't about your track record, we found the letter and thought you should have it."

"Joselyn was a whore. Don't let anyone tell you different, whatever happened to her...She deserved."

Charlie rose, to see a slack-jawed Mr. Miller in his seat.

"She slit her wrists Mr. Cavanaugh, in a bathtub. She only wrote to you, and we can't find her family, so we don't know what to do with her body."

"Dump it in the fucking river. I don't want anything to do with her."

Letter crumpled and shoved in a pocket, he didn't want to deal with it right now. Mr. Miller trailed behind him calling out to Officer Pryhoda who was enjoying a cup of coffee.

"Jimmy, take Mr. Cavanaugh back to work, won't you?"

Charlie shook his head at the man, and held up a hand.

"That's okay, I'd rather walk."

He wasn't going to read that letter that burned a hole in his pocket now, because he couldn't handle it sober--he never could handle Joselyn without heroin lacing his veins.

[swing]

Ashes to ashes...

He was white hot in the winter air--a half naked silhouette with a green bottle dangling from blood soaked bonethin fingers. Half empty and not because he took a single sip, but doused his skin in an effort to heal those wounds which seemed to be cauterizing on the seventeenth floor--the rooftop. He could tell you that the edge never seemed that high until you were launching off of it--his bottle martyred so he could lean over and watch it shatter--of course he could only imagine things from this high, when his eye leaked copper instead of saline, and his heart stopped pulsing in his ears. There was silence, slow fucking motion and silence.

--four hours earlier.?

Shadows hung from church belfries as he walked the cracked pavement (it was so much like his soul, together but never truly together) with hands jammed into pitch denim. How long had it been old boy? A month? Two? Six? Funny how churches always made him think of heroin binges, probably because he'd ended up on cathedral stairs more than once with tell tale lines and slurred epiphanies. His spine was still hunched and his veins still screamed out whenever he passed shadows in an alleyway--the faces that looked strangely familiar, because they were similar; different hair, different skin, but always the same fucking lie.

He was beginning to realize in this sober state, just how magnificently he lied to everyone, he almost fooled himself...Fooled himself into thinking that he didn't need anyone as long as he had her. Her, his little nickname for heroin--that was the biggest whore of them all, the one who shared herself to anyone with the money to make this hit better than the last..The purest rush of euphoria, that was better than all other earthly experiences. It made him sick to his stomach, so much so that if he had the will power, he'd of gutted himself just because he knew that his insides were just as rotten as the veins he pinpricked.
His mind wandered with his feet in a mechanic rotation--a detour passed graffiti walls and street kids, ones who pushed and ones who didn't, towards a payphone. He was so terribly alone among the ghosts of people and he just wanted to get his mind off of it all, fingers fumbled for change as the receiver was cradled between the sharp angle of his shoulder and the crook of his neck. Numbers were pressed in, the five a little harder than the rest because he didn't hear the rotary when he pressed it lightly--a transmission of current traveled towards wires that held his only real family on the other end.. Seven rings and no answer, hang up and dial again, he dialed four more times and there was still nothing. People would tell him that everything happens for a reason, and he would tell people that he should've known fucking better.

The receiver wasn't put back on the hook, leave it to someone else who wasn't running like a subway that was ten minutes late. Pavement beat underfoot hard, but his feet didn't notice, and when his lungs finally constricted on the twenty fourth block and made him collapse, it wasn't his will that pulled him back up, that burned his lungs until he was choking for air...Fingers grabbed the railing and he rounded stairs, each flight crippling him more so that by the time he reached the apartment's heavy black door, he could only knock once. His body wasn't as strong as his mind was, five minutes of crippling pain and he was pushing it aside to slam palms on the door. He didn't remember screaming or ramming himself into the door until it opened with his blade's dislodgment, but he remembered the face..

A cherub--radiant and glowing in the city's radioactive glow, which diffused on pale skin and made his eyes like hollow sockets, an urban sprawl with hooked fingers around a picture frame--one of Milla that Charlie had sworn he'd thrown out, not because he admired it, but because he'd collapsed on the mantle of a fake fire place that was now crushed under a disjointed arm. A corpse--cadaver cold but no signs of his fatal flaw, no.. his flaw wasn't self-made.. Chapped lips rasped out one phrase that was such a poetic effigy--even at his worst, River looked so fucking beautiful.

"I'm sorry."

His eyes didn't sway from that vision even when the paramedics arrived and shoved him out of the way, so that Rivers mangled body could be straightened and stapled to a stretcher. Mouths moved and words were spoken, but Charlie didn't hear any of it. All he heard was that one rasping sound, over and over in his mind--if that wasn't death, it was too fucking close for his comfort.

One.

"Mr. Cavanaugh.. I'm afraid I have some bad news.."

Two.

"We can't let you see him at this time.."

Three.

"All information on his condition is strictly confidential."

Four. "It is only given to the relatives."

Five.

"Mrs. Holiday is flying in, she can authorize you to find out."

Six.

"He's very lucky you were there, I can tell you that."

Seven.

"You can wait in the lobby if you'd like."

Knuckles met the wall until he couldn't feel he grain scrape away his knuckles anymore, until his fingers were painted scarlet and his face was stained in saline...Until he was pulled away and his shoulder was jammed into its socket again...Until Lilianna spoke to him.. He heard nothing, he saw nothing, except for River's face.

"The doctors say he stopped taking his medication fix months ago, Charlie. They found his left arm ace bandaged, like he used to in soccer, you remember? They say...he's..."

He was already dead--Charlie could feel it in his bones. Five months ago, it was Charlie who threw him out, who pushed him away because he didn't want him to get hurt any more, it was five months to the day. Five months of slowly killing the only thing he had close to a family.

"............Are you...."

Shellshock and a stab in the chest. His vision was unfocused but his eyes were electric--they sparked an answer before it even left his lips.

"....Yes."

The cab ride home was systematic and completely silent--save for the driver's announcement of the fare, Charlie's eyes hadn't left the meter. He was afraid to look at anything else, to find something that reminded him of a sealed vault in the hospital...

It was here--that first place he'd ever shared with River was haunted--its mirror shattered so that already bloody fingers could pick out the sharpest distortion. Russet fell into the sink along with copper spatter, until his form was true to life--crystal clear in the shattered mercury, the ugly truth that he woke up and saw every day. The mirror shard was ground into a fist until he turned the dingy basin completely red. River hadn't ever given up on him, so why the fuck would he?

One more fucking transplant, and River would never see the light of day, without Charlie's fucking shadow breathing down his neck.

[swing]

A gray day always signified a shift in the gravitational orbit of the earth. For Charlie, most of his days were pitch black. Tattered shoes hit the sidewalk with little notice of cracks--he wasn't superstitious or he'd of been dead a long time ago. He'd been off work for fifteen minutes and had just left the post office to head towards the diner that Thom had arranged to meet him at.

A half an hour and two cokes later, Charlie buried his head in a menu to keep from glancing at the door every five seconds. He hadn't looked up when he heard the cheap vinyl across from him creak and give way to the weight of its oppressor.

"You're late."

"Charlito, I'm never late for anything."

The menu was set down on the table before Charlie was reaching for a cigarette to keep his hands from throttling the man across from him. While he fumbled for his lighter, Marco flicked on his own and offered it to him, to which, Charlie batted away.

"Come now, is that any way to act towards a friend?"

"We're not fucking friends."

"You're right, but for right now? Diana thinks we are."

When Charlie's eyes finally took in the man who was leaning back into the seat across from him, he was met with a cigarillo sneer. Diana, as that's what her nametag read, offered them coffee to which both men passed on.

"What do you want."

Charlie's words weren't inquiring at all, they were demanding because Thom was supposed to be there and he'd have to change booths to get away from the grimy feeling Marco left on everything he touched. Marco just laughed at him and ashed his cigarillo in the glass ashtray.

"Tomas is not coming, I called. I want to have a meal with you."

Charlie set his cigarette in the outer rim of the glass ashtray before leaning across the table to speak in a quiet pitch.

"I'd rather starve then sit here with you. "

To which Marco leaned forward.

"Have it your way."

Diana came back and both men resumed their leans with eye contact to the blonde with a braces-filled smile. She asked what they wanted to order, and Marco piped up.

"Two cokes, a Monte Cristo for my friend and a pig in a blanket for me."

Even a smile from the mouth that dripped Portuguese, Diana left leaving Charlie to follow suit.

"I wouldn't do that, Charlito."

"Why."

"How is River doing? Better now?"

Charlie sunk back into the booth with eyes searching the other's face for the fissures of his bluff.

"What the fuck do you want."

Marco took a pause for dramatic purposes (because it irritated Charlie) and inhaled slowly, letting the smoke stream from his nostrils.

"What's mine."

"Nothing I have, belongs to you."

"Everything you have, belongs to me."

"Bu--" Diana came back and interrupted his sentence with their drinks, mentioning that it should only be a few minutes longer on the food. Marco just snickered and took a sip from the glass, forgoing the straw.

"How is my princessa treating you?"

Charlie remained silent, finishing off his cigarette and assaulting the bottom of the ashtray with the burning filter.

"That well huh? How does it feel...Always picking up my leftovers? Knowing that I fucked each and every one of them."

"Even your sister, you sick fuck."

Marco's features darkened when Charlie finally came back with a response.

"I would be careful what you say."

"Why? We all know you can't kill me, especially not here."

Diana interrupted them again, leaving Marco's face in a snarl as their food was set down.

"Did you get my Christmas card?"

"I've got yours in the back alley."

"I don't know whether to applaud or berate for your blindness."

"What the fuck are you talking about."

Marco said nothing but began to eat his meal. Charlie pushed his off to the side.

"You're not going to eat? A Monte Cristo is very suiting for our situation, don't you think?"

"I'd eat, but this place seems to be crawling with roaches."

"I'd admire you, really I do. I wish I had that kind of devotion for my whores."

"Lucy's not my whore."

"Oh, what? You're lovers? She told you she loved you hm? We all know what she's after, Charlito."

"No, we all know what she was after when she..."

"When she what? Fucked me? Hm? She's fucking you for the same reason."

"No. She fucked you while she high because she couldn't bear the thought of you touching her."

"And she doesn't do the same with you? I find that hard to believe, she's a junkie. A worthless waste of skin, but you always did fall victim to the ones who were worse off then you."

Charlie was sliding out of the booth then.

"You know what Marco? You can have her fucking skin, because I have something you'll never have."

"What's that Charlito? Her heart?"

"Her trust."

[swing]

"And another thing, seriously...I can't take this fuckin' weather, you know what I mean? It's too goddamned ridiculous for a person at my age to walk around in snowpants like I'm going on some big fuckin' toboggan escapade."

Pointing half of a peanut butter and jelly sandwich at the end of the table before continuing after he'd taken a bite and swallowed it.

"I know you don't understand though. You wouldn't, why? Because you live in a fantasy world. FAN-TA-SEE. Don't look at me like that."

He turned so that he faced the refrigerator and took another bite of his sandwich. The peanut butter made his tongue stick to the roof of his mouth and his syllables tumble out awkwardly.

"So anyways, like I said. This is ridiculous, we've been down there how many times? Eight. EIGHT TIMES and nothin'. Nada. Zip. Zilch."

A tiny sound was made from behind him and he felt guilty, so he turned around.

"Aw now, it's not your fault honey. You didn't break the heater, I don't think you're big enough to do any real damage anyways. It's those communist lookin' bastards from 4C that most likely did it. Went down there with a wrench and WHACK!"

He swung his arms in the air to emphasize his point before finishing the half of the sandwich: chewing, swallowing, and leaning on the counter.

"So, whaddya gotta say about that?"

There was silence from the other end of the counter.

"Of course you got nothin'. You're a damn mute, what am I thinking."

He slammed a palm to his forehead, and then leaned down to whisper conspiratorially.

"That's probably good, Jupey, because if she knew what I talked to you about..She'd have me committed."

Have him committed for all the wonderful things he never said to her face, but could tell the kitten.

[swing]

[Summer, five years prior]

The roads hadn't been wet for several days--that wasn't the apparent cause of the accident.

"Well Bob, she's registered to Ashton Cavanaugh."

"That his boy?"

The taller of the two old men nodded a hat towards where the neon blue and red siren-lights were missing.

"Can't tell, we're gonna have to pry him out of that you know."

"Christ, fuckin' teenagers. Check his alcohol level too, won't you?"

The mangled metal casket had taken out seven mail boxes, the side of a brick house, a few tree branches and part of a guardrail before it finally rolled over into the ravine. Through the windshield, feet away from the car, lay a mangled mess of disjointed bones. Charlie Cavanaugh was pinned underneath what appeared to be the hood and part of the motor, which had launched the shiny black steel into his shoulder. Two officers were trying to check a pulse, but they couldn't seem to find it. The paramedics came down shortly after, with the fire marshal to pull off the hood.

-----

"Mr. Cavanaugh."

"Do you know what time it is?"

"This is Dan down at the NYPD."

"Let him stay overnight, he deserves the jail tim--"

"Your son's been in a car accident."

"What?"

Ten minutes later, Ashton Cavanaugh was face to face with a nurse who seemed a bit frazzled at his demands.

"Do you know where my son is?"

"I'm sorry, you'll have to check with the front desk."

Storming away and inquiring about his son and the injuries.

"They are in section C, just through those doors. I don't think they've finished operating on him yet."

The doors were sifted through to expose officers with their hats pulled off of their heads.

"Mr. Cavanaugh."

"Yes....What happened?"

"Well, we...don't know exactly, but it seems to just be a case of reckless driving."

"How is it?"

"Well, he's going to be okay. He broke a few bones, and they're removiing part of the hood from him now, he's actually lucky it didn't pierc--"

"Not Charles. The car."

"Oh, well that's totaled."

Ashton said nothing else to them and left the way he'd come, dropping by the nurse.

"Call me if you need to pull the plug, otherwise patch him up and send him on his way."

[swing]

He lied about work for this. For this one moment where he'd break every rule that he'd forced himself to stick to. A fist curled around the two silver coins so taut that when he released them to send the circular edges into a metal coffin of the pay phone he had ridge outlines across the (newly scarred) lifelines. Numbers were pushed in as the receiver was held to his ear by a bone shoulder and the crook of his neck, until fingers could wrap themselves around it.

"Hello th--"

"Put him on."

"May I as-"

"Charles."

"One moment."

His street aged gravel eroded voice was quick to cut off the chipper sounds of an underpaid secretary. He didn't need to hear this routine like he was thirteen years old again and he'd be reprimanded for making this call, disrupting his father's busy schedule of interns and clients. Fingers gripped the dingy black plastic of the phone and threatened to crack it with the way that his knuckles bleached themselves out.

"I'm a busy man, Charles."

"So am I."

"Do you hav-"

"I'll be upstairs in ten minutes, you better be ready."

The phone receiver was slammed down and he tried his hardest not to tear off his sport coat--the one of the only two he owned. His father had nothing on him now; a suit and tie, hair that was growing back and the only bruises he possessed were internal. The elevator was taken and he stepped out bypassing the screeching secretary.

"You can't go in the-"

But it was too late, the door was already open and he was already inside to stand before the man.
"I'm so glad you've come to your senses, Charles, really."

"I have no feeling left with you, Ashton."

"What do you want from me then, son?"

"Don't give me this paternal bullshit. You were never a father figure for me, so don't try and act like it now."

Ashton leaned forward in his chair, a serious stare as his jaw tightened.

"I would be careful what y-"

"Or what?"

Charlie moved to slam both hands on the expensive desk in an effort to crack the wood but instead wound up leaning over it, staring the man down with the very same colored eyes.

"Or what? In case you haven't noticed, there aren't any damp places to lock me in."

Ashton recoiled and kept his jaw tight, for once in his life he was quiet.

"Give it to me."

"What the fuck are you talking about?"

"The number."

"No."

"Give me the number or I swear to God you'll have wished that car crash killed me."

"I already do Charles. I already do."

But he relented, something pulled from his drawer--a pen and a piece of paper. The number was written down and slid over to Charlie who stared unfazed by the words that were said to him. He'd heard it before, so why would it matter now? The paper was snatched from the desk and he walked towards the door.

"At least you clean up well."

The door was slammed on his way out and he held his breath until he left the building with fists shaking and spine rattling--he did what he had to. It was just that simple, it was all he needed to remember. Streets were passed until finally he wound up at home--hours away from Lucy's arrival but hours didn't seem like enough time. He sunk to the floor; the space where his spine could curve against the ugly pattern on the armrest and his feet could catch the window ledge--so he could still see the lights in the darkening apartment as he pulled the paper from his pocket and stared at the script. He felt guilty, but why should he? She'd found Henry Ford, he could find Elaine Smart. Numbers dialed with shaking fingers, apprehensive to the response, but still the phone rang.

"Hello?"

It was a voice he didn't recognize, not that he'd remember what it sounded like any way.

"Hello...Is this Elaine?"

"..Yes it is, may I ask who's calling?"

"Your son."

From New York to Utah, the silence was enough to stop both beating hearts.

[swing]

He told Lucy he'd come back with dinner. A shaky conversation with his mother made him just want to be alone. She understood, like he knew she would. He found himself winding through a park near the high school, with hands in his pockets and nothing but steam escaping his mouth. By the time he'd crossed the playground equipment, school had been let out, sending him into a flurry of people and white noise. He only shoved his hands into his jacket pockets further and shouldered his way along the sidewalk. There were three girls laughing in front of him when he made it to the sparsely populated end of the block. He was going to pass them when he heard the name that lingered on the tip of his tongue. He paled and his heart stopped, but he kept walking, listening to their words, trying to decipher who's voice was whose.

They crossed a street and turned a corner just to stop in front of a boarding bus. He was shadowing the redhead in the powder blue coat, lifting a hand to set down on her shoulder, but instead it swept over her hair like moth's wings across skin, he murmured an apology and pushed through the girls to get on the bus. All three sets of eyes looked dumbfounded as the door closed and the bus pulled away.
He sunk into the plastic seat and rolled his head until it connected with the window, so he couldn't read the street signs. Minutes ticked off until he wound up a block from the diner where he'd parked the car. Stepping off of the bus, he made quick pace towards the diner and past it, unlocking he car and sliding in. He felt his breath give way and his hands shook when they gripped the wheel. He had no where to run and his eyes were out of focus, so instead he snatched up the notebook and went inside. He remember his promise of dinner and took a seat at one of the small booths that sat next to a cold window--he could smoke there while the sun glared in his eyes. An elderly waitress stopped at his table and he turned over his cup so that she could fill it with coffee, while shaking hands lit a cigarette. The first exhale was spouted right towards the ceiling as his head lolled back against the red vinyl and held itself there. The door jangled as people came and went, but he paid no attention to anything until his cigarette was finished and the notebook was opened.

The waitress came back and he placed a to-go order while finishing off his coffee. Against the door jangled, but this time it didn't stop--the ascending bells of girl's laughter caught his attention first, but the second was the way they folded like a floral arrangement into the table across from him. Another cigarette was lit while he glanced over at them--four giggling high school girls: two brunettes, a blonde, and a redhead sat at the table. He held his breath until the smoke had dissipated in his lungs, simply watching them with a pang of panic rising in his stomach. The redhead was telling a story with her hands that fluttered back and forth with the rise and fall of her voice, completely oblivious to anyone around them as she spoke. the girls laughed at all the right moments and looked shocked at others--he'd lost himself in listening to their life. The brunette on the redhead's left nudged her with an elbow.

"Hey Bri? Isn't that the guy from the bus stop? Do you know him?"

The girl tipped her head in an attempt to be discreet while the redhead's smile faded when she turned blue eyes to look in the gestured direction.

"N-no, I don't think so...Why?"

"Because he's been starting at you since we walked in."

"Really? Should I go tell him off?"

"No!"

Only one girl protested while the other slapped the table and nodded in approval of her question.

"Don't be such a pansy, Kristen, Jesus."

The redhead rose from her seat and smoothed out her jacket, to which, he quickly adverted his attention to his notebook.

"Excuse me."

She tried her best to be polite as she cast a shadow over his table.

"Yeah?"

His voice was gruff and gravel pitched as he directed the cigarette smoke towards the ashtray, shutting the cover of the notebook.

"My friends well.." She gestured over her shoulder before turning back to him. "They saw you staring and...I was just wondering if you could stop? It's just a little creepy, you know?"

The stone of his heart dropped into his stomach as she spoke, small words forming in his throat.

"I wasn't staring...."

"Well, watching, whatever."

He leaned forward on the table and gestured over her shoulder back towards the table.

"See that painting behind your friend where you were sitting?"

The girl turned to look where he was pointing.

"It's Millias, Ophelia I believe. It's one of my favorites."

"......Oh. I..I didn't know."

She let out a nervous laugh and shook her head.

"Look, I'm really sorry I didn't mean to bother you."

"It's....It's okay, Bristol."

His voice was slowly faltering and she turned back to face him wide-eyed.

"How did you know my name?!"

"Your jacket."

She looked down at the white print that embroidered her name on the letterman's jacket and shook her head.

"Oh yeah..Right. Well, sorry anyway."

"Don't worry about it."

He moved to slide out of the booth, pulling his wallet from his pocket.

"My order's up and you've got company."

"They can wait." She waved them off with a smile to him. "So what's your name? Of should I just think of one for you?"

He wilted against the counter, pulling out the money for his food, which he slid on top of his notebook in a brown paper sack.

"It's better if you just think of one for me.."

"That's kind of mysterious, can I ask why?"

"Your mother wouldn't want you talking to strangers."

She stood at the counter confused a moment after he slid out the door, debating whether or not to follow him but, was pulled back by the blonde.

"So what happened Bri?"

"I....I don't know."

[swing]

"WHAT?!"

"I--"

"WHOA WHOA WHOA! HOLD THE PHONE, you did WHAT and you said THAT? You are such a hallmark flamer. I am embarrassed to even KNOW YOU."

"Fuck you Holiday! I don't see y--"

"SHUT YOUR PIE HOLE ASSMONGER! "

"....."

"NO! I hear you breathing jerkface. Now. We''ve got to discuss this."

"W-"

"WHAT DID I SAY? That's what I thought BEYOTCH. W-"

"YouaresoFUCKINGDEA-"

"WHEN A MAN AND a woman love each other, they give what is called a love ha--"

"JESUS CHRIST R-"

"No, Jesus isn't here right now.. Can I leave his holiness a message?"

"Shut the fuck up I-"

"HEY. You called me, let's just get that straight loverboy. I didn't call you pining out my heart like some whiny little mushypants."

"Mushypants? What the fuck are you on?"

"Ritalin. Now, so.. what do I have to do?"

"Congratulate me, asshole."

"For what?"

".....Proposing."

"I haven't said yes yet!"

"RIVER!"

"WHAT?"

"You dri--"

"You drive me craaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaazy I just ca--"

"Thaaaaaaaaaat's enough of that."

"Fine, grumpyass. Really though, do I have to jump out of a cake or something?"

"Why would you---you know what? I don't want to know the answer to that. No."

"Isn't that what they do? Jump out of a cake and sing that happy birthday song?"

"No th--"

"Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh! The strippers do that! I'm so telling Lucy you want strippers at your wedding."

"And I'm so going to tell your face my fist story."

"Pft, I can take you old man."

"I'm g-"

"LALALALALALA Nooooooooooooot listening to youuuuuuuuu."

"Then I guess you won't care if I tell you you're not my b-"

"You stop right there! That's a lie."

"Yeah I know."

"So.. Should I...like...call Lucy missus or old lady?"

"That depends on how badly you want to hurt."

"I already told you I can take you."

"I'm talking about her."

"Yeah, she wouldn't hit me. We're pimped out and tighter than a--"

"RIVER."

"pair of spandex shorts, WHAT?"

"...Nothing."

"Whatev'. So...I still can't believe you said that."

"Said what?"

"The diamond thing, that's so.... nineteen fifty-three, but at least she can see past your retarded Romeo-isms. Why didn't you just start singing the k-i-s-s-i-n-g song?"

"Some day, you'll get a girlfriend, and I'll tear you a new one."

"Yeah okay."

"Oh that's right, girls have cooties."

"Just the ones you date!"

And with that, the phone conversation was abruptly finished.