LCU, landslide, part 4

November 2083 - LCU, fall semester (part 4 of 4) - Vicky Garth and Summer Phoenix are 19, April Hutchins and Beau Jackson are 20.

* warnings: difficult conversations, and maybe a tissue or two? Soundtrack for all parts, "Landslide," by Fleetwood Mac *

Close your eyes, she tells herself, don't look yet. It's what she tends to do, pretend things aren't really happening. Close your eyes and remember a time when things were simple.

The first thing she remembers is a fall day, seven years ago, playing basketball at the Lake City Community Center with Beau and Tyler, running through the crunchy fallen leaves, a crisp chill in the air. It was soon after she started working at their family's arcade, and their parents brought them all out from the suburbs to hear a concert across the street at the Sound Stage. Instead, Beau and Tyler chased her around the back of the concession stands. They were too old for tag, but those boys, silly as they are, took their sweet time growing up. She liked Beau better, even from the start, with that army-print fisher's hat, and an unspoken gentleness that he never wanted to admit. She always wondered, why should he be so ashamed of it? It was her favorite thing about him. Tyler gave her a bunch of noogies that day, but Beau gave her a kiss.

Of course that isn't the first memory she has of her life, but it's the earliest she can recall when anything ever made sense. It's the most beautiful, the one she wants to stay in, to let linger in permanence. She didn't feel like a child the way they were that day, but they made her feel childlike again. So that day, she began her life, as if she could press a reset button and start over from there, as if all the rest could be lost like an unsaved video game. She really thought that could work. She was barely thirteen years old.

She opens her eyes. The pregnancy test she took is still there on the bathroom sink. The truth has a way of remaining true, of popping back up again no matter how you try to ignore it. The results are just the same as the three tests she took before it. Positive.

And the father? Considering the past few weeks she's had, she doesn't have a goddamn clue. It snuck up on her. It started with one guy, at a bachelor party, in the bathroom, and it came tumbling down from there. Any time she felt sad, or ignored, or alone, there was always someone to pay her attention. Most of them she doesn't have phone numbers or last names for. One of them is her boss, and who he is terrifies her. Surely if he knew, he'd have her taken to some back-alley doctor and taken care of, lucky to make it out with hepatitis at the least. Or maybe he'd just plop her, and her little problem, right into the lake, tied up in a black plastic bag?

But just as likely, it's not him. He's one of many, so many she can't even pinpoint a number. It's much easier for her to say whose it's not.

Beau is awake still, watching some late night animation on cable. She doesn't knock this time, but just slides onto his bed, avoiding his eyes. She misses him desperately. If love were like the whole spectrum of color, he would be every color for her. He always has been. She's scared, and she wants her best friend back. She's confused, and she wants him to tell her what the right answer is.

"I guess I'm pregnant," she says.

He's still. Not moving, not reacting, so still she can't even hear him breathing. "Beau?"

"I heard you," he says. "Am I supposed to be surprised?"

"Maybe not," she says.

"Whose is it?"

She knew he'd ask this question. It seems the most logical next question to ask, and yet it's the one question she has the least definite answer for.

"I get it," he says. "You don't know who your dad is, and now you're knocked up and don't know who the dad is."

"No, you don't get it," she says. "I don't think that's all of it."

She's starting to understand why. As she's growing older, the things that were too scary and confusing to understand before are starting to take shape in her memories.

"I've had to watch it all," he says. In his eyes these past few months, she's only seen anger. But she was wrong. It isn't anger, it's sadness. "And I've had to hear it all," he says. "And what you do to yourself is fucked up."

"It is," she says. "I lied. My first time, it wasn't when I was fifteen. And it wasn't with some guy at a party." She isn't prepared to say any more, but she doesn't need to. He does get it.

She wants to run. She's never said any part of this out loud, and it's hitting her too fast. It's too true. It's too raw, and she doesn't want to feel it. She's wanted to pretend all along that what she does is carefree and fun, but she knows the way she does it is not. The pieces are here, loud and glaring in her face, and she can't push them away. She wants him to look at her the way he did before he saw her wholly. She wants that back again, but it's too late, because he's seen it, and they can't take it back. She bolts for the end of the bed.

He catches her.

She tries to fight it for a moment, but he's stronger. He holds her by the waist, pinning her shoulders to his chest, his cheek to her own, and she can't pretend she isn't broken anymore, and he can't pretend he doesn't know. She stops fighting it, and lets him hold her. She leans back into him, and his arms relax around her. It's been so many months since they even hugged. He holds her, and she cries, and he says, "You're going to be okay."

He holds her here until she stops crying, until they both fall back across the bed and fall asleep. And when she has to get up in the night to pee, he stays awake to wait for her, until she comes back to bed again so he can hold her longer.

She feels like she hasn't slept in years. It could be the pregnancy - she doesn't even have any idea how far along she is. Far enough to feel a twinge of nausea in these early mornings. Not far enough that she's showing any more than a little bloat in her belly. She had been thinking it was food poisoning.

He isn't sleeping. His chest rises and falls steadily, with an occasional sigh. Even with her eyes closed, she can feel the weight of his stare boring through the ceiling.

"You're awake," she says.

"Uh-huh," he says. "Do you need to talk about anything?"

"No," she says. "Not now."

"What if you need to?"

"Like you want to find me a shrink or something?"

"Or maybe if you wanted, you could talk to my mom."

She smiles. "No, not yet."

He sighs, full of defeat. She's scared too, that this is too big and complicated to fix on their own, but this is the only place she knows where to start. First thing, she knows she can't have this baby. Not now. "I'm making an appointment," she says. "I'm not keeping it."

"And then what?"

"And then we have that party you were planning."

He'd been planning this party for weeks, and they both wanted it. It was supposed to be a chance to unwind, to ease this weight they're all feeling, but now it will be different. It won't be a chance to forget, or to slip back into bad habits. This isn't to ignore that some things need to change. This is something of a celebration, for having passed midterms, and that everyone made it through alive.

"I think we need it," she says.

***

In Frosh Hall, Summer has somehow survived two whole months so far living across the hall from Vicky and not beaten her to a pulp. She can't fathom how they'll survive the next seven months before they finish their freshman year.

"So what's with you guys anyway," Summer prods at her. "Is she teaching you how to pick up guys or something?"

"Don't be so selfish," Vicky says. "Don't you know she's pregnant?"

"What, like you know?"

"Yeah, I do, actually," Vicky says. "She told me this afternoon."

Summer seethes at her, these perfect details she always manages to pick out and poke into her - she must know how much she gets under her skin. She isn't sure which to feel more for, Vicky for flaunting it, or because April hadn't told her first. She tried to apologize to Vicky before, tried to make things right, but then Vicky just comes back with another snide remark to piss her off.

Summer feels so pushed aside and forgotten lately. And selfish? Everybody's problems are always more pressing than hers. Selfish? Any time she tries to do something for herself, it just fails and makes things worse. How is she selfish?

"I guess you're going too then," Summer says. "The party, she did tell me about that."

"Sure, I'm going," Vicky says.

"What is your problem exactly?"

"I have no problem," Vicky says, with her nose slung up in the air. "I'm terrific."

"You got everything you ever wanted, didn't you? And now you've got my friends too."

Vicky stops, not quite turning around fully. "No, I didn't get what I wanted," she says. "But I got over it." Then she begins to walk away again, the way she does, so that she can always have the last damn word.

"Well fucking good for you," Summer calls after her.

***

"You'll want a coat," Beau says. "It's cold outside." His hands are warm on her chilled skin. He holds her by the shoulders, as if holding her up.

"Don't look at me like that," April says.

"Like what?"

"Like I'm dying," she says. "I'm not dying, just knocked up a little."

"You could end up dead," he says. "The way you act sometimes. It scares me."

In her head, there's a reflex to make everything funny, to twist it around until it's laughable. Because when she stops to think about it, some of the things she's done were reckless, and really very stupid. "It won't be like that anymore," she says. "I promise."

Sometimes she's such a wreck that she wonders if she could even stand if he weren't there to hold her up. She tucks her face into this warm space of skin between his throat and that ratty old green sweatshirt, where she can feel his pulse slow and steady on her lips. This might be the safest place she'll ever know.

Downstairs, people are already starting to gather in the courtyard. They've brought beer, and cleared a fire pit in the courtyard for a bonfire. Vicky is already here meeting some of their neighbors, and Beau and April stand by the fire with beer in hand when Summer arrives. The night is crisp and clear, the way a chill in the air only brightens the sky. Summer sees stars overhead and she always thinks of Tyler.

Beau nods a "hello" to her.

She comes up behind April, who's holding a bottle of beer but barely sipping it. Summer says, "That doesn't seem like the best idea, given your current condition."

"I have an appointment next week," April says. "I'm not keeping it. Go on, judge me if you want."

Summer shakes her head. "I can't believe you told Vicky first," Summer says.

"I actually told Beau first, if you want to know the truth. And then, Vicky's just been around more lately."

It feels like an accusation, though she doesn't know if that's how April meant it. "I'm sorry," Summer says anyway.

Everyone did okay on midterms, except Summer's performance was less than impressive. She really doesn't like what she's studying. She hasn't done this badly in a long time. Even after her mom died, especially after her mom died, she buckled down and did well - she didn't want to worry anyone with bad grades.

She got a C in Intro to Business Management.

Beau says, "A C's not bad. I get C's all the time."

Everyone else seems to be figuring it out. Even Vicky is here, talking to some guys, having some fun. The day Vicky Garth is no longer ridden with angst is a milestone.

Everyone is moving on, or figuring it out, or just plain gone. Tyler is gone. Lucy isn't here because it's a Thursday night and she has high school in the morning. Dallas is gone. April is gone most of the time.

Everything she thinks points towards guilt. If she hadn't screwed everything up, Tyler would still be in college and safe. And she doesn't know if she wants to run her mother's shop for her whole life. There are so many other things to do in the world. She's in college, and the opportunities are endless and yet she isn't free to explore any of them. Everyone she ever cared about is figuring things out, and moving on, and all she has are these illusions she's built up her life around. She takes them down, and she's only left living in the shadow of her mother like a ghost.

April comes to sit down next to her at the fire. She and April both have their own issues, Summer knows this. A troubled girl knows another troubled girl when she sees one, even if the exact details aren't shared. It's how they relate to each other, but at the same time, it's the reason they sometimes can't reach each other.

"How can you stand it?" Summer asks her. "Walking around all the time like there's nothing wrong?"

"Because this is not the worst thing to ever happen to me," April says. "It kind of makes you see the big picture."

Summer nods, once, surely.

"We're going to be okay," April says. "All of us."

***

Report Cards for 2083, Fall

Fenton, sophomore, undecided, B-
Iris, sophomore, history (art history), A+
April, sophomore, arts (culinary arts), B+
Beau, sophomore, economics (small business), A+
Dallas, freshman, physics (aerospace engineering), A+
Summer, freshman, economics (small business), C+
Vicky, freshman, biology (pre-med), A+

*******

(footnotes: part 1, part 2, part 3, part 3.5 // what Beau has seen)

notes: oh, too much going on this week! I hope this didn't feel too rough. I wanted to polish it a bit more, but I ran out of time.

Storytelling trick - free will off > have them sit down in chairs, cancel, and let them keep talking with their queues empty > then pose them how you like > then once they're posed, they'll continue talking, facial expressions unless you've used an overlay, and turning their heads to look at each other.

I hope y'all liked the pictures, because dammit, they took me FOREVER to get, and then to photoshop, lol! But bed pictures are always a pain in the ass. I used the angled OMSPs for the first time, linked in the sidebar. Tricky, tricky! In the bed picture where they're laying, April is in about six different poses, a face overlay, and two different angled OMSPs! That one single picture took me seriously 45 minutes to figure out, lol! Why, I might ask myself, what's the big deal? Don't I have better things to do? Yes, I have quite a bit else to do, but I find this stuff kind of fun, you know, getting just that one perfect shot, just how I see it in my imagination. :)

Then at the bonfire, I decided that Summer had to have a jacket on over her regular dress. That actually wasn't so hard to do, since I just spliced two different pictures together.

So just humor me, lol! ;)