also, Micah -- verified on Twitter -- with a simple handle because I’m sure Charley saw him try to do something fun and was like, “Keep it official, Micah.”
He rolled his eyes and typed in @iammicahwest and glanced up at her like, “That official enough?”
“You’ll thank me later when you don’t have to fight some fan account for your handle.”
He nearly asked why he’d have any fans in the first place, but the thought that he might kind of took his breath away. “You really think I’ll have fan accounts?”
His mom smiled down at him and pecked his forehead. “Dozens. They’ll pull up all your old school pictures and love every single one of them.”
His laugh came out more like a groan. “Creepy.”
“Dedicated,” she spun. “You might not see it now, but one day? You’re gonna make a difference, Micah.”
He had to focus on his phone so he wouldn’t embarrass himself. “Thanks, Mom.”
about: Micah can’t find Charley when he gets home that night. // post-305. // mention of 13rw.
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Micah probably should’ve stuck around for his mom. He could’ve softened the news, or been there to talk to her about it, or even just been there to help cuss out his dad. But having to hear all of that once was bad enough. Walking to meet his friends, unable to even --
Nobody knows yet. Not Keke, not Nova, not Aunt Vi, not Ant, not Ahsha, not anyone. If he heard it again, if he had to be there and see her break down all over again?
Nice ones, open-toed, so she must’ve gone out with Nova after she found out. Probably drank, since they’re not in a line, or back in her closet. He scoops them up for her, so he can leave them near her door on the way to his room.
But all of the lights are off upstairs too. She normally leaves the hall light on, and he cuts it out when he gets in. She’s here, isn’t she? His door’s still closed down the hall, so she’s not in there.
Her door’s cracked. He peeks before pushing it open, but she’s not in bed. Not working or sleeping in it. He scans the room as his breathing picks up. Bed’s still made. Closet’s open, but she leaves it open all the time. Is she in the office or--
Water shifts. His eyes jump to the bathroom door. Closed. His pulse pounds in his ears for a second. It’s after midnight; why would his mom still be in a bath? She doesn’t take baths that often, and in Thirteen Reasons Why -- and with Whitney Houston -- and --
Micah stumbles to the door with his phone in his hand. His mom’s okay. She has to be. This off vibe is a project, and she’s fine because she’s always fine. She’s so strong, and she would never leave him, and not like this, never like this.
A small sob splits his lips, and he curses before raising his fist to the door. He breathes deep to steady it and knocks. Soft like his mom does — unobtrusive, unassuming, just there. She doesn’t answer. Not quick enough. He knocks again. Harder, like his dad — unintentionally disruptive, large but still unsure of just how much. She should answer.
“Mom?”
He pushes at the door as she—
“One second.”
But it’s open already. He’s in the doorway, fist up, heart pounding, eyes wide, and she is curled smaller than he has ever seen her, shaking in the center of her big, new tub.
She sounds tired. “I said—“
They both sound terrified. “I didn’t hear you.”
“Just—“ she gathers herself, but there’s not much to gather in a tub with no bubbles “—give me a second.”
But he did that already. He left earlier, and now she’s here alone.
Micah at least glances away. Her robe is on the floor next to the mat, so he steps to it. His socks slide on the floor. He tries not to breathe too loud.
“I can wait,” he says.
He takes the robe in his hands. Glances back over at her. Her face is red like she scrubbed it, but her hair’s not wet. She hasn’t been dunking herself in here. Just pruning, it looks like. She stares up at him with bloodshot eyes and her arms around herself. Has his mom always been this small, or did his dad do this to her?
Micah holds the robe out and turns again, so she can take it. Can get out of the tub and splash a little water onto him as she moves. He watches the walls. They know what she’s been up to.
Crying, maybe. Her phone’s not even in here, so there couldn’t have been much else to do. Maybe he’ll lead with that. Or a joke. Or how Ant really just needs someone to hear him, and Micah understands that, and maybe his mom would to. Or—
“I’m decent.”
She’ll talk first.
He nods. Then nods again. She’s decent, but not happy. Decent, not… not…
“Is that all you are?” he asks.
She sits on the edge of the tub. Her hands cling to the edge, and her sigh fills the room. Steals his air too just to make it.
“I think so. For now.”
“Okay.”
And his mom — his sweet, strong, heartbroken mom — sort of sobs out a “And you?”
And he tries to be as solid as her. Tries another nod, but his head’s too heavy to lift back up, and his throat’s too tight, and his lips too dry, and —
He drops to the tub beside her. Catches the side with one hand, and his mom with his other.
“I don’t know.”
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a/n: I’ll probably edit this more later bc it really is more of a scene than a whole fic, but I have a lot of feelings, and I imagine Micah not knowing how to see his mom like this. not knowing how to care for her, or himself, or even what to do next.
note: mind you, it was barely 1:05pm when Charley needed somebody in 3x05. // what the conversations could’ve sounded like if Rah / Violet / Nova had gotten Charley’s call.
-- Ralph Angel
He sighs the second he clicks on the line. The radio’s still blaring as he turns down the dial. Charley sniffles, stifles the sob before it comes out too clear. She shouldn’t have called. He’s probably on lunch, or working, or-- he’s busy.
“Charley, I’m a little busy right now. Can I--”
The sob gets out anyway. She clamps a hand over her mouth, but another follows right after.
“Hey, Charley? What’s goin’ on?”
She opens her mouth to say it, but even the words -- the thought -- she chokes on them.
“Shit. I’m not even close to the house right now. Just gimme a second.” His blinker clicks in the background. “Tell me where you at. The mill? Vi’s?”
“H-house.” Her new house for her and her son. For their family. But Davis....
“I’ll be right there. I’ll -- I’ll be there.”
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-- Violet
Violet is mid-sentence when she picks up. “Eating nuggets and calling it whole meals. You can’t -- Charley, baby, what is it?”
A baby. That’s what it is. Not even a baby, actually, a girl, a teen. A whole human being with thoughts and feelings and a life in the city that Charley was forced to leave because of him!
Violet says, “Baby, breathe. You can’t talk if you’re not breathing. Come on. Do it with me.”
A deep breath in, and Charley’s leg bounces against the tile of her kitchen. A deep breath out, and her hand grips for the countertop. A deep breath in; Davis doesn’t get to do this again. Out--
“Charley?”
She forces it out, “Milena Goludian was not the first woman Davis cheated on me with.” The words land in front of her like lead. Must land on Violet too since her aunt goes quiet. “I have no clue how many others there were, but--” Charley laughs. She has to laugh. If she laughs, then maybe she won’t break down in her kitchen again over that man!
“But what?”
Charley clenches her first hard enough her nails dig into her palm. “He got one pregnant. Thirteen years ago.”
The air rushes clear out of Violet. Straight through the phone in a sigh that chills Charley.
Nova picks up, and there’s a buzz in her voice. A jitter as she says, “Hey, sis, I’m out and about right now.” It’s her company voice. “Can I call you back?”
Charley settles low against her counter. “I wish you wouldn’t.” She shouldn’t have to say much more, not to Nova. Nova normally hears her. Nova understands that sometimes Charley doesn’t have the right words.
“Look, if this is about your business with the Landrys--”
“It’s not. I just....” She can’t get Nova here, though, without the right words. “Davis, he--”
“Whoa!” Wood hits something. Something else falls. Water splashes? Charley’s brows furrow. Is Nova by the river? Charley brings the phone closer to her ear to hear, but she must not hear right because what she hears -- who she hears -- doesn’t make sense.
A light “You good?” that sounds like Remy. Low and warm and soothing.
A lighter “Yes, I’m fine” that is definitely her sister.
“W-Where are you?” Who is she with?
Nova hesitates. “Fishing. Thinking about Daddy.”
Nova hasn’t fished since they were kids.
Charley asks, “Alone?”
Nova chuckles. “You know we’re never alone, not out here.”
Charley clocks that. Stands up as a chill hits her. Nova doesn’t say anything else on that end, and Nova’s normally not that quiet. She doesn’t hang out with quiet people either. She wouldn’t....
Remy’s been at the farm, teaching, and Nova’s been there, writing. Do they spend time together? Is he with everyone in the family but Charley? And does Charley have to hear about this today of all days?
“Charley?”
She blinks back to her kitchen. “It’s fine. We can talk another time.”
“You sure because I can--”
“No, enjoy fishing. Catch something good for the rest of us.”
“Right. If I have any leftovers,” Nova laughs, but there’s a low timber that follows. Echoes. Hollows Charley out.
She stares out across her space. Nova wouldn’t befriend Remy, not right now, not after how he hurt Charley, right? Violet forgives, but Nova brews potions. Charley’s eyes glaze over. Right?
“Talk to you later. Love you.”
“Love you too. Always. You know that.”
If Charley knows it, then why did Nova feel like she needed to say it? And who the fuck is Charley going to talk about this?
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a/n: a bunch of alternate moments because the possibilities ~ also, the thought of Charley hearing Remy in the background of her call with Nova was one I couldn’t pass up.
(maybe there should be another one where she calls Darla to talk to somebody else who’s kept a lie for so damn long?)
a half-thought for Charley’s mild-hangover after 3x05
Charley half-expects Jacob to be at the mill when she arrives the next morning. He seems the type to rest against the doorframe with a bottle of water and spend the next few minutes dancing around the subject of what happened. But her office is empty when she gets there.
No flowers, no water, no messages even. She rolls her eyes at herself as she sits down in her chair. Yesterday, she’d barely wanted his attention, and today -- what -- she’s disappointed one kiss didn’t send him onto his knees?
Her phone pings with a new email. She swipes it open with a sigh.
From: Jacob Boudreaux
Subject: FWD: Hangover Cures
While you didn’t look it, I figure the drinks might’ve taken more out of you than you care to admit. I took the liberty of sending the best cures Google can find.
If doing these yourself feels like too much, I make a mean avocado scramble. Cures the worst ails. Might even make you dance.
She doesn’t smile. (She doesn’t.) But her eyes shine a bit through the haze before she clicks on the first link in the email.
This, she can do. An email doesn’t ask her about what last night meant. An email doesn’t drop hooded eyes to her lips, or slip the door closed behind him. An email doesn’t still smell a bit like whiskey, or bring back the buzz of the streetlights and the bugs and him.
(Open-mouthed, warm, and there. The only one who was there when she needed it.)
An email’s just that. A few words that she can read before deleting the message and emptying her trash folder and continuing on with her day.
a healer and a superhero walk into a march // a black lightning-queen sugar crossover fic
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about: Queen Sugar-Black Lightning crossover; Sure, Anissa's the exact sort of girl Nova used to stumble after back in the day. Another case study in the same activist infatuation she'd had with Chantal. But that doesn't mean anything will happen, right?
+ ao3 (technically, post s2 of QS, but I mean, only minor spoilers there?)
+ protest shirts for this fictional march read “MORE THAN A NAME” to highlight that the town's literal name is Freeland, and people still aren't free there.
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Micah gives a low whistle as he scans the crowd. "It's pretty impressive, I'm not gonna lie." A few hundred people have taken to the center of Freeland, all gathered to either protest what's been happening out in the city, or to get a glimpse of the mysterious hero, Black Lightning. Micah's in the latter group, and his phone's one click away from him going live on IG.
Nova tucks her hands into her back pockets. "You're only here to see him."
"Okay, and?" Micah chuckles. "Like you're not here to see her." He throws one hand out to where Anissa Pierce manages a few volunteers a few feet away. His eyes snag on her get up -- on the MORE THAN A NAME t-shirt and the leggings that could probably be painted on -- before he glances back Nova's way.
Nova scoffs, but the disbelief's more at being caught than anything else. "I'm here for the march."
She holds her head up even higher. Sure, Anissa's the exact sort of girl Nova used to stumble after back in the day. Another case study in the same activist infatuation she'd had with Chantal. Anissa cares about the community and her people and the ways in which injustices overlap to disadvantage everybody out here in Freeland. And she doesn't look half bad doing it.
"Your uncle's older than her," Nova reminds him. Ralph Angel clocks in at a smooth twenty-seven. Anissa's barely hit twenty-five, or so the Twitter threads say.
Micah shrugs. "The heart wants what it wants."
"Boy, you better--" He laughs, so Nova shoves the side of his face instead of finishing her sentence. Micah rolls with it and tucks himself up to her side for a quick hug. She almost doesn't even squeeze him back. She gives in, though.
Getting Micah out of Louisiana took a hell of a lot of bribing and promises, and it's another debt to Charley that Nova won't be able to pay back any time soon. But her nephew deserves the chance to see the world, and if he can help some people out at the same time, then she can grovel a bit to make that happen.
"I just want to see you happy," he says, which almost always means somebody wants to see her set up. "And maybe see a black superhero at the same time."
"Ah, yes, Brother Lightning." Nova slips on her preacher's voice for the last part. It gets a laugh out of Micah, and one from behind them too. Nova glances over her shoulder to see who's laughing only to catch Anissa herself stepping up to them.
"That's just what the Reverend calls him," Anissa says, brown eyes mostly focused on Nova. "Rest of us just go for his name."
Micah bounces a step forward. "Is he coming?"
Nova gives him a silencing look, but neither he nor Anissa pay her any mind.
Anissa says, "We won't know unless something happens, and I'm hoping nothing does." Past protests in Freeland have been shot up by the 100, something Charley was quick to mention when they brought up going out there. "We've got top notch security for this march. Cameras everywhere too, so it wouldn't be smart for any sort of heroes to pop out today."
"But you've seen him, right? I mean, you're the one of the first people he saved when he came out of retirement."
Nova's quick to say "You don't have to talk about what happened that night." She levels a stare down at Micah that shrinks him. "He knows better than to push about nights like that."
Micah's nostrils flare. "Thought it was good to talk about it."
"For you," Nova says.
"For everybody," Anissa says. She rolls her shoulders back while she evens out her breathing. "I don't think I've ever been as scared as when the 100 took me and my sister. As thankful as I am for Black Lightning being there, I'm just as thankful for my community for helping us readjust and supporting us after all that went down. Nights like that can change you, for better or for worse."
Micah nods. "Yeah, I know what you mean." His own near death experience left him damn near non-verbal before he started getting more involved with helping people out.
Anissa smiles his way, and he grins back easy as anything else. Then Anissa turns to Nova. Her smile stays, but the way her lips curl up at the edges makes Nova laugh. Anissa chuckles too.
"Nice to officially meet you, by the way." Anissa holds her hand out. "Anissa Pierce."
Nova takes it. "Nova Bordelon, journalist."
"You covering the march, or is this just for pleasure?" Anissa's eyes twinkle when she says it.
Nova does her best not to react with more than a tilt of her head. Does every lady out here have more game than she does? "My nephew wanted to see how y'all do it over here." She speaks over the forming smirk on Anissa's face. Grounds herself as she reminds herself of the reason for the protesting in this country. "And I wanted to let you know that I see you out here, putting in the work. I thank you."
Anissa straightens up with the shift in the conversation. She takes her hand back to her side. "Thank you too. Your piece from a few months back, the one about living in Trump's America, really resonated with me. I even got my little sister to share it."
Nova laughs at that. "Little sisters can be like that sometimes."
Anissa nods with a smile, but she has a sort of reservation to her, a respectful hesitance. "Right."
Nova nearly reaches for Anissa's hand again. She's always been tactile in that way. "Say what's on your mind. There's no judgment here."
Anissa wavers a moment before saying, "I saw your TV appearance with Dr. Robert DuBois." Nova's lips thin out at the name, and Anissa speaks quick to beat the empty thanks. "You held a lot more than your own up there, and I wanted to let you know that not everybody's waiting to switch things up on you the way he was. It wasn't very becoming, especially with someone you were close to."
Nova takes all that in, but it stays right under her skin. "That obvious?" She's never been the type to exactly hide a relationship, but she didn't need the world over knowing about it either.
"People talk."
Her nephew's talking right now. Micah making friends with another person in the shirt of the day.
Nova says, "That they do. Nice shirts, by the way."
"We've got a few extras. I can't get to any now, but maybe later? After the march, I mean, I've got a bunch at my place." Anissa leaves the offer open-ended. Her eyes hang on Nova's, and her lips nearly pout as she waits for an answer.
But Anissa's from this town where people talk about a superhero like it's nothing. Nova should probably stick to what she knows. Get everything in line with her family. Focus on herself.
"I don't think that's such a good idea." Not that the idea of getting another shirt doesn't have her heart rate spiking already.
Anissa nods, though. "Can't blame a girl for trying, right?" She takes a step closer then, her hand coming out to snag Nova's. "If you ever do make it out here again, we should meet up. We can…" Her sentence trails while her thumb circles Nova's wrist.
"Talk strategy," Nova says. Anissa beams at her. "Maybe, next time."
Anissa lets go and bounces back a step. "I'll hold you to that. Alright, I gotta--" She gestures to the crowd around them before ducking back into it.
Nova watches her go. The tight leggings were definitely a decision made for moments like this. Comfort and solid watchability.
Micah whistles again, lower this time. "You know, a lesser kid would be pretty grossed out right now."
Nova rolls her eyes. "A lesser kid would be back in the hotel room."
His eyebrows pitch up. "But where will you and Anissa go then?"
Nova launches to swat at him, but Micah darts out into the crowd before she can catch him. She'll get the girl later; right now, she's gotta teach Micah about some boundaries.
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a/n: how y’all feeling about this? should there be other crossover moments, whether or not they’re in this !verse?
i just wanna see Charley scream about how Nova inadvertently hurts her
one of the (few) good scenes that could come out of [redacted, finish s2 to read on] and Nova potentially getting together in season three is
a scene where Charley gets to scream and go off about it. because redacted is Remy and her sister getting together behind Charley’s back. foul as fuck.
so I see Charley just roaring from one side of a room to the other. Maybe it’s her office. Who’s she ranting to? Idc. Maybe it’s Davis, because she can’t talk to Vi about it without hearing some placating statement about waiting for all the details, and Charley wouldn’t need the details. She’d need to let it out. She’d need to fume and scream before she winds up charging all the way down to Nova’s and letting her sister have it! (she wouldn’t go to Remy first bc she’s fought with Nova long enough and hard enough to know that yelling with Nova will always get her answers.)
So, Charley, curly hair flying behind her, jaw clamped over her words, heels stabbing into the ground of the office.
"It doesn't make any sense! We-- She had all of the time before I got here to get involved with him, but no! She can't let me have anything. She undermines me with Micah, with Ralph Angel, and now this???"
Remy had been one of the only people here who was hers. Charley’s before they were the family’s. The one to apologize to her for everything that the rest of her family could not even begin to see hurt her. And Nova?
“She doesn’t even want the same things! She doesn’t even want children! Why--" Charley chokes on the rest of the question. "Why her and not me?" If Remy can compromise and change and accept an immutable force, then why couldn’t it have been her?
about: Ralph Angel looks for a familiar face on Blue’s first day of school. Besides Kenya, of course. post-season two. // on ao3
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Somehow, Kenya has aged over the summer. Her hair's more matted than it used to be, and her clothes could use a quick hand wash whenever they could swing it. Of course, Blue hasn't let Kenya go anywhere without him after Darla threw out his old one. So, there she is, aging worse than the rest of the family and on full display in the cup holder.
Ralph Angel eyes her from the driver's seat. Blue kicks his feet back down into the passenger seat with a huff.
“She’s coming with me, Pop.” Blue says it just about as stern as he can. “Kenya wants to see my new class.”
“You haven’t even seen your new class yet, buddy.”
Ralph Angel sighs. “Fine, Blue. Do what you want.” Kids get worse the older they get, and there’s no telling what sort of teacher Blue’s got this year. Ms. Valez used to look out for him. She cared in a way that not everybody does for the quiet, sensitive ones like Blue.
They pull the car up to the school. Blue unfastens his seatbelt immediately. Practically throws himself into the backseat to grab his backpack off the floor. Ralph Angel takes his time and scans the rest of the kids out there.
Zack and Nick, the boys who used to pick on Blue just to pass the time, are already running circles around a yard duty. Some little girls are whispering and showing off their new backpacks and outfits. Blue’s got a new shirt with all the Power Rangers on it. A little bright, but it’s nothing that would draw too much attention to him. Under the radar for the start of the year, and maybe for a long while after.
Blue plucks Kenya out of the cupholder and sticks her into the big pouch of his bag. Baby steps. At least she’s not in the water bottle holder. Blue turns and stares out into the sea too. His jaw sinks back together, and his breathing slows to a stop.
Rah doesn’t want his boy’s nerves to look like fear.
He tugs on a smile and nudges Blue with his arm. “You ready, son?”
Blue nods with his eyes still out on the crowd. He gulps, but then he nods more firmly. “Ready, Pop.”
Ralph Angel leads the way down the hall. A bunch of other parents have their kids with them. Or, maybe it’s the other way around.
Blue’s new classroom winds up being right across from the one from last year. Both Bordelons peek over, but the teacher in that room definitely isn’t Ms. Valez. Some older white lady with a vest straight out of a cartoon greets kids over there.
“Alright, here we are.” Rah nudges Blue again, so Blue steps into the second grade classroom. Some of the other kids are already talking and catching up with their friends. They look up once Blue steps in, but their smiles don’t have that recognition behind them that Rah would’ve liked.
He leans down over Blue to whisper, “Anybody you know?”
Blue shakes his head. “Just Kenya.”
Rah nods. The teacher — this Asian guy — breaks free of another parent to greet them.
“Hello, I’m Mr. Porter, and you must be Blue.” Mr. Porter holds out one thin hand that’s pretty much nothing but bone. Blue takes it with this wonder in his eyes.
“How did you know that?”
Mr. Porter winks down at Blue. “Can’t reveal my secrets on the first day. Hey, why don’t you go take a seat? You can sit anywhere for right now, and we’ll figure out the seating chart once everyone’s here. I’ll chat with your dad a second.”
Blue wavers then. He turns back to Ralph Angel. “You’re picking me up?”
“Yup, right at three. And Aunt Vi’s already thawing some wings for dinner tonight.” Rah ruffles the little fro on Blue’s head. “Now, go on. Let us grown folks talk.”
Blue takes a breath to steel himself. He takes a step forward as he scans the desks. There’s a few empty ones, most of them by friends catching up. But there’s one towards the middle left of the room, an empty seat next to a girl who’s already reading a book instead of talking to anyone. Blue heads over there.
He clears his throat real soft to get her attention and asks if anybody’s sitting there. Real polite. Then he slips on in and unzips his own bag. Ralph Angel’d be lying if he said his heart didn’t clench up. His breath sticks in his chest, and his teeth grind before Blue tugs out a coloring book from the bag. Rah’s chest hikes in relief.
Mr. Porter hums from beside Ralph Angel to bring his attention back.
“Blue will be fine, Mr. Bordelon. His teacher last year, Ms. Valez, already talked to me about how he’s a little quieter than some of the other kids. I’m hoping we can avoid some of the incidents from last year with this batch.”
Incidents like other kids bullying Blue, or incidents like Blue fighting back? Either way, it’s a little early for Ralph Angel to start distrusting anybody. He nods, gives his appreciation.
“Thanks. And you need anything, I work out at my farm. I can usually get away.” That said, if the teacher already knows to look out for Blue, then there shouldn't be much trouble. And, if school's no trouble, then maybe Blue can just learn and be a kid for a bit. Won't have to worry about where his mom's at, or what all he's overhearing about the farm and the mill and the Landrys. This could be good for them.
Blue even tears a page out of his book for the girl sitting next to him.
"I will keep that in mind," Mr. Porter says.
Ralph Angel drums his hands against his jeans a second. There's not much else to say, and Teach probably needs to get ready for what comes next.
"Great. Thank you." Ralph Angel steps back towards the door before he catches himself. “Hey, you get a chance, could you tell Ms. Valez thanks for me too?”
Mr. Porter grins a little too wide at that thought, one of those knowing kind of smiles that has Ralph Angel lifting up his shoulders and straightening out.
"I can. She's also going to be overseeing pick up on Wednesdays and Fridays. Just so you know."
Ralph Angel makes sure not to smile at that. Too wide a smile, and all these teachers gonna think he has a crush or something. "Maybe I'll keep that in mind. Alright, see you at three, Mr. Porter."
He gives one more glance towards Blue. Then to Blue's bag, but he can't see Kenya from where he's at. He just sees another normal kid. His kid, safe.
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a/n: official committee for Ms. Valez to come back for a bit. anybody else wanna join?
inspired by @mssmartbarbie and @shaloved30; though, this pilot moment has no fun shipper stuff.
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"Mom, just tell me what it means.” Micah brings his phone even closer to Charley’s face, even as she closes her eyes. “What could you do for Grandpa that the doctors can’t?”
Charley swats his phone away from her. “Nothing, baby.” She glances beyond him to the 405 outside the car. The ride to LAX isn’t exactly conducive to avoiding a conversation. “Ignore her.”
He groans, his own confusion souring inside of him. “She said, ‘You do what you can do. What only you can do.’"
“I’m tired, Micah.” Charley turns back to her own window. “Ask me later.”
His blood surges in his veins. Picks up as his heart pumps louder. Great, he’s gonna argue.
“I’m sorry, when’s a good time, Mom? Huh? At the airport? Once we land? After Grandpa’s already dead?”
Her teeth ache, and she churns her jaw until the pain subsides. “We are gonna get to him in time. Just.... Ask me later.”
He huffs, but he lets it rest. Unlocks his phone and no doubt texts Nova to tell her all about how unreasonable Charley’s being.
It’s not like it’s an easy conversation to have anyway. How do you tell your son that you’ll definitely outlive him? That you’ll outlive every member of your family? That because of one stupid decision, even what should be the worst day of your life is just another mess to deal with?
Charley slips out her phone then. She angles it so Micah can’t see what she’s typing. Scrolls past all the other wives and reporters messaging her for a response until she finds Violet’s name in her inbox.
To Violet Bordelon
Charley: Stop texting Micah. You’re worrying him. We’ll figure everything out once I get there.
She barely settles her phone back down before it buzzes.
From Violet Bordelon
Violet: Nothing to figure out
Violet: You help him and he sees another day
Violet: Baby, you can turn this curse into a gift
Or she just passes it along.
Charley flips her phone back over. They can talk about it there. There’s plenty of time. There has to be.
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/
Except there isn’t.
Not for Ernest.
Everybody’s faces tell her as much the second she rushes through those doors. A sob rips out of her, and she throws herself at Nova. Falls into arms that haven’t caught her like this since they were little.
Nova hushes her as she cries. Holds her tight enough that she almost misses the glint in Violet’s eyes. The split second of what looks like disgust.
/
/
Later, Violet hmphs into a water bottle outside Daddy’s room. She does it twice before Charley actually glances her way. Violet has a tendency to draw her victims in before attacking them. She pounces so thoroughly, she might as well be the cursed one of them.
“Go on and say it, Aunt Vi.”
Violet shakes her head though. “I don’t have nothing to say. Said it all before you got here.”
Charley shakes her head too. “If you’re going to say something, I would rather you do it now, so maybe the rest of this trip can be simple.”
“Simple?” Violet glances around the hall, but everybody else is off with Blue in the waiting room. The hall’s just Violet and Charley, with Violet’s back right to where her brother is. “You think any part of this is simple? Charley, you say that family is important to you. You say that you care about us even if you can’t always get down here.”
“I do.”
Violet pinches the air. “No, you told me to talk, so you listen. Like I listened when you called me crying that night, you remember?” Because of course, everything goes back to the night Charley turned. “Didn’t ask you any questions, just came to help you. But when I need something, where you at, girl? On the plane, to be here with us? Or out there dealing with your no good husband?”
She couldn’t have known what was happening when she first went to that game. Hadn’t known what was happening when she went to bed. No one had told her anything.
But that’s not what Violet wants to hear.
“I’m sorry,” Charley says. “I got here as soon as I could.”
Violet pulls her arms in tight around her chest. “Charley, you might have all the time in the world, but the rest of us? We’re still on God’s time. Keep up.” She stares at Charley a beat more before just turning and walking down the hall.
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[will probably write more in this !verse, if y’all are interested, because I envision Charley baring her teeth at Nova over “comfort food to people who need comfort!” And we all know Remy wouldn’t take the news well. And a hurt!Micah would definitely lead to Charley wondering if she should be a little more forthcoming with her ‘gift.’]
