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 Posted: Wed Sep 14, 2016 9:33 am
Of course it’s a sunny day, Alois thought bitterly. Sunshine stared down at him, peered through the gaps between trees and bathed the children that intermingled en masse at the old, weathered playground. The groaning of the equipment formed a din with the children’s cries in excitement, in pain. Somewhere beyond, the birds sang, but their voices were never meant for human ears. A crow sang its sorrow song in a series of hoarse caws, mourning the death of what birdsong it could’ve been. It flew then, parting from present company.
The grass was soft with recent rains, and loam conformed to his feet gratefully. In some areas, in the shade of overlapping trees, his treads still slipped on thick tracts of mud. He knew it was the best day for his plans, but it felt so terribly unlike the works of fiction when weather worked in favor of the mood setting. There weren’t storm clouds here, however, and little more than a single cumulus cloud lurked on the horizon. Perhaps there was to be a distinct dichotomy between Ashdown’s joy and his own private mournings. The world, after all, never recognized that he was gone.
So Alois hiked for a time, himself in silence, the park in birdsong, and kept climbing the old, sloping hills until he could no longer see the children entertained on their garish playsets.
When he found a tree punctuating the apex of a hill, he stopped and looked at the root system that slowly unearthed itself. Gnarled segments arced over the ground before passing beyond the grass and out of sight. He knelt before the old oak tree and dug at the ground with broken fingernails. Loam and moist mud parted readily beneath his rakings. He knew, then, that the spot would suffice. He continued to tear up handfuls of the earth and pile them to the side, next to the largest root, while rounding out a mild hole at the base of the great tree. Soon his hands knew the cling of cold mud and he wiped them hastily on his black jeans.
Finally Alois reached into his messenger bag and pulled from it an old, worn leather collar. The buckle at the front jingled incessantly, a protest to the ceremony at hand. He paused then, collar in both hands, and looked at the brilliant dog tag that reflected the might of the sun. Schatzie, it read, and Alois faltered.
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Posted: Wed Sep 14, 2016 9:54 am
The concrete was pleasantly unforgiving. Rather than sit around and wait for the world to answer her questions, Autumn took the sorrow and the fury out on herself. Running until her lungs burned, and she could barely stand- then running more. The equal parts exhilaration and exhaustion overwhelmed her thoughts, leaving her blissfully unable to think. To feel. To remember.
Around her, fall was beginning. The leaves were turning red as their trees died for the winter, and hints of crisp coolness clung to the air. Autumn, she thought humorlessly. Her season, and yet, she had never felt more alien. A monster in man's clothing. Running from the realization in saving someone, she'd just damned everyone else.
The snare in her thoughts proved equally fatal to her running, and Autumn stumbled. Barely caught herself from a formal introduction of her face to the concrete. Part of her wondered- wouldn't it have been nice? For the universe to spit back at her its anger, for all she had done wrong?
But then, she looked up. And the universe had sent its penance.
Alois.
Chest hammering from equal parts duress and exhaustion, Autumn had the distinct feeling she needed to turn and leave. This was a private moment, as intimate as sex and as sorrowful as a farewell. She couldn't even remember his name. Unbidden, her legs carried her gently up the hill, and Autumn stopped a ways away, giving Alois his breadth. There was so much to say- too much to properly put into words- and for a moment, Autumn simply wondered. Wouldn't it be best just to walk away? To let him forget her, to have his funeral in peace.
The silence was damning.
"I'm sorry. You- you were right. About everything," the words escaped her, burbling up from the wretched place in her belly with all of her flaws. But she did not look at him. Kept her eyes trained on the upturned earth, the solid reminder of how wrong this had been. How wrong shehad been.
"What was he like?"
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Posted: Thu Sep 15, 2016 7:09 am
The tag of the dog collar clinked in recognition, clarion, and broke what fragile moments accumulated here. Alois did not turn; he knew the voice, knew the paltry apologies stammered out into the cool air. His gaze shifted to the mud where worms wrangled and writhed and wriggled back into their dark little holes. Away from the sun, he thought. Everything here wants to get away from the sun.
„What value is zere in being right when it doesn’t affect anysing? It’s only good for a ******** consolation token to shof’e in people’s faces while saying ‚I told you so‘. Being right didn’t - and doesn’t - do s**t.“ He sighed, the collar lowering toward his dirtied knees.
What could it be but an old man’s mantra when one doesn’t take action with it?
„I’m fine by ze way, sanks for asking. I got forcibly removed by Aleksy and Finn.“ He shifted from his kneel into a crosslegged position. „Zey didn’t seem to buy it when I said I deserved deas’ or eternal slavery. I guess your opinion zere is not widely shared, Autumn.“ While he spoke to the side, his eyes never reached her. They found the solemn bend of trees in the wind, swaying in vigil to the dog’s private burial. No songs of children reached them there.
Is his how you intend to make amends? Asking about a dog you never met? Nails chewed and worried at the leather. „He… Zis was his favorite tree to piss on. Always ze first and last destination on a walk in zis park. If we came up and zere were people picnicing here, or kids playing, he would round ze whole tree and whine at zem a little. We’d go somewhere else, and in ten minutes he was begging to go back to ze tree. It was his tree, you see, and zose people weren’t given his permission to sit zere. ‚How could zey sit zere?‘ he would whine to me, in zis high-pitched woowoo voice. I’d tell him I didn’t know, because zey’re sitting in a treasure trove of dog piss. Not my ideal place for a picnic.“ He smirked slightly, if only for the fold of his lips to catch the tears.
„Sometimes he’d be so well-behaved zat I would let him do what he wanted for a while. I’d visit a coffee shop and he’d lay at my feet ze whole time, looking bored as ever. Dogs don’t hide zose sings. So sometimes I’d tell him ‚okej‘ and he’d get up and wander around a little. Most of ze regulars didn’t mind him. But, if someone took ze lid off zeir coffee cup, he was bound to snatch it up. He did exactly zat once, and it’s how I wound up meeting a drag queen.
„You know… I never understood why people ask about ze dead zey never knew.“
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Posted: Thu Sep 15, 2016 9:25 am
It was hard not to roll her eyes, but this wasn't the time or place. Even Autumn had reverence for the dead. Instead, she listened, considering his words. Why did they ask of the dead? It seemed kind of a mockery, now that she considered it more thoroughly. A sad offering to the loss of life and love.
"I told you, that wasn't what I meant. But I'm not going to argue that right now," She replied, tone firm but without malice. There was no need for a fight, for digging up old wounds unnecessarily. And by the kind of person Alois was, and how fond he and Rabbit both seemed of Ezra, it seemed an argument that would fall on deaf ears.
"I was also... Not in the best place. It doesn't excuse my anger, but that's not who I am. I don't wish ill on anyone, even if they're a stubborn p***k."
That wasn't argumentative, was it? Well. Whatever. She would at least explain herself, if not defend herself and her actions.
But then, that issue. That uncomfortable issue of why they asked after the dead. Autumn mulled it over a moment.
"Probably because it's easier to remember the good times. A moment or solace in grief. And it's... Kind of a peek into the life you never got the privilege of knowing. Of seeing love through someone else's eyes."
She sighed.
"I'm sorry, Alois. For all of it."
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Posted: Thu Sep 15, 2016 5:40 pm
“Ha,“ he responded mirthlessly. „It’s not ze first time I’f heard myself called zat.“ The dog collar bore the same bleary light as Van Gogh’s most famous painting. He blinked, and in an instant it vanished.
„Let me tell you a story, Autumn.“ He dropped the collar into the hole, where it shined back up at him with the blinding face of the sun. With a handful of dirt, he blotted out the everlasting reflection. Worms would find it, he knew - worms and bugs and other decomposers would tear away the leather and return it to the earth. There the metal would lay, soaking a thousand seasons of rain, before it would find a slow and rusted rest. As for his dog… He only wished he knew where the body lay.
„As you can tell from my badly hidden accent, I am not from here. Maybe Vale told you - I come from Saarland. It’s part of Germany. And in Germany, zere’s not a concept called ‚small talk‘. It was one of ze hardest adjustments in coming here. No one said directly what zey meant, but instead had to talk around it for a while until… I don’t know, a sign from God appeared zat zey can speak of what zey wanted. Similarly, zere’s no word for ‚awkward‘ in German. Zere simply isn’t a reason for it - not since we haf’ no small talk.
„I say zis because asking about a dead dog is small talk to me. It’s beside ze point. It’s not to help me remember ze good times - zat is on me - and it isn’t some special privilege to hear about a dog you never met.
„If it’s all because you’re worried about me or somesing, zen come out and say it yourself. Don’t hide behind Schatzie.“
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Posted: Thu Sep 15, 2016 6:21 pm
"Fine. I'm worried about you. I feel like I personally failed all of you, not catching onto the fact that a decent chunk of people going to Other Ashdown got affected. I'm worried because you're all in love with a man you decided was your father who abducted you. I assumed your experience was like mine, and I was so wrong, it hurt a lot of people. I want to make amends, and not let s**t like this happen to you or Rabbit or anyone again."
She folded her arms, staring at him. In reality, she couldn't be mad. Wasn't mad. He'd been through Trauma with a capital T. Beyond that, they hardly knew each other. The guilt festering in her gut was of her own doing, for meeting with a fake Alois and hitting it off. For enabling that traitorous little ******** to live someone else's life, unnoticed. It wasn't on Alois to cater to her smothering care just because she'd spoken to his fake and had a sort-of date?
"Mynn asked me, if I would let him go back, with his being 'better' than the real Rabbit. My answer was no. Whether you want to be a weird gremlin man that never eats, or a pessimistic German a*****e... there's something about you that you give to the world. I might not always agree, and ******** knows I'm not always right- but I wanna remind you that you're worth something. You, Alois The Reigning Pessimist. Not Vale. Not your magic. Just you."
She turned to head down the hill.
"Your phone should have my number, I think. If you ever need anything. I won't bug you with further small talk, but.... please take care of yourself."
The world didn't need more blood-stained soil.
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Posted: Thu Sep 15, 2016 6:41 pm
“Hej.“ He waited just long enough for her to pause before he gathered a fistful of mud and threw it straight at her back. Direct hit, he told himself as it splattered over the skin.
„You don’t get to feel sorry for yourself, Autumn.“ His upper lip peeled back from his teeth as he spoke. „You don’t get to pity yourself, or feel guilty, or feel ashamed. If you failed all of us zen you lost zat privilege ze moment you ******** up.“ He sighed, and pushed himself up from the ground. Blades of grass bent backward and yearned to stand upright beneath their insurmountable burden of mud.
When Alois approached, it was with a few stiff steps. His bone white hands fell limp at his sides and brushed flecks of mud against his jeans. Fingers brushed through his hair in a reflexive action only to smear the wefts back with more mud. His eyes wore the glaring red roots of sorrow, or intoxication - coordination belied the former. „Weren’t you ze one talking about ze force of will to fight back and make yourself better? Weren’t you ze one talking about making ze better choice over ze easier choice? Zat we haf’ to fight back in all of zis? Zen quit ******** copping out! You owe it to him!“ He finished, half turning to jab a finger toward his dog’s half-finished grave.
„Tell me, Autumn - what’s ze difference between guilt and resignation? I’ll tell you - guilt is ze pessimist’s form of resignation. Guilt is what you feel when you know you should be doing somesing greater instead of shitting your responsibilities away wis’ bullshit phrases like ‚you haf‘ my number if you need anysing’. You’re doing ze bare minimum you feel you ever owe anozzer human being as a steward of yourself and a steward of ze world. And you’re doing it all out of self-pity.
„But go on, walk away.“ He fanned her away with a stiff flick of his wrist. „Leaf’ your duties behind.“
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Posted: Thu Sep 15, 2016 6:53 pm
"I'm trying to give you the decency of some space, because no matter what I offer you, it's not what you want and it's not enough. You don't want to talk about what happened, don't want to open up, but when I try to give you space, you get pissed that I'm not reaching out." She wasn't going to get mad, she wasn't. He was grieving. She was here. It was a simple equation, that was all. In through the nose, out through the mouth.
"What is it you want, Alois? Because if you're going to tell me I don't get to ask about anything, then get mad when I have nothing to offer, that's not on me. That's on you." It was hard to keep frustration out of her tone. Something about Alois got under her skin in a way she didn't like. A way that made it hard for her not to feel simultaneously like her father, looming and furious, and herself at six, alone and terrified and so very small. She clenched her fists once, twice. Let the anger go. He was grieving.
"I genuinely, GENUINELY am telling you, I don't know what you want. I'm not a mind reader. If you push me away, I'm going to go." A hand raised to her hip, manicured fingertips digging just against the edge of her skin. Definitely not furious, definitely not a contrast to the whallop of the mud against her skin.
"So what is it you want, Alois? Because I told you, I'm here. I'm doing what I can without putting myself in my grave. But you don't get to shove me away and have me here, both."
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Posted: Thu Sep 15, 2016 7:07 pm
Alois maintained the uncanny ability of collapsing in on himself. Like a travel umbrella, his shoulders simply sunk and his posture slouched and any commanding presence of his taller stature soon whittled away into a trick of the imagination. Quietly he brushed the mud from his hands, now flaking off as dust under the warm sun.
„I just want you to be better zan me.“ He looked to his hands, where patterns of use wore the mud away to leave ivory skin staring back at him. New-old calluses promised memories of his second father, and all the punishments he ever endured.
„You can speak well, and you know it. You’re smart, and you know it. You haf’ ideals of your own to follow. You try your damndest, and you fail, and you hate yourself for it. You feel guilty for it. Zese are all sings zat I do. It’s all easy road bullshit zat I take to wash my hands of somesing I don’t like. It’s easy to apologize and walk away, but it’s hard as hell to tell someone you’re worried about zem. So zat’s it, alright? I want you to stick to your ideals. I want you to learn from ze mistakes you made and forgif’ yourself for zem. To make somesing of your pain.
„I just want you to do what I can’t. I don’t even know why. Maybe it’s just so zat I feel like I made a difference somehow.“
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Posted: Thu Sep 15, 2016 9:38 pm
It was odd, seeing him as small. Weak. Even in captivity, Alois had been sharp angles and cutting words. Here, he was a broken bird that wanted to fly, knowing it couldn't. It was that desperate hope- the knowing Saint Peter wasn't going to call you- that broke her heart. Outwardly, she did not buckle as Alois had. But inwardly, it was as if Autumn had been shot.
"I've heard," Autumn's voice cracked, and the defensive hand on her hip fell lamely to her side, paralyzed once more by inaction, "that you don't ever say 'I understand' to someone. That it's the worst thing you can offer them, in grief. Because you don't, and you never will. I don't know what you went through. I have guesses, and ideas, but they're just that. Ideas."
Move, she told herself. Do something. Be more than the pretty words and ideals. But was it her place? Was it ever her place?
"You want me to be strong, but- I don't understand how you're so blind to your own strength. You survived, Alois. You came out the other side still breathing. Broken, bent. But Jesus Christ, you're still ******** here."
She barked an awkward laugh, the well of emotions she'd been swallowing lately ripping out of her.
"Do you know how ******** amazing that is? And how terrifying? You're bloodied, and bruised, but you're still fighting. Who ******** cares if you're a d**k about it, there's just. There's not that many people who could come out the other side of something like that."
Late as ever, Autumn convinced herself to move. A tender hand was laid on Alois's shoulder- not pushing, not pulling, simply there. A reminder that she was there, but more importantly, that he was. That he was here, and alive, and no sack of bones and betrayal could replace him.
"I know that... I'm here for you, let me know if you need anything, is the paltry s**t ladies at church offer when your husband dies. But the difference is, I mean it. If you call me at two in the morning asking for macaroni and cheese, I'll bring you every ******** kind the store carries. If you need someone to listen, I've got tea and a sofa and two good ears. Whatever it is that helps you grieve, I mean it when I say I'm here." Her expression was serious, the hint of tears at the corners of her eyes. They'd all been crying so much lately. Too much. And yet, it was never enough. Not for the things they'd seen, that they were never meant to see.
"You just have to let me know what you need. I can't promise I can save you, or really even help you, but ******** if that doesn't mean I'm not gonna keep trying."
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Posted: Fri Sep 16, 2016 10:44 am
“I survived because someone dragged me out of zat Court by ze neck and because my fetch committed suicide by stabbing Melany. It had nossing to do wis’ my own strengs’. I wish it did.“ Sighing through his nose, Alois pilfered his pockets for a fresh cigarette. After piercing the frown with it, he lit up with an old, beaten lighter. A brief drag, and he blew into the wind. Mud stained the white, white paper.
„But ze fight’s changed. I’m fighting to understand a world zat’s completely foreign to me now.“ He squinted into the distance. „I’m fighting to find a place in it, too. It’s strange, because…“ He paused, laughed. „It feels more like Vale’s life now. I’m sleeping in a place I don’t recognize, where zere isn’t any memories hung on ze walls or knickknacks hanging about, and I’m returning to a job where it feels like I spend ze day making fetches of animals zat people loved. I never had a problem mounting a grieving family’s cat before, but now I can’t stop sinking of zose disgusting creatures whenever I pull ze skin over a mold.“ Another drag, and the ash was knocked into the wet grass. „My home is gone. My career is jeopardized. I don’t haf’ any friends here, no family eizer. I’m sure zat made Vale’s job a helluva lot easier.“
Alois snorted, then looked to the sky to bar tears from falling. She touched him, and he started. It felt foreign. „s**t,“ he started with a fleck of humor, „my life turned into a country song.“
Starting toward the grave again, he began kicking the piles of mud back into place. None of it looked official enough for his dog. Schatzie deserved something else to it, but what? A headstone? Fat chance of getting one up here. „I’ll be fine eventually.“ I don’t know what I need. „So I’ll call you if I need somesing. In ze mean time, I need to screw up Vale’s life.“ He offered her a thumbs-up without looking at her.
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Posted: Fri Sep 16, 2016 8:22 pm
"I don't mean literal strength, like David and Goliath. I mean the emotional strength to get up and face a shittacular world every day." Which was strength that Autumn herself didn't always possess. Sure, she woke up, got dressed. But some days, that was about it. An afternoon of Kim Kardashian and as much tea as she could stomach did wonders for her nerves, occasionally.
"That's... pretty ******** awful sounding, if I'm honest. And am sorry. But I'd wager you have at least one friend, if you're willing to try. Two, if I can wager a guess on Rabbit." There wasn't more to offer, really. She'd moved to Ashdown, alone and unknown, but it hadn't been on the basis of kidnapping. Nor having her life ruined. Hers was an advent of freedom from the s**t her parents put her through. A new start from her family. To even compare them was first of all idiotic, and second of all, entirely unfair. Autumn didn't have half the claim on misery that Alois did.
And yet, here she was. Unable to sleep, not able to get past herself. Maybe she really did need to work harder at moving past this.
"I mean it, Alois. I don't care how small it is, call or text if you need me. I'm here." And what else was there to say? For her desire to interrupt, and to be there, he DID need the alone time to grieve Schatzie. To come to terms with his own sorrow. Even though his back was turned, Autumn offered him a gentle wave, and turned to head down the hill once more.
"I'll... ...see you."
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