Conversations #10
A disjointed set of conversations that would've been fun/nice/endearing/helpful to see in the series…but we didn't.
Follows CANON only, generally references to conversations we never hear.
Disclaimer: Not mine. Just speculatin'.
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Heather watched as the evening faded from the sky. Funny how ominous darkness could be, now that the invention of electric lighting was not a viable option. It made wondering about people and their intentions so much worse. One place still shone with light, although the fumes from the 'shine made the open flames a hazard. To Bailey's it was.
"Heather!"
"Hi, Heather."
"Hey, Teach."
"Hello, Heather."
The chorus of greetings came as it usually did. One former student--not hers, but with only one school, every teacher wound up knowing every kid--continued to call her "Teach". Heather wasn't the violent type, but she really wished she could smack him hard enough he'd remember her name. Of course, with her luck, that would probably make him infatuated with her and she'd have him trailing after her like a puppy.
"What's with the long face?" Mary asked, her ever-present grin irritating more than usual tonight.
"Nothing. Maybe. Oh, I don't know. Set me up, will you?" Heather's indecision or unwillingness to commit was showing. Mary didn't hop to.
"Not until you tell me what's going on. You're not a drinker--a certain commemorative bottle of Scotch aside--so before I start you down the path of alcoholism and liver damage, you're going to tell me everything."
Heather looked at her and stood up. "I can't, Mary. You're just too damned happy."
"What?"
"You and Eric. You're happy. You're out in the open. You've at least got someone to bitch at and curl up with at night. I'm not going to ruin that."
"One, you're supposing you could hurt my relationship with Eric. Two, you're assuming that whatever your problem is will go to bed with me, and three, you know that drinking solves nothing, but you're here anyway, so there's something deeper here. Spill."
Soft grey eyes met warm brown, filled with sympathy and kindness. For all she was a hardnosed businesswoman, Mary was also a bartender.
"Okay, Barkeep," Heather said, sitting back down on the stool. "Just go ahead and pour something for me, though."
Mary, sensing that her triumph was imminent, obliged her young friend. Not that Mary was an old crone by any means, but she was a few years older chronologically and worlds away in experience. After seeing Heather chase Jake, however briefly, the extremity of that difference came clear to her. Two shot glasses appeared next to a mason jar of moonshine. With a deft movement, Mary filled both and waited.
"It's…everything," Heather finally said, staring at the clear liquid in her glass.
"That narrows it down," Mary snorted.
"The missiles, the attacks, the lack of power, Jake, Emily, Roger…Everything. Nothing is quite what it should be and I know that there's something I'm missing, something important, but I can't think what it is because everything else is getting in the way. My students may or may not show up, though they'll still need to read the words 'danger' and 'poison' and 'radiation' on things, half of them are starving, the other half will be starving soon, and no one knows what the hell is going on." The frustration spilled out of Heather and she was close to tears.
"And it doesn't help that even that Mimi bitch has found someone who wants her while you're curling up alone." Mary dug into the underlying irritation easily. "So on top of starvation, ignorance, early-onset Alzheimers, and potential blindness and cirrhosis of the liver, you're lonely."
Heather paused, thinking. Damn Mary. She always saw past the bullshit and got to the core of the problem--another reason why Heather didn't drink. She couldn't face the bartenders.
"That's about it."
"There's a new doctor in town. Have you looked in his direction?"
"Kenchy?" Heather blinked. She was thinking of brown eyes, but they didn't have the cool doctor's clinical stare in them, or the drunken doctor's slightly sloshed look, either. The eyes she envisioned were bright with passion and rage. No, she had to get over Jake. Had to. There wasn't anything to get over. Just another fantasy. Just another wish. Just another night wishing she could work on her crossword puzzles after dark without wasting a candle or kerosene.
"Think about it?" Mary asked, nodding down to the direction of the clinic. "And remember, hon, not everyone's better off with someone." For a moment, Mary's mask slipped. The regret and fear she was enduring came searing through to Heather's sympathetic and easily intoxicated heart. Mary was still afraid of the town's rejection of her love for one of the Green boys, and she deeply regretted the pain she had caused to the Green family, even if Eric was now with her.
As Mary turned away, Heather looked down the bar. True, she wasn't the only one alone. But could she handle the worry about having Kenchy anywhere near an open flame? He was so saturated, he just might catch fire, and then the wind would catch the flames and--WIND! That's what she was missing! Now, if she could find some of those old agri-mechanical texts that were at the school, provided no one had snagged them for firestarter, she could at least have an idea for the next town meeting...