Disclaimer: I'm a pretty girl, and pretty girls are never lonely. However, they can get sued, and I don't wanna get sued. And so...ta-da! I own none of the characters and stuff. So live with it. Kisses!
Psychiatrists notes - Bree Van De Kamp
We made very little progress this week. Bree's defenses were at an all time high. We spoke extensively about knitting, bedsheets, gardening, a range of subjects. None of which so much as touched upon the subject of Bree's husband, children, or anything that could have possibly set off one of the admittedly uncommon moments in which Bree's shell cracks. I feel that there must be something that triggers this now, although at the same time I get the impression that Bree is becoming more cunning in avoiding these triggers. I have a plan which I think I will have to test next time, as I feel that it could be a deciding factor in my analysis of what has caused Bree to retreat into this state.
Andrew paced back and forth. He'd been awake until one in the morning waiting for Justin to call, and had woken up early too, to check his phone for messages, but nothing. "How does he think he can just go all cold suddenly? What is wrong with him? What is wrong with me? After everything I've done for that boy, all the sacrifices I've made-"
"All the blowjobs you've given him..." R-J muttered. The boy was sat on the edge of the swimming pool, while Andrew paced behind him. Since Paul Young had left, and Zack had disappeared soon after him, Andrew spent a lot of time in the pool out back of their house. He'd even cleaned it out himself a couple of times, and he was starting to think of it as his own. No one had moved into the Young house, and Andrew wasn't even sure if it was even up for sale. Certainly Edie Britt hadn't been around with any new faces.
He turned back to the other boy. He didn't really like R-J, but he smoked dope too, and they'd both been on the swim team at high school. R-J hadn't ever gone on to college, and they mostly just hung out for the sake of having someone else to talk to. Andrew had told him about him and Justin, although not the whole story, for the sake of having someone to bounce stuff off concerning the relationship. Truth be told, it was a great arrangement. R-J was too stoned most of the time to remember things he was told five minutes after, so there was no chance that anyone else would find out anything. Andrew was quite proud of that bit of cunning.
"Don't be crude. Why would he not call? What would he have been doing last night that meant he couldn't call? He always calls! For the last month or two, he's called every night, he wouldn't just stop!" Andrew kicked a pebble into the still water, sending ripples across it and onto R-J's legs. R-J carefully rolled a joint, his second of the day.
"Maybe..." R-J let the word just hang in the air as he lit and inhaled. Andrew watched, tapping a foot on the floor as the other boy sank back onto the sun warmed paving stones with his eyes closed.
"Well? Maybe what?" Andrew spat, once he thought R-J had had enough time to speak. R-J opened a single eye.
"Huh?"
Andrew sighed. "You just said 'maybe...'. Then you left it. What were you going to say?"
R-J scratched his chest. "Uh...I dunno now." Andrew wanted to kick him, which must have shown in his eyes, as the other boy tried to scramble up to his feet, getting about halfway before the drugs took over and he gave up.
"Sorry, sorry. I remember. Maybe your boy found another fag to screw, I was going to say. I mean, the dude musta been looking for someone else. I've seen Queer As Folk. These gayboys are like rabbits."
"Hey, shit for brains. I'm one of those fags."
"And so my point is proven."
Andrew snarled, and went for R-J again, trying to force him into the pool. The other boy had spent ages cultivating the strain of weed he was smoking, however, and it was some of the most powerful stuff about. R-J simply lay there like a rock, before Andrew finally gave up and sat, arms around his knees, with his back to the low wall surrounding the pool. "It doesn't make any sense. It was all going fine last night, I thought. We messed around all night, and he seemed normal."
"Did you, like, even actually talk to him? Or did you just, as usual, grab for it the moment he came in?"
Andrew glowered. "That's what always happens. Our relationship is based on sex. Comfortable sex. We can just mess around with each other, and we both know it's only for the night." He didn't mention the fact Justin sometimes only wanted to sleep with him, without doing anything, or to cuddle. He also didn't mention the fact that he enjoyed it almost as much as he suspected Justin did.
R-J shrugged, and blew a smoke ring. Andrew took this to mean the end of the conversation and put his head in his hands. R-J had given words to what Andrew had suspected, that Justin had another boyfriend, or girlfriend, or whatever. Just that he was getting some elsewhere than just from Andrew, and this was not a situation Andrew was wanting to accept. Especially considering the worrying attachment the younger boy felt towards the older one. "Big faggot better not have abandoned me" he muttered, trying to hide his feelings behind the insult. He wasn't sure who he was trying to hide them from, but he had a sneaking suspicion it was himself.
"Thanks for coming with me, Julie. I'm...I'm not sure I could have handled this by myself. I've never liked cemeteries."
Julie refrained from saying, who does? Mainly because she could see Danielle was pretty much on the verge of breaking already. It was not the time to joke. Not the time to make fun. Just, not the time.
They were walking through the enormous cemetery that had always in living memory served as the final resting place of every Wisteria Lane resident who had kicked the proverbial bucket. All around them, the gravestones stuck up, row upon row of them, the pattern occasionally broken by the odd walk-in tomb. Julie spotted the Solis monstrosity in the distance, the flowers even at that length looking dead. 'Just like everything else in this creepy place' thought Julie, as she followed Danielle in the direction of her fathers plot.
"There it is." Julie looked past Danielle. The grave she pointed at was looking distinctly bare, the eight stones surrounding it lain with flowers and notes and toys, creating a colourful circle around the slab of black stone. The effect was wierd, and Julie shuddered as she realised Mr Van Der Kamps headstone was the only one in at least a five hundred metre circle not to be adorned with something.
Danielle clutched the bunch of lilies she'd brought her dad. It felt like a poor offering. She'd never found out what her fathers favourite flowers were. It wasn't the kind of thing they'd talked about. Whenever there had been bouquets in the house, they'd either been bought by Mom, or her father had bought the traditional. Red roses for love, or apologies, the amount corresponding exactly. He'd been broken in by her mother, ever since he'd picked up a random amount and she's seperated them into a bunch of twelve, one of six, and then four single roses. She'd even sniffed as she stepped back to look at them. 'There's nothing that's really said by twenty roses, especially' she'd muttered. Danielle was six at the time, and it was one of her most vivid memories. That was the first time she saw her mother might be turning into something...else.
She looked back at Julie, who had hung back at the headstone in front of her father. "I'll just be a minute. I want to say some stuff to him."
Julie nodded, and walked a respectful distance away. Danielle knelt down, and rested the flowers against the base of the stone. Rocking back on her heels, she stared at the engraved writing. Only seconds ago, she'd have said anything, everything to her dad. Her and John, Andrew, her mother, the fact that she was really confused about the entirety of her life right now, at that very moment. But then, suddenly, seeing the chiselled marks that were the only testament to her daddy's life, that one day would disappear, leaving nothing left of the one person who could make her feel better whenever, the one who never let her down, she started to realise he was gone. The only person, in the whole world, who she'd loved. Her mother, John, her brother, she liked them, they could make her feel safe, but she couldn't say with any conviction that she loved them. Not the way she'd loved her dad.
It could have been the fact he was gone now, the fact that he wasn't here with all his minor faults, that she only remembered him being perfect. She'd disregarded all the times he'd not turned up for a school concert, hadn't been as supportive as he could have been with all her club joining, and only remembered getting the perfect Christmas present from him, the smile on his face when she learned to ride a bike from him, the way he'd hugged her when she'd been injured. He'd always been the emotion oin the family, with her and Andrew, the one who got passionate about subjects he cared about, the one who gave hugs with meaning, who smiled properly, rather than just strech the sides of his mouth up like her mother. Mom was the logic, Dad the emotion. Both together were supposed to make the perfect parent. Clearly that hadn't worked out.
"Hi Daddy. I hope you're okay..." Where was she supposed to go from here? Danielle's eyes suddenly welled up with tears.
"I'm really sorry I haven't been to visit yet, but my life's been really complicated recently..." one teardrop fell onto the ground, "and I don't see why I'm making excuses to a slab of marble." She sucked in a breath, but it caught in her throat and made her choke. Sobbing and gasping at the same time, anguished noises coming out of her throat like birds, she slowly leant forward, feeling the breath flow easier from her lungs until her forehead touched the grass, the cut marks still visible from where it had been pulled off then rolled back into place, hiding the unsightly scar of earth on the ground.
"I'm...so sorry, Daddy. Don't be disappointed in me." Danielle whispered into the sod, before closing her eyes and squeezing the last of the water from her eyes. She felt a warm hand in the small of her back, and pulled herself back up into a sitting position. Julie looked at her face with worry.
"Don't worry. I'm fine. All part of the grieving process, you know." Danielle streched her face into a watery grin, which disappeared as soon as Julie roughly grabbed her and pulled her into a strong hug.
"Don't hide from me, Danni. We know each other too well for this. Talk to me." Danielle felt fresh tears well up in her eyes, but these weren't ones of sadness this time. She pushed them back, and closed her arms around Julie, returning the hug.
"That's all I wanted to hear. Come on. I'm fine." They both got up and, with Julie's arm around Danielles waist supporting her, slowly made their way to the graveyard entrance.
Gabrielle drummed her finders on the steering wheel, as she stared across the street at the big white building on the other side of the road. There was no way in Hell anyone could mistake it for a school, despite the green gardens and elegant stonework. The bars on the windows and the buzzing fence were slight giveaways, although Gabrielle personally would have put them on in a school. No, it was the air of darkness around the place, and the fact that even in this blazing sunlight the grounds were empty, not even birds twittering.
The prison was still a prison, no matter how much the outside was dressed up. Carlos was in there with all the other local Fairview criminals, mostly white collar embezzelers, con artists and the like, screwing old people and the stupid out of their nest egg, and a couple of high class drug dealers. Gabrielle didn't go in there much, as she always imagined that, as she walked past, all the men were undressing her with their eyes, she was driving them into a frenzy of lust, it was only those flimsy bars that kept them from her. She smiled mischieviously. If she went more often, it wouldn't feel as good when she imagined it. That's why she was wearing the teeny-weeny black skirt. Although that was as much a present for Carlos as it was for the other inmates.
She slipped out of the hatchback, and tugged at her hem. Slowly she strutted across the parking lot, then the street. As the glass doors slid noiselessly apart in front of her, she felt the gust of cool, air-conditioned breeze that ran through the entire prison. This wasn't some blue-collar craphole (she mentally grimaced at using a word like that). This was one of the cushiest, classiest, most expensive places in the state. Now Carlos had accepted the plea-bargain, she had access to the bank accounts, as well as the hospital settlement, so they were no longer in money trouble. Gabrielle had still had to consider whether to let Carlos fry in the state penitentiary, though. She thought he deserved to feel some punishment. Morally challenged though she could be, she knew slavery was wrong, and not even a pair of leather Gucci stillettos handcrafted by a deft two year old Vietnamese kid could change her mind.
Still, Gabrielle had 'enrolled' Carlos here. She wanted to punish him, but she'd heard what could happen in less up-market state prisons. She'd loved Carlos once, maybe still loved him. She didn't want any red-neck Bubbas or Billy Bobs turning his ass into a windsocket. Not while she owned it, anyway.
The clerk behind the desk looked up and smiled as she approached the desk, and Gabrielle shuddered inwardly. It was one of those clerks. The kind that are always bright and cheerful, no matter what they're telling you you can't do, right up until you just want to gouge out their eyes. She fixed a plastic smile onto her own face, and stepped forward. " I'm here to see my husband. Carlos Solis? I have a private visit with him."
The clerk nodded, and turned to his computer screen for a moment, tapping something in. He furrowed his brow, and bit his bottom lip. "Mrs Solis, is that right?"
She nodded, and the clerk gave her a sympathetic smile. "I'm afraid we won't be able to allow you to see your husband today. He was engaged in some illegal activity yesterday night, and the guards took away his visiting rights for today. You could make another appointment, if you wish?"
Gabrielle felt her grin droop slightly, before she holstered it back up. Years of dealing with uncooperative people had taught her to fight dirty in situations like this, so long as she got what she wanted. "I'm afraid that would be impossible, you see, I only occaisionally get the opportunity to drive out here. My family commitments keep me busy, and I couldn't leave my...son alone for too long." She laughed silently. It was probably wrong to invent children, but she wouldn't have to pay for it for a long time, she didn't think...
"You have a child? That's not programmed into the system. But still. I'm unable to allow you see your husband. I suggest you find someone to look after your child on another day."
Gabrielle heard the slightly steely note enter the clerks voice, but decided to risk pushing it. She leant forward onto the sill of the desk, brushing her coat out of the way, and squeezed her arms together, like Marilyn Monroe, emphasising her already quite impressive cleavage. She flashed the clerk another, more dangerous smile, while reading the name off his tag. "Oh no, I wouldn't want to offend anyone...David. What an attractive name! Are you sure that you couldn't DO anything for ME right now? I wouldn't tell anyone." She winked. She was a professional model. Using her body to get what she wanted was second nature. And there was no way anyone could resist her.
The clerk glanced at her chest briefly and unconcernedly, before slowly bringing his gaze up to meet Gabrielle's, withering her smile on the spot. Without looking, he reached across to the computer, and tapped one key. "Oh, I'm afraid it looks like there's nothing I can do for you. I'm terribly sorry. Looks like you'll have to come back tomorrow."
Gabrielle leant back, her eyes widening. Then she shook her head, and leant back forwards, pushing her boobs up even further. "I'm sorry. I didn't quite catch that. Are you telling me I CAN'T see my husband?"
The clerk smiled thinly. "No way, no how. Now, I believe the door is over there, madam."
Gabrielle turned, and started to walk away, her body on autopilot. Suddenly she felt a hand on her shoulder, as the clerk leant over the desk. "One thing, Mrs Solis. Terrible though it may be, your breasts won't work as currency everywhere. And please, don't come back and wave them in my face as though I'm meant to care. I found out a long time ago that I'm remarkably immune to them, if you know what I'm saying."
With that, he released her, and sunk back into his chair with a smug smile, and resumed his typing. Gabrielle stood still, except for a slow narrowing of her eyes. Finally she turned back to him. "You mean to say..."
"Yes, Mrs Solis. I. Like. Men. And your udders aren't going to get you anywhere near your husband. Off the record, of course." He smirked up at her. She looked down. Udders? Oooh...
"David. Are we still off the record?"
"Why, certainly, Mrs Solis. Give it your best shot."
As she jumped into her car across the road, Gabrielle smiled, satisfied. He'd said it was off the record, and that she should give it her best shot, so she had. Although he probably hadn't been expecting to get maced.
Okay, I'm gonna start on the next one right now. Hope you enjoy this one, despite the thickness of the wording. And the absence of Justin. Hmm...I predict gratuitous nudity in the next installment;).