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NOTE: LOL, my friend Linz (timecapsule) says I'm spoiling you all since I post more than once a week but this is fun!
As of now this fanfic had the word 'sorry' in it 63 times.
And I know, the title is a little ummmm . . . Odd but it was the best I could think of at 2:30 in the morning.
cheeseisawesome: I edited the chapters a little but I didn't think they were
too OOC. After all, in the Phone Home episode he practically gave a speech on
an imaginary friend's duty towards other lost friends. I think at times, like
when he was comforting Satin, he can be in character without saying his
trademark phrases. I tried to make sure everything sounded like something he
would say as well. Thanks for pointing it out though.
And as for the ending . . . well, I'm still deciding on it.
Oh! And I've read your story, I'll review tonight.
Kia1334: lol! Satan? Really? I can't say much since I pronounced Hermione from Harry Potter as Heramoine.
I'll check out your story and review with suggestions, the title sounds familiar but I don't think I've read it . . .
And yes, I have felt like that before. I get inspired from life sometimes. In fact a lot of Satin's feelings of inferiority come from my most depressing moments as well. Wow . . . Never thought I'd use them for something fun! Lol
Good! Take him to homecoming. Just make sure you have him back by eleven and save a dance for me, lol!
Chapter 10: A Pained Pleasure
Sunlight slanted into the dining hall of Fosters, lighting on the random bowls and silverware that lay in neat piles on the table. It illuminated the paneling to a rich shade of violet, which reflected itself in every aspect of the room. Tapestries of a bygone age hung in the high dome of the ceiling, glowing in the morning sun. At the head of the ancient table one redhead labored under a load of china. Another figure was rapidly approaching to assist.
"Stupid rabbit won't bother to hire more help. Geez these dishes are heavy!" grumbled Frankie as she staggered under the weight of a pile of bowls.
A couple of helping hands took the dishes from the top of the pile. As the dishes moved aside, Frankie found herself face to face with Satin.
"Need some help?" Satin asked with a small smile.
"Everyday." Frankie replied, kicking open the kitchen doors.
The kitchen was an utter disaster. In Wilt's mysterious morning absence, Bloo had attempted to 'help' Frankie make breakfast. Needless to say, they'd had to resort to cereal instead of scrambled eggs that morning and the kitchen was going to take about a week and a half to clean. Dumping the load unceremoniously in one side of the sink, Frankie set about filling the other side with the hottest water she could stand. Satin set her arm load on the countertop and accepted a dry towel from Frankie, "I'm sorry about yesterday."
Frankie continued rinsing out bowls but glanced up at Satin, "Don't worry about it. Look, do you think your the first friend who's ever panicked on Adopt-A-Thought Saturday? At least you just ran away. The first time Eduardo went he thought the kid was a stranger and nearly bowled him over! Yours was probably the mildest reaction I've ever seen."
Satin blushed at the embarrassing memory of yesterday's fiasco. What did Wilt think of her, breaking into tears over nothing at all? She'd probably seemed selfish and stupid.
"Listen, Mister Herriman wants me to tell you that you got a warning yesterday." Frankie continued, then, when she saw Satin's look she added, "Don't worry, it's not so bad. It just means he's not going to issue a punishment or anything but he wanted you to know you did something wrong . . ."
"I know how I acted was wrong but . . . was what I did wrong?" Satin asked, drying a bowl for the third time, apparently unaware that it was in her hands.
"What do you mean?" Frankie probed, not quite sure she understood the question.
"Well, can . . . can a friend refuse an adopter's offer?"
Frankie looked up at her and thought a moment, "You didn't know that? Of course they can. Duchess does it all the time, we can't get rid of her!"
"I didn't know . . . I thought . . ." Satin trailed off, feeling very ashamed of her ignorance.
"We're not going to shove you out the door, Satin. You're always welcome at Foster's, it's in our creed." Frankie replied with a smile, "We encourage our friends to be adopted and there's always the possibility that you could be adopted while staying here but sometimes kids want a friend for all the wrong reasons so you're allowed to say no. We have problems sometimes when the kids are bigger than the friends they want, they'll try to bully them into coming. We usually stop that sort of thing but sometimes it's hard to tell who's doing the talking, the kid or the friend. So it's difficult."
Satin occupied herself with drying dishes while she mulled this information over. She could say no. She had a choice. She didn't have to be adopted yet. She could stay. With a sigh of relief, she began to put away the dry bowls; content in her place in the world.
At the moment, a familiar squeaking footstep reached her ears and she turned to the door. Frankie looked up as well, "Hey Wilt! How's it going?"
"Okay." he said. It was a notch less chipper than his usual reply but not very noticeable.
"Good morning, Wilt." Satin said, looking up at him.
He gave his customary smile but . . . Something was wrong. There was no upbeat walk, no trademark grin, no warm welcoming of the day. Something was definitely wrong with him. Satin swallowed hard, trying to quell the sudden upset stomach she got at the thought of this being her fault. What if he was upset about last night? Had she done something to offend him? She hoped not.
Frankie hadn't noticed Wilt's odd behavior or, if she had, she wasn't saying anything. She went back to washing dishes and Satin continued to dry. Wilt came over and began to put away.
"It's okay, Wilt, you don't have to." Frankie said.
"Well, I don't have anything better to do." he replied, smile in place.
That's what was wrong! Satin looked at him sidelong. He was smiling all wrong. It wasn't the happy, light hearted look he usually had. This smile was faked, put on for appearances. Now that she looked closer she noticed how truly miserable he looked. God, she hated seeing him like this. Satin resolved to talk to him about it as soon as she could, maybe she could help.
Wilt had intended to talk to Frankie. Frankie always helped when you had to get something off your chest. She knew all the right things to say and do to make you feel better about it too. Usually, by the end of a conversation with her you were wondering what all the fuss had been about in the first place. Yes, he'd wanted to talk to Frankie but lo and behold, there was Satin, the very incarnation of the problem standing there.
It hurt to see her but . . . In some odd way, he was happy for her. He could tell she felt a lot better than she did yesterday just by looking at her. She wore a long, loose green paisley skirt and a loose white blouse with the sleeves rolled up. He noticed her fur and hair gleamed as though freshly scrubbed, there was no trace of the salty tear stains of yesterday.
Minutes ticked by in silence, which was fine for him, he didn't want to talk to her just yet. Why? Why was he feeling this way? He hadn't even been sure he'd felt anything for her until just yesterday, so why was he so heartbroken over this now?
"Because you thought you had a chance." his negative side replied in his mind.
"Wilt? Hey." her voice snapped him out of it, he looked at her.
"What happened to Frankie?" When had she left the room? He was thinking to hard if he didn't notice something like that . . .
"She went for another load of dishes. I just wanted to know, are you okay? You look like you're upset . . ." she said, a worried look crossing her emerald eyes.
She wanted to help him, Sweet Satin, she didn't even realize . . .
Putting on a softer smile he replied, "I'm okay, just a little tired."
"I'm sorry, you were probably kept up last night because of me." she sounded even more worried, "Look, Wilt, did I say anything last night to upset you?"
"It's okay, you didn't upset me last night." he replied softly.
"That much is true anyway." he thought to himself.
She continued, "You don't have to worry about me so much . . . I . . . I can be rather stupid sometimes and I don't want you to feel like you have to put up with me."
The words came out of his mouth before he could stop them, "It's a pleasure."
She looked up at him in confusion, "What is?"
"Putting up with you." he smiled sheepishly and for a moment, just a moment, it was like this morning had never happened.
She blushed prettily and murmured, "Thank you."
Wait a minute . . . Why was she blushing? His heart skipped a beat. He opened his mouth to speak but at the moment, Frankie returned with another load of dishes.
"Man, you'd think Mister Herriman would just switch to disposable plates already!"
Both friends focused their attention back on their tasks, intent on ignoring one another.
The dishes were finished soon, much to Wilt's immense relief. Frankie bustled off to do some other chores and he followed her. Satin was going to follow at first but Frankie had asked her to check the mail and do a mail call if she didn't mind. Satin had agreed and had walked away, casting worried glances back in his direction the whole way. He was so busy worrying that she'd show up and start questioning him again that he bumped into Frankie when she suddenly stopped. He looked up, she was opening the door to her bedroom.
"Get in there, Red Romeo and tell me what's up." she announced, gesturing him in.
She followed him in, shutting the door behind her and sitting in the computer chair backwards. He took a seat on the bed nervously.
"What's up with you and Satin, Wilt? I've never heard the two of you be so quiet washing dishes." Frankie asked, leaning forward.
Wilt sighed, "I'm sorry Frankie, it's just . . . I'm a little upset."
"A little? That's a vast understatement, Wilt. I've never seen you like this." Frankie said, "Oh, you may be fooling most of the residents but not your friends. What happened?"
"She doesn't love me." he blurted, then covered his mouth, he hadn't meant for it to come out like that. But the words seeped from his mouth like blood from a wound and he found himself describing that morning's incident to Frankie, who listened intently, even when he wiped a sudden tear from his eye. When he was finished, Frankie came over to sit beside him, "I'm sorry bud, I know that kind of thing hurts. But you know, this doesn't mean you have to avoid Satin, the feelings will go away in time. It may take awhile but you can still be her friend."
"I'm sorry Frankie but . . . I don't know if I can. It hurts to be near her." he replied.
"That doesn't sound like you, Wilt. You know . . . I think this is probably the first time I have ever seen you this upset since . . . Well, since Jodee dropped you off. Come'on, pal." she tugged at his arm, "You and me are going to the store. I need more cleaning supplies and you need a pick me up, so we'll drop by that new basketball court you've been wanting to check out at the park."
"I'm sorry, Frankie, that's nice and everything but I don't really feel like basketball right now." Wilt replied, his head in his hands.
Frankie's face softened and she threw her arms around the gangly red friend, "I'm sorry, Wilt."
Wilt was surprised, "What are you sorry for Frankie?"
Frankie sat back, "I didn't realize how bad it was until you said you didn't feel like basketball."
One corner of Wilt's mouth tugged up in the shadow of a smile, everyone knew basketball was his 'thing'. Frankie rose and pulled out her keys, "Look bud, why don't you take the day off, mull things over if you want. It might help. I've got to go to the store or I'd stay here with you."
She turned to leave and Wilt rose, "Wait, Frankie."
She looked back at him.
"I'll come with you."
Satin made her way through the halls, delivering the sack of mail that was delivered daily to Fosters to it's residents. She'd started on the far side of the house and was working her way around towards her hall so that she'd have some place to collapse when she was finished, who knew letters weighed so much!
Of course letters weren't the only things that came through the mail to Fosters. She'd been intrigued by her friend's mail. There had been a severely smudged envelope for Coco (at least that's who she thought it was for, the smudges made it almost unreadable), a Potatoes! Potatoes! Potatoes! catalogue for Eduardo, a Sports Illustrated for Wilt, which she slid under Bloo's bed for him, and a rather lumpy parcel marked 'From Red To Bloo', for Bloo.
Almost finished, she sped up her walk to get to her room for a break. She slid two letters under the door for Blot and Sanzer from room fifteen. There was a parcel for Cuddles that she placed just inside the door of room sixteen. And finally she was down to the last few pieces. There was a parcel from Barnes and Noble for Crackers and-
She dropped the bag and Cracker's book with a thud.
A letter.
A letter addressed to her.
"Natalie . . ."she choked, a tear rolling down her cheek, "Natalie!"
Running into her room, she tore the letter open and read it, trembling. When she finished the tears came, thick and fast. She reread it ten times, twenty times, but the words didn't change.
"No . . ." she sobbed, "Natalie . . ."