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The Landon Legacy - Generation 1 - Chapter Seven: What We Deserve [4.18.17] [TS4]
Arrowleaf
Posts: 3,871 Member
Hey everyone!
The Landon Legacy is my first shot at a Differences in the Family Tree style legacy. This legacy is almost solely plot-driven, with very little game play taken into account.
Disclaimer: The plots of this legacy may involve sexual situations, drugs/alcohol/smoking and other sensitive topics.
Feel free to comment and leave feedback. I want to improve, so any tips, tricks or critiques are welcome!
Prologue - The Farmer - Wordpress // Forums
Chapter 1 - Making Amends - Wordpress // Forums
Chapter 2- Post Mortem - Wordpress // Forums
Chapter Three – Old acquaintance, new connection - Wordpress // Forums
Chapter Four - The Rack - Wordpress // Forums
Chapter Five - Comfort - Wordpress // Forums
Chapter Six - Chapter Six: Freudian Slip - Wordpress // Forums
Chapter Seven - What We Deserve - Wordpress //Forums
The Landon Legacy is my first shot at a Differences in the Family Tree style legacy. This legacy is almost solely plot-driven, with very little game play taken into account.
Disclaimer: The plots of this legacy may involve sexual situations, drugs/alcohol/smoking and other sensitive topics.
Feel free to comment and leave feedback. I want to improve, so any tips, tricks or critiques are welcome!
Prologue - The Farmer - Wordpress // Forums
Chapter 1 - Making Amends - Wordpress // Forums
Chapter 2- Post Mortem - Wordpress // Forums
Chapter Three – Old acquaintance, new connection - Wordpress // Forums
Chapter Four - The Rack - Wordpress // Forums
Chapter Five - Comfort - Wordpress // Forums
Chapter Six - Chapter Six: Freudian Slip - Wordpress // Forums
Chapter Seven - What We Deserve - Wordpress //Forums
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These are simlit stories that I follow and enjoy!
The Curse Legacy by Yushika
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Home.
I never thought that singular word would cause butterflies to wreak havoc on my intestines. After all, for most it brought back happy memories; pleasant smells, warm smiles. Until yesterday it had for me. That was before the phone call. Now all I could picture were lifeless bodies strewn across wooden floors, left to die during a home robbery gone bad. Mr. Dale, my parent's neighbor, had called me from the crime scene. The news of my parent's death must have caused me to go into shock, because I found myself comforting him as the police sirens approached instead of the other way around.
Thankfully, he spared me most of the details.
I forced myself forward, battling through damp grass and towards the brass knob. A deep breath followed by a quick twist revealed the house's innards - surprisingly normal. Disturbingly clean. It was like the tragedy had never even happened.
I clicked the door shut behind me, locking it tight. Even after two years, I could navigate the rooms without thinking. I made my way through the dining room and towards the kitchen taking in every detail as I went. The counters where I used to bake cookies with my mother. The couch my father and I used to watch fishing on. They were pristine, cleaned to perfection by a stranger. It occurred to me that this was odd - I had never paid any entity to clean up the mess that remained after the violent incident - but I was thankful. While I had taken the news well initially, I had fallen apart that night and hadn't fully recovered. I wasn’t capable of mopping up my parent’s blood without falling to bits myself.
I ran my nails over the dining room table, recalling all the meals that had been shared there. Then, it was soaked in red, the liquid coating the top and dripping onto the wooden floors. I blinked and the vision was gone - my imagination mercifully allowing reality in. A deep breath kept the images at bay, and instead I focused on the better times.
Within these walls I had shed more tears over more boys than I’d like to admit, earned more groundings than I thought justified, and received more love than anyone could have ask for.
My parents are what had made this house my home. Without them, it was just a building on a small farm. I had no attachment to it. No obligation to it. I had returned to Willow Creek in order to attend their funeral tomorrow before gathering the documents required to sell the farm.
But then I remembered; the hot sun on my face, the cool dirt between my toes, my father’s wrinkled face smiling down at me. I pictured myself, five-years-old, begging to help with the yearly harvest, hands much too small and legs far too short, as I tottered out after him. And I remembered his deep, gravelly voice, “When you get older, Willow, this will all be yours.” And I had wanted it. Until I learned about short skirts and figured out that not all boys had cooties. Now? Now, I wasn’t sure. I had left this town to start my own life - one full of glamour and public success, where the rules were made up as I went. I had forgotten about the sleepy, simple life I had once craved and replaced it with one full vigor and excitement.
And while the house looked spotless, it was lacking… “Soul.” The words slipped from my lips, swallowed by the darkness that lingered around me.
But that didn’t mean I couldn’t return it to it’s former glory. All it needed was someone to love it, love the land, as much as my father and mother had. And if I had, at one time, loved it then I could certainly learn again.
That was all the encouraging I needed.
As if compelled by fate, I turned on my heels, out into the yard, and wrapped my dainty, manicured fingers around the for sale sign. One. Two. Three quick tugs was all it took to remove it from my yard.
My parents had entrusted their life’s work to me. I would become a farmer.
After all, there is a tradition of that in my family.
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Brittle brown stems drooped from their plots, sad and abandoned in my parent’s absence. I felt my heart drop as bile bubbled up into the back of my throat. I hadn’t even considered that the lush green garden I had grown up in wouldn’t exist. No, I had assumed that I would be managing an already blooming - no, thriving - farm. One full of fresh produce, ready to live off of at a moment’s notice. All such produce was rotten, critters weaving in and out of once vibrant skin.
My fingertips rubbed small circles on my temples, fighting off the impending headache. I had planned on watering flowering plants, harvesting already ripe fruits and veggies. At the very most - sprinkling fertilizer on top of roots, plucking the occasional weed. I had not planned for this.
Pure terror blossomed in my stomach, tendrils of fear slinking their chilled claws across my skin. I never intended to take on such a huge endeavor. Let alone one I was ill equipped to handle. I had no disposable income and what little money my parents had was going towards their funeral costs. I could barely survive the next ten days! Where was I going to get the funds to reinvigorate this piece of -
“Willow?”
My brown eyes scanned the horizon quickly, trying to place the vaguely familiar sound with a face. As soon as I found her the frozen claws of fear melted, leaving me warm in the morning sun.
“Christina!” Caution fell away, replaced by reassurance and excitement, as I called out to her.
Christina had been my best friend since we had been in the womb. Our parents had met at Lamaze class, where they became fast friends. They even went into labor just hours apart from each other. From there Christina and I had been in the same playgroups and preschools. She had been beside me, bright blue eyes full of warmth and humor, all through middle and high school. We had been through a lot together, but when I had left for San Myshuno University she had stayed behind to help run her parent’s shop. That happened four years ago and, like my relationship with my parents, I had let our friendship fall to the wayside.
“I thought that was you!” She exclaimed, pale arms braced against the fence that separated us. Suddenly her expression turned sour, “Oh, I’m sorry about your -”
I raised a hand mid sentence, shaking my head with a sad smile, “It’s not your fault, so please don’t apologize. My mom and dad would have wanted me to be happy,” The dull ache returned to my chest. Tears still pricked at my eyes when I mulled over their deaths; horrible, strangled sobs had whisked me off to sleep last night. When I thought of how they rotted inside of this very building for nearly a month the animosity that seared my veins felt like it could demolish the whole town. But I wasn’t naive, my parents would have preferred me to move on; be happy.
I would try.
“You’re right. They always wanted you to be happy,” Christina’s smile returned, though not as bright as before, “What are you still doing home? I figured you would be at city hall, getting everything in order to sell this place.”
"I'm not selling my home," I found myself picking at my shirt, slightly embarrassed even as Christina's eyes sparkled with warmth at the news, "Not anymore, at least. I decided my place was here, on the farm... Um, if you can call it that anymore." I spared a glance over my shoulder before adverting my gaze quickly. Just the sight caused my pulse to race in fear.
Her eyes widened in shock, or maybe horror, when they focused onto the death and decay that had taken place in my parent’s absence, “Oh goodness, do you need any help, Will?" I didn't have a chance to respond before she launched into her plan, "My parents still run the general store. I'm sure they'll let you use some seeds and fertilizer."
I opened my mouth but quickly shut it. My friend hadn't changed, still bubbly and affectionate. Guilt bit into my skin - for all the times I had ignored a phone call from her, or replied to a text hastily. Despite the spew of memories assaulting me, Christina was beaming, unfazed with the lack of effort I had shown over the past years. Forgiving, loving, accepting. All the qualities that had drawn me to her in the first place shined brightly in that moment.
"Thank you," I whispered, nearly moved to tears as I swung one leg and then the other over the fence that separated us.
Christina house was just two blocks down from my own. She made small talk as we walked, catching me up on the small town gossip that I had missed in the last two years. I tried to focus but my mind kept drifting off. I had so much to do. The funeral was this evening and now I had to find a way to restore my parent's farm - all while being able to pay the bills.
"Will, where are you going?" Christina's voice had a hint of laughter. I had walked right pass her house.
"Jeez, I'm sorry."
I joined her on the front porch. The smell of breakfast drew us in as Christina lead the way. Their home was quaint, and the entry opened up into the dinning room and kitchen combo. From where I was standing I could see Samatha Levitt preparing the decadent food, and on the far side of the home, David Levitt was watching the news.
"Mama, Will is here!" Christina announced our presence with a wave, which I shyly returned as Mrs. Levitt turned to look at us.
"Oh my, I haven't seen you in years. You look lovely, Willow." Mrs. Levitt faced was lit up, excited to have company. I was an only child, and while Christina did have a younger brother, we both had been constantly present in each other's households.
"You should join us for breakfast." Mr. Levitt offered.
"I wouldn't want to be a bother, I have-"
"Not a bother, young lady. Please, help yourself."
I nodded, appreciating them welcoming me back with open arms. Christina and my parents weren't the only ones I had neglected for the past four years - the damage extended to every person I knew from Willow Creek. My self imposed isolation from this town had been thorough.
"'Tina, will you please call Christopher downstairs? He's packing the last of his things."
Christina agreed, but not in the fashion her mother meant. Instead, she strolled to the bottom of the stairs and peered upwards, "'Topher, get downstairs. Mom made breakfast!" I saw Mrs. Levitts petite face scrunch with annoyance but instead of voicing it, she put a plate of pipping hot eggs and bacon in front of me.
"Here you go sweetie. I'm sure you're starving, I doubt there was any food in the house since-" She stopped herself, pale skin blushing, before taking a seat next to me.
I brushed it off, knowing that she also was trying to cope with my family's death. They had been best friends for the last two decades, "I didn't check, but I am sure everything spoiled."
My agreement seemed to ease the tension from her as Christina and Mr. Levitt took their seats at the head of the table. I had just taken my first bite when Christopher reached the base of the stairs. His eyes were a deeper blue than Christina's and his tousled hair was the same chestnut brown as his mother's. He stared at me as he sat down next to his sister, and I found myself feeling self-conscious.
"So, Mama, Willow wanted to ask you something." Christina declared.
“Oh? If you need anything, honey, don't be afraid to ask.”
Christina gestured for me to continue. I swallowed hard, placing my fork down as gently as I could, “I, um, I was hoping you wouldn't mind lending me some seeds and tools. My parent's farm... it's...” I trailed off, the lump in my throat forcing me to chose between silence or choked tears.
“Oh dear, of course. We all heard you were selling the place, though.”
A deep breath steadied my voice, “I was going to, but when I got there last night... I just can't bare the thought.”
Mr and Mrs. Levitt both nodded, “That's great news, honey. Willow Creek was not the same without you. We would love to help you in anyway possible.”
“Once I - once I get the hang of everything, I'll pay you back. I promise.”
“Are you going to use our shop to sell your produce?” Mr. Levitt asked
I hadn't put much thought into it, but I didn't see why not. My parents had sold their produce to the Levitt's as well, “Yes, sir. If you would have them, that is. I'm sure how the quality will be and -”
“Nonsense, it's in your blood. Your parents grew the best produce around,” His praise brought a smile to my lips, “And using our shop is more than enough to pay us back.”
“I'll drop it off tomorrow morning for you, Willow.” Christopher's voice had deepened considerably since the last time I had seen him. His shoulders had widened, arms had filed out. He had been 15 when I left and I was now acutely aware that he was no longer Christina's dorky little brother.
“Thank you so much.”
“No need to thank us. You know you canalways come to us for help.” Christopher stated before stealing a piece of bacon off of Christina's plate. He munched on it loudly as she groaned, threatening him with her fork.
The dining room filled with their banter as Mr and Mrs. Levitt and myself ate in silence. I may have lost my family but it was nice to know I still had a place where I belonged.
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Thank you so much. :]
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Chasing Rainbows: Wordpress // Forums
The Levitt's had wanted to accompany me to the funeral. At the time my spirits had been replenished, and I had told them I would see them there instead. I regretted that decision now.
I took a deep breath to steady my quivering lip as I rummaged through my suitcase. I was twenty-two, and though I was not a child, I had always imagined that my parents would be around for my wedding, my pregnancies, to see their grandchildren grow. Instead they died right before I graduated from San Myshuno University.
“Where is my dress!” Frustration welled up in my stomach as I dumped the contents of my suitcase onto the floor, a loud bang soon resounding as the suitcase flew across the room with every ounce of strength I could muster. The action was supposed to bring me relief. Instead I found myself curled in the pile of clothes, sobbing into them relentless, desperate for some kind of relief.
It took me an hour to gather myself. Another to shower and get dressed. Somehow I made it to the funeral on time, collected, and appropriately dressed.
The old stone church was dimly lit, soft classical music taking the backseat to the chatter of old family friends and acquaintances. I shook hands and forced pained smiles as all eyes turned to me, the whispers growing in intensity as I made my way down the closest isle.
Two coffins were positioned in the back, encompassed by thousands of bright petals. The sight stole my breath. My parents were adored my this community. This display was a testament to that. I had taken them for granted my whole life, but this community hadn't.
As I succumbed to tears again, I felt a hand on my shoulder. Mr. Dale was standing beside me, tears burning his cheek as well. We stood there, silence easing between us, as we mourned their deaths. Eventually the priest came, and I stopped crying long enough to find my pew.
The service was beautiful.
Memories were shared. Laughter breached the morose undercurrent as a celebration of their lives ensued. I couldn't bring myself to speak. I didn't know what to say. I had been an awful daughter these past years - undeserving of the love and compassion they had always given me. I sat there, distant, unable to focus. I couldn't even find the words to thank people as they gave their condolences.
"Willow... why don't you stay over tonight?"Christina offered, voice small and unsure. I just shook my head, eyes hallow, gazing ever forward. I could tell she was conflicted - did I need space or should she insist? - but eventually she seemed to settle on the former, "Okay, but I'll keep my ringer on loud. If you need anything, please, call."
I gave no acknowledgement. She pulled me into a brief hug, and I returned it numbly, before she ambled away.
No one approached me after that. The whispers circled around, until finally they died out all together. I realized that everyone had moved into the foyer to enjoy the refreshments.
Or so I had thought.
"Willow?" My name was a question, the gravelly voice uncharacteristically hesitant. The voice slid around my right side, revealing gray eyes framed by dark lashes, "Willow, I'm sorry to hear about your parents."
"I never know what to say to that. Thank you? Don't be, it's not your fault? What's the proper response, Jay?" The words came flooding out of me, thick on my tongue. Jay and I had dated all through high school. He was ambitious and charismatic, if not big-headed, with a tendency to be impulsive. He looked much how I remembered - blonde, fit with sun-kissed skin - only now stubble lined his square jaw.
"I don't know if there is a improper way," He shrugged, "I mean, there is. You could punch them or call their mom a llama. People tend to get testy when you call their mom a llama. You didn't call someone's mom a llama, did you?"
I laughed for the first time since I had returned, "No, I didn't."
"Good, good. Then I think you're in clear." His gazed rested on the empty space in the pew beside me. I nodded, and he sat next to me, "How are you holding up?"
"You didn't see my melt down earlier?"
"No, I just got here." Jay had never been good at time management, "but I assume that means you aren't holding up well."
I didn't respond. Silence lingered between us, and while lulls in conversation had never bothered me, they had always vexed Jay. His need to fill the void won out quickly, "Listen, we should go get drinks soon. We're both legal now and you need to get out and have fun. We can catch up before you leave."
"Sure," My enthusiasm was lacking, but it didn't hinder the smile spreading across Jay's lips, "probably won't be soon, though. I have a lot to figure out. I'm not leaving."
Flashes of emotions flickered in Jay's steel gray eyes at this news but eventually he nodded, "That's great. You can tell me more over drinks," I couldn't tell if he meant it or not. He glanced behind him, at the gathering towards the front of the church where the rest of the community was conversing over appetizers, "I should go say hello. My number is the same."
"Right, I'll call you," I said as he rose, patting my hand in a final show of compassion. The gesture filled me a moment of warmth, and then I was alone again.
I guess that was just something I would have to get used to now.
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BRRIIINNNG!
The clear chime of the doorbell ripped me from my dreams. A groan escaped my lips, along with a few curse words, as I pulled my comforter over my head.
Surely the visitor would go away.
BRRRRRRRRRRIIIIIIIINNNNNNGGGGGGG!!!!
Or not.
I sighed, braving a peek out at the alarm clock nestled on my night stand. 6 am. Who in their right minds rang someone’s doorbell at 6 am?!
BRRRRRRRRRRRRRIIIIIIIIIIIINNNNNNNNNGGGGGGGGGG!!!!
“Oh Maker, I am coming!” I shouted, throwing the safe haven that was my blankets onto the floor.
Every step closer to the door brought more annoyance to the surface. My eyebrows were knotted, my hair was a mess, and I could feel my lips tugging down. I had never been good at hiding irritation, and while I considered myself fairly level-headed, it had gotten me in trouble before.
I swung the door open, ignoring the smack it made as it slammed shut behind me, and was greeted with Christopher’s unsure gaze.
The anger dissipated as quickly as it had arisen.
“Good mornin’, Willow. I was just droppin’ off some seeds and soil fer you, but I can swing by later.” He was rubbing his neck, as if he was the one who had done something wrong.
“No, no, no. No. I just forgot you were coming today, ‘Topher.” My hands were whipping through the air as I spoke, frantically trying break the tension between us, “You’re doing me a favor, you shouldn’t have to come back. Please, come inside. If you wait just a minute I’ll change, and I’ll help you unload.”
Christopher nodded, following close behind as I lead him into the living room. I patted my sectional, before heading towards the stair, “Just make yourself comfortable, I’ll be right back.”
I practically sprinted to my room as soon as I was out of sight, all previous exhaustion gone from my muscles. On the floor was the pile of clothes, still strewn about and unorganized. I rifled through, stripping as I went, before I tugged on the first simple T-shirt and shorts I could find. It was only spring, but temperatures in the Willow Creek were already well into the 80s.
“Alright, I’m ready.” I called, taking the steps two at a time.
Christopher was right where I left him, standing awkwardly in the foyer, “That was quick. I remember it used to take you hours to get ready.”
I ran a hand through my messy bangs, the rest of my dirty blonde hair already controlled by my signature braid, “It still does.”
“I should have known. Christina still takes forever.” He said.
“I bet she does, her hair is even longer than it was before. Anyways, let’s go.” I clapped my hands together in a show of enthusiasm, brushing past him and back onto the front porch.
His beat up truck was filled with flowers and plants. I paused, unsure if those were all for me and completely overwhelmed if they were. It looked like hundred of different species.
“Don’t worry, I have other stops after you,” He said over his shoulder.
Christopher loaded his tanned arms up with some potted plants after gesturing towards some seed packets that were strewn on his passenger seat, “Oh, wow! I wasn’t expecting to get fully grown crops. This is too much.” But before I had even finished my sentence, Christopher was shushing me and heading towards the small farm behind my house.
“You can’t make money off of seeds fer months, Willow. I wasn’t going to let you starve – or go bankrupt.”
I followed behind him, “I appreciate that, really, but I can’t just take all of this. I have to pay you guys back somehow or – what? What is it?” Christopher’s stunned expression stopped me in my tracks. I followed his line of sight to the garden.
“Everything is dead.” He muttered.
“Oh, um, yeah. I guess I need to clear those out, huh?” I had forgotten about the death and decay.
“Maker, Willow. You’re gonna need help.”
“Yeah, I am gonna need the Maker’s help.” I agreed, but then instantly regretted my decision when he placed his load onto the ground and hopped my fence, “Hey, what are you doing?!”
“I’m here. You need help. I’m helping you.”
I wasn’t nearly as nimble as Christopher, so I headed through the farm gate, “Christopher! I did not mean your help! Maker, I can’t even pay you – put the spade down! You have other deliveries, remember?” I didn’t even know where he had gotten the spade from, but he paid no heed as he began to uproot some of the deceased crops.
“Don’t fret about that. I can do them later. You’re more important right now.” He said.
“Christopher, I -” He looked at me for a minute, blues stern and determined, and I knew there was no talking him out of this, “Alright, fine. But I’m gonna pay you one day.”
“I’ll hold ya to that.”
The sun soon rose to its apex. The two of us had managed to get rid of all the dead crops and had even planted a few of the potted plants he had brought over. We were soaked with sweat, dirt was embedded beneath our nails and grass stains adorned our knees. Christopher wiped his brow with the back of his hand, sitting down among the potatoes and blackberries. I joined him. It was the first break we had taken and I was exhausted. The only reason I hadnt taken one earlier was pride – I wasn’t going to let Christopher work harder than me when he was the guest. It wouldn’t have been right.
I crossed my legs, allowing my muscles to relax, just in time for my stomach to wail. Loudly.
Traiter.
Christopher rose a chestnut brow, “Hungry? We can go grab some grub.”
“I’m actually starving,” I confessed, “but I’m broke. Seriously, if I emptied my pockets right now cobwebs would be involved.”
Christopher chuckled. The sound was deeper than it had been four years ago, “Its on me. Just think of it as two old friends catching up. We can go to that burger place you and Christina used to love.”
“Benny’s?! Maker, its been too long!” I could barely contain my excitement. Christopher made it to his feet before offering me his hand. I took it, feeling my calves quiver as the were forced to carry my weight.
I would never have considered Christopher a friend when I was in highschool. He was my best friends little brother – I had known him since he was in diapers. I knew how annoying he had been, had watched him turn into an awkward pimple riddled teenager.
Now, as he helped me into his truck, I knew I could call him one, “You realize I’m gonna pay you back for the meal too, right?”
“Yeah, yeah.”
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I'm glad you think so! I know it takes some time to gain readers but it can be discouraging not knowing if anyone is actually reading or not, so thank you very much for the kind words. I appreciate it.
Now, off to read your legacy :]
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Sometimes there are those who are too shy to comment. Don't worry, though! This is a great story and you'll get the recognition you deserve soon enough. I'm glad I could provide some encouragement, hun!
Gonna be honest, the gallery confuses me. I've tried to save sims to my library before - and to the gallery - and they never seem to show up. I would be honored if you used her in your legacy, and have no problem uploading her, if I knew how to
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No problem hun!
Oh my, it worked! You are awesome! I uploaded her just now for you, if you want to know any specific CC I have on her, let me know and I will try to track it down for you. :]
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Yay!! No problem, I was confused since that happened to me as well. I thought something was wrong with my game but once I looked it up I was relieved. I'll download her tomorrow! As for the CC, I'll figure out that tomorrow as well and see if she looks wonky in my game or if everything is alright.
I do believe my name on gallery is Arrowleaff. Two fs, because arrowleaf had been taken.
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Thanks, I found her! Buuuuuuut. She's naked and bald in my game.
Hahaha! It's not hassle at all! I'll go into game right now and track down her hair. Her skin is a maxis match skin called 'Matte Face'.
Her main hair and her messy hair in the last chapter.
Her freckles are by pralinesims, if you need those I can find the link!
She also has a nose mask on - it's the adele by burnt waffles!
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Thank you so so much! I'll download them when I get home
No problem! I hope she serves you well in your story! I can't wait to see what she gets into there!
(I thought I replied to this forever ago! Forgive me!)
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I downloaded her CC, she's all good and normal now
(And it's alright hun, happens to the best of us!)
I'm sure you will! I have the utmost faith in you!
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My muscles ached; the dull throbs weighed down my limbs, begging for rest, but I couldn’t sleep. My stomach was doing somersaults, and the bleak darkness that had settled in around me allowed my imagination to run wild. Every time the old home groaned I held my breath. The sounds of nocturnal wildlife brought tears to my eyes. Goosebumps ran up my arms. My eyes darted around the room, certain that something had moved.
I hadn’t noticed it the first night; the funeral had preoccupied my enough, but I knew now.
I was scared of my childhood home.
I tried to reason with myself. The odds of my parent’s murderer coming back was slim. Willow Creek was a relatively crime-free town. No one was here. It was just me.
I took a deep breath; closed my eyes. The shadow was there again. Faceless. Humanoid. Deadly. A strangled cry escaped me as I ripped my comforter off.
Another deep breath. I needed a distraction.
The soft glow of my cell phone cut through the darkness. A few strokes led me to my contacts; scrolling through without any single person in mind. I paused on Christina’s name. She had told me more than once that if I needed anything, she would be there. She wouldn’t mind. I hesitated, then kept scrolling. The next number I stopped on was stored as ‘Mr. Impractical’. It was Jay’s, and I smiled at the memory the nickname evoked. It stemmed from an argument about which of the four elements was best.
He answered on the second ring, “Hello?”
“Hi, Mr. Impractical.” I chimed, trying my best to force all negative thoughts from my mind.
He didn’t miss a beat, “Air isn't an impractical element.”
“It is when you only want it to fly.” I retorted.
“I’m sorry, we don’t all want to control something as boring as water.”
“Water is not boring. Water is life and so many people don’t have clean-”
“What's the matter, Will?”
I stumbled over the interruption, unsure how Jay had caught on so quickly, “Nothing's the matter?”
“Will, I don’t think you’d call me this late at night unless something was the matter.” The silence stretched between us until he sighed, caving in, “Did you want to grab those drinks?”
I glanced over at my alarm clock. The hands read 10:50 pm, “Is there even a bar open this late?”
“🐸🐸🐸🐸, Willow. I know Willow Creek isn’t San Myshuno or anything, but we still have a nightlife.”
“Right. Sorry.”
“It’s fine. After all, when you left the only things we could do were bowling and the movies. Pick you up in thirty?”
“See you in thirty.” I agreed.
___________________
Calling The Rack a dive would have been cordial. It was an old brick building, with red neon signs emblazoning its name into the night. Food wrappers and broken beer bottles littered the unkept parking lot. I follow behind Jay, every step vigilant, as we entered. Once inside, the sour stench of stale beer and nicotine permeated the air, and an untuned guitar screeched from the makeshift stage in the center of the building. I flung my hands over my ears, but the musician kept playing, oblivious.
I realized Jay was talking, but his voice was swallowed in the cacophony of music and chatter. I gave him a quizzical look. He responded by pointing at the bar, which had a plethora of empty beer bottles scattered across its top. They belonged to a couple of middle aged men who had their eyes glued to the sole television, engrossed in a football game, as they puffed on cigarettes.
Jay led the way, taking up post on a stool tucked away in a corner; the one furthest away from the guitarist as possible. I mentally thanked him, as did my ears. He ordered a beer from the black-haired bartender as I sat down next to him, “And whatever the lady wants.”
“A cosmopolitan?” I faltered at the bartender’s blank stare. I should have known; a cursory glance revealed this was not a place that served drinks of the froufrou variety, “I’ll just have what he’s having.”
The dark-haired man turned, reaching into a cooler, before planting two bottles of beer in front of us. Jay popped the caps off our drinks and then held out the chilled beverage for me. We clinked bottles before Jay chugged his down; I sipped mine, nose crinkling as the bitter liquid slid down my throat.
“Haven’t acquired a taste for beer yet?” The amusement in his voice was as clear as the disgust on my face.
I frowned, and the felt crinkle between my eyes deepen, “Stop teasing me. I hate it and you know it.”
“Come on, Will! You’ve been in the city for four long years, I thought you’d have tougher skin by now.” Part of me knew that Jay was joking; there was a smile on his lips, his eyes were bright and mischievous, and he had already ordered his second drink. The other half was annoyed, and it was this part of myself that I felt clawing to the surface.
“Four long years and you’re still a child, I thought being an adult would have solved that by now.” I chugged my beer to distract myself from the crestfallen expression that my mocking had inspired.
“🐸🐸🐸🐸, Will,” Jay’s voice was barely audible over the racket taking place around us, “I was just trying to cheer you up.”
“I know, I know,” I sighed, “I’m sorry. It’s just…”
Jay waited for me to finish, and when I didn’t he was quick to prod me for more, “Just what, Will? Is it your parents?”
“No. I mean, yes. Yes and no.” I paused, collecting my thoughts, “Of course my parents death is bothering me. There’s so much I would do different if I could - with them, with Christina, with you-”
“Me?” He pointed to himself, eyebrows raised.
“Yes, you. I was so focused on myself, on my dream of becoming a doctor, that I never thought about how it effected anyone else. Hell, that’s not even true. I knew, I just didn’t care. I was selfish and it’s my fault that they-”
“Whoa, whoa, Will,” He waved his empty hand around, interrupting my word vomit, “I don’t blame you for breaking up with me when you left for college. I was mad at the time because I loved you, ya know, but you were right; long distance wouldn’t have worked. And your parents were proud, Will! They loved you and knew how hard you were working. They bragged about you every chance they got. You were busy living your life, and they got it. Alright? Everyone got it. You couldn’t have stopped what happened. It’s not your fault.”
I buried my face in my hands, sobs racking my frame, as Jay’s large hand came to rest on the small of my back. I leaned forward, trying to hide from his sight while his fingertips rubbed circles through my cardigan. It took me several minutes to collect myself, and I desperately clung to Jay’s words in order to do so. I hadn’t realized how badly I needed to hear that it wasn’t my fault; that my parents had been proud. When I finally raised my head, Jay’s sad smile was there to greet me, “There she is.”
“Here I am.”
He laughed, finishing his third beer, “Feeling better? Anything else you need to get off that ample chest?”
I flushed, swatting his arm, “Shut up!”
“Seriously, Will. You can tell me anything. You know I care about you.”
“There is one more thing…” I trailed off, unsure if I should tell him what had prompted the late night phone call.
“Well, what are you waiting for?” He asked as another drink arrived.
“It’s embarrassing.”
“You just cried in public - I think we’re past embarrassing.” He nursed his beer as he spoke, but that didn’t hide the grin he was sporting.
“Maker, you’re really obnoxious, you know that?”
Jay shrugged, “So, what it is?”
“I'm afraid.”
“What?”
“I'm afraid,” I repeated, “afraid of my house. I… think I hear people downstairs but no one is. When I close my eyes I see… it… happen.”
“Stay with me.”
“What?”
“Stay with me. At least for tonight,” I stared at him, incredulous, until he continued, “I’ll play you for it.”
“Are you kidding me?”
“Not at all. Your choice: Darts or Foosball?” Jay chugged the last of his bottle before standing, slightly off balance, and heading to the other side of The Rack. Unsure if I really had a choice, I followed close behind.
We played darts, not because I thought I was good, but in hopes that Jay's obvious intoxication would impede his performance. Drunk or not, Jay decimated me - I was lucky to have hit the target anywhere, let alone a bulls-eye.
“I win!” Jay’s excitement at this accomplishment was endearing, “You gotta stay with me tonight.” His gloating was not.
It was for the best, I quickly decided, that I sleep over Jay’s house tonight. Six beers into the night would make anyone in need of a designated driver. “Give me your keys.” I conceded. He handed it over without argument, along with his wallet.
“Just in case I pass out, you can GPS my address.” He explained.
Jay managed to to get out of the bar and into his old blue sedan without much trouble, and despite the faith he lacked in himself, he did stay conscious the whole drive home. In fact, he sang along to the radio, all inhibition lost.
When we pulled into his driveway, the headlights illuminated a quaint country cottage located a few miles away from downtown Willow Creek. The lawn was maintained, and Jay motioned his hands in front of him as if the building was on display, “Welcome to my abode.” His words were slurred and he stumbled out onto the driveway.
I couldn't help but wonder what Jay did for a living. I had been selfish all evening, only talking about myself and my problems, that I realized I had no clue how Jay's life had changed in those four years since we had called it quits.
“Very cute.” I remarked, holding out my arm so he could steady himself. He latched on, following me to the front door. It was unlocked, and while it was normal for doors to be left unlocked in Willow Creek, I made a mental note to check all the entrances before I went to sleep.
“Come on, let’s get you into bed.”
“This way!” Jay hadn’t lowered his voice since we left the bar, and without the ruckus to drown him out, he was simply shouting now.
“Shhhh, Jay, you’ll wake up your neighbors.”
My warning had little effect as he took off, stumbling, down a hallway and into his bedroom. By the time I caught up he had already flopped onto his mattress without bothering to crawl underneath his sheets or - I crinkled my nose - taking off his shoes. I kneeled beside the bed, untying one shoe and then the other, before wiggling them off his feet. It was least I could do for the peace of mind he had given me that night, “Goodnight, Jay” I whispered before slowly closing the door behind me.
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I love Jay and Willow's chemistry. They kind of flow effortlessly with each other. I do wonder why you thought Jay was gonna be a plum, though. xD
Thanks!
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Chasing Rainbows: Wordpress // Forums