Title: Confessions Lead to Strange Bedfellows
Author: Kimberly21570
Fandom: Guiding Light
Pairing: Olivia and Natalia
First and foremost, thanks to all of you for the warm thoughts following the storm last week. While some areas near me here in St. Louis were absolutely demolished, the damage is nothing in comparison to the total devastation and loss of life in the South this past Wednesday. My thoughts and prayers go out to all who were affected. I cannot even fathom what they must be going through…
Disclaimers and Other Assorted Ramblings: The characters of Olivia Spencer, Natalia Rivera, Buzz, Frank, Eleni, Daisy and Nadine Cooper, and Phillip and James Spaulding are owned by Guiding Light, CBS/TeleNext and Proctor & Gamble. No copyright infringement intended with regard to GL, CBS/TeleNext, Proctor & Gamble, or any other entity. Written for fun, not profit. All other standard disclaimers apply.
Chapter 8 consists of 9 updates, the majority of which will be presented in smaller segments than what you're generally accustomed to receiving. I find this to be the most prudent presentation because, while there is an overarching theme, each major segment has its own specific purpose. The segments will be posted weekly over the course of several weeks, which will allow me to continue providing you all with regular updates through the end of my semester. I will endeavor to post on the same day each week. Dialogue in this chapter is original. There are brief mentions of the conversation between Olivia and Frank that aired on 1.13.2009.
Rating: Chapter 8.5 is rated R for course language. This is probably the shortest update I've ever posted, but it's necessary in order to deal with Frank's pissy attitude, and set the stage for things to come… I know many of you don't care for Frank because of the way he behaved after Natalia left him on GL. It is not my goal to change your mind about him; but I have, admittedly, endeavored to make him human, in that he experiences real emotion—even if those emotions are unreasonable—rather than the dimwitted asshole GL turned him into for a while there during the final days of the show. There are also a few homophobic slurs in this chapter. Again, they are reasonable given the context of the character and scene, and are absolutely not taken lightly.
All that being said, I hope the update goes down easily…
Finally, I know I'm a day late with this update; but I swear I'm not a dollar short! LOL It's been a crazy week getting my final presentations ready for Monday (they're still not quite finished), and interviewing for internship positions, but I do apologize for being late with the post. I have another interview on Tuesday, and then as far as I know my week is clear, so I'll be around posting responses to your wonderful feedback from the past three updates. Thank you, as always, for sharing this journey with me. I appreciate each and every one of you…
Regards—
Kimberly
Confessions Lead to Strange Bedfellows
Copyright May, 2009
"No man will be found in whose mind airy notions do not sometimes tyrannize, and force him to hope or fear beyond the limits of sober probability."
Samuel Johnson
"Illusions commend themselves to us because they save us pain and allow us to enjoy pleasure instead. We must therefore accept it without complaint when they sometimes collide with a bit of reality against which they are dashed to pieces."
Sigmund Freud
Chapter 8.5 – Confessions and Confrontations | Reality Bites:
Saturday Evening—Company…
A quick swipe at the frosted glass in the "staff only" doorway that separated the kitchen from the remainder of the restaurant, removed the smudges from the inside. Satisfied with his work, Buzz set the folded towel on the stainless steel countertop. Daisy had finished her side-work an hour or so prior, and offered to help with the kitchen; but he declined the offer. After all, he remembered what it was like being a teenager in love, and having to work on Saturday night. A shameless grin toyed with his lips, as an errant thought crossed his mind: A little more work on one particular Saturday night way back when, most assuredly would have meant he and Nadine wouldn't have welcomed a bouncing bundle wrapped in blue nine months later. He laughed at the memory of forbidden nights in the backseat of that old '55 Chevy he had rescued from a junk yard, and returned his thoughts to his teenaged granddaughter—praying she had better sense than he did at that age.
It hadn't taken much for him to convince Daisy she would rather spend the remainder of her evening with James—so she hugged him, and kissed him on the cheek, saying, "thanks, Grandpa," in that giggly teenaged girl sort of way, and she was out the door like a shot. The affection in her voice was all the thanks he needed—the hug and kiss had made his entire day.
Surveying the kitchen one last time, he flipped the light switches; extinguishing all illumination except that which emanated from the streetlamp just outside the front door. Pushing through the kitchen doorway, he entered the dining area, expecting to find the place empty, and in perfect order. He found the order, of course, because Daisy was meticulous about her work; but he also found Frank—sitting at the bar, brooding over another beer. There were six empties sitting on the bar next to him.
"Hey, I didn't realize you were still here," Buzz said, walking toward the bar. "I thought you left after—"
Frank cut him off before he could say their names—he just couldn't stand the thought of hearing it. "Just thought I'd give Marina and Mallet a little privacy, is all."
Buzz nodded his head; but he didn't believe a word his son had said. He propped his elbows on the bar, planting his chin in the upturned palm of his hand. "What seems to be the problem, Frankie?" he said; obvious affection in his tone. "You haven't been yourself in days."
"It's nothin', Pop," Frank lied; not very convincingly.
"Don't give me that shit, Frank," Buzz said; though, not angrily. "Somethin's up, and we both know it."
"What if I said I didn't wanna talk about it?" Frank queried.
"Then I'd say that's too damned bad," Buzz replied. It wasn't like him to meddle, but he knew his son was hurting. "Bottling things up only makes them worse. And though you think it's numbing you to it, alcohol only fuels the pain," he said wisely; snatching the beer bottle from Frank's hand. He was thankful his son hadn't hit the hard liquor.
"Pop!" Frank protested. His eyes flashed with anger.
Dumping the contents of the bottle into the sink, Buzz tossed it, along with the other empties, into the recycle bin. "Don't 'Pop' me," he said. "I'm not gonna just sit by and watch you self-destruct over a woman."
Frank looked up at him, surprise etched in his expression. "You know?"
"About Olivia and Natalia?" Buzz replied. "Would've been kinda hard to miss, especially after tonight."
"Oh," Frank grunted; eyes nervously diverting from his father's steady gaze.
Even in the muted light that filtered through the front windows, Buzz could see the pain engraved in his son's face. "There's more to this, isn't there?" he asked, knowingly.
"I, um…" Frank nodded and cleared his throat, uncomfortably, "I asked Natalia to, uh…" He reached into his jacket pocket, pulling out the ring box, gripping it tightly in his hand, "to marry me, Pop," he confessed, "and, uh…" Damn, this was humiliating. "And she, uh… she responded by telling me she was, uh… she was… in love with Olivia," he finished; slamming the box down onto the bar. It was then that he realized how pathetic it was that the box was still in his pocket.
Buzz's eyes flickered back and forth between the box and Frank's face. "You did what?" He couldn't believe what he was hearing.
The expression on Frank's face was an amalgam of exasperation and pleading. "Please don't make me say it again," he nearly begged.
Covering his face with his hands, Buzz sighed heavily. "Oh, for Christ's sake, Frank, you only had two dates with the woman," he barked. "What the hell did you expect her to say?"
"We made love, Pop," Frank whined.
Buzz's eyes shot up immediately. "You did what? When?" Now he really couldn't believe what he was hearing! Reaching into the pocket of his rumpled white shirt, he fished out a half-empty pack of cigarettes and a lighter.
"Natalia and I, we made love," Frank repeated, "after Coop's funeral. She came over to help me pack up his things, and well, y'know…" He shrugged helplessly, almost sheepishly; then rested his forearms on the bar, studying the patterns in the wood with what little light there was in the room. "It felt really good to be close to her that way, and… well, that's when I realized I was in love with her."
"What is it you think you love about Natalia?" Buzz asked, forthrightly. He lit the cigarette, and returned the paraphernalia to his pocket.
Frank shot a disgruntled look toward his father. "What's not to love about her?" he asked, rhetorically; swiping at the stream of smoke that wafted past his face. "She's perfect."
"Perfect?" Buzz's tone begged the question. He took another drag from the cigarette, allowing the simple act to soothe him, before exhaling another stream of smoke.
"Yeah, y'know, she's… Well, she's sweet and kind, and… she's gentle and loving, and… she's beautiful. God, she's so beautiful, Pop, with those gorgeous brown eyes, so full of life," he practically gushed. "And she's so innocent, and pure, and—"
Buzz scratched at the scraggly hairs on his chin, as he considered Frank's response carefully; though nothing his son had said surprised him in the least. Natalia was indeed all those things. But so was a ghost from Frank's past. "Y'know, Frank, it sounds as though Natalia reminds you of someone else," he postulated. "A certain woman you've never quite gotten over?" The suggestion was clear.
"Don't be ridiculous, Pop," Frank said, dismissing his father's obvious correlation between the past and present objects of his affection. "This has nothing to do with Eleni."
"Interesting, that you knew I was referring to Eleni," Buzz noted.
Frank scowled at him.
"How can you be so sure it has nothing to do with her?" Buzz challenged, ignoring the expression on his son's face. "You have to admit, they bear a striking resemblance to one another, in physical traits, personality, and character."
Again, Frank ignored the truth in his father's comparison. "I gave up on the dream of being with Eleni a long time ago," she sighed. He couldn't bring himself to deny that he still loved her. He would always love her—she was the mother of his only child. But she was gone now. In a move that was completely out of character for her, she had left him, and she was never coming back. Reality bites.
"Really?" Buzz said, rhetorically. He didn't wait for a response. "Then why is it you've never been able to move on? Why did it take meeting a woman who reminds you of the love of your life—"
"You're wrong, Pop," Frank insisted; though he knew damned well his father was right on the money.
Buzz knew it was futile to continue arguing—his son could be stubborn as an ass, at times. There was really no need anyway. He knew he was right about the connection to his former daughter-in-law, and he had made his point. Eventually, Frank would admit it as well. "Guess that settles it then, huh?" Again, the question was rhetorical. He had continued the pattern of taking a drag, then exhaling as they talked; and now that both the cigarette and the conversation about Eleni were finished, he ground the butt out in a nearby ashtray.
"How can you still care so much for that woman after the way she hurt you?" Frank asked, seemingly out of nowhere.
"What woman?" Buzz asked, thoroughly confused.
"Olivia," Frank grumbled. "I saw you earlier, laughing and smiling at her, as if nothing bad ever happened. She breaks your heart, and somehow, you end up loving her even more for the pain. How the fuck does she do that?" he wondered aloud. "It just pisses me off to see her getting away with that shit over and over again."
That confirmed Buzz's earlier postulation—He knew Frank had gotten over Olivia's past misdeeds long ago, and they had even forged a friendship of sorts. And now he was angry again; which explained his foul moods, of late. "Bitterness doesn't get you anywhere, Frank," he answered, forthrightly. "Besides, I figure after everything you and Harley forgave of me, the least I could do is extend a little of that toward Olivia. She's not a bad person, son. She was just lost; trying to find her way," he explained. "And I think she's finally found what she was missing."
"How can you be so sure of that, Pop?" Frank's skepticism was clearly evident in his tone.
"Have you seen her lately?" Buzz asked. "I've never seen her happier."
Remembering the conversation he'd had with Olivia about how the living arrangements were working out with Natalia, again, Frank had to admit to himself that his father was right—Olivia really was happier than he'd ever seen her. And he had said as much to her, himself. But still, Olivia's track record was disastrous, at best. "I'm just worried about Natalia, Pop."
"It isn't your place to protect her, Frank. She's a grown woman, and she can take care of herself," Buzz pointed out. "And if there's ever a time when she can't, well, then… I think it's Olivia's place to be there for her—not yours."
"I swear to God, if Olivia hurts her—" The intensity of the threat was implied in Frank's harsh tone.
"Then Natalia will learn and grow from the experience." Buzz added his own twist, to soften the implied threat. "Look, Frank, I know you care about Natalia. You've been a good friend to her, and I'm sure she appreciates that. But you need to realize she's not some damsel in distress, in need of a knight in shining armor. She's a strong, resilient, very capable woman, who can stand on her own two feet. Hell, she raised that boy all on her own, and she was a teenager when he was born."
"Yeah, she did," Frank conceded, "but she was also exhausted, stressed out, and lonely, and—"
"I think was, is the operative word here, Frank," Buzz interjected. "She's not any of those things anymore, and you need to stop seeing her as some frail little bird in need of being rescued."
"What makes you such an expert on Natalia, Pop?" Frank barked. It was the alcohol talking.
"Well, for one thing, I've spent a hell of a lot more time with her than you have, Frank," Buzz countered. He hadn't meant to sound so harsh. "And more importantly, I actually paid attention."
Frank winced at the implied accusation, but continued listening to what his father had to say.
"You see her as this sweet, vulnerable, virtuous woman that you can put on a pedestal—like Eleni, when you first fell in love with her," Buzz said, reiterating his previous comparison of the two women. "And yes, she is every one of those things. But she's so much more than that."
It was as if his father were channeling Olivia, Frank could hear so clearly her words as they had talked that morning not so very long ago.
"I see who Natalia really is—and I think she's a perfect match for Olivia. Finally, Olivia's found someone who can tame her, and keep her in line, without breaking her spirit."
"You really think they're that perfect for one another." Frank wasn't certain if it was a statement or a question.
Buzz nodded his head. "I do," he said with conviction. "It's not a pairing I ever would've expected. Not in a million years. But… they're both very clearly happy, and they both really deserve that after all they've been through. I'm happy for them."
Frank thought about everything his father had said, and then nodded his head, indicating that he agreed; albeit, grudgingly so—at least for now. "Maybe I can learn to be happy for them, too, Pop," he said. His voice was gruff with emotion.
"Just give it some time," Buzz said, with the firm planting of a hand on his son's shoulder. "But in the meantime, you need to stop living in the past, Frank," he tutored. "I know you loved Eleni, and I know you have no delusions that she's ever coming back; but you can't expect to move on by simply finding a replacement for her. Whether you're willing to admit it or not, that's exactly what Natalia was to you—a replacement for Eleni—and that wasn't fair to either one of you. You need to find someone to love for who they are, and not because they remind you of a lost love—even if that lost love was the love of your life."
"Thanks, Pop," Frank said, sincerely. Nothing that his father had said was really what he wanted to hear, but he appreciated the honesty—it was the cornerstone of their relationship, and it had served them well over the years since Buzz's return.
"Come on," Buzz said, supportively squeezing Frank's shoulder. "I'll give you a lift home. I don't think it would look very good if the Chief of Detectives were arrested for DUI."
"You have a point there," Frank agreed. He stood up from the barstool, shrugging into his coat.
"I make a lot of good points. You just need to listen more often," Buzz bantered, as he grabbed his weathered brown bomber jacket from behind the office door.
Frank laughed for the first time in days. "I'll keep that in mind, Pop," he said, affectionately slapping his father on the back, as they exited Company; locking the door behind them. It was a start.
He would spend a great deal of time over the next several months, reflecting upon his conversations with Olivia, Natalia, and his father, and ultimately he would come to admit that Buzz had been right. Not just about Eleni, but about everything. Natalia really was the strong, capable woman his father saw her to be—Olivia had seen it all along, and had even said as much to him once upon a time. Even more importantly, he would realize that the sparkle in Olivia's eyes, the passion in her voice as she spoke of Natalia's strengths and potential had made it clear, even then, the depth of her love and respect for the woman. And eventually, he would come to realize that Olivia and Natalia truly were perfect for one another; though that particular understanding would take place over the course of time, and through unexpected and painful circumstances.
Saturday Evening—Springfield Police Department…
Diane stumbled over her own two feet, and practically fell into the jail cell when the officer released her arm. She cursed under her breath, and shot him a loathsome glare.
Unperturbed, he ignored her, and went about securing the cell.
There was a harsh scraping sound, and then the heavy iron door slammed and locked behind her; trapping her in the confined space. Instantaneously her heart began to pound, as beads of sweat formed on her brow.
The officer turned on his heel, and strode out of the holding area.
Diane clutched her chest and gasped for air, as she fell to her knees.
"Guard!" an unfamiliar male voice yelled nearby. The sound reverberated between her ears, making her head scream. Bars were clanging, and she held her head, wincing, as he yelled again, "Guard!"
"What the hell are you bellowing about, Spaulding?" the guard demanded, as he reentered the cell block. Clearly, he was annoyed.
Phillip motioned toward the woman who had just been unceremoniously deposited in the cell next to his own. "I think there's something wrong with her."
"She's drunk! That's what's wrong with her," the guard snapped. "That… and she's a fucking homophobe," he muttered under his breath.
"No, seriously," Phillip argued, "I think you should check on her. She's having trouble breathing, and she was clutching her chest when she slumped down."
"I'm fine!" Diane barked. It was a boldfaced lie—her head was spinning, and she thought she might be ill. But weakness was intolerable. That message had been pounded into her since birth; along with another, more detrimental message—one that she was loath to recall. She tore her mind from undesired thoughts. "Jesus Christ—just shut the fuck up!" Indignant, she struggled to reclaim her purchase; barely landing on the nearby bench. She couldn't help but notice that it was bolted to the floor.
Pale green eyes darted up from those oppressive bolts, nervously scanning the confining space. The drab accommodations—the concrete walls and floor, the bench, the frame and mattress of the dilapidated cot, the disturbingly visible latrine that she was certain had once been sheen, the iron bars, even the abrasive-looking blanket—were all variegated tones of the same pallid hue: prison gray. She shuddered. Infuriated by being treated like a common criminal, she cursed under her breath again. Damn that fucking little dyke—it was all her fault Diane would be forced to sleep in this hellhole for the night.
And then she heard a noise—the sound of that man's voice asking if she was certain she was all right. Annoyed, she glanced over at the stranger in the next cell. She recognized him instantly. His eyes held compassion and concern; but all that she saw was opportunity. Spaulding, her ever-devious mind parroted. The Dragon Lady's ex-husband—father of that spoiled little brat, Emma. She had heard he was back in town. A Cheshire grin spread across her face. Oh, this was just simply way too perfect. She would make that pack of fucking dykes pay, if it was the last thing she ever did…
TBC… in Chapter 8.6: Reflections…