To butterflywings32—Yes, agreed. Edward is not really a complete robot. But he's not a complete human either. He's a mix of both, betwixt and between. And thank you for the challenging statement! smiles
Johnnydeppfanatic13—Starry eyed Really? Oh, shucks! I'm blushin'! I feel honored, thanks!AND THANK YOU CATHY, AGAIN! I promise my Sleepy Hollow fiction will continue but I cannot force myself to write when I'm not inspired—believe me I have tried, and it only produces crap. Give me some time and I promise I'll give you a chapter as soon as genius burns.
Edward placed his coat next to him on the black velvet sofa. The room was unreasonably small, with only one huge window letting in a flood of foggy, silvery city daylight. The window was veneered with wood-brown dust, it had been cracked all over, like an Easter egg, and it had been taped up, making it look like an abstract painting.
The sofa took up almost half of the drawing room, but this did not effect the regal elegance of the cozy, proud little lodging. There was a tiny metal fireplace at the other end of the room, with piles of black and white pictures, paintings, and dried flowers. It was a dusty, cramped little room, but it was welcoming and, somewhat, lazy. Edward smiled, comfortably, and sat back, letting the soft, caressing velvet rub against his back and arms.
The living room smelled like antique books... old, crispy...The gloomy gray sunlight shined through the unclean window, leaving a nice, womb-like glow passing the red curtains. The floor was covered with a comfy gentle-colored yellow carpet, the dark blue and black velvet sofa rested in the heart of the room.
Edward felt his vision blur and his eyelids sag down, sleepily. The night had most certainly been an eventful one, which had greatly taxed on his energy, but, along with that, the slow, molasses-like feel of the room assisted to lull Edward into a sort of trance. He couldn't sleep, not really—not like he had seen little Lucy do—so peaceful and oblivious, but he only, as Aunt Jill named it, "day dreamed".
He let his head droop down to his chest, and he felt his eyes close, letting the sweet warmth and friendliness of the den seep into his soul. He was really, very, very comfortable.
The mechanical man felt his chest swell up and he sighed, exhausted, letting the silence of the room envelop him. He had been accustomed to the ruckus, the temper tantrums, the arguments, and chaos of the Walters' home—and to the sleaziness, depression, and morally disturbing aura of Kennedy's apartment.
Here was unlike those places---so soft and silent—it reminded him of a library. There, Edward noticed to his confusion, was no TV or computer in her living room, just mountains of books and glittering religious symbols. Edward was glad of that, he had grown not to like TV programs—ever since Peg and Bill displayed obvious disgust with him watching it.
Victoria's nest was quiet and content. The smell of books came through his nostrils as Edward sighed once again, letting his tired head drop down even farther.
"Tea or coffee, Edward?" Victoria said, poking her frizzy head out of the petite kitchen doorway.
"Oh..." Edward said, lifting his head, opening out of his trance, "Tea, please..."
Victoria vanished into the kitchen, and he returned after a considerable amount of time with a tray of tea and scones.
Let us pretend that we are in the drawing room and the hostess is serving tea. Now many numerous little questions confront us...Edward heard his father's voice whisper in his mind, like a dream, as he watched the steamy tea being poured into the blue teacups.
Many questions did confront him, Edward noticed. How was he to hold the teacup? Was it ill mannered to eat some of the scones? How much tea should he drink?
Edward gulped, feeling his stomach bubble nervously. He hoped he wouldn't make a fool of himself to his only friend in the city.
Should the man rise when he accepts his cup of tea?
Edward pondered if he should rise, but, hesitantly, decided against it.
May lump sugar be taken with the things? Is it good form to accept a second cup? Now, should the napkin be entirely unfolded or should the center crease be allowed to remain?
He felt his mind wander from the situation, and he forced his memory back to every detail about etiquette that had ever been bestowed in him.
It is so easy to commit embarrassing blunders but etiquette tells us just what is expected of us and guards us from all humiliation and discomfort.
Humiliation and discomfort...Edward wanted desperately not to be awkward and uncommon—even though he had two beautiful, normal hands now...Edward still felt like he was different, "special"—but never in a good way."Edward?" the lady said, "Not to worry—here, I'll just put sugar in. Sweetens the spirits, I say, and it tastes better in my opinion."
Two crystal-white cubes were plunked into the warm brown tea, and they caused little brown bubbles to swirl clockwise in the little cup. Edward liked the way it looked.
Victoria put the teacup on the table, gingerly, careful not to spill it, and slid it closer to Edward. She grabbed her cup of misty tea and sat down on and creaky, oak chair across from the velvet sofa.
Victoria smiled, politely, and Edward returned the smile, sleepily.
"Thank you," Edward said, reaching for the tea.
Victoria sipped the tea, and let it sooth her throat. Edward followed her example, watching her every move, trying to copy her example. He'd never properly had tea before.
"Well, then." Victoria began, very mannerly, "Where are you from, Edward?"
"I'm—Canadian." Edward said, guilt audible in his voice. He felt terrible. He was already lying to his only city friend.
But this made Victoria's face grin and her eyes widened, enthusiastically, "Really? That's awesome, Edward. I've always wanted to go to Canada."
Edward tried to smile, but the guilt only made him feel more and more miserable.
"What is it like?" Victoria asked Edward.
Edward froze, stunned silent. He had never been to Canada, let alone know what it was like... Lying was bad...He scolded himself for ever listening to Kennedy.
After a moment of silence, Victoria repeated her question, slightly concerned, "What is Canada like, Edward?"
Edward scolded himself again. He was making himself more stupid by the second. He remembered that he had once seen Canada on a map...and it was, what seemed to be, just a big patch of green.
"It's..." Edward struggled for some answer. "...it's very interesting."
"In what way?" Victoria asked, frowning.
"Um...It's...green..."
Mentally, Edward kicked himself.
"Oh?...oh...Oh, I see!" Victoria said, nodding her head, apparently understanding, "It must be great having all that nature around you. We never have any of that over here in Urban—it gets me depressed, all this concrete and glass. Even the parks are littered with trash over here. What part of Canada are you from, anyway?"
"Ottawa." Edward winced,regretfully...another lie...
"The capital? Wow. So...this is just curiosity, but what's the political situation like over there?" Victoria said, sipping some more tea.
"The...political situation?" Edward felt his heart sink; he hadn't a clue.
"You know—" Victoria encouraged. "Their situation on the war."
Edward frowned, shocked to the soul, "There's a war?"
Silence.
Victoria stopped in mid-drink as her eyes widened in shock and disbelief. Edward felt that he had just said something incredibly stupid.
....Humiliation and discomfort...
Victoria smiled but her eyes frowned, "Oh, I see. Not a political type, are you?"
"No..." Edward said—but it was, at least, not a lie.
"Well, that's okay. I grew up in a very un-political area... That's why I moved to the city, you know..."
Victoria was nice, Edward thought. She didn't make him feel like an idiot, unlike Isabel or Kennedy who always snickered when he said something or did something he wasn't supposed to.
Edward mustered the courage to say, "Where?"
"Suburbia. Let me tell you, it may be pretty and cute on the outside---but on the inside it's as hollow and as primitive as a rotten log." Victoria muttered, gulping down her tea.
Before Edward could stop himself, he said, "I came from Suburbia, too!"
"But..." Victoria said, frowning, "I—I thought you said you were from Canada, Edward."
Edward stared at his teacup, nervously.
"Oh, I see. You have relatives in Suburbia?" Victoria sighed, pouring some more brown tea into the blue teacup. "Small world."
"Uh huh..." Edward said, drinking his tea, quietly. But Edward was telling another lie—the world was actually vast and difficult and frightening...not small.
"Well, now..." Victoria put her teacup in her lap, and frowned in concentration, "To be honest, I didn't always live in Suburbia...You see, when I was a little kid, six or seven, my parents passed away—and then I was sent to live with my aunt in Suburbia."
"I'm sorry." Edward said.
"For what?" Victoria asked, confused.
"Your parents." Edward said, sympathetically... almost pathetically. He knew what it was like to lose a parent—and he could only imagine how terrible it must be to lose, not one, but two parents.
Victoria didn't seem at all sad, though. "I know they're in Heaven now, though."
Edward felt his brow frown. How was she so sure about this? People had acted like heaven was so close, real, and common that all you had to do was look up in the sky, squint your eyes, and look for angels. But Edward never saw any, and he was starting to wonder what people were really talking about when they said those forbidden words; "death", "heaven", and "hell". Edward had never died, and he wondered how long it would be before he did...
"I was well cared for, don't worry, Edward. Auntie really was a wonderful guardian." Victoria said, smiling warmly, as she looked at her murky, slushy reflection in the teacup. , "And I'm blessed to have known Esmeralda, I believe."
One word stuck out of all the others, like a bleeding, swelling, and infected thumb. Esmeralda. Edward knew her—had known her—once.
"Esmeralda?" Edward whispered to himself, thoughtfully.
Esmeralda Emerson had made him nervous. Dreadfully nervous. She called him a "demon", a "devil", a "perversion of nature". She called Peg and Bill "sheep". But... Edward was never really scared of Esmeralda; he mostly felt bad for the crazy lady. He felt like she was a milder version of himself, after all, she too had been a social outcast.
"Did you know her, Edward?" Victoria asked, surprised. She watched him for a moment. "No? Well, she was wonderful—though I am positive you have heard otherwise...People used to say she wasn't fit to keep a child, and they branded her a mental case, though she wasn't."
Edward frowned. From his understanding, Esmeralda actually –had- been a mental case.
"She was odd, I'll admit, but I didn't mind her much. Behind her eccentricities, she was a very interesting person, actually." Victoria stirred her tea with a spoon; "Did you know that she was the only woman in that area of the 'burbs to actually have a job outside the home? She was one of the few women who practiced their right to vote, too, you know, but those were different times, weren't they?"
They definitely had been different times, Edward thought, as he sipped some of his tea, letting all the new information sink into his brain.
On a more cheerful note, Victoria inquired. "Do you like the city?"
Edward looked at Victoria and prepared to lie again, but he couldn't do it. Edward sighed softly and told the truth, "Not really."
"That's a shame to hear. Why?"
Edward felt a lie coming on, but he pushed it back and let the truth come forward, "It's strange. It...it makes me feel very alone."
Victoria blinked a few times and nodded her head, quickly, "As if you're in a room packed full of people, but you feel like you're all by yourself?"
Edward looked up at Victoria, and jolted a little, for that was precisely how he felt. He nodded, while sipping some more tea.
"But, you know, Edward, the city's pretty nice if you go to the right places." Victoria advised, wisely, as she finished up her third cup of tea. She captured a scone from the tray and bit into it, letting the tiny crumbs fall down into her napkin.
Kennedy had said that he'd take Edward to the right places, and Edward wanted nothing to do with 'right' places anymore. But, simply out of politeness, he asked, "Where?"
"The museums, libraries, theaters, galleries—they're all great places." Victoria squinted her eyes, and frowned at Edward, skeptically, "You know, Edward, I think...I think the only reason you're so glum about being in the city is because you haven't had guidance on where to go."
She was entirely correct, and Edward knew it.
It took Edward some time before he could pry his mouth open and force words out, "Could you—? Could---you?"
"Show you where to go?" Victoria said, helpfully, chewing on her crumbly scone. "Of course, Edward."
Edward breathed a sigh of relief, "Thank you."
"Well, considering what you did for me; it's really the least I can do." Victoria said to Edward.
"More tea?"
"Yes, thank you." Edward said, gratefully."Holy fucking shit, Edward! Where the fuck have you been? Damn this fucking...look where on the fucking earth have you been? Huh? C'mon!"
"I'm... really sorry." Edward pleaded, trying to get into the apartment.
"Sorry? Oh fuck it, Edward! Fuck it all to motherfucking hell!" Kennedy shouted, as he raised his hand, as if to strike Edward.
Edward's eyes widened as he saw the fist rise higher and higher in the air.
"You're not even...worth it." Kennedy spat out, as he stormed off, got a beer from the fridge, and slumped on the coach.
"I'm sorry." Edward apologized, weakly, as he hardly knew what he had done, "Please forgive me, Ken."
"Oh, yeah." Ken hissed out, hatefully, "I'm sure you are, little...nevermind. Just—stay away from me for a couple of weeks, kay, Ed? I can't fucking...just, just stay away, alright?"
"I'm sorry. Please forgive me."
"I know. I know, okay? I just—fucking—can't...handle anything right now. I...Isabel and I broke up..." Kennedy said, flatly.
What does that mean? Edward thought to himself, but he dared not ask.
"Just leave me alone." Kennedy croaked and for a split second, Edward thought he saw something like a tear slip down Dr. Ken Boggs' young face.
Edward nodded his head and quietly shuffled off to his room, while Kennedy downed his sorrows in the beer bottle and numbed his mind with the television.
A cold, wrathful stare spurted out of Victoria's spectacle covered eyes.
Victoria grimaced, "Hello, Dr. Boggs."
No answer from Kennedy, just a shocked, angry stare gleamed from his optics. He stayed put, frozen to the ground in the kitchen. He slowly, cautiously spread jelly jam onto an English muffin, his eyes still furiously staring at Victoria Emerson.
Edward interrupted the tense staring contest as he was getting his coat on and lacing up his shoes. He smiled, innocently, at both of them, very oblivious to the obvious hatred the two people had for each other.
"You know her?" Ken asked Edward, darkly, as he poured milk into an orange plastic cup.
Edward nodded, happily, "She's going to show me the city."
"Oh, right..." Ken said, his voice getting deeper and darker by the second. "Well, hello, Vikki...Remember me? I'm that guy you harassed. Yeah, well nice to know you're living around here...maybe you can try and smash my head in again sometime, huh?"
Victoria said nothing, but her mouth began to get tighter and tighter until her lips were all scrunched up and pale. She looked like she was going to murder someone.
Edward looked back and forth between Victoria and Kennedy—he didn't understand what Ken was talking about. Why was Victoria looking so...dangerous and evil?
Kennedy laughed, dryly, as he wrathfully squinted his eyes at Victoria, "You put me through hell, you know that, hon? Every single fucking project, you and your little purity posse was there, screwing around with things. God, there wasn't one project you didn't protest! Saying you were going it for mankind's well being or whatever..."
"I had good reason to protest your projects, Dr. Boggs. Very good reason." Victoria said, under her breath, "You didn't even care that your project effected the Nepalese Maoist Rebellion! You're a selfish man. You took funding away from—"
"Pardon me, but you've obviously mistaken me for someone who gives a damn." Ken hissed, louder, "And, in case you have not noticed, my dear—I'm a broke, sad little bastard. I've learned my lesson already, okay, preacher?"
Victoria scoffed, haughtily, "Learned your lesson?" She looked down at the piles of empty beer bottles, "I'm sure... after that perversion of nature, that robot, you tried to rebuild. I remember...that thing sliced a man to bits, not to mention raped a woman...And you still helped it, didn't you?"
Edward frowned and his heart sunk down to his shoes. Victoria didn't even call him a person—she just said 'robot' and 'it'... so she was just like Esmeralda. Edward felt like someone had just cut out his stomach.
Kennedy looked at Edward, mischievously, "Do you know who Edward is, hmm? Ms. Emerson?"
Edward's eyes pleaded for Kennedy not to tell.
Victoria caught the glance and said, "Of course. Edward saved my life, and he is a good man. And I am still trying to piece together why exactly he is associated with you, Dr. Boggs."
Kennedy smiled a disgusting, sly smile. His brown eyes flared up.
"We're cousins."
Victoria raised her eyebrows, and her glasses slipped, clumsily, "Oh?" She said, quite surprised. "I knew I recognized you, Edward. Have you been to one of the protests?"
"In a way he has." Kennedy said, sharply.
"Well," Victoria growled, "I didn't ask you."
"Well," Kennedy smiled, sourly, "I don't really care."
"Do you know what? I would usually take offense at that, Dr. Boggs." Victoria said, taking Edward by the sleeve and pulling him towards the door, "But I will not cast pearls before swine."
"Oh, there you go with your Bible crap!" Kennedy's head snapped towards Edward and Ken hissed out a loud, meltingly angry voice, "Don't you dare let her near me, okay, Ed? She's more trouble than you think."
"Don't worry, Dr. Boggs," Victoria said, slowly and sickly, "I'll make sure I'm no where near you. Not that I'd want to be. Come on, Edward, let's let the man wallow in his own filth..."
With one yank, Edward was pulled out the door, and as soon as he was outside, the door was shut.
Kennedy scowled as he took a bite out of his breakfast and washed it down with milk.