I'm just a poor wayfaring stranger

He watches her move to the fridge, take another beer out, thinks of something to say about this, but holds himself back. “Well maybe bald will be my look. Who knows. You might be doing me a favor and just get more girls sliding in my DMs.” They weren’t particularly funny jokes, these ones. But he was trying.

“Great, I went from your wife to your wingman,” she mutters. The beer goes down too easy, making itself known that had she continue and drink more than what was left in her hand, that she would lose control. But she was tired, and the night was long. She goes silent, eyes out the window and away from him. “Are we over the awkward shit now?”

Theo smiled wickedly, feeling like he found a kindred spirit in the middle of a dive bar. He’d grown up accustomed to violence and always used it to his advantage, but as he’d grown the more people he met that seemed to have grown at that stage in their life. “Interesting you should say that… What would you do if you were that biker?” 

She bites her bottom lip as she smiles, something to stop her from grinning like a mad woman who was ready to light the world ablaze. “I like playing dirty,” she says, “Because my ass would be over there like ‘This dude said you look like a girly-man’ and there is nothing more fragile in the world than a man who doesn’t want to seem unmanly,” she raises a brow, “It pisses them off. I’d rather watch a fight than be part of it, at least publicly nowadays.”

Evan watched her examine things for a brief second—though she seemed in her own thoughts. Rightfully so, probably. He wouldn’t pry, about her time in treatment or even what exactly had gone down. His own experiences with hospitals and doctors wasn’t great—aside from initial treatment in a hospital when he was fifteen which he hardly remembered, he disliked therapy and psychiatrists in general, and avoided anything but the most basic appointments to get his prescriptions renewed. What Indi had been through was probably a whole different level.

He grinned a little. “Nap time is sacred, I don’t know what they were thinking,” he muttered, picking out a few choice tubes of acrylic from a rack, and then second guessing and putting one back. Why he kept buying orange when he didn’t really use it as much, he didn’t know. Her comment made him glance up, amused by that thought. “Yeah, fair enough. He also slept in his clothes a lot,” he added. “I think about that when I get tired sometimes—if Michaelangelo didn’t take off his fucking boots before falling into bed, then I shouldn’t feel like a failure if I don’t.” Evan shook his head. “Not the best role model, maybe, but it’s reassuring.”

She went sometimes twice a week to a professional, but mostly it had died down to once a week where she saunters in to an office full of nervous people, sits down in that stupid, fucking chair, and talks about her week. She’s open about it to that woman with a badge. Dr. Carson doesn’t judge her, tells Indiana that she is allowed to feel emotions without being a danger to society, or to herself. That became an important lesson between them, that Indiana is allowed to feel without punishing herself for feeling anything. Maybe he knows that’s why she’d vanish every so often when they lived in California, maybe he thinks it’s none of his business. But at least the therapy was of her own freedom, unlike the 90 days in the facility.

Theo looked up, finally taking in his surroundings and noticing that he wasn’t the only one ready to pommel the kid who was ruining everyone’s night. In a strange way it made him feel a little better. “Good to know I’m not the only one.” he said gruffly, “Maybe someone will intervene before that biker dude over there does something…” he said, looking behind him with a smile on his face. It amused him to no end to watch other people do the dirty work. 

There is a devious smile that grows at her lips, something that isn’t muted even by the bottle pressed against her mouth. “Fuck, I hope he does,” she mutters, breath echoing in the glass. “I would pay good money to see that kid get what they deserve.”

Winnie put on a small smile, even though guns were never something she could laugh about. Even in hand form. “I have enough self defense training that a robber wouldn’t stand a damn chance believe me.” She was way over skilled for just one person. That’s what happens after you’re taken and forced to see the truth about humanity. That anyone can snap. 

“I only robbed drunk dudes outside of bars, you’d be safe,” she says with a wave of the hand. Granted, Indiana usually did it because she was drunk and thought that the world needed to be punished and it came out by looting the pockets of drunken men who made moves on girls who didn’t want it. Worked in her favor in the end. “Never had trainin’ unless you count midnight fight club with a bunch of other homeless youths.”

“California, huh?” That was a familiar place to the brunette who had spent her formative years growing up in the golden state. Well, the North of it anyway which wasn’t exactly filled with the same stereotypes of blonde surfers that most tourists would have depicted at the mention of the coastal state. “Did you like it there? Obviously not enough to stay though, right?” At her inquiry, Victoria placed the aged envelope of photos back into the box, just one of the many that had collected onto the lawn. “I’m pretty sure I have something from that state around here, mainly from San Francisco, but if you were over there maybe something will jog your memory.” 

“Yeah, southern. Lived in San Diego for a while,” she shrugged, it didn’t feel like home. Everything was too hot but Indiana was someone who would complain about the sun shining, she could always find something to whine about, “It was ok.  It was a place to be but now I’m here and maybe in 10 years I’ll be someplace else,” probably not, Indiana was bound to be stuck here they suppose. The open road didn’t call their name anymore. “It was too hot and dry and the first time we had an earthquake, I was hoping to be swallowed up but it felt more like a truck driving past and shaking the house.”

“You really can’t take a joke about some things, can you?” Jude said with a teasing chuckle. Then again, she had always been like that. “Also, you threatened me with that while we were still married, and never did it, I doubt you’d do it now.”

“You know me best,” she says dryly, a disappointed glance down at her empty beer causes her to take the few steps back over to the fridge and take another one out. His words make her scoff, “Yeah, because I was afraid to be alone so I never did it but now I ain’t got shit to worry about. Ain’t gunna be my problem.”

Theo took another drink from the bottle of beer he had ordered as someone put Britney Spear’s ‘Toxic’ on the jukebox for what seemed like the millionth time. “Are you fuckin’ kidding me, again?” he muttered more to himself then to the person beside him. His head was beginning to pound and he could feel the frustration build up in him, starting at him in the bottom of his chest. He wouldn’t loose his grip in public though, he’d made a promise to himself and to his mother. They wanted a new start here and started a fight or smashing the jukebox wouldn’t be the greatest first impression. “If I give you some money can you go over there and change the damn song? If I do I might put my fist through something.” 

She knew that feeling, but had spent the last few minutes glaring at the kid who kept turning on the freaking song like it was hilarious to them listening to the groans of the other bar-goers. She huffs out a sigh, “You ain’t the only one,” she mutters, “The whole fuckin’ bar is about to riot.”

Winnie clicked her heels along the path her head held low as she scrolled through her phone. She stopped, hearing footsteps behind her. Her pulse began to race. It wasn’t too dark out, but she hated the sound of someone approaching her when she was all alone. She dipped her hand into her bag, keeping her voice stoic, despite the fact the fact that her mind was racing. “I have pepper spray and I am not afraid to use -” She turned around, a smile appearing on her face. “Oh it’s you. You scared the shit out of me !!”

Indiana pulls fingers out from her pocket as if she had a gun but it was only air and flesh that formed it, but a grin pulled their lips apart. “You could have died right there,” she says, taking aim and letting out a soft pew, “You ever been pepper sprayed? Shit, it just makes me madder, if I was trying to rob you, it would just make me beat you.”

He hadn’t really expected Indi to spend time with him when he moved here, that wasn’t part of the plan. It had been convenience that brought him to Lanford rather than New York itself, it had nothing to do with her also living here—he might not have told her about the move at all, if he’d had his way, but there was no point in trying to keep it private when she’d just hear it from her dad eventually anyway. It wasn’t that they didn’t get along, so much, just that… they didn’t have anything in common, that he could see, aside from their parents marrying each other. 

And he certainly hadn’t expected to be looking at art supplies with her. The comment made him look over, but a slight grin formed as she spoke. “Yeah, I don’t think the whole therapeutic side of things works really great if you’re forced into it,” he offered, quietly amused. “Some pretty famous art’s been made by throwing paint, though…”

She wasn’t doing that now, though, which was nice of her. He’d be getting supplies here a lot, he wanted to keep a good reputation with the staff. He never knew exactly what to expect with Indi, but he didn’t push her on anything, and that seemed to be working out okay so far.

“I hated that time,” she muses softly, squinting to try to figure out the difference between greys but she didn’t have the eye for art. She supposes she didn’t have the eyes for anything but maybe just the gut to trust people or not. She trusted him, enough at least. They were as much of a family as anyone could ever be, even if they hadn’t been around for her darkest times as they fell in to their laps shortly after Indiana’s post-divorce depression started to break apart. But she rarely mentions her marriage, her drug use, her bouts with anger and sadness to them. It wasn’t their problem, it was hers.

But she couldn’t help but to make a dark joke once in a while about white coats and having her shoe laces taken from her. “Some people like it, it was just during my afternoon nap time,” she stands up from where she was crouching to read and turns to stare at Evan, “Yeah, but the best art is done by pissed off people who don’t want to paint. The only thing I remember about that therapy is that she tried to get me to paint because it was ok to be angry, that even Michelangelo's driving force to a lot of his painting was anger and spite.”

“I just meant that’s pretty emo of you. There’s incessant screaming in my head,” he said in a deep, mocking voice. “Lighten up a little.” He took another sip. 

Her beer is at her mouth, lips pressed against the bottle and all she can do is stare and process everything a little. “You’re lucky we don’t sleep together anymore because I would shave off your hair,” she threatens, taking a big swig. “Then your poor fangirls would have to fap over one of the other motherfuckers you hang out with.”

Maybe that’s just how life was supposed to go. You run off to California with your dad and you come back with a new family involved, with people that you don’t feel welcome with but you’re family so you have to find a way to connect even if it felt hard. Because you’re not good with words and spent a few good weeks in uncomfortable silence until one night when you ran off in the afternoon and show up hours after dark and spend even more hours blankly watching Bob Ross reruns because feeling nothing about happy little trees feels better than feeling nothing about anything. Even if it’s uncomfortable, he’s still family in the end.

Evan showed up in town and she felt like she had to protect him because she knew how people were in small towns. Big cities it was easy to ignore and be ignored but Lanford? New went in a few different ways. So she made sure he was ok, in the event that she could punch someone in the face a few times. She follows when he goes to a craft store because it was better than sitting at home, making snide comments the entire time.

“I guess if people want to romanticize the idea they would call it that.” Victoria managed to put on a smile, despite how embarrassed she felt when her idea of the other galavanting across the U.S. with nothing but wanderlust on the brain was quickly crushed by the reality of the other’s misfortune. “Sorry, by the way,” the brunette was quick to add before her brown eyes returned to the photos, her attention, however, remained on the blonde’s words. “You know it sounds like you had the type of marriage a lot of people who want to travel dream about. Nothing but the open road with someone you love. You ever drive route 66? It’s one of those bucket-list things people always wanna do before they die, and I’m definitely one of those people.”

“It was a good time,” she shrugs, “Travelling was nice but we only made it to California before heading back. I wanted to see more but whatever, life happens. Nothing to be sorry about being homeless. It was a choice and I made it.” Maybe the life she had wasn’t happy but it was her life and you just gotta make do with whatever happens. There was happiness bound to happen sooner or later, even if the marriage fell apart shortly after that “Yeah, I kind of remember that. All the roads felt like the same after a while.”

“How 2006 Myspace emo of you,” he teased, taking a sip from his beer. 

She stares blankly at him, “I don’t know what the fuck you mean but I already know that I don’t like it.”

Bella raised her eyebrows, clearly impressed and eyeing the woman’s small stature. “A fight club? Jeeze, that’s pretty kick ass. I didn’t even know those still existed.” Though Bella liked to think she’d seen it all, it seemed the more time she spent in Lanford, the more she learnt of the world. She never would have guessed she would have learnt more living in a small town then living in New York. 

“They’re frowned upon,” she shrugs, it kept her sane for that period of time, and during that time in her life it was one of the few moments she was as sober as she could have been. The thrill of a fight rose above any high she ever had. “We did it because it kept us out of trouble with the cops. No one died,” she shrugs, “That I know of.”

“What, nothing at all? Empty?” 

“Just incessant screaming. Nothing to read.”

Bella raised her eyebrows, clearly impressed and eyeing the woman’s small stature. “A fight club? Jeeze, that’s pretty kick ass. I didn’t even know those still existed.” Though Bella liked to think she’d seen it all, it seemed the more time she spent in Lanford, the more she learnt of the world. She never would have guessed she would have learnt more living in a small town then living in New York. 

“It’s not supposed to but it did, and probably still does,” she shrugs, “The smaller you are, the closer to Satan you are. I’m like a spider monkey,” at least she hadn’t ever been seriously hurt, even though there were a few times she thought it was going to end up like. “Shit happens.”