Chapter Two – Getting Clearer
The next morning, Michelangelo rubbed his eyes and turned to look out his window. He'd kept his mouth shut about the encounter the rest of the day and busied himself with unpacking and helping the rest of his family settle in. A large maple tree grew right outside the back of the farm house and Michelangelo was given the room with the best view of the branches. Mostly due to the fact that Leonardo didn't seem to have a preference, he would share a room with Master Splinter, Donatello had already holed himself up in another room, and Raphael decided to have the attic to himself. So, the room with the best view was taken by him.
He rolled over on his plastron and stared into the twisting branches. A black-capped chickadee was hopping quickly from branch to branch. Michelangelo had never seen one before. It was round and small, with the top of its head black and wide white cheeks. He decided it was his favorite bird. Its chirping song had woken him, though he hadn't really slept the night before. His mind was occupied with the girl he'd met at the pond. What was she doing there? More importantly, why wasn't she freaked out by me?
Feeling anxious and restless, he rolled out of bed and crept into the hallway. The sound of voices drifted up. They were quiet but the tone was harsh; angry. Michelangelo moved stealthily down the creaking stairs, trying to make as little sound as possible. At the bottom of the stairs, he could see into the sitting room. In the yellowish shadows of the morning light, he spotted Leonardo sitting on the worn couch, in the dark, alone, hands folded on his lap, looking all the world like someone patiently waiting for a bus or a train. He was dressed in black sweats and a light grey hooded sweatshirt despite the warmth of the morning. Michelangelo still hadn't gotten used to seeing his brother in clothes and every time it was still a bit jarring. Michelangelo moved through the room, pausing at the hallway leading to the kitchen where the voices were coming from.
"Can't your Aunt Ronnie handle this one without you?" It was April's voice. She sounded fed up and tired. He wondered if they'd been up the entire night fighting. "I mean, really, Casey, we just got up here and now you've got to drive all the way back."
"I told ya, babe, Marcy got picked up by the cops again. With Uncle Eddie gone, it's been too much. Besides she never calls me unless it's important."
There was a soft sound as if April snorted. "Don't call me babe. And that's my point. This isn't the first time. She's been through this over and over. And what about Marcy's brother? He lives with them for god's sake. Can't your cousin take care of this? Why does it always have to be you?"
"Sean?" Casey asked, his voice rising in disbelief. "Sean can't tell his head from his ass. Look, I'm going. End of story," he snapped, then more gently, "I'll be back as soon as I can, okay? Hey, look at me. Okay?"
Silence. Then, "Fine. Just do what you need to then come back, okay?" A pleading tone that Michelangelo didn't like entered her voice now. "You know I'm not crazy about your cousin. He's...He's a bad influence on you."
"Okay, Mom. Geez." His rough laughter filled the room then faded.
The room grew quiet. Michelangelo looked across the shadows at his older brother still sitting, still staring at the dust motes in front of him, not really seeing them. He stepped over and sat next to Leo as the back door screen creaked then slammed shut. The sound of the truck engine starting and the water in the kitchen sink running and dishes being slammed around drifted into the room.
"Well, I guess we're not goin' to see Casey for the rest of the week."
He glanced at Leo who said nothing. Michelangelo shifted. He wanted to talk to someone about the girl he'd met but was lost as to how to broach the subject. He knew Leo had the most experience out of the bunch but figured that the subject of relationships was definitely out of bounds with his older brother. And he certainly didn't want to be the first one to bring up Karai and what had happened to Leo and how the relationship came to its brutal end. Mikey wasn't about to step on that land mine. No one talked about it. Everyone pretended it didn't happen. Shredder was almost never mentioned. And it was as if Karai didn't exist; had never existed. Mikey wished that were true. He missed his big brother with the easy smile and sparkle in his eyes. This version of him was hard and cold, not mean like Raph could be, but always distant, never really there with them anymore. He scratched the top of one knee, fidgeting as he sat.
"How'd ya sleep?" Michelangelo finally asked unable to keep quiet any longer.
Leonardo shrugged slightly.
"Me either. It's so loud out here with the bugs and stuff chirping all night. Not that I miss the traffic, but it was weird, you know? I thought country life was quiet and peaceful."
Leonardo gave what could've been a nod and stood up and walked into the kitchen.
"Good talk, good talk," Michelangelo said to the room as he tapped his fingers on the top of his knees.
Donatello groggily stepped down the staircase. He lost his footing and slipped down the last two stairs. He hollered; grabbed the railing to stop himself from continuing to fall onto his bottom; one hand slamming into the opposite wall for support. Michelangelo couldn't hold back the burst of laughter that erupted from him.
"Smooth, ninja boy!" he called as he got up from the couch. "Walk down stairs much?"
Donatello glared at him. "Actually, no, not that much," he snapped. Then turned towards the kitchen. "Coffee," he mumbled grumpily. Michelangelo followed, clapping his brother on the shoulder, one arm around the back of his shell.
April looked up at them with a forced smile planted across her face. Leonardo was eating a bowl of cereal, partially turned in his seat to look outside through the open screen door.
"Good morning, boys," she said cheerfully. Michelangelo thought her eyes looked a little bright and red around the edges. She marched up to Donatello and held out a cup of coffee to him. He took it, sipped it, and then blinked in surprise as what just happened hit him. His face snapped up.
"Th…Thanks, April. You didn't have to make me any…"
She brushed her hand at him, dismissively. "Ah, it was no problem. I've been up for hours. I know you like it black, right. No sugar, no cream. Straight up, black."
Donatello nodded in a daze. He glanced around. His keen mind calculating.
"Casey with Raph?"
"Hm? Oh, no. He…He, uh, had to go back. To the city. Some trouble with his cousins. Again." She laughed as if the entire situation was simply hysterical. "Happens all the time," she went on, her voice clipped and strained and Donatello glanced at Michelangelo who raised his eye brows. A smile he couldn't stop suddenly appeared on his face. He cleared his throat, interrupting April's rant.
"So, what do we do today?" Donatello asked brightly and took another sip of his coffee. His day was suddenly looking up.
"Oh, I was thinking maybe we'd go down to the fishing pond and…"
"No!" Michelangelo shouted. Three heads turned in his direction. He looked at each of them in turn. "I, uh, mean, I already saw that place," he laughed nervously, and grabbed the box of cereal and pulled it in front of him, "Why not, I dunno, how about we go to the lake? I haven't seen the lake." He tried to look as innocent as possible as he peered over the box at April.
April ran a hand through her hair. "Well, sure. We can go to the lake today."
That was a close one. Michelangelo blew out a relieved breath and poured the dry flakes into the bowl that April placed in front of him. He decided that avoidance would be his plan of action. Maybe not the most courageous of plans. But he couldn't come up with anything better and he couldn't exactly ask for advice from any of his family members. April was fighting with Casey, Donatello was struggling with his feelings for April, poor Leo was lost in a haze, and Raph would probably not even believe him. And as for Splinter, he shuddered as he recalled Splinter's reaction to Leo pursuing Karai. Well, at least my girlfriend isn't in the Foot, he thought defensively then froze with the spoon halfway to his mouth.
Okay, maybe shouldn't think of her as my girlfriend when I only said like two words to her and only met her once. If he never went back, then that girl would think it was all a dream or a hallucination or something and forget she ever saw him. Problem solved. Now, if he could only stop thinking about her and her grey blue eyes, and the way her toes were curled in the grass and the sound of her voice when she giggled.
The next day Donatello and April had the most exciting plan of repainting the barn. Master Splinter urged his sons to join in and stressed that the activity would benefit their hostess as well as be good exercise for them all. Too much leisure was frowned upon when it came to their Sensei. Keeping his complaints to himself, Michelangelo carried buckets of paint down to the old barn. They got to work. It was tedious, it was repetitive, it was completely dull.
At one point, Raphael came running out of the barn, screaming like a banshee. His job was to muck out the old rotten hay and apparently he'd come across the biggest spider he'd ever seen in his life. Every time he described it, it seemed to grow another inch. Michelangelo had gone in search of the supposed monster, but found nothing. He'd hoped to capture it and put it in Raph's bed later. But no luck. Raph was reassigned to scraping old paint off the back of the building after that. And that was the highlight of the morning for Michelangelo. The rest was just work, work, boring, work. Halfway between pulling strips of old, peeling paint and smearing the new red paint over the scoured surface, Michelangelo was beat and at his breaking point for boredom and repetitive tasks. He'd been so thoroughly bored, though he tried his best to be cheerful and helpful. April had mercy.
"I think you've earned some play time. That's enough for the day, Mikey."
"Huh?" His paint streaked face shot up. "You're setting me free?"
April smiled and nodded. She watched as he jumped up and ran to the farm house for a quick shower.
"Now he has plenty of energy," Donatello said sourly from next to April.
She turned and brought the tip of her wet paint brush across his snout. He gasped in surprise, then as she laughed and sprinted away, he chased her, swiping his brush at her.
"You can't outrun a ninja, April!"
"I can try!" she yelped and leapt clumsily over a bunch of empty paint cans.
Leonardo, wearing an old white shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, arms covered in paint splatters and jean overalls with the straps hanging at his waist, watched them. The smallest of smiles played at the corners of his lips but his deep blue eyes held concern for his younger brother. Master Splinter sat quietly on a mat in the grass observing his son as he chased April, tackled her, started to tickle her; disapproving, but saying nothing for now.
Michelangelo didn't mean to go down the path, his feet were in more control than his brain. He'd decided to just avoid her but apparently that wasn't going to happen. Because somehow he was there, looking all around for any sign of the girl. The tree's sweeping branches moved in the breeze, the water of the pond rippled in the center where it was deepest. He sighed, disappointed. Maybe it was for the best, anyway. He walked around the edge of the pond, trailing one hand through the reeds and stopping now and then to test what the cattails felt like. They were rough and strange beneath his fingers. He never felt anything like it before. He reached down and plucked a tall, dry piece of grass and stuck it in the corner of his mouth, between two of his bottom teeth.
He moved to the flatter area of soft grass and sat down. Absentmindedly, he rubbed his feet through the silky strands of grass, his toes grabbing the blades as she had done. It felt tickly but nice. He decided that he loved the feeling. The work of the morning and the soft, cool breeze blowing across his skin began to make him feel drowsy. Someone came and sat next to him.
"Hey, April," he said, then did a double take and sat up. "Oh! Oh, it's you."
"Hi," the girl said. She brought her knees up and rested her elbows on top just as she did the other day. Up close, Michelangelo could see her eyes were such a light blue that they were nearly silver. She smiled and it did something to him. He felt lighter, happier, suddenly.
"Where'd you come from?" he asked, noticing her feet were bare.
She shrugged. I always come here. Especially when it hurts too much."
Michelangelo nodded sagely. Then asked, "What do you mean?"
"This is my happy place. I've come here since I was just a little kid. I used to come all the time, but now not so much."
Michelangelo watched her as she talked to him. How her eyes restlessly roved over the sparkling water, up into the sky, into the swaying tree branches; all the light and life reflected in her glassy blue eyes. He wanted to kiss her then. The feeling shocked him. He hardly knew her. But there, when she tilted her head a little, when her toes curled up, grasping the dark green blades between them, he felt his stomach tighten and warmth spread through him and he wanted nothing more than to lean over and kiss her on her small pink lips.
"So, are you going to answer my question or just stare at me all day?" she asked and he blinked. Wait, what?
"I…I'm sorry, I sorta got lost in a moment," he chuckled and her smile spread. "Please repeat the question."
"What are you doing here? No one's ever been here before." She leaned her cheek against her arm and looked at him, eyes twinkling.
"Uh, I, um, came up with some friends and er, family for a little vacation." He tried to make it as vague as possible.
"Really. How interesting."
He frowned, not sure if she was being sarcastic or not. It didn't feel like she was.
"I like your eyes."
He ducked his head, looked away as his cheeks colored. Ah, man, what was he, a kid?
"You're very bright."
"Hah! You're the first person to ever call me that," he laughed and picked up a flat small stone. He leaned forward and threw it into the pond. It skipped three times before it plopped beneath the surface. Yes! He leaned back and glanced her way to see if she saw. His heart skipped as his eyes met hers.
"I like you."
Michelangelo froze. Only his eyes moved as he sat facing forward, afraid to move more than he had to. Did she just say…did I hear her say…? He decided to play it casual and point out the obvious in case she didn't realize she was talking to a mutant freak who she only just met the other day.
"But I'm a…" he paused and she continued looking at him with that freckle-sprinkled smile, he continued after swallowing dryly, "…you know…not uh, um…" he paused again; held out his palm as though presenting the facts, "And besides that, while I think I am quite the character….aheh, you don't really know me….that…well," he finished lamely and licked his lips. What was he trying to say again?
She shrugged and he wanted to kiss her more than anything in the world.
"Can I kiss you?" he blurted out, then in horror, clamped his hands over his mouth, eyes round circles. Before she could respond, he jumped up to his feet. "I gotta go!" He ran down the path as her gentle laughter flowed after him. His heart pounded in his chest.
I'm such a moron! Dumb! Dumb! Dumb! He thought as each racing footstep brought him back to the farm house.
Donatello was sitting next to April on the porch swing as he approached. He slowed down and swung his arms at his sides, trying to appear as normal and nonchalant as possible. He climbed the porch steps and leaned on the railing of the wrap-around porch in front of the couple. For a moment, he forgot why he wanted to talk to April as he took in the scene before him.
April was holding a weeping glass of lemonade up against her temple, one leg closest to the back of the swing was bent, her other leg was draped casually over Donatello's lap. Donatello was engrossed in rubbing the foot at the end of that leg. Something about Donatello's fingers massaging her bare foot made him think of his girl back at the pond and a fluttering skittish feeling went through his middle. Donatello sat smiling and staring at April all the while, not even aware of his brother's presence. Michelangelo felt a nervous vibe suddenly run up his spine. Casey would not be pleased if he saw this, Mikey realized with a sinking dread. He cleared his throat. April squinted up at him, Donatello continued to ignore him. He sighed. He'd have to talk with his big brother later.
"Oh, hi, Mikey. Gosh, I didn't even see you there. Were you down by the pond again?"
"Uh, yeah, yeah I was. April, I wanted to ask you. When we were coming up here, you said there weren't any neighbors for miles and miles."
"Well, maybe that's a bit of an exaggeration. There's farm houses and other properties around, we're just pretty spread out."
"Do you…uh, do you happen to know if there's anyone who lives around here, with kids?"
"Hm?"
"You know, like anyone that would be, say fourteen or so?"
She thought a moment then shook her head. "Nope. None that I can think of. The town used to be full of farming families, back when I was a kid in the nineties, but everything kind of died when the economy got bad. The only people around that I'm aware of are retirees, mostly. Why?"
"Oh. Uh, no reason. Just wondering." He shook his confused head and went inside. Maybe she's here visiting her grandparents. Didn't she say she lived with them or something? He decided one thing, tomorrow, he was going to ask her what her name was. He couldn't keep walking around thinking of her as his girl. Though that did have a nice ring to it. Mikey's girl. He smiled to himself and walked into Splinter.
"Oh, uh, Splinter! I'm so sorry, Sensei. I wasn't paying attention to where my feet and they wanted to go," he scrambled to make sense, knowing he wasn't getting close.
Splinter nodded and patted him on his arm, "Relax, my son. I'm fine." He gazed up at his flustered son. "Are you feeling well, Michelangelo?"
"Me?" he squeaked. "Yeah, I am feeling fine. Oh so fine. Fit and fine." He stepped backwards as he went on. "Fit as a fiddle. A finely tuned fiddle, in fact!" He turned and ran up the stairs, praying that Master Splinter couldn't read minds. That wasn't a supreme ninja skill, was it? He'd have to ask Donnie later after he grilled him about his touchy feely-ness with April while Casey was gone.
Later that night, Michelangelo came downstairs for a snack. April was in the kitchen with Raphael and Donatello, playing cards and…drinking? Mikey paused, looking over April's shoulder. There were three empty beer bottles near her. He counting two by Donatello and six…seven…by Raph, the half-full one in his hand made eight. He shook his head and realized Master Splinter was in bed by now. He opened the fridge and pulled out the milk and nearly squealed in joy as he spotted a plate of cookies. April was an angel, no wonder Donnie loved her so!
"Can I?" he turned and showed the plate to April. She rolled her eyes.
"Those were for tomorrow after lunch, but go ahead," she took a swig of beer and held up two fingers. Her smile widened as her phone rang. She sat up and pulled her phone from her pocket.
"Oh, it's Casey." She stood up and stepped out through the screen door onto the porch. "Hello? Casey? Is that you?"
Raphael slid his cards face down on the table. "Good, we got a minute ta talk," he said to Donatello. He set his cards down and crossed his arms.
"About?" Donatello asked innocently. Mikey knew where this was going. Maybe Raphael would fix things and make it clear that what Donnie was doing with April wasn't right. Even he could tell. He bit into the delicious cookie but anxiety stirred in his stomach.
Raphael leaned forward in his chair and in a low voice said, "What the hell do you think you've been doin' egghead?"
Donatello blinked at him and said nothing.
"You know she's with him, Donnie. She's engaged, man."
He shrugged. "I don't know what you're talking about."
"You don't know…if Casey hears about this he's gonna kick your smart-ass all over this farm. And I ain't gonna stop 'em," he hissed.
Donatello leaned forward in his chair, braced his hands against the table and opened his mouth to retort when suddenly April's furious and outraged voice drifted through the screen. The tone rising as she rattled off words in rapid succession. Everyone's heads snapped towards the sound.
"Are you freakin' kidding me, Casey? Tell me you're not there with Sean. No. No. Put him on the phone. No. Sean, where are you and Casey right now. Answer me. Casey? No, I don't want to hear any more of your lame ass lies! You better believe it was a mistake that you called me! Right. You'd never want me to know about you're little guys' night out. You know what? Yeah, Casey, you know what? Stay there. I don't want you comin' back, you got that? No. You got that? I mean it! You freakin' slob!"
The sound of her sobs filled the air and the noise of something being thrown into the yard. Donatello jumped up, knocking his chair back and dashed outside. The screen door slamming behind him. Raphael sat back in his chair and shook his head in disgust. He threw back the bottle and drank the remaining liquid inside. Then looked at his youngest brother. Michelangelo swallowed the rest of his cookie and it went down like a lump of lead in his throat and sat in the middle of his stomach like a stone.
"Fuckin' Casey," his voice was slurred around the edges. "He's gotta go an' screw up the best thing he's ever had and for what? He don't even realize April's the best woman in the whole effin' world."
Something dawned on Michelangelo then. It started to get clearer as he thought on it. He looked out the screen door to see Donatello wrapping his arms around a distraught April.
But he does. Donnie realizes it.
A/N: Yeah, so this is still gonna be a short story. Shorter than my others, but I had to flesh it out more than what could fit into a one-shot. I guess my muse decided she wanted to give Mikey a bit more attention, lol. Well, he deserves it don't you think?
Anyway, how am I doing with him? And yes, answers about the mystery girl will be forthcoming. Here's a hint, I am a big fan of Alice Hoffman and the genre she writes in: magical realism. There's not really a sub-category for that in so I'm still struggling to label this story correctly.
Anyway, keep the reviews coming! I really want to know what you think of this! xo
