andrea — introduction.
amara — introduction.

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@southncharm
andrea — introduction.
amara — introduction.
DANTE DREW IN A BREATH. It didn’t use to be this hard talking to Amara and yet, here he was, pinching the bridge of his nose in annoyance because he would much rather do this some other place at some other time, but Dante didn’t want to feel like he was (once again) holding her back from living the life that she had always wanted and deserved to live. If anything, one could say that the professor would have given Amara the world if he could, but from the looks of it, that was yet another thing that he had failed to accomplish. A sigh escaped his lips as he opened his eyes and his gaze found hers. God, where had he gone wrong? Why couldn’t he see that even though they were so much alike, their biggest difference would be the one to tear them apart? “ What do you want from me, Amara? ” He asked in a breath. Yes, Dante knew exactly where they were and how much it would cost him to stand there and talk to his ex-wife in the middle of the parking lot. “ You asked me to sign the papers, I signed the papers. Figured you were in a hurry to get the fuck out of here, like you’ve always wanted to. ” Leaning back against the car’s door, it almost felt like the weight of having that conversation was starting to crush him. Right now, standing under the moonlight, it almost broke his heart all over again to watch her and see her this beautiful. Dante had to make a mental note not to ask any questions about her life outside of Deer Valley. The less he knew, the better. “ I don’t know, something tells me that if I’d asked some days to read the files, you’d probably find an excuse to belittle me, wouldn’t you? ” Hadn’t she done so when he asked her to wait a few days before submitting the papers? “ Feels like I can’t win when it comes to this. Us. ” Not that there had been any ‘us’ for the last six years, but Dante wasn’t going to stumble onto his own words and correct himself. Whatever was said, he would keep his words and not change them. “ You’re what? ” The professor blinked a couple of times, then pushed himself away from where he’d been leaning against after the younger woman mentioned staying in town because she’d gotten a job.
“ Let me see if I get this straight… " Once again, Dante pinched the bridge of his nose. He could feel a small hint of a headache starting. " First, you get all frustrated about me asking you to wait to submit the papers, going on about having a life to get back to in New York, then you’re sticking around because you got yourself a job? ” He furrowed his brows as he watched her. Did she use to be this confusing? Dante couldn’t say that he remembered her like that. “ Seriously, Amara… what do you want from me? I need you to tell me because I honestly don’t understand you. Next thing I know you’ll want us to pop a bottle of champagne and drink to the good old days? Or would it be to our divorce? ”
'what do you want from me?'
Something. She didn't know quite what it was, but Amara knew that she had wanted some sort of reaction from him rather than stoic emptiness when he'd put pen to paper and signed away their marriage. It wasn't fair given the fact that she'd continuously run away from their sacred union and only returned to face it when she was ready to put an end to it. But this wasn't about fair. Emotions and expections weren't always fair or even comprehensible and this certainly wasn't any of that... much less to her.
"I don't know. i mean, I'm not saying that I need anything from you but I just expected that you would take a second." Frustration was creeping up but it was at her own inability to keep her emotions at bay when it came to these things. "I am in a hurry to get this over with but I want to do it right." The last thing they both deserved was to have to go through all of this a year later once they found out that something was missing or not filed correctly.
"Be-little you?" Her hands found her hips in a defensive stance, squaring her shoulders and narrowing her eyes. This sort of interaction had been rare from them as they'd never fought much while they were married so she was slightly taken back on how to even go into an accusation such as this one. "How do you think I would be-little you? I've never done that. At least not intentionally, but it seems like you feel that i've done something intentionally to hurt you. I know that my actions have hurt you, Dante, but you have to know that they were never directed towards you. I needed to make certain decisions for myself and I'm sorry that you were hurt in the process of that but I've never gone out of my way to do something to you out of spite, anger, or anything else."
She was a lot of things. Selfish, rude, conceited at times. But never had she been someone who was cruel. Certainly not to someone that she loved.
As he spoke again, she held back the roll of her eyes because she couldn't understand how they were here now. They'd once been able to communicate without even uttering a word but now it felt like everything she was saying was being twisted or miscomprehended. Perhaps distance away and growing up to be different people would do that. "That's not it."
"I found a job before because I've been here for a few weeks trying to figure out how to approach the situation. My landlord had flagged that i was late on my rent so I found a job as a means to give myself more time before I got into all of this." It was a means to have control over the situation in order to get it done the way that she felt most comfortable but tonight had changed all of that. "I'm fine with being here for longer but I anticipated that since you signed, I'd stay here for the length of it getting processed in case something else was needed. Not an extra time before filing it— but I did tell you that it was okay to wait a week. So, truly, I don't know what you want more from me?"
"God! You must think I'm some cold bi— person who just strides in demanding a divorce and that I'm just doing jumping jacks over it. Like, do you even remember what type of person that I am?" Her gaze met his and searched it for some kind of recognition in there. "I wasn't upset. I merely was exasperated for a second! God forbid! You're acting like I'm some kind of monster. I'm not asking for you to spend time with me. If you want to avoid me then by all means, but no, I wasn't going to ask us to kumbaya about all of this. I thought we could be cordial in the least. But since you're feeling some kind of way, how about you just get it all out since you've already started."
AERI DIDN’T KNOW MUCH ABOUT BEING IN THE SYSTEM. She knew about moving while young, but nothing else in between. Besides, there has always been this strange desire of belonging in her that often made her adapt to different people and different places with ease. ❝ Believing in luck and curses would mean that you also believe in meritocracy, which, I’m sure you don’t… so… ❞ Biting soft on her bottom lip, Aeri then moved across her own kitchen to fill a glass of water for herself. Drinking was nice and all, but she’d learned the hard way to always match wine with water, especially if she was planning on working the following day (which she was. Even if she wasn’t driving to Denver for it). A lot of things were off about what Amara was saying, but, instead of being an annoyance, Aeri decided that it was none of her business and that she wasn’t going to keep poking the other woman about it. It was a journalist’s job to remain impartial anyway. ❝ I know you didn’t ask for my opinion, but more than ‘fitting to someone’s mold’, you should find your own to fit into. ❞ And maybe she wasn’t talking about herself when she mentioned someone else fitting into that mold, but as someone who had done that a lot when it came to her romantic partners, Aeri felt like she needed to say something about it. ❝ Believe me… I would’ve loved to find someone who fell madly in love with me and I could finally be myself with, but that hasn’t happened yet. ❞ Some days, she felt like it never would. That everyone around her would be happily married, with kids on the way and she would only have her work to account for, which was also an important part of herself. It just wasn't all of herself. And yet, the world kept on spinning. ❝ So, the roast is because you’re anxious about giving him the papers? ❞
Her mouth parted and her brows knitted together as she mouthed the word back to her friend. Amara wasn't the brightest light in the showroom but she knew that word was also an hard one. "Can you use that in a sentence? No, I'm kidding. Except I'm not. I don't think I know the definition of that word so you're probably right." That she didn't believe in that. Frankly, she hadn't really put much thought in whether or not she was cursed but more that she was someone who attracted something that just didn't appeal to her. No matter how hard she wished for an outcome, it never came true.
The truth was that she hadn't put much thought into any of this. As always, impulsivity took over and given that she wasn't one that worked well under stress— she did everything not to think with the decisions she was making. She'd impulsively decided that she needed to get divorced immediately but dragged her feet rather than actually thinking about the ins and out of asking Dante for a divorce by finding a job here, finding ridiculous recipes to focus on, do anything but hunt him down and serve him the papers. "I think if I had to sit down and really think about it," she chewed on the inside of her cheek. "It had nothing to do with the mold. Well, I don't know. I feel like it could have worked if I wanted to stay here." They'd been so in love that she couldn't fathom not finding ways to make things work but being married required them sharing a life together and that wasn't plausible if she wanted her life to be elsewhere.
"The roast is because I don't want to think about it. I'm kind of panicking about seeing him again and I don't know why." Perhaps it was being in town, or seeing him, or maybe this new big shift in her life. This newfound desire to be with someone longterm and to have something similar to what she'd had in the past.
IT ONCE AGAIN DAWNED ON HIM THAT MAYBE, just maybe, they had never been compatible to begin with. Both with different dreams, different aspirations, but the same desire to love and be loved—and, just like it had been proven true, love wasn’t enough to keep two people together. ❝ I don’t need your apologies. ❞ He thought about how things had ended more often than not. He thought about how he should have let her go much sooner, or maybe tried harder to make her accept Deer Valley, but it had always been clear that… ❝ You’ve always been crystal clear about how you felt about this town. It’s on me for not paying more attention. ❞ He admitted, in defeat. Because if he had, then they probably wouldn’t have gotten married in the first place. They would have had their fling and would have gone on their way. No harm done, no painful goodbye. Or maybe he would have even gotten a goodbye. But Dante had been so wrapped around her little finger, so blindly following her around like an obedient puppy that he couldn’t see what was right in front of him, screaming to get away from Deer Valley the first chance she got. He thought that traveling every summer and for the holidays could help quench her thirst for getting away, but maybe it only fed into her need to leave. After all, why stay in a small town when the rest of the world was waiting for you?
Once everything was said and done and Dante met her outside to finally sign the papers she had brought there to serve him, the young professor still tried to remain composed. She had asked for civility and he had no reason to be angry at her anymore. Six years had passed. He didn’t even act married anymore, so why was he angry? Yet something else for him to discuss with his therapist and try to understand, but he had decided he wasn’t going to be angry at Amara anymore. Relationships ended every day. More often than they started. ❝ Amara, I never told you not to go back to New York. ❞ Dante explained as he took the papers from her hands and leaned them against her car’s window to sign them. ❝ I just asked you to wait a little to submit them to your lawyer, that’s all. Don’t worry, I wasn’t the reason you stayed here six years ago, I won’t be the reason you stay now. ❞ Especially when their feelings had changed and resentment had blossomed between them. Or maybe it was only in Dante’s heart. Still, his words harbored no ill-intentions or heaviness as he said them. Maybe it was his way of saying goodbye. Letting go of what he had started to five years ago.
He clicked his pen off and handed her the signed papers. It was official now. They had absolutely no ties holding them to one another and maybe, if things had happened on a lighter note, they would have celebrated with one last hurrah in bed, but now, his chest felt heavy, his brain was foggy and his shoulders hung weary. ❝ I appreciate the week though, Ames. ❞ Even the nickname he’d once used so tenderly with her, now felt dry on his tongue. Everything in this life ended. The things we held dear just tended to hurt more than the others. With those last words, Dante stepped closer, eyes searching for any sign of denying his approach, even more when his hand wrapped around the nape of her neck and he leaned in, pressing a kiss on her forehead. ❝ I hope you’ve found all that you were looking for out there. ❞ He said, before stepping back and granting her space once more. After their heated argument in the middle of the condiments aisle, it was indeed odd that Dante had stripped off of that resentment and animosity, but what else could he do? Scream and kick his feet like a pathetic, spoiled child? ❝ You take good care of yourself, yeah? ❞
One last nod shot at her direction and Dante turned around, aiming to go back to his car.
Her mouth parted to try and argue but she knew that revisiting what could have been done differently, or should have been spoken about, six years later was a waste of time for the both of them. They both should have put more emphasis on what they wanted and where they saw their future rather than so focused on the right now with each other. It was as if nothing else existed except them whenever they found themselves in the same room and though she hadn't been sure what her future looked like with him then, all Amara cared about was that there was one. She assumed they'd figure it out at a latter time. When that time never came, she found herself panicked. "Can we talk about this somewhere else?" Ears were everywhere in this little town and she didn't know why she cared but she was highly aware of the way gossip could spread like wildfire. She was still in town, and despite having no reason to ever come back to this town after they divorced, it still gnawed at her.
She wondered if he believed that she had made it big in new-york city? Perhaps it was the belief that people had to be a big shot to be able to survive in a city that was so expensive— and for a lot of people it was the case— except Amara was working multiple jobs in order to pay her bills. Sure, she would return to new-york and file the papers there and have her lawyers figure out the rest but she didn't know how complex things would get. Whether or not she would need to return because there was an issue or they would need to discuss certain things. When she'd left, whatever belongings still remained had been left behind with the idea that Dante could keep them but she didn't know the logistics and whether she'd forgotten something they may have owned together in the past. "I'll figure it out, don't worry about it." Amara would stay in town and make it work. She was nothing if not resilient. Plus she'd already found a job serving food so she could continue with that for the next few weeks and ensure that her bills were paid. It wasn't like there was much to spend her money on in this town.
When he took the papers and placed them on the hood of the car to sign without so much as glancing at the documents, her gaze fixed on him for any signs of sorrow or sadness. She didn't know why she'd hoped to see a flash of something. Or why she felt gutted when there weren't any sign of anything other than a blank canvas. He'd signed them so easily. As easily as she'd signed them, she supposed. Just when she felt herself coming down from the disappointment, the sudden touch had her reeling in a way she hadn't anticipated. Her heart leapt, stomach dropped, and her heart felt like it would explode in her chest cavity. He smelt the same way and she hated that it was the first thought that came to mind. Despite knowing that she wasn't that girl who was madly in love with him all those years ago, she knew her body still recognized him and memorized the moments they'd shared. Her mouth parted, unsure how to even speak despite the thousands of questions and comments that came to mind. "I...." She cleared her throat, dipped her head in the hopes it would hide the slight flush she could feel rise upon her cheeks.
"That's it?" She heard herself say with mild insult. "I mean, I came all this way to get you to sign these papers and you do it without even glancing at them. I could be asking for half of your income or house." She was certain that wouldn't exactly be allowed but there could be some obscure demand in there. "You're just sending me back on my way." The cringe on her expression was from a slight hint of shame at her own words because she knew what he would say. That she had been the one to leave and how little problem she had doing that. She'd set herself up for it.
"I'm going to stick around town because I found a job and I just want to make sure this gets done right." God, she hated that it could perhaps make it seem like she was staying for other reasons. He'd made it clear that this could have all been done through their respective lawyers but she'd gone out of her way to show up in person.
"So, I'll maybe see you around." He could tell her to take care again then, and she'd do the same.
⋆.° ᝰ.ᐟ when the door swings open to reveal amara with a bottle of wine in hand, maxine is quick to step aside and welcome her into her home. and while she can’t begin to imagine what it feels like to go through a divorce, the least she could do is lend an ear to the older woman. what are friends for, right ? five years in this town has seriously made her a far more welcoming than before considering her neighbor has only been in town for about a week. “ lucky for you, i’m not ! ” max shuts the door behind her and makes a beeline for the kitchen to grab a glass for herself. setting it down on her coffee table, she pours some wine for herself. “ so what’s on your mind ? something tells me it’s bad if you’ve already started drinking without me. ”
bad wouldn't have been how she described her run in with dante. horrible, traumatic, or the worst thing to ever happen to her. then again, she'd always been a little dramatic. "you have no idea what just happened to me. i'm going to need to finish this before i can get into it." she took her seat and finished the glass, not being graceful in the way she downed it as if it was nothing but room temperature water. "you know i came here to hand my estranged husband some divorce papers. well, i ran into him in the middle of the grocery store." her hand rose to signal there was more, but she halted to allow that information to be digested. "if that wasn't bad enough, i then blurted out that i was in town to divorce him and he just... up and signed them in the actual parking lot like it was nothing." it was what she ultimately wanted, but traumatic no less.
jai’s mouth twitches at that, not quite a smile yet but close enough to count as he leans one forearm against the counter and gives her a knowing look. “ doing your part for the community. very civic-minded of you, andrea. ” her idea gets a quieter laugh out of him and this time the smile does show, crooked and brief. “ that would be nice but it doesn’t work like that, you'd clean me out! not a bad idea for a business though, i’ll keep it in mind if i ever get into the café game. ” his attention drifts to the cabinet then, already sorting through options before he reaches in and pulls something out. “ mellow without turning into furniture, that i can do, ” he adds, setting a small tin between them. inside, a neat row of pale, sugar-dusted gummies, a little softer-looking than the usual ones on display. “ new batch. this one takes the edge off without knocking you flat, so you can still function and keep blessing the town with your... deeds. ” he teases, the corner of his mouth lifting. “ that's about as easy as i'd go. ”
"that's what i strive to be." she said with a smile as she planted her elbow on the counter and cupped her cheek in the palm of her hand. the truth was that andrea did the bare minimum to get by and was set on just having fun the rest of the time. that usually consisted of a bit of trouble and chaos. "see, not just a pretty face. there's something in here." she tapped her temple before peering down at the items in the clear case. a few new things she hadn't noticed before but nothing that she required this time. "that's exactly what i need." a hand reached out to look over the packet in hand, peering at the description. "i'll get a pack of those and maybe a few rolled joints. i bought a sativa one last time but i can't remember the name."
"i think that 'pends largely on what you classify as fun. me personally, i try to steer clear of the kind that ends with a shot of penicillin," colt replied as he followed her gaze around the room, a rare ghost of a smile working its way across his features. she actually seemed to think there really was a blonde with a bad choice in radio songs. probably made more sense for him being here if there had been. at least then he'd have someone else to blame other than himself. "don't worry. i'll give a yell if she looks like she's headin' over this way.. least i can do for the guru of the cheeseboard." he took a tentative bite from the cheese cube, his lips pursing into a thin line as he begrudgingly swallowed it a few seconds later, almost immediately looking for the least offensive looking glass of red to wash it down with. if the back end of a skunk had a flavour profile, he imagined it would have been an improvement on whatever that fancy hell vieux pane purported to be. "you might sound city," he managed with a grimace, taking a sip of wine. even that didn't taste right. “but i guess if you're walkin' around offerin' folks white pills from a ziplock, you must just be fittin' in around here after all.”
she can't help but smile because he's got her there. he would definitely be in need of a shot of penicillin after that type of night. "smarter than you look," her pointer finger shot up towards him, "especially for a cowboy who rides on the back of a thousand pound horse that can bend you in half with one wrong kick to the gut." as for her, she avoided being near animals that weighted more than double digits. it wasn't worth the risk. "it's only a matter of time before someone yells so maybe a whistle and preferably with some direction. left, right. give me a few seconds head start so i can figure out which is which." she rose her right hand to make an L with her thumb and index finger only to realize it was wrong. "the right and left never stuck."
her fourth, or maybe it was sixth, foster home had tried to instilled manners into her. reminded her that judging a book by its cover was rude but here she was, judging and stereotyping. she figured he would have left by now if he couldn't take a joke. "i try hard." not to sound like city but to sound like she didn't come from here— which she did. "i guess you can try to shake off deervalley but deervally can't shake you." but she tapped the baggie in hand. "it's lactaid. i was going to offer some up to ensure that we didn't piss off the missus any further by having you think of me later on when you find out that you should have, in fact, taken those little white pills from that one stranger."
Maybe it meant something. Maybe some things aren’t meant to be known. Maybe they are just meant to be accepted. Or at least that had been Caden's logic. He had accepted that somehow back to that night a year ago - it had been a moment. They had gotten caught up. It was new territory and he was adamant then to not even think of the possibilities. The conclusion was to push it to the side and of course distance himself. Because he was fearful things would change, that she wouldn't be his rock anymore. Sex complicates things. He didn't know much but he knew that. But perhaps, that had a deeper meaning. One that Caden seemed to ignore. That he cared and valued her with everything in him and he was scared shitless that it would break their friendship. A bond that he never really wanted to lose. It wasn't meaningless. "I never intended to make you feel less than what you are."
Of course he had a terrible way of showing from basically ghosting her after that night. Caden sighed, slightly turning his head and looked at her. She at least deserved to know he was being sincere with his next words. The truth often can be found in one's eyes. "It wasn't nothing." For now that was all he could voice out. Or wanted to - he wasn't so sure which was the most rational in the present in that moment. However he did nod at her validation - that she knew he cared. Hearing it out loud was a relief but he made him recoil internally knowing that was a common theme. His inability to voice stuff out in the open, even if it didn't need to be said. Sometimes it was a nice change at least on the receiving end. Maybe not the best at words - Caden was far from oblivious. Especially when it came to the other. Time was a teacher and he quickly picked up on certain mannerisms. So, without a second thought - he shrugged off the Levi's Denim jacket he currently had been wearing and motioned it forward for her to take if she saw fit. It probably would drape over her but perhaps it would make her feel more comfortable in the current setting they were in. "If it smells like smoke, I'm sorry in advance." Though, in the back of Caden's mind he probably should have apologized for something else first. "Was it normal for you?" He asked before he could stop the words coming from his own mouth. Almost clearing his throat too. "But yeah, people are always going to assume with how attached we were." Those kind of opinions never phased Caden. It wasn't something he felt he needed to prove otherwise just for the sake of it. He was secure enough in their dynamic that her opinion was the only one that really mattered.
"But I was probably some invisible nudge. I don't know, I just don't want you to look back and have that as a regret or something." Because clearly she ended up coming back to Deer Valley. Like he had. And they both were so set on never returning. They were way bigger than this town. Always had been. There it was again - guilt. It followed him like a shadow. Guilt is a weight that will crush you whether you deserve it or not. "But you're passionate about what you do right?" His tone had subtle signs of concern. Passion kept the spark alive. Most jobs didn't have that. Or people were too afraid to go after their dreams just for the sake of some soft cushion to land. Because it was easy. He wondered what she would have done or what direction she would have taken for something that she thought she might not be good at. "As corny as it sounds - I'm not sure there's anything I really recall that you're bad at if it means anything." The next set of words she uttered made him stop breathing for a second. Her life was better with him. That had been the opposite cognitive approach he held for himself. Even to the distant past - with him making a decision to leave Deer Valley. To the time the news about cancer with his Mother. To the hardships of the ranch being sold. Caden didn't budge and didn't try to do something for those moments of hardships and despair. The common denominator was he couldn't fix things. He probably would have made things worse so he stayed far away. But hearing it from her, that reassurance even if she hadn't meant the severity - it soothed all the doubts, all his issues with self worth that he kept hidden. "I'm not so sure rebuilding is being a bouncer in the town that I quite sprinted from all those ages ago." He wanted to scoff but he didn't. But that was his to bare. "Still think you should just let me take the blame. It's alright, this may have been the most we have talked but my ego isn't that inflated. I know I should have handled it better." Instead of letting his own insecurities take the reigns. "So, what do we do now? Clearly, my track record with ideas and what I think is right are all like a dumpster fire. I'm open to suggestions."
Andrea wanted to ask what it meant to him, purely because the question had been haunting her ever since it happened. She'd convinced herself that it must have not meant a lot or that it meant too much that it frightened him— and now she was faced with the latter idea but she couldn't wrap her head around that. Around what it could mean if that was the case and where they went from there. Perhaps not knowing was the easier and safer route here. But the fact that they hadn't talked about it was what got them in this predicament in the first place and now she wasn't certain if that was much better. "I didn't know how to handle it and wanted to know what was going on in your head but I think I was also afraid." She chewed on the inside of her cheek. It wasn't all his blame to take because she could have hunted him down and demanded answers but she hadn't. The space had been allowed to grow by both of them.
Still, she was fearful to discuss what happened and whether or not there was a reality where they could return to being friends or whether they were too far gone that they should just go their own ways. It felt tragic either way. More-so because understood that any friendship they had before this wouldn't be the same as it was. How could it be? There would always be something looming over them and the fact that they'd crossed that line would return whenever they got in a situation where they were drunk, or alone together, or if someone brought it up. Nevertheless, there was a brief glimpse of the boy she had grown to love as a friend first and foremost when he shrugged his jacket off and extended it towards her as an offering. She wasn't going to take it but a breeze brought forth goosebumps and it pushed her forward to take the jacket from his hand and slide it on. It smelt like him. The same as he'd always smelt and she couldn't help but tighten it around her body as a means for it to soak into her clothes long after she returned it back to him. "Thank you." Andrea mumbled after she pulled her hair from beneath the jacket and let it fall over her shoulders. "It smells like you." She added with a shrug to indicate that she'd never cared about the smell. Not then, not now. "Normal?" She cleared her throat and thought about it for a second, peering down at the toe of her boot while she kicked at a pebble that was nearby. "I don't think it was ever normal but it become my life as much as it was yours so I just dealt with it." It hadn't bothered her at the time because she ignored it but now that she was out of it, she could realize how fucked up it had been. "I don't think it mattered what people thought because I knew you so well and you were never a question mark— like I know you better than I know myself it feels like. Or felt like."
Even through the ups and downs in his career, he'd always been the same Caden in her eyes. The boy she'd grown up with and the man who she considered to be the closest person to her. Even as he stood there, she felt like she could read his mind apart from the little bit he kept deliberately hidden from her. "I don't regret anything. I was living it up with you and that's exactly where I wanted to be. There was a lot of benefits that came with riding your coattails. I got some job offers, made a lot of money, and a lot of people were able to reach out to me when they saw the pictures I would take of you on stage and off stage." It had been a big bonus for her work and she was eternally grateful for that because not everyone who made it big continued on with the same people they'd grown up with. "I'm passionate about it but I also haven't really tried anything else, you know." It was something she'd thought about more recently and wondered if perhaps it was time to put down the camera and see what else sparked her interest. But she wasn't sure if it was more so boredom or the fact that she was actually reaching some kind of midlife crisis. The mention of his new career choice made her nod, more so in agreement than anything else. "I think that you put too much pressure on yourself. No one hates you as much as you do yourself and I've got half a mind to think that if you wanted to go back to it, you could. It wouldn't be easy but you could do it. That's if, the old bouncer gig gets old." He was made to sing and she hated to think he was wasting it the way he was but it was ultimately his decision. It might take him time but she always had fate that he'd made the right one in the end for himself. She flashed him a smile when he asked that he take the blame and she didn't agree or not. They were both to blame. She'd settle on that but allow him to carry the weight a little while longer. "I don't know where we go from here." It would be easier to walk away and harder to try and rebuild something. "We can start with you giving me a ride because I don't know that I'm going to get anywhere waiting for a ride at this time." It was a start, and then they would have to see. "As for the rest, I guess it depends on what you want."
WHY THE HELL WOULD AMARA WANT TO PERFECT HER SPEECH WAS BEYOND HIM, but Dante allowed her to speak anyway. Even if she brought up him being snarky, which, in his own pitiful opinion, he was entitled to. He had been the one kicked to the curb and left behind without as much as an explanation, and when he did try to get one, all he was able to earn from his ex-wife was a definite goodbye and that the relationship they had so carefully cultivated for all those years, had ended for her. Now, coming back to Deer Valley and telling him she didn’t serve him the papers any sooner was because she was perfecting her speech truly made him want to laugh. He could’ve said something meaner, he could’ve made great use of the words he would read in those old books and that haunted his evenings with painful goodbyes and several ways to drive the knife into someone’s heart and twist it to the point of agony, but as he opened his mouth to reply to the snarkiness comment, Amara went ahead and said yet another thing that simply made his blood boil. Oh, if only he could scream his agony away.
❝ Yes, Amara. I have definitely been sitting here, waiting and wishing you’d come back so that I could ask you all those questions. I mean, it’s not exactly a conversation if I’m talking to a dead line or a closed door, is it? ❞ Which was what had happened the first times he had tried contacting her after she’d left. A phone that went straight to voicemail until the number had been disconnected and then, finally, a year later, he was able to hear her voice, but it wasn’t as sweet and as loving as before. ❝ Aw, that’s very thoughtful of you to ask. ❞ He said as sarcasm coated his words. His hand rested against his chest as Dante cocked his head to the side, his gaze never leaving his ex-wife. ❝ Maybe I do need six more years. How about I take a page off your book and hide away for those six years so that I can ‘perfect my speech’ too, huh? ❞ His therapist wouldn’t be that much satisfied with his reaction, but then again, who was counting on his ex showing up all of a sudden and making him relive those years of agony and pain? Definitely not him. His fingers itched to reach out and touch her as she didn’t seem real enough. None of this seemed real enough. It felt like a fever dream. Like the ones he used to have, in which he still saw her sharing their bed, he could still smell her next to him and hear her voice at night.
Yet, his fingers remained perfectly attached to the shopping cart he had been pushing around ever since he got there. He wasn’t going to open up about seeing his therapist again. He wasn’t going to tell her about being too busy struggling to keep his head above water not to look for her and hand her the papers. Maybe he should have. Maybe, when he felt more like himself, he should’ve put his big boy pants on and served her the papers, after all, they weren’t married anymore in her book. ❝ You don’t need me to check in on you. You’re perfectly fine, Amara. ❞ He said. His mama had raised him better. She would’ve smacked the back of his head for not checking in on a woman who had fallen, but also, Dante was fairly certain that his mother would excuse his behavior, after all, she’d seen how devastated her boy had gotten with the separation. ❝ I don’t fuck where I eat. ❞ He said it simply. Any other trace of further explanation about her assumption was not brought up. Because no, not only was this any of her business or concern, but also, he was not getting involved with any teachers in this–how had she once called it? Dead-end town? Who knew, maybe his recollection of their arguments weren’t exactly how they had happened. Time and alcohol had taken great care of it.
Dante exhaled sharply. Almost as if it were physically painful for him to be in the same space as her again. If he texted Sebastian for a hook up, would that be a bad thing? They hadn’t spoken in a few weeks, so maybe he shouldn’t… but now, his skin was crawling, like there were ants making him feel restless in Amara’s presence. ❝ I guess I’ll meet you outside, then. ❞ He said, before forcing himself to step into another direction. All of a sudden, the grocery shop seemed extremely small for the two of them. But he did what he had to do and focused on the list his mother had sent him. Sometimes, his gaze would find her in the crowd, either checking prices or reading labels and Dante would sigh. A divorced man. One signature away from officially changing his title in governmental things or polls or–whatever asked him to put his marital status. Fuck, he was going to have to do his taxes all over again, wasn’t he?
By the time Amara met him outside, he had had some time to think this through and had already placed his shopping in his car and hoped this wouldn’t take long. Actually, she was probably going to hate him for what he was about to ask her. ❝ Hey, listen, Amara. ❞ He started, rubbing one hand over his face, before he turned around and opened the door of his car so he could reach into his glove compartment to produce a pen from inside it. ❝ If you could wait a couple of weeks to submit them that would be great? Just so I can talk to my accountant about it because I don’t really have time to re-do all of my taxes. I’m sure you understand. ❞
She deserved that. Even after she left him high and dry, he'd been the one to come hunt her down for closure that, while he deserved without a doubt, shouldn't have been his burden to seek out. Amara could have left some sort of note explaining her reasoning or that she had no plans on returning back into the town she'd always been so eager to leave behind. At the time, it made sense to the impulsive and selfish woman. But it made sense to her because she hadn't been thinking about anyone else, much less the man she'd married. She would take responsibility for that. He had every right to be angry and throw that back in her face despite the conversation they'd had after he'd found her where they'd both made it clear that they would be leaving with clear slates and no ties to one another.
"You're angry— maybe shocked or surprised." Not that she was trying to tell him how he was feeling but everything tumbled out wrong and she half expected him to decipher it because he'd once been so good at just knowing what was going through her mind. "I get that. I would probably be if you showed up at my door with divorce papers but I don't know where all this resentment is coming from." Maybe she did, or perhaps she was trying to turn the attention onto him and his own wrongdoings instead of how she'd clumsily fumbled this entire speech and ruined the plans she had to gracefully deliver the news. "I don't know how many times you want me to apologize for what I did. It was shitty but I told you that when we saw each other last." She cleared her throat when she heard a cart rolling away, reminder her that they were out in public and the last thing she needed was to leave town with a reputation behind her. "Like, it's been six years. I told you that I wouldn't survive in this town." Her mouth parted because she wanted to remind him that the goal had been to leave with him but he was dead set on this town so she had to do what was best for her.
It was a far cry from the people they were all those years ago. The ones who were passionate and lived in a world that was their own, even when surrounded by a sea of people, they could be found off to the side dancing on their own. He'd been her best friend and confidante but the reality hit her like a freight train now that she was back and could see the full effects of her decision. Frankly, she didn't know what she expected when she'd first see him but it surely wasn't all this hostility and something that felt more like hatred. "I guess I thought I could come here and we'd be nice and cordial about this but maybe this makes it easier." They could get their lawyers involved and only have to interact through them. It wasn't what she wanted given that she had already sought out employment because the money she'd saved up was going out the window what with the multiple places she'd been staying in and the fact that her overpriced apartment in new-york was still there, vacant, waiting for her return.
It was surprisingly nice to hear that he didn't have some relationship that was serious enough that he was considering a proposal or marriage. She didn't know why but it was a weight lifted from her shoulders. Still, she deliberately ensured she didn't react to that confession.
Instead, she silently walked away and finished her grocery with half of what was on the list because her mind was all over the place. By the time she had to circle back three times to get the avocado she kept forgetting, she decided to call it a fail and just wait by her car.
As he approached, she held the papers out to him but her hand dropped at his question before she could hand them over. "A few weeks?!" She gawked at him for a moment. Did she have a few weeks? "I'm still paying rent in New-york." It wasn't his fault and she figured she'd been here for a few weeks while they got everything sorted out but now he was asking that she wait before even getting the ball rolling. "I understand taxes and money but I'm living in airbnb's that are costing me an arm and a leg." With a sigh, she pinched the bridge of her nose and lifted her hand with the paper towards him once more. "Let me know after a week how long you think it's going to be because I'll need to figure something out. I stayed at a motel outside of town for a few nights and that scarred me. I'd consider staying in my car before returning there."
AERI PROMPTLY OBLIGED TO AMARA’S REQUEST TO REFILL HER GLASS OF WINE. Truly, the brunette wasn’t going to sit there and judge anyone’s needs for more alcohol in their lives. As long as they remained functional humans, however they chose to work through their issues was their own. While the other answered her question, Aeri’s fingertips gently brushed against the glass she’d been holding, trying to imagine leaving everything and everyone behind and not keeping in touch with anyone. Sure, she didn’t talk to everyone she used to back when she lived in LA, but some of her closest friends would stil get an occasional text here and there or the funny Reel from time to time. But in Amara’s case, the other woman didn’t seem like she wanted to keep ties to Deer Valley. It made Aeri wonder what had happened to grant that reaction. ❝ I see… ❞ She bobbed her head absentmindedly, biting softly on her lip as lots of theories swarmed up her mind. ❝ Do you mind if I ask why? ❞ A brief pause separated her previous question from the one she added next. ❝ I mean… You didn’t have anyone here you wanted to keep in touch with? ❞ Aeri understood Amara not wanting to talk to her husband. Maybe he was violent, maybe he was abusive… but friends? Shaking her head, the journalist let her legs dangle from where she sat on the kitchen island for an extra moment before she hopped down and closed her distance to the other woman. ❝ C’mon, you’re not cursed. There’s no such thing as curses. ❞ Her grandmother and mother would say otherwise, but Amara was nervous enough. She didn’t need someone whose family had an extensive background in shamanism, making her feel like couldn’t get over life’s adversities. ❝ Do you think there's a chance he won’t sign them? ❞ There could also be it. Maybe this guy was a filthy, possessive dog who wouldn’t handle seeing Amara with someone other than him, and that of course, that raised a lot of red flags in Aeri’s mind. ❝ And then what happens after he signs the papers? You go back to New York? ❞ Which seemed to be the most plausible idea, considering that there could be more opportunities for her.
Teenage Amara was full of dreams and determination that felt much larger than what this little town could sustain. It had been a dream as a little girl to start somewhere fresh and become something that no one would have anticipated as a young girl who bounced from foster home to foster home— often times pushed aside and told she wouldn't succeed at much. She'd already proven them wrong with getting herself through college and finding an husband who was obsessed with her (and vice versa). It should have been enough. It had been for some time but she couldn't shake the idea that it was all she would become. A wife, perhaps some store owner, and a maybe if she was lucky, a mother. "I had friends but by the time I went to college, we all lost touch. I have my college friends that I kept in touch with but most of them moved out of town. It's hard to keep touch and feel grounded when you're bouncing around from one home to another when you're a child. You don't keep much belongings, much less friends." Many of times she'd had to change school.
She'd thought about her reasoning behind how she'd left Dante and most of it had to do with the fact that she doubted she would have been able to face him and break it off. The abrupt departure was more so to ensure she'd do it, and by the time he'd found her, she was still trying to convince herself she'd been right about her move altogether. Even now, she often wondered if she'd made the right decision as her life was far less glamorous as she'd expected it to be as a child. No big career in fashion, no huge house, no picket fence or children.
Her work came from whatever odd job she was doing and most of her money went into rent. The city was everything and more but she wondered if that alone would be enough in the long run. Eventually, she would run out of energy with all the work she was putting in while still living in a shoe box. "Curses have to exist. I'm the opposite of someone who is lucky, so I'm whatever you want to call that."
Then the idea of him not signing made her frown. She wouldn't know why he wouldn't sign. What would bring him to want to remain married to someone who'd run away, after all this time, when their lives had been so separate. Frankly, that thought hadn't even crossed her mind. "I don't see a world in which he wouldn't sign. He isn't a spiteful person and I know he deserves to be free and marry someone who wants to mold themselves into his life."
She hadn't really thought that far after ahead. "Honestly, I think so. I want to meet someone and settle down. I still have my apartment in new-york so I would have to go back regardless but I don't have this sudden urge to stay here. I don't know if there's anything here for me anymore once we're divorced."
LEAVE TO AMARA TO SHOW UP LIKE A STORM LIKE THAT. Unpredictably, unprecedented, uninvited. It took everything in him not to laugh right there and then, because of course she would say something like that in the middle of a grocery shop. It would have been ten times easier if that hadn’t been the reason why Dante had fallen madly in love with the woman standing across from him. Her genius and free spirit had wrapped their hands around his throat like a collar, and each time Amara tugged on it with her smile, her kisses, her promises of a lifetime together, it made Dante beg for love like some sort of abandoned puppy. But that had been then, when he was still struggling to find his footing after that loss of himself and this was now. No matter how much Amara had been his North in the past, things changed when you were, in fact, left to handle your own shit without a hint of an explanation. ❝ Right. And you chose the middle of the grocery shop to do it? ❞ Dante kept his arms crossed like a god-damned armor. He let out a sigh, double checking if the older man was up and running instead of eavesdropping–but then again, for a town as small as Deer Valley, eavesdropping should be considered an olympic sport. ❝ I have to give it to you, Amara. Took you long enough. ❞ There was still a hint of bitterness in his tone, regardless of what he might say… that no, he no longer harbored feelings for his ex, that he had chosen to live a different life, that he wasn’t going to let others hurt him like she had. ❝ I mean… you must be desperate if you couldn’t even wait to meet at my place, or in the presence of lawyers. ❞ Finally, Dante shook his head, this time, looking away as he moved back to where he’d left the shopping cart with his mother’s shopping in it. ❝ What is it? You’re going to get married again? ❞ He chortled. Dry and bitter. Yes, maybe these words were too little and they were too late, but how could he have allowed her to do something like that? How could Dante let her own his happiness the way he had?
❝ I don’t see any papers on you. ❞ He said, glancing over his shoulder. ❝ But if you’re willing to wait, I’ll sign them for you once I’m done doing the groceries. ❞ He wished there was enough in him that could come up with harsher words to tell her. Things that could have hurt her, instead of just doing his best to keep the conversation cordial, but maybe those wouldn’t be enough. Why would they? Once the feelings were gone, what was left there to cling on? And pain, came from the small threads of love that had once knitted the cushion their marriage had laid on. ❝ What’s another hour if you’ve waited six years, right? ❞
Amara gawked at him as if he'd just asked her the stupidest question. Was the sky blue? Obviously. Did she wait for this very moment to give him the news of the divorce? "Of course, I've been stalking the grocery store waiting for the exact moment you'd arrive. Actually, my camp is set up in the vent." Her hand barely lifted as she let out an exaggerated sigh. She'd need a nap when she got home and something strong to curb the headache she could feel coming on. "Of course not. I've been, actually for your information, avoiding this like the plague because I wanted to perfect my speech." That sounded equally as stupid but it was the truth. But also, she wasn't all too excited to hunt down the man she'd walked away from all those years ago despite the ways in which they'd both moved on. "—Or maybe I was trying to avoid the snakiness."
He had every right to be snarky. Even outright mean. They'd promised each other a future and she'd went ahead and tore the carpet from under him and uprooted their entire life plans because of her own selfish need to be outside of this town. Had New-York been any better? In ways, but certainly not as she'd dreamt. Her brows perked at the word desperate, but all she could do was cross her arms and tap her foot in an act of defiance. It wasn't like she could truly defend herself. It was all true but it didn't mean she would take it with a cherub smile.
"It almost feels like you've been waiting for my return and memorized all these lines." Or questions. It was hard to focus on one exact part of what he'd said beyond the chaotic scene and his presence. Despite the length of time they'd been separated, her head swam with all the memories and feelings she hadn't been prepared to face.
Nevertheless, she tried her best not to fixate on them, certainly not when the accusation of only returning because she was jumping from one husband to the next surfaced. "For your information, I'm not getting married. Not that it's any of your business and that I have to explain anything. Frankly, I thought you'd be jumping from the rooftop at finding your own freedom from me. I wasn't expecting the warmest of welcomes but this is a little shocking." A hand was pressed to her chest, trying her best to shift the focus on his reaction rather than her own horrible delivery. "You could have at least asked if I was doing okay. I almost got trampled."
"They're in my car." More because she suspected there was a chance she would run into him. If the opportunity was right, she could walk up to him and do the delivery, but this was not the place she would have done it. "But sure, I'm not actually done either." Amara reached behind her for the cart she'd long forgotten, clumsily attempting to find it only for her fingers to brush it. She cleared her throat and stepped in the direction she'd been going only to realize they were headed in the same direction. "Honestly, I'm surprised you didn't deliver papers to me. I thought you would have met someone by now. Meet some cute little teacher who wants this perfect little life in your cute little town."
lacey glances over at the stand, then back at what she’s holding, eyes narrowing just slightly like she’s sizing it up the same way she would a horse. “zucchini.” she says it with enough certainty, even if she gives it a second look just to be sure. “cucumbers are usually a little colder to the touch. and they’ve got that waxy feel.” she reaches out, turning it lightly in her hand before handing it back. “you’d know the second you cut it, though.” a small beat. “smells like disappointment.” there’s the faintest hint of dry humor there before she leans back a fraction, arms folding loosely against her chest. “zucchini banana bread, huh.” a short exhale through her nose, almost amused. “that's a new one, can’t say i’ve tried that.” her gaze flicks toward the rest of the stand, then back. “not a bad way to do it, though. hide it well enough, you won’t notice.” there's a soft shrug of her shoulders. “my day’s been fine.” a slight tilt of her head. “yours doesn’t sound too bad either, all things considered.”
"you can tell by the coldness of the touch?" she'd considered something a little more substantial such as it being rounder, shorter, more green. but how was she meant to know the difference by touch alone? "i think you overestimate my abilities to tell the difference with those descriptions alone. i have a feeling that stores are going to find a few cucumbers split in half and i can't apologize for it. their signs need to be larger and more presice." some of the vegetables were too close to know which was which. "plus it feels like a trap to put them right near each other." nevertheless, she trusted lacey and placed the right vegetable in her cart before planting her hands on the bar. "it's a recipe i found on pinterest. do you remember that site? i rejoined. basically the zucchini is meant to absorb the taste and it's extra healthy. fancy me, right?" she was eager to taste and wondered how small she'd have to cut the vegetable to mask it. "i mean, this is the highlight of my day. the cucumber and zucchini thing almost took me out. you know sometimes when you're having a rough week and it's the stupidest thing that gets you. crisis averted, you were here. otherwise, i won't bore you with my hell. happy you're living it up, though. let's hope some of that rubs off on me."
where: square dance competition.
when: april 18th, evening.
who: utp @southncharm
blue eyes traveled to the dance floor to the drink in sebastian's hand, the lightness of the alcohol already making him giddier and lighter than most days while swaying away with the overtly familiar music playing through the speakers. although not a favorite activity of his, growing up in texas meant square dancing had been a part of his upbringing for as long as he could remember, something he had grown to appreciate in the years living in the west and east coast, away from his roots. now here he was, a few miles away from home feeling homesick for a piece of his past he hadn't appreciated enough at the time as some hoedown made it painful to keep his feet glued to the ground.
just as he was about to go get another drink, did the man notice a figure standing by his side. he bowed his head as a cordial greeting. "good day ma'am" he voiced, eyes still on the people dancing in front of him. "having a nice time? are you joining the competition?"
She needed to get out of the house and stop feeling sorry for herself which meant that she'd head into town and see what was going on. A few road lights short of the main road and she'd quickly checked on the group facebook what was popping in the town, slightly disappointed when it was the square dancing competition rather than some karaoke night.
After a few hours here, she knew she'd been right. Karaoke would have been a lot more entertaining to watch— what with butchered lyrics and drunken dancing. This was serious. More serious than she'd anticipated. "I've been.... watching. I don't know that I'm enjoying it. I keep waiting for someone to slip and for them all to fall like dominos but everyone is good and I've seen a lot of them run off to the bar between songs. It's impressive."
where: care for you.
when: late afternoon.
who: utp @southncharm
it simply had not been joey's day. in fact, their past twelve hours of life seemed like one of those terrible comedy movies based off of horror flicks their siblings would love when the were young. it had all started as all bad mornings did— stubbing their toe. it all went downhill from there on: from a nearly spoiled lunch that didn't sit right with their stomach, their phone running out of battery an hour into running errands, forgetting their keys in the apartment (in an incredibly busy day for both their roommates— not like it would matter, they couldn't call them or their landlord anyway) and lastly, they had left their apartment with only five dollars of which they had already use half of buying themselves a cup of coffee just to stay inside of care for you to wait for their roomates to return home.
of course, knowing life had a great sense of humor when it came to them they should've known one last punchline had to come, this time by the form of a full café. with limited options at their disposal (and a raging headache and a sore pinky toe) they approached one of the few tables with an open seat and a friendly face sitting on the other. "sorry, is there a chance i can sit here with you for a while?" jo questioned "i don't have much money on me right now to bribe you but, i can give you 2 dollars, promise you my first born or swear to include you in my grammy acceptance speech. maybe i can read your future" could jo read someone's future? absolutely not and a future with kids was not on their plans either but what the other didn't know wouldn't hurt them.
Being a photographer for a little town meant that she was sat at a cafe, or most times her couch, and playing on her phone until she got a call that they were ready to run a story. The last one involved a cat in a tree which she'd had a field day getting pictures of because the sun was in the way and the cat wouldn't move. As for the two empty cups of caffeine, the only reason she hadn't found a bar was because most of them opened later than eleven. She cursed silently when the voice distracted her from the winning streak on candy crush, closing the phone and placing it face down on the coffee table. "You wanna, what?" She asked with knitted brows, head tilted slightly to avoid the weird glare from the outdoor window. "Oh, no, yeah— sure." It was as if she'd registered the words a few beats too late, crumpling up a muffin wrapper and one of the forementioned cups of coffee that were across from her.
"Well, see, I already told you that you could sit and I should have asked for a blood promise of your first born first." She wasn't even certain she wanted children of her own, let alone one birthed by someone else. There was a lot to consider in terms of temperament, medical conditions, and the likes she probably wasn't even thinking about. "Ah, fuck it. I'm sure there's going to be another opportunity for me to take that baby from you unless you're about to trade them to move up in line at Subway." Not a far stretch given that they were giving it up for an empty seat that didn't even belong to Andrea in the first place. "Is every other spot taken or are you going to flatter me by telling me there's a spcific reason you wanted to sit here?"
HOW HARD COULD IT BE TO MAKE YOUR PARENTS GROCERIES, right? It would have been easier if his mother could just make up her mind as to what type of meat she wanted him to get for the week. Since the world turned upside down and older people became more at risk of contracting something, the Macallister kids had split among themselves the chore of doing their parents' groceries. This time, it was Dante’s turn. He was still on his phone with his ma when he heard a commotion not too far from where he stood. Someone was shouting, which caught his attention and made him turn his head to see what it was. And there she was, Amara Kalode, in the flesh, trying to shut Mr. Keagan up. ❝ I’ll call you right back, ma. ❞ He said, before pocketing his phone and then making his way to the duo. ❝ You alright there, Mr. K? ❞ He asked as he helped the elderly man up. In another world, he would’ve helped Amara first, but Mac wondered if she still wanted his help to begin with. So much had been left unsaid between them that it almost felt wrong to offer a hand. Yet, he did. Dante stretched out his hand and hoped she would take it, like she’d done so many times in the past. While Mr. Keagan spoke about how he was feeling, about how he hadn't gotten hurt, about how Amara had practically walked over him, Dante simply stared at her. He wanted to ask if she was okay, if she’d gotten hurt, too, but all he managed to say was a stupid ❝ What are you doing here? ❞
Her mouth hung slightly ajar at his approach, allowing her gaze to move over the man she'd married so many years ago. He was different— yet all the same. At least until he spoke and the words were directed towards the elderly man who was still trying to whine over a minuscule collision. "He's fine," Amara spoke before the man could as she knew from his expression that he was set to release more dramatic accusations. "I barely backed into his cart." It was difficult to speak through the lump in her throat but her gaze fixed on the older man for longer than necessary in an attempt to gather her thoughts and refocus her attention.
But all vanished as her hand reached out and she took Dante's. Her gaze was the first to tear from his, followed quickly by a roll of her eyes when she heard the Mr. Keagan began to walk off with a string of accusations in his wake. This wasn't how she'd planned on doing this. Not in the middle of a grocery store, out in public, where everyone could hear.
Her mouth parted to answer but no words came out. Was there an easy way to say this? Should she ask for them to step outside? Maybe steer the conversation towards something else? "I'm here for you, actually." The words fumbled out before she could really string them together coherently. Her head shook, hand shot up to indicate she needed a second. "Not like that. The opposite, I guess. I had this whole speech about big starts and big ends. It was stupid. I'm here to hand you divorce papers. I swear it felt nicer in my head than it does now." Fuck, fuck, fuck.... "—So, yeah."
AERI POURED AMARA SOME WINE AND HANDED HER THE GLASS. Of course she wanted to ask so many questions, but she needed to organize her thoughts first, and that meant that she needed a few more minutes to get herself acquainted with the situation. ❝ Don’t get me wrong, but… ❞ She bit softly on her bottom lip. Soon, her glass had been set aside and she was popping herself onto the kitchen island, something Aeri did often whenever Carrie was baking, because she figured she occupied less space in the kitchen like that. ❝ You told me you came here to serve your ex-husband the divorce papers, right? ❞ Yes, she remembered that conversation as clear as day. Once properly seated, the journalist picked her wine glass back up and sipped on it. ❝ Why couldn’t you send it through a lawyer? I mean, why put yourself through the trouble of coming down here in the first place? And well… now that you are here, couldn't you stay with your family? ❞ Maybe she was running from something… but it seemed counter productive to be running away from said thing and then immediately go and do it anyways. It felt like Amara didn’t want to revisit her past by coming back to Colorado, but then again, Aeri didn’t know the brunette that well enough. No, she shouldn’t let her investigative brain take over, otherwise, Aeri would start asking questions and she would never stop overanalyzing the other woman’s intentions. ❝ Something to go right? You don’t need to be Sherlock Holmes to figure out that means something else is going wrong. What’s up with you, hm? ❞
Amara took one last look at her meal before she shut the oven door and turned towards the glass of wine that was poured for her. Well needed, and soon to be, well deserved. She sat down and stopped mid-sip when a string of questions came that she hadn't been prepared to answer in this instant, while in the throes of ensuring that she didn't overcook— or worse yet— undercook the meal she'd slaved over. A pause came in the form of a long sip of wine, multiple gulps even, before she set her glass down and tapped it with her nail. "More please."
The smile fell, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand before she let out a small sigh. "Well, the lawyer thing would have been simpler but, I don't know, maybe it's a bit of guilt." She'd left him without a word and she figured the least he deserved was for her to return and do it in person. And maybe she was curious, to see how his life had turned out. How her life could have been had she chosen not to leave for what she thought would be a bigger and brighter future. "I don't have family here. I grew up in foster care and didn't keep touch with anyone once I left here. I guess the only family I have is my husband and I don't know that he'd be open to the idea of me asking for a board and room in between signing the papers."
She couldn't help the laugh. "What's up with me? That's a bit of a loaded question." Nothing ever seemed to go right as planned in her life and she couldn't exactly answer why despite the fact that it had always been that way. No matter the planning, or lack thereof, it just always went south. Not necessarily bad or good— just different. "I think it's bad karma. I need to see someone to remove this hex I have on me."
"poison almost never guarantees instant death, so people usually end up with dead mice in their walls when the poison catches up to the poor little guys. then you'll have to break your walls down to try and find 'em 'cause the remains will be stinkin' up the place, then you gotta patch up the holes... all 'cause you didn't listen to the nice salesman at the store." jamie grinned smugly. "i tell ya what, though - if you catch some with these bad boys," he shook the glue traps in his hand, "bring 'em over here and i'll get rid of 'em for ya, free of charge." a courtesy rather than a real service that they offer, but jamie was serious about it nonetheless. "oh, yeah, imprinting... there's studies on it and everything." he nodded earnestly. it was a stupid thing to be lying about, and he wasn't exactly sure why he was doing it. boredom, most likely, or the elated feeling he got at the way amara had somehow believed it, which honestly felt pretty good. oh, well, it's too late now. "yeah, i read it in one of 'em... science journals." he squinted at amara, almost trying to discern if she was still gonna buy into it. "those ratatouille guys absolutely weren't playin'. i mean, you just believe that that rat bonded with that chef. it's basically backed by science."
there hadn't been much thought when it came to poison and the ways in which it worked. dead. that was as complex as she'd gotten. "i'm renting currently. and by the way that the landlord has been avoiding my text messages because of a faulty oven doesn't give me much hope that he'd be any more receptive to dead mice and patching walls." a few seconds and she carefully placed the bottle of poison back where she'd taken it. it was clear that she'd need to favor option b. "maybe i'll pay for your gas to come over and you can handle them while they're in the traps." preferably she'd wait outside and he could go in and hunt them all down and dispose of them without her having to touch or see anything. "for old times sake, i mean we used to go to school together and be friends." it wasn't necessarily the full truth but she was going to play any card she had to keep her hands clean. "well, it's just tragic since i'm not planning on actually staying here and i'm sure it's a crime to have them imprint on me when i can't care for them. they can't travel with me back to new-york. so i need them gone.... like yesterday."