i, i'm a one-way motorway. i'm a road that drives away, then follows you back home. i, i'm a streetlight shining. i'm a wild light, blinding bright, burning on and off. it's times like these you learn to live again. it's times like these you give and give again. it's times like these you learn to love again. it's times like these, time and time again.
The book she handed over was a paperback so old and creased that it felt soft in her hand. Eric could definitely find it in a library, but Daphne liked loaning out her own copies. She liked the creases in the spine, the curling at the corners of the cover, the little coffee stains dotted here and there on the pages. Proof that they'd been read and loved, many times over. "Slaughterhouse-Five, which the great state of South Carolina is trying to ban from our schools." Her brows raised pointedly, as she took a sip of her coffee. Then her eyes dropped to the book on his side of the table, the last one she'd given to him. "What did you think of that one?" @ericanderson
Eric's brows furrowed as he looked down at the book on his side of the table.
"Ban it? The bathrooms still smell like cotton candy after they banned vapes. The hell is that gonna do?" he asked.
Eric shrugged with a sigh. With his pointer finger and his thumb on opposite sides of his chin, he stroked his beard as he found himself lost in thought.
"It was alright, I guess. The story was interesting enough, but I couldn't care less about free will. I don't know. I liked Steinbeck more," he explained.
Still, his focus stayed glued to the book. He re-examined on the cover with narrowed eyes.
"Did you like it? When you first read it, I mean?"
June stepped out of the restaurant, spotting her uncle's car easily with its blaring Nickelback soundtrack. She couldn't help but roll her eyes and smile. Walking up to the car, she leaned in through the open window and said, "Quit embarrassing me, you know I have small feet and can't run."
She laughed, shaking her head, and then climbed into the passenger seat. "But hey, I brought you something to make up for it." the blonde responded, reaching into her bag and pulling out a box. "Your favorite — fresh dessert from Brine. Consider it a thank you for giving me a ride."
Handing him the box, June settled into her seat, still grinning at his music choice. "Now, can we please turn down the volume? I had to deal with a Karen and I've got a headache."
Eric took the box from June and pulled it in towards himself with a quick swipe. He squinted his eyes as he opened the box to view what was inside. Then, as he looked back at June, he attempted to maintain his poker face.
"Blueberry," he commented.
A smile grew on his face as he closed the box back up and placed it at his feet.
"What do you wanna listen to? I've got Hannah Montana, the Jonas Brothers, Backside Boys-- whatever you want."
Setting: The beach of Marshall Island.
Time: Late morning.
For: @charliejackson
“Woah!” Eric hollers.
He grits his teeth and leans back as he uses all of his might to pull. The strength required causes him to shuffle back on the little boat, but he sighs as he feels the pressure release.
“I lost him. That must’ve been a bluefin or something. Damn,” he says.
As he exhales, he looks back at Charlie and chuckles to himself.
Setting: The parking lot of Brine.
Time: Evening.
For: @juneirvin
At a quarter after nine, Eric honks his horn once in front of the Brine restaurant. With this loud greeting, he rolls down his window and sits back, still gripping the steering wheel. He groans as he doesn’t see her face anywhere.
“Come on, now. I’m trying to drive you home and get to bed!” Eric calls out from the window.
Then, with an eye roll, he turns up his radio, allowing himself to blare the sweet, soothing sounds of Nickelback’s “How You Remind Me”. With the glares he received from others shuffling out and the mindless waves he gave in return, it was clear that perhaps this wasn’t the best move. Still, the crooning sounds of Chad Kroeger’s beautiful voice fills the air in her absence. Now, all Eric has to do is wait.
Setting: In front of the local high school.
Time: Early morning.
For: @campbellrory
The ball hits the ground in front of Eric, and he sighs. Then, leaning down, he places his hands on his knees and tries to catch his breath with all his dear might.
“And this is what my daughter does on your team?” he pants.
His eyes widen as he shakes his head. Then, he throws his hands up in defense.
“Man, am I out of shape. Alright. You win,” he admits.
The man wasn't wrong. Charging through a parking lot of all places was ill advised, but there was a fearlessness to Alejandra that kept her completely unperturbed by the possibility of something happening. As far as she was concerned, the worst had already happened. She gave a vague wave of her hand in response to his shout, staggered footsteps still moving her forward to the hood of his car.
"Not broken yet," she corrected before tapping a hand on the hood a few times to signal to the man to open it up.
She had a pretty confident explanation of the hissing noise in the car, but wanted to keep a look under the hood just to make sure. As someone who worked in the field for as long as she had, she knew how easily people could get taken advantage of at a shop if they didn't know what they were talking about. At least she could arm the guy with some information so he had less of a chance of getting fleeced.
"Let me take a look. I don't know what mechanics around here charge, but at least I can give you an estimate so you don't get fully fucked when you get it done," she offered.
As he stays there, parked on the side of the road, he tilts his head so that his ear is facing towards the car. He wasn't sure if the hissing was growing louder or if it was just his newfound awareness screaming at him to listen to this woman and figure it out.
"How long do you think we have before it busts, do you think?" he asks.
He rubs the dashboard, as if he was giving it reassurance for whatever result was about to occur. Then, he grabs the door handle and opens the door ever-so-slightly, so he could get out.
"So you don't do this kind of thing? 'Cause, man, you'd be good at it. If you're running at people from across the road to flag them down, you know."
"Probably because I make you feel good about the decision not to follow in your old man's footsteps," She pointed out, referencing the exact reason why they'd ended up clicking at the bar. One night and a few beers led to some talking and eventually, they realized that they were both products of military men. Unlike Skipper, who chose to follow in the exact path her dad had carved out for her from an early age, the other ended up as a high school gym teacher, completely free of scars and trauma — from the military, at least.
She snickered at his comment about the poor teens, though she couldn't bring herself to defend them. Teenagers were assholes most days. She would know, considering she was once one of those asshole teenagers.
"Honey, you are a misguided snake," the blonde quickly shoots back and her eyes glint with amusement as she hops off of her barstool and nods in the direction of the dartboard. "Dealing with you both is just a part of the job. C'mon, get those old bones moving before they lock up so I can kick your ass in darts and you can owe me two."
Eric's eyebrows raise and his lips thin as he smiles and nods.
"And you know how to bum out a room," he says.
The joking insult flung his way causes Eric to shake his head and laugh harder.
"I don't even know what the hell that means," he shrugs.
But with Skipper's invitation, his eyes widen. He stands up, but only to face her and question his surroundings.
"Come on. I came here to drink. You're gonna make us play party games? No. This is where I put my foot down. No. I'm not a kid at some five-year-old's birthday. I'm not making a fool of myself. You can pin the tail on the donkey right on out of here. What did I do to you?"
Her gaze sparkled with the amusement of the other's words, eyes rolling to avoid the chuckle that threatened to escape her lips. Maybe after a few drinks he'd get it out of her, but she couldn't dare drop her stoic nature while sober and have everyone thinking she was soft, could she? "If that's what you like, who am I to judge?" Head tilted in his direction, considering the pros and cons of actually needing to deal with kids and nosebleeds and anything related to trying to get teenagers to be any sort of physically active. "At least a nosebleed means someone is doing something," Skipper pointed out as she accepted her beer from the bartender with a thankful nod of appreciation.
"Not sure if I ever told you, but I excelled at gym class. My teacher loved me." Never had to tell her twice, at least. She aced the mile, aced the rope climbing, even reigned champion for a few weeks in dodgeball. "Don't worry about it. I'm single, no kids, not even a parakeet to my name. What else am I supposed to spend my pension on?" The mention of kids quickly gnawed at her stomach, it was the sole reason she was in Marshall Island in the first place, but it was also something she kept closely guarded. She wasn't quite there with the other yet. "A few misguided snakes and a hiker that got turned around, not much I couldn't handle, but it beats sitting in the office handing out maps to tourists, at least."
closed starter for @ericanderson somewhere near the wave and save
If it were up to Alejandra, she would find any possible reason to never leave the house at all, let alone to have to make a trip out around the people of the town. Navigating already posed its share of difficulties for her now that she exclusively walked or biked everywhere. Toss in the challenges of actually getting around with her bad hip and a simple trip to the store was a chore that left her winded, pissed off, and ready to fight the next person she saw. She was hobbling her way out of the store with a few grocery bags for the family she was living with when she heard a very familiar, very troubling sound. There weren't many things that AJ knew about, but cars was it for her. Just a few seconds of listening to an engine and she could diagnose a dozen problems just from a subtle tick or an off rhythm thud and whoever was pulling into the nearest parking space was lucky their car was even still running.
Every part of her was telling her to just fuck off and not bother. It wasn't her problem, she didn't know the guy, and therefore she didn't care about the guy. But, the flash of what could happen if his engine blew at the wrong time had her stop, groan loudly, and let herself hobble over towards his door. It was probably a bit of a threatening look to have her charging towards the door he was just about to get out of, a thought that didn't occur to her at all as she approached. "Hey, yo! Do what you want with this, but your engine is fucked. So, you know. Whatever. It's not - the fix won't take a good mechanic long." It was a poor attempt at trying to be kind, something that AJ wasn't particularly good at, but the act of at least putting the warning out there felt like a kind enough deed for the rest of the week.
Eric zoomed ahead towards the Wave and Save in a haze. All the while, a mysterious hissing noise seemed to be coming from his vehicle. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed a yellow outline of a light flickering. Then, right as he was about to turn into the Wave and Save parking lot, he noticed a woman charging towards his car. The sight of it made him hit the brakes and turn his head. His eyes were widened and he suddenly leaned back against the seat, as if he saw a cheetah coming at him from the middle of the road. Still, he rolled his windows down.
"You're gonna hurt yourself out here!" He hollered.
But her warning was enough to get him to tilt his head, squint his eyes, and keep his window down.
"It's not broken," He shrugged.
His eyes widened as it dawned on him. Finally, Eric sighed.
"How's your throwing arm today, old man?" Skipper offered a cracked grin of her lips that hadn't come with ease. It was rare to get such a display of amusement from the blonde, a splinter of her stoic exterior and rather doom and gloom state of mind, but the man on the stool at the bar of the Drunken Seagull grew on her, crawled beneath her skin until he settled there and amusement and grinning and sometimes even laughter felt normal with him. She couldn't help but wonder if that's what real family was supposed to feel like. Her gaze flitted toward the dartboard across the room and then back to him as she took a seat next to him at the somewhat sticky bar and ordered them both beers. There was nothing wrong with his arm, they both knew that. In fact, Skipper reckoned that her body had been worn down much more than his after years of running it into the ground, but she couldn't bare to let him forget just how much older he was than her. "Enjoying your time off from teaching kids that actually dodging a ball is exactly how dodgeball works?"
As a voice made itself known behind him, Eric whipped his head around to find the same familiar face in a stool at the same familiar bar, throwing out the same familiar jokes. His shoulders raised as he cracked a smile and shook his head with a soft chuckle. "You're a pain in my ass. My body is broken," He laughed. As the soft laughter settled and the smile faded, he sighed with a shrug. "You know what they say. You can't teach an old dog new tricks, or any trick at all. If no one gave a kid a nosebleed, it's a win for me." Then, he offered a relaxed smile as he looked down at the sticky bar, only to find a drink in front of him. His eyebrows raised at the sight of it. "Hey, you didn't have to. I could've covered that. I'm mad now. Come on." The bare hint of a growing smirk said otherwise. "Rough day at work?"
GOAL: All Eric has ever wanted was to feel worthy.
OBSTACLE: Maybe it was his father’s disapproving groans. Maybe it was the fact that he was the last kid in his class to learn how to read. Maybe it was his failure to pass the sixth grade the first time. Maybe it was the shoulder-slumping, eyes-widening, pity-filled sighs in his hometown of Lancaster, South Carolina. Or maybe the only thing that was ever in the way of him and a sturdy foundation was him.
PLAN OF ACTION: Eric Anderson just doesn’t know how to quit. If he had to work twice as hard as his classmates, so be it. If he had to spend longer in the locker room to get himself back together after failure, so be it. Sweat could not be a game-stopper. Fear could not be a roadblock. So here was the plan: Go to a community college. Major in nutrition and health. Transfer to a school with a high acceptance rate, like Coker University, for instance. Aim for a football scholarship for good measure. Get a job. Find a wife. Raise his kids to never feel as worthless as he did. Build a secure atmosphere for the world around him, something sturdy enough to fence everyone in. Work his ass to the bone to make that happen.
TURN-OUT: Now, Eric Anderson is fifty-one. He doesn’t run the way he used to. He doesn’t sweat the way he used to. He can’t catch up with the team. He’s been with the local high school in Marshall Island for twenty-six years now, and over time, hamstrings have been pulled. His morale has been questioned. He’d be lying if he said he hadn’t thought about throwing in the towel before, but Eric Anderson just doesn’t know how to quit.
NEW GOAL: Find out how long he can do what he’s doing without going back to the kid he used to be.
NEW PLAN OF ACTION: Take a moment to catch his breath. Look around at the life he’s breathed into his surroundings. Observe. Accept.
NEW OBSTACLE: The tight-lipped, wide-eyed nervous smile he sees on the kid in the old family photos, desperate to prove his worth.
𝐅𝐔𝐍 𝐅𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐒.
He gives great talks. If you need some advice, he’s your guy. It doesn’t matter whether you grew up in Marshall Island or not. You need him to talk some sense into you, he’s there.
He unironically loves what most people would call “2000s butt rock”. Nickelback, Daughtry, Puddle of Mudd, etc. He doesn’t consider it a guilty pleasure, either. He doesn’t quite know it’s taboo. He’ll just show up with it blasting in his car.
He’s aware of his zodiac sign. He knows he’s an Aries. He just has no clue what it means.
During his summers off, he’ll spend some of his time fishing. If you catch a 6’0 guy in a backwards snapback, tank top, and cargo shorts with a fishing rod in his hand, that’s him.
His favorite show is Yellowstone for some reason.
His favorite color is red. It’s also his favorite color to wear.
He’s been teaching in this town since 1998, and it was the first district to hire him.
