Hello everyone! This is a story I've been working on called "A Story About Grownups" I've been working on it for a while, and have the three introduction chapters complete, and I'll be releasing them one at a time gradually, as I continue typing the rest of the chapters. A lot of the parts are non-linear, in that a lot of things will be a bit vague, but then will get explained soon enough as the characters' lives are explored and the story progresses. There's lots of flashbacks and flashforwards too, so another thing to keep in mind!
I will admit, the narrative style of the first three chapters is really uneven, and it bugs me, and I'm sorry if it bugs anyone else too! It'll be more even as it progresses, I promise. I'm just trying not to give too much of the characters away so early.
Summary: Three friends, a writer, a believer, and an artist face the struggles and stresses of adulthood and when reunited, lend advice and support to each other.
Characters: Lars, Sadie, Ronaldo, Steven, Peedee, Amethyst, a few original characters and cameos by other characters
Warnings: Mentions of mental illness, smaller mentions of attempted suicide in later chapters, alcoholism, and anger management issues. Also probably some sexual situations in later chapters.
Soooo anyway, here we go! Enjoy!
"Steven Quartz Universe, are you prepared to abide by the oath by which you have sworn?", boomed Lars theatrically as he stood atop a chair.
"I am," the boy spoke with utmost seriousness, kneeling in front of the other, opening his eyes momentarily to see his reflection in the glossy tile floor, and silently tell himself to keep a straight face.
"Do you solemnly vow to uphold the righteous standards of this establishment, and to always-", Lars lost his place as he grew distracted by Ronaldo and Sadie's giggling, and broke character to stifle his own snicker, then cleared his throat and continued, "And to always defend this establishment in times of distress; ie, your gem ladies' monster fights?"
"I do.", he spoke with complete bravery.
"Let it be known then that as of now, 3:38 PM, August 28th, I have passed my duties onto you, and-...gimme a sec-", the teen reached behind himself, and grabbed the rolled up 'Big Donut' t-shirt on the counter, and tapped it gently on Steven's shoulder, "I dub thee...Big Donut Employee."
Ronaldo and Sadie clapped wildly, laughing like idiots while Steven grinned brightly enough to light up the town as he took the shirt and slid it over his own, and cheered, "I've been permanently deputized! Or...at least until you come back," he smiled to the teen who was now lounging on the chair, eating one of the donuts from the box they'd prepared for him as a going away treat.
"By the time I come back, I won't have to work here, I'll have a better job," Lars smiled smugly, a few crumbs falling off his face.
"It won't be a job where you can sleep though," Sadie teased, standing up and stretching.
"I'll find a way," he joked, and finished up his donut, "You guys want any of these? I dunno if they'll last on the flight."
"Sure," they all agreed, reaching into the box.
"We're really gonna miss you, Lars," Steven said with a sad smile.
"Good, I'd be insulted if you didn't," he muttered with a snort, "But seriously, I'll be back to visit by Christmas."
"And by then you'll be able to cook a full course meal," Ronaldo chimed in, "And thus give me excuse to avoid Christmas dinner with my anti-weird relatives."
"You'd hate it at my family dinners, Ron, my family's more anti-weird than yours!", Lars laughed.
"Yeah, but food! You make good food!", he whined, which made Lars laugh even harder.
"Speaking of cooking, quick question Lars," Steven piped up, "Amethyst was wondering...if an oven is broken, can you put cake mix in the microwave?"
"Absolutely not," Lars answered, "Unless you want it to explode."
"Cool!", Steven cheered, "I'll tell her that!"
"Please don't," Lars whined.
The conversation carried on for a while until Lars' watch beeped, and he gave a soft sigh, "Looks like I gotta go catch the plane. Still gonna drive me to the airport, Ron?"
"Yeah," the curly haired teen responded softly, smiling sadly as he grabbed his keys. Technically he wasn't allowed to drive people outside of family for three more months, but he was confident enough in his driving now to not crash and kill people.
Lars hunched over, patting Steven brusquely on the back as the half-gem hugged him tightly, "Bye, man."
"Bye Lars, have fun at culinary school. Send me food!"
"I'll send you all my failed projects," he snickered, giving him another quick hug, and went over to Sadie, staring her right in the eye.
"...Don't get too lonely over there, ok?", she spoke softly, "And you know you can always call me if you miss us."
"Yeah," he sighed, leaning down to hug her tight, almost lifting her off the ground, "I'm really gonna miss you."
"Mmhm," she mumbled, holding back tears. Working here was definitely never going to be the same.
...Working there never really was the same after that. I never really was able to have the same conversations with Steven that I had with Lars. I didn't have to do as much work as before, since Steven was more than happy to pull his weight around. And I didn't have to deal with nudging someone to wake up when the customer came in. But as much as that made my job easier, I missed those little quirks in my job that Lars brought. He really was one of a kind. I hope he's doing well. We lost touch after he graduated, and I always wonder if there was something I could have done to keep him closer...but maybe he was just a free spirit like that. I hope he still is.
With that final keystroke, the column piece was done. Sadie saved the computer document, and after very quick and skillful proof reading, she sent it to the editor, and turned off her computer, resting her tired eyes momentarily.
Column piece #58 of 'Sadie's Corner' in the Beach City Bugle was done, as far as she was concerned, and now she just had to plan on writing #59 for that next Wednesday's paper. Having a weekly spot in the paper was pretty impressive, but it was still quite demanding, and Sadie considered herself lucky it wasn't a daily column.
Tying back her hair in a bun, she pulled out her notepad to scribble down ideas for the next week's topic. There was a lot of things she had covered before, and she didn't want to repeat a certain topic unless she made clear it was to be a series. She could discuss the history of the city, but then she'd have to decide which part, which event, which TOPIC of history. She could discuss the gems' own history, but then that could have easily delved into gossip, and she didn't want to do that, she was their friend. She could do another column on one of her friends, but then she'd just be repeating her most recent publishing. Animals? Baking? Politics? Sadie was trying to get her mind to spit out ideas. She couldn't just write nothing.
She got up, and went over to her cabinets, pulling out a flask full of liquor, but then she looked at it thoughtfully. She was stressed and tired yes, but she didn't want to get into a habit of letting that be her go-to for every single time she was stressed. Sighing deeply, she placed the flask back in the cupboard.
Her phone beeped with a message from Ronaldo.
Sadie, I need you now please. Peedee can't help me here.
Feeling a bad sensation in her gut, knowing Ronaldo's recent issues, she put the flask in her coat pocket. She'd probably be needing it tonight when/if she got home.
By #93, Sadie decided she wanted to write something bigger. Bigger than the third page of the Beach City Bugle, and bigger than the entire newspaper itself. But upon that decision, she found it was a lot more complex than sitting down at her computer and just writing away. Books weren't like newspaper columns that you could just change topic with. She had to keep it all together somehow.
Her mother had suggested to maybe just take all her previous columns and publish them as a compilation, but Sadie felt like that was cheating. If she was going to write a book, she wanted to put the effort in to actually write it.
Sadie also knew that the process would take longer than a week. Maybe even a year. She'd have to juggle the newspaper with her story, which would have taken it even longer. It was going to take time and patience. She told herself that.
But by #110, she had not even typed a single page.
It took a lot of deliberating to finally decide to not bring up Ronaldo's recent issues in #111. Sadie knew that it wasn't fair. Even vague writing about it would have made her feel guilt. She would have jumped at the chance to write something new, but she couldn't do it if it hurt one of her best friends. Even when he told her, without her having asked, that she could write about him, she just couldn't.
So once again, the newspaper agreed to repeat one of her older columns. Nobody will even remember it from before, they insisted, as if that was supposed to ease her worry. It just made her feel like throwing up.
Sadie found most of her time was spent in front of her computer, the document blank, blinding white. She'd type a sentence, and then immediately delete it. Then take a drink of whatever bottle she had at her desk.
She didn't want to admit she was growing a problem, but when she snapped at Steven, who was gentle as a lamb, who noticed the empty bottles in her garbage bin, she realized all of this, the stress, the writer's block, the drinking; it was changing her for the worst.
Walking into the therapist's office the following week reminded her of Lars' depression as a teenager, and Ronaldo's problems as of recent. And here they all thought she was going to be the one who never needed therapy.
The therapist had suggested that Sadie attend sobriety support meetings after several talks with her, and then suggested that she take a leave of absence from the column.
"The stress of trying to write a new topic each week is causing you a lot of unneeded stress. If you can, have them repeat your best columns, and take this time to focus on your other writing."
Sadie was almost relieved with that validation, especially when the therapist insisted it wouldn't be anything near 'lying to herself'. She just needed this time to de-stress and focus on her own health and mindset.
It was easier said than done. Attending the sobriety meetings was stressful and if anything, Sadie wished she could get more drunk after them. When she looked at the paper, and saw the repeats of columns past, she wanted to cringe, or cancel her newspaper subscription, and even without alcohol, she still sat at her desk, staring at the blank document on her computer.
"When was the last time you left Beach City?", the therapist had asked her, "If you can't find any more inspiration here, maybe you need to find it somewhere else."
Sadie was not too keen on traveling anywhere, but decided it was worth a shot.
While visiting Ronaldo's half empty apartment, she told him of her plans to travel to Palm City on the west coast.
"...How long are you going to be gone?", he asked, voice devoid of emotion.
"...I really don't know," she sighed, knowing this could be a gamble on her friend's mental state, "I just...I really need this." She had her own mentality to worry about too.
"...You do know Lars went to college there, right? And that he's still there? Is that why you picked it?", he asked, tone not changing.
"No...It's just a big change from Beach City. I doubt Lars would have time to see me anyway. He's not had the time to return back here..."
If their friend had been there for so long without ever returning to Beach City, then maybe it was a place she could grow inspired by.