avalanche

Everything was documented, down to the single words her father would use to answer her questions or statements after he hit his wall, in her journals. Meticulous her entire life, she had journals of all sizes - pocket journals, large leather bound tome looking journals, petite, nightstand journals - with entry dates cataloging all the way back to before first grade, when her small little hands wrote single sentences for each day. We learned about fish at school today. Dad was upset at me because I did not want to eat my broccoli. The dog puked on my shoe. Though, most of the older journals had a vast amount of spelling errors that made her smile whenever she pulled them out. That storage container of journals was one of the only sentimental items she had lugged with her from Chicago. She had packed light, otherwise, a single duffle bag and 2 large suitcases on the flight and then 4 cube boxes shipped over with other things she wanted for her room and that was that. She needed a fresh start; that was the whole point.

But now, she was face to face with one person who made her feel more human and fallible than she wanted to feel. That notion was ridiculous, though. Oz knew nothing of her past, nothing of the things she had been through. She was just that girl that yelled at him when he showed up late to church or pitched a fit when he slipped up and got high. She wasn’t broken, in his eyes. At least, she didn’t think she was. She presented such a put together, organized front that she was almost certain if hid the cracks threatening to splinter her at any given second.

 Kennedy knew, the moment the words left her lips, that she had spoken out of turn, in a way. Her father would have shot her a look that could kill had he heard what she said. Thankfully, she was miles and miles away from him but the thought of his reaction was enough to make her stomach churn. She nodded at him and smiled, looking down at her damp papers. “My father is an amazing pastor. But he was never much of a dad.” She glanced up to him and forced a smile, knowing that there was much more to it than that. He was her father but not much of a dad. She had always said that to her friends - he was her father; a father was the man who helped create you and bring you into the world. He was not a dad; a dad was someone who took you out for ice cream even if your mom said not to and a dad played house with you and wore the fancy tea party hat when you asked him to.

Her father had never said it out loud, but part of Kennedy knew that he had wanted to have a son. There was something missing in her relationship with her father that he seemed to search for in others. He had found it when Oz came into their lives and in plenty of young men who needed guidance in their lives. For so long, she had pushed it off as her father wanting to serve the community like he often preached, but perhaps it was more than that.

She was thankful for Oz’s ability to completely shift a conversation from something serious to something so lighthearted was a welcome memory. He had always been good at that, to the point where as a young adult, Kennedy had called him out on it, somewhere along the lines of “no, Oz, you cannot distract me from yelling at you for stupid thing a, b, and c from today, regardless of how wrong you are about x, y, and z.” Now, though, the states were much less serious. She wasn’t railing him about using or his faith this time around. “Man, it’s all coming back to me now…I was sitting here thinking, how could I have ever been so mean to someone so nice…and now I remember. You make it so easy sometimes, you growing boy.” She patted him on the upper arm in a slightly condescending manner as he peeled away to look in the fridge. 

As he started rattling off his claim of being a great cook, she quirked an eyebrow, not believing him just yet. Then, at the offer of chaufa, her eyes grew larger. “You’re not kidding. You could make me chaufa?” She had no idea what it was, until he said he could make it and explained what it was. But it was certainly more complicated than a bowl of cereal or mac and cheese. At that, she was impressed, nodding. “I’d love to see you actually make something edible.” The things she had seen young men make in the parish and in college were colossal nightmares; perhaps Oz had some sort of redemption arc coming for mankind as a whole.

Oz was not very good at many things. One thing that he was good at was reading faces and understanding how the people around him felt. However, at the moment, Kennedy showed absolutely no change in her face; she looked as normal and even as she ever did. That was all the proof he needed that something was clearly wrong. People didn’t look this even when their parents were drawn into question; even if they had been perfect. He didn’t think her father had been perfect. There was a little spark of guilt, before he dismissed it, that he had been there and living with them and never picked up on anything at the time. That was in the past and worrying over it never changed anything. For the moment, he only needed to decide just how bad it had been and what type of support she needed. If she needed. Just because someone had dealt with something in their past didn’t mean that they hadn’t dealt with it. He was far past the things that he had done and the things that had been done to him.

The smile now, he wondered if she had ever fooled anyone with that. Clearly there were some cracks forming and the truth was spilling out of them as the smile was one of the saddest things he had seen in a while. He thought for a moment, taking more time to speak than he usually did (he didn’t always have to be a bull in a china shop). “Do you want to talk about it, or do you want to be distracted by it?” He asked finally, relying on the phrase that usually gave him a good start in these kinds of conversations. Usually this came naturally, but usually he wasn’t talking to Kennedy. In their youth, she had seemed unshakable. Only now that he was older had he learned that people weren’t so much what they portrayed.

“I guess I probably wasn’t much help back then, huh?” Old memories played across his mind now, the fights that they’d had and how he had been convinced that she hated him. And for reasons he hadn’t understood himself, he’d still liked her. Ever since, he had blamed that on being a baby christian, looking for anyone who was a good example and feeling like he needed someone to yell at him. Only now he seeing her again and after only five minutes of talking he was already finding himself drawn to her all over again. That was going to be interesting, especially considering the context of the conversation. He would have to work to separate himself from that, as long as he was trying to help.

She seemed grateful for the shift, not that he could blame her. He had never been one to enjoy living life in the more serious aspects, as much as he knew they were necessary. He preferred to make people laugh, and most of the time he was successful in it. As it was, he was more than willing to be the punchline if it put some authenticity into her smile. Her words didn’t hold half as much bite as they had when they had first known each other, and he didn’t know if that was due to the way he was receiving them, or the way she was giving them. Maybe a little bit of both. Whatever it was, he liked the shift. He started pulling things out of the fridge, piling up ingredients on the counter. “I think you might just enjoy being mean.” He retorted, as he dug through a lower cabinet in search of a pan. “And you know I won’t go bad-mouthing you because of it.” He shot her a wink from under his arm, as he pulled a large frying pan from the cabinet and sending several other pans clattering around loudly. He shut the door, quickly, before anything could slide onto the floor. “I feel sorry for the next person to open that.” 

“Awe, that means you love me.” Oz flashed a wide grin at them, aware that they were far from serious. So far. He also knew that he was wearing them down day by day. After all, they had already gone from obviously disliking him to getting along and cracking jokes with him, which meant he was on the right track. “See, I think you would.” 

The way his dimples pooled in his cheeks had her chest tighten in a way she was not comfortable with. Memories flooded back to her: the night Oz told her he was leaving Chicago. The way he chest had cracked under the pressure, of what, she had no idea. The same feeling that settled in her chest now was the same one she had been fighting against just before he left. She thought those feelings died a lone time ago, along with any hope of seeing Oz again. He was a way finder - someone who paved the path for others, explored new places, had adventures. Kennedy was not. Kennedy was safe. She didn’t take risks and if she did, they were calculated to the point of not being risky anymore. She had pushed down those feelings, ignored them, told herself she was being childish and stupid. Oz was not someone you felt like that toward. He was a godless junkie, not the sort of man her  father would have approved of. Perhaps that was why he had been able to push his way into her life.

She tried to keep her laugh soft and actually managed, nodding. “Oh, I’m aware of your vices.” Perhaps not in excruciating detail, but she knew it was hard drugs. Miraculously, she’d never found herself interested in drugs. Not even after her mother died. She drank herself stupid once or twice and got pregnant but never had she crossed the line to anything like Oz had. But eleven years sober? That was no feat, especially when she had seen him at his worst. She knew he had kept her on the straight and narrow in college, too. Her friends had experimented here and there - weed, acid, mushrooms - but she had stayed far away from that mess. And that was because she had seen first hand what a bad trip looked like, the sort of things detoxing did to your body. She’d been there to wipe the sweat from his brow and make sure he didn’t choke on his own vomit. She wasn’t even sure he knew, if she was being honest. 

“I’m glad my father was able to at least help someone.” She felt as if that had come off more pointed than she wanted it to. She was keenly aware of the fact that she had spoken as if her father was not one to help people just now. To be fair, he helped plenty of people on plenty of occasions. Just not Kennedy when she needed it. That was not something she was about to bring up, now or ever. That was for her to know and her alone.

Kennedy’s eyebrows lifted and fell quickly and her arms crossed in front of her as he spoke, nodding along with a slightly lopsided smile. “Oh, yeah, is that so?” He was calling her out on the way she used to talk to him and she deserved it. But she’d never let him just get away with it without a little bit of a jab. “Well excuse me for being sassy with the boy who would come in and cleared out our fridge in a matter of a single meal.” It was easy to get under her skin, though, which she also knew. She was an easy target, especially for a kid who knew exactly what buttons to push. And Oz most certainly had. It seemed that he still carried that skill even over a decade later. Hadn’t lost his touch.

At the offer of food, her shoulders visible relaxed but her words didn’t match the gesture. “Honestly, I don’t know that I trust anything you cook but please, even cereal at this point would be a welcome meal.” In all honesty, she hadn’t eaten anything all day and now, with the extra work of writing out the lessons again, she wouldn’t have much time to cook herself anything. Lifting a finger she tilted it toward him slightly, “I wasn’t going there. You did that yourself. Isn’t that more telling than anything I could’ve said? Hmm?”

Oz couldn’t shake the feeling that there was more going on below the surface. Of course, time and experience had taught him that there was always something going one below the surface, but he’d also developed a talent for sensing when someone was holding back. Only now he didn’t know if this was just Kennedy, how she had always been around him, or if something had happened in the time since he’d left. Eleven years was a long time to give someone room to grow and change and face all kinds of disasters in life. Time had also taught him that people would share when they were ready though, so he bit back the questions that rose to mind and made a choice to enjoy the moment instead. 

Enjoy the moment. Honestly, it was no surprise that he felt something was off; he felt it himself. It was the disorientation of meeting someone who had known a different version of himself. He had a feeling he had known a different version of Kennedy. Everyone change through their twenties, be it for the better or the worse, and he didn’t think anyone would look back on their teen years and think they were the same. Or want to be the same, for that matter. If he was feeling caught off guard and distracted by it, how much worse must it be for her; someone ever concerned with details and order? He felt a little more at ease with that in mind, feeling as though he had discovered the source of the discomfort, if that was the right word for it. In time, the feeling would settle and they would get comfortable again. Really, he had to think about the fact that they had only known each other for a year. A year that was probably a little clearer in her mind than it was in his, to be fair. The memories now were fuzzy at best, only as clear as they were because it had been such an important turning point in his life. 

Again, Oz ducked his head. He had grown used to talking about his old vices, but that was always with people who knew only this version of him. Not people who had been witness to it. “Thank God I’ve been able to put all that behind me.” He said, looking back up again, lopsided smile much softer now. “I’d be dead right now if I hadn’t.” He stated it as a fact, with a one-sided shrug. He had been nearly there before stumbling into her church. That was a memory that he didn’t think would ever fade. Be it waking up on a pew to her father standing over him, to waking up on their couch, to Kennedy glaring at him. It almost made him chuckle to think about, comparing the two meetings in his mind. 

Oz came into focus suddenly. Something in her tone, in the lay of her words, he thought he had found the source of that something off. He looked hard at her, trying to decide if it was something to poke at in order to learn more, or leave be. He leaned back, hands on the counter as he rolled words over in his mind, doing his best to take care with what he said. “You know I was...well, a little distracted back then. I didn’t really pay attention to the world moving around me. Since getting out on my own though, I’ve learned that people can be in ministry and do a lot of good while neglecting other important things. I don’t really know how your dad did with that, but you know, if you ever need to talk...” He let it trail off there, feeling it made his point well enough. He’d had moments of looking back and realizing he disagreed with some of the things he had been taught, but he’d never thought to examine the man’s personal relationships. He’d always been attentive and supportive with Oz, but that hardly meant that he was perfect. 

Instantly, Oz was smiling again, a laugh escaping. A younger him might have been embarrassed by that, something he was long past. He’d gone without, sure, but more often than not he had been fed by eager families who were offended by people who didn’t finish the food they were offered. Working in groups, he was always the person that his teammates passed their food to while other people weren’t looking, when they couldn’t finish it or just didn’t like it. He had been accused of not having taste buds, in the past. “I’m a growing boy.” He defended himself, without much heart behind it. He hadn’t been a growing boy in a very long time. “And I wasn’t really used to having food readily available at that point.”

She tilted her head when he said they had taken different paths. “You got soft from what? The champagne you drank at dinner parties?” A little quick to jump to conclusions, again, but she was not under the impression that Oz was anything but a silver-spoon-fed blonde super baby. But perhaps maybe he was? She tilted her head, “unless you’re saying something else.” She was thrown off by his wink, unsure if she liked the sensation it sent through her or not.

Oz laughed before he even realized he was doing it. The idea of him at a dinner party sounded all kinds of wrong and disastrous. Especially the kind that he could tell she was referring to, which probably was a blur of bright formal dresses and button up shirts. “Is that what they drink at those? Sure does sound fancy, but I’ve never tried champagne. Can you find that at a bar? I’ve never thought to ask before.” He was pretty sure he had seen bottles of it in gas stations before, but he didn’t think that was the kind that they drank at those fancy dinner parties. 

“Really though, I think I got soft when I stopped shooting up. Or maybe when I covered up the gang tattoos? It all kind of happened at once, so it’s hard to say what really made me go soft. In the end it was probably the donuts.” He patted his stomach, leaning back in his chair and finding himself suddenly wondering if he could find donuts anywhere in Paris. There were pastries, sure, but nothing really beat a piece of deep fried dough covered in sugar. “You’ve lived here all your life, right? There any decent places to find a donut around here?” 

“Why do you insist on hurting me so?” Oz asked, a hand held to his chest. Somehow, him and Angel had settled into this sort of dynamic very quickly. He’d thought they might take a little longer to get past his occupation, but they had taken only a few days to get comfortable enough around him to treat him like anyone else in the house. He thought they might even consider him a friend. “I sense some sarcasm there.” 

Back then, she had told herself he was pathetic. But she had been projecting. She had been at a point in her life where she felt worthless but it was so much easier to just pretend like the junkie your dad was fostering was far worse off than you were. Her father was the man who found a new way to preach the same passage from the bible six different ways that always had you walking away thinking that you just needed to be a Good Christian TM and then everything would fall into place. She had grown up thinking that and now, even as a free thinking adult, it was difficult to rewire her brain to think otherwise. 

When Oz laughed, it tugged on her heart strings. She knew that laugh. That was the uncomfortable laugh used he use all those years when she would make flea jokes at him. It looks like someone gave you your flea bath this morning. Instead of Oz, you look nice. She had been so mean to him back then. It was a miracle he didn’t absolutely hate her, in all honesty. “So you don’t need much of the help yourself these days then?” There it was. Not as nasty as it had been back then, but still an unnecessary jab at the boy he had been when she first met him. He was nothing like that boy anymore; she could tell that just from these few minutes she had just spent talking to him. When he started to mess with his hair, she wanted to tell him it looked fine, but she didn’t. She felt so strange, sitting her in Paris, with Oz Smith, of all people. Just having a normal conversation about the time that had passed and their new professions. 

The blush that set in on Oz’s cheeks had Kennedy smile, dimples pooling on each side of her face. “Still a giant dork. Can’t take a compliment. Maybe nothing’s changed.” She was lighthearted in her jests this time and nearly reached out to elbow him but she was too far away. Instead, her feet swung from the stool she was sitting in and she reached for a hi-lighter to toy with to keep her fingers busy. It was a poor attempt to keep her focus on something other than the pit in her stomach that came with the idea of her father calling later in the week to check-in on her first few days. She knew he would ask if anything interested happened and she could lie; she was good at lying to him now. How are you, Kennedy? Oh, I’m good, Dad. Thanks for asking. It was so simple now and he never questioned it. Something told her though, that she should just tell her dad she had run into Oz. No need to tell him that they were essentially neighbors. 

“You’ve got the personality to work with older kids. I’m not surprised.” The energy was necessary to work with children of any age but picturing Oz with a group of kids, she saw them as older, for some reason. Middle school and high school aged kids who needed a bit of direction. Almost as if he was passing on the knowledge and stories of the serious shit he had gotten into and how to avoid that at all costs.

What Oz had never managed to admit to himself, much less Kennedy, back when he was staying with her family was the fact that he would not have managed to change if it weren’t for her. The pushing and the encouragement from her father had been good, of course. It gave him the confidence he had so desperately needed to actually believe that he could be worth something beyond just a street rat. But it had been her picking and pushing and nagging that had kept him going when he didn’t want to care enough to be any better. In the moments that he’d wanted to give up, she’d always somehow materialized and spouted something that had convinced him that he couldn’t stop trying. If nothing else, he’d wanted to prove her wrong about him. Now that he had, he only felt silly for ever feeling that way. But it had been the push he needed, so he couldn’t regret it too much. 

This was ridiculous. Oz was a grown man now, over a decade out of that phase of his life and successful. The fact that she could make him feel like he was a nineteen year old mess again was damn near impressive, and she wasn’t even trying. She had been nothing but friendly to him, and here he was, feeling the need to prove himself. He knew, in his heart, that he didn’t have to prove himself to any fellow humans. He knew that it was not a matter of works, or what a person had done, or even how long they had been a Christian. In this matter, the world was black and white. There was no grey, no better or worse, there was only people.  Each with their own flaws and breaks and differences. If he tried to prove himself, he was already failing. 

There was the old Kennedy, though. He couldn’t help feeling as though the world made more sense with the sort of backhanded compliment that felt more like the girl he knew. He smiled, all lopsided and dimpled, having reached a point where those comments didn’t sting anymore. He didn’t struggle talking about his past, he’d given his testimony in front of thousands by now. “Eleven years sober. I’ll drink here there, I mean, but that was never really my problem.” He didn’t feel any need to have a drink, was the difference. He could go a year without thinking about having a drink. It was the other things that he had struggled with. He still sometimes felt those old urges pop up, typically followed with locking himself away somewhere as private as he could find and praying until they faded. “Your dad really did change my life.”

Oz covered his face with his hands, briefly. Everyone always told him he could never play poker; his ability to hide was he was thinking was nonexistent. Still, he was grinning when he dropped his hands again, all mixed up with a grimace. “I think I’ve gotten a little bit better. I think it just surprised me, coming from you.” He hoped she wouldn’t take the tease wrong. They had both grown up, clearly, and it was possible she did not want him bringing up how unlikely she had been to hand out compliments before. At least, not to him. He hadn’t seen her interacting with her friends much, to be fair. She had always made it rather clear that she didn’t want him hanging around them. Not that he could blame her. Nothing to ruin a teenage girl’s friend night like an awkward, troublesome teenage boy. He had never blamed her for that, and he’d never had much interest in hanging around anyway (other than to pester her). Back then, pestering her had been one of his favorite pastimes. 

Ardora understood the luxury of creamer; that was almost why she preferred the coffee black and biter. It seemed silly to say it out loud, but when she heard him say it, she took a beat to process it, which was highly abnormal for her. It gave her just a fraction of a second to consider the fact that perhaps Oz was not as shiny and new as he appeared. “Yeah, I get that…” One last forkful and then she slid her plate away from her just enough to pull the coffee mug toward her. “I never got much of an option, so…biter I am.” A smirk crossed her red lips as she lifted the mug and downed what was left of the lukewarm coffee to make room for the fresh stuff.

“Maybe I will.” Oz gave, never one to argue for a prolonged time. “Like I said, it’s not up to me.” She wasn’t the first to tell him he was going to end up staying somewhere, and he was sure she wouldn’t be the last. Someday, he was sure one of them was going to be right, he just hadn’t found that place yet. He still had the wanderlust burning at his feet and the voice in his head telling him it wasn’t time to stop yet, he still had more to do, more to see. It was a hard thing to explain to people, especially those who didn’t believe the same way that he did. Faith was such a radical concept under different eyes, he knew. He had been on the other side of it, and the idea of someone up and leaving their life just because they believed there was someone watching out for them was insane. Half the time he didn’t know where his dinner was coming from, or if he was going to have a place to stay the next week, but he’d gotten to the point where it didn’t bother him much anymore. He knew that he would be taken care of. 

“Yeah, I don’t care much for religion, actually.” He said, with a half-hearted shrug. In his experience, religion was something man-made and relied on rules and repetition, without any real feelings involved. It tended to be what turned people off of God, and he’d been fired from countless churches for that opinion. “I see, you need the adrenaline of knowing that it might a disaster.”

Her college friends had been just what she needed, though. They had all been children: 18 and legally adults, but such small babies alone in the real world for the first time. These kids hadn’t believes a single word that fell from her lips. One had even asked if she was from Footloose. To be honest, some of the stories she told made it sound that way. “Shitty, yes, but…” she couldn’t finish her sentence. She shrugged. It was difficult to explain. College was different, an experience she should have enjoyed more instead of rushing through undergrad in 3 years. 

It was his sincerity that had always gotten her upset. For whatever reason, she struggled to believe that someone could honestly be as nice as Oz often was. Even she had her limits and she worked with small children every day. Some nights, she just needed to scream or cry or smack her pillow into the couch. Oz, though, seemed genuinely kind and for whatever reason, that had irritated her as a young adult. Now, it was oddly refreshing. Amidst all the anger and sadness and darkness, there was Oz. Just as bright and bubbly as ever. “You always were too big for your britches, Oz Smith. Offering to help me whenever I need it.” She reached forward to a dry piece of notebook paper and pulled it toward herself. She wrote her phone number on it, along with just her first name followed by a small heart at the end of the y, a signature she had gotten so used to writing she didn’t even notice it anymore. Perfect script, the curves and lines almost formulaic. 

Watching him clean, she nodded along with him. “I’d say you’ve grown into it. You’ve filled out a bit so at least your level of intensity isn’t disproportionate now…I don’t think.” To be fair, she hadn’t spent much time with this Oz. The Oz she knew from 12 years ago was strikingly different. This man in front of her wasn’t necessarily a bad thing, though, she tried to tell herself. Knowing someone in this house was a good thing; she had the beginnings of a support system. That was one of her big concerns with uprooting from Chicago and moving here. Back home, she had her close friends, the therapist she saw twice a month, and a heap of co-workers she had considered friends. But making this move had been necessary and the right thing to do. “I think we owe ourselves that time, yes. I’m sure my father would be delighted to know you’re still doing well and making a way for yourself…spreading His word, I’m sure?” For half a second, she thought that maybe she would lie and tell her father that Oz had fallen off the bandwagon somehow. He was clearly clean; that much was obvious. But something small just to knock Oz down off of that stupid pedestal her father kept him on like some prized trophy. Another moment passed before she was mentally reprimanding herself for even thinking that. What sort of woman was she to even think that? Perhaps she was more lost than she was letting on.

“But sometimes we need it.” Oz finished for her. People didn’t expect him to understand. People also tended to think that he was some saint who followed all the rules and had all his shit together. He could try to explain it, but nobody ever really believed that he was still a mess of a person, always learning and growing and trying to make himself better. The problem was, sometimes the church could be too much. All too often, it strayed away from the true ideals of the bible and began to rely on rules and repetition to be ‘good’. It, at times, took breaking out of that to remember that the church was the not the equivalent of real relationship. A person had to make mistakes to understand that weakness, that mistakes, that failure was not what separated one from God. If anything, it brought Him closer. Unpopular opinion in many churches, sure, but he had found it to be true on far too many occasions to dismiss it. 

Now he was going to start preaching to himself, if he kept on like this. Normally he didn’t mind, and would usually even start taking notes on a roll like this, but he was attempting to have a conversation, which meant that notes would have to wait until later. If he remembered, and the chances of that happening were about as good as him keeping track of any notes he did take. Organization had never been one of his strong suits, and it still tended to be his downfall. Oz chuckled in a self-deprecating sort of manner, as he tossed the towel off towards the counter, wiping hands down his legs to dry them off. He didn’t know what to do with this older, matured Kennedy. He kept waiting for the stinging comment to come, but here she was complimenting him and he felt a little lost as to how to respond. “I just like to help people.” He finally said, with another helpless shrug. He decided that it was suddenly of most importance to fix the struggling ponytail he currently had, slipping the rubber band off, then raking hands through his hair to push it back up into the short stub of a ponytail he kept it in. 

Oz had forgotten how she signed her name, until now. Of course it was cleaner, more practiced and neat than it had been when he had known her before. But the heart was still there at the end, and it made him want to laugh again, for some reason. He didn’t. She would probably think he was laughing at her, if he did, and he didn’t want that. That would not make her think that he had changed in the decade that had passed. Why he was so worried about what she thought of him was...well, he would get past that eventually. 

Now, his hands had nothing to do. He still had the energy that demanded he bounce around, but he swallowed that for a moment and shoved his hands into the pockets of his jeans to keep them still. He blamed the knots in his stomach on the fact that this was someone from his past. Someone he had to prove to that the effort put into him had been worth something, that he had used the help given to him for something good. His head ducked, feeling himself grow red at the memory of just how energetic he had been before. The kind to make him seem calm now. “Yeah, I uh, I guess the weight has slowed me down.” It wasn’t the best logic, but he figured it would probably result in a laugh, if nothing else. Really, he just had learned to spend his free time working out, if he had any, and it helped to tired him out. Sometimes. Everyone kept telling him that he would lose energy when he got older, but it hadn’t happened so far. “Yeah, yeah, I’ve got a church here that asked me to come over and work with their youth for a while. It’s a good group of kids so far, and much easier work than what I’ve been up to for a while.” If anything, this felt like a vacation. He was getting paid, for one, and he worked regular hours. He felt lazy. “I don’t really know what to do with myself with all the free time they’re giving me, though. I’m used to more of all-consuming sort of things.” 

As Oz stood to make the coffee, she continued to slice and lift bits of the food he had made into her mouth. She thought about more salt but people were always telling her how bad it was for her. At that, she lifted the shaker and added more. Mouth half-full, she nodded, covering her mouth with her hand. “Mmm, dark, dark, dark. I rarely use cream. You?”

While Oz made a habit of studying people, he was also always the kind to reserve judgment. He was judged at glance by most people he met and had been for most his life, with a label slapped on him before people moved on. It had ceased to bother him at this point, but he did make an effort to not do the same to the people around him. So while he thought he was getting a feel for the type of woman the girl across from him was, he knew that it was only the surface that he was seeing at the moment. That generally the sharper the comments, the thicker the skin, the more that meant someone was trying to guard a lot of pain. He doubted that she would appreciate hearing that, so he kept it to himself. “I tend to stay on the move. But we’ll see, maybe Paris will keep me for a year or two, it’s not really up to me.” 

  i wish that i could say i am a light that      never goes out

Ardora nodded toward the coffee pot across the counter when he asked about coffee. “I mean, there’s that. You should just make a fresh pot. I’ll help you finish it…” There was no such thing as too much coffee and Oz had gone from confusing and frustrating to tolerable. But maybe it was just the omelet…

“Oh, I’m so sorry, I’ll be sure to take everything you say as the sincerest of compliments from here on out.” Oz assured, in his own less than sincere tone. Another quarter of his own breakfast disappeared, as he managed to shake his head at her and take a bite at the same time. “As long as I’m here in Paris, I will be more than happy to provide it.” If he was actually making breakfast that morning. He had a habit of running out and forgetting to eat in the morning, but maybe having someone else planning on the food would make a difference. 

“World shaking news.” He’d had the feeling right from the start that Angel would be the kind of person to just look for reasons to rag on him and he wasn’t going to give them any extra opportunities. If not just because it was fun to watch them struggle as they searched for something wrong with him. “I can’t wait.” 

When he asked her about the devil’s drink she couldn’t help the laugh that echoed through the kitchen. “You know me better than that.” She shook her head, shrugging. “I could only wave off my friends in college for so long. I drank soda most of the time. Though, to be fair, there was one night that my friends got me wasted before I knew what was happening. Virgin drinks that are half simple syrup really hide the alcohol.” She had stumbled home, barely been able to open the door to the house, and nearly fallen down the stairs twice. Her father never came out of his room but the next morning, Kennedy was positive he knew. The 6 a.m. wake up, claiming the church needed them, was a clear sign. Followed by the amount of noise he made the entire time before they left. It was a sadistic thing to do, especially because she hadn’t even intended to drink. Kennedy could count the number of alcoholic beverages she had consumed on one hand: 2 glasses of white wine at her cousin’s wedding three years ago. 1 cocktail on her 21st birthday. 1 beer during the NFL football game an ex-boyfriend had dragged her to. That was it. The taste of it had never really been anything she sought out and it confused her that people actually consumed it willingly most of the time.

There was something oddly calming about the way Oz carried himself now. The Oz she remembered was enthusiastic beyond words, which she could still see but he seemed to simmer with his excitement, like a pot that was always boiling, instead of the rolling boil she remembered. Though, perhaps he still got excitable like that. “I’ll be honest, most of the staff I am going to be working with is female. I think it’d be great to get a male role model into the classroom even if it’s not all the time. Someone who’s not a five foot three brunette.” From her interviews on Skype, most of the staff seemed fairly similar: younger, petite women, like herself, with little diversity mixed in. She’d work on that, somehow.

Glancing down, she crossed her arms against her chest. “The whole afternoon, just for little ole’ me? You really haven’t change that much, have you?” Her smile, though, was genuine. And thankful. In just a single back and forth, she was not upset anymore about knowing someone in this house. The thought, at first, of not being able to really leave Chicago, hadn’t settled well. But she’d be okay with it, eventually. And Oz seemed just as confused as she did when they realized who the other was, so at least she wasn’t alone.

Looking back on that transitional year, Oz had always wondered what he had missed under the surface. Admittedly, he had been wrapped up in his own problems and life at the time to take notice of the little things. And while it had been over a decade ago, he could still look back on some other small moments that had gone over his head at the time, but he now realized might have been signs of something going on. Things that now, he would try to dig into. But then, he had just been a kid, trying to turn his life around. Kennedy didn’t feel half as resentful as she had back then, another thing that made him question. But the past was the past, and if they were both here, both clearly doing well for themselves, he saw no reason to dreg up old memories. He would only be glad that she actually seemed happy to see him. 

He couldn’t help himself from rolling his eyes as she went with the idea of it more readily than he had hoped. But she had been raised in a church with strict morals and even he had taken a while to realize that the rules some churches set were not necessarily hard and fast. “It’s been a while, I figured you could have changed.” He offered. The easy smile shifted away briefly. “Sounds like you had some shitty friends back in college.” It was one thing to disagree with someone’s views; it was another thing entirely to force them into something they didn’t want. He knew a thing or two about either sides of that and he didn’t care to be in either of those positions again. Not that he had ever tricked anyone into drinking, even he had his limits. He wondered if he would see the same old judgmental look if he told her that he still drank (by choice) sometimes, and it was not to take communion. He didn’t think that he would test it just yet, though she would figure it out soon enough on his own. Alcohol had never been his drug of choice, anyway. That had been more, well, drugs. 

She had definitely grown up. That, or time had exaggerated his memories of her brushing him off and trying to subtly cut him down. Still, he couldn’t think of a time she had referred to his presence as a good thing, except maybe when he was leaving. He reminded himself that it was all work related, still not personal. He would give anything to know what she was actually thinking about at the moment. “Anytime you want me, I’ll have to get you my number so you can get in touch with me. As long as I’m not working myself, I’ll be happy to swing by.” It was exactly what he would have offered to anyone else, but he couldn’t help feeling as though it came off a little too eager. It was ridiculous, he knew, and he blamed it on the fact that he had once ( a very long time ago ) had a crush on her. But that had been the young, over-enthusiastic kid who was looking for anything to believe in. 

“I’m not sure that you mean it as a compliment, but I’m going to take it as one anyway.” Somehow he got the feeling that nice was not a word she used to describe people she liked, but he was okay with that. He was confident that he was winning her over in spite of that. Obviously, as her next comment landed and Oz started to laugh again. “I am always happy to provide the breakfast portion.” He offered, getting to work on his own portion of the omelet. A quarter of it was gone in one bite, until he realized that he didn’t have anything to drink and glanced around. “Is there any leftover coffee from this morning? I don’t mind reheating.” 

Kennedy waved him off quickly when he said she hadn’t aged a day. “Oh, they stopped carding me a long time ago, Bumblebee.” As the nickname fell from her lips, her breath hitched in her chest. It really had been a long time since she had called him that. When he got on her nerves somehow, she’d give him a side eye and say something relatively snarky but appropriate for church. Always followed by ‘Bumble bee’. A quip on just how blonde his hair was. All iterations of Oz were off the table. Somehow, that just felt wrong to her. Kennedy was her name and people tried to shorten it all the time - Ken was reserved for a few select people and none of them were in her life any longer. Her mother had been one of them, and once upon her time, she had let her father call her that. Now, though, no one did.

Listening to him speak about how he ended up here had her teaching job seem like small potatoes. He was everything he was supposed to be after coming from what he had come from. She simply tilted her head, smiling, absolutely amazed at the life he had made for himself. She couldn’t help but shy away slightly at the way he was listening to her; he was acting like he really cared about the words that came from her mouth. “Started from the bottom…that’s an impressive story for how you got here. I think the kiddos at school would love you if you wanted to stop in one day. I officially start tomorrow so we’ll have to see how I do, but…” she gestured to the mess in front of her, shaking her head at herself. “You’d think I’d learn to keep the coffee away from the important stuff, but alas.”

Oz felt like he was only hearing half the conversation. He’d gotten used to picking up on those kinds of things in his line of ‘work’, but there was never any easy way to point out, much less when it was an old and antagonistic friend from the past. That had to be it. Everyone he had met in the last decade had known this version of him. A man, a pastor, a missionary. He was open about his past but it was just that; his past. Nobody had seen it. They hadn’t watched him fall off the wagon only to see him try to claw his way back up. Kennedy had. She had disapproved of him back then, and despite himself, he felt like he was nineteen and trying to prove himself once more, sitting in front of her. God, where is my head at? What happened to being past this? He threw up the silent prayer and just the acknowledgement was enough to put him more at ease. 

Both his eyebrows raised. Oz himself didn’t have a problem with drinking or bars (done in moderation), but the church he had met Kennedy in had been nearly as straitlaced as Kennedy herself. He was struggling to fit her into the image of a bar. “Kennedy Johnson, don’t tell me you’ve partook in the devil’s drink?” He asked in a teasing, southern accent. Hell, he’d done some of his best preaching in the middle of a busy bar with a beer in his hand. The old nickname did not go unnoticed, either. That also made him feel like a kid again, but not in the same, bitter way. Rather, it reminded him of the better times spent within the walls of the church, the moments when the two of them had not been at odds. When he had felt normal. There were so many things he had almost forgotten, making him smile now. 

“Ah,” Oz waved a dismissive hand at the praise, shaking his head. “Not like any of it was me, anyway. I think the fancy terms are ‘divine intervention’ or something like that.” As a teacher, she probably had a better idea than him. He still had never so much as finished his high school degree, something he always intended to do, but never found the time or opportunity for. “Really? I would love that kind of opportunity. And I’d like to see you at work.” He could already imagine that it was a sight to behold. From what he remembered, she had always been studious and driven and it certainly looked like that had paid off for her. “You’re going to do amazing.” Remembering the mess, Oz grabbed the towel and started blotting the liquid again. “Alright, what needs to be saved? Rewritten? I’m yours for the afternoon, whatever you need done.”