do I get callous or do I stay tender

Date: Midnight | September 8, 2005

Closed starter for @themickey

Thirty years old and it still felt naughty to be alone in the kitchen past ten, but maybe that was because everything was still where it always had been, a living memorial to the past.

Frankie crept in barefoot, the susurration of beading on her dress hinting that she was there in the dark. She felt for the light switch without needing to see it, knew the tinny kitchen radio would be perched on the window sill ready to be tuned to 106.7 Lite FM at a low volume. The bread was in the pantry, cheese was on the third shelf of the fridge, butter on the left side door. Pots were stored under the large marble island in the middle of the kitchen, but the stainless steel pans, perfect for a late-night grilled cheese, were hung above the stoves.

She went through the familiar motions, preparing the bread and resting both slices to toast on the stove-top (with four slices of cheese, because why do less when you could do more?) Delilah queueing up late-night Macy Gray kept her company as the smell of melting butter filled the air.

Above the sizzling pan, the sound of footsteps. "I'm going to do the dishes!" Frankie shouted, a preemptive defense, turning sharply, prepared to see Mrs. Tristan looming.

she was on her way to the terrace to have a cigarette when she heard noises coming from the kitchen. it was the middle of the night, everyone should be asleep but it seems like one of her siblings were also struggling falling asleep. she walked into the kitchen to see frankie in the middle of cooking something. doing the mental math, mickey figured out what time it was in italy and assumed frankie must have some jet lag from her travel since she arrived so late into the week.

she laughed when frankie jumped straight into defending herself to mrs. tristian who was probably sound asleep next door in the staff quarters. "sorry, didn't mean to send you back to being a kid," she said with a chuckle. "uh, sure, what are you making?"

Lifting her drink up to her mouth for a sip, she urged Mickey forward with the raise of her brows, watching with bubbling amusement as the other ward made her to the other side of the room. Did she feel concern that this could go very terribly? Some, admittedly. Anything could happen in a townie bar in upstate New York. But she also figured with a mind as big as hers, Mickey could be quick on her feet and find a way to diffuse the situation if it went awry.

Natalia watched the scene like a judge on a panel, issuing points for things she believed were positive about the exchange. Smiles. Laughter. An actual back-and-forth. Amiable seeming at that. It wasn't until Mickey was walking towards her with a wide grin on her face that Natalia remembered she'd put money on this.

"A wife?" Natalia looked impressed. "I knew I was right about those overalls." She reached into her purse and procured a crisp twenty to hand Mickey. But just before she let the bill touch the other ward's palm, Natalia stopped and reminded her there were two conditions to winning the twenty dollar prize. "What's her middle name?"

mickey held her hand out to receive her reward but then natalia pulled it away. "oh come on! i told you middle names were weird!" she thought about lying for a second, just make up some random name because natalia would never go over there to confirm if mickey had actually gotten her middle name. but mickey was fair and not very good at lying. "i got her wife's name, that should count for something," she said with a laugh.

when kamon ask if she wanted to talk, mickey kept her face neutral, not wanting to show how much she really didn't want to talk. she knew it was strange and of course kamon would notice how off she seemed. they used to talk all the time, he was always the constant in all of her visits over the years, he was the only one who stayed home with his work the foundation. but now, now mickey knew that he and richard had a falling out and how guilty richard felt about it. "sure, we can talk," she said anyway, smiling at the boy as if this hasn't been plaguing her mind for the past thirty six hours. "how are you holding up?"

There was that sinking feeling again. The bereft, lusterless, autumn stretched out in front of her, and there was the liquor, oozing artificial color; she felt a sick sort of inevitability when Frankie said, I thought everything could use a pick-me-up. God, wasn’t it all so fucking dour? And she showed up and sang a sad song, thinking only of doom—what the fuck was she doing? She was suddenly seized by the idea that maybe she wasn’t any better when she was sober, just way more fucking sad. Hadn’t she still managed to torpedo her own life all along, and done it dry, to boot? And if she was afraid of being like her mom, well, it was probably too late for that; and it wasn’t like there was anybody left for Reece to try to make proud. 

Baby hair at the back of Reece’s neck prickled while she watched Frankie finish pouring the last of the shots. She swallowed hard, trying to imagine a following sequence of events that included the preservation of her sobriety, but she came up blank. She thought vaguely and distantly of coping mechanisms, of Zelda from Queens who didn’t even know about Richard, because Reece had decided not to tell her, as she’d decided not to tell her about Jack. Reece felt a hot pillar of self-loathing radiating from her ribcage, right between her lungs, and she heard Zelda’s rasping voice saying acutely, Doesn’t matter if you’re dry if you still act like a drunk. That terrible feeling: something that could be crystal-clear hindsight, clouded and complicated and confused by grief and by guilt, and all of the other awful feelings. She felt like a lost cause, something contemptible, and the fact of her drinking the Somewhere Over the Rainbow seemed suddenly predetermined, formidable. 

so when reece told her, once again, cover for me, of course mickey did even if there a knot at the pit of her stomach. she knew better than to stop reece, especially with all of their siblings right there. she felt like she was transported back ten years, the small teenager who couldn't quiet understand the things reece was telling her to do, frozen in fear of losing her friend.

mickey watched as reece took one of the cups, turned, and drank it. she didn't take one for herself, she left it untouched. one out of sixteen, plausible deniability for reece's sobriety if any of the others were to look too closely. when the other girl sets the cup down in front of her, mickey quickly replaced reece's hand over the rim and looked at her. she wanted to pull her away, to talk to her, but naomi was standing up and taking her turn. instead, she locked eyes with her and silently asked; do you feel better now? was it worth it? but most of all, are you okay? what should i do?

"I'll give you 20 bucks if you go flirt with a townie," she told Mickey once they were standing by the counter again. "What about her, over there?" She jutted her chin toward a woman on the other side of the room. Probably in her 30s. Sandy blonde hair. Looked like someone's sporty aunt. "She's wearing overalls, that's like... a good thing, right?" Wearing overalls as an adult told Natalia one of two things: that you worked on a farm or you were gay. "Get her... middle name. And her favorite color."

taking a sip of her beer, she nearly spit it out at natalia's challenge. "i- what?" she looked over to the woman she was pointing out. she wasn't unattractive but the idea of going up to a stranger and flirting with her without knowing if she was gay or some homophobic townie was scary. mickey hasn't flirted with anyone since she met jessica and even with jessica, she was oblivious to the face that jessica actually liked her. but...tonight was about having fun and mickey was very easily persuaded. "okay, deal. but asking for a middle name is weird."

though, since she was sober, she was wide wake. she tried sleeping but no sleep came for her, which lead her to wander the house until she found herself in the movie theater with some movie playing quietly on the screen that she was barely paying attention to.

hearing a knock on the door, mickey looked up to see kamon step inside. "hey," she said softly with a smile. she hadn't meant to avoid kamon, they used to be so close in all the times mickey would visit over the years, but ever since she read what she did in richard's journal the day before, she has been having trouble looking him in the eyes. she hated having secrets and this secret was pretty huge. "yeah, of course. i couldn't sleep and thought maybe a movie would help, so far, it hasn't."

It was nice for Mickey to say these things, but stubbornness lived in Natalia like the chip that had yet to be pried from deep within her shoulder. Mickey couldn't understand because she was chosen by Richard after all. Plucked from a sea of misfortune for her sharp mind. Natalia was… a favor? A sad story brought in front of him by someone he knew. She wasn’t noteworthy otherwise. Her tragedy was practically the most striking thing about her. But in a house like Woodrow, where grief and pain seemed to lurk around every corner, tragedy meant nothing. In her mind, there was no choice but to try and keep up with them. How else could she feel like she deserved to be among them?

You're working for a famous fashion designer on Paris of all places. You are talented in ways I could never be. Natalia wanted to laugh. Truly, just let out the most big and bellowing laugh. Mickey had no idea. As a child, Natalia couldn’t fathom being unruly because being unruly in the house she came from meant shattered plates and yelling. She also only taught Mickey English because she needed help with Math in return; she didn’t exactly have a heart of gold. And right now, the thing that was supposedly impressive about her – a job with a famous fashion designer in Paris – she didn’t even have that. So really, there was nothing. Mickey was getting choked up over things she didn’t know the whole truth of. If Natalia was good for anything, maybe it was covering up ugly truths, fashioning them to seem pretty and digestible when they were the opposite.

It became clear very quickly to Natalia that it was a mistake to bring up Richard, even casually. Something as innocent as a question about whether or not she chose to forget a few gardening techniques has turned into a moment of vulnerability from Mickey that was sure to linger in Natalia's mind long after their fun night out came to a close.

“Yeah, maybe talking about Richard wasn’t the move,” she admitted, forcing a soft chuckle to help ease the heaviness of the moment. “I’m supposed to be cheering you up, not bumming you out. Let’s go back inside.” She put out her cigarette, hooked her arm around Mickey’s, and led her back in.

she doesn't push natalia when she doesn't say anything. she knew how the other girl was, she had walls higher than woodrow itself. it was nearly impossible for natalia to let someone see past them. mickey was grateful for any crack she was able to peak into. she just let it go, hoping that natalia knew how much she cared about her.

taking natalia's arm, she laughed lightly. "it's okay, deep conversations are nice, but maybe not this soon." she loved talking about richard, but it was still too fresh to really let it sink in that he was really gone. opening the door for them, she walked back into the bar. "let's get another drink and pretend were in the city, surrounded by fun, hot people to flirt with or something instead of a bunch of old townies."

where: mickey's room

with: @themickey

eliza had been feeling out of sorts the entire day. in any other occasion the talent show would have been a fun, easy time, but richard's absence was like a well hidden cut, always present, always bleeding. standing in the spare room with her siblings, it had been suffocating. so, after twisting and turning in her bed, eliza had given up on a reasonable bed time and set out to discover if the day had been weighting down on anyone else. that's why she knocked on mickey's door and slipped her head inside. "hey. you awake?" she mock-whispered.

"Gosh, Reece did you so dirty that first year when you were still trying to learn English. I'm surprise you didn't try to burn her hair off in her sleep." Natalia couldn't help but let out a breathy little laugh. "But hey, you figured it out eventually." She leaned into Mickey just a little, bumping their arms briefly. Clearly oblivious to the struggle it must have been for someone so young, not only new to the house but to the language that was predominantly used in it.

If Natalia were less intoxicated, she wouldn't have answered as quickly as she did. But with the four shots (or was it five?) they had ingested, her mouth was moving before her brain could really consider the consequences. "Yes," she answered. "I mean, I know Richard had us go on all of those outings, and we were talking to a variety of people from staff to his friends, but they were all adults. It's just… different, socializing with people your age that you didn't grow up with. Especially in a school setting." She looked at Mickey, pressing her lips together in a sympathetic look. She had no idea that was something she struggled with during her first year at Kingsbury.

"It's another reason I chose to attend private school for a bit, actually. Part of me was scared of falling behind. I don't know if it's just part of growing up at Woodrow and not being as naturally gifted as some of you are, but I always felt like I had to keep improving. That there was this invisible something that I was trying to keep up with." If intelligence and accomplishments weren't going to be where she could outdo people, Natalia knew she had to pick something the others didn't care to prioritize. Whether it was her appearance or how she socialized, it was important for her to curate an image of excellence in some way, shape, or form.

Hearing Mickey admit that she had only partaken in gardening at the greenhouse to make Richard happy, Natalia felt safe sharing that, "Yeah, me too. I don't like wearing the gloves. It also smelled too much like dirt in there sometimes." While she could be meticulous and was no stranger to consistency, the whole process of gardening wasn't something she had the patience to appreciate.

"You know, I was talking to Eliza today while we were all at the greenhouse, and we talked about the things we learned in there. How some people chose to forget and some people can't. Did you ever try to forget the stuff Richard taught you there? To make space for other things or just… because you know, you weren't into gardening."

"exactly, it was very different. i got used to it after awhile, but it was strange to meet people who didn't understand me or the way we grew up." maybe that was why she fell so hard for jessica, she was the first person to show her attention and like her, of course mickey would fall in love with her. "sometimes i wish i went to the private school like you and the others, but it was so hard for me to focus and learn in traditional schools. my teachers before woodrow all hated me."

hearing natalia's confession, mickey couldn't help but feel her heart break a little. or maybe that was just the alcohol talking. "natalia..." she said softly. "you never had to keep up with us. we were just kids and we're all different people. i know there was a lot of pressure on us growing up, but you were great in your own ways. i looked up to you when we were younger, i still do. you were always so well behaved, even if i hated how you would scold me and reece and meera. you helped my learn english when everyone else just ignored me. even now, you're working for a famous fashion designer on paris of all places. you are talented in ways i could never be." she was looking at natalia all while she was saying this and when she got to the last part, she felt her throat tighten a little and had to look away. she forced herself to take a hit of the cigarette just to push away the emotions she was feeling.

"i don't think i could ever forget the things richard taught us," she admitted, looking down at her feet. "my whole childhood... it's a lot of forgotten memories, things i don't want to remember. but richard? he was everything to me. i hope i remember everything to the day i die."

she pressed the heel of her hand into her eye, not because she was crying, but because she was worried that she might start to. flicking the cigarette away, she straightened up and turned to natalia. "ugh dieu, that got way too deep. i'm going to need another drink if we keep this up," she said with a laugh.

"No, not at all. Right now, my front-runner is cleaning up the kitchen." Naomi had managed to work her up to being able to avoid doing cleanup, letter the less experienced staff handle it, but the risk of humiliation with the alternative was too great. "It's hard to make cooking exciting to watch, I'm not exactly an Iron Chef." Though, it was the host who brought the theatrics there.

Naomi looked at Mickey as she thought about the other carefully. Mickey was incredibly talented and gifted in Naomi's eyes, brilliant in some that so few people could even begin to understand. "I understand. You are really talented, it's the making it a show on short notice that's tricky." Her mouth turned down when Naomi realized she didn't have a good suggestion for Mickey. "You could always draw the constellations, though we would be probably be taking your word for it that it's accurate."

mickey smiled when naomi said she could draw constellations, but she also had a point that know would know if it was accurate. "natalie suggested i do a hard equation or something and i also pointed out that no one would know if it was right or not. not really a good show when some of the others have fun talents to show off." she wished she had stuck with music or something when she was younger but she had such a hard time focusing on learning sheet music. "i did like fencing growing up. natalia said i should bring [the misunderstood] up and let them try to take a whack at me. do you think that would be fun to watch?"