Mitsu had a knack for finding the little nooks and crannies many others overlooked. There was a sense of exploration and adventure in just figuring out how to get there that made her day just a bit more exciting. Breathing a sigh as she finally managed to swing her leg over so that she was now standing on what seemed to be a particular roomy outcropping of an unfinished building, Mitsu looked down and immediately regretted her decision. Crouching down and holding the sides of the ledge, she managed a weak, “Help.”
There were only three things that gave Karli a solid reason to pick up her pack of cigarettes and go to a bar, of all places - 1. Stress. 2. when something's wrong, and 3. when she knows she's in deep shit.
Luckily for her however, it was not the latter.
Karli had been looking forward to her day off all weekend, having been overwhelmed at work with several more emergency room transmissions than normal and a sudden bout of surgeries her resident allowed her to scrub in on, and had been in the middle of reading one of her recently purchased and highly anticipated books when Owen had called. She hadn't hesitated in picking up the phone, having not talked to her brother in quite some time (mostly due to work, and the fact that he was just in the prime of his college career), and she was just about to tell him about the shard of glass the size of her finger that she extracted from someone's face last night when he had interrupted her with the news. She was certain that the very moment the words left his mouth the air left her lungs because this was exactly the type of thing that she did not want to hear. Their baby brother, Nick, had tested positive for Stage III Melanoma just like their father had and was to start treatment straight away at Bismarck's local hospital.
Of course, upon hearing the news, the doctor side of her took immediate effect, analyzing every nook and cranny of her brain. The survival rates, which treatment would be when, the side effects - everything - and the older sister in her found herself both angry and horrifically upset that cancer had managed to threaten to take another person that she cared about, and wondering just how much all of this would cost, because she knew damn well her mother wouldn't pay a dime. Owen had insisted she'd changed and was regularly attending a 12-Step Alcoholic Anonymous group but Karli cut him off and she herself insisted that Nick was transferred to Baltimore immediately for the best possible care, because she was sure she couldn't fit time into her schedule to fly all the way out to North Dakota for regular visits. He'd said he would discuss it with Nick and get back to her later.
And so while she waited, Karli grabbed her purse and her jacket and headed for the bar a couple blocks away. She'd rarely ever drank, especially with such a bad history with everything alcohol and the fact that she had to watch how much she actually drank because of the adderall dosage she was taking, but at the moment it seemed like a necessary trip to take. So two beers later and she found herself outside, the filter of a cigarette between her teeth, searching her belongings for her lighter - and, of course, having no such luck.
"Dammit," she swore, a muffled exhale of frustration upon the realization that she must have left her lighter on her work desk back at her apartment - where it usually lay idle, collecting dust. It wasn't routine to take it anywhere anymore, but she figured her head must have been elsewhere if she'd grabbed her pack of cigarettes and completely forgot all about it. Karli removed the cigarette from her lips and let it settle between her two fingers. She leaned her back against the brick wall of the bar and with an exasperated sigh she closed her eyes. There was several options available to fix her dilemma; she could have just gone back to her apartment several blocks away, or she could go to the convenient store a little ways down the street and spend a couple bucks on a new one that would just end up sitting next to the old the minute she got home. She resisted the urge to slide to the ground. Today was just not her day.
It was just another night at another wedding for Gavin. To be honest, there wasn't really anything remarkable about this wedding. The bride was nice enough, he wasn't wearing a crazy costume and there was the perfect balance of Disney songs and love ballads on the proposed set list. Everything was strangely normal, for once. For Gavin, it was a breath of fresh air. The best part about the whole thing was that he wasn't required to play through dinner, as he usually was. The couple had requested that he only play during the dances, so Gavin had a bit of leisure time in between the rehearsal and his actual performance.
He stood at the bar, leaning against the wooden structure as he nursed a can of Coke. Usually, he would abuse the free drinks his employers would award him with, ordering some fruity cocktail he would never pay for with his own money or a shot of something expensive. It was a reward of sorts, a way to make an awful night just a little bit more enjoyable. Tonight, however, he wasn't in the mood for any of that. He didn't even want alcohol. It usually affected his performance, after all, having alcohol in his system. With a job that relied on your full concentration to hit the right keys at just the right time, he couldn't really take any chances. Putting on a good performance was his number one priority.
Taking a sip of the bubbly brown soda, Gavin surveyed the scene, biting his lip to suppress his knowing smile. Wedding receptions were always strange occasions, filled with awkward small talk and fake smiles. Gavin hadn't been a guest to many, but the few times he had attended them, he was never able to tear his eyes away from his watch. Nobody ever really wanted to attend one of these events, despite the fact that they always had great food. They were just so boring. There was the sound of idle chatter filling the room, of course, but it was overpowered by the clanging of forks and knives against plates. As an outsider to the situation, Gavin couldn't help but find it slightly amusing. He was so entertained that he didn't even notice that there was a person standing next to him, a thing that he would usually be conscious about.
Karli's hands have been shaking for about an hour now. It started just before she left work; small and jolted tremors which had gradually progressed by the time she had arrived home.. Having been taking the pills for quite sometime now, this was a not an unusual occurrence; her breath sometimes shortened, her head and heart pounded harder than a sailor on shore leave and she may have hallucinated once or twice - so a little shaking wasn't as entirely off putting as it was frustrating. So, as per usual when frustrated and evidently wide awake, she had begun her trek down a familiar route to the docks. She'd only been in Maryland for a short time, but Karli typically found herself liking the idea serenity that came with just sitting and thinking there in the late evening, a time where the more obnoxious people wouldn't bother her by talking too loud. She didn't suppose she would mind if a friend was with her, but seeing as her only friends and fellow interns lived in Baltimore and other surrounding areas, she found herself going alone.
As expected, at this late an hour the docks were fairly void of other people, aside from the occasional passerby. Karli, dressed exceptionally well for the fall weather (considering back in Bismarck it would be freezing, she figured she was adjusting well), seated herself on one of the benches over looking the waters and for a moment, just sat. A part from her rapidly beating heart and shaking hands, the scenery was calming; the gentle lap of water against the sides of the boat, the smell, just..everything. But it was short lasted. She clenched her hands into fists in her lap, so firmly her knuckles turned white and her fingernails left crescent-shaped indents in her palms, and took a deep breath in attempt to steady herself. But even so they did not stop trembling, all the attempt having done was seemingly making it worse. Karli swore under her breath and stuck her unsteady fists into the pockets of her jacket.
She would have gone back to her apartment, but the last time she'd been there she dropped her keys one too many times and hadn't had the patience to keep trying. That made her nervous. Her senior resident could page her at any moment to come into work for a patient or, if she was really lucky, to participate in a surgery and if her hands were shaking like a hypothermic ice fisherman than she was certain she could kiss her white coat and job goodbye. And that wasn't an option. None of it was an option nor was it acceptable, she knew that. But yet, for some stubborn reason, she hadn't had it in her to quit. She supposed it was exactly like what her father had said; it wasn't worth the stress of quitting. And, besides, she studied medicine for several years now, minus the text books her father had given her when she was little and didn't understand half of the terminologies used. Adderall withdrawal wasn't exactly a walk in the park that she could afford taking.
And, if she was being honest, a part of her didn't ever want to.
Annapolis was going to be Dee's city of promises. A city free of the pitiful looks she always received back at home. Here she didn't have to walk with her head down, reminded every day what her mother died for, even if she’d had no choice in the matter. Dee was sure her mother didn’t want to die for her only daughter, but as her father had often reminded her when she was growing up, that Dee’s mother wouldn’t have wanted to die any other way. For her daughter. She supposed that was supposed to make her feel better that her only mother was dead, but all it did was lay a big ol’ heaping pile of guilt on her shoulders, knowing that she was the one that had murdered her mother.
Well, she supposed murder was a strong word choice, but what else really, could she call it? She may not have done it intentionally or with any malice, but because Dee was conceived, because Dee was born, because she lived, her own mother had to sacrifice her life. How was she supposed to live with that kind of thing weighing down on her every single minute of every single hour of every single day? She didn’t really know how she managed to wake up in the mornings, to make a pot of coffee and go to work. She didn’t even know how she made it off the couch to the Thai place down at the end of the block. But there she was sitting, looking over a menu that was already becoming familiar with the passing days. It probably wasn’t a good sign that she knew that menu decently well after only a few days.
Once the waiter came around, she placed an order for a glass of wine and garlic steak while she mulled in her thoughts. She’d been hoping to avoid that since it was what she spent a majority of her time doing back in South Carolina and she’d almost forced to resort to seeing a therapist herself. But what would she look like? A detective going to see a therapist. It was an incongruous concept seeing as how she hadn’t been ordered to go and if she went especially now she was sure her boss would be suspicious and it would affect the assignments she was given at the office, which ultimately would affect her career. And that was never good. Disgruntled with herself, Dee let out an audible sigh, and stabbed her steak a little more forcefully than circumstances warranted.
When Henry emerged from the hospital, his eyes immediately scrunched up against the bright rays of the sun. The last time he remembered looking out a window it had been pitch black out with a few stars scattered in the sky. He should have realized hours had passed when he one, looked at a clock and two, noticed that the nursing staff had rotated. A nurse had kindly informed him that there was fresh coffee in the break room, but the thought of having hospital coffee made him cringe so he had said a simple thank you, but no thanks before he changed out of his scrubs and into the clothes he wore the day before.
The jeans felt rough against his skin as he pulled them on, but the cotton white v-neck felt refreshing. He realized belatedly that his contacts were dry and his eyes itched horribly from it. So, with a sigh he pulled them out and put them in the solution contain he kept in his locker just for this reason. Once he felt like his eyes weren't going to shrivel up he pushed on his glasses and grabbed his keys.
Once his eyes adjusted to the sunlight, Henry made his way towards where he remembered parking his car. He nodded to a few doctors who were coming in for their first shifts of the day. The only people to send him sympathetic looks for his disheveled and exhausted appearance were the nurses. Once he had unlocked his car and noticed that it was nearly three in the afternoon he nearly groaned and banged his head against his steering wheel. Twelve hours in surgeries was always exhausting. But he didn't regret it. Not when he got to save the patients lives.
Seeing as his next shift was tomorrow morning, Henry knew he should stay up at least until it was night again so he didn't wake up at midnight feeling completely rested. As much as he would love to crash into his bed and wake up hours later, he knew it would only screw up his schedule. So, with a sigh he turned on his car and drove towards the coffee shop near his apartment that he frequented. Annapolis blurred by him as he drove through downtown and emerged on the other side of town. He drove on autopilot as he pulled into the coffee shop's parking lot. Once he parked the car, he pushed his glasses up and rubbed his eyes as he yawned.
He didn't dwell long in his car, knowing if he did he would find himself falling asleep which wouldn't be a good idea at all. So he clambered out of his car and stretched, hoping that too would help wake him up some more. Instead all he felt were his bone creak and crack. With another tired sigh, Henry walked into the coffee shop. The owner smiled at him sympathetically as he got into line and he shot her his own smile along with a shrug. As he reached her at the register his smile turned more genuine as she spoke, "Sweetie, you work yourself into the ground too often."
Henry chuckled at her words. "You are absolutely right there, but I love it."
The woman laughed softly and shook her heard. "One black coffee coming right up. Go have a seat, I'll have Daisy bring it over to ya."
"As always, you're an angel." Henry complimented as he handed her a five.
It was as he turned to go towards his usual seat that he bumped into someone. God, he really needed to sleep if he didn't realize that there were other people that close. "God, I'm sorry. I didn't even see you!" He said quickly, hoping he hadn't caused the person to spill their drink all over them.
Notes: Nick spends a slow afternoon enjoying the rain.
Extra Notes: Consider this a formal hello to everyone from myself - Dolly, I am - if you will. Also, I apologize for threading format in advance (I don't know what the prevalent style is here yet) and assure anyone who would like to reply to this that it is not required at all.
Outside, a slow summer rain was pouring down onto the sidewalk, slipping down the windows, and filling the drains. The old man who tended the nursery during the mornings had groaned and put up a fuss to Mother Nature, claiming that the water would drown the plants, ruin all his hard work, and put them out by at least a few hundred dollars. Nick, though, thought he was overreacting and being a special brand of annoying that left him wanting to start an argument. He had put in time with the flowers, yes, and enjoying tending to them from time to time, but he was almost certain the rain wasn’t going to drown the them, or perhaps cause an early doomsday. If anything, they would be getting well-needed water. ‘Besides, it’s not like the old grouch actually cares about the flowers... No ridiculous emotional bond to them or whatever the hell else might be “bonding,”’ he thought as he went about carrying carrying bags of potting soil and crates of vases.
Perhaps because of the rain, or perhaps simply because it was the end of August, late afternoon, and a generally non-busy day, but either way business within the shop was slow. No one was there requesting bouquets in obnoxiously pink-and-green colored vases, children weren’t trying to uproot the decorative grass which grew in pots around the showroom floor, and no one was shopping around for potting soil and “those little seeds I bought a few months back?” So, Nick sat on the counter, kicking his feet absently and watching the rain fall outside, as well as the people skittering around with their umbrellas and newspapers.
Internally, he was considering the validity of some words an old friend had spoken. It seemed so long ago, almost like he was looking through a tunnel blurred with the strain of time and scarred with regrets he couldn’t quite place. He recalled a garden not entirely unlike the one visible through the screen door to his right, but with maybe more vines and less lilies. It had been lightly misting, the air had been hot and heavy, but it had been a beautiful evening. If he had to guess, Nick would have said they were on a high of some variety, and that they were talking about missed chances, broken opportunities, and what it meant to be human, running at a fast pace with too many steps. The words were simple, but the impacted him greatly as the escaped the lips of his best friend in the whole world. “Opportunities walk past you like some cocky bastard wanting to pick a fight... You just have to ask yourself, ‘am I ready?’”
Nick knew a lot about opportunities as this point. He knew that they came and went like pieces of paper caught in a strong gust of wind, and that if you stood still, they would never come to you. He knew that by nature, they could be sweet or bitter, or maybe even just bittersweet. While simple, weightless entities, he was almost frightened by the wide array of outcomes an opportunity, a chance could bring - missed or caught. It was like trying to pick a star in the sky; too many choices to take, too many chances to be wrong, and too many good things on which one might miss out. No matter what a person did, they always had one foot in the hole. It was a strange thing, and it only reminded him more just how blurred the lines surrounding regret and loss could get.
Seeing Meredith emerge from the back room, he thought of the beautiful, life changing opportunity she had so generously and suddenly extended to him. He could barely stand accepting anything from her these days because he felt like there was some unpayable debt between them. He knew he couldn’t mention that to her, though, because like any good person, she felt the need to tell him it was “alright,” and that he was “fine, perfectly fine.” More often than not, it left him feeling wistful and unsatisfied, but he didn’t argue. Instead, he busied himself with flowers and painting, and sometimes watching people pass down the street to make up imaginary stories about their lives.
After waving to Meredith, he hopped off the counter and began walking outside, reaching for the crumpled packet of cigarettes and his brand new lighter as he did so. Once outside, he propped himself against the brick front of the building, one bright, white shoe against the brick itself, and looked out at the street, which was still being gently bathed by the shower of rain. ‘That’s the thing about these gentle rains...’ he told himself as he almost absently went about placing the cigarette between his lips and lit it. ‘They’re nice and slow, but they last for such a nice, long time...’ He sighed and closed his eyes. ‘Lonely...’ came an absent thought, drifting from his subconscious, which may or may not have been contemplating the idea of being alone in this new, quaint town, aside from Meredith who truly didn't count outside of the boutique despite her efforts.
Everyone always assumed Yui and her crew would never dare step foot outdoors. According to some of the citizens of Annapolis, they were shut-ins, freaks, akin to vampires in their distaste for the sun and all things normal. When Tokyo Central set up their own booth at Quiet Waters Park, it had shocked many. Not the proprietors of the park, though. They knew better of her. After all, she and her father had both donated a good chunk of money to the park for maintenance, new equipment and so on. They were more than happy to allow her to set up a booth at the annual Quiet Waters Park summer festival, and once the booth started running, the festival-goers were just as thrilled.
They brought in a grill and a multitude of kitchen supplies to make an array of delicious foods they often served at Kinboshi: desserts such as mochi ice cream, amanatto, jiro, manju, taiyaki, and more filling items such as onigiri, dango of all sorts and yakitori. While the names may have been intimidating to the customers, Yui's full explanations of the foods combined with the overpowering aroma of the delicacies drew in the people (and the money).
When business seemed to be dying down in favor for games and events, along with other booths, Yui had to step up her advertising. She looked a bit out of place at a summer festival, donned in a pair of skinny jeans, a black thin-strap top with chains hanging off of it, a pair of heavy, clunky black combat boots that came up to her knees, and her spiked choker, but the smile she wore on her face was nothing but alluring, stopping everyone of all ages at the booth and offering them a treat. After selling some mochi ice cream to a group of teenage girls, she turned around and cupped her hands over her mouth to amplify her voice. "Come taste the best Japanese food Annapolis has to offer! All treats one dollar each! Come try something new and bold! Come on over to our booth and give us a try! I guarantee you'll love what we have to offer!"
