December 1979
She wrapped Eric's old winter flannel coat around her body. Kitty had officially made all her jeans maternity clothes, and bought her new shirts.
The effort had made her smile lightly, as if she had actually had a mother.
Jeremy Foreman, Attorney at Law. The sign on the door read. "Are you ready, kid?" Red's voice was gruff when they paused at the door. She laughed. "No. I'm about to tell my mother to get off my property."
Red snorted. "Yeah, having shitty parents is shitty, isn't it?" He looked at her. She pursed her lips. "Steven leaving had nothing to do with you guys." She looked down. Red shrugged. "We could have given him more direction, I suppose."
"You and Kitty are fantastic parents. Please, please don't doubt that." She begged. Silence.
"It doesn't feel wrong. I just feel guilty." She sighed. "But, I need the money from the house for a nest egg. For me and my son. And, my mother made it very clear I am no longer her family."
"You're hell-bent that this baby is a boy, aren't you?" He asked, knocking on the door.
"I just, think it's a boy." She shrugged. The door opened, and a young man stood there. She coughed. "You're Jeremy?" She asked. He laughed.
"Oh, God, no. I'm his son." He flashed his pearly whites at her. "My name is Austin."
She nodded, placing a hand over her swollen belly. "Jackie." She shook his hand. Red coughed.
"Hey, Uncle Red." He smiled tightly.
"Stop flirting with her." He deadpanned, pushing past the boy. Jackie quirked a brow, before entering the building as well, and taking off her coat.
"Red!" Jeremy smiled, coming out of his office, and making the older man smile. The two looked alike. "Jackie, this is my cousin Jeremy. Jeremy, this is... erm..." He thought for a moment. "Jackie here is like one of my own." He finalized, pulling a chair out for her, which she gratefully sat in.
"So, this is a home owner's dispute?" He asked. She nodded. "There's a squatter living in my property, and I'm intending to sell. The squatter is my crazy mother, and she refuses to leave. So, before I sell the property, I just need to make sure I'm covered."
He nodded at her, looking over the paper work. "I see. Whatever legal disputes, I will gladly help you. Consider it a favor."
"Oh, I can't possibly-"
"Nonsense. Family is family." She smiled, looking over at Red in appreciation. "Lets get this moving." Jeremy declared.
December 1984
He hung up the phone, and his world started spinning out of control. Like a tire stuck in the snow, or like he was on a never-ending tilt-a-whirl.
Or a Chevelle, sliding on the ice and into a telephone pole.
He sniffled, running a hand over his face, and trying to practice the mindfulness techniques that he had learned in rehab. He picked up the phone, dialing another familiar number.
The phone rang a few times, before it was picked up. "Angela Barnett's office." Julie's voice rang out.
"Hey, Jules." His voice was weak.
"Steven?" She asked, worried. "Kid, what's wrong?"
"I-" He sighed. "A lot. I need my sisters." He admitted.
"We'll be there as soon as we can." She assured.
The silence was back again, but knowing that his other family would be here soon, he felt slightly better. His trip to Vegas had been just that. A trip.
A hand was placed on his shoulder, and he turned around to be met with his psuedo-mother, all by her lonesome. Her features were set in a sympathetic, yet sad look. He sniffled, mouth turning into a frown, and two tears rolled down his cheeks.
"Oh, sweetie." She soothed, as she always had. The only people in his life to ever see him as vulnerable as this were Kitty Foreman, Jackie, his sister and her girlfriend, and Foreman. He sniffled, embracing her. She was half his height, but he still felt that safe feeling he had in his chest whenever she was around.
He sniffled, trying to hold in his emotions, but she looked up at him. "Everyone else is here for Jackie and Tyler, so why don't we take a walk?" He nodded, letting her link her arm in his, and they took off down the hallway.
December 1979
"Hyde!" A shrill voice rang out through the tiny, dingy apartment. He pulled the plaid pillow over his head, ignoring the shrill screams of his wife.
"Hyde!" She screeched again, and he threw the pillow off, angrily.
"What?" He asked, nostrils flared, voice raised.
It had been five months since he left Point Place, and every day that he had been gone had been his own personal hell. But, he was in too deep. He couldn't ditch his wife because he'd be a repeat of Bud.
He couldn't go home, because he was such a disaster that everyone would know, he was a chip off the ol' block. He was his mother's son. He rolled over, hands shivering as he moved from the creaky old bed.
Nevada sucked.
"There's hair in the drain." She whined. He snorted, picking up a bottle of beer from the table. "Call the landlord."
"You're the man of the house. You snake the drain."
"Sam, I don't wanna do this." He told her. "Call the fucking landlord."
She huffed dramatically, before slamming the door.
This was his life. His miserable, miserable life.
And at this point, he accepted it.