Notes from Mama Lobster: apologies for the delay, things have been kind of hectic lately. I can't promise another chapter until after Otakon is done (PS: if you're going you should absolutely come say hi)

Song is Cornflake Girl by Tori Amos.

Raisin Girls

== Be John

Knees suck. Getting older sucks. Wind sucks, cold sucks, cracks in the sidewalk really suck, and so do shoes so worn they have holes you can stick your pinky toe out of (you really should get new ones, but there are bigger priorities these days).

What doesn't suck, though? Having your daughter allow you to walk her places. Even better is having her ask you to walk her places. You wouldn't dream of complaining about any aches or pains when she's humming along, bumping her wheelchair over the sidewalk as if it was an ATV.

"You can stop pushing me any time you like." She grumbles.

"Sorry." You're not. "It's been a long time since you let me go anywhere with you."

"Does that mean you're actually coming in this time?"

The answer to that is a loud and resounding no, no matter how nice it might be otherwise.

"You know, she might not even be there." She says. "You could at least come say hi to my boyfriend."

"I've said hi to your boyfriend many many times, and I told him that if he ever lays a hand on you I'll kill him with my bare hands. Everything that needs to be said is said."

"Yeah yeah yeah. You adore him even if he is a little shit."

"Language." You were never very good at hiding your flinching, and Adam isn't exactly who you're hiding from anyway.

"Shit piss nook-sucking turd in a blanket." Casey smiles at you, crooked and a bit strange from a lack of practice. "But thanks for taking me."

"Anytime, Caseadoodle." And you absolutely mean it.

== Be Simone

There's a girl in your living room that you're supposed to be ambushing right now. She's been waiting for a good ten minutes or so, thinking her boyfriend is going to come back when he has no such intentions.

He urges you one more time. "Miss Rogers, please. I promise she is just as afraid of you as you are of her."

"Sweetie, I just need another minute to get ready." You have to take a moment to wipe your palms on the sides of your skirt, creating yet another countdown in your head. Count of three, and you'll move to greet her.

Three, two, one…

one….

one…

two, one…

Yeah, no.

He sighs. "I know you're scared, but please? For my sake?"

"Adam…" He's giving you the sad look, the same emotional blackmail that worked when he was twelve. "Sweetie, I can't do the touchy-feely thing. That's not me. I don't know what you want me to say to her."

"You can do the so-called "touchy-feely thing." You do it quite well with me."

"That's different. Those were extreme circumstances."

"So is this." He manages the barest smile. "I doubt it will be as different as you might think."

"So what, am I supposed to ignore the screaming match you had last week?"

His face is passive as he contemplates an answer; you sometimes find yourself resenting that façade he has been picking up from you. It's too good now, and he's getting harder for you to read.

It takes a moment for him to sigh, adjusting his glasses idly. "I hope one day you will forgive me for this."

You don't have time to protest; the hand on your shoulder shoves you forward and you are face to face with one impatient and aggravated Casey Egbert.

"…uh, hi there." You start, but trail off soon after. She stares at you blankly, her brain switched to some channel between static and burning hatred. Adam's blocking the way behind you, and the only other door in the room leads to a closet. Shit.

"So…" You cross your arms more out of habit than anything, silently calculating how many hours you could bearably spend surrounded by coats.

"Is Adam coming back?"

"I think he might be a little while, swee—"

"Don't call me sweetie." Her tone is dangerous, just enough to give her words a lasting bite.

"Okay. Okay, that's fine. I was just going to be leaving in a second anyway." Seven steps to the closet, and you can just try to explain yourself later—

"He's making you talk to me, isn't he?"

You're sure you must look just as blank as she does right now.

"Isn't he?" The bite is still there, stronger than before.

"…Yes."

Her face sours, glancing to the doorway you entered from.

"Adam, if you're in there listening I promise I will PEE ON EVERY PLAYBILL YOU OWN."

There is a scrambling noise from the hall behind you, and the muffled footsteps that follow echo all the way up the stairs to his bedroom. A door slams in the distance. Casey fumes for a moment, staring off in the direction of the noise before turning her focus back to you.

"So what are you supposed to be doing here? Talking about the weather?" Casey's got herself a serious set of crazy eyes, offering a very clear challenge that you're not sure you'll be able to meet.

"I, uh… can't say for sure." Oh god. You can't seduce or trick or lie your way out of here. How sadistic does Adam have to be to throw you into this without a lifeline? Even he doesn't know how to deal with Casey's wrath.

"Right. So no apologizing or anything." Apologizing. That's exactly what you were supposed to be doing, but it's going to seem pretty fake after that. Not that you aren't sorry, of course you feel terrible for leaving her without a goodbye, but are you supposed to just walk in and say that?

You realize you've been silent for too long. Casey rolls her eyes.

"Tell Adam I'll see him tomorrow, okay?"

"Casey, don't be like that." Like what, you wonder. Bitter? Angry?

"Look," She starts. "You don't want to be here, I don't want to be here, I'll play nice if it helps him out but let's not pretend like you give a shit about me, okay?"

"Sweetie, don't start putting words in my mouth."

"I thought I told you not to—" Her voice is rising again, but she is a teenager and you're an adult and you will absolutely not have her telling you how you feel.

"I'm going to call you sweetie because you're still sweetie in my mind, and if you will let me get a word in edgewise maybe I can explain myself." You're as surprised as she is, even if you have much better control in terms of showing it. She's visibly distressed at being called out, and even as the warning bells shriek loud enough to give you a migraine your face remains perfectly calm.

Casey shuts her mouth slowly, trying to keep her edge despite the sadness around her eyes. "…You left. Don't pretend like you care now."

"I left, but not because I don't care."

"Dad cried for years."

It takes a little extra effort to keep your face straight. "So did I."

She's silent for a moment, eyeing you up and down with appraisal. You seem to meet her standards, and she wheels a little closer to you. You find yourself standing across from her, afraid to get comfortable enough to sit.

"Sweetie, just say what you have to." Your arms are tightening almost involuntarily. Better to get this over with so you can tell Adam you tried.

"Alright." She straightens her back with dignity. "Fuck you. You made Dad cry and you ruined everything when you left. And sweetie is the stupidest nickname ever so you can cut that out right now."

"What is so wrong with sweetie?"

"That's what MOMS call their DAUGHTERS! That's what you call ADAM! I'm NOT YOUR SWEETIE, so don't you dare start that shit with me!"

It stings more than you want to admit, watching her struggle to wipe her tears before they fall. She's bitter and noisy and angry and you wonder if this is what you looked like, back when you felt so spiteful and alone.

"Swee— Casey, wait a second..."

"Don't TOUCH me!" She shouts, but she doesn't fight when you leave your hand on her shoulder. You wait, letting her adjust to the feeling of your weight on hers, letting her slowly slump forward into your side, letting her growl and snarl and probably ruin your skirt with eye makeup. She's crying harshly and hypersensitive to every touch in a way you're so familiar with. You learned how to pull away from the panic, how to pretend it isn't happening, how to smile and grin and look hot until you finally feel hot too. Casey's not there yet. At least this time you might be able to turn things around.

"Talk to me." Your voice is softer than you're used to, the one you use with Adam when he can't sleep at night. You didn't know you could call on gentleness so easily.

"I can't." She's all yelled out. She barely even pretends to fight as you rub your palm against her shoulder.

"You can tell me you hate me if you need to."

She sniffles, mumbling into your side. "I hate you more than anyone."

"And I ruined everything?"

"YES!" Her voice breaks with her scream, leaving her with nothing more than a hoarse whisper. She clings to your back, fisting her hands in the fabric of your shirt, and after the moment it takes to calm your blind panic you realize that this isn't so terrible. She's holding onto you because you are stable. She wants your help.

You open your mouth to speak again, but Casey beats you to it.

"…I thought you loved us."

The bottom falls out of your stomach, leaving you with a hollow numbness threatening to take over. You want to run. You also know that you could never forgive yourself if you tried.

You swallow, quelling your nausea before you find your voice. "I did, Casey. Seeing you always made my day better."

"Then why didn't you answer when I called you?"

"Casey, I'm not… I'm not your mother. I don't know how to be one. I was scared, and so I ran. I think that's something you can understand."

"I'm not scared." She growls, and you try not to laugh.

"I'm serious!" She snarls at nothing in particular, but still she hunches into herself. You doubt she could appear any smaller if she tried.

"Mm-hmm. Try to imagine, then?"

It takes a moment for her to detangle herself, unclenching her arms and settling down to talk. "I think I can imagine it."

"Good. Because it doesn't make what I did right, but… it really wasn't your fault."

She glances up at you quickly before looking down once again.

"I hope you heard that, sweetie. It wasn't your fault."

She sighs again, dramatically for your benefit. "It sucks that you don't think you're a mom. You'd be a really good one."

It catches you off guard, letting your stomach drop once again and your blood turn to ice. Sure, it was nice of her to say, but that can't be true. Not for someone like you. It's not like a mom is anything you really wanted to be anyway.

…What do you want to be? What do you want beyond living to see tomorrow?

Casey laughs, a bit wet from snot and tears. "Whatever. That ship's kinda sailed, hasn't it? I dunno, I just… fuck…" She wipes her eyes with the back of her hand, turning to face you with a loud, unpleasant sniff. "Besides, I have a mom already, and she wasn't very good at it either. All we really needed was you."

Her laugh grows a little louder. "Fuck family titles."

The ice in your blood melts to a warm glow, and you find yourself on your knees to meet her more easily. She's still hypersensitive, and she shies away from your touch when she doesn't see it coming. You take a moment to let her calm herself before you take her hand.

"I'll be living here for a while, Case. As long as you're seeing Adam I'll be here, too. I don't know if that's what you want, but I…well, I can try to make things up to you."

"It's kind of late now." The bitterness from earlier is gone, replaced instead with the melancholy of a girl who is tired of fighting.

"Maybe I can start making up for lost time, then."

"Maybe." You don't know if she's forgiving you or giving up.

"Will you talk to me?"

"Yeah, sure." She smirks. "Did you see Sweet Bro and Hella Jeff The Moivie: The Musical: The Movee is coming back to town? Dave wants to get us tickets."

"How about you tell me what you've been up to since I've been gone. I've heard stories."

"What, you mean the drug bust? Yeah, that was a thing. You know me, rebel without a cause. Starting fights, hanging out with juggalo trolls, dating douchebags, the whole nine yards. It was awesome."

"I'm sure. Any more detail?"

Her guard is back up, you can see it a split second after she blinks. "…what did you want to know?"

"Only how much you want to tell me."

"I don't want to tell you anything." It's more of a plea than a demand; her exhaustion is obvious.

"Okay. That's fine. But will you promise me something?" You don't know how much longer you have before she drowns you out entirely, but you hope you can get through to her. You hope you can tell her everything that you might have once told your sister. You hope you can tell her everything that you, as a scared teenage girl, wish you could have heard.

She nods a bit, and you try to calm your shaking hands.

"Find someone you trust, and talk to them, okay? Someone you know loves you, and will listen. Don't bar yourself off from the world, because that just makes it so much harder to learn how to open up again. Just tell the truth, and it'll be hard at first, but I swear, I SWEAR it will get easier. Trust me."

She sits in silence for a minute, turning her hands in her lap. Her voice is so quiet when she speaks again.

"I don't think anyone would listen."

Something in you snaps for a moment, and you don't know whether you should slap her, run away, or cry. You said those words to yourself every day in the mirror, maybe not out loud, but you could see them in every disgusting cell in your body. No one could love you. Girls like you don't get to be happy. Those thoughts drove you to madness, to complete and utter heartbreak, and in the end they very nearly killed you.

You will not let anyone else get that far. Not if you can help it.

"Casey, that's a lie. Your dad would kill and die for you. And I know other people love you too, even if they're bad at showing it."

"How bad are we talking?"

You manage a small smile. "Really bad. Some of them might not call you for years."

"Sounds like a real asshole." Her smile is returning, and you're more than a little relieved to see it. You squeeze her shoulder lightly once more before letting go.

"Mm-hmm. Sometimes assholes are worth listening to, though. So are you going to talk to someone?"

She's hesitant, but she nods. "Probably. I can't say it'll be soon."

Relief washes over you, undoing the knot in your stomach that you weren't aware was building. "Whenever you want to, as long as you actually go through with it."

"I will. Now look, I'm not even being sarcastic when I say this was a good talk and all, but I kinda came here for a dinner date…"

"Right, right. Let me go pry him away from his playbills." Your heart is heavy with the burden of a whole other person's well being, and yet somehow you feel lighter than you have in years. Worrying over her and Adam should hurt, but it doesn't. Your mind is at ease and your footsteps steady and purposeful as you move towards his bedroom.

You glance over your shoulder for one last look, only to find Casey slumped forward. She's quiet this time, without even a sniffle, and the smile on her face is wide. You'll keep an eye on her for certain, but you have a feeling she will be okay. In the meantime you might need a few minutes with a close friend and a hug before you send him off to greet her.