I do not own American Horror Story: Freak Show.
But it will always be near and dear to my heart.
And Baby Makes Four
Courage
They had felt safe.
Perhaps too safe.
Not anymore.
And like hermit crabs, they responded to unease and the threat of harm by drawing into themselves.
Shutting out the outside world.
Hiding away.
And staying there.
Indefinitely.
Until the threat went away.
But their threat would not go away, would never go away.
Their threat was the whole world and everything in it.
And, barring the advent of some strange Twilight Zone-esque apocalypse, the world and all its inhabitants were never going to go away.
And Bette and Dot . . .
"Okay, lovely ladies, let's go to WoolWorth's!"
"Oh no, I, uh, we, uh . . ."
". . . have so much to do . . ."
". . . We couldn't possibly . . ."
"Ma-Ba, Ma-Da, I want to go to the park."
"Oh dear, Annabel, well, um, it looks like it might rain . . ."
"Rain comes from clouds. There's not a cloud in the sky!"
"Oh, well . . ."
. . . were resolutely resisting every effort made to draw them out.
Jimmy had no such opportunities for hiding.
He owned a business, ran a store, small but strong.
He also brought home the only money the family received.
And so he went out to face the world everyday, save Sundays.
And the world . . .
"Lost those in 'Nam, huh? Fightin' a war we never should have been in?"
"Uh, no, not exactly-"
"I'll tell you what though, those damn Charlies . . ."
. . . generally passed him over relatively quickly.
While Dot and Bette . . .
We'll just send Jimmy out later to get the mail.
Yes. That seems like a good idea.
. . . now desperately sought the refuge they had once . . .
"I want to go to a movie, Momma!"
"I want to go to a play!"
. . . fought so hard against.
And so it went for weeks and weeks until the phone rang one day.
Bette picked it up, hating even this small interaction.
I wish we could speak to Jimmy and Annabel the way we speak to each other.
Yes, then we would never have to risk talking to outsiders again.
Heaven.
But knowing it might involve their darling Jimmy or precious Annabel, they answered the phone.
"Hello?"
As it turned out . . .
"Hello, Mrs. Walker?"
. . . it did.
Annabel had been taking piano lessons in the afternoons from Miss Wall.
She was getting pretty good.
Good enough that Miss Wall . . .
"Why not?! I've been practicing really hard and Miss Wall says I'm ready!"
. . . wanted her to be in a recital at city hall.
"Annabel, honey, you don't understand-"
Blue and brown eyes glared up at them.
"No, I don't! You said I didn't do anything wrong but I'm being punished because you never do anything fun with me anymore! You never do anything but sit and worry!"
Jimmy stepped forward then, voice uncharacteristically stern.
"Annabel! Don't talk like that to your mothers!"
Annabel's lower lip trembled.
"I just want Ma-Da and Ma-Ba to proud of me! Be happy again!"
Then she burst into tears and ran crying to her room.
Damn it all to Hell, Jimmy thought in numbed shock. What do I do now, Ma?
And he turned to his beloved wives.
Wives who had been so withdrawn lately, eyes downcast.
Voices almost nonexistent.
Spirits pale and fading as of late.
"Hey . . ." he tried to begin.
And then they burst into tears as well, stumbling from their kitchen sanctuary and down the hall.
Shutting the bedrooms door behind them.
Leaving Jimmy . . .
Shit.
. . . alone.
Oh sister, we've been selfish and made our daughter unhappy.
I know, Dot. I never meant to. I've just been . . .
. . . scared. Yes, I know. So have I.
I didn't even know she was practicing for a recital. I didn't even know she was good enough.
I just feel so guilty, sister.
Yes, me too.
And they cried themselves to sleep.
Jimmy tried not to make anyone ever do anything they . . .
"Don't know how to help them, Lucy."
. . . didn't want to do.
"They just won't listen to me, Kathy."
But he was getting desperate.
His darlings were slipping farther and farther away.
From him.
And Annabel, who needed her mothers.
Jimmy had been upset too at the whole thing.
But he was forced to go into the world everyday.
Face people who may or may not through gossip and hearsay, know anything at all about his personal life.
He was forced to face them.
Interact.
And live.
Bette and Dot on the other hand, had lived the first part of their lives, mostly in their own heads.
And to that safe place, they seemed to have returned.
"Apart from bodily carrying them to the recital, Jimmy, I can't force them to go."
But their friends were not failing them now.
"But I can promise that barring illness, we will be there."
The night of recital arrived.
Annabel having been granted the privilege of spending the afternoon with Kathy and her family.
Who would be attending the evening's festivities.
Though no one was certain of the same of Dot . . .
I just don't think I can.
Annabel will be so disappointed, sister.
. . . and Bette.
Who . . .
Well, she doesn't have to live our lives, does she?!
No, she doesn't.
. . . were well and truly miserable.
They paced and wrung their hands together.
Sister-
Sister-
We must-
I know-
The dress was several years old, sewn in a lighter, happier time of their lives.
Black cotton with a wide neck and slim three quarter sleeves.
Ruched waistline.
A wide blue and gold swirl design decorating half of the full skirt which fell to just below their knees.
Paired with black flats as was their custom.
Blue and gold headbands to match.
A simple, lovely frock.
But quite fancy for them.
And it was the only apparel that would suffice for the importance of the evening.
If they could only find it within themselves to step out of their bedroom door.
And go.
Sister-
I can't.
For our daughter.
Dot-
I know. Me too.
Let's go.
Jimmy, anxiously waiting until the last minute to leave, hopeful his wives would find the courage to once more face the entire world right in their small town, sat on the couch.
And rose with burgeoning hope as Bette and Dot shakily entered the living rooms, faces masks of strain and determination.
He smiled warmly at his wives, heart pounding through his two toned, button up shirt.
"You look beautiful."
They thought they smiled.
"Thank you, Jimmy."
And then found they could not move.
He did for them, to their sides, gently kissing their cheeks.
"You two okay?"
They trembled.
"No. Let's go."
And they went.
There were too many people in the auditorium.
Too many people to look at them.
Stare. Whisper.
Kathy had saved two seats, though she had only mentioned the one to Annabel.
Thomas patted Jimmy's shoulder and spoke.
"Brought the whole family to cheer for her. And I see you did too! Excellent!"
Lucy and Kathy hugged the sisters.
George and Patty waved and resumed talking to their friends who had also been dragged along by their parents to see various cousins and neighbors.
While most of the crowd, in the meantime, had grown silent.
Save for uncomfortable shuffles and behind the hand murmurs.
Sister-
We are here for Annabel, Bette.
. . . Yes.
And they sat down and pretended not to notice.
It was difficult.
Fighting the nausea and the stomach cramps and the nervous bladder . . .
I'm not going to make it, sister.
Oh yes, we are, sister. Well make it together, sister.
. . . they both shared.
There was a sizable list of performers listed on the docket.
Most in attendance.
Annabel was about midway through.
They stoically sat through tubas, cellos, violins.
And a few piano pieces.
So far as they could care to tell, Annabel was one of the younger performers . . .
Oh she's just too young for this, Dot!
. . . of the evening.
And it was a long wait.
Each performer amd their piece of introduced by their mentor.
Ms. Wall finally announced . . .
". . . very proud to introduce Miss Annabel Walker, a third grade student in my classroom. She will be playing "Prelude to a Well-Tempered Clavichord" by Johann Sebastian Bach."
Oh dear lord, sister, that sounds positively dreadful!
So intimidating!
What's a clavichord?
I think it's a bone on the ne-
And suddenly, to dutiful applause, their dear Annabel appeared onstage.
Her blond hair was set back in a simple pony to keep her face free of distraction.
A pure white ribbon wreathed the waist of her deep blue dress.
She wore the customary little girl white lacy ankle socks but sported her comfortable white Sevees instead of black church shoes.
Oh my goodness, Bette! She just looks so beautiful!
A little angel!
Annabel moved to the piano and sat down carefully.
She looked so alone and tiny, the sisters were tidalwaved with terror.
Oh what we're we thinking, Bette?!
She's too little to do this, Dot! Something awful is going to happen!
Silence reigned for a moment.
And then their daughter began to play.
It was a beautiful light, lilting melody.
Simple in execution yet ethereal in feel.
Played at half tempo than originally intended.
Though Bette and Dot did not know it.
All they knew was that it was transportative and wonderful.
Oh sister . . .
I never knew . . .
And then, Annabel faltered.
Hitting a wrong note, then two.
And the piano stopped dead.
Annabel frozen solid upon the bench, her face pinched and fixed, fingers inches from the black and white keys.
Bette and Dot caught their breathes in sudden striking fear.
Oh god, sister!
Our baby!
And just as they were about to rise, sprint to the stage and spirit their precious little girl away, Annabel lowered her fingers.
And continued playing.
Smoothly, flawlessly.
Directly from where she had left off.
The sisters did not move, they did not breathe.
They listened to their daughter and for their daughter.
Until the last chord faded away.
And Annabel Margaret Walker lifted her fingers from the piano and put them in her lap.
The audience clapped politely.
At least Bette and Dot thought they did.
Because as Annabel rose from the piano bench, her mothers had already leapt to their feet.
Tears of happiness and pride streaming down their faces, clapping so hard it hurt their hands.
A nervous Annabel faced the crowd to curtsey.
Caught the outline of her mothers' unique frame.
And a huge smile lit up her entire face as she shouted for all the auditorium to hear.
"Ma-Ba! Ma-Da!"
And instead of returning backstage as instructed, Dot and Bette Tattler-Darling-Walker's little girl jumped off stage and ran down the aisle.
Straight into her mothers' arms.
Dot and Bette didn't hear the heartfelt 'awws' of those in attendance over the sound of their daughter's ecstatic cries.
"You came! You came!"
"Yes, baby, we did!"
"You were wonderful, Annabel!"
"Are you proud of me? I messed up but I didn't quit. I just kept going like Ms. Wall said. Are you proud?"
"So proud, baby, so proud!"
"Hey, Daddy!"
"Hey, Annabel!"
"Look! Ma-Da and Ma-Ba are here!"
"I know, Annabel, isn't that great?"
"Yes!"
And she sat contentedly on her Ma-Da and Ma-Ba's lap for the remainder of the recital.
Amd nobody came to take her away.
"She's asleep."
Jimmy looked up from detaching his hands.
"Oh good. I didn't think she be able to sleep, she was so excited."
Bette chuckled, massaging a stump carefully.
"Neither did we."
Dot massaged the other.
"We wanted to thank you, Jimmy. For your kindness and patience through all this."
He smiled gently at them, dimples still there after all those years.
"Hey, we take care of each other, right?"
The sisters nodded.
"Yes, we do. We love you, Jimmy."
"I love you girls, too."
They drew him in for a kiss and he returned it gratefully.
It was nice to be reconnected again after awhile if not physically, emotionally apart.
But as he started to pull away, they drew him back.
"Come back here, Mr. Walker . . ."
". . . we're not done with you yet."
And Jimmy, though pleasantly surprised, obliged them.
It had, after all, been a while.
Wheew! Well, I hope you enjoyed that. I certainly did.
Thanks brigid1318 and King Reeses for reviewing! You guys are wonderfully encouraging. :)
See you again soon for more of the story!