If I Could Only Find a Note to Make You Understand
After the family was gone, Stevie went to find Cheerio, but Bukowski was outside of her bedroom door. "What are you doing?" Stevie asked, suspiciously.
"A job," he said.
"Why are you posted outside of her door?"
"Evans - mind your business. Go have a fruit cocktail or something." Stevie stormed away, around the corner, but then just peeked sporadically to see when she would resurface. Eventually, Brody came out of the room and Stevie found himself approaching him, "What the fuck are you doing still coming here?"
"Giving back," Brody said.
Bukowski ordered, "Take a walk, Evans!" Then escorted Brody out, apologizing for Stevie's shitty behavior.
Meanwhile, Stevie barged into Cheerio's room and saw her in a short bathrobe, admiring her lady parts with a mirror and she jumped, startled and dropped it, fumbling aimlessly not to drop it. But, it didn't break, when she did. "Damn it, Cornflake! You scared the shit out of me AND almost gave me 7 years bad luck! You could've gotten me put on suicide watch." She set her mirror in her drawer, and grabbed some clothes.
He stood outside of the bathroom, red in the face as he tried to find the right words. "Please, don't move on with him. Anybody but him. Please."
"I wasn't planning on it." She got dressed to go back out of the room.
"This is the second time since he left that he's come to see you, and you still keep in touch with him."
"Because we're friends."
"Not all friends get to have Bukowski on door guard while they spend quality time inside the room."
"All mine do. Bukowski is easy to buy. Surette is Mr. No Nonsense. Bukowski is human. He gets the people need a little privacy sometimes…" That was exactly what Bukowski had said whenever he agreed to allow Stevie and Pendleton to…
"What were you and Brody doing?"
"I don't think that you'll be able to deal with that information."
"Whatever I imagine will be worst."
"No, I don't think…"
"Did he eat you out? Did he toss your salad? Did he face fuck you?" He peeked into the room, unintentionally seeing her in just her bra and panties - matching, pink, of course, glorious against her skin… She had freckles… Like everywhere… He quickly got out of the doorway and leaned against the wall as she finally answered.
"WHAT? Gross. Face fuck? That sounds painful. God. He knows that they don't allow razors here, so we made arrangements for him to come and help me wax! His company makes all kinds of products that can be safely allowed in spaces like this, but I never pull the strips properly."
"Wax? Like… your legs?"
"And stuff."
"Your pussy?"
"It's been so long since she didn't have an afro!"
"Oh! My! God! THIS IS WORST THAN ANYTHING I COULD IMAGINE!" He banged the back of his head against the wall trying to shake the image of that out of it.
"HOW?"
"Because you trusted a sex addict to come over for no purpose other than to give him access to your pussy and not do something sexual with it! And… he did it! You can't tell me that doesn't subconsciously drive a girl like you wild. You were checking it out when I came in. How wet was it?"
"That's out of line."
"If you ever asked me to wax you, that is not what I would do! I'd be slurping up that afro pussy, letting them pubes exfoliate my nose and shit! I'd stick my tongue all in your butthole and slurp on that too. There is no way you could open your legs in front of me, naked, and not have me tryin' to make you cum all in my face! And not only was he able to not do that, but with his affliction, too? You know that made you feel some kind of way, and yes - that IS worse than actually having some pointless face-riding session!"
"Cornflake… You have to stop talking like that."
"Because it's gross?"
"Because you told me that you have too much going on." She came out of her bedroom, blushing tremendously and avoiding eye contact with him as she gathered her notepad and teddy bear.
Stevie recalled, "You said he was the most beautiful man that you ever saw. You called him an Adonis. You said he was the Vitruvian Man, but with better hair. You said that you couldn't imagine anybody being hotter..."
"You pretended not to hear any of that, so I kept upping the ante, hoping that I'd get you to care again."
"I heard and I remember. So… Please, not him, okay?"
"It's not like that. I'm not interested in anybody else."
"You're still interested in me?"
"Who else would I be interested in? You're my white whale."
He rolled his eyes and took a handful of hair, suddenly frustrated, "You ain't read that long boring ass book!"
"Ugh, so. Did you?"
"Yeah! I had to!"
"You think you're smarter than everybody, just because you actually read books that other people only know from pop culture references! You are so fucking annoying!"
"Stop being a poser, and you won't be offended when you get called out!"
"Take your lover's quarrel to the common room," Bukowski said, returning with folded arms.
Cheerio asked, "Bukowski, did you read Moby Dick?"
"Naw. Nobody actually reads that. They just talk about it like they did, because they've heard commentary on it over the years."
"I read it!" Stevie fussed.
"Well, you're lame; so that doesn't surprise me," Bukowski said.
Stevie and Cheerio headed for the common room, still fussing about whether or not he actually did read the book, whether or not it mattered, and whether or not it had to do with what they were initially talking about. Dani and Myron both rolled their eyes when they arrived, but both Stevie and Cheerio sat down, fuming, folded arms and huffing. Myron asked, "Are… You still being him? Because, you left your costume behind…" Stevie flinched at Myron, like he was going to hit him and Myron let out a shrieking scream and put his hands up in defense.
"WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU?" Dani and Cheerio both asked him at the same time.
"I'm fucked up," Stevie said, then got up and left.
"Still terrorizing the minorities, I see," Bukowski said. Stevie clenched his fists and glared at him. "Still threatening to ruin her life, too?"
Stevie stormed off and Surette asked, "We need to sedate Evans?"
"Naw. He's just trying to have a pissing contest. Had to remind him that he's on my turf."
.
Stevie's arms were folded and he marched around the office, nervously fussing. Pepper wasn't going to sit him down, but she asked him to be mindful that his behavior could be seem as a potential threat, if he continued it. He shakily sat down. "Stevie, it is perfectly normal for you to have some new questions about past events. That is the whole point of unpacking - to see what you have stored away in your baggage and to put it wherever it belongs."
"Okay, but have you checked inside of my goddamned baggage?" He scoffed and shook his head, "I got abuse that I didn't even know was supposed to be abuse. I got fucked up shit that I didn't even know was fucked up. How am I supposed to know where this stuff goes?"
"Have you ever considered that maybe you don't have a place for it? You know, some things that are unpacked just need to be thrown out."
He looked both surprised and a but afraid. He finally sat down and wondered, "How do I throw stuff out?"
She smiled sympathetically. "It depends on how heavy it is. If it's something light but useless, all it takes is your will to want it gone and convincing yourself that it means nothing to you. But if it's heavy, it may take longer, because you might need support, enhancement, or growth in strength to even be able to dig it out. That's one of my purposes to help you with that. But you also have family that has expressed to us that they're very supportive and want to help however they can. You also seem to have friends who may be willing to use a bit of their strength when you can't fight your own. I think at least Cheri values your friendship…"
"That doesn't make sense though, right? You know… if I were her, I would never support someone like me. Sure… I'm trying to be a more functional person, but I grew up enveloped in hate and I don't know that I've been fundamentally changed. I definitely have gone through some changes but not complete enough where I think I should be trusted around her. I always worry that I'm gonna do something or say something that is gonna indefinitely drive her completely away. That terrifies me. I'm not used to getting close to anybody. Now I've allowed myself to do it and - I don't know how to keep up this momentum. And someday, she'll see through my artificial and superficial development, and just see the asshole who called her a nigger the first chance he got. Now, I would hurt anybody who ever dared to call her that, but I feel like that doesn't change that I did it, already. That I used that word against her, especially when she was so nice to me."
"Do you ever think about how that word may have affected other people that you used it against, too?"
He fumed, "Now, I guess I will!"
"It's reasonable to consider how anything you say might affect anyone that you say it to. You should endeavor to think before you say something instead of after the damage is done."
"Okay, okay. I see that being a future solution, but I need to figure out how to rectify the shit I've already said."
"I'm sorry that nobody ever taught you to think before you speak. But, there are simply some things that we say that can cause damage that we can't fix. It'll be up to you to speak with whoever you want to settle things with and let them determine whether they forgive you or not."
"And what - if she forgives me, then I just get over it? I just…" he shrugged his shoulders and shook his head, "Go on with my life?"
"Unless there is something else that's holding you back. Do you still have space in your journal?"
"Yeah," he reached for the spiral and opened it.
"Here are some questions that you should ask yourself: What is it that is holding me back from forgiving myself? Who do I want to forgive me? What would I say if I had the opportunity to win that forgiveness?" He wrote the questions at the top of three different pages, to give himself space to write down his answers, after he thought about them, of course. "Do you have any entries that you would like me to read?"
"No. Right now, I'm still working some things out by myself."
"Well, since you were so open with me today, I won't pressure you to let me read anything."
"I could let you read one of my poems, but it might make you blush."
She shook her head, "I think I have enough spice in the emotions you're willing to speak about."
"Most of my poems are about unrequited sexual desire."
"We can discuss it next time, if you want."
.
Cheerio waited patiently for Stevie to come out of his session. She had been trying to get to him all day, but he was depressed and dodging her. He skipped class and was allowed to remain in his room. Whenever she tried to check on him, Nurse Penny sent her away from the door.
His former friend, Kyle Giardi had been found guilty and sentenced to death for killing his mother. Susie Q., Cornflake Sr, and Free Nazi were on the news - with Free Nazi talking to the press about how they were relieved that some portion of that night was over and that justice was found.
"Our family still has a lot of pain to work through, but at least we can have closure on this particular issue."
Cheerio wondered if Stevie felt like he would have any closure.
He had mentioned the triplets a lot. They were some of his closest associates. Hank was a friend of the family. And in one night, all of that had been destroyed and Stevie's future forever altered. He came out of the office and froze when he saw her.
"Not gonna bother you! I wrote you a letter. You can read it, or not, and I will leave you alone, since you seem to want to be alone." She gave him a letter that she had put in an envelope and doodled on.
He smiled softly and sadly. "Thanks." she nodded and went to leave. "Do you think… Can you hang out a while?"
"There's literally nothing more important to me today than you and what you need…" he grabbed her into a hug and she paused, too shocked to respond. He let go and started walking. She followed.
"Do you want me to grab Dani?"
"No. I try not to talk to her about mom stuff. I feel like you're more nurturing with my mom stuff."
"Awwww."
They settled in his room and he took out some photos. They could only keep so many, but he usually stashed them in different journals and things, knowing that if he was behaving that they wouldn't search or anything.
"At one time family photos didn't include Sam. Now, they don't include me… or her. Makes sense, we were always the two least loved there."
"It happens to look like there's a lot of love there for everybody. Even those beasts at your feet."
"Those beasts?"
"The boerboels ."
"I figured that you were referring to my babies, but I'm offended by how disrespectful you are about this. Don't fucking play around with Bruiser, Crusher & Smasher!"
"Gross. Why those names?"
"They're guard dogs. I trained them myself!"
"To do tricks?"
"To attack."
"On command?"
"Little this, little that." There was no way he was about to tell her that his dogs were trained to attack darker skin on sight, in addition to on command. Ugh. He had enough that he would have to answer for. Kyle's verdict and seeing Allie-Ann have emotional reactions to the coverage of it, every time she saw his face and trying to block the TV so she wouldn't have to, then the fact that he had known about the things done to her and other girls, the things like what Sam knew and did. Things that could break people. The thing that had broken her…
"This girl that used to do pageants with me was a dog enthusiast, and her talent always involved dogs. I didn't have a problem with them at first, but after we ended up in the same dressing space, God - I've hated dogs ever since..."
"What the fuck is wrong with you? What kind of a person doesn't like dogs?"
"What kind of person trains the creatures that they allegedly like to attack?"
"You aren't turning this around on me, this time! Everyone loves dogs. All colors of people. All walks of life!"
"Well, not the millions of people who suffer from pet allergies," she said.
"That's not real," he said, shaking his head.
"It can be manageable, but it DEFINITELY IS real and my first attack was the WORST!" She practically squealed.
He laughed, "Wait… This isn't you just trying to deflect an argument about being a soulless, dog-hating, degenerate? Which, I want to remind you, that you are, because even if you're allergic to dogs, you should feel robbed and cheated that you can't love on any..."
"That girl that I used to do pageants with brought a troop of Akitas that she did an interactive trick performance with as her talent."
"My brother's gal has an Akita! And a German Shepherd."
"I will never go anywhere near her. Those are two of the worst ones for my allergies, and I have hated Akitas SINCE this girl brought them into our prep area and I thought I was going to die! Mind you, I didn't know that I was allergic to dogs. I had never been around a dog that closely. Rhadja thinks animals are filthy and dogs in particular require too much validation."
"Why doesn't that surprise me?"
"It surprised me that you not only cared for but trained three dogs, if we're just going there."
"Okay. So, this girl brought the dogs in and what? You almost died? Justify dog hate to a dog owner. Hint: You can't. We're all gonna blame you and have no respect for you. Did you almost die, though?"
"No. Nothing that severe, though I broke out in hives, my chest, neck and face, my throat was itching and swelled up some, my eyes were so irritated and puffy, I could hardly see for well over two hours. Rhadja thought that somehow, I put on a different brand of makeup that had something that I was allergic in it. But, I have only ever used her products and had a pretty straightforward routine that I followed all of the time! The only thing that was different, was that I had played around with these dogs while I was getting ready, because her station was next to mine and they were so cute! We didn't learn that right away, though. I took some generic medicine, danced with hives and wheezing and crashed after the competition. One of the other mothers asked, just casually, "Well, you aren't allergic to animal dander, or something, are you?" First off - I had never even heard of animal dander. But, whenever Rhadja heard this question posed, she threw a fit about these dogs being allowed to be a part of the pageant and made this huge issue of whether pets were able to be considered part of an act, because they weren't props. So, there was this entire thing about whether or not we could have a partner or assistant for our performances, since the pageant was specifically for the individual. The moms were fussing while the girls were readjusting everything and just trying to make sure that my things got cleaned up and we stayed a distance away from each other that it wouldn't bother me. My next few uncontrollable run ins with dogs were mostly just sneezing and wheezing, little coughing, but not nearly as dreadful as that first time. I stay far away from them. I'm a pretty healthy girl. I work out, I have pep and energy. Allergies slow me down and make me feel improper in my chest and head. I don't like it. And unless they're service dogs, people's dogs almost always try to come up to me, and people get so damned offended when I ask them to please keep their pets away from me and under control. Nobody likes hearing that you don't consent to their goddamn dogs being all on you! And if it licks me, I'm gonna lose my shit. I slapped a girl because her dog licked me after she was slow to get him off of me."
"So, if we both somehow made it out of here, you wouldn't come over to my home, because I have dogs."
"No. And you wouldn't come over to mine either, for the same reason. I don't even want a strand of dog hair in my presence."
"That's harsh."
"You don't have to like it. We're not gonna be friends outside of here, anyway." He frowned. "Tell me that I'm lying. Tell me that the fan mail that you get from other people willing to take you in when you're free doesn't sound like a warm and cushy fallback when you leave here?"
He just frowned harder. He had considered it and hated saying that she was right. Instead, he just noted, "I'm not ever getting out of here, so none of it matters."
She looked sad for him, but cleared her throat and put the photo down. "I don't believe that. I think you made some mistakes and that you did things that you aren't proud of. I know that no matter how old or how normal people are - everybody makes mistakes and does things that they aren't proud of. I don't think it's fair that we're expected to feel more shame than anybody else because we're sick and have trouble functioning in the same ways. In fact, I think that the people outside ought to be the main ones who feel bad about the things that they do. They're supposed to be alright. They're supposed to be the standard. They're just as fucked up and nowhere near getting better, because admitting that there's a problem is the first step." He chuckled and pushed his photos aside to crawl over to her and rest his head on her lap. "Oh!"
He glanced up, "Is this okay?" She nodded her head and he adjusted, turning to face her, with his nose tucked in between her thighs, and laid on his belly with his arms around her waist. Her pulse accelerated and she dared to touch his hair. He took a deep breath, squeezed her tighter and made a small noise of satisfaction. His hands slid up the back of her shirt and he rubbed her back while he rested.
Bukowski peeked in and folded his arms. "The verdict finally came out from the trial of the guy who killed his mom. He just needs a friend around, right now."
The orderly sighed and asked, "Need me to monitor, Evans?"
"No!" Stevie snapped.
"Sorry about your friend," Bukowski said.
"I mean, he was hardly his friend. The motherfucker killed his mother…"
"Yeah, I just meant… whatever. I saw the way they made their case. You mom must have been some kind of saint, huh? Never did anything but love her family too much. So sad that some monster killed her like that."
Cheerio strummed Stevie's hair and said, "She was no angel, if you're trying to be slick. But, nobody deserves to just be shot and have to die in front of their kids like that. Nobody deserves to have to see it. And, I don't think he wants to talk about it." She forced a smile. Bukowski returned a forced one, too, before leaving.
"I fucking hate him."
"I noticed. You're never gonna tell me why, are you?"
Stevie changed the subject, sort of, "If we do ever get out of here, the main reason that we wouldn't be friends is because I would be scared that would make you a target." He squeezed her. "People might come after me. I don't want nobody coming after you. I want you to have all that shit that you danced about in art therapy. I don't know that you can do that and be my friend."
"Okay… But, you don't know that I can't, either." He stroked his hands across her skin and fell to sleep. Hours later, when he woke up, she was gone and he was incredibly sad. That had been literally the best sleep that he had had since he was a kid, and particularly lately, he had been having nightmares about her being hurt by the triplets, lik Allie-Ann, or like St. James' guys hurt Aphasia… He sat up and noticed that her letter was still there. She had put it on the nightstand. He didn't know how close to dinner time it was or group, or… what time it was, period. He opened her letter and noticed it smelled like her perfume.
Dear Steven James Evans,
You are a real person. You aren't some idea or some concept. You don't have to make yourself marketable or consumable. All you need to do is know that your feelings are valid and your humanity is relevant. However you're feeling about all of this stuff that is happening with your family, your old friends, whatever is happening inside of you isn't something that you have to hide from anybody or try to destroy. You should instead share what you can't handle alone and whatever you can handle alone - you don't have to do it right away, okay? Just… Take care of yourself. There are people who truly care about you and we honestly don't care what you've done. We just want you well. You have three relatives, that blind bombshell, Dani, and me… And that is more people than I've ever had in my life actually care about me at one time. If you need me, I will be around as much as this staff allows. You are so important, Cornflake. I mean that. I lost family. I've lost friends. I want you to be a new constant. Like, when you learn a new artform, or acquire a new piece of art. You're an artform and you're the artwork.
Love,
Cheri Charming Robinson, Your friend
Stevie cried and stuck it back in the envelope, then took it out and read it again. He read it a lot of times, then he started carrying it around with him.
.
Cheerio shimmied over to the table with her Thanksgiving basket that her parents sent. "Guess what I procured for the two of you for this fine holiday?" She reached into it and pulled out a small can of caviar. "With all the little fixings, or at least as closely as we can get to them in a gift basket."
Dani gasped and snatched it from her hand, "OMG! I am SO excited about this!"
Stevie shook his head, "I don't want none of that junk!"
Cheerio nodded, "Yeah, it's not the best quality, but I'm super thankful anyway, because this means that my mother must either be reading my letters or somebody is reading them and they have given them approval to send me my request!" She was so excited for possible scraps of concern from her parents.
Dani had gotten into the can and opened a bag of buttered toast crackers and dug in. "This is good!" she cheered.
"Try some, Cornflake!"
"No. That looks gross."
"You told me that you went hunting and bit a deer heart! This is a thousand times less gruesome," Dani said, digging out another cracker full.
Cheerio dug out some with a couple of her fingers and sucked it off. Dani dropped the crackers and Stevie's lip dropped. Cheerio licked her lips and nodded her head, "It's not bad for cheap stuff." She dug her two fingers into it again and extended it to Stevie. His heart was pounding and he felt like he was panting. Something about the way that she looked and that she had just fully displayed her tongue.
Dani said, in a soft whimper, "If you don't go for it, I am gonna!"
Stevie elbowed her, then leaned forward a little and let Cheerio bring her hand closer to him. He ate it off of her fingers, sucking and licking on them a little more than necessary. "Omg, this is hot," Dani whispered. "Happy Thanksgiving to Dani."
Cheerio gently pulled her fingers away, "What did you think?" She asked.
"Delicious," he breathed out, staring at her in wonder. He cleared his throat and got up, "Gotta… be right back." He rushed off and Cheerio sat down.
"He's gonna go jerk off and think about sucking your fingers."
"If he's gonna jerk off, I'm sure that he'll have other things he can think about."
"Were you tryin' to make him all hot and bothered?"
"Yeah. I'm trying to make sure that he kisses me at Midnight on New Year's Day, but you know he'd been distant worrying about those trials. Now, they're all done, so nothing should be holding him back, unless that was more lies. So, I'm gonna go for it, again. Is that stupid? That's probably stupid."
"He's the stupid one. I'd have put hickies all over your chest by now. Know that you chose the wrong one!"
"Dani… You're bi right?"
"If you are asking me if I find men and women both sexually attractive, yes. If you are asking me if I would ever in my life ever try to have a relationship with a man, no. They're so scary. They're more dangerous, statistically. Most of the abuse I've suffered was at the hands of men and I just don't prefer them. The hygiene difference alone is annoying. Then add the privilege, the entitlement, the microaggressions, and I am head over heels with being single."
"I was just wondering if… I would have anything to worry about, from you."
"Anything to worry about?"
"Do you want Cornflake?"
"Oh God, no! There have never been two more just friends people than the two of us. Go for it, Sister. Stick a titty in his mouth, next time. Do whatever you must."
.
Stacie literally brought in a turkey and fixings. Stevie was waiting, nervously, by himself. Dani and Cheerio were allowed to go see Chase (and they told him that they were gonna try to see if he was able to or willing to come back to their ward). He was really worried about what he might say, but semi-trusted that if Dani noticed him possibly suggesting anything that she might turn the convo around. All three Evanses were carrying dishes and Mercedes was latched on to Sam's arm.
They set a table and took seats. When Stacie was about to ask where Cheerio was, she and Dani appeared. She looked… off. Dani looked worried. He felt fear coursing all throughout his body. She knew. "Hey," he said, cutting them off. She frowned at him with her lip quivering. Dani shook her head and moved along. She went to the table and reintroduced herself to Stevie's family while he and Cheerio went aside.
"They… fight a lot, don't they?" Stacie asked.
"I think it's their love language."
"After literally WEEKS of me getting Dr. Pepper to talk about consent to the group?!" Cheerio said loudly. Stevie was trying to keep things low. "I can't believe I was gonna try to give you dessert tonight!" She stormed off and he lowered his head, glanced at the family, then went after her.
Dani explained, "No offense… You have a fucked up family member. I mean, all of us are, but he's… a lot. Sometimes, the fighting is Cheerio's fault. She can be a real cunt," She fixed a plate, "But, this time, Cornflake is definitely the cause. If you have other people to mold in the future, do everything completely opposite. I love him and everything, but he's absolutely defective," and left their table.
"Wow," Sam said. "Did she ever actually get invited?"
Stacie said, "I don't know, but I'll be back." She went in the same direction that Stevie and Cheerio had vanished in. She found him crying on her shoulder and her comforting him. She hid, but tried to keep spying on them. After a while, Stevie cleared his face up, with Cheerio wiping his eyes and fanning him. They headed back towards the cafeteria, and Stacie turned and dashed towards the room, too. They saw her. "You see how ridiculous she looks? That's almost as stupid as you looked trying not to be seen on Halloween."
"I was faking. I utterly wanted to be seen." They came back to the table and Cheerio explained, "I am so sorry for my outburst, earlier. If I was balanced, I wouldn't be in this place. Hope that I didn't offend anybody with my volatile stuff. Stevie was kind enough to find me and try to help me calm down." She forced a smile and Stacie raised an eyebrow. That wasn't what she had witnessed, but okay.
Stevie said, "This is Cheerio, everybody. Don't bother introducing yourselves, she will not remember anybody's single name, unless it's a part of a ship name."
"Samcedes is one of my favorites!" she cheered, sitting down.
"HOW?" Stevie asked.
"I watch TV. I see interviews," she said, looking at him like he was clueless. "But, I haven't seen you in as many appearances, Miss Mercedes."
Mercedes turned her head towards the voice and nodded, "Yeah, it gets to be a bit much, traveling with my condition."
She gasped, "Are you preggers?"
"She's blind! You know that!"
"I didn't know that blind people couldn't travel!" Cheerio defended.
Mercedes said, "I can, but it gets hard when it's frequent. I'm just comfortable in my usual surroundings."
"Awwww," Cheerio said.
Stacie asked, "Want me to make you a plate. Your best friend already did." Cheerio looked in front of Stevie, wondering what Susie Q was talking about.
"Dani told them that she was your best friend," Stevie said. Cheerio cackled. "RIGHT?" He said.
Cheerio sniffled, "Oh my God. She's precious. I do love her, very much. Cornflake is my best friend. Then Myron. Then Dani. And… I don't know… Those are the only friends I have now." She looked frustrated for a moment and Stevie quickly said, "I'll fix you a plate, since I know what you eat." He got up and Stacie held her hands out. "Oh, yeah - I should have told you, she ain't gonna eat none of this. Too much butter, too much fat, too much everything that's good. She hates food."
"I'm used to eating like a gymnast," she said. "This place rarely has the right combination of nutrients for me. Fortunately, I'm just trying to return to cheering and maybe dance, right now."
"Oh, my God! Your videos are so wonderful!" Stacie said.
"My videos?"
"Your dance videos," she said. "I love the one with the pink peacock outfit."
"Oh… That was actually a carnival theme outfit, like they do in the islands. Jeesh… Where did you find that?"
"Stevie pulled it up on my phone a while back." Dwight and Sam were both trying to gesture to Stacie to stop this. "I favorited some of them. I like that one and the one with the yellow carnival outfit."
"We were talking about that not too long ago. I had to perform medicated and having an allergy attack."
"REALLY?"
"I thought I was gonna die. My lungs were ready to collapse. How… many of them did you see?"
"I think Stevie watched like… 8 or 9. I kinda just looked over his shoulders."
"When was this?" Cheerio asked.
"Oooh, I don't know. When was that, Daddy?"
"Months ago, but onto more important things, how is Stevie handling things?"
"He's doing fine. I've tried to validate his feelings and be here for him. It was a rough patch there. He broke up with his girlfriend, we lost a friend - he was sent to another ward, and also the trials were stressful for him. He's… the best that I've ever seen him around you all." She winced, "That's not to say that he's usually in a much worst mood when you're here than he is when you're not here."
"Good save," Sam said. She frowned at him. "I was just giving you a hard time. We know it's hard for Stevie to see us."
"You, in particular," she said.
Stacie asked, "What about me?"
"You're literally the light of his life. He does hate you coming here to see him, but he remembered how disconnected you felt when the family couldn't see his brother, so he allows these visits. NOT TO SAY THAT HE HATES THEM!"
She covered her face, flustered and Stevie returned with a plate of salad that he had put the appropriate toppings on. "What did I walk in on?"
"My foot all up in my mouth," she said, took her plate, sighed and went to join Dani.
"What did y'all do? I left for a few minutes!" He fussed.
"Stacie made her uncomfortable," Sam said.
"Oh yeah? That's what we're doing?"
"You didn't notice how nervous it made her that y'all were watching her dance videos?"
"WHAT? How did THAT come up?" Stevie asked.
"Stacie just offered it up," Sam said, laughing. Stevie put his hands in his face. "Bro - it's fine. Y'all are teenagers. Everything is awkward and embarrassing. This is the most normal you've seemed in over a year!"
"You've seen me seven times, so how would you know?" Stevie asked, suddenly in a terrible mood. Stacie rubbed his shoulder. Mercedes frowned, but kept silent. Stevie looked over at Allie-Ann. She had a sister there with her and a grandmother. Bukowski wasn't far away, but wasn't at the table. He wondered how they felt about him - if he gave off a vibe or ever even interacted with them. He realized that everybody was looking at him. "What?"
"I was just wondering what the fight was about. The first girl insisted that it was your fault, then the second girl came and said it was hers," Mercedes said, softly.
Stevie sighed, "The second girl is extremely biased. It was completely my fault and I don't want to say more than that."
"Okay. Do you hate when we visit?" she asked.
"I hate the official nature of the visits. It always feels like those parent/principal conferences that I had to have every time I got in a fight at school - like nobody wants to be there, but thanks to my fucked up decisions, here we all are."
"None of us blame you for what happened. It just showed us how much help you needed and that we didn't realize. And you said that you feel better in here, so it's helping, right?" Stacie asked.
He shrugged his shoulders, "Sometimes. Did Cheerio tell you that I hate it when you visit?"
"She didn't mean to. It sounded kind of like she was concerned for you and accidentally babbled a few things. She really, REALLY seems to care about you."
"Yeah. I think she does. She's not a bright girl."
"Don't do that," Mercedes asked. "Don't insult both of you just to deny feelings. That's small, Stevie. I think you know that for whatever reason, whatever you've got going on is working."
"Why are we all talking about me?"
"Well, we're visiting you and you're the one that we thought we were doing this for. If it isn't helping, we need to know," Sam said.
"You're not part of the conversation," Stevie said, waving a hand.
"Same commentary, then," Stacie said.
Stevie sighed, "I think I would be fine with less visits. I have to put on a whole facade when y'all come…"
"You don't…"
"I don't? I don't have to seem like I'm okay? Because the times that I haven't been able to pull it off have been spent with y'all pressing me to speak about shit I obviously don't want to speak about. And casually, when I'm fine, pressing me about shit that I obviously am trying to handle on my own. Y'all don't respect my feelings. I don't feel validated from y'all." He took a deep breath, "And now I feel shitty for telling you that I feel that way, even though my humanity is relevant, because I know that y'all are trying!" He clenched his fists, put his face on them and tried to catch his breath.
Then, he felt her hands, slide onto his shoulders. He touched them with his own hands and leaned back to rest against her.
"Hey, Friend," she said, and smiled down at him. "Need me to clear the table or bring you some water, or anything?"
"No, thanks. Thank you."
She gave him a pat on the shoulder and said, "Heading back to Dani's. Wanna meet us when you're done?"
"Duh. Fuckin' idiot."
She shoved his head, playfully. "It was nice meeting all of you. Happy Thanksgiving!" She and Dani left, with Dani, looking at him concerned and wondering too loudly if he'd be okay if they "left him with them?" Cheerio just pulled her away, by the sleeve.
"Well… I guess we know how you feel, now. Thank you. Thanks for… letting us know," Stacie said, got up, about to cry and started packing up the table.