Palmer stretched, exhaling, as Arthur handed her her headband. She took it and put it on, then thanked him.
"No thanks necessary," Arthur said, shoving his hands into his coat pockets, his black curly hair bouncing in the wind, "Are you sure this is what you should be doing right now? Shouldn't you be...I don't know...resting?" "No. I need to stay occupied. Focused. Anything to take my mind off everything," Palmer said, as she stared at the girl stretching beside her. Her name was Anita Cook, and Palmer hated her with a passion, but she couldn't understand why. She looked back at Arthur and nodded. "Alright, well, I'm gonna take a seat, get some work done while you run," Arthur said. "You don't wanna go to the library or something?" Palmer asked. "Nah, the fresh air will do me good," Arthur said, turning and heading back to the bleachers. Palmer was incredibly grateful to have Arthur as a friend right now, and she wasn't sure how she would've gotten through the last month without him, honestly. Palmer then looked back at the track ahead of her, and waited for the whistle to ring into the air. As soon as it did, she and Anita took off like a shot, quickly outpacing every other runner there. *** Dodie was standing near her appointed horse in the stables, trying to lift his hooves so she could clean them. Unfortunately, she was still not strong enough. Thankfully, her partner - a teenage girl named Sarah - was there, and she smiled and easily lifted the horses hoof. Dodie knelt and started scraping the stuff from between his shoes. "Thank you," Dodie said quietly. "How are you feeling?" Sarah asked. "...empty," Dodie finally said after a moment of hesitation, "I don't feel good. I don't feel much of anything. I just miss my dad." "I'm sure. I'm so sorry," Sarah said, letting the horses leg down as Dodie stood back up and put the tool back on the wall, then picked up a small brush and started to combing the horses mane. "I like working with Gus, but I only get to do it once a week," Dodie said, "I'd love to own him, but mom doesn't wanna pay for a stable spot, and vet stuff." "Understandable, a horse is a pretty pricey pet," Sarah said, "but isn't it nice that you get to do this once a week at least?" "I guess," Dodie said, shrugging. Sarah felt bad. Ever since her fathers death, Dodie had lost her sense of childlike joy that she used to have, and understandably so, given what had happened. Still, she wished there was some way she could make Dodie feel better. As her partner in their horse training, Sarah often felt partially responsible for the well being of the little girl she was paired with. "How about, instead of me doing the trail riding this week, you do it?" Sarah asked. "Really?" Dodie asked, looking up, "but that's for advanced riders." "Well how you ever gonna become an advanced rider if you don't try it?" Sarah asked. Dodie smiled for the first time in weeks, and this made Sarah feel better. She could stand to give Dodie one of her trail riding days, if it meant making Dodie feel better. Sarah had never lost either of her parents, so she could only imagine what Dodie must be feeling. She couldn't imagine losing her father so suddenly, and so violently. If horse riding was what distracted Dodie and made her feel better, then Sarah felt like it was the least she could do to help her feel happy again. *** Palmer was sitting on the bleachers beside Arthur after the race had ended, and she was drinking from her plastic water bottle while Arthur continued doing course work. After a few minutes, he put his pencil down and looked over at her. "What?" she asked. "You're pretty fast," Arthur said, "did you ever run before coming to college?" "I went for the occasional jog, but otherwise no," Palmer said, "I don't know what's really possessed me to take interest in it now, I guess it's just nice to have a hobby that takes place outdoors for a change. Feels like between course work, classes and general hobbies, I spend most of my time indoors." "All that sitting can't be good for us," Arthur said, reaching behind him and rubbing his lower back, making Palmer chuckle. As they sat there, the girl she'd raced beside, Anita, walked by, checking her nails and not even paying any notice to her surroundings. Palmer felt herself want to shout something mean at her, and couldn't even explain why. She'd never been rude to people for no reason before, especially not other girls. She'd always fancied herself a feminist, always raising other girls up, not putting them down, so this behavior really made her feel bad. "Ya know," Palmer eventually said, "I wonder if I should actually join the track team." "You think you're that interested in running?" Arthur asked, making Palmer shrug. "I mean, what have I got to lose?" Palmer asked, "Besides, give me something physical to do. Exercise is good." "Is it?" "That's what I'm told." Arthur smirked, Palmer herself smiling as she took another long sip from her water bottle. She had never been a part of any teams or clubs in high school, but she could certainly use something to distract herself from how she felt these days, and running felt more or less appropriate, considering she was using it as a literal metaphor to escape her problems. *** Dodie was definitely what would be considered a "horse girl", a hobby her father had all but encouraged. He'd used to come to her training, sit around and watch, encourage her, and she loved having him there. Since his death, her mother had done this a few times, but she more often than not had to run errands instead during the time Dodie was training. Sitting on her bed at home, looking at a large book full of horses, she couldn't help but feel somewhat excited about doing the trail ride that weekend. Suddenly the bedroom door opened and her mother stood there, wiping her hands on a dish towel, like she'd been washing something. "Watcha doin'?" Regina asked. "Looking at horses," Dodie said, "Sarah said I could do her trail ride this weekend." "Well that was really nice of her," Regina said, walking in and sitting down beside Dodie, rubbing her back, "so...what do you want for dinner?" "I don't know. Hamburgers? Can we get fast food?" Dodie asked. "We could. I didn't really wanna cook anyway," Regina said, "Get your coat on and we'll go." Dodie did as she was told. She slipped her shoes back on, pulled her jacket on and together, she and her mother headed out to the car. It was raining lightly, but they didn't mind. Dodie got into the backseat and Regina pulled out of the driveway, then headed toward their favorite fast food place downtown. As they pulled up into the drive through, Dodie peeked out her window and looked at the board, seeing the toys that came with the kids meals, and saw that the toys for the girls were horses. She immediately felt a pang of need. "Can I get a kids meal?" Dodie asked. "You sure? You don't get as much food," Regina asked, looking in the rearview mirror back at her. "Yeah, please," Dodie said. Regina looked over at the board, looking for whatever it was she might want for herself and then spotted the kids meal and realized why Dodie had asked. She smiled to herself and appreciated that Dodie was still such a kid. After they ordered and were given their food, Regina started driving home. Pulling up into the driveway, Regina got out of the car and walked around to Dodie's door, sliding it open only to find Dodie sitting in her seat, holding her horse toy in her hands, choking back tears. "What's wrong?" Regina asked immediately, kneeling to her eye level and stroking her hair. "...I miss dad," she said, and Regina pulled her daughter into her chest, soothing her. "I know baby, I do too," she said. She used to have a father. All she had now were horses. Sure they were nice... ...but they weren't the same. *** Anita Cook was in the locker room, rubbing lotion on her leg, when she saw a pair of feet stop near her. She looked up, her braids falling back behind her as her eyes landed on Palmer, who was standing there watching her. Anita stood fully up and rubbed her hands together. "Can I help you?" she asked. "I hate you and I don't know why and it makes me incredibly upset," Palmer said, being surprisingly direct. "Well," Anita said, putting her hands on her hips, "that does sound upsetting. I don't even know your name, so I can't imagine why you might hate me. We've never even spoken." "I think...I think it's subconscious," Palmer said, leaning against the lockers, "A little over a month ago, my father died. Seeing your parents coming by to cheer you on during your runs, it just...it makes my blood boil. Not only is my father gone, but he was never really all that openly supportive of whatever I did. He was super supportive of my sister, for some reason, and that always made me feel awkward." "I definitely understand feeling awkward right now," Anita said, making Palmer smirk. "I don't wanna hate you. It isn't fair to you, or me. I'm just...I guess I'm weirdly jealous that not only is your father still alive, but he's far more supportive than mine ever was. I guess part of it was my fault. I never really did anything to warrant support. I was never in any clubs or groups or played sports or anything, but still, he could've said he supported whatever my hobbies or interests were, ya know?" Anita pulled her uniform off and pulled her regular shirt on over herself, pulling her braids out from the collar and letting them fall behind her, not interrupting, just listening. "Why did you start running?" Palmer asked. "I just like the feeling," Anita said, shrugging, "I guess I like it because it's a fairly solitary activity. I'm not an introvert or anything, but I'm also not exactly a social butterfly, and I hate playing stuff with others, so this is a good sport for me. I was always kinda athletic, but I always preferred solitary sports, like bowling. Things that don't automatically require a team or a league or whatever." Palmer nodded, looking at her nails. "...why are you running?" Anita asked. "Because I'm a goddamned cliche," Palmer said, "I'm literally using it as a metaphor, because I'm such a trope. How original. Running from my problems..." A moment passed as Anita picked up her own backpack and slung it around her shoulders, then looked back at Palmer. "You wanna come running with me sometime?" Anita asked, "Like, not here at the school, but on an actual run." "...really? Even after I openly admitted I hate you for no valid reason?" Palmer asked. "Least I can do is try and make you like me," Anita said, smiling. Palmer felt warm inside. She'd rarely had any girl friends who actually enjoyed hanging out with her, and since coming to this college the only friend she'd managed to make was Arthur. Seems like perhaps her fathers death did ultimately have a silver lining of some kind. "I'd really appreciate that, yeah," Palmer said. "Walk with me to my class, we'll make a plan," Anita said. Palmer followed Anita out of the locker room and back into the school proper. It'd been so long since she'd actually done something with someone that wasn't grief related, and she felt appreciative of this change of pace. Unfortunately for Palmer, Dodie was having the opposite situation. *** "I don't think she should do your ride," Regina said to Sarah, the two of them standing in the stalls while Sarah brushed her horse. "Why?" Sarah asked. "Because I don't think she's emotionally ready," Regina said, "I don't wanna hold my daughter back from the things that matter to her, but she...she's doing so poorly since her father died and I just don't think it's the right time. If maybe, in a few months, you wanna give her the offer again, then sure, but...not yet. Not right now." Regina looked over her shoulder at the barn doors, seeing in the driveway Dodie sitting in the car and she sighed. "...she wasn't anywhere near ready. My other daughter wasn't ready either, but she's apparently seeming to be more capable of handling this, but Dodie's only in 3rd grade. Her sister's in college. Dodie didn't expect to grow up without a father, and she doesn't know how the world works anymore. When you're that young and something that traumatic happens to you, it turns the world into this terrifying place instead of something curious and wonderful." Sarah nodded, brushing her hair back behind her shoulders and pulling it up into a ponytail. "...I appreciate what you're trying to do, but it just...it isn't the right time," Regina asked. "I understand," Sarah said, "Can I ask you a question?" "Of course." "Were you ready?" Sarah asked, catching Regina by surprise. In the last month or so since her husbands death, she'd been consoled, comforted, and even given plates and plates of food from friends and neighbors. But she'd never really taken a moment to consider whether or not she herself had expected his death either, or if she too were as shocked and potentially traumatized as her daughters were. She chewed her lip for a moment and then shook her head. "No, I really...I really wasn't," she said, "He was my whole life, besides the girls, and...and he was my best friend and..." She lost it. She started crying. She felt Sarah hugging her, and was surprised by this random teenagers generosity and kindness. After a few minutes she managed to recompose herself and finish her sentence, albeit her voice still shaky. "...I'm sorry," she whispered, "I just...I haven't really processed it myself just yet. I've been so busy trying to make Dodie feel better that...that I haven't really had any time to grieve for me, you know? He was the love of my life, and I thought he'd always be here, at least until we were older. I never could've expected that he might not be." "I've never really lost anyone," Sarah said, "but I understand, or at least I'm trying to. If you'd like, my mother does grief counseling. You could talk to her, and probably for free, considering how close Dodie and I work together here." "...that's not a bad idea," Regina said, and then, checking her watch added, "I have to go. I'm sorry." As she turned and began to leave, Sarah watched this poor woman get back into her car and pull away. Sarah had never expected to be involved in something like this. She'd always just assumed she and Dodie would be friends because of their interest in horses - sort of a voluntary big sister situation - and it'd never occurred to her that someday she might become more invested simply because of her proximity. Sarah turned back to the horse and continued brushing, thinking to herself how she would react if she lost one of her parents. Sadly, she didn't have an answer, and she wasn't in any kind of hurry to find out. *** That weekend, Anita drove Palmer up to a small old trail that she liked to use for running. Palmer and Anita both wore tanktops and shorts and sneakers, and Anita told Palmer she'd most likely want to put her hair up, because the worst thing to deal with was hair whipping in your face when you ran. As she parked and the girls got out, Palmer took in the nice clean forest air and shut her eyes. "Smells good out here doesn't it?" Anita asked, and Palmer nodded in agreement. "It does," she said, kneeling down and doing up the velcro on her sneakers. "You ready?" Anita asked. "Ready as I'll ever be," Palmer said. With that, the two girls took off running down the provided paths. What a mantra she was coming to live by, Palmer realized. She was now facing everything with the fact that she was as ready as she'd ever be, and she'd never really be ready, so she'd better get used to winging it. Life kinda sucked like that, but at least she had a running mate.
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Palmer Hurks felt the sun warming her face through her window, and smiled at the feeling it gave her. It wasn't until moments later that she realized she shouldn't be feeling the sun, that the sun meant she had overslept, and, sure enough, as she grabbed her alarm she realized that yes in fact she had overslept and was late for class. Palmer rolled out of bed, combed her hair real quick, threw on a pair of semi dirty jeans and a random t-shirt before grabbing her backpack and rushing out her dorm, heading down the hall to her class. As she briskly headed down the hall, she heard someone come to her side, and looked to see her friend Arthur coming up beside her.
"You too huh?" he asked, pushing his glasses up his nose. "My alarm didn't go off." "Nobody's did. There was a power outage," Arthur said, "One of the girls on the floor above plugged a powerful hair straightener into the wall and blew out the electricity. Everyone's gonna be late." "I can't afford to be late," Palmer said, swishing her long, bright blonde hair back behind her ear, "I've been late far too many times already this year and we're only three weeks into it. If anyone had told me that I would be responsible for my own adulthood I don't think I would've been in such a hurry to get to it." Arthur laughed, and Palmer smiled. She had met Arthur at orientation a few weeks prior, and the two had quickly become friends. Seeing as they'd come from the same town - but somehow hadn't attended the same schools during that entire time - it just made sense to be friends, if nothing else so they wouldn't feel as awkward as they would otherwise in such a new place. As they approached the class, their professor, a tall, young woman (it was hard to believe she was the professor, considering she didn't look much older than Palmer) was standing outside the door, which made Palmer nervous. "Palmer," she said as they got to the door, "You're here." "I know, I'm sorry, the power-" "You have a phone call," the professor said, "You have to go to my office." Palmer and Arthur gave one another a confused look, but Palmer just shrugged and did as she was told. She headed into the room, and then went to the front of the room, which had a small connected office that closed off from the rest of the lecture hall. As the three of them got to the office, the professor, Jenny Marigold, looked at Arthur, almost as if he should just take his seat, but Palmer said she wanted him to wait, so Jenny let it go. Palmer picked up the phone and lifted the receiver to her ear. Everything after that was fuzzy. *** Dodie Hurks couldn't move, and felt her legs pinned by something. It felt cold, rough, like metal. She wanted to scream, but she couldn't muster the strength. She felt exhausted, like she'd just spent the whole day running around. She rolled her head to the side and noticed her father lying there, further down the road, not moving. After a bit, she heard the sirens, and felt hands reaching for her. She drifted off after that, and wouldn't regain consciousness until hours later at the hospital. The last thing she could remember was being in the car, heading to school. She and her dad had stopped for donuts, like they did every morning (something they never told her mom) and were singing along to a musical number from an animated feature. She couldn't even remember the car flipping, and she was pretty sure she didn't scream during the incident. The last thing she remembered seeing before she passed out and woke back up pinned on the road was her father looking at her and smiling. It was almost like he was telling her everything would be okay, even though it was so clear that they wouldn't. When Dodie woke up, she found her mom sitting by her bedside, her eyes red as hell itself. Dodie groaned and tried to move, but her mother quickly quashed that and told her to just rest. "I'm supposed to be at school," Dodie said softly, barely able to speak. "I think they'll excuse you missing today," Regina, her mother, replied, gently pushing Dodie's bangs from her face, adding, "...just take it easy. You just need to take it easy right now and save your strength." Dodie nodded, and shut her eyes again, trying to sleep. Regina looked at her watch and exhaled deeply. She'd called Palmer an hour ago. She knew it was a few hours between there and the college, but she really wished she was already here. She needed to see her other daughter. *** "Are you okay?" Arthur asked, driving Palmer, who was staring deadeyed out the windshield. "...I...don't know," she said quietly, "I don't know how I am. It seems so surreal, like this sort of thing only ever happens in movies or something. You grow up thinking your dad is invincible, but I came to peace with the fact that he wasn't a long time ago, once I was aware of how death worked. It just never occurred to me that I might not have as much time with him as I thought I would." "You don't know that, he was just in an accident, he could be okay," Arthur said, trying to stay optimistic, something Palmer appreciated. "I wanna believe that," she whispered, "...but it's hard to." By the time they arrived at the hospital, three hours later, Palmer and Arthur found her mother sitting in the hallway outside of Dodie's room. Regina looked alright, all things considered, but you could tell from looking at her face that she'd spent the last few hours sobbing hard. Palmer hugged her mom and then introduced Arthur, saying that he drove her here so she wouldn't be alone. Regina thanked him for his kindness. "Where's Dodie?" Palmer asked. "She's in this room behind me. She's okay enough. Her leg is fractured, but she'll be alright in the long run, physically anyway, god willing," Regina said. "Where's dad?" Palmer asked. Regina looked at her hands and didn't answer. "Where's dad?" Palmer asked again, already knowing the answer thanks to her mothers silence, but she still needed to hear it said out loud for it to be real. After a moment Regina looked up at her daughter, and she, for some reason, almost laughed. "He's gone, sweetheart," she said, her voice cracking. The words broke Palmer's heart into pieces, and she stumbled, only being caught by Arthur who was stood behind her and then helped her into a nearby seat. It was a rough day for the Hurks family. *** 3 WEEKS LATER Palmer stood in front of her mirror in her old bedroom, looking at her face, unsure whether it was appropriate or not to wear makeup to a funeral. She put her hands on the desk and looked at the photos she had taped around the vanity mirror; family vacation photos, photos of her and her father during daddy/daughter dances, and things of that nature. Palmer smiled, even if it hurt. She had been trying to process her grief for weeks now, but to no real avail. It simply hurt far too much to admit he was gone. A knock on the door came, and Dodie entered. "Mom wants to know if you're ready," Dodie said. "I'm ready, yeah," Palmer said, "yeah..." She sat on the side of the bed and pulled out a small jewelry box from under the bed, then looked at Dodie and smiled. "Come here," Palmer said, and Dodie, still somewhat limping, stumbled on over to the bed and sat beside her older sister. Palmer opened the box and pulled out the false bottom, taking out a really old piece of jewelry, a pearl bracelet. "What is that?" Dodie asked. "It was grandma's," said Palmer, "You never got to meet her, but she gave me this when I was your age, and I haven't worn it in years. I think you should have it." Dodie held out her wrist and let Palmer put the bracelet on, then she inspected it. "It's pretty!" Dodie said brightly, the first time she'd shown any kind of enthusiasm about anything in the past few weeks. "It is," Palmer said, nodding, "Yeah, and I thought you would like it cause it was kinda close to dad, being that it was grandmas." Dodie kicked her feet, swinging them off the bedside as Palmer stood up and went back to her desk, clipping her bangs back from her face. Dodie looked up and watched her sister primp at the mirror, and then asked "Why didn't I die instead of dad?" "I don't know," Palmer said, "Why would you even ask?" "Because people need him more than they need me," Dodie said, and this statement just about made Palmer cry on the spot. She hide her face and wiped her eyes carefully, then turned and went back to the bed, rubbing her sisters back. "That isn't true at all. Mom and I need you, we love you," she said, "Why would you say something like that?" Dodie shrugged, then leaned against her sister, feeling Palmer's arms tightly around her. "I miss him," Dodie said quietly. "Yeah, me too," Palmer said, kissing the top of her sisters head. The funeral was small, respectable, and somber, as funerals have a tendency to be. Dodie and Palmer sat in the back (being in the front made Dodie nervous, so Palmer agreed they could sit in the back), and whenever anyone came to speak to them, to give their condolences, Palmer always dealt with them so Dodie never had to talk to anyone. Anything she could do to make the day easier for her little sister, Palmer did. Afterwards, during the wake back at the house, Palmer helped her mother downstairs with the food and various refreshments. "I have a newfound respect for people who cater," Palmer said as she stood beside her mother in the living room, making Regina chuckle. "It's a dirty, tough business, yeah," she said, "Have you seen your sister?" "Not since we got home," Palmer said, "She's probably hiding. Today's been hard for her." "I believe it," Regina said, just as another guest came up to speak to her, giving Palmer ample chance to slip away and go search for Dodie. She headed up the stairs, first to her bedroom but didn't find her there. Then she checked her parents bedroom, but nobody was there. However, as she was about to leave, she heard a shuffle from the closet, and she opened it, finding Dodie tucked away, her knees pulled up to her chest, her arms wrapped around them. Palmer climbed into the closet and shut the door behind her. "Do you want a snack?" Palmer asked, but Dodie just shook her head; Palmer smiled, "Remember when mom and dad used to go out on dates when I was in high school, and we'd play hide and seek? You always hid in here. You're pretty easy to find." "I like it in here," Dodie said, "...it smells like dad." "It does, yeah," Palmer said, pulling on one of her fathers suit jackets, bringing the sleeve to her nose and taking a long whiff, "dad smelled funny." Dodie giggled, which made Palmer laugh. The girls had always had a habit of cheering one another up, and it was nice that that tradition had continued, even with Palmer at college now. "When do you have to go back to school?" Dodie asked. "Probably this coming week," Palmer said, "I have extensions because of a family emergency, but I can't miss that much coursework. I'll get too far behind and won't be able to catch up." "I wish you didn't have to go," Dodie said, "It's weird not having you home." "I know. I'm sorry," Palmer said. "...can we talk more?" Dodie asked. "Of course! You can always call me anytime!" Palmer said, "I mean, when we're not in school or whatever, obviously. But of course we can." Palmer and Dodie stayed in the closet for an hour or so, until the house had started to finally see a good chunk of its guests leave, and then went to the entertainment room to watch cartoons. Anything to keep her little sister from losing her innocence was something Palmer felt was important to do. But the thing was...during all of this, nobody had asked how Palmer was. She and her mother had been so invested in making sure Dodie was okay, understandably given how young she was, but nobody had ever stopped to ask Palmer if she was okay. But it was fine. Palmer was always the strong one. She was always okay. Until she wasn't. *** Palmer was sitting in the library, doing homework, when she heard a chair pull out from across from her. She looked up to see Arthur sitting down and setting his bookbag on the table. They smiled politely at one another, and he handed her a candy bar, which she graciously accepted. "Did you buy this for me?" she asked. "No, actually the machine just gave me double, so," Arthur said, "Come on, I'm not that thoughtful." Palmer laughed as she tore the end of the wrapper off with her teeth and bit into the candy. "...so do you need help catching up on anything?" Arthur asked, "Cause I've got all sorts of work aides and whatnot that-" He didn't even get to finish before Palmer was sobbing. He came around the table and put his hand on her shoulder, and she leaned into him, hugging him tightly, crying against him. He didn't say a single thing, he just let her cry. It was the first time since her fathers death that she'd finally let go, and it felt good. A bit embarrassing that it was happening here, in a college library where everyone could see, but she didn't care. She needed to cry, and she was grateful to have Arthur there for that. After she stopped, she wiped her face on her sweater sleeve and exhaled as Arthur went back around to his chair and sat back down. "Thanks," she said quietly, and Arthur smiled warmly. "No problem," he said, the two of them getting to work, not speaking another word about it. *** The first day Dodie went back to school, her mother had to pack her lunch, something her father used to do. As she put her food inside the plastic container, she was puzzled to see, in her husbands easily recognizable handwriting, the word "Doodlebug" on the side of the container. How had she never noticed this before? Dodie came into the kitchen and sat at the table, eating her cereal. "How long has this been here?" Regina asked. "I don't know, since first grade," Dodie said, "Dad put it there." Regina smiled and ran her thumb over the word, nodding to herself. It was something he'd used to call Dodie when she was really little, but hadn't called her that in over a year. She got her composure back and went back to finishing packing the lunchbox, then put it on the table. "Put that in your bookbag," she said as she headed to her bedroom to get dressed. Dodie looked at the word written on the box and she smiled for the first time in weeks. She would always be his Doodlebug, and she was happy that nobody could take that away from her at least. |