A/N: I do not own a certain family of mutant turtles and rat. Neither do I claim Edward George Bulwer Lytton, (1803-1873), or his quote, "The pen is mightier than the sword." And for the record with regards to chapter 14, I do not own Wolfgang Puck. If I did, I would quit cooking entirely and probably become a lifer with a certain well known weight-loss program. =0) Enough said.
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The first few days after learning of Gracie's death, I was in a perpetual downward spiral of depression. I refused to come out of my room. I cried off and on; sometimes without warning. I'd be sitting there reading one of my books and then in the next moment be balling my eyes out. I couldn't stop it nor predict it. I thought my life would never be the same.
When I lived topside, Gracie had been my closest friend next to Crazy Bill. There were a few regulars at the diner that would ask how I was doing from time to time. But Gracie bridged that gulf that no man could possibly understand – not even Bill. She was, for lack of a better term, my best friend. I was devastated over her tragic passing.
Mike ended up doing all the cooking that week while Don was bedridden. I just didn't have the energy or the interest. Eating was a chore and I elected to take all my meals in my room. I did not want to share my grief with anyone.
This was how I was when Brandi had died. Gracie's death only brought to the surface the pain of losing my daughter that I had tried to bury deep down within me. I felt like I was drowning.
Part of the reason for staying in my room was because I was putting the blame of the fire on my four green friends. If they hadn't been at war with those that torched Gracie's business, she would still be alive. Come to think of it, I would still be in my apartment and, more importantly, I would still have my job. Everything that I had lost, with exception to my bed and my personal belongings, I was now fully and completely putting on the backs of the turtles. I was more than angry. I was furious.
Yet, there was just a smidgen of concern for them that kept my mouth shut. That in and of itself was a miracle. I've never been too good at keeping quiet. But for once I was actually succeeding.
Yet, despite my grief, I was concerned for Don. Because of my self-imposed isolation I didn't know how he was doing. I guess his brothers decided to give me my space. I tried to keep my sadness from extending beyond my room, but considering how good their hearing was, I was sure my crying was quite noticeable.
Either way, I was worried. I hadn't heard Don's voice since that morning when Mikey and I had our go-round about who would cook. That had me worried. But, I was still mad at them for bringing their personal conflict so close to those I loved. I just couldn't come out of my room.
My opinion regarding my four friends vacillated from one extreme to the other. It was quite confusing for me to feel intense rage one moment and then, a while later, deride myself for feeling that way.
When it would swing towards the anger side, I was certain they could sense my rage, even with my room so far removed from theirs. I would notice a considerable drop in conversations and activity in the otherwise noisy living room.
One time I peaked around the edge of the wall that was common with the bathroom, just to see what they were doing. No one was there. They could have been in their own rooms or maybe in the kitchen. But it seemed all too still. They could have just gone into the sewers to get away, too. Don was probably still bedridden and more than likely sleeping during those times. Maybe my friends had another 'lair' to go to when they needed more space? Either way, I always ended up feeling badly that my moods drove them into silence or out of their home.
But, as time went by and I finally accepted my loss, the pendulum of grief gradually found a center balance. I began to realize that if my friends could have done so, they would have rescued Gracie – just as they had me. They were not responsible for my beating nor should they be held accountable for the fire that claimed Gracie's life. Someone else was and knowing that Jack was among them made my blood boil.
The moment I came to this conclusion I was glad that I had held my tongue! The English novelist, Edward George Bulwer Lytton, was correct when he said, "The pen is mightier than the sword." Words, either written or spoken, can cause more harm than any weapon of destruction.
As the days dragged on I became increasingly tired of being in my room. But, I wasn't ready to face my four friends. Not just yet. I was still struggling with sorting my feelings out and I knew how intuitive the turtles were. I figured they felt just as badly as I did about losing Gracie.
She was, for them, more than a store owner. By not getting the police involved, Gracie provided a way for my friends to fill their pantry with much needed food items. I didn't know how close we were living to her place of business, but I assumed we were not too far. Not if they made it a habit to go there regularly.
And, that was a problem.
I heard Leo remark a couple evenings ago how stupid it was to use Gracie's place too frequently. He berated himself more than anyone else for getting into habits that could be tracked. Now, it was only a matter of time and opportunity before… and that's all I heard. Maybe he picked up on me listening from my bedroom? Either way, Leo's voice dropped too low for me to make out what he finished saying.
It didn't take a rocket scientist to figure what he was alluding, to, though. Thinking about Leo's words, I was able to finish what he started to say. I was sure he was going to say …" before the enemy figures out where we are living."
That worried me quite a bit. I was counting on Don's vast number of security measures he told me about shortly after I had arrived. They were littered throughout the sewer system and if any one of them were tripped, Don's computer would sound off an alarm. I didn't have a clue how he wired things; my field of expertise was on the past and not the present. Yet, his brothers had full confidence in him to protect the lair with all his personal security inventions.
A week after Gracie's death I finally emerged. Mike smiled a little when he saw me, but then looked away. Raph sort of ignored me, but then he always did unless I was ranting and raving about something. I suppose he thought those times were more entertaining since he himself could carry on a verbal assault pretty well. We were somewhat a like, I guess.
Leo nodded respectfully towards me. He was perspiring just a little so I assumed he had just finished with a work-out … oops, sorry, his katas. I chuckled. I still thought of cats when that word would pop up in my head.
I didn't see Don among the walking so I assumed he had gone to bed early. The door to his bedroom was closed, so it was hard to tell.
I ambled into the kitchen to make myself some tea. I was soon joined by Splinter.
"Are you feeling better, now, Mindy Johnson?" he asked me as he took one of the chairs and sat down.
I was off in my own world when he started talking to me. "Hmmm? Oh, sorry. Not really but I wanted some tea." I replied glumly.
Splinter sat there and was quiet for a while. He watched as I poured the now hot water into my cup that had the tea-ball. I turned to him and asked, "You want some, Splinter?"
He hesitated and then smiled, nodding his head, "I would be very grateful for a cup of tea. Thank you."
Soon we were both sitting at the table, sipping silently. I looked at the contents of my cup and swished it around a little to help cool the hot liquid. The swirls made interesting patterns as they whirled slowly around. I watched them for moment and in so doing, forgot to be careful.
"Ow, Hmm, that's hot." I complained softly.
I rubbed the offended area, but then someone removed my hand and placed an ice cube on my burn. I looked up and saw Splinter. He had made it to the refrigerator, plucked a cube from the ice tray, and had it on my hand before I could even rub the pain out. I was impressed. He handed me a towel to sop up the melt off.
"Thanks." I said as I took control of the cube. It started to melt a little with the water running down my hand and forming a small pool under it. But, after about five minutes, the ice had cooled the affected area and it didn't hurt as much.
Splinter had resumed his seat across from me; the table in between us while we sipped our respective cup of tea.
I was so much into myself that when he started to speak he caught me by surprise. I looked up sharply.
"I am sorry if I startled you, Mindy. What I was about to say was we are sorry for your loss. We are aware that you frequented Gracie's store." He said quietly.
I nodded my head sadly. I wanted to tell him all about her, about her kindness and about what she thought of the customer who would come in like a whisper to shop unseen. I wanted to let them all know what a kind and wonderful person she was. As I sat there I thought of all the times I could have visited with her more, but was too wrapped up in my own world of self pity. Yeah, that's what I did. Leaving my world of teaching behind and hiding in among the poor and destitute was a form of self pity. Not making friends or nurturing the ones I did have – such as Gracie – was just as self-indulgent. I tried not to, but I just couldn't help it; I started to cry.
Splinter reached out and compassionately took my hand. He never said a word but allowed me to vent my grief. Before too long I felt an arm grace across the back of my shoulders and then another one. In no time at all I was surrounded by my turtle friends, including Donatello. What I found most amazing was and with the exception of Raph and Splinter, they had tears in their eyes as well.
A few evenings later I decided that maybe I'd take in some television viewing. It had been a while since I sat myself down to watch any. Usually when Mikey would plant himself in front of the tube, I'd excuse myself to go read. I preferred that to viewing some inane program that had only one purpose and that was to lower you're IQ.
I was flipping through the channels and noticed that Donatello was making his way over to the couch where I sat.
"You're looking better, Don!" I said cheerily.
It's amazing what a difference is made with one's grief when it's shared. Knowing that my friends had as much respect and love for Gracie as I did – though she would never know, now – allowed me to forgive them and thus my healing began. I found myself laughing a little more, especially when Mikey would go out of his way to get me to, and – much to Raph's pleasure – my sarcastic wit returned.
"I'm feeling much better, thank you!" Don replied. He smiled a little as he joined me on the couch. Then he remarked to me, "Glad to see you out among…the green again!" and he laughed at his own joke.
Smiling at his expense I commented, "Well, one can stay just so long in bed and then it becomes – bedlam! "
He just stared at me. Okay, so that wasn't so funny. I went back to checking out the channels. When I came to a station that was presenting the local news, stopped. I leaned back and watched the anchorman read off the latest happenings.
I wasn't too impressed with all the political news that was going on. What ever new proposal was being decided didn't affect me so I allowed my mind to wander a bit. I noticed then that Don had his arm gracing the back of the couch – behind my shoulders. Hmm…he seemed to be a little too close for my comfort. In fact, I noticed that he had scooted closer to me. Now, that was really making me uncomfortable.
So I leaned forward to grab one of the magazines on the coffee table. It was simply a door that had been laid flat on top of some cinder blocks. It was uncomplicated and ingeniousness.
When I sat back up I made a point to shift myself ever so slightly away from him. I heard him sigh and I knew my subtle attempt wasn't so – subtle. At least not to Don.
"I'm sorry if I made you uncomfortable, Min." he apologized quietly.
"No, no, ah, you didn't. I was just getting this magazine." I stammered. Yeah, right. Like he'd believe that one.
"I missed you is all." Don said softly.
Oh boy; now what was I going to do. Don was sweet, really he was, but I was – what- twenty years older than him? I knew it had to be a crush because aside from the years, my long hours working at the diner and eking out a marginal living despite my dedication to my work had aged me. My light brown hair was starting to gray in spots and the corner of my eyes looked like a bunch of crows had taken roost. No, Don was definitely infatuated if he had any feelings for me at all.
I looked around desperately for Splinter. He was asleep. I knew this because the drape he used as a door was drawn across the opening to his room and his curtains were closed shut.
"Where's a good rat when you need one?" I asked myself in panic.
I knew that the other turtles were gone, out foraging once again. This time they had to change their location drastically.
Besides the authorities that were still looking into Gracie's store burning down, there seemed to be increased activity from that awful organization. I would think they would give the area a rest with all the law enforcement agencies that were still trying to piece together the crime scene up top. Unless they were part of the police force and were working undercover?
I decided to face this new problem head on – as I always do. I turned on the couch towards Don to address the issue at hand. But, before I could even utter one word, he had deftly cupped his hand behind my head, leaned in, and kissed me square on the mouth!
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The first few days after learning of Gracie's death, I was in a perpetual downward spiral of depression. I refused to come out of my room. I cried off and on; sometimes without warning. I'd be sitting there reading one of my books and then in the next moment be balling my eyes out. I couldn't stop it nor predict it. I thought my life would never be the same.
When I lived topside, Gracie had been my closest friend next to Crazy Bill. There were a few regulars at the diner that would ask how I was doing from time to time. But Gracie bridged that gulf that no man could possibly understand – not even Bill. She was, for lack of a better term, my best friend. I was devastated over her tragic passing.
Mike ended up doing all the cooking that week while Don was bedridden. I just didn't have the energy or the interest. Eating was a chore and I elected to take all my meals in my room. I did not want to share my grief with anyone.
This was how I was when Brandi had died. Gracie's death only brought to the surface the pain of losing my daughter that I had tried to bury deep down within me. I felt like I was drowning.
Part of the reason for staying in my room was because I was putting the blame of the fire on my four green friends. If they hadn't been at war with those that torched Gracie's business, she would still be alive. Come to think of it, I would still be in my apartment and, more importantly, I would still have my job. Everything that I had lost, with exception to my bed and my personal belongings, I was now fully and completely putting on the backs of the turtles. I was more than angry. I was furious.
Yet, there was just a smidgen of concern for them that kept my mouth shut. That in and of itself was a miracle. I've never been too good at keeping quiet. But for once I was actually succeeding.
Yet, despite my grief, I was concerned for Don. Because of my self-imposed isolation I didn't know how he was doing. I guess his brothers decided to give me my space. I tried to keep my sadness from extending beyond my room, but considering how good their hearing was, I was sure my crying was quite noticeable.
Either way, I was worried. I hadn't heard Don's voice since that morning when Mikey and I had our go-round about who would cook. That had me worried. But, I was still mad at them for bringing their personal conflict so close to those I loved. I just couldn't come out of my room.
My opinion regarding my four friends vacillated from one extreme to the other. It was quite confusing for me to feel intense rage one moment and then, a while later, deride myself for feeling that way.
When it would swing towards the anger side, I was certain they could sense my rage, even with my room so far removed from theirs. I would notice a considerable drop in conversations and activity in the otherwise noisy living room.
One time I peaked around the edge of the wall that was common with the bathroom, just to see what they were doing. No one was there. They could have been in their own rooms or maybe in the kitchen. But it seemed all too still. They could have just gone into the sewers to get away, too. Don was probably still bedridden and more than likely sleeping during those times. Maybe my friends had another 'lair' to go to when they needed more space? Either way, I always ended up feeling badly that my moods drove them into silence or out of their home.
But, as time went by and I finally accepted my loss, the pendulum of grief gradually found a center balance. I began to realize that if my friends could have done so, they would have rescued Gracie – just as they had me. They were not responsible for my beating nor should they be held accountable for the fire that claimed Gracie's life. Someone else was and knowing that Jack was among them made my blood boil.
The moment I came to this conclusion I was glad that I had held my tongue! The English novelist, Edward George Bulwer Lytton, was correct when he said, "The pen is mightier than the sword." Words, either written or spoken, can cause more harm than any weapon of destruction.
As the days dragged on I became increasingly tired of being in my room. But, I wasn't ready to face my four friends. Not just yet. I was still struggling with sorting my feelings out and I knew how intuitive the turtles were. I figured they felt just as badly as I did about losing Gracie.
She was, for them, more than a store owner. By not getting the police involved, Gracie provided a way for my friends to fill their pantry with much needed food items. I didn't know how close we were living to her place of business, but I assumed we were not too far. Not if they made it a habit to go there regularly.
And, that was a problem.
I heard Leo remark a couple evenings ago how stupid it was to use Gracie's place too frequently. He berated himself more than anyone else for getting into habits that could be tracked. Now, it was only a matter of time and opportunity before… and that's all I heard. Maybe he picked up on me listening from my bedroom? Either way, Leo's voice dropped too low for me to make out what he finished saying.
It didn't take a rocket scientist to figure what he was alluding, to, though. Thinking about Leo's words, I was able to finish what he started to say. I was sure he was going to say …" before the enemy figures out where we are living."
That worried me quite a bit. I was counting on Don's vast number of security measures he told me about shortly after I had arrived. They were littered throughout the sewer system and if any one of them were tripped, Don's computer would sound off an alarm. I didn't have a clue how he wired things; my field of expertise was on the past and not the present. Yet, his brothers had full confidence in him to protect the lair with all his personal security inventions.
A week after Gracie's death I finally emerged. Mike smiled a little when he saw me, but then looked away. Raph sort of ignored me, but then he always did unless I was ranting and raving about something. I suppose he thought those times were more entertaining since he himself could carry on a verbal assault pretty well. We were somewhat a like, I guess.
Leo nodded respectfully towards me. He was perspiring just a little so I assumed he had just finished with a work-out … oops, sorry, his katas. I chuckled. I still thought of cats when that word would pop up in my head.
I didn't see Don among the walking so I assumed he had gone to bed early. The door to his bedroom was closed, so it was hard to tell.
I ambled into the kitchen to make myself some tea. I was soon joined by Splinter.
"Are you feeling better, now, Mindy Johnson?" he asked me as he took one of the chairs and sat down.
I was off in my own world when he started talking to me. "Hmmm? Oh, sorry. Not really but I wanted some tea." I replied glumly.
Splinter sat there and was quiet for a while. He watched as I poured the now hot water into my cup that had the tea-ball. I turned to him and asked, "You want some, Splinter?"
He hesitated and then smiled, nodding his head, "I would be very grateful for a cup of tea. Thank you."
Soon we were both sitting at the table, sipping silently. I looked at the contents of my cup and swished it around a little to help cool the hot liquid. The swirls made interesting patterns as they whirled slowly around. I watched them for moment and in so doing, forgot to be careful.
"Ow, Hmm, that's hot." I complained softly.
I rubbed the offended area, but then someone removed my hand and placed an ice cube on my burn. I looked up and saw Splinter. He had made it to the refrigerator, plucked a cube from the ice tray, and had it on my hand before I could even rub the pain out. I was impressed. He handed me a towel to sop up the melt off.
"Thanks." I said as I took control of the cube. It started to melt a little with the water running down my hand and forming a small pool under it. But, after about five minutes, the ice had cooled the affected area and it didn't hurt as much.
Splinter had resumed his seat across from me; the table in between us while we sipped our respective cup of tea.
I was so much into myself that when he started to speak he caught me by surprise. I looked up sharply.
"I am sorry if I startled you, Mindy. What I was about to say was we are sorry for your loss. We are aware that you frequented Gracie's store." He said quietly.
I nodded my head sadly. I wanted to tell him all about her, about her kindness and about what she thought of the customer who would come in like a whisper to shop unseen. I wanted to let them all know what a kind and wonderful person she was. As I sat there I thought of all the times I could have visited with her more, but was too wrapped up in my own world of self pity. Yeah, that's what I did. Leaving my world of teaching behind and hiding in among the poor and destitute was a form of self pity. Not making friends or nurturing the ones I did have – such as Gracie – was just as self-indulgent. I tried not to, but I just couldn't help it; I started to cry.
Splinter reached out and compassionately took my hand. He never said a word but allowed me to vent my grief. Before too long I felt an arm grace across the back of my shoulders and then another one. In no time at all I was surrounded by my turtle friends, including Donatello. What I found most amazing was and with the exception of Raph and Splinter, they had tears in their eyes as well.
A few evenings later I decided that maybe I'd take in some television viewing. It had been a while since I sat myself down to watch any. Usually when Mikey would plant himself in front of the tube, I'd excuse myself to go read. I preferred that to viewing some inane program that had only one purpose and that was to lower you're IQ.
I was flipping through the channels and noticed that Donatello was making his way over to the couch where I sat.
"You're looking better, Don!" I said cheerily.
It's amazing what a difference is made with one's grief when it's shared. Knowing that my friends had as much respect and love for Gracie as I did – though she would never know, now – allowed me to forgive them and thus my healing began. I found myself laughing a little more, especially when Mikey would go out of his way to get me to, and – much to Raph's pleasure – my sarcastic wit returned.
"I'm feeling much better, thank you!" Don replied. He smiled a little as he joined me on the couch. Then he remarked to me, "Glad to see you out among…the green again!" and he laughed at his own joke.
Smiling at his expense I commented, "Well, one can stay just so long in bed and then it becomes – bedlam! "
He just stared at me. Okay, so that wasn't so funny. I went back to checking out the channels. When I came to a station that was presenting the local news, stopped. I leaned back and watched the anchorman read off the latest happenings.
I wasn't too impressed with all the political news that was going on. What ever new proposal was being decided didn't affect me so I allowed my mind to wander a bit. I noticed then that Don had his arm gracing the back of the couch – behind my shoulders. Hmm…he seemed to be a little too close for my comfort. In fact, I noticed that he had scooted closer to me. Now, that was really making me uncomfortable.
So I leaned forward to grab one of the magazines on the coffee table. It was simply a door that had been laid flat on top of some cinder blocks. It was uncomplicated and ingeniousness.
When I sat back up I made a point to shift myself ever so slightly away from him. I heard him sigh and I knew my subtle attempt wasn't so – subtle. At least not to Don.
"I'm sorry if I made you uncomfortable, Min." he apologized quietly.
"No, no, ah, you didn't. I was just getting this magazine." I stammered. Yeah, right. Like he'd believe that one.
"I missed you is all." Don said softly.
Oh boy; now what was I going to do. Don was sweet, really he was, but I was – what- twenty years older than him? I knew it had to be a crush because aside from the years, my long hours working at the diner and eking out a marginal living despite my dedication to my work had aged me. My light brown hair was starting to gray in spots and the corner of my eyes looked like a bunch of crows had taken roost. No, Don was definitely infatuated if he had any feelings for me at all.
I looked around desperately for Splinter. He was asleep. I knew this because the drape he used as a door was drawn across the opening to his room and his curtains were closed shut.
"Where's a good rat when you need one?" I asked myself in panic.
I knew that the other turtles were gone, out foraging once again. This time they had to change their location drastically.
Besides the authorities that were still looking into Gracie's store burning down, there seemed to be increased activity from that awful organization. I would think they would give the area a rest with all the law enforcement agencies that were still trying to piece together the crime scene up top. Unless they were part of the police force and were working undercover?
I decided to face this new problem head on – as I always do. I turned on the couch towards Don to address the issue at hand. But, before I could even utter one word, he had deftly cupped his hand behind my head, leaned in, and kissed me square on the mouth!
