I do not own American Horror Story: Freakshow.
Yeah, this is pretty miserable and it's not getting any better for a while. But trust me, we're going somewhere.
And Baby Make Four
Stayin' Alive
By late 1975, Lucy Barrett had a secret.
A secret nobody knew about.
A secret she kept to herself.
At least until the next meal at the Walker house.
"I've registered to take a CPR class at the community center."
This revelation more confused than shook them.
Jimmy cheeked his bite of ham.
"What's CPR?"
Lucy toyed with her sliced potatoes.
"It's, uh, it's a medical technique used to temporarily keep someone alive who can't breathe on their own or whose heart has stopped."
Now the proper amount of awe waved over the table.
"Wow," Jimmy declared. "So you're gonna be a real, live lifesaver, huh?"
Lucy blushed.
"Well, I don't know about that. I haven't taken the class yet."
"When is it?" Bette queried.
"Saturday morning," Lucy replied, wiping her mouth with a napkin. "I've never done anything like it before. I'm really nervous, actually."
Dot reached over to her friend as Jimmy waved a wooden hand.
"Naw, you'll do great!"
And then he mixed his sweet tea with a bite of chicken a moment too soon and burst into a mild coughing fit.
"Are you okay, darling?"
"Eww, Dad, say it, don't spray it!"
Recovering, he shook his reddened face.
Breaking into another easy, albeit red-faced grin.
"None too soon anyway. I'm not gonna make it much longer on my own here."
"Jimmy!"
If only all of life could be so easy as counting breaths to beats during practice cardiopulmonary resuscitation on a plastic medical dummy named Annie.
But unfortunately . . .
"I don't quite know how to talk to you about this . . ."
. . . such was not the case.
Lucy, fiddling with her short, graying hair, seemed more nervous than Bette and Dot had seen her in a long time.
"What is it, Lucy? Is everything okay?"
Lucy pursed her lips together, seeming to fight for control of herself.
"I think Annabel is having some problems."
The sisters' faces instantly pinched with concern.
Lucy was typically not one . . .
"Well, now let's not jump to conclusions, ladies."
. . . to jump to conclusions.
"What do you mean?"
Another long pause ensued as Lucy fought some sort of internal battle.
"I think she's leading her friend that comes over to my house to believe she lives with me."
Bette and Dot sat in stunned silence.
What the-
-hell?!
"I don't quite know how it started," Lucy was confessing. "She said they were partners in chemistry or something and needed to study for a test . . ."
I'm going to kill our daughter, Bette.
No, you're not. I am.
" . . . didn't call me 'Mom' or anything . . . she just seemed to let it be implied."
What are we going to do, Sister?
I don't know, Dot.
"I . . . haven't spoke to her about it . . . I did hear her tell her friend she had to go because it was almost time to go over to 'the neighbor's house for supper'."
Oh my god.
"I'm . . . I'm so sorry if I . . . I didn't mean to-"
"No." Dot interrupted flatly. "This isn't your fault, Lucy. It's hers."
". . . pretend we're not even her family, Jimmy!"
It hurt him.
It hurt him so much.
And made him ashamed.
Ashamed that he could remembered feeling the same damn way.
Being ashamed of his lobster claws.
Hiding them in public in those godawful leather mittens he had gotten Evie to sew for him.
That was one reason he had been so angry with Dell at the time . . .
". . . Famous Toledo Lobster Clan!"
. . . before he'd even found out the rest of the shit.
I coulda belonged somewhere.
I coulda been accepted.
Hell, they would have been proud.
I coulda been proud of them.
And now here his daughter was.
Relatively unscathed.
Only mismatched irises to betray her freak genes.
And her connection to her family.
Handless wonder Jimmy.
Bette and Dot. The talking head duo.
He was quiet for a long time, his wives resigned to waiting on him to voice some sort of response.
"Maybe," he began hesitantly, feeling completed defeated and disheartened. "I don't know . . . maybe we should just let her keep her lie and be happy for a little while."
The sisters turned on him as one.
A double headed, fire-breathing dragon of motherhood.
"What?!"
Jimmy shook his head.
"I don't want her to be unhappy. It's so hard to feel like a . . . freak."
Bette's mouth opened and closed like a fish's.
Dot's fist clenched.
"We know, Jimmy! Look at us! You can go out into the world with your hooks and tell your logging story and be fine!"
But . . . you gave me that story. You wanted me to use it.
But he got it. He really did.
And his wives definitely got it.
"We are never fine! We are always stared at and ogled and the best we can hope for is for the good people to look directly at the head that's talking to them!"
They were somewhere in the middle of rage, hurt, and implosion.
"We're proud of ourselves now despite it all and Annabel's got to learn the same thing!"
Shame started to creep through the Former Lobster boy even as he tried to explain himself.
"The world's a cruel place! I don't want Annabel to be rejected and hate herself because of her family!"
His voice dropped and he hung his head.
"I could handle it when she just hated all of them . . ."
His wives knelt before him, lowering their voices as well, their explosive flame tempered by their love and determination for their family.
"We know, Jimmy. It hurts us too. We thought it would get better for her but it hasn't-"
"- and we're just as lost as you are trying to figure it all out . . ."
"Annabel, we know you're letting your new friend think you belong to Lucy."
They had waited to broach the subject . . .
Watch that bowl, sister-
-don't worry, Ma-Da's got her.
. . . until Annabel was elbow deep in banana pudding confectioning.
Now frozen, face a still statue of guilt and fear.
Dot's voice had been quiet, unassuming.
Nonjudgmental.
They hoped.
But . . .
"No, I didn't."
. . . any child caught in a hurtful, grievous sin of such magnitude would have surely panicked.
"Annabel, . . ."
Just as Annabel did now.
". . . Lucy told us you told your friend you had to go over to 'the neighbor's house' for supper."
Annabel's face was strained beyond all measure.
Nostrils flared, breath thin and hitching.
Her mouth opened and closed several times as she floundered for any suitable response.
When none was forthcoming, her mothers edged in again.
"It can't be easy having such a different family makeup," Dot began.
"We're not like everyone else," Bette continued. "We know that."
"But if you bring her over for a meal," Dot suggested lightly.
"She can get to know us," Bette concluded.
"Then you wouldn't feel like you had to hide."
Annabel's jaw was rigid.
"Let us call her mother and invite her to dinner one night this week."
"You can pick the day . . ."
". . . and the meal."
Their daughter was silent.
"Please, Annabel."
"We just want to support you and help you."
Annabel seemed to be attempting to think her way out of her conundrum.
Clever as they knew she was, couldn't seem to.
And finally raised her heterchromiated eyes to look piteously into her mothers' faces.
And summon a weak, fleeting smile.
"Okay."
Allowing then her mothers to gingerly approach her.
Wrap their arms around their daughter.
And lovingly hug her.
"We love you, Annabel."
Her words were barely audible and her slender body seemed ready to snap in half under their touch.
"I love you too."
Okay. Well, we got what we wanted.
Now we just have to make it work.
I don't know about you guys but I have a Fourth of July food hangover from hell. But that's OK it's better than other hangovers, right?
Anyway thanks to Brigid1318, autumnrose2010, and midnightrebellion86 for your reviews!
