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 Posted: Sun Jun 01, 2014 4:21 pm
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Posted: Sun Jun 01, 2014 4:22 pm
. Anita and Cruz visit Mordekai while he's working at the Kawana Lane farmer's market in Gambino.
▪ ▪ ▪ ▪ ▪
Summers were hell. Near the beginning of the summer was the worst, especially, because they were still neck-deep in gathering up the spring harvest, and they had to prepare everything for the onslaught of farmer's markets cropping up across the county. Hartline Farms was used to the ones in Durem, sure, but Gambino was a risky idea that Stephen was still pretty shaky on. Still, they set up a few agreements with areas here and there-- there was Birch Street near the coast, 4th Street closer to the southern piers, and Kawana Lane somewhere in western Gambino. Fortunately, all of their start-and-end times occurred at different times. The one on Kawana Lane started somewhat earlier than the others, in early April rather than in May or June. There was no arguing it, though, since it was the last month of grouper fish season, and lobster was cropping up again in the market.
Mordekai and Eric were the only two entrusted with running the Hartline booth for Kawana Lane, because they'd stuck around the longest in the farm, but it was still a piss-poor idea, as they already felt pretty understaffed by the time they'd gotten to the site, as the street was far wider and their booth far larger than the ones they were used to in Durem. Fortunately, the one thing they did have plenty of was time-- they arrived at noon for an event that began at 5. In the end, there wasn't even much of a point in that, since they weren't allowed to set up until 3.
Eric decided to make the most of his time in Gambino, which meant ditching Mordekai and leaving to have lunch with his daughter. Mordekai decided not to ask about going with, but it meant either sitting around with Stephen's truck alone or going elsewhere. He spent a while being lost on ideas, until he decided it best to look through his phone to see if anyone he knew was in Gambino. Anita was one of the first names that popped up on his list-- though initially hesitant, he called her.
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Posted: Thu Jun 05, 2014 2:19 am
. Cam picks up Mordekai from Hartline Farms to talk business about his new bar.
▪ ▪ ▪ ▪ ▪
A bright evening during the springtime meant that it wasn't an easy day at Hartline. That was fine-- late April was one of their busiest months, and Mordekai was primed for the job for years. Still, he remembered that Camille was meeting him here today, so he tried to do the brunt of his work out on the field as quickly as possible, which meant praying the irrigation wasn't crapping out again and the crops weren't coated in aphids.
And, blessed be, they weren't, and Mordekai managed to pack up and get ready to leave from work an hour earlier than usual. Like Cam had anticipated, he was waiting out by the front of the farm. He was leaning against the wooden gate of a worn-down infrastructure, labeled 'Hartline Farm Store,' which looked a few decorations short of being a plain two-story house. He had a backpack in tow, one kids were usually seen with when making their way to grade school. A great dane that blended in against the dirt road sat idly by him, and both Mordekai and his head perked up at the sight of Cam's subaru.
Mordekai was none the wiser to the state of Cam's disarray. With a quirked smile, Mordekai waved toward Cam. "'Ey!" he called out, then walked toward the driver's side. He was unfazed by the display of paraphernalia inside the car-- he was simply excited to see him again.
"How you been?"
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Posted: Thu Jun 05, 2014 2:19 am
. Anita and Cruz visit Mordekai while he's working at the Kawana Lane farmer's market in Gambino.
▪ ▪ ▪ ▪ ▪
Mordekai dropped off food that following Wednesday after the 4th Street market ended, as promised. Fortunately, the 4th Street market began at 2 and ended at 6, which was supremely earlier than the one on Kawana Lane. It meant a decently timed meal for everyone.
When both of them could and wanted to, they made casual calls to go to Starbucks. Most of the time, different days were better for the two, but compromises were made and Saturdays seemed like a good bet. Duncan was fine enough with driving to Gambino more often if Mordekai needed the car, anyway, as it was a good enough excuse as any to see Rebecca and the children.
One of these particular Saturdays, Anita had a different suggestion of venue. Hot coffee seemed a bit silly to her on a beach in the thick of Summer, so she offered an alternative: milkshakes. Whether Mordekai was into that or not, at least there would be ice cold water. The prospect of burgers seemed to get his attention well enough, so they took Duncan's car and headed over to Sand Dollar. It was already past noon and the sun was beating down. Clear skies with hardly a breeze to offset the pounding rays, their only reprieve at the outdoor tables was that all of them were equipped with large umbrellas.
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Posted: Tue Aug 26, 2014 1:43 am
. It's an early morning at Hartline Farms, and Mordekai meets his new co-worker, Damien, who reminds him that they've met somewhere before.
▪ ▪ ▪ ▪ ▪
Stephen was a traditional man. That meant that farm work began at sunrise and ended at sundown, but rarely did he call in workers any earlier than 7 unless it was the summertime. Summertime meant overgrowth and fences covered in flora writhe with curses; summertime meant picking up what spring left them and preparing for the autumn. It meant animals fertile with magic. Though it looked so innocently human from the outside, Hartline Farms was an inwardly strange place.
Now that it was the neck of summer, warmth rose early on the Durem fields, and the first of summertime's early calls were dosed out to any farmhands Stephen knew were available. Mordekai received the call at 4AM and arrived in the next hour. The farmland and store in front of it was only dimly lit by lanterns; the dull sounds of footsteps farther inland was the only thing indicating that other people were present. He locked his bike up at its usual ramp in front of the store, which was connected to the Hartline home. As was routine, he went around the back of the building and knocked on what was the entrance of the house. The surrounding air wafted with the smell of bacon. If he was right about the time, he was a little late, and Stephen was feeding other workers inside.
Mordekai: -he knocks on the door, then peeks through the window beside it to see-
Among the other workers was an extra figure, someone otherwise unaccounted for. From the window, their back was turned and their face obstructed while chewing on a piece of bacon and chatting with Maree. The knock at the door gave a few people pause, but it was the unfamiliar one who threw his hands up and rushed to answer so no one else would have to.
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Posted: Tue Aug 26, 2014 1:43 am
. Damien and Mordekai meet for a late night round of drinks.
▪ ▪ ▪ ▪ ▪
Mordekai: -even though he hadn't quite fallen asleep, yet, he was still in bed and was bleary enough from having closed his eyes; he slowly sits up as his phone vibrates, then gets up from the bed to walk to his desk and pick up his cell. He furrows his brows at the name- “...Merde--” -flips his cell open and puts it to his ear, then tries to brush some hair out of his eyes- “'Ey, Damien...?”
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Posted: Tue Aug 26, 2014 1:44 am
. The sign greeted him with as much friendliness as any cemetery could.
Graceland.
It was settled on a comfortable homey acre near an adjoining park, fenced and gated, cut off, but not neglected. Iron protected it, hills and trees giving character, and all around the circumference of the barred walls were bushes that wanted to make their way inside and greet the denizens.
Saturday afternoon with a clear sky. Durem's weather chose to cooperate late in Summer instead of being willfully overcast like it had for the past week. The distant procession of black just over the hill felt misplaced with no surrounding gloom. One or two umbrellas were still present, carried with in preparation for a dreary atmosphere that was mercilessly denied.
Damien rode his bike up the main road as far as he could. The cemetery's entrance and various pathways were dirt and he decided it best to walk the rest of the way.
Her rumbling engine could wake the dead, after all.
Compared to the dark suits over the hill, Damien looked as out of place among tombstones as a rubber duck. Shin high combat boots, tucked in black slacks, red sleeveless shirt, and sunglasses.
The path took him across from the funeral. He walked by with his hands in his pockets and his head high. Muffled sobbing beneath the soft, clear voice of the priest settled in his stomach like a brick and yet his feet moved as if a weight had been lifted. Damien didn't slow until he neared his destination. By then the tension had ebbed and everything felt easy again.
Damien broke off the path and stepped through the grass, scanning stones as he passed. He wasn't quite sure what he was expecting. Maybe one of those big ornate angels. Instead, she got the usual treatment. Affordable. Damien bent his knees and clasped his hands.
ANNE M KANTOR
June 15, 1973 – October 1, 2011
“Leave with a smile.”
His lips pulled to one side.
”Hey, Poma Mama,” Damien said, fingers calmly roaming over each other, ”Been a while.” His voice was quiet, intimate. He pulled his shades down.
One hand rested atop the headstone, then moved down its polished side. ”Miss me?” He scoffed and hung his head but was quick to right his gaze as if the inscription were her own eyes. ”I missed you like hell. Thought I'd never get to see you again.” Damien's smile softened. His hand stopped on the edge of the stone, thumb brushing its smooth surface. ”Kinda figured, if I got to... this would be the other way around.”
He drew his hand back and laughed. ”That's ******** up. Sorry.”
The air around them was light. Damien perched silently in front of Anne for several minutes as he took in all the details of their surroundings. This was a nice place to sleep.
”Even if you didn't miss me, you're stuck with me for a bit.”
He shifted his weight, pulling his legs out from under and lowering himself to the grass. First he sat with his knees bent and his arms crossed, then he got more comfortable and sprawled on his back atop the grass. The back of his hand brushed between the blades and her stone and, slowly, like caressing her skin, he drew it across them.
”Sky looks nice.” They were laying in bed. She was nestled beside him, under the crook of his arm. He smiled. ”Met your boy again. Workin' with him now, so I see him every day.” The grass was her hair, the stone her cheek. ”He's doin' okay. Misses you.” Damien scoffed and smirked. ”Who doesn't miss you? Sure you know all about that.”
From there he fell quiet. A breeze rustled the surrounding foliage. Overhead he could see the occasional silhouette of a bug or a bird, their accompanying sounds faded as if behind a barrier. Far away, the funeral was over and most of the procession was leaving.
Minutes ticked by before he spoke again, much less moved.
”Hey... you know,” Damien hesitated. He winced, hand on his chest gripping his shirt, then managed a tight smile and an uneasy laugh. ”I lied to you. A lot. About so many things.” His fingers combed through blades of grass while his mouth fought its own forced smile. ”I think you know that. You're smart. You were always smart...” Damien pulled his sunglasses up, resting them atop his head. Steely blue eyes took in the cloud formations above but couldn't discern any shapes. ”I'm sorry I couldn't be more honest. You deserved so much better than that.”
He paused, then laughed and pushed his bangs back. ”Who am I kidding? You had that. He treated you so much better. Everyone did. They loved you right. Keep on loving you right...”
Damien pulled himself up and twisted to face her. Holding himself on one elbow, he smiled and ran his palm over the flat stone. His head rested against it, fiery hair covering up her and Mordekai's shared name. ”I want to give you something... but I ******** up,” he laughed and grabbed the tags dangling around his neck, ”Next time. I'll bring something good next time.”
It was hard for him to tell how much time had passed. Here, with her, time felt infinite and fleeting. Stretched and compressed. Like he should hurry before it runs out – but he wasn't sure he cared if it did.
He pushed to his feet, crouching again for a moment then used Anne's stone to steady his stance. ”It's so good talkin' to you again...” Damien tucked one hand in his pocket, the other brushed across the top of her stone. His eyes read over the epitaph once again. “Leave with a smile.” He obliged. ”I'll see you again, real soon.”
His lips pressed to the back of his hand, palm laid flat atop the headstone. ”Love you, Annie.”
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Posted: Tue Aug 26, 2014 1:44 am
. Cruz, Anita, and Damien join Duncan and Mordekai for Independence Day celebrations.
▪ ▪ ▪ ▪ ▪
i]Barbeque and the promise of fireworks. It was a lot like New Years, really, as not many people were expected to show. The main cadre, Farrer and his group, piled out of the back of Farrer's truck and staggered their way to Duncan's door two hours late. To make up for their tardiness, Farrer was holding a box bigger than last time, stuffed to the brim with fireworks. In his other hand was a plastic bag of poppers, which were brought over especially for Anita and Cruz.
Even without free hands, Farrer was the one to knock on the door, which he accomplished by using his elbows. While Duncan and Mordekai both heard the knocking from the back porch, given that the sliding door was wide open, Mordekai was busy at the grill, and Duncan was clearing away stray ivy from the garden gate. The two men both looked over toward the foyer.
Mordekai: “They actually showed? Wow-- ah, sorry, Anita, Cruz, could y'get that?”
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Posted: Tue Aug 26, 2014 1:46 am
. Duncan and Mordekai go to the beach with some friends, bringing along Damien and meeting the Holmes-Wainwright family.
▪ ▪ ▪ ▪ ▪
Mordekai left from the driver's seat soon after everyone from the back spilled out of the car. Duncan took a moment to look at his phone and text Leigh about her whereabouts.
Mordekai leaned against the side of the car and breathed in the Gambino air. He looked over at Damien and laughed, brows quirked. "Yeah, das right, alla time. Beautiful, ain't it?" He walked to the back of the car, and unlocked the trunk; he glanced over at Anita and Cruz, "Yeah, don't worry 'bout unloadin'. We got it."
Duncan left from the front passenger's seat. He got out in time to catch a glimpse of Claire as she walked over. He offered a smile and a wave. "Hello!" He walked around the bend of the car to greet her properly, "It's good to see you again, Mrs. Holmes! Are you well?"
Mordekai grinned at Claire as well; "'Ey!" he called out, though his attention drifted toward Aaron, Ivy, and Misha; he waved toward them, laughed, and walked over to Tango to kneel and greet him. "Ride treat you okay? Y'gotta friend jus' over there." He stood back up to start gathering items from the trunk.
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Posted: Tue Aug 26, 2014 1:46 am
. Duncan hosts another garden meet between Rebecca, her children, Cruz, and Anita, but with the addition of Mordekai's company.
▪ ▪ ▪ ▪ ▪
Mordekai kept himself busy at the kitchen and took a few bites to eat between brunch preparation-- along with the pancakes were Duncan's usual toast and eggs and sausages, made more at Mordekai's behest than his. By the time things were slowing down in terms of cooking, and a hilltop of pancakes were at the ready on the dining table, Mordekai took a break to eat from his plate at he counter. He looked up from his cup of water at Anita's compliment and thanks with a glowing smile. "Oh-- 'course! Glad you like 'em."
The blond's smile continued to linger as he refocused on eating his food. Duncan looked between Anita and Mordekai both, then to Cruz, whose grin caused the older man to brighten up himself. He set his tea down to glance at the clock across the television; it was just past the afternoon, which meant Rebecca and the kids were slightly late. How unusual. With upturned brows, Duncan turned back to the Frei to respond with some uncertainty. "They should be here soon," he lifted the teapot to measure the water, then stood to walk to the counter, "I'll be sure to give them a call if they aren't here by one."
As if summoned, someone rang at the bell. Duncan and Mordekai both glanced up from what they were doing, one filling the teapot with water and the other eating. Duncan set his teapot down at the counter while Mordekai pulled out of his chair; "I'll get it," Duncan assured. Mordekai nodded while chewing on a bit of pancake and watched Duncan walk to the foyer nonetheless. He only turned back toward his food once Duncan opened the door.
"Hello!" Rebecca's voice could be heard clearly from the entrance. She was standing, primly dressed with both of her children at either side of her. "It's so good to see you," she managed; Duncan laughed warmly as Rebecca pulled him in for a hug.
"Oh, it's great seeing you, too!" Duncan stood back from the entrance to allow Rebecca and her children to walk inside. Jillette and Jerri both teetered toward the edge of the foyer to see if the rumors were correct-- that both Cruz and Anita were there. As soon as they both spotted a glimpse of green, they hurried forward.
"How have you been?" Rebecca continued, initially unaware-- as soon as caught the two starting their way into the kitchen without her, she called out, her tone impatient. "Kids, what do you say to Uncle Clarke?"
Jillette was the first to glance back. She smiled, cheeks red, and waved toward Duncan. "Hi, uncle. Thank you for inviting us over."
Jerri followed with much the same. "Hi, uncle."
And, with that, the two kids ran to the kitchen, with Rebecca and Duncan following slowly behind with their own conversation in tow. Mordekai laughed as Jerri and Jillette both launched themselves at the Frei, their arms extended to give Cruz a tight hug.
"Cruz!!"
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Posted: Tue Aug 26, 2014 1:47 am
. Years ago, before Mordekai had moved in with him, Duncan made the decision to move all of his assortments out of the master’s bedroom and relocate himself to the much smaller quarters closer to the staircase. There was a practical reason for it; there seemed to be much bigger pool of tenants-in-wait that were interested in the accommodations that the master’s bedroom had to provide, with its breezy windows and attached bathroom. But, without doubt, what drove Duncan to move to a smaller chambers wasn’t that - the space simply felt too expansive without another presence there, and the emptiness of the house had already threatened to swallow Duncan whole. For a time, the narrowness of his small room and the closeness of the bookshelves to his table gave him some degree of comfort.
Even when Mordekai did move in, and Duncan stopped accepting tenants into his spotless master’s bedroom, Duncan stayed in his cozy half-office half-bedroom. His son-in-law chose to occupy the bedroom just next to it, the two rooms bisected only by a common bathroom. Some nights, the two men often retired to their separate quarters together, offering each other farewells until they crossed paths for breakfast or supper the next day, if their schedules allowed. Such was routine, and Duncan appreciated it very much. After seeing off Anita and Cruz, then Rebecca and her children shortly after, the two men followed this same routine on a late and humble evening in late July.
Duncan felt abuzz with contentment after an afternoon at the gardens with loved ones gone successful, and Mordekai seemed aglow in all his bliss; he hummed when he walked and smiled easily, mood unfaltering since he’d made flower chains with their guests. He wore one around his wrist, alongside the friendship bracelet Jillette had found for him. It was an infectious kind of bliss, and though it was clear the two men were spent for the night, Duncan wondered why Mordekai was retiring at the same hour that he was. Mordekai, when he was particularly happy, always had a habit of wandering into the woods for a stroll.
Two years ago, the very habit used to keep Duncan awake in his worry while waiting for Mordekai to return. Now, it was yet another routine he was used to.
Smiling fondly and a tad unsurely at his son-in-law, Duncan let out a small breath. “Have a good night, son,” he said, and Mordekai waved at him with a grin.
“‘Ave a good night, Duncan.” Mordekai yawned, opening the entrance to his bedroom with a simple nudge. After a stretch, he glanced inside, expecting nothing out of the ordinary in his mess of a room. “Oh. s**t,” he laughed, having been proved wrong.
“What is it?” Duncan asked, leaning away from his own room to try and peer into Mordekai’s. The bathroom occupying the space between them was still to wide for a simple glimpse, and he walked toward the blond, who pushed the door open wider for Duncan to see.
“Come look. Guess Jill got too excited,” Mordekai replied, amused, venturing into his bedroom as Duncan got closer. Unlike Mordekai, Duncan wasn’t quite so entertained by the colorful spew of toys and trinkets that were now splayed out on the floor. Next to the mess was a tipped over cardboard box that Duncan could only assume it was all from - the tape label with ‘STUFF’ written on it certainly helped his assumption.
“Oh. Goodness.” Duncan sat next to Mordekai on the only stretch of floor that was free of Stuff, which was a very thin and very narrow place indeed. Upon closer inspection and scrutiny, Duncan could recognize some of the items now on the floor, namely the delicate picture frames that managed to resist breaking. “Have you always this box with you?” Duncan asked, picking up one of the pictures in mind. The picture was of Annie in her much younger days, well before the dawn of her middle school years, in a plain oval-shaped frame. Duncan smiled.
“Nah. Uh, I went to storage the other day.” While Duncan admired the photo of young Annie, Mordekai knelt forward to collect a bulk of the trinkets in his hands, dragging them towards them. “Figured I could start gettin’ some stuff for the baby room. The important stuff, you know?”
Duncan set the photo back down on the pile. “I see. That’s very sweet of you,” Duncan smiled. One of the bigger items in the pile was a friendship board, wooden, worn, and well-loved. “Is that Jocelyn’s?”
“Yeah, it’s Josie’s. Jill used it too, way later.” Mordekai held his hand up, waving it slightly to jostle the bracelets on his wrist. One of them was the daisy chain he’d made earlier, and the other was the friendship bracelet Jillette had made him before she could reasonably spell without her mother’s help - years ago, the bracelet was red, but was now a faded and dusty pink. “S’a buncha hand-me-downs in there. Look at all the other ones.”
Mordekai easily picked the other friendship bracelets out of the pile, and Duncan remembered when they were made clearer with one he saw. Josie, during the first year of Mordekai and Annie’s marriage, weaved the first few bracelets with Annie’s help, spelling out some names with beads. ‘JOSIE,’ ‘ANNIE,’ ‘JO,’ and ‘UNCLE DUNCAN’ were the first ones; it was 1997, and Josie was only five years old. Later, in 2007, Josie was 15 and gave away all of her childish things to her younger sister, who completed the set - ‘JERRI,’ ‘MOM,’ ‘MORDECAI.’
They’d seen Jocelyn for only a short while in Thanksgiving, and it seemed like she had turned 22 in a blink of an eye. Jill, too, was now already 12 years old. Duncan smiled with fondness at the memories of them both, but a shudder also went through him - it was always a horror to an old man like him at how quickly time passed.
“And this? I was wondering where it went.” Duncan held up an undone bowtie, patterned in plaid, for Mordekai to see; in 2000, for Duncan’s 55th birthday, Annie had gifted him it to help him match his son-in-law for a particularly awkward birthday photo. The two were arguing over something neither men could scarcely remember the subject of, anymore, and the shared embarrassment helped cool their fires some. “I wonder where that photo went.”
“Really wish I knew. But that ain’t for the baby room, figure you wanted it back.” Tentatively, the master’s room had taken on the responsibility of the baby room, and Duncan had since worried about it being too empty. Chuckling, Mordekai presented Duncan with a small white box between both of his palms. “Here’s somethin’ for ya. Remember this?”
Duncan could recognize the small chest immediately - it was the old ballerina box Cerise had given Annie so long ago. “Oh, no,” he said, brows curling as a warmth filled his chest. Slowly, Mordekai opened the box, revealing the ballerina still twirling on her small dais in front of a lifetime of small trinkets. The ballerina box had long lost its music, when Annie was an infant, but Duncan could hear the melody was clearly as day. Annie was a sentimental type, and there was a little bit of everyone in that box of hers, attached to memories she kept close to her heart:
A stray Rider-Waite tarot card from Cerise, laminated and crinkled; when Annie was five, Cerise had told her how much The Sun reminded her of Annie, and Annie kept the card near her for life, even though she never understood Tarot reading herself. She only knew that her mother loved it, and read for all of her students. Annie, on the other hand, kept The Sun as a bookmark, rereading her favorite novels again and again just to use it.
When Annie graduated high school, she took a photo with Duncan to commemorate the occasion - school was a miserable experience for her, and she was endlessly glad it was over. At the time, Annie had cut her hair shorter than Duncan ever wished to see, but she was happy about it and it meant he was, too. She kept a copy of the photograph that was small enough to fit in a wallet, but it never left the ballerina box.
There were also several pairs of earrings, given to Annie every other holiday by her Bellamy aunts and uncles, who visited every once in a while from every corner of the world: New Hampshire, Ireland, Spain, Hong Kong, and South Africa, to name a few. The habit of gifting Annie earrings started when she was seven, even though she only got around to piercing her ears when she was ten.
Josie, who Annie always joked was her daughter, learned how to make paper cranes all by herself. In doing so, she always made some for Annie every time she visited, and Annie made sure to keep every single one in perfect condition. One time, Josie promised to make her one thousand exactly, which she dutifully explained was enough to make one whole wish come true. Though Josie never got around to fulfilling that promise, Annie loved the ten cranes she did make for her.
Later, when Jill and Jerri were six years old, they colored on their older sister’s cranes with an 8-pack of Crayola crayons. Annie kept the crayons with her, too, even though they were scarcely more than little nubs in a tattered old box by the time the two were done with it.
Johan, when he was seventeen and was hired at his first job at the Queen’s Cup, treated Annie to a celebratory trip to the movie theatre, and they watched Titantic together. Johan hated it, and Annie loved it enough to keep her ticket, and the ink had long started to fade off of the paper.
Mordekai, before he knew any of the Clarkes, had a rusty coin necklace he always kept in his old leather jacket. He thought he lost it way back when, and when it was still in his pocket, he showed it to Annie before insisting that he throw it away. Annie kept it instead.
For Annie, throwing things away was as hard as throwing away people; it was almost impossible.
Breathing in, Duncan took a moment to remember it all. He took the ballerina box from Mordekai, closed it, and smoothed his palm over the top of the box. “Thank you. For collecting all this,” he gently placed the box on the floor, “It’ll be perfect in the baby room.”
“S’no big. Just hope the baby girl likes ‘em,” Mordekai replied, and with a breath he smiled wide. Baby girl. Duncan had sat unknowing of who or what the Raevan would be like for years, but on Christmas he’d returned home with some clarity - and, for the first time since then, Mordekai let the news sink in. “Jeeze. Don’t really matter, girl or not, but-- that means we had a lotta stuff ready for her. That’s awesome. Even found summa Annie’s old baby clothes. Wanna see ‘em?”
Without waiting on a response, Mordekai turned toward his bed, folding the blankets up onto the mattress. Underneath his creaky and uncomfortable bedframe were several boxes Duncan had only barely noticed were there before. There were even more boxes down there than he recalled Mordekai ever having enough possessions to require.
“Of course I would. You must have spent a long time at the unit,” Duncan mused. Of course, Annie provided in possessions and memorabilia aplenty where Mordekai could not, but all of it was crammed into a storage unit in Durem.
“Not long long-- ahah.” Mordekai pulled a large box out from beneath his bed; like the ‘STUFF’ box, the box was labeled aptly as ‘SMALL CLOTHES.’ “Anyway, this was all inna box already.” It didn’t take much effort for Mordekai to rip the duct tape and lids up to reveal the container’s contents. Inside was, true to the box’s name, small clothes - more accurately, it was mostly small dresses.
“All of these were from when Annie was a little girl. Cerise made most of these,” Duncan noted, shuffling his hands through the wardrobe of Annie’s childhood. When he found a light pink shirt dress with floral patterning, Duncan beamed, lifting it up to admire it against the dimming sunlight. None of the buttons were uniform and new pockets had been sewn on with a navy thread some time ago. “Annie loved this dress the most. You can tell, we had to stitch it up so much.”
“She told me once. She was real happy it survived.” Mordekai unfolded a few dresses on his own, smoothing them out on the floor to inspect them fully, when a thought came across him and his smile fell. “Think she’s gunna fit? Or are these gunna be too big? Too small?”
“I’m not sure. We’ll have to see.” Duncan stored the shirt dress back into its respective box. A moment of silence lingered between the two, and Duncan stared at everything Mordekai had collected. Then, when he looked back to the boxes beneath Mordekai’s bed, Duncan felt his heart skip. All of these trinkets were here to stay, but his son was not.
Perplexed, the words tumbled out of Duncan easily: “Mordekai,” he started slowly; “You didn’t have to do this.”
“I was bored,” Mordekai replied, shrugging. WIth a wry smile, he held a sundress aloft; there was a rip at the seam around the waist. “Oh, this one’s gotta hole in it.”
“Bored,” Duncan repeated, emptily. He watched as Mordekai rested the sundress on the floor, rising to his feet to search through his cluttered table. “You said something to me back in Thanksgiving, Mordekai, and I’ve been thinking about it since...” Duncan paused, glancing at Mordekai’s back, unsure of how to continue.
“What, that I wanted to be a dad?” Mordekai replied, continuing for him, which stirred Duncan into a slight shock. Mordekai, unfazed, sat back down with him on the floor, a container of sewing needles and thread in hand.
“You remember?” Duncan asked, rather dully.
“I remember plenty how embarrassin’ that was.” Smiling, Mordekai opened the latch of the container, thumbing through the various spools of thread. He glanced back at the sundress; the seams were sewn in white. “But I ain’t touchin’ somethin’ I know I can mess up. Like dadhood.”
“And why would you think you would mess it all up?” Duncan watched as Mordekai, his hands still suffering from that slight tremor, threaded the needle with relative ease.
“‘Cause I kinda have before, plain an’ simple.” Mordekai snapped the end of the thread with his teeth, and Duncan frowned, dissatisfied by his son’s mild replies.
“Those were different times, and this is a different circumstance.”
“Different time, different circumstance, same person. This head of mine’s still not on straight. I’m not gunna make a kid go through that. Ye’know?” Mordekai held the sundress up, folding it inside out in a short motion. Pulling one knee up, he rested the dress against it, holding the cloth near the hole up with the side of his hand. Duncan straightened in his seat, alarmed.
“After all this time, you feel the same?” Duncan asked; unwavering, Mordekai began stitching. “For seventeen years, you’ve been in recovery.”
“Y’call this recovery? I jus’ know I’ve gotta a problem or ten, don’t mean I fixed ‘em,” Mordekai teased, smiling up at Duncan while making quick work of the dress. With his hands occupied, the blond gestured toward the rest of his bedroom with shrug of his shoulders. One glance at his room, Mordekai thought, would remind Duncan of his failings - all he needed to do was glimpse at the bottles strewn about the floor and the desk and near the closet, with liquor bottles emptied and prescription bottles spilled about the table.
And, in part, Mordekai was right, but Duncan didn’t falter. “Then what can I do to help?” Duncan asked, and Mordekai let out a scoff, laughing with an exhausted breath. He stopped just short of pricking his finger with the needle, resting the dress back against his knee.
“Duncan-- I dunno-- I jus’ need you to understand where I’m comin’ from.” Mordekai ran his fingers against the dress, searching for other holes and broken stitches. “Just ‘cause I want somethin’ means I can have it. I’m sure-- it’s hard livin’ with someone like me, for you, an’ it’s gunna be even harder for a kid… I’ve been there. Jo’s been there ‘cause of me. An’ Josie. Don’t need to start keepin’ a tally.”
Mordekai felt a rattle in his chest when he breathed in, and he held it there, staring at the dress. “I’m not doin’ good. If I was, maybe I could help widall this. I’m just--” he breathed out, then continued sewing. “Not.”
Duncan relaxed, but not in good spirits; Mordekai simply reiterated what had been told to him again and again without words, and Duncan knew it was foolish to think that happy moments were a relic to his ailments. “Yet,” Duncan added, a thread of hope still clinging to his voice. “Not yet. But soon.”
“I dunno,” Mordekai murmured, and the two drifted into yet another bout of silence, with Mordekai sewing and Duncan watching.
For Mordekai, it was easy throwing people and things away: that was the fundamental difference between him and Annie. It was easy because he needed to, and because he started throwing things away when he was young; he threw away his family, and his possessions, and his homes, because all of them felt very empty. There were three things he managed to keep for a long time: his mother’s leather jacket, because it kept him warm; his brother, because he needed to keep him safe; and a coin necklace, because he’d wasted so much time on it.
He was living with his mamere at the time, but sometimes his mama would visit and he was always excited about it. His mama and him, they’d travel down to the city by themselves, then his mama would buy him a coke from the corner store and made him promise, always and absolutely, to stay put while she went to a friend’s (for just a wink, she’d add), and gave him eight quarters to spend and occupy his time from morning til evening.
Mordekai always spent time at a diner nearby, and it always seemed to have different waitresses, but they’d always give him a pen to doodle with and he’d spend most of the quarters on a slice of pie. But, one day, he saved one of the quarters and used a pen to make a groove in the quarter, because his aunt Edmée told him that it was gris-gris somethin’ powerful to have a coin necklace on you.
He was never magic enough for gris-gris, Mordekai felt, but as a kid he slowly bore that hole into the quarter, every time his ma picked him up and left him alone and he walked to that diner, and sometimes even after she picked him up from the diners to go home; she was always sad when they went home, and she cried on him, and he was never really sure why. When he could finally see through to the other side of the hole, he learned how to braid some thread to make a necklace of it, and then put a lot of hopes and wishes into that coin. One of those hopes was that she’d stop crying so much, another hope was to understand why; another was to help him with his uncles sometimes.
His mama never visited him often, so it took a long time to finish that necklace; he was ten by the time he finished, and it never really helped him at that point, because he finally accepted that he wasn’t magic enough for gris-gris. Even still, Mordekai gave Johan the coin necklace when Mordekai was thirteen, and Johan was three, when they started living together with their aunt Sabine, because even if it didn’t work on him maybe it could for Johan. Sabine was magic enough to make it work, he thought, and so was Johan; and, for a time, Mordekai thought it was really working. He needed it to when he went away, too, when he was seventeen, because how else was he going to keep Johan safe from hundreds and then thousands of miles away?
Johan gave the quarter back to him when Mordekai returned from the Army. He kept it for him but Johan didn’t need to tell him much to make Mordekai realize the necklace didn’t help at all; Johan was quiet and he was hurt. So, when Mordekai thought he lost it for good when they moved from New Orleans to Aekea, he didn’t care. It was another thing that got thrown wistfully away. And when he found it again, right in his leather jacket, he just tried to throw it away for real.
But Annie was there when he found it, and she wasn’t having any of it, so she kept it for herself - and, Mordekai warned her, it wouldn’t do her much good. For a time she wore it as a second necklace, the other being her wedding ring, and hey: she died.
At this point, Mordekai realized he wasn’t very good at keeping things, or keeping people. He drank, and he was clumsy because of it; things and people had to catch him when he tripped, and it made them very worn and tired. The last person he kept in his life was Annie, and he made her so worn and tired that she died.
He didn’t want that to happen to anyone anymore. So he was going to throw Duncan way from his life, and - piece by piece - this child of his, too, because Mordekai wasn’t good at keeping things good and safe. Luckily, Duncan was.
Mordekai ended that thought with a bemused huff of breath.
“There.” When Mordekai finished his work on the sundress, he held it in front of him, scrutinizing his handiwork. “Maybe I can stick ‘round long enough to fix the rest of these up for ‘er too, get ‘em to fit,” he added; he was satisfied enough with the mending job, and snapped the thread off to tie it closed. “An’ then I’ll visit. But that’s all it’s gotta be.”
“I understand,” Duncan said, wanly. “Well, be it a guest or anything else, Mordekai, you’re always welcome here.”
“Thanks. For respectin’ me,” Mordekai smiled, folding the sundress back up and placing it back in its box. “An’ I’m sorry. If I’m makin’ things hard.”
“So long as you visit, so long as you work on getting better, there’s nothing more I could ask for.” Duncan smiled in turn.
“I’ll try. I’m jus’ not cut out for this dad stuff like you are,” he chuckled, sticking the needle back into its container. “Ah. Not lotsa folks are.”
“I can’t quite stitch up a dress like you can, or weave flower bracelets,” Duncan noted, and Mordekai grinned. With a touch of pride, Mordekai adjusted the daisy chain still resting at his wrist, then untied one of the stems as gently as he could to loosen it.
“This s**t’s all child’s play. You’ll learn quick. Here, I’ll teach you.”
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Posted: Tue Sep 23, 2014 8:28 pm
. Anita offers to drive out to Barton to visit Mordekai, and they drive to a local Starbucks to chat.
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Mordekai was tired, but he was happy. The on-and-off cold from autumn tended to have that effect on him. When Anita contacted him about getting coffee again, though, that sedated feeling seemed to ride away a bit and he was left quietly bursting with excitement to see her again. The days always seemed to grow a little longer in the autumn season, and it felt like it had been ages since they'd last seen each other.
He was sunken into his seat and half-dazed the whole car ride to the cafe, and though he was comfortable and warm in the car and with Anita, he tried to will himself into being more awake and talkative. It half-worked by the time Anita parked and closed the door behind her. Mordekai left the car soon after and looked up, too, at the bone-dry sky. He chuckled.
"Hope so..." He adjusted the beanie on his head and smiled back at Anita, expression a bit muted but genuine. The blond took notice of the empty parking lot and continued forward, his hands stuffed in his jacket pockets-- he walked slowly, to make sure he was walking beside Anita, and hummed. "Seems pretty empty today, huh?"
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Posted: Tue Sep 23, 2014 8:29 pm
. Anita drives Mordekai back home from Starbucks, but they find it difficult to part.
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He smiled with some degree of uncertainty. Storms were always a welcome thing, but this seemed to be an unwelcome exception for the first time in a long while. Storms meant a rough drive for Anita. Alternatively, it meant she had to go sooner than later. It meant no more holding hands-- for weeks, probably. Maybe months.
Mordekai stuffed his free hand in his jacket pocket to reach for his house key-- it jangled when he rustled it and he continued to look up at the sky, unable to will himself into straying too far from the Oldsmobile and toward Duncan's house. Instead, he offered a small smile at Anita, brows upturned. He hung his head after a bit to glance at the ground.
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