#mr johnson.

[vitalphenomena]

@alulars

"We've already got plenty've," She makes a show of inspecting Johnson's offerings, "Flour." Surely he knows that. He probably watches Mackenzie check out at Trader Joes. "And if we didn't, it's the sorta thing I'd borrow from the lady next door. So why are you really here?"

[vitalphenomena]

@alulars // x

"I don't understand why what I said automatically means I must be hiding something."

JM likes their plants. Their music. They operate with eyes downcast, brows furrowed, headphones usually on. Feeling like they have to look at Mr. Johnson head-on is a symptom of their southern upbringing, combined with the earnestness and close emotional proximity of Knight.

"We've been real honest with you, all things considered. But you've gotta understand that it puts me on edge." Hesitant, seeking assurance they surely will not receive: "Right?"

[vitalphenomena]

@soothfog // @alulars // mr. johnson asked for: [chin] - to tilt my muse’s chin up to make them look at your muse. 

HE HAS LEARNED SOMETHING. He has learned to take his shoes off when he enters the apartment shared by Mackenzie Knight and Cass Hwang and JM Hamilton. He did not learn this from Mackenzie; she has always been too preoccupied to tell him to undo his shiny black, brown, tan loafers. Besides, it was never her rule in the first place. 

It was always Cass’s rule. 

So this means that Johnson has been here while Cass was here and Mackenzie has not. Mackenzie has not heard about this from Cass. And she has not heard about it from Johnson, either.

She has just seen him take off his shoes. 

Would Mackenzie still be herself if she seethed and let this slide? Would Mackenzie Knight be Mackenzie Knight if she did not act, and act viciously. 

“You’re comin’ ‘round when I’m not here,” she says, flat, not an accusation because it is just a fact that they both know. She tidies the kitchen and lines up her own shoes and when she turns around, straightens up, Johnson is right there.

Johnson is lifting two fingers. He uses them to tilt Mack’s chin upwards. It is the first time she has felt the pads of his fingertips, the indents of his fingerprints. She cannot distinguish to this level. But his indented, fingerprinted vessel will feel every pore on her warm and soft skin, will feel her thrumming pulse, will feel a tension in her jaw as natural of a part of her since her baby’s cry the day she was born. 

He doesn’t have time to speak. He was, perhaps, going to come clean about his detestation for her romantic situation. He was, perhaps, going to suggest a living situation safe from these temptations. I don’t know. I merely write the mortal. 

Mackenzie grabs his wrist. Mackenzie slams her other hand over his mouth.

Mackenzie shoves Mr. Johnson, hard. 

[vitalphenomena]

@alulars // mr. johnson

"He was my brother, and all."

"And I couldn't get to Shipley quick enough, before he skipped out on everyone. But I would have. I could have. Do you believe me?"

[vitalphenomena]

@alulars said: "Elfgar didn't do this."

"What the fuck're you bringin' Elfgar into it for, hm?"

She is crying hot, frustrated tears. She glowers at Mr. Johnson, frustrated that he, of all people, has gotten her to this point.

"I know he didn't do nothin'. I know this is all your fault. Fuck!"

[vitalphenomena]

@alulars // mr. johnson said: "I have this sick feeling inside."

Is there something wrong with her that she doesn't have it? This sick feeling, this feeling of something having gone wrong — it doesn't strike her as it strikes Johnson, JM, Elfgar. And maybe it's something that she and Cass have always had in one another: their ability to maintain composure, to know that whatever they are doing is the right thing, because what else could is possibly be? Not wrong, never wrong.

But maybe this lack of sickness, this lack of wrongness, is part of what compels Mr. Johnson to be here with Mack in the first place. The thought is comforting, but it also terrifies.

She doesn't know what to say, but something does come over her to call him something other than what he is, who he is. It's a new compulsion — she wonders if it started with Elfgar, after his confession. She wonders if it started before that but she didn't yet have the words that Elfgar does.

"I don't," she says plainly. "I don't feel — I don't feel like anything has gone wrong at all." Boldness develops in her tone. She juts her chin out defiantly.

"And so it hasn't. And so everything is alright. You're not gonna tell me I'm ever wrong, are you?"

[vitalphenomena]

@alulars // mr. johnson

"Long day?"

Not looking up, she prepares a black coffee and puts it on the pick-up counter.

[vitalphenomena]

This is how it goes: a man follows Mackenzie Knight home. He has no idea who she is, and he regrets his choice shortly after he makes it.

Having had the desire to visit one of her partners at work, she had left the florist's studio where Cass works. They'd done whatever it is partners (who can't keep their hands off of each other) do when the boss leaves the studio for the day, and then Cass had said it was time to do some actual work before closing up shop, and Mack had left in a pleasant mood.

And then she becomes aware of being followed.

What happens next is a blur of pepper spray, of outrage and indignation — of a woman standing up not only for herself but also for every other woman who hasn't been able to do what Mackenzie Knight does.

And maybe she does too much.

Maybe there shouldn't be a dead man in the alley, skull having cracked against the brick of the alley wall and then the pavement. Maybe she shouldn't have done that. Maybe, maybe, maybe.

She just stares at the man, willing him to rise back up. But she knows a corpse when she sees a corpse. And this is a corpse.

And then —

@alulars // Mr. Johnson asks: "What happened here?"

Mackenzie almost screams. But she swallows down the sound, breathing heavily through her nose instead. She doesn't want to bring any more attention to this scene. Who else is following her around, you know?

Because, like, how long has Johnson been here? How much did he see?

Why didn't she notice? What is it about him that allows him to wade from permanence to impermanence with ease? (Why hasn't she just figured it out already?, I, the all-knowing author, demand of her.)

"You have to help me," she says, and maybe that's exactly what he wants to hear. Part of me is skeptical that it wouldn't be.

"Please. I didn't do nothin' to nobody. — I didn't mean to." For once, she didn't mean to. Yet the violence is always the same, isn't it? This is just who she is, who she was always meant to be. And he knows that better than anybody else.