Providence
formerly known as: Untitled (6)
Several days pass, and I can't help but notice that I've been feeling better. It's as if I was unconsciously growing weary of being depressed, and I've somehow forced myself into some sort medium. Josie is a pretty fine companion, and she keeps me mildly distracted from my day to day pain. I could never be attracted, nor interested in her the way Mrs. Tarintino wishes me to be, but on occasion I let the old lady dream on. I feel as if I'm in her debt.
Josie no longer doubts my non-Earthly origins. I happened by her two days after we went to the pharmacy, and she stared at the several inches of hair that adorned my head. I merely smiled at her.
My mood-swings and compulsions are temporarily on hiatus it seems. I masturbate less frequently now - only in response to the normal calls of nature. Somehow, the guilt that has been eating me like a cancer has granted me respite. I keep myself busy in hopes that it will extend this high period, and perhaps it will keep my next low from going..very low.
---
Mrs. Tarintino greets me with two plates of french toast as I enter the kitchen. "Good morning, Mr. Vegeta," she quips in a cheerful voice. She continues setting the table as I begin to eat. She goes to her cupboards for a moment, and returns with powerded sugar. She sprinkles some onto my toast and returns the sugar without a word. The woman never ceases to amaze me. How does she know that that is exactly how I like it? She even put boysenberry syrup on it with rasberries on top!
"You know.." she begins, then waits till she starts a batch of pancakes to continue, "..there's an art exhibition in town. Maybe you should go see that with Josie." Josie this, Josie that. By the way she talks, Mrs. Tarintino should date her!
"Yeah. Ok," I give a shrug. I'm not a huge art fan. My tastes are often viewed as odd or bizarre. Sometimes people have ridiculed me and have said I have no taste at all. What else do you expect from a Saijin though, really? A work of art to me is like the mastery of the Big Bang Attack, or Kakkarot's Kamehameha Wave. Oh well. Going to this exhibit will be something to do, at least. I have no other plans.
---
"An art exhibition, huh?" Josie says out loud more to herself than to me. She brushes her hair quickly, but methodically. "Sure, I'll go with you. It sounds like fun," she flashes me a smile before she continues primping herself, "but why don't you drive? I'm not in the mood."
"I can't."
"What? Why not?" she asks, surprised and confused.
I stare at her for a moment.
---
"We are gathered here today to remember those who have fallen in the midst of tragedy - being taken from loved ones in too soon of a time."
He listened behind dark-tinted glasses.
"We wish to pay our regards to these bright souls, and commemorate them for the dedicated lives that they lived."
He listened in his black suit and shiny black dress shoes.
"Chi-chi Son. Mother of Gohan Son and Goten Son. Loving wife to Goku Son. She cared deeply for her family, and only wanted the best for them, and for others."
He released a sigh, inaudible, but draining - taxing - upon his energy.
"Gohan Son. Eldest son of Goku and Chi-chi Son. Father of Pan Son. Loving husband to Videl Satan. He was the best scholar this world has known, and will be deeply missed by family, friends, and collegues alike."
He looked at the ground now, unable to direct his gaze at the speaker.
"Videl Satan. Only daughter of Hercule Satan. Mother of Pan Son. Loving wife to Gohan Son. She took after her father and cared for the people of Earth. She will be missed by all."
He heard the great wail of an old man.
"Pan Son. Daughter of Gohan Son and Videl Satan. She was taken away from us at too young of an age."
It was the sound of a man who had lost all he held dear in the world.
"Goten Son. Youngest son of Goku and Chi-chi Son. Best friends with Trunks Briefs, he loved him like a brother. Goten was an aspiring athlete, and was well-liked by all."
He closed his eyes. He tried to prepare himself, but he couldn't. More people had begun to cry.
"Bulma Briefs. Daughter of Malcom and Bunny Briefs. Mother of Trunks Vegeta Briefs and Bra Vegeta Briefs. Loving wife to Vegeta. She was a wonderful parent, a loyal, loving spouse, and the most successful scientist and businesswoman that has walked this Earth. She will be greatly missed by many."
He tried so hard to stay in control. His will was crumbling.
"Trunks Vegeta Briefs. Son of Vegeta and Bulma Briefs. He followed in his mother's footsteps at becoming a very self-proficient president. He was admired by many, and deeply loved by those he was close to. Best friends with Goten Son, he loved him like a brother."
His eyes burned and his throat had seized up.
"Bra Vegeta Briefs. Daughter of Vegeta and Bulma Briefs. She lived a carefree life and was well-liked by all. Her only wish in life was to help people."
The ceremony went on, but he turned away. He walked on trecherous, shaky knees away from the speaker. He finally allowed himself to breathe again. God..it was so hard. Why was this so hard? It wasn't as if death was new to him.
No..death was not.
Love was.
He had loved them - all of them - on some level. Gohan and Goten were almost like sons to him, especially Goten. Even Chi-chi he felt something for. Respect, mostly, but it was more than he would have ever imagined in the past.
These emotions were eating him alive. If love could do this, no wonder he had scorned it so much.
Yet, it wasn't a weakness. No. Love was the more powerful thing he'd ever encountered. No wonder Kakkarot perserved through his battles. Fighting for love was more motivating than fighting for any other cause - be it wealth, property, or glory.
He took the time to compose himself. What little he could.
He returned when there was near-silence. The sound of soft sobbing penetrated the air every now and again. People were, as they called it, "paying their respects". He waited patiently, hoping that by biding his time it would give him the strength to face this. He walked forward, the last in line, and stood in front of the caskets. No...he could not... He was weak.
He lost the energy and will to stand upright, and he collapsed onto bended knees. He cried in front of everyone. He let everyone know of his sorrow, and he didn't care. Tears flowed freely down his face as he tried to hide behind those dark-tinted glasses. Someone was beside him then. Someone put their arm around him and held him.
"Oh, Vegeta.." that light, feminine voice said, "Honey...shh.." Hands caressed his face, wiping away tears and trying to comfort him. They ran through his hair and rubbed his back. He could only continue to cry as he was completely lost, completely devestated. Bulma's mother held him close, letting his head rest on her shoulder. His arms encircled her and he returned the embrace.
"It's my fault.." he said, his voice a hoarse whisper.
"Shh..." Bunny hugged him tight, "Don't say that, Vegeta... Don't say that; it isn't true..."
---
"Are you sure you wouldn't like to ride with us?" Dr. Briefs extended his invitation for the third time.
Vegeta shook his head, "No, thanks. I think I..just need a few minutes. ..Alone." His father-in-law and mother-in-law respected his wishes, said their goodbyes, and made their departure. He stayed for only a little while, then he took the long walk round to his vehicle.
He moved mechanically: open the door, climb in, close door, put it in neutral, start car, fasten seatbelt, push in the clutch, apply brake, release the emergency brake, put it in reverse, release brake, release clutch and apply gas, back out, clutch in while applying brake, put it in first, release clutch and apply gas, go.
He drove a few miles in back roads, then he merged onto the highway.
"It's my fault..."
"Don't say that; it isn't true..."
How could it not be? Vegeta - the Prince of Saijins - had fucked up bad. He made a poor decision and for it everyone else had to pay for it. He had been selfish and now everyone he had cared for was dead. Did Bulma, Trunks, and Bra deserve this for his misjudgment? No. He did; yet, he was still here. Their places should've been swapped.
It was his fault.
"Don't say that, Vegeta..."
How could he not? It was true. It was his fault.
All his fault.
That's when he'd first felt it. This horrible, wretched feeling that came over him from just being.
Useless! Selfish! Piece of shit! You disgrace your family! he told himself. How can you even attend their funeral, as if you belonged there? You shamed their name! You caused their deaths! You deserve no pity! Worthless!
He choked out a sob and gripped the wheel so hard it caused an imprint. He felt sick to his stomach, and his chest ached.
This pain.. Did love cause this pain?
He glared at the road ahead of him, taking the appropriate exit ramp. He wondered why he was driving back to Capsule Corporation in the first place. How dare he go back to the place he'd been welcomed into! How dare he go back now that he betrayed that trust! No. He could not. He would not return.
Bulma, Trunks, Bra...he loved them beyond words. He had never expressed that love before. Now, he couldn't even rectify that mistake.
Failure! he thought, You caused this! If you would've stopped thinking of only yourself for just a moment! Maybe if you had realized what a stupid hunk of shit you are it wouldn't have happened!
Tears were running down his face by now. He'd never felt so ashamed in his entire life. His nose began to run and his chest was heaving.
And then, just like that, he broke completely.
He screamed out, possibly a curse word, but he'd fail to remember in the future. He forced the gas pedal to the floor and rear-ended the car in front of him. They turned, hit the side-barricade and lost control. The vehicle was 'pulled' sharply to the left and Vegeta hit the rear at just the perfect angle that he was forced upwards. Cars were spinning out of control. The person behind him in turn rear-ended him and he was pushed forward. He'd remember the odd silence that took place after the concophony of grinding metal the most. For just one moment, it was calm and peaceful. For one solitary moment, he'd felt content. Then, it was over.
---
The driver of a Pontiac Aztec was cruising happily along the highway when a car dropped onto the Ford Focus in front of him. By then, it was too late, and the Aztec joined the fray.
---
It took the rescue workers some time to get there because the wreckage had leaked over onto the oncoming traffic and had caused the entire highway to back up for both the East and West bound sides. Not to mention the lovely jam on the bridge above. Late afternoon was slowly transforming into early evening as police officers, firemen, and medical personal worked to free people imprisoned in their own vehicles and under hundreds of pounds of metal and glass.
Henry Gerald was one of those assigned to help in this mess. He carefully climbed over various cars, trucks, and SUVs in varying states of damage. He was looking for more survivors, which thankfully, there had been a very high percentage of. His ears caught a muffled sound that he recognized as crying. "I've found another live one," he called through his radio, "West bound. Looks like it used to be a dark blue Benz. Requesting assistance." He eased himself onto a patch of bare concrete next to the car sandwich. An arm was sticking out of what was left of the window - clad in a black suit jacket - and he knelt down to peek inside.
Glossy black eyes stared out at him from the shadowy interior. Even if you have a rollbar, the roof wouldn't withstand a sixty foot drop on its roof, Henry thought to himself, it's a miracle this man's even breathing. He wondered how much longer he would last. He had to be alive due to the combination of luck and the fact the guy was one tough son-of-a-bitch. The least he could do was comfort the guy who was obviously in pain. "My name's Henry. What's your name?" he asked the driver. The man continued to stare back at him as he cried harder. He attempted to calm the stranger a few times after that, but he gave up eventually and waited for his help to arrive.
---
They cut out an entire section of the car just to free him. Henry teamed up with his peers to very gently pull him out of the twisted concoction and they were shocked at what they found. This man adorned no bruise, no scratch, no injury whatsoever. The only words he spoke to them were harsh and pained:
"I didn't die."
---
I finally answer Josie's question, "Because the last time I drove I caused a forty car pile-up. Nine people died and countless others were injured."
She stares at me, not knowing what to say. "I, uh.." she starts weakly. She puts her hair brush down and attempts to gather her senses. "I'll just pull the car up to the front, okay?" she tries to smile at me as she grabs her purse and heads downstairs.
I wait a little while, then I go down to meet up with her.
formerly known as: Untitled (6)
Several days pass, and I can't help but notice that I've been feeling better. It's as if I was unconsciously growing weary of being depressed, and I've somehow forced myself into some sort medium. Josie is a pretty fine companion, and she keeps me mildly distracted from my day to day pain. I could never be attracted, nor interested in her the way Mrs. Tarintino wishes me to be, but on occasion I let the old lady dream on. I feel as if I'm in her debt.
Josie no longer doubts my non-Earthly origins. I happened by her two days after we went to the pharmacy, and she stared at the several inches of hair that adorned my head. I merely smiled at her.
My mood-swings and compulsions are temporarily on hiatus it seems. I masturbate less frequently now - only in response to the normal calls of nature. Somehow, the guilt that has been eating me like a cancer has granted me respite. I keep myself busy in hopes that it will extend this high period, and perhaps it will keep my next low from going..very low.
---
Mrs. Tarintino greets me with two plates of french toast as I enter the kitchen. "Good morning, Mr. Vegeta," she quips in a cheerful voice. She continues setting the table as I begin to eat. She goes to her cupboards for a moment, and returns with powerded sugar. She sprinkles some onto my toast and returns the sugar without a word. The woman never ceases to amaze me. How does she know that that is exactly how I like it? She even put boysenberry syrup on it with rasberries on top!
"You know.." she begins, then waits till she starts a batch of pancakes to continue, "..there's an art exhibition in town. Maybe you should go see that with Josie." Josie this, Josie that. By the way she talks, Mrs. Tarintino should date her!
"Yeah. Ok," I give a shrug. I'm not a huge art fan. My tastes are often viewed as odd or bizarre. Sometimes people have ridiculed me and have said I have no taste at all. What else do you expect from a Saijin though, really? A work of art to me is like the mastery of the Big Bang Attack, or Kakkarot's Kamehameha Wave. Oh well. Going to this exhibit will be something to do, at least. I have no other plans.
---
"An art exhibition, huh?" Josie says out loud more to herself than to me. She brushes her hair quickly, but methodically. "Sure, I'll go with you. It sounds like fun," she flashes me a smile before she continues primping herself, "but why don't you drive? I'm not in the mood."
"I can't."
"What? Why not?" she asks, surprised and confused.
I stare at her for a moment.
---
"We are gathered here today to remember those who have fallen in the midst of tragedy - being taken from loved ones in too soon of a time."
He listened behind dark-tinted glasses.
"We wish to pay our regards to these bright souls, and commemorate them for the dedicated lives that they lived."
He listened in his black suit and shiny black dress shoes.
"Chi-chi Son. Mother of Gohan Son and Goten Son. Loving wife to Goku Son. She cared deeply for her family, and only wanted the best for them, and for others."
He released a sigh, inaudible, but draining - taxing - upon his energy.
"Gohan Son. Eldest son of Goku and Chi-chi Son. Father of Pan Son. Loving husband to Videl Satan. He was the best scholar this world has known, and will be deeply missed by family, friends, and collegues alike."
He looked at the ground now, unable to direct his gaze at the speaker.
"Videl Satan. Only daughter of Hercule Satan. Mother of Pan Son. Loving wife to Gohan Son. She took after her father and cared for the people of Earth. She will be missed by all."
He heard the great wail of an old man.
"Pan Son. Daughter of Gohan Son and Videl Satan. She was taken away from us at too young of an age."
It was the sound of a man who had lost all he held dear in the world.
"Goten Son. Youngest son of Goku and Chi-chi Son. Best friends with Trunks Briefs, he loved him like a brother. Goten was an aspiring athlete, and was well-liked by all."
He closed his eyes. He tried to prepare himself, but he couldn't. More people had begun to cry.
"Bulma Briefs. Daughter of Malcom and Bunny Briefs. Mother of Trunks Vegeta Briefs and Bra Vegeta Briefs. Loving wife to Vegeta. She was a wonderful parent, a loyal, loving spouse, and the most successful scientist and businesswoman that has walked this Earth. She will be greatly missed by many."
He tried so hard to stay in control. His will was crumbling.
"Trunks Vegeta Briefs. Son of Vegeta and Bulma Briefs. He followed in his mother's footsteps at becoming a very self-proficient president. He was admired by many, and deeply loved by those he was close to. Best friends with Goten Son, he loved him like a brother."
His eyes burned and his throat had seized up.
"Bra Vegeta Briefs. Daughter of Vegeta and Bulma Briefs. She lived a carefree life and was well-liked by all. Her only wish in life was to help people."
The ceremony went on, but he turned away. He walked on trecherous, shaky knees away from the speaker. He finally allowed himself to breathe again. God..it was so hard. Why was this so hard? It wasn't as if death was new to him.
No..death was not.
Love was.
He had loved them - all of them - on some level. Gohan and Goten were almost like sons to him, especially Goten. Even Chi-chi he felt something for. Respect, mostly, but it was more than he would have ever imagined in the past.
These emotions were eating him alive. If love could do this, no wonder he had scorned it so much.
Yet, it wasn't a weakness. No. Love was the more powerful thing he'd ever encountered. No wonder Kakkarot perserved through his battles. Fighting for love was more motivating than fighting for any other cause - be it wealth, property, or glory.
He took the time to compose himself. What little he could.
He returned when there was near-silence. The sound of soft sobbing penetrated the air every now and again. People were, as they called it, "paying their respects". He waited patiently, hoping that by biding his time it would give him the strength to face this. He walked forward, the last in line, and stood in front of the caskets. No...he could not... He was weak.
He lost the energy and will to stand upright, and he collapsed onto bended knees. He cried in front of everyone. He let everyone know of his sorrow, and he didn't care. Tears flowed freely down his face as he tried to hide behind those dark-tinted glasses. Someone was beside him then. Someone put their arm around him and held him.
"Oh, Vegeta.." that light, feminine voice said, "Honey...shh.." Hands caressed his face, wiping away tears and trying to comfort him. They ran through his hair and rubbed his back. He could only continue to cry as he was completely lost, completely devestated. Bulma's mother held him close, letting his head rest on her shoulder. His arms encircled her and he returned the embrace.
"It's my fault.." he said, his voice a hoarse whisper.
"Shh..." Bunny hugged him tight, "Don't say that, Vegeta... Don't say that; it isn't true..."
---
"Are you sure you wouldn't like to ride with us?" Dr. Briefs extended his invitation for the third time.
Vegeta shook his head, "No, thanks. I think I..just need a few minutes. ..Alone." His father-in-law and mother-in-law respected his wishes, said their goodbyes, and made their departure. He stayed for only a little while, then he took the long walk round to his vehicle.
He moved mechanically: open the door, climb in, close door, put it in neutral, start car, fasten seatbelt, push in the clutch, apply brake, release the emergency brake, put it in reverse, release brake, release clutch and apply gas, back out, clutch in while applying brake, put it in first, release clutch and apply gas, go.
He drove a few miles in back roads, then he merged onto the highway.
"It's my fault..."
"Don't say that; it isn't true..."
How could it not be? Vegeta - the Prince of Saijins - had fucked up bad. He made a poor decision and for it everyone else had to pay for it. He had been selfish and now everyone he had cared for was dead. Did Bulma, Trunks, and Bra deserve this for his misjudgment? No. He did; yet, he was still here. Their places should've been swapped.
It was his fault.
"Don't say that, Vegeta..."
How could he not? It was true. It was his fault.
All his fault.
That's when he'd first felt it. This horrible, wretched feeling that came over him from just being.
Useless! Selfish! Piece of shit! You disgrace your family! he told himself. How can you even attend their funeral, as if you belonged there? You shamed their name! You caused their deaths! You deserve no pity! Worthless!
He choked out a sob and gripped the wheel so hard it caused an imprint. He felt sick to his stomach, and his chest ached.
This pain.. Did love cause this pain?
He glared at the road ahead of him, taking the appropriate exit ramp. He wondered why he was driving back to Capsule Corporation in the first place. How dare he go back to the place he'd been welcomed into! How dare he go back now that he betrayed that trust! No. He could not. He would not return.
Bulma, Trunks, Bra...he loved them beyond words. He had never expressed that love before. Now, he couldn't even rectify that mistake.
Failure! he thought, You caused this! If you would've stopped thinking of only yourself for just a moment! Maybe if you had realized what a stupid hunk of shit you are it wouldn't have happened!
Tears were running down his face by now. He'd never felt so ashamed in his entire life. His nose began to run and his chest was heaving.
And then, just like that, he broke completely.
He screamed out, possibly a curse word, but he'd fail to remember in the future. He forced the gas pedal to the floor and rear-ended the car in front of him. They turned, hit the side-barricade and lost control. The vehicle was 'pulled' sharply to the left and Vegeta hit the rear at just the perfect angle that he was forced upwards. Cars were spinning out of control. The person behind him in turn rear-ended him and he was pushed forward. He'd remember the odd silence that took place after the concophony of grinding metal the most. For just one moment, it was calm and peaceful. For one solitary moment, he'd felt content. Then, it was over.
---
The driver of a Pontiac Aztec was cruising happily along the highway when a car dropped onto the Ford Focus in front of him. By then, it was too late, and the Aztec joined the fray.
---
It took the rescue workers some time to get there because the wreckage had leaked over onto the oncoming traffic and had caused the entire highway to back up for both the East and West bound sides. Not to mention the lovely jam on the bridge above. Late afternoon was slowly transforming into early evening as police officers, firemen, and medical personal worked to free people imprisoned in their own vehicles and under hundreds of pounds of metal and glass.
Henry Gerald was one of those assigned to help in this mess. He carefully climbed over various cars, trucks, and SUVs in varying states of damage. He was looking for more survivors, which thankfully, there had been a very high percentage of. His ears caught a muffled sound that he recognized as crying. "I've found another live one," he called through his radio, "West bound. Looks like it used to be a dark blue Benz. Requesting assistance." He eased himself onto a patch of bare concrete next to the car sandwich. An arm was sticking out of what was left of the window - clad in a black suit jacket - and he knelt down to peek inside.
Glossy black eyes stared out at him from the shadowy interior. Even if you have a rollbar, the roof wouldn't withstand a sixty foot drop on its roof, Henry thought to himself, it's a miracle this man's even breathing. He wondered how much longer he would last. He had to be alive due to the combination of luck and the fact the guy was one tough son-of-a-bitch. The least he could do was comfort the guy who was obviously in pain. "My name's Henry. What's your name?" he asked the driver. The man continued to stare back at him as he cried harder. He attempted to calm the stranger a few times after that, but he gave up eventually and waited for his help to arrive.
---
They cut out an entire section of the car just to free him. Henry teamed up with his peers to very gently pull him out of the twisted concoction and they were shocked at what they found. This man adorned no bruise, no scratch, no injury whatsoever. The only words he spoke to them were harsh and pained:
"I didn't die."
---
I finally answer Josie's question, "Because the last time I drove I caused a forty car pile-up. Nine people died and countless others were injured."
She stares at me, not knowing what to say. "I, uh.." she starts weakly. She puts her hair brush down and attempts to gather her senses. "I'll just pull the car up to the front, okay?" she tries to smile at me as she grabs her purse and heads downstairs.
I wait a little while, then I go down to meet up with her.