To Change Who I Used to Be
He went through several facial hair types, a few different hair lengths, multiple fashion changes, and numerous hair colors before falling back into his natural red hair. But, he often grew a small beard, sometimes let his hair grow long, sometimes gave himself a buzz cut. At any rate, Max Giardi had to hide in plain sight, but as Max Van Zonder. Fortunately, all of the Schuester assets were seized and most of them sold very cheaply. He had money put away for a fallout, in case someone (not he or his brothers) ever messed things up for them. And things were definitely messed up. One brother in prison, the other in a grave, his mentor a mutt, his aunt a traitor, dragging his mother into her grasps at yesterday… The only bright spot for him was the fact that they knew people set up in agencies that could make his adoption of Rose Schuester legal. She couldn't carry that name, unfortunately. She was a Schuester, a proper Schuester, like him, but like him, she could never attain that name. He had to pretend that she was his cousin. She should have been his cousin, but that wasn't what she was, thank God. If she had been Will Schuester's daughter, he would have left her in the woods to be devoured by predators. But, she was Preston's. Biologically, his baby sister. One day, he might tell her, but for now, she was a displaced infant that belonged in his care, and his care alone. Not even that rancid mother of hers would ever see her, if he had anything to do with it.
As Max Van Zonder, he was able to move through life undetected. He missed certain elements of his old life, but the thing that gave him his internal reward was knowing that he would make Stevie pay for this, for every bit. Shortly before Mary Evans earned herself a bullet to the gut, the triplets had found out that Stevie fucked their mother. What kind of person was he? Max fumed. Stevie was always fucking somebody's mom. Honestly, it always bothered Max a little bit how friendly he and Kendra were. But Kyle had insisted that his best friend was in no way shape or form the kind to try to do something with their mom. They had underestimated the power of the tongue. Ewww… Bad choice of words. Some of the older women in the circles bragged on Stevie. Kendra's husband had been in prison for a while, doing time for the Schuesters, and she wasn't one of the ones chosen for breeding, and while plenty of the lackies were interested in her, she didn't want to gain a reputation. Candy had a reputation, and she didn't want to be that woman, at all.
But a boy, excited, full of stamina and loyalty - he wouldn't tell. Why would he whenever women were making dates with him all of the time? And he was at their house all of the time whenever the Evanses lived in Ohio and if and when he was allowed to visit, that was where he stayed. There was a guest room, but Kendra always went to visit him in there. He didn't feel good about it, but she was married into the Schuester family and pretty intimidating. As long as her boys never found out, she told him that everything was good. "Just trust me."
Upon further therapy sessions, Stevie began to think that maybe Kendra Giardi had a lot to do with his inability to have functional relationships. It was one thing hooking up with hot older women that you totally wanted to bang, and something else completely feeling pressured by your best friends' mom. But, whenever he was younger, it was simply a chore to him. Like going over to mow your neighbor's yard or dog sitting. He wasn't stoked to do it, but totally didn't mind that much and never complained about it. In fact, he never talked about it until Sister Mary Constance flat out asked him, "Are there any other adult women who sexually violated you?"
He didn't feel like arguing about whether or not he was sexually violated, so he just started his hand count, not giving out any names. She wanted to know and desired to bring them to justice, but he had refused to give her any names. The closest detail that he had was, "I think one of 'em fucked my dad. I let it happen because I didn't want to get involved. I'm not gonna tell on anybody now, if I didn't even do it to spare my daddy."
But, Max was out there in the world, living his life and plotting his revenge. He was thankful for all of his Foundation connections, because even if they didn't get involved, sometimes they allowed things that helped him. He also enjoyed having Tesla's orderly at his beck and call. He wasn't consistently useful, but his fragments of intel were extremely helpful. He had so much Stevie porn with that girl. Max had wondered if he maybe had a thing for her, from how much footage he had from their bedrooms. "She's too light skinned," he'd said. It reminded him of Kyle. Kyle thought that lighter skin meant that somebody in her family had been some kind of race traitor and therefore, she was what he referred to as a tainted offering. A nigger, was a nigger, was a nigger, to Max. He didn't care if they were as white looking as Will. If he knew there was a drop of black blood - they were unworthy of anything, of everything.
He and his brothers had started their trips in the woods, hoping to get booked for desensitizing training videos (and some were definitely used), but a great deal of them were sold to Jesse St. James, for his personal collection. He had told Max, "I love your work. Don't tell me… your official occupation is either a cameraman or a photographer." (He meant Max's cover, as a future ghost skin).
"I do a lot of camera work for Mr. Saunders," Max had said, blushing and smiling, actually starstruck to be face to face with Jesse St. James.
"Keep up the good work and you might one day be able to do camera work for me. I started my collections when I was maybe your age or a pinch older or younger. It's hard to find someone steadfast to do the noble work. I can tell from the things you record, you would have no issue with anything that I may request." EVERYONE knew about Jesse St. James' collections. No one would ever say it to his face and definitely not to an outsider, but he had donated certain footage to desensitizing - like that one that had the girl that Stevie kidnapped the night his mom died. They had seen it numerous times. It was one of Kyle's favorites. "St, James usually likes lighter girls, but that one is perfect!" When she was in Hank's hideout, all Kyle did was stare hungrily at her. Had things gone right that night, the three brothers would have been featuring her in a second video. It could have been EPIC. A secondary attack on such legendary prey? Max's mouth even watered thinking about the fanboying of it all. Aphasia would have made them gods, to follow up with one of Jesse's - with one that never got over it and very publicly suffered!
But, Max lived out as sick a fantasy, at any rate. There was much work to do before he got to Stevie. In the meantime, that Bukowski had in his possession a gift that Kyle would have killed to have. Max ensured that his brother would be able to retrieve a small treat on her behalf.
.
Leaving the institution was just about the hardest thing that she had done in years, but having Chase with her made it bearable, at first. Brett's grandmother's house was spacious, but she only stayed in a small fragment of the house and he pretty much owned the rest. If she wasn't in her bedroom or the living room, she had been escorted to an event or something.
For Tesla, it was nearly the same, but in a different area of the house. She never left, though. The trip there was filled with anxiety and panic for her and once she was inside and got her bearings, this became her new home. She was too worried about that feeling to even want to step outside, and while Chase found he was less timid about going out into the world; he definitely worried about her safety. He wasn't going anywhere.
He offered to pay Brett the rent that he had paid to stay in the home, but Brett waived him of that and just told him he would have to pay for his own food and clothing. But Tesla was covered. After all, she was Brett's "pet," and one of his responsibilities was caring for her, because of that. For a little while, he did. He made her feel safe in a new place. He let her get comfortable living with him, then… something happened.
Bukowski had been having issues with the institution and the legal system. He was in more trouble than he would share with his new roommates and certainly with his grandmother. He was facing some charges and looking at hard time and the possibility of never being able to have a good job again. He was scraping by for money and being investigated as the potential source of most of the child pornography created in the facility… and the only person that he knew of that might possibly be able to tell him how to get out of this was Max Giardi.
So, when Max next contacted him to see if he had anything useful, Bukowski threw himself at his mercy. He didn't have anything useful, but if he could get help, he was willing to do anything that Max wanted. "I want to see Tesla," Max told him. Brett reflexively almost refused. Tesla was just now alright with things. She still had PTSD, but she could manage, with him and if she saw Max now… That would completely undo all of his work over the years and all of her conditioning. "I want to make a recording to smuggle in to my brother and make his time in prison a little bit sweeter."
"What kind of recording?"
"I've seen all of your hidden camera footage, Brett. I know exactly what you're capable of. And you've seen at least one of my pieces of work, so you know what kind I'm into…"
"That would destroy her…" Brett whimpered.
"Okay, cool. Sorry to bother you. Unfortunately, I can't do anything to help you out at the moment. My connections to judges are for loved ones and valued associates."
"Wait. Would… Would I be able to walk on all of the stuff that the institutions lawyers are trying to put on me?"
"Nobody would ever know that you were even a suspect, and you'd be free to work in another institution, if that's what you want to do."
"I loved my job."
"Do you love your freedom? Because I watched a video from your personal collection and saw an 18 year old spit into a 16 year old girl's mouth. Ohio would lose their minds if that came out in court. Rhadja Robinson certainly lost hers when she viewed it. I would not wanna cross that woman. Uppity nigger's got pull." And that was an honest statement.
"She'll hate me," Brett told himself, more than Max, about Allie Anne. He didn't want her to hate him...
"Okay. You have to do what's most important to you. I'll check in with you later, if you're around for more Stevie Evans shit… And if you're not… Well… That just leaves the overgrown child and your granny guarding her, right?" Max chuckled, "I can wait. Kyle's not going anywhere."
"Wait…" Brett snivelled. Max paused, and the other redhead could hear his anticipation smile. "I'll… You can see her. You can make your recording, if that means that I walk on all these charges and I can still work in my field."
"You've made the right choice, Bukowski. To your freedom, and to control over the pet that you've groomed specifically for moments like this. She's your property. You can do whatever you want with her." That was just it. Brett didn't want to share her with Max. He wasn't above using her or asking her to be with somebody, but… this was somebody who had made her like this. He couldn't see a way that she might forgive him, but if he got locked up, Max all but promised he'd still take her, anyway. And, knowing this guy's record, he'd probably either kill her or keep her for personal use. Bukowski rationalized that it was one terrible blow for their best possible future.
Tesla would never be the same, though.
.
All these things were taking place unbeknownst to Stevie and to Cheerio. She was too busy trying to maintain health for this pregnancy, and he was too busy trying to be rehabilitated enough to be free. Circumstances made that complicated.
Whenever he first got to the place, there were obvious kid gloves from a few members of the staff - pretty much all of the orderlies seemed nervous, the nurses wanted to overcompensate for his last stay, and every single minority staff member seemed content to avoid him, except his psychiatrist, Sister Mary Constance.
He walked into her office for the first time, took one look at her and asked, "Is this a trick?"
"Is what a trick, Stevie?"
"You, sitting there, looking like a joke. Is this a bit? Because walking into a shrink's office and seeing a nun IS a laugh. It's a few laughs."
"Well, you can sit down and laugh, right? Give it a shot."
Stevie glared and folded his arms, "Was that a joke?"
"Young Man, I don't believe that you and I have the same sense of humor, because I don't understand what you're mistaking for jokes."
"You got on a nun suit!"
"I'm a nun. This is my habit. That's what it's called. I'm also your psychiatrist. Certified. Check the credentials." She pointed to her wall. He waved a hand. Whether she was real, a delusion, certified, or a prank, he took a seat and made a decision. "Well, if you're the shrink, and this is truly my appointment, I'll just go ahead and tell you everything that you need me to admit in order to try to do your job…"
"Say whatever you need to."
Stevie laid down on her couch, repeated most of the unpacked hard stuff from his last institution, revealed his feelings about his current situation, talked his childhood, his sex life, his obsession with Cheerio, and his family phobia in the midst of starting his own family. "Now that you know it all, can I go? Or you gotta do a nun thing?"
"There's no nun things here, Stevie. You can certainly go, if you feel like you're done with our introduction. You don't have much longer scheduled and I don't force any of my patients to see me. I encourage it, but if they really want my help, they'll make it to our appointment. As long as you're accounted for, your free to skip." Stevie sat up. "I will say that just from what you've told me, it sounds like your family is directly related to all of the problems that you're sorting through. If you want to take the rest of your time to explore them and this idea, I welcome it. Your brother especially sounds connected, from your anecdotes."
Stevie got up and said, "I feel much lighter after all that unpacking. But, I'm sure something will come up by our next session." He left her office with his eyebrows furrowed. It sounded suspiciously like she didn't blame him for everything. She sounded like she blamed his family and she singled out Sam. Sure, that was likely what he'd projected, but they always told him to accept responsibility, basically to stop whining and be accountable. He was trying to do that. Maybe he succeeded. At any rate, he never missed an appointment.
The next time, he tried to ask her questions about why she thought Sam was an issue. "I don't think Sam is an issue, you said he was in your very long regurgitation of your psychiatric record. Do you want to explore it?"
"No. I wanna explore why you didn't tell me to take accountability."
"You took accountability while you were speaking. Colorful phrases about how you really F worded up are signs of that."
"Then, why did it sound like you were blaming my family?"
"It must have been another miscommunication between us. We'll find our way. Because, I'm not in the habit blaming others. But, I definitely will address any patterns I notice. All I did, whenever you initially spoke to me, was notice that there was a pattern. Your family does or doesn't do something, you react in a destructive way, and no matter which family member triggers you; you relate it to your relationship with your brother. Now, that can mean a couple of things. It can mean that you deeply value him, or it can mean that you deeply blame him. Only you could tell me, for sure."
"I love my brother," Stevie said, furrowing his eyebrows and smiling.
"Mmhmm," she said and made a note.
"What's that note?"
"Stevie lies about his feelings about his brother," she said.
"Wait. Really? You just… tell me what you wrote?"
"Why would I expect you to be honest and then not in turn be honest with you, myself? Besides, it's against my religion to lie." She set her pen down and Stevie started laughing.
He abruptly stopped. "That wasn't a joke."
"It's true, but I did intend to make you laugh." So, he started laughing again. She wrote something else down, but he didn't ask her what it was. He figured that it was probably positive, since he was laughing, and all.
Stevie grew to love Sister Mary Constance, his nun psychiatrist, or his Nun PMC, as he affectionately liked to call her, just to see her twist her lips and stare at him bemused. He could tell her anything, and sometimes, she talked to him like his doctor, sometimes she talked to him like a friend, and sometimes, she talked to him like a mother. He supposed it was the nun in her, but he was grateful for it, whatever it was. It was something that he needed, especially after he would get a letter from Rhadja Robinson. That woman was a menace. She was a thorn in his side. She was torturing him, for lack of a better word. She had sent him letters, called, even sent nurses and lawyers to get him to agree to meet her for a conversation.
Steven,
Videos of you and my daughter have come into my possession. I intend to come after you with the fullest extent of the law for sexual assault. If you wish to try to speak with me about this matter, put me on your visitation list so that we can meet up about possible agreements.
R. Robinson
.
Steven,
My lawyers are diligently working through hours and hours of explicit graphic sexual misconduct and clear abuse. There is no possible way that this doesn't fall on your shoulders. You are an adult man who has been sexually involved with a minor and we have evidence of it. If I were you, I would be intelligent and set up a meeting.
R. Robinson
.
Steven,
My daughter left home. She is now out in the world by herself with the fruit of demons inside of her body and it is entirely your fault. You could end this. You could have her come home and be safe. I think that you enjoy hurting her. I think that you love being able to have this control over her life and that you wield that power in order to keep her weak and distressed. And she thinks I'm unkind. Your baby, if it even survives the streets with her will be raised by a sick person with no valuable life skills, completely alone. I hope you're happy about that.
.
She stopped signing them and just sent: Arrange a meeting. Cheri and this baby's life depend on it. She sent the same tormenting letter every single day! Whenever he talked to Sister Mary Constance about this, she wondered, "Would you like us to cease letters from her? This is harassment. We could possibly even press charges."
"I can't press charges on my baby's mama's mother!" He sighed, laying down. "She still loves her, no matter what she's done to her. I just hate the constant attention from the woman. It's like… I have to take it, but it's hard to read."
"You don't have to take anything, Stevie."
"Would it be okay if I did arrange a meeting with her? Maybe… She would back off if I just talked to her?"
"If you think that you're ready for that, I'll have to meet with her first, gauge things, and make a decision on whether or not I believe that it's a good for you to see her."
"I think that I'm ready for it… Do… Do you think so?" He wondered.
Sis Mary Constance smiled softly at him, like a mother, he noted to himself. And he definitely reminded her of a little boy when he asked her this. The poor thing was always seeking out a motherly figure, always seeking out the validation of a respected older person. She had noticed this early on. He didn't do it with everyone. In fact, he frequently bucked at authority figures. But, older women and in particular those who were nice, but not frightened of him made him want to make the best impressions.
"I think that you've proven that you're willing to face your fears and your problems, and I am extremely impressed with that type of progress. The file that they sent with you is not the young man that comes to my office everyday." He smiled brightly. "We gonna get you well, yet, Stevie." He left the office and squeezed her shoulder, earning him pursed lips and the question, "What's my rule about casually touching me?"
"Don't," he said and pointed to her. If Nun PMC was gonna check that lady out, he was definitely going to be alright.
.
Stevie felt confident, though nervous about the meeting. Mary Constance had read all of the mail that Rhadja sent him, interviewed the woman, vetted her and promised to remain close, in case something went unexpected. Unfortunately, by the time the meeting happened, something unexpected did take place and she was called away. Therefore, Stevie went into the meeting alone and pretty afraid. He came in early, to make sure that he chose a seat against the wall, with his back up against it. He didn't want anybody to be able to come up behind him, and that was simply one of his general paranoias.
He had one of Cheri's notepad's with him and he was drawing a doodle in it whenever she came. She stood in the doorway for a moment, watching him, and growing sicker and angrier with each deep breath that she took. Why this trash, Mon Cheri? Did her daughter hate her so much that she would not only throw away her life, but their bloodline away with this… "Complete filth," she said out loud and made her way into the room. She made sure to clank her heels loudly, to make everyone cognizant turn in her direction. He looked up at the sound and was nearly blown away. Cheerio was definitely this woman's daughter. She was older, but she still looked really good. He had hope for future Cheerio, looking at her mom. He also got terrified just seeing her.
He put the pad away and watched her strut towards him, disdain in her captivating green eyes and a dangerous smirk on her perfect lips. "Thank you so much for agreeing to meet with me."
"You didn't give me much of a choice…" When she sat down, he squirmed a little bit.
She was seated upright, with perfect pageantry posture that he noticed Cheerio picked up from her - because she never slumped and now he knew why. "Well, there are some important things that we have common stake in, and I simply couldn't let you avoid the issue, as complicated as it may be to discuss." The way that she delicately, but deliberately removed her gloves somehow impressed him. He watched her set the gloves on the table and fold her nicely manicured hands over each other on her bag, like she didn't even want to touch the table. Her demeanor reminded him of a villainess in a movie, calmly speaking before withdrawing a sword and beheading someone.
"I.. don't know what you mean…"
Rhadja scoffed without changing her facial expression. It came from her throat, but she didn't offer another word for several minutes. She wanted this poor white trash to take in everything she was. Black. Female. Rich. Everything he was not. She had worn her royal jewels, princess cut diamonds, rare pearls, emeralds and jade, to make her eyes sparkle with their green hues, and to subconsciously remind him of green, of money. Her manicure was flawless and the beauty products that she used made her look superhuman. The designer pale green dress that she was wearing was knee length, but rose up when she sat and the shoes that she wore looked like they had never been worn before. He didn't know that they were $1700.00. He knew that everything she had on probably cost more than everything that he had ever owned.
"You knocked my daughter up."
"There were careless actions made by both of us, but we're going to do whatever we can to make sure that we get things sorted out."
She chuckled and her face changed a little bit. She still looked exactly like a slightly older Cheerio, but like… if she was evil. Is this hillbilly for real? He must be out of his mind, Of course he is, that's why he's in this place. Outside of his mind, trashy, AND stupid, apparently. Cheri must have really hated her to ever, EVER - "You obviously have no idea how much of a fool you sound, right now." Her smile was completely gone and the glare shined on her entire face. "You're in a mental institution for KILLING a man. A man that reports claimed was your friend and someone you had known for several years. You also, in the same night, kidnapped two women, double crossed white supremacists and watched your mother die." He thought about his mother. Usually, people tried to pad that - not just throw it at him that way. It surprised him just how triggering that was, if someone without his best interests just threw it at him. She was still going though he could hardly hear her as his mother's death spun around in his hand. "Sex with you seems absolutely disgusting, with all the fluids and the sloppy technique. You've gotten into so many fights in the institution, it is a wonder that they allowed you to stay…"
"I.. know my life, Mrs. Robinson."
"Then you know that you're not the right person for Cheri or any other woman, for that matter." She tilted her head, admiring silently that she was getting to him, just like she knew that she would. He was so simple. A pathetic simpleton that she would forever hate for tainting her daughter this way. "Look, we can pretend that I have said something rude, or you can admit that you believe, just as much as I do that if you do ever get out of this place, you have no type of future out in that world. Everything that you worked towards and everything that you made yourself into went away the night that you got yourself sent here. You aren't your brother. Nobody is trying to write books about you or make movies or start benefits. You aren't a reformed killer turned hero with a sensational story. You're a thug who got caught and played crazy." His eyes widened. She knew that look. He resembled those remarks and he felt it, as much as she meant it. He looked about ready to cry, but she knew he wouldn't easily let it happen. She was gonna have to work a little harder for those tears, for his breakdown, for her ultimate goal.
He tried to deny the truth. "I needed help and I have gotten help. I am going to get out of here and then, we'll take care of all of the things that other parents do." Even as he said that, it sounded less true than it had ever sounded when he and Cheri discussed it.
She was on her job, making unimpressed faces as he said what he said and quickly gaslighting him with, "How selfish of both of you to further punish this kid by making it have to grow up with your defects in its DNA and your baggage in its upbringing. The baby that has to eventually find out who his father is. A killer who would have had no regard for its life only a few months before its conception. The child who may or may not have a mother, because you never know when Cheri is going to take another bottle of pills, or hang herself, or slit her wrists. No human being deserves you, Steven Evans, especially not one that carries my genes. If you cared, at all about my daughter, you would admit that to her, or at the very least to your damn self.. and let her go. She's about to get out of here. She can't get rid of it, physically, now, but she CAN give it up. She can finish high school. She can go to college. She can lead a full life again. Do you think that after all of her years of struggling and healing that she deserves to have you reeling her back into distress?" Stevie opened his mouth to comment, but a tear fell from his eye, instead and he just shook his head, no.
Rhadja smirked, so satisfied. She knew that even that single tear meant her victory. She was going to at the very least ruin that relationship, if not keep him completely away from her offspring. She answered her own question for him, "Of course she doesn't. Maybe, someday, if you ever get out, you two can be friends. Maybe you can search for that kid and see what he or she is up to. But, the worst possible thing that you could do, (if you are truly reformed and have gotten help in this place) is to pretend that you and my daughter could ever have a life together worth anything." He was visibly shaking, trying not to burst into tears and attempting not to have an explosive outburst. The last thing that he needed was to prove her completely right, even though he knew that she was… "It wouldn't be fair to either of them to have to bear the burdens of your past and it's unfair to that child to have to bear the two of you."
He wiped his eye with the heel of his hand and she repugnantly patted him on the shoulder. "Even though I don't want her having this baby, let her down gently. We don't want the two of them to suffer more than they have to." He shook his head and she sighed, rolling her eyes. "I can tell that you know I'm right, Steven."
"I can't do that to them. We've already made promises to each other. I've promised her that I wouldn't be another person who says they love her then lets her down!"
She collected her hands to herself in frustrated fists, "You are going to let her down! That is simply inevitable. It will happen. The choice of whether it happens now or years down the line when she feels trapped with you is what I'm asking you to make right now. You know that I'm right, because you know deep down inside that you are wrong for her. If you won't admit it to me, at least admit it to yourself and let them go."
He threw his head back and now he couldn't help but cry, though he managed to keep it silent. "She'll hate me. She will hate me and she won't ever let me see him."
"Him? It's a boy… So, you think that you, a white man trained to kill black ones are capable of raising one, instead? My poor, poor grandson. He'll probably kill himself before he even hits puberty."
Stevie could barely breathe, now. "Stop…"
"You could save him years of pain just by getting out of his life. You could spare my daughter by severing ties, but some promise you made, probably in the throws of twisted hatesex passion is more important than her emotional and mental well-being. You're a pathetic man and will be a worthless father." She began to put her gloves back on. "I hope you die in this place, so my Cheri can be free, since you're too much a coward to do the right thing by her."
"I…. will." Now, he loud sobbed and quickly caught himself. "I'll do it. It's… the only way to be sure." He nodded his head, "Are… Are you going to make sure that she's well kept? Not in some institution. Not in some dump, but some place nice and deserved?"
"I'm going to always provide for mine. Worry about yourself." She grabbed her purse, stood up, hovered over him for a moment and warned, "But, if you really do this, I'm definitely going to enhance her inheritance." He nodded his head and she forced a smile. It was the meanest smile he had ever seen. She was so happy with herself, watching his heart break and knowing that he was going to pass that along to her daughter. He hated her for it, but… He believed her, too. He believed everything that she said, because he always had and wasn't sure of how he'd let Cheerio convince him otherwise. Now, he was going to have to do this terrible thing, make this excruciating sacrifice.. For her and for Cowboy, and neither of them will probably never even know it.
.
The next time that he saw Cheerio, he drank her in from the window. He would never forget this day. He was about to ruin his own goddamn life forever… but probably save hers and Cowboy's. His life was nothing to pay for that chance for them. It took Sister Mary Constance hours to calm him down after his visit with Rhadja. She took the initiative to restrict the woman's access, to refuse any letters and to make her have to use litigation if she ever wanted exposure to him again. She also allowed him to get Cyril brought back in. Stevie played that guitar almost every waking moment of the day, and he had it in his arms as he looked at Cheerio, for what he believed would be the last time.
She had on a pink top with strawberries on it, a red beanie and matching jacket. Her smile was bright and the bounce in her step was light and carefree. He almost cried just thinking about how he was about to change her demeanor; how he was about to change their lives. Whenever she came in, she found him and waited for him to greet her with a hug. She was confused when he didn't, but gave him one and a kiss that he recoiled from.. "Okay, what's going on, Cornflake?" She wondered.
He couldn't even look at her. "Not doing too well."
She reached for the pad, "Is it in here?" she asked and flipped to the last entry as he began to play some All American Rejects song on the guitar and quietly sing, basically background music to her reading this flurry of words.
"Your subtleties, They strangle me. I can't explain myself at all. And all that wants. And all that needs. All I don't want to need at all…"
This was all a mistake. We were naive to think anything else. I'm at fault, more than anyone. I had to have you. I insisted on being with you, knowing that I didn't deserve you, and then I did this careless thing and put you in this vulnerable position…
"The walls start breathing, My mind's un-weaving. Maybe it's best you leave me alone. A weight is lifted, On this evening - I give the final blow…"
The best thing that can be done at this point is for me to finally make a good decision and be the one to do what needs to be done. We can't be together and we never could. We both should have known that, but I got into your mind, and I'm really sorry that I sold this fairytale to you…
"What the fuckkk?" Cheerio whispered, reading to herself as Stevie's singing became a little more teary
"When darkness turns to light, It ends tonight, It ends tonight…"
I love you so much. I love you and Cowboy. I always will. But, we can't be a family. You and me can't be together…
"What the fuck is this, Cornflake, are you really doing this to me, through a letter, even though I'm sitting right here and you could have just said it to me?"
He stared out of the window, still singing, " A falling star. Least I fall alone. I can't explain what you can't explain. Your finding things that you didn't know.
"I look at you with such disdain!" She joined in on the song that he was trying to use to pull himself out of the room. She wasn't about to make this easy for him. "The walls start breathing. My mind's un-weaving. Maybe it's best you leave me alone. A weight is lifted. On this evening, I give the final blow…" She jerked him by the collar of his shirt to try to make him stop singing and look at her, but he just pulled away from her and got up from the table and walked away. "Are you…?" She couldn't even figure out what she was going to ask him. Cowboy was acting a fool in there and she was feeling like one.
Cheri was red in the face as she rushed behind Stevie, "You're not even going to try to say goodbye to me?" She squealed, holding her belly and trying not to cry.
"I thought that the goodbye was understood when I told you that we're not going to be together, that we can't and we both should have known that!" He was still avoiding looking at her. That would make him weak and he couldn't be weak right now.
"You didn't tell me anything. You wrote it down, like I wasn't even worth a conversation."
"You generally communicate best this way. I was trying to make this easier on you, not me. I just want you to have a better life than what I would provide. I want things fair for him…"
She stepped in front of him and he tossed his head back in annoyance and frustration, but mostly to avoid facing her. "Did my mom get to you? You sound just like her, with all of this talk about who you are and how unfair it is to this baby to have to be yours… Do you think that it's unfair for him to be mine, too? You think he doesn't deserve to have two people who love each other come together and bring him to life? Why is that bad? I thought you'd changed… You don't want him because his mama's black!"
The fury in Stevie's eyes when he finally made eye contact with her after that outburst honestly frightened her. She froze, with wide, terrified eyes and even her tears seemed to pause.
He noticed her reaction and softened, slightly. He accidentally saw her belly, too. Nowm he was facing both of them and all he wanted to do was drop dead on the spot. "I don't even know how you can even think that, at this point," he said. "If nothing else, you know we're… friends." He massaged his temples, "I'm going to do any and everything that I can to help you, but what can I do from here? You've been released! You have a chance at a life. Your mother came back for you. That's the thing you've wanted most since I've known you."
"She wants me to throw him away. Our baby, Stevie!" She grabbed his hand and placed it against herself to feel Cowboy's movement. He temporarily looked like he would crumble. He hadn't felt Cowboy move before, and he was movin' up a storm in there.
He jerked his hand away, mad that she used that against him. She had to see that this was best for her and the baby. "You shouldn't come here anymore. You got out. Stay out."
"We're friends? But.. you don't even want to see me? You don't want to meet him? You want me gone…" She held herself and leaned against the wall. He reflexively tried to check on her, but she jerked away from him. "NO! You don't get to care when its comfortable or convenient! I'm stuck loving you while you slam me out. I am going to have a baby that I am going to love as much as I love you and I have to do that alone. I got it. But, you could at least admit that we are what we are. We aren't friends. We haven't been friends in a long time. I don't know that we ever were. We were always going to be this. He's the manifestation of it. Whether or not you want it… we're family, now." She stormed off, and Stevie leaned against the wall now and slid down it, crying, finally. Help rushed over to him, collecting him to help him to his room. She turned to see that and shut her eyes tightly, warning herself to stop caring. He had rejected her and she needed to bounce back.
Before going back to the truck, she rushed into the bathroom to vomit, cry, kick the toilet, scream, tell a nurse that she was okay and just leaving, and basically having a full meltdown, then promising Cowboy, "Whatever happens I promise to always pull it together for you no matter how long it takes me I'm not going to let this bring us down." She rubbed her belly and went outside to find Stacie. "Did you know?" She asked.
"Did I know, what?" She shook her head and got into the truck. "Cheerio, what's going on? Is Stevie alright?"
She shrugged her shoulders, "He told me not to come back."
"WHAT?"
"I don't wanna talk about it. I just wanna go." The ride home was speechless, but a country station was playing on the radio. Whenever they made it back home, Cheri retreated into the room she had been sleeping in and Stacie began texting Stevie to try to figure out what was going on. He didn't reply that night and whenever Stacie went to knock on Cheri's door to see if she needed anything, she and all of her stuff was gone! Stacie tried to call her, but she ignored it and it went to her voicemail, then she turned it off as she knocked on the door of the tiny house.
Jake opened it and looked confused, "Cheerio.. What's up?"
"Something happened. You think your mom will care if I borrowed the couch for a few?"
"Uh, yeah, she would." She frowned and nodded. "She'd expect me to take the couch and you have my room. Come on. I'll get your stuff from the cabbie."
"Thanks, Jake."
"Don't mention it."
