Disclaimer for the length, width, height and weight of the story:
I do not own Higher Ground and all affiliated characters and plot
lines (Fox does and deserves to be sued for their gross misuse of a
splendid idea and concept. Damn you corporate scum). I do not own Ireland
and/or the language, people or customs of Ireland. I own the characters,
past and actions of Rowan, Gabe, Dwayne, Jaime, Jasper and all characters I
add in. Any similarities to true events and people in this story were
unintentional of the author.
General Audience may pay attention now- Major props shall go out to Emer for teaching me a bit of Irish proof reading (she checks my detailing of Ireland and the Irish language/customs/people) Thanks! (I feel all smart and special..)
*********************************
Rowan woke up to find Gabe sitting on his chest. Not giggling, not sleeping, just sitting and staring at him. Maybe thinking. "Hello," said Rowan.
"Jasper said to tell you that it was raining in Ireland like a drunk man pisses."
"Um, ok. Thanks Gabe. Anything else?"
"He wants to know if you'd like to visit Ireland with him."
"What?" Rowan sat up and Gabe rolled backwards off his chest onto Rowan's feet. "Hey, where's Captain Spoon Bear Man?" Rowan tried to distract his mind from reeling as he ran Gabe's last words through again.
"He's getting a bath in the washing machine."
"Not your idea?"
"No." Gabe sounded pouty. Rowan yanked his legs out from underneath Gabe's slim body. Here was the intelligence in sleeping and wearing your shoes. He reached down and picked a shirt off the floor. Sniffed the 'Anna Nicole Smith Ate My Little Brother' shirt - it didn't smell too bad. "You wore that yesterday."
"So."
"And the day before that. And the day before that. AND you-"
"OK, I get the point. I'll wash it later."
"OK. Hey! Captain Spoon Bear Man should be ready to be dried now! Maybe I can get into the dryer too!" Gabe sprinted off though Rowan shouted for him to stay out of the dryer. Rowan walked to Peter's office, feeling too old at the moment to run. Like he expected, Jasper sat there waiting. "Where have you been? I told Gabe to wake you up an hour ago."
"Yeah, well Gabe fell through. He spent the hour watching me sleep. Your idea to wash the Bear?" Jasper nodded. "Nice move. I've been trying to think of a way to do it without him noticing. So how was Dublin?"
"Nice. Snowy and raining."
"It's Ireland."
"I noticed. But I talked to the manager of the tour I'm with and mentioned your name. He remembered you- Billy Watkins, did the last tour you were on?" Rowan nodded, waiting for Jasper to get to the part where he was invited to go back to Ireland. "He wants to know if you'll guest on the tour for a couple of days- like 3 weeks."
"Really?" Great, thought Rowan. I tried to sound all cool and collected yet I come out sounding like a 12-year-old boy going through puberty.
"Yeh. We'll go a week and a half in Dublin- show every other day after a few days to get comfy in the routines, practice every day, 7 hours-"
"Run the show twice with one break?"
"Right. Then we'll hit Limerick for a few days and then to Cork. Major cities."
"We're not hanging around An DĂșn*?"
"The tour is doubling back but after your guest is over. You're on the strum up enthusiasm leg. Sorry."
"No, it's ok. So what else? Pay? Lodging?"
"Pay, pay, well there's a deduction for the lodging- which you'll be doing with the rest of the group but. $650 a week." Rowan coughed. Not the figure he had expected. "You're guesting! And besides, you're only knifing."
"Only?!"
"Yeah, me and you. But you'll probably get a nice bonus at the end. Think of it as an opportunity."
"Yeah. Opportunity. Sure."
"Speaking of knifing, how are you? I told Billy that you were at your peak. Tell me you're somewhere in that vicinity."
"Nearly. I've worked on a couple new tricks on my own but JuV and other such detention centers don't give you loads of places to practice or the materials to do so."
*Down in Irish (the county)
(later) Rowan leaned against the shower wall, letting the sweat and water roll off him to puddle on the floor and drain. He felt too tired to stand here but enough people complained about his smell after the practice session that he felt obligated to bathe. Maybe even put clothing into the laundry circuit. His mind felt dead though. Strange how the thought that went into throwing a knife into the air and catching it could numb your mind. True, it was a butterknife because Peter wouldn't allow anything else but those suckers hurt if they slapped you in the wrong places.
He palmed a load of shampoo and rubbed it into his hair. Remembered when he had dreads, how much it had annoyed him that his hair had been always so stiff and nasty but even hygiene was less important than pissing off Dwayne. Dragging his hands down he felt the jagged pink scar that traced the side of his face. One day he would have to explain that scar to Gabe. One day he would have to explain a lot of things to Gabe. Not right now though. Gabe was healing; talking a little about. now was time for Gabe.
He held his hands up to the sputtering water, watched as water rinsed soap from each little nick that had healed the wrong way and left a mark. Each little nick he had picked at, infected, until his hands hurt to close, until his hands hurt so much he felt better about the rest of himself.
Reluctantly Rowan turned off the water and rolled his torso, rolled out the kinks that nagged muscles in his back, in his arms, his neck. He had stopped showering with his boxers on, finally. A seven-year habit that he broke on his own, over the course of 3 months, complete with panic attacks that Auggie overheard once and misread, but now he couldn't tell anyone of his victory because no one would understand. They couldn't know the terror he felt whenever he undressed, no matter how sure he was that he had locked the door or how many towels he put over the window until it was safely fogged beyond sight. How scared he was to fall asleep, what might happen in his dreams, in real life. There were some things people couldn't understand.
He reached down for clean clothes and began to dress. He always felt better when he was covered up and no one could see his infected and disfigured skin.
General Audience may pay attention now- Major props shall go out to Emer for teaching me a bit of Irish proof reading (she checks my detailing of Ireland and the Irish language/customs/people) Thanks! (I feel all smart and special..)
*********************************
Rowan woke up to find Gabe sitting on his chest. Not giggling, not sleeping, just sitting and staring at him. Maybe thinking. "Hello," said Rowan.
"Jasper said to tell you that it was raining in Ireland like a drunk man pisses."
"Um, ok. Thanks Gabe. Anything else?"
"He wants to know if you'd like to visit Ireland with him."
"What?" Rowan sat up and Gabe rolled backwards off his chest onto Rowan's feet. "Hey, where's Captain Spoon Bear Man?" Rowan tried to distract his mind from reeling as he ran Gabe's last words through again.
"He's getting a bath in the washing machine."
"Not your idea?"
"No." Gabe sounded pouty. Rowan yanked his legs out from underneath Gabe's slim body. Here was the intelligence in sleeping and wearing your shoes. He reached down and picked a shirt off the floor. Sniffed the 'Anna Nicole Smith Ate My Little Brother' shirt - it didn't smell too bad. "You wore that yesterday."
"So."
"And the day before that. And the day before that. AND you-"
"OK, I get the point. I'll wash it later."
"OK. Hey! Captain Spoon Bear Man should be ready to be dried now! Maybe I can get into the dryer too!" Gabe sprinted off though Rowan shouted for him to stay out of the dryer. Rowan walked to Peter's office, feeling too old at the moment to run. Like he expected, Jasper sat there waiting. "Where have you been? I told Gabe to wake you up an hour ago."
"Yeah, well Gabe fell through. He spent the hour watching me sleep. Your idea to wash the Bear?" Jasper nodded. "Nice move. I've been trying to think of a way to do it without him noticing. So how was Dublin?"
"Nice. Snowy and raining."
"It's Ireland."
"I noticed. But I talked to the manager of the tour I'm with and mentioned your name. He remembered you- Billy Watkins, did the last tour you were on?" Rowan nodded, waiting for Jasper to get to the part where he was invited to go back to Ireland. "He wants to know if you'll guest on the tour for a couple of days- like 3 weeks."
"Really?" Great, thought Rowan. I tried to sound all cool and collected yet I come out sounding like a 12-year-old boy going through puberty.
"Yeh. We'll go a week and a half in Dublin- show every other day after a few days to get comfy in the routines, practice every day, 7 hours-"
"Run the show twice with one break?"
"Right. Then we'll hit Limerick for a few days and then to Cork. Major cities."
"We're not hanging around An DĂșn*?"
"The tour is doubling back but after your guest is over. You're on the strum up enthusiasm leg. Sorry."
"No, it's ok. So what else? Pay? Lodging?"
"Pay, pay, well there's a deduction for the lodging- which you'll be doing with the rest of the group but. $650 a week." Rowan coughed. Not the figure he had expected. "You're guesting! And besides, you're only knifing."
"Only?!"
"Yeah, me and you. But you'll probably get a nice bonus at the end. Think of it as an opportunity."
"Yeah. Opportunity. Sure."
"Speaking of knifing, how are you? I told Billy that you were at your peak. Tell me you're somewhere in that vicinity."
"Nearly. I've worked on a couple new tricks on my own but JuV and other such detention centers don't give you loads of places to practice or the materials to do so."
*Down in Irish (the county)
(later) Rowan leaned against the shower wall, letting the sweat and water roll off him to puddle on the floor and drain. He felt too tired to stand here but enough people complained about his smell after the practice session that he felt obligated to bathe. Maybe even put clothing into the laundry circuit. His mind felt dead though. Strange how the thought that went into throwing a knife into the air and catching it could numb your mind. True, it was a butterknife because Peter wouldn't allow anything else but those suckers hurt if they slapped you in the wrong places.
He palmed a load of shampoo and rubbed it into his hair. Remembered when he had dreads, how much it had annoyed him that his hair had been always so stiff and nasty but even hygiene was less important than pissing off Dwayne. Dragging his hands down he felt the jagged pink scar that traced the side of his face. One day he would have to explain that scar to Gabe. One day he would have to explain a lot of things to Gabe. Not right now though. Gabe was healing; talking a little about. now was time for Gabe.
He held his hands up to the sputtering water, watched as water rinsed soap from each little nick that had healed the wrong way and left a mark. Each little nick he had picked at, infected, until his hands hurt to close, until his hands hurt so much he felt better about the rest of himself.
Reluctantly Rowan turned off the water and rolled his torso, rolled out the kinks that nagged muscles in his back, in his arms, his neck. He had stopped showering with his boxers on, finally. A seven-year habit that he broke on his own, over the course of 3 months, complete with panic attacks that Auggie overheard once and misread, but now he couldn't tell anyone of his victory because no one would understand. They couldn't know the terror he felt whenever he undressed, no matter how sure he was that he had locked the door or how many towels he put over the window until it was safely fogged beyond sight. How scared he was to fall asleep, what might happen in his dreams, in real life. There were some things people couldn't understand.
He reached down for clean clothes and began to dress. He always felt better when he was covered up and no one could see his infected and disfigured skin.
