A/N: So I had every intention of posting this early Tuesday morning, and like literally 10 minutes before I was going to do it I was locked out of my account for I Think You Should Know I'm Damaged violating the TOS (it was also deleted), so I had to wait until now. Sorry.
Anyway, jandjsalmon and shootingstella I hope I did you idea and suggestions justice. I adore you both :)
"I don't need eye shadow." Tate grumbled.
"Yes you do." Said Emma cheerfully as she advanced on him, her hand clutched around little plastic wand like a weapon. He sighed and closed his eyes and she gleefully smeared chartreuse powder across his lids.
He looked mournfully at the little containers of colored powders spread across Emma's play table when he opened his eyes again.
"You look like a really colorful frog." I smirked, and he glared at me, knees up near his shoulders from sitting in the kid sized chair.
As soon as Emma's back was turned he flipped me off with a smirk. "Em, can I please wash this off?" He pleaded when she turned her attention back to him.
She stuck her lip out in a full pout and looked at him sullenly. He grabbed for her, smearing shimmery lip gloss across her cheeks as he kissed her, banishing her pout in a fit of giggles before I pulled her away.
"Mmmm... What flavor was that lip gloss?" I asked after kissing her on the cheek and licking my lips. "Cherry?"
"Strawberry." She corrected.
I carried her into the bathroom and sat her on the counter before pulling some baby wipes out and cleaning the mess off her cheeks. I tossed Tate the package as he walked in and Emma's pout was back. "You can do all different colors tomorrow."
"No she can't." Her eyes swiveled between us like she was watching a tennis match.
I gave him a meaningful look. "Yes she can."
"Yes she can." He said, defeated. I nudged him out of the way and held Emma up so she could wash her hands before taking her back to her room, and settling her under the covers while we waited for Tate to come back.
"I'm not sleepy." She said silently, fighting against a yawn.
"Okay." I brushed the hair away from her face and tucked it behind her ears. "Just close your eyes and rest while Tate reads to you." Tate came back in, standing next to the bed and peering down at her. I knew she was trying to convince him she wasn't tired too, and he just shook his head.
I leaned down so she could wrap her arms around my neck before I kissed her cheek and told her I loved her. "I love you too." It was our usual bedtime routine, even before she died, but it was still nice to have someone who loved you, to hear it and not have it hurt. Tate went through the same motions as me before seating himself in the rocking chair and picking up the book. He read out loud so we could all hear.
Twenty minutes of secret gardens and animal charming boys and she drifted off into a deep sleep. I turned the light off and we slipped out of the room. I couldn't help but breathe out a sigh of relief. Twenty-three days since she died, and the closest she'd gotten to asking for her parents was to ask when she was going back to preschool. I almost cried. Almost.
It was a non-issue; she'd always been happier spending her days at home playing with Lorraine's little girls and Travis than going to preschool so when we told her she wouldn't be, she smiled. I almost cried because of that too. I walked down the hallway to the bathroom, each step a monumental effort, because this was the worst part of my day. The part of the day when I couldn't push away what happened because Emma needed me to be strong for her.
"Vi?" I turned and looked at Tate as my hand gripped the doorknob. "Never mind." He said awkwardly, the desire he felt to reach out and touch me visible on every inch of him. It was the same every night, and I would have been grateful if the familiarity of it would breed contempt because at least then it would stop hurting.
He was still standing there as the door closed between us. I leaned against it to resist the temptation to let him wrap his arms around me and make me feel safe, or at least let him shelter me from my worries before they crushed me.
I pushed myself away, turning on the faucet in the tub, waiting for it to get blisteringly hot. Emma's parents had left the day she died; staying only long enough after the coroner's office left with her body to pack some bags. Emma slept through all of it, and I was grateful. A week later a team of assistants descended on the house and packed up all of their personal belongings, leaving the furniture and Emma's room untouched.
I lowered myself into the water slowly, gritting my teeth through the too hot embrace as a lit cigarette already dangled from my lips. This was the only place that felt like home other than him, and it was funny to me; vampires probably felt the same way about their coffins. I suppose I could have hunted up Hugo, found out if a good old-fashioned spite fuck made me feel better, and doing that wouldn't hurt my mother who was just as guilty as Tate, so what was the point?
I closed my eyes trying not to think of all my fears and inadequacies, tried to not let them pick at my brain like hungry insects. When the pain of the scalding water and the burn of cigarette smoke didn't work I reached for an old friend hidden under a bottle of body wash. I didn't bother with a timid preamble anymore. I wanted it to hurt. The sooner it hurt, the sooner I felt better.
It burned when it tore into the soft flesh on the underside of my upper arm. The razor was rusty and dull and that was even better than a sharp blade. A sharp blade just sort of stung; a dull one hurt.
Left. Right. Upper. Lower. Old actions, new patterns. My cuts were like a dinner bell to Pavlov's dogs because by the time I was contemplating making patterns on the top of my thigh I could smell him on the steam permeating the small room, intensifying it until the harsh copper smell of blood was mixed with the scent of him. I flicked the shower curtain closed around me.
"If you don't like it, don't watch." I could see his shadow form and outline against the plastic. I propped my foot up on the edge of the tub and made three nice lines, like exclamation marks, against the top of my thigh just to spite him.
His shadow moved, sitting heavily on the floor, head bowed. I could imagine him out there, my sad broken boy, pulling a loose strand out of the well worn jeans or sweater he wore. The only sound between us for a while the inaudible tear of the blade and swishing tinkle of water as I cleaned off the blood after each cut.
"Did I do something wrong? I thought I was doing okay with Em; I thought that's what you wanted."
"It is and you are." I tried to stamp out the bitterness I felt at him being round. It was easier when she was here, when I could forget that he was only doing what he was doing to get back in my good graces. When I could forget for the moment that he was using her because as much as I hated to admit it he was good with her. All those soft and sweet sides I remembered and didn't want to were constantly on display. It didn't help because once I was away from her I couldn't forget his reasons for doing it.
"I thought you'd be happier now, having Emma to take care of; I was always happier when I had you to take care of."
"I thought I was the one who needed taking care of. Isn't that why you almost killed that guy?" The silence was ringing in my ears. "I don't know why you thought killing Em would fix anything."
I wasn't going to tell him that I was happy. Deep under the fears and worries and insecurities and inadequacies I was happy. Even if I tried to ignore it there was a part of me that was elated she was mine, that I'd never have to give her up, that was waiting for the day when she'd call me 'mommy'. That was the part of me that was fueling the self-destruction now.
Not that I was going to tell him any of that. "Is that why you loved me? Because I let you take care of me?"
"No."
"That's not why I love her either." I said sharply.
"I wish you'd tell me what's wrong so I could fix it." There was a note of defeat and all it did was make me angry.
"That. That's the problem, right there." I said harshly. "Every time I tell you what's wrong you try to fix things and all it does it make it worse. I don't need you to fix my life, Tate."
"Then what do you need?" The haste of his reply communicating the determination he felt to give me anything I might need.
I needed a lot of things, but what I needed more than anything right now was for it to be okay to be vulnerable; to a allow a chink in the careful armor I wore so I could bleed out my worries.
I heard the sharp intake of breath he was hoping would calm him before he spoke again. "Fine. I won't try to fix anything, just fucking talk to me."
I sat there for a long time, the sharp tink, tink, tink of steel against porcelain belying my impatience with myself. I always wanted to tell him what was wrong, always wanted to confide in him, to let him see that side that no one else saw, and I hated that if I did I knew I'd feel better. "She hasn't even been here six months." But maybe in this one instance he was the perfect one for me to share my worries with, because he'd felt them before too, with me.
For once nothing but silence met my words and that made it easier. "What if I'm not enough for her? I worry I won't be enough to keep her happy; forever's a long time. I mean her parents were shitty, but I just... every day I worry that she's going to realize they're gone forever and they're not coming back and I won't be enough for her. I can't protect her from that, and I can't make it better."
I took a deep breath. "And what if in a few years I won't want this? I won't want her? What if it becomes too much and I have to disappear into the house again? Who's going to take care of her then? You? My parents? The only reason you care about her is because you want me back."
"Then why didn't you tell her I killed her?" His voice was barely above a whisper.
"Because I couldn't save her. Because I'm just as guilty as you. All I wanted to do was protect her and the one time I wasn't there to do it you killed her." There was that crushing guilt too, for not protecting her from that. "Why didn't you tell her?"
"Because it would break her heart. Because when she looks at me she doesn't see a monster; she looks at me like you used to. I don't want to lose that again."
"Honestly, Tate, her finding out what really happened that night is the least of my worries."
He shifted, leaning up against the wall next to me. "Can I say something then?"
"I guess."
"The house always gives us what we need in the end. If I hadn't died here I never would have met you. If I had been alive when I met you I would have been in my mid-30's, and what if I'd moved to Kansas or something? Without the house I wouldn't have found you, and I don't care what you think, I know that even with six billion other people on the planet you're the one, the only one. She was meant to be yours; the house was just the means of facilitating it."
"And I don't worry about you getting bored with her in a few years, or deciding you don't like being a parent and abandoning her. She owns you like you own me. I see the way you look at her, Vi. I see how happy she makes you, how much she's a part of you. I will always be here, waiting, just like you'll always be there for her."
"What if that's just the house?" I said miserably. Sometimes I really hated that I was cursed with ovaries because of the effect this stupid fucking house had on them.
"It's not." A simple statement only possible if you had a penis and lived here. "Anyway, kids take to it better I think. Look at Lorraine's little girls; they're perfectly happy having tea parties with Travis from now until whenever. Their world is smaller, simpler at that age, and she's even younger. Just because you think she's missing out doesn't mean she does."
I sighed. "Hand me a towel."
Little gentle fingers were tracing my face when I opened my eyes to meet the sea green ones that were watching me curiously. "Hi." It was always the best part of my day.
"Hi." I smiled at her and she smiled back before I rolled over, extending an arm to wrap around her.
"You're pretty. I want to look like you when I grow up." She was still watching me, and I was fighting not to let the pain her words created to show on my face, or leak out my eyes. "I dressed myself this morning." She said proudly, not noticing the gaping hole in my chest that had opened up.
"Did you?"
She nodded. "But Grandma Vivien had to tie my shoes for me." She scooted off the bed and did a little twirl next to it so I could take in her outfit: a purple dress with white and purple striped tights, and red converse.
"Very pretty."
She crawled back up on the bed and kissed my sloppily on the cheek. "Where's Tate?"
"In the attic with Beau probably." And she was gone, skipping out the door and down the hall calling his name.
I let my head fall back heavily against the bank of pillows. I was going to kill Vivien.
"Bet you enjoyed that." I muttered as my dad walked out kitchen door to join me. "Must be nice to be the one who didn't fuck up for once, huh?"
He sat down, looking at me crossley. At least he didn't look like he was going to cry. Yet. "It's been over a month, you're going to have to give her a break at some point. I don't see you ripping Tate's head off all the time."
"That doesn't mean I'm not punishing him for what he did."
"Is that so?"
"Yeah, it is. You think he's wants to be Emma's bitch all the time? We all know why he's doing this, and it's not because of her."
He laughed. "Do you really think so?" I shot him a filthy look; he of all people should know better. If memory served he was the one who diagnosed Tate as a psychopath and pathological liar.
He pulled a cigarette from my pack and lit it. "If you're going to let him help with Emma your mom deserves the same chance. I don't agree with what she did, but she loves you. The thing that hurt her the most was that while her and I got a fresh start when we died, you didn't. You got stuck in this place with someone who broke your heart and nothing else. She wants you to be happy. She sees how much Emma has made you better. Nobody wanted anyone else to die here, but Emma's better off here, with you, than she'd be out there with her 'parents'." He made little air quotes around the world.
He smoked in silence for a few minutes before he seemed to make up his mind about something and spoke again. "Who are you really made at? Because that - what happened in there - it's not about your mom."
"Then what's it about?" I snapped.
"Maybe you just don't want to admit to yourself that the reason you let Tate around her in the first place, the reason you left Emma with him that night, was because you knew what he'd do, and it was what you wanted. You just couldn't bring yourself to do it. Maybe it's time to get off your high horse, Vi."
"You know what she said to me this morning?" I spat at him, unwilling to acknowledge his words or that part of me that wondered, very deep down, if he wasn't right. "That I was pretty and she wanted to be like me when she grew up. How the hell am I supposed to feel about that? What am I supposed to do when she asks me why she isn't growing up?"
Before he could say anything I walked back in the house, slamming the door behind me. Sometimes it sucked living with a shrink.
"Come on." His was whiny, needling. "Please. Ten minutes."
"Fine." I gave in with a sigh and opened my eyes to find myself on the roof.
"Over here." Tate called and I made my way across the slope of the roof to where he sat. On the opposite side of the house from Constance's. I didn't miss that.
"Wow. Fire. Thrilling." I said as I sat down.
"It's pretty."
"Was Larry when you lit him on fire?"
"Yep." He smiled, and even though I knew I shouldn't, I did too.
I tucked my skirt under my legs to keep it from flapping in the hot winds carrying ash over the city as the hills burned. Even though it was miles away, and I couldn't see the people, I knew where they were was chaos. But life in the city below the hills went on as usual. Head lights snaked through the streets; I could hear the sounds people and music floating in with the ash, a dog barking somewhere close by. Life went on even in the face of tragedy.
"You know I didn't really leave the basement when you were gone, but I'd always come up here and watch this every year."
"Who needs T.V. when you've got natural disasters for your viewing pleasure?"
He laughed. "It wasn't like that. I guess it made me feel better. If I couldn't have you I didn't see the point in anything else. I would have burned the world down if I could."
"Could have burned the house down."
"You were inside it; it might have hurt you."
"That's kind of sweet."
"Thanks." He said awkwardly.
"So is that why you drug me up here? To charm me with you nihilism?"
"No." He grimaced. "Em's out for the night, it's nice up here. I thought you might want to do something other than sit in your room and read."
"I like books. It's nice to live in a different world for a while."
He was quiet as we shared a cigarette. "Do you ever think you'll want me again?" His voice was an inch tall and filled with guilt.
"I can't even think about that right now, Tate, not with everything going on with Emma."
"It's settling down. I just want you to know that you can have me too. If you ever get... sick of your books or whatever, or want to play cards or Scrabble or something once she's asleep, I'm here. I mean, this world can be nice too, you know?"
I leaned my face against my knees and looked at him. It would be so much easier if I wanted to get over him. He did the same thing, the flames in the hills forgotten, the ones between us flaring. "I don't know if I can ever be with you again. I don't know if I can love you again, like I did; I don't know if I can feel safe with you."
Pain washed across his face and he tried to hide it, but he couldn't hide it in his voice when he said he understood that, and it tore at me because even with everything as fucked up as everything was between us I still loved him.
Sometimes I thought I fell in love with him when he was giving me suicide tips in the bathroom. I hadn't wanted anyone else since that moment. I wished he felt the same way. But it wasn't enough to stop him from doing what he did. I wished it were.
I was trying to read. Trying to. But inevitably my eyes were drawn up away from the text across the page to watch Tate and Emma across the yard from me. I watched the expressions flit across their face, but they weren't giving away whatever it was that they were talking about. He lifted her up, blowing a raspberry on her stomach before setting her down again and chasing her around the yard for a while. It made me smile despite myself, watching them.
"You know there really isn't a greater aphrodisiac than children." Chad drawled as he sat down next to me.
"I wouldn't know." I said stiffly.
"Yes you would. I've been watching you watch them for the last forty-five minutes with that hungry look on your face."
Tate sat down in the shade of a tree and pushed the messy, and probably damp, curls away from his eyes. I remembered when they were damp for other reasons because Chad wasn't entirely wrong; in fact he was completely right. I missed him. I missed him being mine; in my bed, on the attic floor, in my dad's office. I smiled at the memory of that last one.
I remembered what it was like afterwards; the way he'd trace patterns on my back as his breathing steadied. I wasn't even aware I'd drifted away from the backyard and breathing hard at the memory of how I straddled across him as he sat in one of the dining room chairs; the way the ridge around the head of his cock caressed me inside as I slid up and down, fingers dug into his shoulders. Then I remembered where else that appendage had been and I wanted to throw up.
Lorraine was smoldering prettily in the dark a few feet away from me. It was nice next to her, warm, you just had to make sure you sat her on a really wet patch of grass. Emma was in my lap, bent over the book of constellations as she held the flashlight in her hand.
"I think that's Hercules." Angie said, pointing up at a patch of sky.
"Where?" Said Emma, her head tilted up.
"There."
"Oh... yeah, I think it is." She said with all the certainty she could muster, but I was sure she couldn't see Hercules any more than I could, which was not at all.
"There's the big dipper." I pointed up.
"Everyone can find that, Violet." Margaret giggled.
"Yeah." Emma parroted, and I tickled her; little smart ass.
Lorraine let her girls stay outside until the sounds of Constance shrieking like the shrew she is rent the night air. Apparently her new dog walker left something to be desired. Tate was inside with my dad, locked away in his old office having a 'session'. I couldn't imagine that going well, but since my dad couldn't have living patients he spent his time with dead ones. He said it kept intellectually engaged. I thought that was bullshit, but boredom was a common disease in this house.
Emma leaned back against me, keeping the chill at bay now that our space heater had gone inside. "Where did my mom and dad go Violet?" I wanted to die. I wanted the earth to open up under me and swallow me whole. I seriously contemplated picking her up, walking into the office, setting her on Tate's lap, and walking out. I didn't.
"I don't know, Em. They went away, and I don't know where they went."
"Are they coming back?" There was a little wobble of fear to her voice.
"No." I forced the word out and waited, bracing myself for what was coming.
"Am I going to have to leave too?"
"No." My heart felt like it was trying to force itself out my chest.
"Promise?"
"Yeah." This time I really did cry. Just a few silent tears of relief.
I was sitting on the stairs waiting for Tate when he came out of the office. "Where's the midget?"
"Kitchen, with my mom, having a cup of hot chocolate. She asked about her parents." My mind was such a mess of emotions I was finding it hard to formulate coherent thoughts.
He sat down next to me, carefully, like I might beat him to death. If Emma had freaked out about her parents leaving I might have. "What did she say?"
"She made me promise that she could stay here."
He didn't say anything, just rubbed his hand up and down my back until Emma came out of the kitchen wearing a hot chocolate mustache.
"You seem happier."
I laid my tiles out on the board. "I'm cursed with shitty, low number tiles tonight, but other than that, yes, I am happier, well less worried I guess."
Tate wrote down my score before contemplating the lettered tiles in front of him. "It's settling down."
"For now." I added, my natural pessimism floating to the surface.
He frowned. "Halloween's coming up." He said as he set his tiles on the board. "Are you planning on doing something?" His voice was light, inquisitive, and it hurt a little bit because he said 'you' and not 'us'.
"My parents are doing something with the baby; they invited us."
"What are they doing?"
"I don't know; I tuned them out pretty quickly. I'm sure trick-or-treating was involved. I can't really stomach being around them for too long though."
"Why?"
"It's kind of nauseating; they're so in love." I scowled at the board. Being around them just reminded me of what I didn't have.
"Oh." His voice was surprised, and hurt.
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"I thought you might have another reason for not wanting to go."
"Like what?"
"Nothing."
"No, not 'nothing'. What?"
"I wasn't invited."
"Oh." I suddenly realized I wasn't the only one who was hurting here; that I really didn't have a reason to be. "We can't trick-or-treat, not around here anyway. The Dead Breakfast Club would sort of ruin that. Besides I wasn't sure you cared that much; it is your one day of freedom. I wasn't sure if you'd want to spend it with Emma and I."
"Why wouldn't I?"
"Your thing with her, it's about me."
"No it's not, you just think it is." His tone was harsh and his eyes hard behind the fringe of hair that hung down around them. "I could have let her leave."
I sat watching him, apprehensive.
"If she left who would you have run to for comfort?" Even if I hated to admit it I knew he was right. "I'm not going to lie and say that at first I wanted to be her friend because it was a way to get you back, but once I was around you two I realized how much a part of you she was, and vice-versa." He leaned back on his hands, looking at me appraisingly, sizing me up. "It would have been a lot easier to let her leave if the only thing I wanted was you. Maybe if you stopped believing the worst of me you would have seen that."
I wanted to snap that it was hard to believe anything other than the worst since he was always living up to that until I realized he wasn't, not anymore anyway. "What do you want?"
He blushed. Actually fucking blushed before he ducked his face so I couldn't see it. "I love her because she's a part of you, but I love just her too." He said in an embarrassed voice.
"It's her first Halloween; I want to do something special." I laid out some tiles on the board, relieving the awkward tension that had descended on us.
"Like what?"
"I don't know. We'll have to do it during the day or get far enough away that your fan club can't ruin it."
"That won't be a problem, Constance leaves every year, we'll just borrow her car. We'll figure something out. Worst case scenario we'll just drive until we find something fun, which shouldn't be too hard since I've got a couple grand stashed away."
"Since when?" I goggled at him.
He shrugged. "Mrs. Cooper kept it hidden in a purse in the back of the closet. I made sure it wasn't there when they came to pack up their shit."
"Why didn't you tell me?"
"I wanted to surprise you." He said like it was nothing, but he looked pleased with himself because I was.
We finished three games in silence, and I lost to him every time I was so distracted by what he said to me, and the fact that he'd been planning for the future even if he hadn't told me about it. When we finished I laid across the bed, trying to work out the kink in my back from sitting so long on the floor. "Goodnight." Tate said as he picked up the game and headed out the door.
"Tate?" I could see him vibrating with nervousness in the doorway. "It makes a difference to me, that you're trying."
He hesitated for a moment before he spoke. "I love you." He said it like it was an explanation and affirmation in one before slinking out the door quietly. Love you too I thought to myself after he'd gone.
I was watching Pat and Travis in the backyard out the attic window. They had dug some rusty, ancient clippers out of the garage and were trying to tame the jungle that the backyard had become since The Cooper's had stopped paying the gardeners. I kinda liked it in its wild state, but when you've got nothing else to do you become anal retentive about the most inconsequential shit.
We still had a week before Halloween and it was hot enough outside doing manual labor that they'd both stripped down to the waist as they worked. I could see Chad lazily watching them on the back patio, holding a glass of white wine in his hand. He kept throwing bitch faces over the fence to where Constance was watching the men work just as lasciviously.
"Think your mom will be over later." I threw over my shoulder to Tate who was on the floor with Emma, rolling the ball back and forth to Beau.
"Great." He deadpanned.
I kept my eyes on the scene below. There was a pile of greenery in the middle of the yard, and I wondered what they were going to do with it; no one had paid the trash bill either. It seemed kind of stupid; if they were going to keep paying the electric and gas bill why not the trash and gardeners? They couldn't know we'd get anymore more use out of the former than the latter. I kind of liked the idea of living with candles for light, not so much the idea of cold showers though.
I was so zoned out worrying about what would happen when the house eventually changed hands again and what that would mean for Emma that I didn't notice the minor argument going on behind me until Emma's voice reached that shrill, tired-and-on-the-verge-of-a-tantrum level. "No! I don't want to. I want to stay and play with Beau!" She said loudly and defiantly, and I turned to find Tate looking from her to me in a complete state of shock and totally out of his depth.
He'd never had to deal with her refusing him anything, and the fact that she wasn't always going to do as she was told with a smile on her face was fucking with his world view. "Emma!" I said sharply, and she turned to face me, looking contrite. She scuffed her shoe against the bare wood floor. "I don't wanna take a nap."
"Do you want to play tag later?" She nodded, looking down at her feet. "Then you'll take a nap, won't you?" She nodded again. She followed me silently to her room, clambering up on the bed, pouting the whole time as I took her shoes off. "And don't call for Margaret and Angie or anyone else." I said sternly and she rolled over, putting her back to me in a fit of petulance.
I led Tate out by the hand since he seemed too stunned by her outburst to do anything other than stand there stupidly, sitting him down on my bed. "You look like you're regretting your decision to kill her." I said lightly and his head whipped around, his eyes terrified by my flippancy and I knew I'd hit closer to the mark than he'd like to admit. "You shouldn't be."
"I wasn't."
"Yes you were." I teased and he looked horrified. "Stop it. You've seen her have tantrums before, with me. She's five, it's going to happen. If anything, it's a good thing."
"How's that?"
"She knows you love her. She's been so good for you because she was worried you didn't like her; she was trying to win you over. Now she knows you still will love her even if she misbehaves."
"Really?" His voice was full of wonder.
"Really." I smiled at him.
"You're really a good mom, you know that right?" I grimaced and shook my head. It was too weird to think of myself in those terms. "No, Vi, you are." He said emphatically. "You barely have to raise your voice with her when she gets like that. Constance would have beat my ass if I pulled that shit."
"Mothers who eat their young are better than Constance."
"It doesn't change the fact that you're good with her."
I leaned back against the headboard. "So Halloween? We've got a week to figure something out." I tried to distract him. He leaned back on his elbows casually, and we both sat there picking our brains, discarding a dozen ideas between us. The biggest obstacle was that we just didn't know what was going on in the outside world. The city outside the gates was like a foreign land and we were ignorant of what it offered.
Tate was flat on his back muttering to himself when he suddenly looked at me. "Disneyland. It's far enough away, and even if they show up there they won't be let in looking like they do."
I didn't even have time to respond before an excited shriek pierced the air and my door, which had been cracked open, banged noisily against the wall as Emma threw it open and ran into the room, jumped on the bed, and sat in front of my vibrating with excitement.
"Can we really go to Disneyland for Halloween mommy?" She was bouncing up and down, looking from me to Tate, who was doubled over gasping for breath.
"What?" Was my bewildered reply.
"Please, please, please can we go to Disneyland for Halloween mommy?"
"Sure, Em, if that's what you want."
"I do!" She squealed and threw her arms around my neck, nearly choking me.
I looked over at Tate who was curled in on himself. "Are you okay?"
"She kneed me in the junk." He ground out, but he still smiled... eventually.
When Tate had sufficiently recovered we started the promised game of tag, Emma disappearing right before our eyes like a Chesire Cat, huge smile spread across her face. I pushed myself up off the to give chase, but before I could Tate pulled me against him, holding me tightly as a small smile pushed up the dimples in his cheeks.
I let him, because he was the only person I could share this with; the only one who wouldn't judge me for being happy that she was dead and I was her mom now. It was our own quiet celebration.
Halloween dawned sunny and mild and Emma was so excited she woke me up by jumping up and down on the bed. "Wake up mommy!" She exclaimed as I rolled over, throwing an arm across my face.
"No. Still sleepy." I teased her, and I felt her little hands gripping my arm and tugging it away as she chanted wake up, wake up, wake up. I rubbed the sleep out of my eyes, and sat up. "Where's Tate?" If I was going to suffer sleep deprivation so was he.
"I don't know, he left forever ago. He took me downstairs to help Grandma Vivien put up decorations while he went shopping." She trilled out as she pulled me out of bed.
Once I got her dressed for the day I sent her back downstairs so I could do the same. I was halfway through getting dressed when Tate walked in and stood shell-shocked in the doorway because I was only wearing a skirt and bra. "Sorry." He muttered, but didn't take his eyes off me.
"Stop looking at my tits." I smirked.
"Stop showing them off." He sounded like his tongue was swollen in his mouth, and I liked that I still could have that effect on him. He snapped out of it when I pulled my shirt on. "I brought home coffee." He lifted up the cup of Starbuck's proudly, like he'd gone to South America and harvested the beans himself.
I took it from his hands gratefully. "I love you." I said with a moan after my first sip before handing it back to him and digging around behind the dresser where I'd stashed my nanny money.
"Jesus." Tate hissed. "You have, what? Ten thousand dollars here?"
"A little over nine actually. But five hundred a week, plus bonuses for the nights they went out... it adds up when you only have one day a year to spend it. Oh yeah, and when they were in San Diego they doubled my pay for those three days since I had to stay around the clock."
Tate watched me sullenly as I counted a thousand out. "You're not going to need all that." His voice was a little offended. It was kinda cute. "I have plenty for this Halloween; save that for next year."
"Just in case." I shrugged, shoving it in my bag and putting the rest back where it belonged. One last check to make sure we had everything we'd need and we went downstairs, collecting Emma on the way out the door; she was thrumming with excitement as we buckled her into the backseat and drove away from the Murder House for our one day of freedom.
We blended in well with the crowds once we got there, looking a little younger than we should maybe, but not so young as to be unbelievable. Mostly it was parents with kids about Emma's age since Halloween fell on a school day this year. I had never been to Disneyland before, so I was watching just as wide-eyed as Emma as we rode the tram to the front gates, Tate's arm slung around my shoulders as Emma sat on my lap.
Once we were inside we rented a stroller for when Emma got tired later and let her lead us around and pick out the rides. The entire place was bedecked in Mickey Mouse shaped pumpkins and fake spiderwebs even though the Halloween party wasn't supposed to start until after dark.
We went to Neverland first in a flying ship, then Wonderland on the back of a pink caterpillar. She loved the Alice in Wonderland ride so much we bought her the costume for later when she'd get to trick-or-treat in the park. We rode on Casey Jr.'s circus train and took a spin in a Teacup before she drug us to Small World. Tate smiled at me sympathetically over her head when we got stuck in a pile-up of boats and spent twenty unmoving minutes being subjecting to creepy singing puppets.
A crazy ride through the English countryside to Toad Hall, a boat through Storybook Land and we moved to another area of the park, stopping at the petting zoo hidden away in a corner. Emma was thrilled with being able to pet goats and sheep; all the barnyard animals she'd only seen in books because no one had taken her to a petting zoo before. She was so fond of a white goat with black tipped ears that she kissed its nose and waved to it when we left.
We walked slowly, enjoying the relative emptiness of the park. "A lot has changed." Tate said, looking around.
"How long has it been since you've been here?"
"I was fourteen, my junior high came here for graduation, all the junior high's did. So... thirty years? Something like that. Splash Mountain." He pointed to the ride we were passing "Wasn't even open yet. Everyone was really excited for it though, I remember that." We crested a small hill and there was a huge white mansion. "That's the Haunted Mansion." Tate smiled at me, he knew I was looking forward to it. The irony was too good to pass up.
"Later. I want to wait until it's dark out."
"Is it really haunted?" Emma asked excitedly.
Tate scooped her up in his arms. "Of course it's haunted, Em. There are nine hundred and ninety-nine ghosts living there."
"How do they all fit?"
"It's a lot bigger than our house."
After a ride to the Hundred Acre Woods Tate insisted we go on Pirates of the Caribbean, even though it was early afternoon already and I was more inclined to get lunch first.
"Like the movie!" Emma exclaimed as she walked between us, one hand in mine, the other in Tate's. He looked at me quizzically.
"They made it into a movie; three or four actually, last I knew."
We were once again floating along in boat, and Tate pointed over the side, where a restaurant bordered the artificial shore. "We're going to eat lunch over there, Em." He smiled at her, before looking up at me. "I finally get to take your mommy out for a nice meal." He added quietly, and I avoided meeting his eye by looking a pitch black gaping hole that was slowly drawing closer; each boat in front of us disappearing in the roar of water and screams.
"Tate." I said warily.
"It's fine. Little drop."
Too soon we were descending down a hidden ramp in a rush of air before landing safely in another river of water. Emma was giggling, relieving me of the fear that she'd be scared to tears by it. We floated through Port Royal and Tortuga, Emma gleefully singing along to the animatronic pirates as they pillaged villages and shot at each other.
We emerged into a maze of the Disney approximation of New Orleans' French Quarter, and Tate guided us over The Blue Bayou restaurant, sitting Emma on his lap and making funny faces at her while we waited for a table. It was beautiful nighttime landscape inside, lit by candles on the table and hanging from the ceiling. Everything felt muffled, far away; you'd never know you were in an amusement park in the middle of sunny Southern California. It was a place that made you want to speak in muted voices for fear of breaking the spell.
Tate dissolved into paroxysms of ecstasy with the first bite of his Monte Cristo sandwich. "God, I forgot how good those are." He said, savoring every bite. I had to admit, they were amazing; who knew dipping a turkey, ham, and swiss cheese sandwich in batter, deep frying it, and dusting it with powdered sugar would be so good?
I looked around as I ate, enjoying the space and it's piped in music of frogs croaking while fake fireflies danced on the ceiling. It was nice, romantic without being cliche, and I could see why he wanted to bring me here. But the best part was that he didn't make a big deal of it; we talked and joked and doted on Emma just like we would if we were at a McDonald's.
After lunch we took the pontoon boat over to Tom Sawyer island and let Emma run through the caves that dotted it until she got tired, finding a secluded corner with a bench and plenty of shade eventually. She didn't want to take a nap, but we wouldn't be home for hours and I knew she'd need it, so I made her sit in the rented stroller and 'rest'.
I let him drape an arm across my shoulders and hold me there as we watched her sleep, the ducks in the man-made river quacking in protest every time the big paddle boat went by. She woke with a yawn and a stretch ready to direct us around the park like a little princess, telling us imperiously that she wasn't tired and didn't need the stroller anymore. We kept it anyway.
The rest of the day passed in a blur. Emma didn't seem to tire, never getting enough of the rides. As the hours wore on Tate seemed to grow more affectionate, or maybe just more bold in his affections. He kept a hand against my back as I pushed the stroller through the park and an arm snaked around me as we waited in lines. I didn't mind. I knew he was happy, just like I was, that we could have a day untainted by sadness, or fear, or anger. I just hoped he realized today was different, special; tomorrow the same shit that haunted us would still be there.
When the sun started to sink below the horizon I ducked into a bathroom to dress Emma up as Alice, her costume more Tim Burton than classic Disney, but I liked that. This, more than any other part of our day, was about her. I wanted her to have a special Halloween, but I wanted her to do the same things every kid gets to do too. From what she told me she never got to celebrate it before; her parents were too busy partying to do anything with her, and her last nanny thought Halloween was 'the Devil's birthday', whatever that meant.
She was radiating happiness when we walked out of the bathroom, and for the first time ever I felt proud, like a mom, as I watched her. I couldn't stop looking at her, how happy she was, walking between Tate and I as the Halloween festivities kicked into high gear. The park was lit up eerily with orange and purple lights as banks of phantom fogs drifted around.
We went all around the park, following the Trick or Treat Trails until her bag was filled to the brim, stopping occasionally so she could meet Donald Duck dressed as a pirate or let Tinkerbell sprinkle fairy dust over her. Finally, when we were on the correct side of the park again, we got in line for the Haunted Mansion, only having to wait a few minutes before we were ushered into the eerie southern mansion.
I picked Emma up so she'd be able to see more than people's legs as we entered the first stage of the ride, a room that seemed to stretch the longer you stood in it. The grim looking attendant shouted for everyone to clear the center of the room and Tate wrapped his arms around us, pulling me against his chest as he moved us back to the wall.
I should have been paying more attention to the ride, considering I'd never been on it before, but the only thing I could register was the way my spine fitted against his chest as he held me. How his breath turned from gentle to ragged next to my ear at the contact. I closed my eyes, feeling like I was melting into him as he held me there. And then there was a loud crash of thunder and screams, and my eyes flew open just in time to see a skeleton illuminated in its flash, suspended from the ceiling.
I hadn't even noticed the lights had gone out until they came back on and the doors slid open to reveal a long hallway lined with pictures that seemed to move and morph as you looked at them. We squeezed into a Doom Buggy and drifted our way through the darkened halls of the great mansion looking down on a ghostly dinner party, listening to Madame Leota's sinister predictions, and taking in a graveyard party before we were faced with mirrors that reflected hitchhiking ghosts, making Emma scoot onto my lap to make room for our portly, blue toned guest.
We trooped back to the center of the park for the big finale, the fireworks show. Jack Skellington's face rose above the castle like a giant moon, his dog Zero flying around before the first fireworks burst orange and purple against the night sky. Emma watched with rapt attention as the fireworks bloomed in the sky, flashing us in a rainbow of colors, and covering her ears when they burst in a rapid tattoo but smiling. After the last boom her face fell. "It's over?" She pulled away from Tate to look at his face, suddenly sad.
He nodded and she nestled her face against his neck as his hand found mine to lead us out of the park, and back to the car. She was asleep by the time we got there, and we settled her in the back seat, covering her with a blanket. It was late and we were weary, and as we felt our day of freedom coming to a close it was like the nets of our problems were closing in on us again, subtly.
"Do you feel like going home yet?" Tate asked, staring straight ahead the whole time, nervous.
"No."
"How do you like your fries? Crispy?"
"Yeah."
Tate leaned out the window to the speaker. I caught a few words here and there, 'animal style' and 'well done' among them. We waited in the long line of cars stretching out to into the street despite the late hour. As soon as the cardboard tray was through the window he shoved a handful of fries in his mouth and pulled into a parking spot. He was watching me avidly as I took my first bite. "Oh my god."
"Yeah." He said around a mouthful of food. "See why I come here every Halloween?"
I would have replied, but I was too busy stuffing my face to speak. For a short time there was nothing but the sounds of the paper wrapped around our food crinkling, chewing, and Emma's soft snoring in the backseat. "That's the best cheeseburger I've ever had."
Tate smiled at me. "It is. I don't care what anybody says In & Out Burgers are the best." He rubbed his stomach appreciatively before reaching for a tray of fries covered in cheese, grilled onions, and thousand island dressing. I looked at it suspiciously as he held the tray out to me. "Try them." He urged and I finally relented with a roll of my eyes.
Two bites in I took the tray from him and slapped at his hand when he wanted more. "Have the 'well done' ones." He groaned and I relented. "Jesus, how come I never heard of this place?"
"Because you're not from here." He said simply. "But they're all over Southern California, and to someone who grew up here In & Out is like a religion and we're all devotees." I watched over his shoulder as a steady stream of people came away from the small building clutching paper bags and trays like junkies scoring their fix. "Can I say something without pissing you off?"
My eyes drifted back to find him watching me. "I guess."
"This, us, it's easier with her here." He nodded over his shoulder to Emma.
"Maybe." I hedged.
"No, not 'maybe', it is." He said firmly. "She's your perfect excuse you know?"
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"She gives you a reason to keep me around but not be with me."
"That's bullshit." I snapped, digging around in my bag for my cigarettes and lighting one.
"Please, if you didn't want me around I wouldn't be, and don't tell it's punishment; we both know if you really wanted to punish me you'd to 'go away' again." I glared at him. "And every time I try to remind you that you can have both of us all I hear in response is that there's too much going on with her, and you can't think about anything else. That might have been true a couple months ago but it's not anymore."
"I don't want to talk about this."
"Of course you don't. Just remember that you spent today with both of us, and you were happy." I felt like putting my cigarette out on his face. Instead I flicked it out the window and crawled in the backseat with Em.
The ride home was tense and silent, and when we exited the last freeway I crouched down on the floor just in case his fan club was hanging around the house. "What are you going to do?"
"Run; lead them away from the car and house so you can get her inside." His voice was clipped.
I remembered that first Halloween, when I thought he was alive, and how scared I was when they chased after him. "What were you shopping for this morning?" I asked, trying to dispel the nervous knot in my stomach.
"Christmas and her birthday; I wanted to make sure she had something to unwrap."
"You didn't have to do that."
"I know, but I wanted to."
Before I could respond I heard his harsh inhale as the car slowed, and his muttered shit. He took a harsh turn and slammed on the brakes, jostling me around, before he cut the engine and hopped out. I waited, hardly daring to breathe as his footsteps disappeared and I heard yelling, first his voice, than others, before I heard people running away. I raised up, looking out the window to find myself in Constance's driveway.
They were long gone as I walked down the silent street. Emma stirred awake, pulling herself away from my shoulder to look around, bewildered. "Where's daddy?" She asked innocently, and I gawked at her, before telling her he had to go do something. Once I got her in bed I retreated to my own room, sitting heavily on my bed as my head swam with everything that had happened, trying to cudgel itself into accepting things I didn't want to.
It was nearly dawn when I heard footsteps coming down the hall and watched through the open door as Tate looked in Emma's room, watching her sleep from the doorway. I called out his name softly, and he turned following my voice into my room and sitting on the bed next to me. I reached out, taking his hand in mine, and he looked down at it; shocked that for the first time I'd touched him instead of him touching me.
"You were right... about Emma. Her being here... I've been using it as a way to avoid what happened between us. It's more than that though. I worried that if I had you again I wouldn't need her, and I couldn't bear to hurt her that way." I sighed, squeezing my fingers gently around his. "But that's the answer too. I love her, and I can't hurt her, and it's not a choice between you; I love you both, differently and intensely."
I pulled against his hand, drawing his face closer to mine, so I could reach up and trace its curves and planes. "You protect the things you love without thinking, it's instinctual. The way you protected me from those freaks who tried to kill me... the way you protected me and Emma during the earthquake. I don't think you were wrong to... make sure Emma stayed here." I couldn't force the word 'kill' off my tongue, not now. "I think she was meant to be mine, and when it wasn't enough that the house pushed me out to show me that, you did. I can't keep punishing you for what you did for Nora when I'm no better." He moved his lips to protest, but I placed my fingers over them. "No, it's true."
His eyes were watching me closely, boring into mine with an intensity that was familiar and missed. "When you talk about Emma though you always say that she's mine... don't you want her to be yours too?" The air between us was perfectly still as he looked down at me, his hesitancy conveying his sincerity.
"I do." He said softly. "But she doesn't want me like she wants you."
I frowned, not wanting to give away how wrong he was because I needed to know. "Does that change things?"
"No."
"Tate." I said carefully, choosing my words with care because this was the most important thing I'd ever said. "It's not just me anymore. If you want me, she's part of that. And the things between us... there are going to be days when it's painful, it's not going to be magically perfect. I want you though; I want the future to be 'us' and not 'you and me and Emma'."
I waited, hardly daring to breath, as his silence stretched on, his expression closed off before he dropped his gaze and I felt his body shudder around the sob he was trying to suppress. I slid my hands up to his shoulders, guiding him, so that I could lay behind him with my arms around him, holding him through the pain of pieces of him that had been broken fitted back together.
I pressed my lips against the back of his neck, murmuring I love you against his skin; his hand tightening around mine in reply. I let my eyes close, preferring to feel him against me. His muscles were tense, stretched tight over his frame as he laid there. I could feel his tears dripping down onto my hand that was wrapped in his, his lips brushed against my knuckles over and over.
He jolted back into me and opened my eyes to see Emma standing next to the bed, looking worried, her hand outstretched. "Daddy?" She asked questioningly, alarmed by his crying. He pushed himself up, wiping at his wet cheeks before fitting his hands under her arms and lifting her onto the bed between us. "Why are you crying?" Her voice sounded panicked.
His lips pushed up into a watery smile. "I'm like you, I get cranky and start crying when I'm tired."
"Do not." She said crossley, as she settled between us, but he tickled her side, and making her smile before she sighed and closed her eyes to go back to sleep. His fingers twined through mine where they rested on Emma's back because life goes on even in the face of tragedy, and now we had something good between us that we could focus on, on the bad days; a bridge over an ocean of pain to keep us from drowning in it.
Notes, notes, lots of notes:
- I was fascinated by the idea that Violet would fall in love in the same manner that Tate fell for her, just in a different way. That someone could come into the house that was meant to be hers, and eventually because of it she'd get a new understanding of Tate and the struggles he went through, and through that she'd start to forgive him. For me that has always been what this story was about; even though there's an 'original character', at its heart this is a Violate story.
- The things that Tate and Ben say to her are often times the most honest assessment of what's going on because for once she's not being the brutally honest mirror for the people around her. To a degree she acknowledges the morality of her desires as wrong, but only to a degree; there are things that she's unwilling to accept because it compromises the position of power from being the moralistic one, until she can't ignore or dismiss them anymore.
Moving on to lighter subjects...
- The Secret Garden hugely influenced this. Emma, but especially her parents were based on Mary Lennox and her parents (if you really wanted to get into it Violet and Tate show aspects of Martha & Dickon).
- Disneyland. The Haunted Mansion... I mean how could I not? I also thought it was nice to flesh out Tate's history a little bit because most Junior High Schools in Los Angeles do in fact go there for graduation. In & Out Burger was another 'had to do it' because we Angelino's are pretty opinionated and loyal about it.
- I'm not even going to lie, I might come back to this fic at some point because I loved writing it so much. I'm having a really hard time getting it out of my head so it might be sooner rather than later, but I'd like to finish a few others things I've got in the works, including a fourth chapter to Touching From a Distance, which is started, but far from finished. And I'd still like to get back to Beat The Devil's Tattoo and expand that a bit at some point.
So... yeah. I hope everyone enjoyed this as much as I enjoyed writing it, and as always reviews are loved and appreciated.