"The Bookworms" Anita asked, tugging one of the flyers off the wall and examining it, asking, "you really couldn't have come up with a name that wasn't simultaneously unappealing and cliche could you?"
"It's just a name," Palmer said, grabbing the flyer from Anita and retaping it to the wall, then standing back and scratching her nose added, "besides, Arthur drew this cute little worm with a book on it for me as our logo. I couldn't say no, he was so proud of it." "He shouldn't be," Anita said, shaking her head. "No, no he really shouldn't be, but he was and I didn't want to hurt his feelings," Palmer said, stuffing the remaining flyers in her bookbag as she and Anita continued down the hall. "This better not interfere with our running schedule," Anita said. "No, it'll be fine, we can still go running," Palmer said, "this is only on Wednesdays twice a month, so. It won't be interfering with anything, don't worry about it. I just needed some kind of other hobby to take my mind off things, and I always liked reading, and I always liked discussing what I was reading with others, so I figured I'd start a book club." "You're such a nerd," Anita said, both girls chuckling. Palmer had, for a good while in high school, hid herself in books. Especially as she and her father had drifted apart, it had been one of the few things she had to distract herself from the gaping hole that was growing between them. The odd thing was that she only even liked reading because he had read to her as a little girl, and then encouraged her to keep on reading by herself, which she did. So even in an effort to not remind herself of him, her only other real hobby was directly connected to him. Palmer began to wonder if she'd ever escape his influence. "Hey!" Arthur said, running up beside Palmer, "I just saw the flyers! They came out really good! Did you see my worm, Anita?" "I don't wanna answer that," Anita said, making them laugh. *** "You're out of bleach," Emily said, standing in the doorway to Regina's bedroom, watching as she folded clothes and put them in her dresser. "Oh, well, I'm going to to the store, I can get some more," Regina said, "were you trying to wash something?" "Yes," Emily said, taking a long drag on her cigarette and then exhaling in the hall behind her, continued, "I wanted to do a deep clean on the things I brought, since I didn't really have much time to wash them well before I left to come here." Regina finished putting her things in the dresser, then turned to face Emily, both women staring at one another but neither one saying a word. Since Emily had shown up, Regina had tried to avoid interacting with her much, just for her own sanity, but it had become increasingly difficult seeing how often she and Emily were alone in the house while Dodie was at school. Regina sat down on the linen cabinet at the foot of the bed, and Emily came into the room, seating herself on it beside her sister in law. After a moment of silence, Emily offered Regina her cigarette, and after another moment of hesitancy, Regina took it and started smoking herself. "God, I haven't had a cigarette in years," Regina said, "I really don't want to start again." "Sometimes a vice is all that helps," Emily said, "like masturbation or alcohol." "I didn't realize masturbation was included in the same tier as alcohol and tobacco," Regina said, laughing as she coughed from the smoke, handing the cigarette back to Emily, who smirked as she took it. "It isn't, it was just an example of vices," Emily replied, "I'm just saying that sometimes it's okay to partake in something again, even if only momentarily, cause it might help you forget about the horrible shit going on around you. Though I suppose, in your case, your vice might be a grocery boy." "Hey," Regina said, still half coughing, "don't give me that. I needed someone to comfort me. One daughter's at college, the other's too wrapped up in her own head and shouldn't have to mother her mom. I needed comforting too, god dammit. Didn't you ever have a time when you just needed someone there?" "Yeah, I did," Emily said, "all the time, in fact, and for a long time that was my brother. Til he started thinking I wasn't worth it, anyway. Don't know what flipped in him, but...anyway, I just wanted you to know you're out of bleach. Also out of dryer sheets. Should I start a list?" Regina laughed and looked at her feet, thinking momentarily as Emily continued smoking. "Are you okay?" Regina asked, "I know nobody asked me that for a while after it happened, but...I wanna ask you how you're doing? He was your brother after all, even if you guys weren't that close anymore. How are you doing?" Emily sighed and thought, tossing some of her behind her as she took another long drag. Was she okay? How had she been? She didn't even know if she could properly answer this, at least not without dragging her brothers name through the mud. After a few moments of pondering, Emily finally sighed and looked at Regina. "Michael was an asshole," she said, surprising Regina as she continued, "unintentionally, but he was. That doesn't mean I'm happy he's dead, for what it's worth. I'd never take pride in anyone's death, unless perhaps they were a particularly massive piece of shit who deserved it. But Michael wasn't that kind of person. When we were close, he was the best brother in the world, but as soon as he pushed me away, I guess I started seeing him for who he really was, and that really opened my eyes to how people actually are as to how we simply perceive them to be. Once you get that distance, even just a little bit, you start to not see everything through rose tinted glasses." Regina nodded, listening, as Emily continued. "Still," she went on, "I guess in a sense, I'm angry, because we won't get the chance to fix that now. Not that he was remotely interested in doing so. Lord knows I reached out dozens of times to get us talking again only to get shut down time and time again, so maybe it's for the best. I don't know. I'm all jumbled up, and honestly that feels the most right." Regina smiled and patted Emily on the leg. "I'll pick up some bleach and dryer sheets when I go to the store," Regina said, "and maybe, just for the hell of it, a 6 pack of cider." "That sounds like a wonderful grocery trip," Emily replied. *** Truth be told, Palmer was not just surprised at the turnout for her book club, but was in fact outright shocked at the attendance. In total, there were 40 students that had signed up since the flyers had gone up, and now, sitting in a room with them - being expected to lead the group - Palmer began to feel the weight of expectation as well as regret for having done this in the first place, despite it being her idea to begin with. Palmer cleared her throat and stood up, waving politely at everyone, smiling. "My name is Palmer Hurks, and I'm the one who started this club. I'm so glad you all were just as interested in books as I am," she said, "um, I'm not gonna lie, I'm pretty shocked at how many people turned up, but I'm also happy to see such a love for literature. I wanted to start this group because I didn't feel like there was really anything else at this school that I belonged to, and there wasn't a book club yet somehow, so I figured I'd take it upon myself to make that a reality." One girl - with very long straight auburn hair and huge glasses, wearing a long plain skirt and a brown sweater with a shirt collar peeking out the top - raised her hand, and Palmer pointed at her. "Uh, I'm not a teacher, you don't have to raise your hands if you wanna talk," Palmer said, laughing, "but maybe we'll get like a bookmark or something everyone can hold when it's their time to speak. Anyway, yes?" "Um," the girl said, pushing her glasses back up her face (as they appeared to be too big for her, and were continually sliding down her nose), "I was...I was wondering how we would maybe facilitate discussion? Do you plan on having us all read the same book and then discuss that or?" Palmer was hit with an immediate realization that others had probably put more thought into this just by attending than she had while arranging it. She actually didn't even have an answer for this girl. "What's your name?" Palmer asked. "E-Elise," the girl said, stuttering. "Well, we could vote on what books to read, maybe try a different genre every time so we're always presented with new things we might not touch ourselves otherwise? Does that sound like a good idea? I know democracy is pretty smiled upon," Palmer said, making everyone laugh gently and nod in agreement. Palmer seated herself once more and clasped her hands on her knees before asking, "So...anyone read anything good lately?" *** "Do you want to talk?" Dr. Burrows asked, and Dodie shook her head, just playing with a plastic horse in the little sandbox in the office. Dr. Burrows crossed her legs and waited, watching. She knew she could prod, but she couldn't outright push, and that when Dodie wanted to speak, she'd finally speak. Mariel asked, "Dodie, if it's okay with you, I'd like to ask you a series of yes or no questions, and all you have to do is nod or shake your head. You don't even have to respond verbally. Would that be alright?" "Okay," Dodie muttered. "Alright," Dr. Burrows said, smiling as she adjusted herself in her chair and got the cap off her pen, preparing the write on the clipboard on her lap, "are you happy with the way life is right now?" Dodie shook her head. "Okay. Were you happy with the way life was before your father...went away?" she asked. Dodie shook her head, which surprised Dr. Burrows. She jotted down something on the pad. "Dodie," Dr. Burrows continued, "...do you miss your father?" Dodie stopped playing, letting the horse drop from her hands and into the sand. She looked down at her fingers, digging into the sand and disappearing, her eyes welling up with tears. "I miss...my sister," she said, "dad was pushing her away, and we were always close, and I was mad at him for pushing her away cause she was my best friend. Now she's at school somewhere and I can't even see her that much, and then dad had to go and die. Now Palmer is upset because dad didn't love her the way he loved me, and I think being around me makes her hurt, so I feel like she avoids me if she can." Dr. Burrows was surprised at this admission, wrote something down, then climbed down off the chair and into the sandbox with Dodie, placing a hand on her back. "You're okay here, you can cry if you need to," she said softly, "nobody is going to judge you or get mad at you for doing so, okay?" "Everyone would get mad at me for not missing dad as much as I miss my sister. It's not like I don't miss him, because I do, but I miss Palmer more. And then when Aunt Emily arrived, we found out that my lunchbox used to be Palmer's, and daddy used to call her Doodlebug, which...who am I if that's true?" Dodie finally started crying, her tears landing in the sand below her as she looked up at Dr. Burrows, her voice low and wavering. "Who am I?" she asked, as she fell against her therapist, who just kindly held her and tried to calm her down. It wasn't exactly progress, but it was a start. *** Palmer was lying on her bed, staring at her ceiling. She was thinking about the book club, she was thinking about Sarah. She was thinking about inviting Sarah to the book club. After all, Sarah loved books. She'd been the one to take her to the hidden bookshop on their first real date. But that would mean opening herself up to criticism. Bringing her relationship fully out into the open, and she wasn't sure if she was ready for that just yet. She rolled onto her side and sighed. Suddenly the phone next to her bed rang, and she reached down eagerly to answer it, expecting Sarah, surprised when it was Dodie instead. "Hello?" Palmer asked, putting the phone to her ear and lying on her back. "Mom put me in therapy," Dodie said. "Wow, she never put me in therapy," Palmer replied, "...are you okay?" "What did you do today?" Dodie asked, avoiding the question outright. "Um," Palmer said, thinking as she twirled the phone cord around her finger, "well, class, obviously, and then I had my first meeting of a book club I started, and that was kinda neat. Though probably nowhere near as interesting as therapy." "Dad used to read bedtime stories to you, didn't he? He did it to me a little, but not much," Dodie said, "maybe he felt he didn't have to cause he was doing so much else with me. Maybe he only did that with you cause he felt guilty about not doing more." "Wow, look at you, a few therapy sessions and you're already a junior psychologist," Palmer said, smirking, making Dodie laugh; Palmer continued, "that's not a bad theory, honestly. Dad would do almost anything to alleviate himself of guilt, especially in regards to me. Remember when he bought me a whole set of fancy designer clothes just cause he didn't find anything for my birthday ON my birthday? He was really kinda terrible about that, honestly." A moment passed as the sisters sat in silence, just listening to one another breath on each end of the receiver. "...will you read me a bedtime story?" Dodie asked, and Palmer smiled. "Anytime," she replied, reaching down and picking up a book that laid next to her bed, "this was actually something I loved a lot when I was your age, and so I brought it to school with me cause it brings me a lot of comfort. It's called 'The Bunny Trail'. It's about two little bunnies who get lost on the way back to their burrow, and the adventures they have along the way there. I think you'll like it." "I do like bunnies," Dodie remarked. As Palmer laid on her back and started to read the little storybook to her sister over the phone, it slowly dawned on her just how much Dodie might actually need her. She wouldn't really open up to their mother, she didn't know Aunt Emily that well, and she might say a thing or two to a therapist but in the end, the person she always seemed to turn to was Palmer. Palmer made the decision then and there to be there more for her little sister, just like she'd done when she was younger, before gong to college. She would give Dodie the love and comfort her own father never gave her after a certain age, because Palmer worried that perhaps he'd have abandoned Dodie emotionally the same way he'd abandoned her, and Dodie deserved better than that. So she read the storybook, then told Dodie that the next weekend, she would come home to see her, and together they would go out with Sarah and have fun. After all, what are big sisters for?
0 Comments
Palmer could feel her fathers hand wrapped tightly around hers as they walked down the street, heading to the elementary school. It was a bright spring morning, and other parents walking their children to school surrounded them as they walked; Palmer skipping while paying no attention to the world around her, her father chuckling at her energy. As they reached the front gate of the school, her father, Michael, stopped her and knelt in front of her, adjusting the ribbons holding her braids together before running his hands down to her shoulders.
"Okay, let's go over it one more time, just like every morning, you remember how it goes?" Michael asked, and Palmer nodded eagerly, making Michael smile, adding, "alright then. Let's go." With that, they said their mantra in unison. "I am special, I am smart, and I have the biggest heart! I give kisses, I give hugs, I am daddy's Doodlebug!" They finished their mantra and then laughed together as Michael pulled his daughter into his chest and squeezed her tight, whispering that he loved her before letting her go and watching her run off to school. Michael stood up and sighed, grimacing. He was doing his best to be a father, even if he never felt like one. Still, that was more effort than most fathers put in, he knew. Especially from personal experience. *** Palmer rolled over and groaned as the sunlight slipped through her blinds, landing on her face. She let her eyes flutter open, then realized Sarah was lying in the bed beside her. Palmer smiled and reached out, pushing her fingers carefully into Sarah's hair, pushing it back from her face. The last few months had been...interesting. Despite never having really had a relationship - particularly with a woman - Palmer found herself incredibly capable of it. She leaned in and kissed Sarah on the nose, which made her groan and squirm, rubbing at her nose, one of her eyes opening, smiling upon spying Palmer. "Oh," Sarah said, her voice weak and groggy, "hiya." "Good morning," Palmer said, running her hand back out from Sarah's hair and pushing her palm on her cheek, "you look so good with bedhead." "Noooo," Sarah said, pulled her sheet up over her head, covering her face, making Palmer laugh. Unfortunately, this morning joy was broken quick, when Palmer realized what day it was. She quickly sat up and spun around, grabbing a pair of pants and tugging them up over her hips before grabbing a shirt from the back of her desk chair. Sarah sat up and watched, confused. "I have to do something," Palmer said, "I'm so so sorry. You can stay here, and I should be back soon!" "Is everything okay?" Sarah asked, and Palmer nodded. "Yes, yes, everything's fine, I just have an errand to run, that's all," Palmer said, grabbing her jacket, just in case, and slipped her shoes on before walking back to the bed, crawling on it and, taking Sarah's face in her hands, kissing her firmly before adding, "just wait for me, yeah?" "Okay, I'll be right here when you get back," Sarah said, grinning, watching Palmer turn and exit. How could she have forgotten about this? This was something she'd been looking forward to for weeks now, it was so important. How could she have almost let it slip by like it was nothing? She just hoped Aunt Emily wasn't too angry with her. *** "These eggs are incredible," Emily said, scooping more onto her fork before lifting them to her mouth and chewing; she glanced over at Adam standing behind the stove, cooking breakfast. He smirked and nodded at her, acknowledging her appreciation of his cooking. Dodie was sitting at the table as well, reading a book while she waited for Adam to finish her breakfast, Blackberry Pancakes. Adam grabbed the coffee pot and poured it into a mug, before taking the pot to the table and refilling Emily's mug. Then he grabbed the first and headed down the hall, towards the bedroom. He entered and found Regina was sitting cross legged on the bed, doing some paperwork when he entered, glancing up at him as he shut the door behind him. "I wish she'd leave," Regina said quietly, "it's been 4 months. How much longer is she planning on staying?" "Well," Adam said, sitting on the bed and handing Regina her coffee as he continued, "I mean, she's grieving too. It was her brother, after all. I know it's not ideal, but I think she deserves the chance for closure as much as anyone else. Still, she could get a hotel at this point, it's true." "She just...she was always like this, it's why we didn't like her," Regina said, lifting the mug to her lips and sipping carefully, "she was always pushing her way into our lives, into her brothers life, because she failed to have one of her own. She was always so desperate to be around Palmer, and later Dodie, and I appreciate the eagerness, don't get me wrong, but they AREN'T her kids." "...so she's pushy? That's basically all it comes down to?" Adam asked, scratching his head, "Cause I'm just trying to make some sense of why she should be so reviled simply for loving her nieces." "It's not that, Adam, fuck," Regina said, "I don't know how to explain it. She's just so attached, when she should find attachments within her own life." "Aren't you always the one fighting for family?" "Yes, and I know she and Michael didn't have the best family life, which is why they were so tight knit for so long," Regina said, setting the mug down on the bedside table and picking her pen up again, "but that isn't an excuse, it's merely an explanation. She needs to find something for herself that isn't us." Adam nodded, leaning across the bed and kissing Regina on the side of the head, making her blush, before he got back off the bed and headed back to the kitchen to finish Dodie's breakfast. When he got there, however, he found that Emily was no longer in the room. He stopped, glancing around the kitchen towards various rooms, when he finally looked at Dodie. "She left," Dodie said, shrugging, "...can I have my pancakes now?" Adam laughed and nodded, walking past her and rubbing her on the top of the head. Palmer hadn't even come into the house. She just parked outside and honked, letting Aunt Emily know she was here. Emily quickly gathered her things before heading out the door and climbing into Palmer's car, the two of them heading off quickly. It was going to be a half hour drive at best, and they didn't want to catch any traffic. Sitting in the passenger seat, Emily pulled her compact from her small leather backpack and looked at her makeup, making Palmer occasionally glance over at her. "Hey, a woman doesn't stop being vain just because she ages," Emily finally said, snapping the compact shut and plopping it back into her purse before adding, "I mean, I can't speak for every woman, but I'm at least self obsessed enough to be honest about it." Palmer chuckled and responded, "Yeah, I know what you mean, I always put on makeup, even if I'm just going to the grocery store." A few minutes passed as Emily tuned the radio, searching for something to listen to and rolling her window down so she could smoke a cigarette. "...are you okay?" Emily asked, and Palmer sighed, shrugging. "I don't know. This whole year has been weird," Palmer said, "...first dad dies, and then I..." Palmer stopped herself, not wanting to reveal too much about herself just yet, but Emily just looked at her, one eyebrow raised, so Palmer exhaled and came up with something else entirely, instead of what she'd originally intended to say. "I lost my virginity recently, and that was definitely an...experience," she said. "I notice there's no qualifiers before the word 'experience'. No 'bad' or 'good'. Just, an experience?" Emily asked, and Palmer shrugged. "Some things in life defy clarification," Palmer said, as she reached forward and turned up the radio. At least Aunt Emily had good taste in music. *** Dodie and Adam were seated in the waiting room of an office, Dodie playing with a little puzzle toy she'd brought with her while Adam read a book. After a short bit, Dodie looked up from her hands and searched around the room, looking at the other kids, before her gaze landed back on Adam, who looked down at her and ruffled her hair, smiling. "Why do I have to come here?" Dodie asked, "I mean...am I in trouble or something?" "Not at all! This is just something your mom thinks will help," Adam said, "and, frankly, I can't blame her. It's been a really hard year for your family, Dodie, and your mom just wants you to have someone to talk to who is separate from the situation. This woman is the most qualified child therapist in the area." "But I don't like talking to people I don't know," Dodie said. "Well, how did you get to know me?" Adam asked, and Dodie hesitated. "...talking to you?" "Exactly! That's all it takes, really. I know it can be frightening, but it's something you have to do if you want to meet new people, or find someone to help you feel better, like in this case. She just wants to hear how you feel, wouldn't it be nice to just be able to talk to someone without worrying how they'll react to you, and instead know from the offset you have their guarantee that they genuinely want to hear you and help you?" Dodie nodded, and Adam patted her back. "That's right," he said, just as the door opened and a woman in a suit, tie and all, stood there, calling Dodie's name. As Adam watched her get up and walk into the office, he couldn't help but feel a tad strange. After all, he'd never really expected to be a father, let alone a father figure, to anyone. But...after meeting Regina, he realized he didn't care what kind of baggage she came with (a joke he often made, since he bagged groceries for a living) because he knew she was so great that her kids would be great too, and as Dodie had proven three times over, he was right. Dodie heard the door shut behind her, and sat on the floor, in a small sandbox the woman had in the room. "Do you like playing in sand?" the woman asked, and Dodie nodded, picking up a bucket and starting to make sand castles; the woman smiled and seated herself, just watching Dodie as she continued, "Dodie, my name is Dr Mariel Burrows. I know this year has been rather difficult for you. Would you like to talk about your father?" Dodie didn't respond, and Mariel nodded, instead opting to just sit back in her chair and watch Dodie play. She knew well enough, seeing kids of all ages every day, that you had to wait for them to want to talk. Nobody ever raised a healthy kid by forcing them to interact with things. *** Inside the workshop, Palmer ran her hand over the stone, admiring its sheen and smooth etched words. Emily stood by her side, smoking yet again, her eyes watering. This was the stone they'd been waiting on for Michael's grave, and now that it was finally here, Palmer couldn't help but feel the reality sink in. "...this is final," Palmer whispered, "this means he's actually gone." "Sweetheart he's been gone a while, a stone doesn't change that," Emily said. "No, but I guess I tricked myself into believing that if we never put a stone on the grave, that somehow he could return," Palmer said, "that maybe he wasn't actually dead. But this is finality. This means he IS dead, and now even that fantasy is gone. I just keep losing things." Emily put her hand on Palmer's back and rubbed gently as she looked at her brothers headstone, trying not to cry. "Why are you still here?" Palmer asked, surprising Aunt Emily. "...what do you mean?" "I mean what I said, literally, why are you still here? Mom doesn't want you here, and dad's gone, and I know you wanted to pay your respects and see us, but why haven't you gone home yet? I'm sorry if that sounds rude, like I'm pushing you to leave, I guess I'm just confused." Emily nodded, putting her cigarette out and stomping it with her boot before sighing, shutting her eyes. "...I was supposed to have a child," Emily quietly said, taking Palmer by surprise as she continued, "I was pregnant when I was in college, and I was supposed to have a child. It was with a boy who ultimately didn't want to be involved, but I didn't care. I wanted to be a mother. I wanted so badly to have a family of my own. Then, when I was 6 months in, I had a miscarriage. It broke me. That isn't hyperbole, either, Palmer. It genuinely broke me. I nearly dropped out of school, but thankfully I didn't. I did become a zombie though. I was there, but I wasn't there, you know? So when your father started his own family, I became increasingly jealous, and I loved being around you when you were little because you were what I was supposed to have. Then he cut me out of his life, and as a result, I even lost access to the closest thing to a child I'd ever get." Palmer felt tears rolling down her face, completely shocked by this admittance of her aunts. "So," Emily continued, "I suppose I'm still here because, despite his efforts, I still love you girls dearly, and still see you as my own. I'm here because I want to be here. I'm not actually here for him," Emily said, looking at Palmer and holding her hand, "I'm here for you." "...throughout this whole thing, nobody has been here for me. I'm the glue who's had to hold everyone together," Palmer whispered, her voice cracking before she fully pushed herself against her aunt, Emily stroking her hair in response as Palmer sobbed, "...my daddy is dead." Emily rested her chin on her nieces head and continued stroking her hair. "You're okay, doodlebug," she said, "I'm here now. I'm here." *** After therapy, Adam took Dodie out for something to eat. Sitting in the diner, each one having dessert without first having a proper lunch instead, Dodie found she didn't really have much of an appetite. Adam scooped his spoon down into his of diner ice cream, lifting it to his mouth when he looked up and across the table at Dodie, surprised by her lack of interest in sweets. "You okay?" he asked. "...maybe I don't want to talk to anyone, did anyone ever think of that?" Dodie asked, surprising him with her bluntness, "why does everyone want me to talk to them? Why can't I just be sad? My dad died. Why can't I just be sad?" Adam set his spoon down and folded his arms, leaning back in the diner booth, clearing his throat. "Dodie, nobody is telling you that you have to talk about anything. We're just giving you options. Your mother just wants you to know that you can talk to someone, if you need to. That's what a therapist is for. For talking when you feel you need to. But nobody is pushing you to do it. It's your decision whether or not to let them hear you. But what happened to you was traumatic, you survived a car wreck, and frankly, I think that would warrant some kind of comment regardless." Dodie pushed her spoon into her bowl and left it there before looking up at Adam, their eyes meeting. "I'd rather talk to you," Dodie whispered, surprising Adam, who smiled. "Well, I'm here," Adam said, "you can talk to me." "And you won't tell my mom?" "Cross my heart," Adam said, making the motion across his chest, making Dodie giggle. "Well," Dodie said, exhaling, "...I wish I'd died instead of my dad. I think people need him more than they need me. Palmer told me that's not true, and that I shouldn't feel that way, but I can't help it. You're not gonna leave us too, are you? Cause I don't think I could take it if you left too. Please don't leave." "Dodie, I'm not going anywhere," Adam said, "I love your mother, I intend to stick around as long as she wants me to. And even if something were to split us up, you could always still talk to me. I care about you, okay? You deserve to feel that sort of comfort, and have that kind of adult to talk to. Okay?" A moment passed, and Dodie nodded. "Good," Adam said, "now your ice cream is gonna melt, and it wasn't cheap, so eat up." *** Palmer and Emily were sitting on the hood of Palmer's car by the graveyard, the headstone in the trunk, as they drank some iced coffee they'd picked up on the way over here. Listening to the wind gently rustle through the leaves, hearing the occasional bird, Palmer couldn't help but notice just how peaceful this space was, as if she suddenly understood the nature of a graveyard in its entirety. "...I just wish I knew why dad and I grew apart," Palmer finally said, "when I was little, he used to walk me to school in the morning, every morning, and we had this phrase we always said before I went in. It went 'I am special, I am smart, and I have the biggest heart! I give kisses, I give hugs, I am daddy's Doodlebug!'. I thought what we had was inseparable, and that it couldn't be broken, but it was, and so easily too, and I don't even know WHY, and I think that lack of an answer is what bothers me the most." "I think you reminded him too much of me," Emily said, "we're not that different, Palmer, that's why I loved being around you when you were little. Because of how similar we were, and are. I think he saw that, and it scared him. It was as if he couldn't escape me no matter how hard he tried." "But why did he hate you so much?" Palmer asked, and Emily shook her head. "...like you, I'll probably never have an answer. I have a million reasons it COULD'VE been, but nothing concrete. And like you, he and I were best friends, and he took care of me cause I was his little sister, but it also broke over time. I think, maybe, he was just incapable of really giving himself fully to someone. Even your mother. Even your sister. I think, and I don't mean this in a mean way, he was just a closed off fairly selfish person who was scared to love anyone. When the people who're supposed to love you, like our parents, don't...it makes you begin to doubt anyone who truly might love you. It doesn't feel genuine, and like you don't deserve it." Palmer nodded, looking at her aunt, who smiled weakly at nothing in particular. "But we do deserve it. He deserved it. Even if he never believed it, he did," Emily said, "I'm sorry he didn't love you the way you needed him to, and I'm sorry that you'll never get the chance to fix that now. You're a great kid, Palmer, and even if he couldn't say it, I'M proud of you." Palmer sighed and rested her head on her aunts shoulder, thinking about Sarah waiting for her back in her dorm. "...Aunt Emily? Please don't say anything to anyone, but I like girls," Palmer said quietly, and Emily chuckled, petting her nieces hair. "Me too, doodlebug, me too," she replied, making Palmer giggle. |