A/N : Thank you so much to everyone who supported me through writing this!! So excited to start it!! Constructive criticism is appreciated but please be kind <3
A/N2 : Gwuh sorry it's so short. Just wanted to get something out and finally start this!!! I want to make chapters from here on 1.5k+ words :3
Word count : 927
TW : mild description of nonfatal gunshot wounds, prescription drugs
“It was never personal,” Adler reassured as he reached down and gripped the 1911 at his hip. He raised it up and aimed expertly for Bell’s head, but with their own experience they drew their own weapon and attempted to aim. Bell wasn’t fast enough as Adler pulled the trigger when they were merely pointing towards his knee.
And time froze. Adler stood still for a moment before pressing his brows together in confusion and slowly lowering his weapon. Bell stood on the cliffside completely still, eyes focussed on Adler, gun aimed at his leg. The taller holstered his weapon and tilted his head to inspect Bell from afar. As he dared to take a couple steps forward he heard a ringing in his ears. No, not a ringing. A beeping. An incessant unrelenting beeping. Adler pressed his palm to his temple and rubbed to try and make the noise go away but it was to no avail. While he was distracted time resumed and Bell’s bullet connected with his knee as Adler’s connected with their head. Adler felt the splitting pain hit his kneecap for only a moment before he woke up in his bedroom, drenched in sweat and his watch alarm going off on the nightstand next to him. As his mind adjusted to being conscious he felt his knee ache once again.
Adler groaned as he propped himself up and with an uncoordinated hand began blindly searching for the source of the noise. He knocked something that sounded like a pill bottle over before finally locating the watch and clicking the buttons frantically until the thing restarted its timer and shut up. The newfound silence eased Adler’s annoyance but now there was nothing to distract from his damned knee.
Adler felt like he was on autopilot as he forced himself out of bed and turned the lamp on so he could locate the pills he dropped. The dream came back to him as he opened the pill bottle and tapped out a couple of the little Oxycodone tablets. He’d been reliving that moment every night for the past two weeks. Each time was always the same, yet each time he found himself confused before the bullet struck him. Adler chalked it up to dream logic as he tossed his head back and swallowed the pills dry.
With a heavy sigh he set the bottle down and actually looked at the clock. 6 AM wasn’t a bad time to start a day full of nothing, right? Surely not. Not when he’d be taking Penicillin in another two hours and more Oxy in four. Adler ignored the crutches the doctor provided for him as he hobbled across his room and headed for his closet to throw on some day clothes. As he got dressed in his usual slacks and quarter button up he couldn’t help but think that there wasn’t really a point in getting dressed if all he would do is sit around his house for the fourteenth day in a row. Maybe he would read a couple books or watch some television but other than that he had nothing he could do.
“Damn leg..” he muttered as he resumed hobbling, this time to the kitchen. The pain stung deep and spread from his upper shin up to his lower thigh but he grit his teeth and refused to acknowledge it despite no one being around to hear him grunt and groan in pain. It didn’t take him long to cook two sunny side up eggs for himself along with a bit of bacon. Adler sat at his kitchen island and ate in the dull dimness of his home.
He wasn’t sure why but ever since he’d been sent home he nearly never turned the lights on. All that lit his house was the natural light from the plentiful windows. The place was big but hardly lived in as he’d bought it for him and his ex-wife when they first married. Now the walls were barren of their past framed pictures and the furniture seemed oddly placed like there were only parts to a whole set left. Of course there was also the extra bedroom. The one which his son had been in. Now it was merely collecting dust with the blinds drawn shut and the curtains constantly closed. Adler didn’t even give it so much as a glance when he passed by it in the hallway nowadays.
The man shook his head as he pushed all of those thoughts away. The divorce, having to move everything out, the constant visual reminder that he had been missing something. Adler rinsed his plate and set it in the dishwasher. He was going to sit in the living room and watch VHS but the slowly rising sun through the window over the sink caught his eye. He did still go outside -the occasional sit in his backyard or the rare moments spent on his porch swing enjoying the light breeze- but he hadn’t gone to town. Adler’s brows furrowed as he stared out the window a little longer. Was this what he was going to amount to for the next few months? At this rate he was going to end up out of shape and floundering when he got back into the field. He had to do something with himself in the meantime.
Adler was glad the painkillers had settled in as he walked with a purpose into his bedroom to retrieve his sunglasses and wristwatch. He was going to walk around like a normal person whether the doctor liked it or not.
A/N2 : Believe it or not this chapter had around four different names before I settled.
Word count : 2,528
TW : Prescription drugs
The meal proved to be a pretty decent distraction from the knee pain. Even having already had breakfast Adler ate it all. Each and every flavor he encountered reminded him of his past there. The rest of the town had changed but it seemed Squirmy’s Diner was some relic, meant to remain untouched by the passage of time. Once Adler was satisfied he called for the check, but he noted how instead of the other teen server, a young man with the name tag “Jeremy” came by to deliver the check, run the transaction, then give Adler his receipt. Adler didn’t bother asking, assuming that the other teen had decided to shift responsibility to their coworker. He took up his crutches and left, awkwardly hobbling on the unfamiliar aid.
The autumn air bit his face as he stood outside, finding himself not knowing what to do. A few sparse cars passed by and the sidewalks were empty except for a single stray cat wandering near the edge of the gas station across the street. Adler sighed and made his way to the sidewalk, deciding to simply see where the nearest bus stop was, when it would pick up, and head back home.
Then he heard a slam like something hitting metal. Instinctually his head snapped towards the noise and his right hand reached for his gun; the one that wasn’t there.
Adler’s tense shoulders eased as he saw the teen from only minutes ago standing to the side of Squirmy’s, half hidden by the large dumpster. He could see them moving before once again he heard the slamming noise. They repeated the action, seeming to be kicking the side of the garbage container in anger. Once they tired themself out they took a couple steps back, revealing that their cheery work hat was missing and the bottom half of their apron was soaked in fresh oil. Their eyes were glued to the apron, fists balling at their sides, before they crudely ripped the fabric off of them, snapping the neck strap. When the waist strap didn’t come undone so easily they struggled a few times, tugging at the fabric to no avail. Finally they roughly pulled the string, releasing the knot, and balled the apron up so they could throw it at the brick wall beside them. The teen was reeling back to throw when they caught sight of Adler and froze.
The two held each other’s gaze silently. No words. No shifting. No silent communication. It looked more like a standoff than anything.
Adler could only assume they were barely holding it together. He could see the anger boiling in their eyes and the way their muscles remained tense, but he could see the glint in their eyes like there was a misty wall of tears just barely held back from breaking and letting the flood gates open. He knew that feeling. Knew how it felt to have it all threaten to boil over yet to keep the lid on as if it would stop the anger from exploding.
The teen’s expression remained hard until, after what felt like an eternity, their face melted into something that seemed like consideration. Adler’s face stayed unreadable until he saw Squirmy come through the back door of the diner and walk up to his worker, putting a hand on their shoulder. They whipped their head around to look at him but he didn’t even flinch. Their expression softened the moment they realized who had grabbed their attention. Adler could not hear but Squirmy said something to them and they nodded the tiniest of nods. Both looked back at Adler and the man merely stood there, unsure of what to do.
Squirmy gave him a look he’d never seen before. Adler tried to read the expression but all he could gather were the flat observations of the face. Brows pressed together only slightly, corners of the mouth downturned into a frown, eyes darkened and pleading. Adler knew Squirmy was asking him for something but what was unclear. He merely tore his eyes away from the old man only to find himself magnetized to the teen beside him. Their own expression was that walled, defensive stare, but Adler could still see that hint of consideration deep inside. Adler suddenly understood what may have been going on. At least, he thought he did. The scarred man looked at each of them and shook his head before continuing down the sidewalk, ambling with his crutches awkwardly. He wasn’t going to meddle in this, in the teen and whatever problems of theirs that Squirmy thought he could fix. It wasn’t his business and he wasn’t going to let it be his business. Though he couldn’t see the reactions to his rejection Adler could practically feel the stares on his back. They didn’t burn like jealousy or anger but rested heavy as if some weighted blanket of guilt was being cast on him. He merely shrugged it off as he walked, eventually out of sight.
The tense moment plagued his thoughts as he waited for the bus at the bus stop and as he rode home. Once on the corner of his street he made his way home only to find the image, the kid’s intense eyes, burned into his retinas like an old bubble-screened TV run too long. He’d seen those eyes before. In his own mirror staring back at him in his childhood home, in the barracks mirror staring back at him on the final day of boot camp, in the dingy mirror of the safehouse staring back at him in West Berlin, and in the mirror staring back at him in his current home.Those fiery eyes were that of nine hells and they were barely contained like some rabid creature hardly held back by the feeble bars of a crude cage. Adler only finally snapped from the image as he arrived at his front porch steps. With some focus he made his way to the front door and dug around for his house keys in his pocket.
Inside felt like a safe haven from the chilly outside and Adler was quick to shut the door behind him and lock it. He didn’ even bother putting his crushes up nicely, instead leaning them against the countertop as he passed through the kitchen to get to his room. Though he limped slightly he forced himself to walk without them as he was sick of the way they made his palms ache and shoulders tense. Adler passed by his office on his way to his bedroom only to notice that his answering machine light was on. He paused and turned around to make a detour. Adler entered his office, a neat minimal space with a simple window, desk, and bookshelf, and leaned down to click the play button on whatever message had been left for him.
The voice of Sims split the air immediately, “Hey, Doc, heard ya got it bad. Wanted to wish you some good luck or somethin’. Heard you went back to Cali. Sunshine and girls, huh? Doesn’t seem your style..”
There was a long pause before Sims spoke again, “I’m kinda stalling, here, I’ll be honest. I overheard Hudson having a conversation with some other agents. Said he didn’t think you’d make it back to working again.”
Adler felt his fists clench at each side. Hudson had always been a roadblock. Keeping secrets during the mission, doubting Adler’s methods, giving poor direction, Hudson seemed to always find a way to ruin things.
“I’m giving you a heads up,” Sims continued, “because I think there’s a chance if you do come back, Hudson is finding a reason to make you leave again. We both know he doesn’t like you. And, honestly, you’re one of the few I trust here. Keep your head on a swivel, man. Heal up and get back in the game.”
The machine beeped, signalling the end of the message. Adler would have clicked the stop button so the tape wouldn’t run but it wasn’t like there was anything else saved on it. Not until he heard the new voice ringing through the room. This one sent a practically paralyzing wave through him, jolting his insides and tightening his chest.
“Russ, I’m sorry for calling, I just wanted to let you know that… Well I wanted you to know that I really do hope you get better. I hope something in you changes. I know you’re abl-” Adler clicked the stop button. He couldn’t take hearing his ex wife's voice any longer. When he first got that message, years ago, he had listened to it on repeat until finally he forbade himself, taking pity on himself for how pathetic it was to fall asleep at a bare wooden desk with his hand resting heavily on the rewind button. Since then he preserved the tape, changing it out for a blank one whenever he left home for a long time just in case he got calls and the messages overwrote the one from his ex. Why he saved a tape he would never listen to he did not know. This past mission he must have forgotten to change it.
Adler stared at the answering machine, tempted to simply defile the tape and rip its film out, but he remained motionless as two halves of him fought for dominance. A part of him whispered to leave it be and another thought that perhaps destroying it would give him some kind of respite from the torment of the memories. For once he found himself indecisive. Adler was a man who knew how to make the hard choices. He knew who to kill and who to torture, where to go and what to do. Adler always called the shots yet right at this moment he felt helpless against himself. The two sides fighting left him frozen staring at the machine.
Finally, like some kind of compromise was found, he opened up the machine, took the tape out, and made his way to his kitchen. As his foot pressed down on the lever of the trash can and he held the tape over the gaping abyss of the top he hesitated. The action made him want to do nothing less than vomit but he dropped the tape inside and walked away as soon as he could muster, just to avoid dunking his hand inside to retrieve the tape. Adler didn’t even care about taking his leather jacket off anymore. He quickly located a clear tape in his desk drawer and put it inside the machine. He then went to his living room, plopping down in an armchair a little heavier than he’d have liked. The man removed his glasses, haphazardly tossing them on the coffee table, and ran his hands down his face as if rubbing at the flesh would take away all the wear and age; like the scars would wipe away like dry erase marker on a white board, the wrinkles of time would simply melt back into their past youthfulness, and the dullness in his eyes would polish into something brighter.
Just as he leaned back and attempted a calming deep breath his watch began to beep. Adler groaned and didn’t bother to look as he fumbled with the buttons to shut the alarm off. He knew it was his alarm for his antibiotics but he couldn’t be bothered. Not when they didn’t help with the pain like Oxycodone did and he knew his body was strong enough to fight off just about anything. Of course, just to keep the suspicion off, he would likely throw the pills out later just so he would refill his prescription at the proper time.
All through life Adler hadn’t cared for medication. He was consistently certain his immune system was just fine and consistently his body proved him right. No coat in winter? No cold. Hung around his sick friends? Perfectly fine.Slight rise in body temperature? Nothing came of it. Why would he need to start worrying now? He sure didn’t have this kind of luxury medication in ‘Nam and he had survived.
‘Nam.
Vietnam.
The Vietnam War.
Adler hadn’t been some expendable cannon fodder soldier in those times. He was special. His services were extraordinary and the results of said services had endless worth to the CIA. Back in those days Adler was much younger than he was now. In his early thirties he had been at least a little lively. Thinking back to those times only served to remind Adler of the memories implanted into Bell’s mind.
His little lab experiment.
That memory he planted, where he led them to the helicopter to dispatch for that day’s mission, he had been smiling. The detail was no accident, either. Of all the lies in the entire situation surrounding Bell, that smile hadn’t been one of them. Sure, he didn’t lead Bell to the helicopter, but he led someone to the helicopter and he smiled at them.
What was so worth smiling back then?
Adler had been in the midst of a war that didn’t seem to end. One that was fed by rich men with no other fun except to watch little working class ants go off to die overseas. The only smiles that ever went around Camp Haskins were that of drunk men playing poker, betting MREs like they were anything more than flavorless packets meant to sustain. The other soldiers had no goal but to survive in the brutal fields and forests. The jungle was the only thing half of them knew at that point and it was a dangerous place. Unlike them, Adler had more than that. He was an important asset, a team leader, a man worth being revered. He had something to gain and something to lose, though.
Something to lose.
What did he have to lose now?
Adler had a house and truck he could easily replace. Beyond that he had money and a knee injury but nothing more. What did he have then that he doesn’t have now? Over time all he ever did was gain more control, more money, more connections. He was even less expendable than before and, almost a greater point of satisfaction, he was a nuisance that the CIA couldn’t rid themselves of. The CIA needed him.
If he was so needed then why was he so alone in this moment of darkness?
What was missing?
Adler’s eyes slowly drifted towards the archway into the kitchen. He couldn’t see it but he knew what he was looking for. The trash can. The tape. His ex wife. She had given him someone to come home to, someone to care for, someone to live for. She was his purpose.
Now she was missing. Not even that, no. Adler knew she was somewhere. In fact, if anything, she was somewhere here in San Diego. He was here too.
Or was he?
The man surely was here in the flesh, but without his purpose, that thing which sustained him and seemed to justify every misdeed he’d ever committed, he wasn’t truly there in his head.
TW : Implied but unspecified childhood trauma, irresponsible use of prescription drugs
George Squirmy was not the kind of old man you would expect to see still up and kicking. He was an avid smoker, drinker, and he was consistently seen ambling around in places he shouldn’t. Back in the day no one knew how he wasn’t put in a home or forced to retire due to being senile. Every time authority questioned him he was smart enough to cover his ass and skirt by.
As the old man, white beard down to his chest and M shaped receding hairline marking the start of short, thin, combed back hair, came and leaned on the table in front of Adler, Adler couldn’t believe his eyes. He blinked a few times as if the old man would disappear when he opened them again. The elder grinned another holey grin, chortling, “Seems like you’re sure surprised to see me, son!”
He invited himself to sit across from Adler. As he bent down his knees popped and frail arms shook.
“I am…” Adler mumbled, “But I’m more surprised you recognized me, though.”
“Oh don’t be like that. I know the face of anybody,” Squirmy shook his head. “Not to mention, last I saw ya, you were already grown! Scars don’t make a damn difference.”
Adler slowly nodded. Before he could say anything in response Squirmy caught sight of his crutches.
“What’re those for? Surely not you! Spry young thing,” he laughed, coughing harshly, but laughing through it like it wasn’t a concern.
“They’re for me, unfortunately. I won’t need them soon though.”
Squirmy hummed raspily and leaned forward on the table, “So, you finally got shot?”
“I’ve been shot quite a few times so far. Just this one…” Adler paused as he thought back to the cliff’s edge. Not only was it all CIA secrets but everyone thought he was still with the US Army Special Forces. It wasn’t like there was a legal way to let people know you were with the CIA. The less details the better. “I ended up taking a bullet to the knee.”
“To the knee? Well ain’t that something! Are you going back or staying here?”
“I’m going back. Just need to heal up first,” Adler responded dryly.
The back doors opened and the teen server from before silently came by with the drink Adler ordered. Just after they turned on their heel to leave, Squirmy beckoned them over by name. The teen turned back around and stared at the older man. Despite how displeased as the downturned corners of their mouth made them seem, Adler could see their eyes soften when they gazed down at their boss.
Squirmy returned his attention to Adler with a closed lipped smile, “You just heard me say their name but this is my best server. All young n’ spry just like when you were their age!”
Adler didn’t bother giving the teen another once-over. He merely nodded despite the multitudes of differences he saw in his younger self and the server standing at the end of the table. His unanswered question from earlier came to mind and he raised a brow at Squirmy. “Young as I was, you said. What’s a kid doing working when they should be at school?”
The teen’s eyes flashed over to Adler in a heartbeat and their brows twitched. Adler took note of the little microexpression. Clearly this kid knew what he was doing.
“This one? It’s a long story... But it’s not illegal for them to be working at these hours.”
Adler glanced at the teen, “Long story like my kind of long story? Or a more or less long story?” He stared into the eyes of the older man across from him. Squirmy knew all about Adler’s life growing up. George Squirmy was the man that kept that young boy “lil Russ” safe when the house was loud and dangerous. Squirmy remained silent as he thought about his response carefully. Two older men held each other’s gaze intensely from their respective sides of the table like it was some kind of telepathic conversation. The server stood to the side awkwardly. They knew something was going on between the two, but couldn’t quite figure out what.
“A little longer story,” Squirmy finally answered.
Adler tilted his head to the side with a brow raised, “Longer?”
Finally the teen understood. They excused themselves dryly, “I think Jeremy might be overcooking the fries.”
Squirmy frowned but didn’t stop them this time. Once they were completely into the back again Squirmy looked to Adler. “It’s a story arguably worse than yours, son.”
“Arguably?” Adler prompted, noting the old man’s word choice.
“Well some stories are different and you can’t really compare them fairly.”
“Worse than me and you’re going to beat around the bush?”
Squirmy’s gaze shifted to the side and his scruffy brows pressed together. “I don’t think it’s my story to tell, Russ.”
Adler leaned back so his back was flat to the seat cushion and crossed his arms. In all truthfulness he didn’t even know why he cared so much about the reason for the teen working there. He dug into himself, searching for something that seemed logical, and when he came to the conclusion that he felt his past in this place was almost threatened by the new blood’s presence he immediately backed out of thinking and shook his head.
He nodded, “Alright then.”
“They’re a good bit like you, though. Before you left.”
Before you left.
By the time Russell Adler had left for the military he was a different man than the boy who lived on Oak Drive in the house that looked like one made for perfect little dolls with a white picket fence.
“You sound like you’re posing it as a good thing.”
“It’s not a good thing. Kid don't have much to their name. Barely has a plan for their future.”
“Well that’s nothing like me. When I was leaving I-”
“They got that personality you had. The spark and all. The spite to live.”
“Just no care to continue. The last thread,” Adler finished for him. Squirmy merely nodded, eyes falling to the table. The elder sighed and put his hands on the table before looking back up to Adler.
“I’ll be honest, Russ, I haven’t a clue what to do with ‘em. Great worker, smart kid, caring even if it don’t seem like it. But there’s no drive in their life. They're on that last straw.”
Adler stared at Squirmy for a few silent moments, eyes narrowed as he tried reading the older’s face. He leaned forward on the table, elbow resting on the edge, “What do you think telling me is going to do?”
Squirmy went serious, “I didn’t have to save you. You saved yourself. I don’t know how to instill that in this kid.”
Silence fell between the two men and at first Adler didn’t think Squirmy was being serious. Surely this old man wasn’t so set on Adler helping with this scruffy kid. No matter how similar they were meant to be to his younger self, nothing stirred in Adler’s chest. There was no urge to drop everything and help. He had his own things to deal with and a kid was not something he was willing to add to the agenda.
“I’m not the guy people ask for help, Squirmy. Plus, I’ve got to worry about myself. Leg is gonna heal and then I’m out of here.”
“Think on it, Russ,” Squirmy sighed as one last little push. The old man stood up from his seat but lingered for a moment to stare at Adler’s scar. Finally his eyes met Adler’s again and Adler was struck in his chest by the amount of sorrow he saw in the old man’s eyes. “Think about what you’d have wanted others to do when you were young. If I wasn’t there, what would have happened? Where would you be now?”
Squirmy shuffled away, leaving Adler to stare after him with his thoughts racing with a multitude of answers. One stuck out most of all, seeming to resonate like a bell inside Adler’s skull:
In the gutter.
Adler swore there was a ringing in his ears that drowned out everything as he stared after Squirmy. The swinging doors to the back went back and forth a couple of times before settling fully shut. Memories flashed through Adler’s head like some kind of demented slideshow of his past. They felt like they were going to suffocate him but the effort was crudely interrupted as the teen server came back out with Adler’s order. They held the tray in one hand while the other unloaded his meal onto the table. Adler sat staring at the food. It looked just as deliciously greasy as when he was young. Despite that, he could no longer muster up the desire to eat. Adler only stopped staring at the food when he realized the server hadn’t left. Instead, they lingered with a hand resting on the table. Adler looked up at them only to be met with an intense stare.
“Whatever he told you isn’t his business to tell,” they declared like it was some kind of warning.
Adler let out a little huff through his nose and straightened up in his seat. “Squirmy will say what he wants. But regardless, on the subject we were just discussing I don't find myself particularly interested.”
The teen nodded and turned on their heel, “Good,” but Adler could read in the twitch of their lip that his response had disappointed them. He found himself tilting his head just a hint at the idea that perhaps the kid did care about his opinion. They had no reason to. But if they were anything like he was as a child then they did care. In fact, in that case they would care quite a whole lot. Adler remembered in his later teens having his select few he let stay close to him. Everyone else was merely an object he interacted with through the rest of his day. The teacher giving instructions was just some thing he got information from and the person who believed they were Adler’s friend was just another distraction from what he needed to do.
But that was merely the façade, wasn’t it?
Those people did matter.
The way the teacher knew full well Adler already knew everything about to be taught, that he shouldn’t have been there, and the way that person couldn’t help but ask if he was alright when he gave a short response once again, made them matter.
Adler felt his temples begin to ache as he dug just a bit too deep into it all. It was a paradoxical thing, his past. Teenage Adler couldn’t help but keep everyone at arm's length and simultaneously miss everyone he pushed away.
The man sighed as he shoved all the thoughts back into their corner at the back of his mind. He tried once again to muster an appetite but nothing came to him. Frustrated now, Adler huffed and his hands gripped at his knees.
His knee.
Adler groaned and his jaw set. He pulled his hand away from his injured knee and looked down just to be sure his wrappings didn’t bleed through. He saw nothing and was grateful for it. Blood meant a doctor’s visit. A doctor’s visit meant more hassle. Adler reached into his jacket pocket, searching for the bottle of Oxycodone he had brought with him. Once located he quickly took it out and popped the cap so he could pop two tablets into his mouth. Sure, his alarm for his next dose wouldn’t go off for another three hours, but there wasn't any harm in taking it early when he was still feeling pain. To be fair said pain was from his own doing but the doctor warned that there was a chance he wouldn't even feel things like that. So, surely, he needed it.
He sighed as he focused on the coming relief. In an attempt to distract himself he picked up the burger on the plate before him and took a bite.
Hello hello! This is my side blog for my COD (Call Of Duty) fixation! I intend on posting silly stuff here including art, drabbles, headcanons, etc.. Feel free to follow <3
Below is a little about me!
About Me!!
Name: Operator 823
Age: 16
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Final Words!!
Made this account for funsies! You can find my COD OC blog here and my main blog here. Though it mostly focuses on random stuff. This blog is more designed to be all inclusive and comforting in a way. Everyone (who is a civil creature and sensible soul) is welcome here including those part of the LGBT+ community, minors, otherkin, therians, etc.. Hence why my name is very gender neutral, I'm fine with any nicknames, and you can use any pronouns for me! I want people to refer to me in a way that makes them find my persona comforting!
A/N : Ahhh!! Second chapter!! This has been cooking in my brain like stove popcorn…
Word count : 1,531
TW : None!
Adler didn’t know what he expected when he went outside. He stood at his front steps leaning on his good leg for about three minutes before sighing and heading back inside. Then he emerged once more with a crutch under each arm. The brick stairs were nothing after that.
The hard part was going into town. Adler lived in one of the small neighborhoods just on the edge of his hometown in San Diego. The Missus always wanted to live close to their roots. The shudders were still painted her preferred shade of ever so slightly off white to contrast the red brick and deep brown support beams and rails on the porch. His old red 1960 Chevy C10 sat in the driveway, taunting him with how pristine it was kept but useless it was since the doctor warned him about driving. Adler truly could get a new truck. He had plenty of money for it and he liked a few of the newer models, but there was something about the old one that he couldn’t part with. He always told himself it was a classic and that was why but late at night when he flipped through the catalog of new vehicles he knew it was because The Missus had adored that truck. It kept them together for a little while longer.
Adler shook off the thoughts as he made his way down the sidewalk. He could easily catch the bus and get a ride into the dense part of town from there. Though the crutches were awkward to maneuver with, Adler made quick work of his journey to the street corner. Finally he found some rest on the bus stop bench while he waited for the driver to come by. He looked around only to realize just how much this street corner alone had changed. The light pole was updated from the shabby wooden beam to a newer cleaner one devoid of the multitude of staples left behind from missing pets and local events, the sidewalk was paved maybe only a few months ago, and the bench was clear of graffiti. Suddenly Adler felt out of place when he realized how new everything was. Meanwhile all he did was get older, more mangled, and somehow even colder than before.
He kept staring around as he waited for the bus. He further noticed that in the fresh pavement was the mark of what was likely the initials of two teen lovebirds with a heart between them on the very edge of the ground. Even as the bus pulled up he felt old again. It was obviously one of the older ones but it was newly upgraded with a fresh paint job and the busted or scratched windows were replaced, visibly better quality than the old ones which weren’t. Adler hoisted himself up and ambled his way up the bus steps. After pulling out his wallet and paying the bus fare he sat himself down in the very first seat only to realize that even the seats were brand new as there were obvious fresh seams where the new leather had been patched onto the old and some of the seats even had whole new covers.
The ride into the center of town didn’t take more than a couple of stops and when Adler glanced from the nearby street sign through the window to the small map posted above the bus driver’s seat he realized he was where he wanted to be. He gathered himself onto his crutches and got off the bus, but once he looked around at the area he realized that even the big things changed. The roads were freshly paved, the gas station was a completely different company, the convenience store was replaced by a new fast food chain, and just about everything else was nearly unrecognizable if it weren’t for the street signs remaining the same and giving Adler some semblance of direction. He groaned under his breath as he made his way down the sidewalk. As he went he looked around in hopes something from what he remembered had remained the same.
It took several blocks and plenty of stares from passersby before Adler finally spotted a place he recognized entirely. He pushed himself just a little harder on his crutches to try and close the distance faster. Adler cursed himself in his head for not listening to his nurse when he was explaining how to utilize them properly. Eventually he did make it and awkwardly pushed the door open, stepping into what felt like a blast from the past.
Squirmy’s Diner was run by local old man George Squirmy back in the day. The place had never been the most sophisticated. Half the lights flickered, a few of the checkerboard tiles were cracked, and the counters had a seemingly permanent greasy film over them. But the food more than made up for it. Smash burgers that melted in your mouth, soda where the syrup content was just right, milkshakes with the best consistency known to many, and perfectly salted fries with a satisfying crisp. Each time Adler came when he was just a teen he got the same thing: double patty smash burger with bacon, lettuce, tomato, American cheese, and onions. Of course a generic soda and a medium order of fries on the side. It seemed that it was still the same dingy little joint it had been when Adler was young. Though there was no telling if the previous owner was still around, Adler wouldn’t be surprised if the old man had died. In fact, if he was still there then it would be an absolute miracle.
Adler noticed the booths were all set up in the same formation as he remembered and took a seat where he used to when he was young. For a moment a flash hit him and he remembered taking The Missus on a first date. They had romantically shared a banana split at this very table and just before dropping her back off at her house she’d kissed him on the cheek and scurried away like nervous love-sick teens do. That night Adler had grinned all the way home and all the way until he fell asleep.
Any outsider would think Adler was having a seizure or perhaps asleep with his eyes open. But the server that approached Adler’s table didn’t seem to care that he was supposedly out of it. They tapped their pen on the edge of the table to get his attention and finally he sat up straight and looked up at them. The teen before Adler had an expression that entirely contrasted their bright uniform. A red and white striped visor with a matching polo and white uniform pants. Their name tag was displayed on their left breast but seemed purposefully partially covered by their shirt collar.
“Can I take your order, sir?” they asked in a monotone voice and a smile that at least tried to be customer friendly.
Adler simply raised a brow, eye obscured by his sunglasses, “Aren’t you supposed to be in school, kid?”
The teen pressed their lips together in a firm line but simply took a deep breath, “Sure, I am, but I’m not the one to ask about that.” They shifted their weight to their other leg and rolled their shoulder before clearing their throat. “But that doesn’t matter. What matters is your order.”
Behind his shades Adler narrowed his eyes in suspicion. Nevertheless he reported his order to the teen server and they wrote it down before scurrying off to the back. Adler glanced around as he waited, noting the way there were old newspaper snippets from headlines about Squirmy’s big success when it first opened. They took him back to the days.
The days when he had all the friends in the world who would laugh at just about any joke he made. The days when he was linebacker and after a game the whole team and their girlfriends would come here to eat their victory dinner. The days when he could charm anyone and get just about anything he wanted.
But now he had none of that. No friends, just work partners. No girls, just an empty house. No charm, just this ugly scarred mug.
Adler sighed heavily and leaned back onto the stiff cushioning of the booth seat. He screwed his eyes shut and removed his glasses so he could rub his face. Sitting still so much was going to be the death of him. He folded the arms of his glasses and hooked one on his shirt collar. With the tint gone everything seemed a little bit brighter. Almost too bright.
But what caught his eye was the old man emerging from the kitchen with a big flourish and looking around until he locked eyes with Adler. The man’s eyes went big as moons and his brows nearly touched his receding hairline as a holey grin crossed his face.
“Is that little Russ? Back in town?”
Adler felt his lips part in deep awe and his brows furrow like his brain was buffering.
