"Hey peeps." he announced, entering his cabin and shutting the door behind him.
Dave was laying across the enormous bed he shared with Clint. He was flipping through a magazine in his red boxers with little white flowers on them. Clint was sitting in the corner with his lab-top, surfing the net. Neither one said anything in return to their fellow triplet's salutation.
"Isn't it kinda cold to be walking around like that?" Bob asked Dave as he thumped down on his own bed, lacing his fingers behind his head.
"He hasn't even gotten up yet." Clint mentioned. "He's such a lazy bum."
"Am not!" Dave exclaimed, looking over the top of his magazine. "I'm NOT lazy!!!"
"You are too!" Clint giggled. "Your picture should be on lazy-bums dot-com!!!" he broke into a fit of shrill giggles. "LAZY!"
"Shut up!" Dave threw his magazine at his brother's head.
Clint was able to swat it our of mid-air, batting it to the floor. "Lazy!" he shouted in retaliation.
"So are you three or are you four?" Bob asked.
"Fifteen." his brothers replied in unison, obviously not getting the joke.
Bob just rolled his eyes. "Where's Scott?" he asked, thinking of his eldest brother that had taken to moping around the ship every chance he got.
"The usual." Dave replied, his playful mood dissolving. He felt incredibly sad that he had hurt his brother, seeing just what it was doing to him. Now he was torn. Part of his felt justified by his actions, while the other part felt miserable. He and Scott had never really gotten along to begin with, but this was just fueling that estrangement even more.
"Down in the gallery?" Bob asked, frowning.
"Yeah."
"I wish he would cheer up." Clint commented, suddenly engrossed on whatever he was doing on his personal computer.
"How can you expect him to. He lost all he ever really felt he had." Bob pointed out. "You know how he always felt kinda... left out. He was always kinda insecure, what with him and Dad fighting every other minute. And then we were always so close... Then all those girls he would mess around with to boost his ego... But when Angie came along, it was like everything was right with him. He was actually bearable for long periods of time. He was the way he had been before he got all... precarious. And now I bet he's slipping back into that. I can only imagine."
"Gee Bob." Dave said glumly. "You sure know how to make me feel like shit."
"Oh, I'm sorry!" Bob said quickly. "I didn't mean to make it seem like it was your fault, because it really wasn't. You were just the messenger. Either way she would have found out."
"Yeah..." Dave shrugged.
Bob knew his brother still felt responsible for Scott's depression.
"I wish there was something I could do." Dave continued without warning.
"You?" Clint asked. "Haven't you done enough? No offense but..."
"I know, I know." Dave cut him off. "But I want to get them back together. I want to make it all better."
"You can't." Bob said gently, sitting up in bed and starting to take off his heavy shoes. "Only Scott can make it all better again. It was his mistake, his mess. He has to clean it up."
"I know but..."
"Dave," Clint interrupted, still fixated on the screen. "Maybe you could help by not being so LAZY!!!!"
"Shut up Clint!" Dave exclaimed, lunging off the bed and attacking his triplet.
Bob chuckled. "Lemme check my mail Clint."
"Go ahead!" Bob's twin's voice was muffled by Dave's armpit, as the younger boy held him in a head lock.
Bob was careful to step over the two, making his way to the labtop.
* * *
The air in the gallery of the ship was slightly chilly, provoking Scott to hold his sweater tighter around his body. He passed by a young woman with a little girl. The little girl had big brown eyes. Those eyes reminded him of Angela.
"Good day." the woman greeted cheerily. She had a British accent.
"Hey." Scott mumbled, trying to match her smile but winding up looking as if he were grimacing.
The little girl's eyes followed him until she was too far to look backwards. Scott sighed. It seemed as if everything he saw reminded him of Angela. She was all he could think about. He wandered in the gallery day in day out, thinking about her. He had e-mailed her twelve times, telling her how much he loved her and how much he missed her and how much he thought of her, but he had gotten not one response. The times he wasn't in the gallery or on the deck, he was in bed, either sleeping or staring at the bright, white wall. His father was still convinced he was sick.
The boys had flown down to Nashville where their mother still resided. They spent Christmas with her. Scott's Christmas was spent in eternal sadness. The new year swept in the night before and he drank the night away in the loneliness of his room, vomiting and falling asleep in it. He always found a way to screw his life up more often than not. And all of his issues were self inflicted. However, the new year meant going back home. They'd be returning home in a matter of a day. He'd have to face her. But how would he be able to face her when she didn't even want anything to do with him? He had been procrastinating enough. He had to think of a plan.
His train of thought led him absentmindedly into the bookstore where he found himself scanning the racks of paperback novels. His brown cardigan still didn't seem to be enough, even over the black turtleneck he wore. It seemed like an eternal cold cloud had settled over him and he was destined to be freezing until he got his angel back.
Snapping out of his daze, he realized that he had subconsciously plucked a book off the shelf. He turned it over in his hands. A Tale of Two Cities by Charles Dickens. Feeling a sharp pain in his chest, he remembered the time Angela had raved to him about the book. She had said it was her favorite. He, himself, had never read it.
Not even pausing to premeditate his actions, Scott carried the book to the register and paid for it, leaving the store to go out on deck. He liked to spend time on deck. He liked to look at the South Atlantic sky. It was almost as grey as his mood...
* * *
The shelves of the drug store seemed to be a blur as she walked down isle four, running her finger on the rim. The speakers played an old song by Crowded House. She recognized that song, the lyrics instilled in her mind from when her mother would have it playing in the car. But what was the title? She couldn't recall ever knowing it. Scott had been playing it once in his room. She was dating Clint then. She had gone into Scott's room and sat with him, singing along softly as they both just felt the music. He said he loved the song. He had told her the title, but she couldn't remember. What was the title?
"Kelly!" her cousin called from a few paces ahead. "What are you doing? I told you to meet me in isle seven." Jeanine reminded her. "You're so absent minded lately." She instantly regretted saying those words.
Don't Dream It's Over. "I'm sorry." Kelly sighed, quickening her steps.
"You okay?" Jeanine asked gently, sympathizing with her friend's situation.
Kelly nodded silently, trying to avoid the tears she knew were inevitably going to come. Jeanine wrapped her comforting arms around the other girl's shoulders.
"Sorry for being such a bitch." she cooed. "I forgot about it."
Kelly shook free from her grasp. "No Jen, that's not it." she whispered, swiping at the warm tears that had been rolling down her cheeks.
Jeanine patted Kelly's shoulders. She was deeply concerned for her cousin. After the rape, she hadn't been the same. She was highly emotional and preferred to be alone most of the time. Infact, it was a surprise that she had agreed to come to the store with her that day.
"I don't want to talk about it." she whispered.
Jeanine nodded slowly. "Okay Kelly. We don't have to." she soothed, slipping her hand into that of the other girl. "We can go home in a few. I just have to get something."
Kelly nodded, drying her eyes thoroughly with her free wrist. She followed Jeanine back to isle seven. "What're we getting?" she asked, trying to put the memories that had come flowing into her mind back to where they were stored.
"Tampons." Jeanine replied nonchalantly. "Chris used all my regulars. The dumb bitch always has her dirty-whore hands on my stuff!" she continued. "I mean, the other day I caught her wearing my shirt! You've seen her tits; they're huge! She stretches my clothes out all the time and it's so damn annoying! She can't keep her bitch-claws off my shit!!!"
Kelly tuned her cousin out, focusing on a box of maxi's in front of her. She carefully removed it from the shelf, turning it over in her hands. Jeanine didn't notice this display, continuing to rant and rave about her older sister's intense bitchiness. However, her attention was seized when her best friend began to cry harder than before.
"What's the matter Kelly?" she asked, her arms once again holding onto her best friend as she sobbed. She expressed nothing but severe concern, especially since Kelly had broken down and sobbed after seeing a McDonald’s commercial. "Are you okay hon?"
Kelly sank to her knees right in the middle of the isle, bawling into her hands while kneeling on the thin carpeting.
"Kelly..." Jeanine coaxed. "Tell me what's going on. Please!" she begged, feeling frustrated that her cousin was falling apart and she couldn't do anything about it. She swore in silence that she would kill Trevor the next time she saw him. He had torn her friend into pieces and he would have to pay.
Her cousin looked up at her through two bloodshot, hazel eyes. "I haven't gotten my period." she whispered.
"Yeah you have Kels." Jeanine coaxed. "Remember when we were twelve and you got it the week after me! And you even showed me..."
"No, Jeanine." Kelly interrupted. "I'm late." she explained.
Pure horror washed over Jeanine, knowing exactly what those two words meant.
"I've been on schedule for all three and a half years and now I'm late!" She began to sob again, this time she tucked her knees up under her chin.
"Wh--- Oh my--- Kelly, do you--- How late are you?" Jeanine stammered, standing up and beginning to pace furiously.
"Three weeks." she whimpered, her body racking with sobs.
"Shit!" Jeanine grabbed clots of her hair, messing up her ponytail. "You need to get tested to see if you're p-- preg..." she couldn't even say the word.
"No!" Kelly screamed, causing a few patrons to stare. "No! I won't!" she continued defiantly. "I'm not going to Jeanine!"
"But Kelly, you could be... you know. What if you are?" her cousin tried her best to be the voice of reason when she actually didn't know what to do.
"Then I'll kill it!" the irrational girl spat. "I don't want any part of him in me! He raped me! He RAPED me! And now he's home free!" she stumbled to her feet. "He gets to walk free after what he did! All because his dad has Sunday night cocktails with some important people!! It's not fair! It's not FAIR!!!" she screamed, not caring about the old woman with the large French bread hanging out of her basket, or the tall and skinny manager approaching with a look of disdain on his face.
She sniffed back all the matter in her nose, gasping for air afterwards. She shook her hand free of the sleeve on Clint's grey North Face jacket, using her knuckle to wipe the excess snot that had accumulated above her lip.
Jeanine's heart lurched out of her chest for her best friend. She wished she weren't so insignificant. She wished she could do something. She reached out a supportive hand, wishing it could heal, wishing it could make things better.
"No!" Kelly shouted. "NO!"
"Kelly..." her cousin cooed, touching her with that hand.
"NO!" Kelly shook free of it. "I said no! I SAID NO!" she screamed.
Jeanine backed away, not sure if she was talking to her or subconsciously to Trevor.
"Miss, I'm going to have to ask you to leave." the manager said quietly.
"You don't have to ask me, I was just leaving." Kelly muttered, running for the door which was clear across the brightly lit drug store.
Jeanine glanced back at the box of tampons she was supposed to be purchasing. Realizing that Kelly needed her more, she raced after her friend, not wanting her to get too far.
When she escaped into the very cold late afternoon, she was shocked to see her cousin sitting across the street on a bench in front of the bookstore. Her knees were tucked up on the seat in front of her, under her chin. She had calmed down dramatically, but Jen still approached with caution.
"Kelly..." she whispered. "Can I sit with you? Please?" she asked gently, wishing she weren't with just a flimsy jacket in the middle of a cold and desolate street.
Kelly nodded.
And so Jeanine sat. They sat for a long period of time, just watching the air blow past. It was freezing. Jen tucked her hands in her sleeves, wrapping her arms around her body. Kelly just sat.
It began to snow a long time later, the big clots of white, icy water fluttering down to the pavement and melting at first. As the snow continued out of the sky, the white began to stick against the black tarmac, creating a thin sheet. The slowly falling snow was in an opaque layer before movement occurred on that bench. Kelly shifted, changing her position, and laying her head down on her cousin's shoulder.
"I love you Jeanine." she sighed.
Jeanine snaked an arm around her shoulders. "I love you too Kelly." she said sincerely. "And mark my word, we won't give up. Trevor will pay, even if it means were key his car."
Kelly snorted a laugh.
Then Jeanine said four words she would always remember. "Everything will be okay."
* * *
Scott's nose had long since become a bright shade of pink, as had his cheeks. But his legs remained warm, tucked under the thick wool blanket. The deck was completely deserted and he was curled up on a lounge chair, not able to put his new novel down. For that reason, he didn't notice his father approach and sit down beside him on the other chair.
"Can I have a few words with you Scott?" Frank asked gently, sympathizing with his son's condition.
"How many's a few?" Scott asked, not looking up.
"Please don't be difficult Scott."
"Let me finish the page."
Frank waited patiently, looking over the Atlantic. The ocean was so gorgeous and he knew that even when they went back home the next day, he'd never be able to get that smell of the fresh salt air out of his nose. Moments passed and he realized that Scott was still reading. He figured his son either had a literacy issue or was ignoring him. His speculation was confirmed when Scott turned the page.
"Scott, you said a page." Frank reminded him.
"Did I?" Scott asked blandly.
Frank too the book out of his son's hands, dog-earing the page and setting in on his own lap. "Let's chat."
"No thanks." Scott responded, laying back and looking out into the horizon. He began to notice just how cold his features were. He felt frozen and stiff, mixed with empty and hallow.
"Fine." Frank gave up, slapping his hands against his lap before standing up. "Obviously she means nothing to you because you don't seem to be hurting..." he hypothesized, heading for the gallery.
"You don't know anything about it Dad." Scott spat, feeling pent up emotions begin to rise to the surface. "So don't even begin to make your little assumptions." his voice wavered unsteadily with emotion.
Frank was silent, knowing his son was correct. There was a long gap where Scott just stared out into the horizon, wondering what it had in store for him. Frank was on the verge of continuing for the gallery when the only other person on the deck spoke.
"She was... my world. And still is." The words began to flow before he would catch them.
Frank slowly returned to the other lounge chair, listening intently. He was shocked how easily Scott was avowing all of this information to him. But he remained silent, hoping the chain of speech wouldn't end.
"I mean... she was like... when you're walking alone down a street in dreary London." he paused for a long time.
Frank waited patiently.
"... and there are rain puddles in between the cobblestones... the sky is so grey..." he closed his eyes, feeling the words, visualizing them. "Everything is so... so... sad. So blah, so... gloomy." the tears began, stinging his face in the icy air. "and suddenly... suddenly a flock of black birds take flight from where they were aimlessly ambling by a fountain. They fly... so perfectly, in such uniform... like they automatically knew where they belonged in the group. And in a mass, they move across the sky, and you can only stare, dumfounded at how they can work together to make a perfect arc against the grey clouds..." his eyes squinted as the horizon became blurred with his tears. "You watch as they fly out of your view... but you wish they could stay forever... because it's all so beautiful." he sniffed. "And when it's gone... you return to the dreary day... empty again."
Frank just studied his son's face, realizing for the first time just how deeply he felt about his girlfriend. He never really knew that two of such a young age could posses such emotion some adults never even experience. He felt for Scott, understanding what he was going through.
"She's that stability in my life." Scott continued. "She's that togetherness... but it seems like the birds have flown away..."
"No Scott... just hang in there." Frank spoke, laying a hand on his son's arm.
Scott looked at him in surprise, as if he wasn't aware his father had been sitting there the whole time.
"Don't dream it's over." Frank advised.
"But what if it is?" Scott choked, oddly confiding in his dad. "What if she's gone? I love her Dad... I honestly do."
Frank swallowed thickly. "You made a mistake Scott. You made a big mistake... but it'll work itself out." he promised. "You and Angela will be together forever."
"But she's gone..." Scott sniffled, finding himself crying more openly.
Frank clutched the side of his face. "She's not gone." he said firmly.
Scott sobbed, shaking his head. "Yes she is!" he whimpered.
Frank shook his head in opposition. "No, she's not."
Scott placed a hand on his father's that rested on his cheek. "How do you know?"
"Because." Frank said firmly. "Birds fly south for the winter, right?" he asked.
Scott nodded, miserable, as he had no idea what his father was talking about.
"But they always find their way back home."
* * *
"This. Sucks. A lot. Of. Ass." Bob droned, adding a new word each time his tennis ball his the floor. "And. I. Am. So. Fuck. Ing. Bored."
"Shut the hell up!" Clint exclaimed, grinning. "You are pathetic."
"I'm bored." Bob informed him.
"Word up?" Clint asked. "You know, I didn't gather that from your continuous bitching about it."
"Word up Clint?" Dave asked, still laying on the bed in his underwear. "Word up? Wow. And you say Bob's pathetic."
"Well sooooorrryyy Dave. You should SO give me lessons on how to be cool." Clint shot back. "Tell me that part about... Kenny G again?"
"Okay, that's fresh off of Clueless Dick-shit." Bob informed his brother.
"Is it really? I hadn't noticed after you watched that movie NINE TIMES LAST NIGHT!!!"
"I was bored." Bob defended, abandoning his tennis ball in the middle of the floor. He flopped down on the bed beside Dave and laid his head on his triplet's bare stomach.
"Hey! Pick that up!" Clint ordered, having no tolerance for clutter.
"Nope." Bob said nonchalantly.
"Pick it up!" Clint snapped again, looking up from his lab-top this time.
"No!" Bob said again. "Besides, it looks good there."
"Yeah! Maybe we can put it BACK there when the paramedics detach it from your COLON!!!!" Clint shouted. "I SAID pick it up!!!"
"Temper, temper." Bob grinned, getting up and snatching his tennis ball from the floor. He reclaimed his spot on Dave's stomach.
Clint nodded satisfied. "That's what I thought." he muttered, going back to his computer work. He was playing tetris and was on the verge of making a perfect set, a rarely achieved feat.
Moments later, the tennis ball sailed across the room and landed him right on the head, breaking his concentration and thus making him loose the game.
"YOU'RE DEAD BOB!!!" he shouted, jumping up and running for his identical brother.
* * *
Timber stepped out of her shower, feeling refreshed and energized. Her family had all been under the same roof for a full three weeks. That was three weeks too long. She was so used to having the house to herself, now it seemed like pure chaos.
"TIMMY!!!" Chandler crooned from outside the door. "I'm borrowing your Dave Matthews CD!!"
"No you're not!" she called back.
"Yeah I am!" he snorted.
She hastily grabbed a towel, wrapping it around her body then flinging open the door. "Reach for my DMB CD and pull back a nub." she threatened.
"Yoink!" he grinned, yanking it off the shelf.
"Put that back!" she exclaimed, stabbing a warning finger at him.
"No can do, Stupid." he said with mock begrudgement. "Left mine at school." he walked towards the bathroom, inhaling the hot steam flowing from it. "Whoa damn. It smells like the state of Georgia in there. What the hell is with all that peach shit you girls use?" he muttered heading for the door.
"You've got one hour with that CD." she warned.
"Yeah yeah." he mocked. "By the way, the basement looks like a trashy disco." her twenty year old brother commented.
"So it suits you perfect." she quipped.
"Ha ha ha." he said dryly. "Why don't you go suck face with that kid across the street?" he snickered.
"What?!" she demanded, wondering how he had found out about the Moffatts. She had managed to keep it a secret, knowing her older brother would have no mercy in teasing her about it.
"What's his name? Bob?" Chandler snickered. "Tim, I'll say this once. I don't want any snot-faced boys around here."
"Shut up." she rolled her eyes, going back into the bathroom for lotion.
"I'm not kidding! Mom told me the whole story!" he continued. "What the hell are you sleeping in the same bed with him?"
Timber closed the door to the bathroom, him on the other side.
"What the hell is that? Back in my day, people only slept in the bed for one reason, and if I find out that's your reason, I'm cutting off both your legs."
Timber flung open the door. "First off," she began. "I'm thirteen, your twenty. 'Your day' wasn't that long ago you idiot. Second off, Bob is my best friend, it's like... you and Deagan sleeping in the same bed." she continued, referring to her brother's roommate.
"And that would never happen!" Chandler clarified. "We don't swing from that branch."
"Whatever." Timber rolled her eyes. "You haven't even met Bob, and you aren't going to because you already have the way wrong idea."
"That you're sleeping with some guy!!!" Chandler exclaimed.
"I am not sleeping with him! I'm sleeping with him, but not sleeping with him. He has a girlfriend for Christ's sake! Damn, I must have gotten all the brains around here!" it hurt her to have to speak of Bob as if she didn't care about him the way she truly did. Just thinking about him made her smile.
"Well we'll see. I'm going to stick around another week and meet this fellow." he grinned tauntingly.
"Why?" Timber wrinkled her nose.
"So I can break both his legs personally!" Chandler announced, heading out the door. "He comes back tomorrow, doesn't he? Well, I'll be waiting." he said draconianly.
Timber rolled her eyes, shutting the door to the bathroom. Chandler had never, ever taken an interest in her life. Though now she feared for Bob's safety, she was still oddly pleased that he seemed to care so much.
A few minutes later, as she emerged from her bathroom a final time. She could hear the strains of Dave Matthews coming from down the hall. Shaking her head, Timber vaguely wondered what it would be like if her family was always under one roof. Things would be so much different. Part of her wished it could always be like this; eating dinner together, coexisting together... But she knew once Chandler went back to school, her parents would resume their work. It was funny how they always seemed to make time to be home when it was him, but when it was just her, they were missing in action. That tugged at her gut, giving her an uneasy feeling. She didn't like the fact that she was so unimportant to them. But she had said it before: her friends were her family. They were the only ones she had, the only ones she needed. With a little help from her friends, she would be okay.
* * *
Night had fallen and Scott still wandered the decks and passages like a ghost. It seemed at times he was strong. At times he was so determined to get Angela back... But then came the times when he felt like he would never see her again. He would never feel her touch, or her kiss. That hurt his heart.
The stars studded the clear, dark blue sky. Frigid winds blew the clouds across the picture, wispy and dark grey, barely noticeable to the untrained eye. One star was brighter than the others in the multitude. He assumed it was the north star. His trembling finger made it's way across his vision, as if he were embracing it. He imagined what it felt like... a hunk of cold silver, heavy against his palm. Oddly enough, he felt as if Angela were with him...
Thousands of miles away, the object of his direct thought sat out in the cold of the lookout, studying the same sky. Her unruly curls were fluttering in the wind. The sun was setting and the stars were beginning to come out. She enjoyed being alone these days, only growing more and more miserable. Why hadn't she called him? Why hadn't she run into his arms right away? At the time, she wanted him to feel as miserable as she had when she found out what he had done. At the time, she wanted nothing more than to hold his heart in her hands and squeeze it until he was numb and all the blood had run out. She wanted it to beat no longer. She wanted him to keel over and stop breathing. That was precisely how she felt and she wished all of that upon him.
But three weeks later, without her daily dose of him, she felt empty. She felt hallow. She felt worse. She had read his note what seemed like a thousand times but was probably more. She had memorized everything about it, every word, every slight smear in the black ink he had used. Every abnormal curl in the way he wrote his S's... She loved him. There was no way around it. She loved him and she couldn't make herself stop. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn't make herself stop loving him.
Then she realized that she did not want him to suffer. All she wanted was to be with him again. But how could she go back to him after what he had done? It was all too confusing. In the midst of her deep thoughts, the stars now twinkled in the sky like diamonds. The moon was a glowing sphere, golden and magical. Then there was that star that was unknowingly being watched by the one she wished would come back to her. Instictively, she reached out to it, squeezing her eyes shut... And she felt his kiss.
* * *