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At first, Rebecca just assumes that Kate hasn't been returning her texts. Which is fine, Kate seems to be leading a pretty happy life and she has a husband and a bunch of other people to worry about. Rebecca chooses not to push and send any more texts than one or so a day, but before she knows it it's been something like a week without a response.
And she starts to worry.
If Kate had a problem with her, she'd just say it to Rebecca's face. She's not the kind of person to hide behind technology and pretend like everything's fine. So, out of fear that maybe everything's not, Rebecca does something rare in this day and age: she makes a phone call.
...and the response is a dead line.
She's heard about this and she knows what it means. Maybe she and Kate weren't super incredible best friends forever, but they were close and Kate had been Rebecca's best friend here. Kate was also the first person to befriend her here – more than that, she'd taken care of Rebecca at one of the worst moments in her entire life. And then she'd been there again and again.
And now she's gone.
They all leave.
Without Kate to call or text or Dr Akopian or Paula, Rebecca does the thing she's been telling herself not to do with each blow that Darrow has sent her way. She goes to a bar. A really, fancy and anachronistic bar that she hopes serves anything fruity with a shot of vodka.
Heading straight over to the bartender, she's momentarily taken aback by the fact she's looking at someone she knows. Marius.
On a day when she's lost a friend, she finds herself reminded that she has another.
"Hey."
And she starts to worry.
If Kate had a problem with her, she'd just say it to Rebecca's face. She's not the kind of person to hide behind technology and pretend like everything's fine. So, out of fear that maybe everything's not, Rebecca does something rare in this day and age: she makes a phone call.
...and the response is a dead line.
She's heard about this and she knows what it means. Maybe she and Kate weren't super incredible best friends forever, but they were close and Kate had been Rebecca's best friend here. Kate was also the first person to befriend her here – more than that, she'd taken care of Rebecca at one of the worst moments in her entire life. And then she'd been there again and again.
And now she's gone.
They all leave.
Without Kate to call or text or Dr Akopian or Paula, Rebecca does the thing she's been telling herself not to do with each blow that Darrow has sent her way. She goes to a bar. A really, fancy and anachronistic bar that she hopes serves anything fruity with a shot of vodka.
Heading straight over to the bartender, she's momentarily taken aback by the fact she's looking at someone she knows. Marius.
On a day when she's lost a friend, she finds herself reminded that she has another.
"Hey."
Rebecca's suffering a classic case of the sneaky hate spiral. After meeting Eden and realizing that there are people who have, well, realized their dreams while she pushed hers away like it was of the fever kind, she doesn't know what to do with her life.
Not that that's a new thing for her.
She'd spent literal years convinced that being a lawyer was the best thing for her, so much so that she became really good at it. She went to the best of the best schools (and the second best when she was kicked out of the best), she worked with prestigious firms until it all fell to pieces with three, sing-song words: Joshua Felix Chan.
Here, she can't blame him for her distraction from the task at hand – the task at hand being a mature adult person who goes to work from 9 to 5 and doesn't cry herself to sleep at night. But there is the distraction of the fact she's in a fucking alternate dimension where weird shit like drastic climate change and toys that try to kill people is the norm. So instead of working her way up the legal ladder all over again, she spends her day staring out at the window and imagining she's anywhere else.
Almost anywhere else.
Not, like, a psychiatrist's office.
Like the one she's staring at the brochure right now in some fancy mental health clinic.
Like the one that's in her hand as she runs out of the clinic and down the path, not yet having thrown it out before she's colliding with a stranger. An almost stranger. The guy who had witnessed her musical meltdown not that long ago.
"Why does this keep happening to me?"
Not that that's a new thing for her.
She'd spent literal years convinced that being a lawyer was the best thing for her, so much so that she became really good at it. She went to the best of the best schools (and the second best when she was kicked out of the best), she worked with prestigious firms until it all fell to pieces with three, sing-song words: Joshua Felix Chan.
Here, she can't blame him for her distraction from the task at hand – the task at hand being a mature adult person who goes to work from 9 to 5 and doesn't cry herself to sleep at night. But there is the distraction of the fact she's in a fucking alternate dimension where weird shit like drastic climate change and toys that try to kill people is the norm. So instead of working her way up the legal ladder all over again, she spends her day staring out at the window and imagining she's anywhere else.
Almost anywhere else.
Not, like, a psychiatrist's office.
Like the one she's staring at the brochure right now in some fancy mental health clinic.
Like the one that's in her hand as she runs out of the clinic and down the path, not yet having thrown it out before she's colliding with a stranger. An almost stranger. The guy who had witnessed her musical meltdown not that long ago.
"Why does this keep happening to me?"
Did Josh Just Literally Leap at Faith?
Feb. 25th, 2017 11:46 amThey all leave.
If Rebecca were to analyze the situation in all the ways Dr Akopian wishes she would, it's no surprise that she's here. After all, her mother isn't. And as much as she resents that strange, spiteful woman, it's a fact that Naomi Bunch had stood by her when no one else had. When her father had left, when she'd failed an exam or, yes, burned down an apartment, she'd never truly been alone.
But right now, standing here in this ridiculous dress while dozens of people gawk at the worst moment of her life, she feels alone. And so heavy, like she could take a dive right off this cliff into the rocky seas below if a breeze were to just drift on by.
She sings to herself all day.
She won't get to dance with her father today. Really, it was always going to be too good to be true. He was the knight in shining armour as long as he was kept at a distance, the closer he got the more she'd see the flaws in the metal. The fingerprints all over, the lazily soldered seams.
It's my fault they don't love me.
She's the common denominator. Her father, Josh, Greg. Robert. How did she expect to survive all of these months in West Covina without him coming up? Especially after the whole arson deal which––
(Actually, that time it wasn't her fault. For once, she was trying to bury her past. It's not her fault that it insisted on coming back in literal flames. She can't be blamed for everything, can she?)
It's my fault they don't love me.
So much for starting fresh. So much for being a hero in her own story.
Tearing her eyes away from the rocky below, Rebecca glances back at the gathering. Her wedding guests. Paula, Valencia, Heather, Nathaniel. Then her father. The shame in his eyes.
He'd only wanted money.
The thought of that somehow forces a laughter to bubble up in Rebecca's throat and she turns to look back out at the horizon again when she sees it's shifted. It's lighter, somehow, and she's not up so high.
It's happening again.
It's my fault they don't love me.
If Rebecca were to analyze the situation in all the ways Dr Akopian wishes she would, it's no surprise that she's here. After all, her mother isn't. And as much as she resents that strange, spiteful woman, it's a fact that Naomi Bunch had stood by her when no one else had. When her father had left, when she'd failed an exam or, yes, burned down an apartment, she'd never truly been alone.
But right now, standing here in this ridiculous dress while dozens of people gawk at the worst moment of her life, she feels alone. And so heavy, like she could take a dive right off this cliff into the rocky seas below if a breeze were to just drift on by.
She sings to herself all day.
It's my fault they don't love me.
She's the common denominator. Her father, Josh, Greg. Robert. How did she expect to survive all of these months in West Covina without him coming up? Especially after the whole arson deal which––
(Actually, that time it wasn't her fault. For once, she was trying to bury her past. It's not her fault that it insisted on coming back in literal flames. She can't be blamed for everything, can she?)
It's my fault they don't love me.
So much for starting fresh. So much for being a hero in her own story.
Tearing her eyes away from the rocky below, Rebecca glances back at the gathering. Her wedding guests. Paula, Valencia, Heather, Nathaniel. Then her father. The shame in his eyes.
He'd only wanted money.
The thought of that somehow forces a laughter to bubble up in Rebecca's throat and she turns to look back out at the horizon again when she sees it's shifted. It's lighter, somehow, and she's not up so high.
It's happening again.
It's my fault they don't love me.
