over it

        he smiles at her and takes her hand kissing it gently, “thank you. and yes, i am grateful for my mother. truth be told i’ve always known myself to be her silent favorite. she always tells me i look very much like my father but am her through and through. but her favoritism is much less than my father’s. his is more outright. but i’d quite like it if you met joel and maybe even corrinne though like i said my father dotes on her so that she is very rarely out of his sight.”

          jimmy shakes his head slightly and says, “well the guy was being a complete asshole, any decent person would step in. yet the fact that no one else has or did isn’t all together surprising, after all most people aren’t decent.”

A BIT SUSPICIOUS OF THE FACT that she’s been so quiet the entire time she spoke aries arched a perfectly filled brow towards the ceiling. this is a bit too good to be true she thought. “ is that really all you got out of what i said ? that you were right…? ” arms tossed up in defeat she flopped herself down onto the bed. letting out a long deep sigh before she propped herself up on an elbow, “ fine rule number one, keep all flirting out of sight. just out of respect for one another. ” ‘nd the fact that aries was insanely jealous and the chances of her breaking up any flirting were high. “ rule two, i get to pick at least two activities everyday and the last rule… ” trailing off as she shrugged she honestly couldn’t think of a third rule. “ i suppose is to be determined at a later date. ”

      MAMA ALWAYS SAID he was good at scoping out the good ones; something about law of attraction. point is, he knows a friendly soul when he sees one. it’s good; they need more of that in catterwhal, even if temporarily. too much of this town is failing families and bitter old geriatrics.

         “ yeah, that’s catterwhal for you. we’re definitely an export town. “           and not the kinda town you’d wanna live in, he’s tempted to add,           but he bites back the words. maybe it’s good that the beauty of            catterwhal blinds newcomers to all its flaws. maybe that’s the            only thing keeping this town alive.

             “ it’s five bucks, cash only, is that okay? “               pigs will fly the day mary makes an effort to blend modern               technology into his practice. it’s all so intimidating. and                honestly, he feels like he’s sort of missed the bus when it               comes to understanding how all that works.

he puts the honey in a paper bag and seals it with a nondescript sticker. hands it to her with a smile. “ appreciate your business, ma’am. “

            THERE IS AN EERIE-NESS IN DEJA VU... and a bizarre thoughtfulness in being in a new place and feeling like you’re bound to be there time, and time again.   when you can tell you’re gonna stick around,  at least for some undetermined period.   be as it may,   bella’s barely had a social interaction with anyone here yet,   much less with someone closer to her age range;   it’s kinda nice,   purely human   --    bella can detach herself from reality enough that she forgets she’s just that, too;   human. 

     MARY HAS LITTLE TO OFFER to her panic besides a gentle smile and a reassuring but brief appearance of his hand ghosting the air between them, in the flat-palm motion of someone attempting to calm a wild animal. that’s what people do, right? he’s never entirely sure. human interaction will always feel like a game nobody’s given him the rules for.

            “ hey. it’s alright. really, don’t sweat it. I was thinkin’               about trashing these soon anyway. I mean ––-               you can still take them, if you want. seriously.               they’re way too tender, in my opinion, though,               and I’d wait for another few weeks for the real               good ones to finish growing, but, uh… “

he’s aware he’s rambling, so he shakes his head and stands, depositing the peaches into the crate. his hand makes a nervous arc across the back of his neck. mary laughs again, softly, just to fill the space.

         “ ––- um, the honey’s good though. gotta love…pollinators. “

          AT LEAST HE’S NICE ABOUT IT.   she certainly didn’t need some older,  conservative figure belittling her over an wholly honest mistake.  she stands from her knees,   body always slightly achy,   eyes heavy but in their true essence,  always kind.   

            taking a half-second to count the four peaches in her arm,   she then eyes them to make comparison to the boy’s words.   ‘  --  they look decent.   but you sound like the expert on this one,  ‘   she offers a softened smile,   friendly instinct initiating itself.  she tosses her peaches into the crate.

        ♘ ▸  IF MAMA COULD SEE IT NOW, she’d be proud.

this month’s harvest is nominal –- it’s nearing the end of a long, sweaty, fruitless summer after all – but it’s enough to pay off the utilities on the house and feed the horses. mary’s found that most of his labor is a lot of sowing with very little reaping. he’d done it all; tended to the bees, climbed peach trees (with the bruises flowering up his ribcage to prove it), done all the horseshoeing even when his back ached. now all he’s got to show for it is a few jars of honey, what peaches aren’t rotten, and a couple cartons of eggs. it pays, though, and that’s all that matters. some of the other folks have even claimed that his uncle’s peaches were the best in catterwhal. 

           ( mary doesn’t think they’re all that special given the               height of the tree they’re falling from, but he’ll take              the compliment regardless. )

it’s maybe an hour till the farmer’s market is set to close, and the book mary’s been scanning for the past few hours is starting to blur into nonsense. he’s long took his earphones out, settled now with the white noise of the bodies shuffling around him. most of his stuff has sold by now ‘cept for the peaches –- which he can’t blame anyone for, considering their quality – and he almost wonders if he should start packing up shop when it happens: a shuffle, a clatter, and a series of soft bounces on concrete. mary’s eyes snap up from his book.

     “ oh –- “ someone’s ran into his crate of peaches, knocking half of the bulk over. his confusion dulls once he’s realized what’s happened, and he laughs. “ it’s alright. let me get it. happens all the time, it was – you know, kind of set at a precarious angle anyway ––– “

mary kneels down to start picking up the fruit, but half of them are caked in dust from the market’s concrete flooring anyway, so he stops and sits back on the balls of his feet. lets out another soft laugh.

                      “ y’know, maybe it’s for the better. “

        THE UNIVERSE HAD LITTLE TO OFFER HER  outside of forks.  by no means was she setting herself up for a dependency on her aged ties  --   hell,   they’ve been damaged, if not severed.   but maybe frequently,   given her abundance of self-doubt,  she may think that she’ll never be as happy as she once was.   BE IT SO.   not like she’d admit to that.   it’s not to say she hasn’t been fond of her adventures or found moments of joy;   they do come and go,  withering and fragile against her ego.

          bella swan is nothing if not efficient.  savings,  good credit,  and a willingness to work landed her the flexibility and capability to achieve the stable, but flittering lifestyle she felt suited her for the time being.    what was she looking for ?   who know’s.  after everything in the past,  she couldn’t articulate her reasoning for much of anything.   it’s a daunting,  lingering question;   what the hell are you doing,  bella? 

       places like catterwhal remind her of forks.  whether she welcomes the nostalgia is a different ask.  but if she keeps ending up in places like these,  there’s a suppressed, obvious embrace of a comfortable, familiar aura.   the nature always drew her in.  the quaint communities displayed a sense of homeliness that bella, too, missed. the role of the quiet girl, however, was something she chose to deem herself  --  often choosing to keep to herself.

                          unfortunately,   bella’s not very good at blending in just like that.

           she may overestimate the world’s plausible vendetta against her.  but hey,  bad shit happens.  and inconvenient,  awkward shit happens way more often than that.    like getting bread could be so easy!!   but here she is,  mind ticking across manic thoughts like it’s a damn checklist to work through and distracting her thoroughly enough that she’s knocking down merchandise.  

                    -------   GOD DAMMIT ! 

                   "Maybe it’s because I know we shouldn’t be trying to hunt down a killer.“ Gabriella replied in a matter of fact tone, her gentle tone a few octaves higher than it usually was: no doubt anxious that they were doing something they shouldn’t be doing. ”Really … we should just leave this for the cops to handle. Let’s head back, okay?“

          "i’m sorry, cause that’s not it at all, it’s entirely to do with my father as a whole and my mother’s quirks,” mal explains. he shrugs and says, “hardly. he’s worse with joel cause he’s always been softer than me. he still thinks i’m rather useless, but he tolerates me more than joel cause i show ‘promise’,” he laughs as he makes air quotes with his fingers. “he’s always obsessed and doted on my sister though,” mal explains and then smiles, “my mother’s always doted on joel and i though,  which has given us some protection from our father’s wrath. but he’s never had much patience for anyone but corrinne,” mal shrugs.