'Cause it's a bittersweet symphony, this life

Try to make ends meet, you're a slave to the money

Then you die

I'll take you down the only road I've ever been down

You know the one that takes you to the places

Where all the things meet

Well I've never prayed, but tonight I'm on my knees

I need to hear some sounds that recognize the pain in me

I let the melodies shine, let it cleanse my mind

I'll feel free now

But the airways are clean, and there's nobody singing to me now.

THE VERVE

Chapter 4

The world races with blinders.  In the effort to progress, human beings have a need to bypass the illogical, the untypical…anything that might slow them down in their bolt towards the finish line, where the ultimate uncertainty lay, and even that is ignored until the last few steps.  All that is even seen lay right in front of them:  a dangling carrot, never reached, forever elusive, yet always just as tempting.

Things need to be simple, easy, justifiable, sensible…normal.

There are a few who beg to differ.  Rebels who dare to slow down, to take a good look around.  It comes with a heavy lot, to truly see the world with a different view.  These people revolutionize; sometimes it's a good thing.  Sometimes not.

One thing is certain about those few who've taken the time to see, to digest the world in which they live.  Nothing can ever be normal again.  Everything is wrong, and, for the most part, these rabble-rousers do what they can to make it right.  To instill change.  And they are happy to never be satisfied.  Progress is born.

Yet, in some ways, normalcy dominates, even with evolution.

There are instances when the blinders are ripped away, without provocation, without pretense, without intent.  The world crumbles, nothing makes sense, and those people are left flailing, desperate to recapture the mundane, preferring ignorance to the truth, clinging to denial like a lifeline.  It's enough to drive a person to insanity.  Derealization settles in, life becomes a waking nightmare, and the only tether left is the mad rush to get back to normal.

Normal.  Yeah.  That's what people need.

****

Holidays just weren't as fun as they used to be.

Bustling through annoyingly crowded aisles, cursorily scanning the ransacked shelves for last minute additions to what he already knew would be an outrageous cornucopia of traditional Christmas recipes, Matthew Honeycutt ran fingers through his slightly tousled blonde hair, feeling entirely out of place amidst the shoppers, though the majority were also men, fathers, brothers, and sons sent to do just what he was doing, with about as much success.  Still, none of them were sporting expensive cashmere suits and calf-length tweed coats, with disgustingly expensive leather shoes and gloves.  He looked fresh from the big city, and with every pair of new eyes that bored through him when they thought he wasn't looking, he came that much closer to going straight out to his nice platinum Mercedes and driving back.

Finally ending his scavenger hunt with a sneaky take of the last of the crushed cranberries, he cruised awkwardly through the checkout, nearly cursing when he recognized the cashier to be a former cheerleader from Robert E. Lee.  Keeping his head low, he was relieved to have avoided recognition, practically running out of the grocery store into the waiting wash of freezing rain and sleet.  He made no attempt to cover his head, moving as quickly as one could when wearing loafers on ice, weaving through the small parking lot and hitting the sidewalk, sliding a few times but no worse for wear.  He'd parallel parked the extravagant company car he'd borrowed for the trip to avoid any dents or dings while in his possession, though equal consideration had likely never been taken by his peers, given their decadent natures.  He certainly dressed like a blueblood, but that came with the being an intern in a top-notch brokerage; he hoped to get through with his homegrown personality still untainted, and, for the most part, he had.

Coming home was another matter.  He still wished he'd been able to convince his mother to come to D.C. instead of having to return to Fell's Church, but his only surviving parent would have none of it, and he'd known from the start that he'd be forced to make the annual trek back, but foreknowledge never made it any easier.  His memories of the town in which he grew up were forever scarred, haunted with fears, however unwarranted, of what had happened, and what very well could happen.  Sure, that story had ended on a good note, but he knew without reservation that he never, ever wanted to experience anything like that again.  Time and time again, he just wished he could forget that those events had transpired, that those people, those monsters, had existed…and still did exist.

He reached the car, looking just about as ostentatious as he felt amidst the drab storefronts and dimly lit slushy streets.  Fishing the key chain from his pocket, he pressed a button to disengage the alarm, shivering and soaked in spite of his layers, his hair matted to his forehead and cold rain dripping from his nose and chin.  As eager as he was to get out of the storm and out of his business clothes, he paused with his hand on the door, feeling eyes on him once again, anger more than curiosity causing him to peer out from beneath wet lashes to locate the source.  He didn't need to search for long, blue gaze singling out an obvious on-looker from across the street, shadowed somewhat by the spread of an umbrella.  He squinted, shoulders hunched and teeth chattering, and at first thought the gawker to be a stranger, yet another local who found a high-priced car worth braving the cold for.  His numb fingers fumbled with the latch, his intent to dismiss the person without a second thought.  He averted his gaze for but a moment, and noticed out of the corner of his eye that the person was now moving, and so he did a double-take, now entirely out of curiosity, only to see that the woman—yes, definitely a woman, as his eyes lingered long enough to take note this time—had traveled further down the sidewalk, apparently to have a closer look.

Her hair was tucked beneath a woolen beret, a matching muffler around her neck and folded neatly beneath the lapel of her leather jacket.  It bothered him how obvious she was being, having paused to gape at him from where she stood, apparently without fear of being caught.  He didn't know why he was currently engaging in a stare-down, but realized, after some moments of more pointed inspection, that the woman looked somehow familiar…something about her posture, the way she stood, so casual, yet confident…

"No way," he muttered, his arms falling to his sides limply, though he managed to hang on to the plastic bag in his hand.  He straightened, now ignorant of the cold and the rain, as the woman lifted a gloved hand in a tentative wave.  He felt a smile tease one corner of his mouth, his legs moving of their own accord to carry him to the other side of the street, heedless of the traffic or the ice.  Steps slowing as he mounted the curb, eyes never having left hers, he heard himself laugh, disbelief rendering him momentarily speechless, and elation keeping him from doing anything else.

His haze was shattered when she, as smooth as always, with a wry smirk upon her mouth and a sparkle in her dark eyes, took the incentive and broke the silence between them.

"Hi, Matt."

Those two words made it more real, his smile widening impossibly further, as he contemplated the chances of this meeting.  He wondered whether she was as flabbergasted as he felt, but knowing her, if she was, he'd never know.

"Hey, Meredith."

****

"Nice suit, by the way."

Matt grimaced, lips and tongue now burnt by a hasty sip of coffee, peeking at Meredith over the edge of the Styrofoam cup and quirking a bemused brow, mirroring the look she now wore with comedic flair.  She chuckled and shook her head, elbows propped on the table between them, her hands cradling her own steaming beverage just in front of her face.  He glanced down at his pants, drenched to the knee, and shrugged.

"Not anymore."

They'd barely spoken since their initial hellos and Meredith's offer to get something warm to drink, settling on a coffee shop that had been a favorite high school hang-out, back when they'd been nothing but normal teenagers.  It was hard to have shallow small talk with someone who shared the same lot, who knew too much, who bore the burden of having been best friends with Elena.

Matt cleared his throat, knowing that if the silence went on for too long, things would surface that were better left buried.  "So, what have you been up to?  Still in North Carolina?"

She was staring into her cup, and he took the opportunity to examine all the little nuances that together made Meredith Sulez, taking note of what had changed and what had stayed the same.  Her hair was just as long as it had ever been, the same chestnut strands smooth and stylish in spite of having been kept under a hat, though styled a little differently, long layers framing her face.  Make-up was sparse, some gloss here, a little blush there, but with her complexion and classic features, anything more would have been too much, in his opinion.  She simply didn't need it.  He caught himself glancing at her left hand for the presence of a ring when her voice brought him back.

"I'm working on my master's, planning a trip to Africa this spring for some research on my thesis."  She brought her cup to her lips, blowing lightly before taking a careful taste, then averting her gaze towards the large storefront window.  It seemed to him that she was avoiding looking directly at him, though any reason to think so had yet to present itself.

"Africa?  Wow."  He bowed his head, hands fidgeting in his lap.  "What's your major?" he continued haltingly, her statement having left him feeling slightly unaccomplished.

"Economics."  She didn't bother to embellish, their attempts at playing catch-up already lackluster.  Both knew the conversation would have a common head, no matter from which point they started; all roads led to…well, might as well try to delay the inevitable.  "What about you?" she queried, her tone subtly changing, lighter, more amiable.  She nodded at his apparel, catching a glimpse of the car parked outside with a sidelong glance.  "You seem to be doing quite well."

Again, he shrugged, leaning forward to fold his arms upon the table.  "It's not mine, if that's what you're thinking," he muttered, jerking a thumb towards the Mercedes.  "Company car.  But yeah, I guess I'm doing okay.  Got my MBA and I'm working for a firm in Washington."

"So your mother told me," Meredith quipped, chagrin evident in her voice. He stiffened, though didn't raise his eyes, instead resorting to his old habit of running a hand over the crown of his head to rest on his nape, his hair still in disarray, a collection of damp shocks pointing in all directions.  She continued on, pressured to explain herself by his silence.  "I've taken to checking up once in a while.  Hoping to bump into someone, I suppose."

He shifted uneasily, reclining away from the table, his hands in his lap.  "I see.  Looks like you got lucky."

"Matt, it's not like I've been stalking you," she playfully admonished, hoping to lighten his mood.  "I'm just curious.  We used to be friends, remember?"

He peered at her from beneath his lashes, finally giving a sigh of resignation, casting an aimless look around the shop.  "Yes."

"It's been a long time," she added quietly, brushing dark strands behind her ear.  "I might have been more reluctant to leave Fell's Church if I would've thought it meant not seeing anyone for five years."

I wouldn't have, Matt rebuffed silently, slumped in his seat and toying with his tie.  He knew his stillness would only prove to make the atmosphere even more uncomfortable, but at the moment, he didn't care.  What did she want him to say?  That he was happy to see her?  In some ways, he was; the best friendships are borne of trials and perilous circumstance, and he would forever be grateful to have known Meredith, to be one of the few to know her like no one else ever would.  Yet, it was precisely because of that same bond, that one treacherous period in their lives that they'd shared, that it pained him so to see her, to be on the brink of speaking of things he'd hoped to never discuss again.  There simply was nothing else holding them together; that bridge had been burned, and he had no plans of constructing another with such an unstable foundation.

And yet, try as he might, he was human, after all.  Grudgingly, he met her gaze, taking the bait she'd thrown him.  "So who else have you been keeping tabs on?"

Her posture seemed forced, as though his reaction hadn't been what she'd expected, and somewhat deflated because of it.  She turned away from him, again opting to stare out the window, the last light of the day having already melted into darkness.  Her eyes were a bit too shiny, causing Matt to frown and lean forward, elbows supporting his weight.  He didn't prompt her when she took her time in gathering her words together, though seeing her a little ruffled made him a bit anxious.  When she finally sighed and averted her gaze to him again, she'd blinked back the wetness, offering him a dismissive shrug.

"There is no one else."  Her tone betrayed the ache that she obviously felt, and in spite of his resolution to remain ambivalent, he was mildly shocked by her statement.

"What…what do you mean, 'no one else'?" he prodded, eyes narrowing.  "Has something—"

Meredith waved a hand to curb any voiced assumptions, conjuring up a chuckle in an effort to dissipate the tension.  "No, no, I didn't mean it to sound that way, Matt.  But…" She paused, tapping lightly on the side of her coffee cup.  "…to be honest, I wouldn't know.  I was beginning to think everyone had simply fallen off the face of the earth, until I got up the courage to contact your mother."

Matt shook his head, his mouth drawn into a pensive line. "So, you haven't heard about…"  He let the sentence trail off, brows rising suggestively.  He wasn't ready to start spouting off names.  He hoped he wouldn't have to.

"No one."  A pregnant pause interrupted as they both succumbed to the memories that had been pressing in, a silent third party from the beginning.  "I mean, it's a little much to hope for, I suppose, but…"  She let her dark eyes level with his, her head canting slightly as she studied his face.  "God, it's good to see you."

In an instant, the cloud had passed, the darkness abating to allow one brilliant snapshot to be added to the collection of fading mental souvenirs from times when there had been no knowledge, only blissful ignorance and naïveté.  With a somber smile, he reached a hand across the table, his palm upwards. Slipping her hand into his warm grasp, she squeezed, her own smile holding steady, though her tears threatened once more.  She watched as he lifted her hand, lips pressing against her skin briefly, a gesture to offer up quiet solace.  A comfortable silence descended, and they were content to leave it be, her hand smothered in both of his.  Close enough to touch, but still a million miles apart.