Inside the toilet cubicle, Gar focused on trying to pee. Irritably, he stared at the mustard yellow pants round his ankles.
Gar: I can't go with you looking!
Craig: Believe me, I'm not. I've seen everything before, unfortunately, and I'm not gonna look again unless I absolutely have to.
It continued.
Eventually they finished washing up, and returned to the break room to find Dick stretching on the floor. From his contorted pose he smiled. Vic was mesmerised by the performance, unable to fathom how anyone could fold themselves up like that.
"So... what's the plan for the day?" Gar asked, perfectly accustomed to the circus tricks performed by his friend.
"We're taking the ferry over to Gotham at 8pm, and then heading for the church..." Dick said with his feet either side of his head. "Then, I think we can go to yours? You have things to do, right?"
Dick was on about some routine blood tests and therapy visits. He shuddered at the thought of coming off the antidepressants again, but it would be better then becoming ultra manic.
At the other table, Eddie was furiously trying to finish the mask. It still needed painting, but was unmistakably Vic's face. "Man, I am totally rushing this. Don't blame me if it's wack! I'm, like, doing the best I can with the time limit! We can gets you all set up hopefully by, like, 6..." There was no reply. "Um. Vic?"
He hadn't noticed, and instead blankly stared at the table.
Deep inside Gar, something, or someone, could sense sadness that surrounded the teenager. "Say, can you two, um.. can you two give me and Vic a sec?"
Gracefully, Dick righted himself and nodded. Eddie looked at his tools and held in an irritated groan, but dutifully headed out into the hall with Dick.
Once the two were alone, Garfield positioned himself into Victor's line of sight.
"...What about my mom?" He finally said, not looking away.
Gar shuffled round and put a hand on his. "I've...I organised it... yesterday..."
"...Thanks..."
They sat for a bit.
"I guess the thought ball went and smashed into that sad button." Vic chuckled, meekly. "It's weird. For a moment I felt... Normal... Like I could just go home and everything would be fine..."
That was a familiar feeling for Garfield. He'd still have moments where he thought about his mom, Cliff and Larry, and would fleetingly get excited about showing them something. When he remembered they were gone, the joy drained out of him and left him feeling hollow and melancholy with a lump in his throat.
"How long does it take to get over it all?"
"You're, um, you're better off asking Dick and Eddie that... I, um... I'm still figuring it out... I don't really remember my birth parents; they died, like, 10 years ago... I think Dick's parents died that long ago, too... I...I don't actually know about Eddie's parents..." Gar chuckled. "Most people I know have... unusual relationships with their parent... Actually, speaking of, I, I go to some group therapy sessions about loss... You should come..."
"And where do stay? I could live my Grandparents... but..."
"Don't worry about that. There's a lot of space in my dad's house..."
"House?! You live in a mansion!"
"Yeah... It totally beats living in a cage.."
They stopped and thought about what just came out of their mouth.
Craig: Where did that come from?
Gar:...I thought that was you?
Craig: I know I'm sardonic, but... not that. Not that!
Gar: Was it David?
Craig: Not with that accent...
Gar:...So, someone else who we don't know... . How many people do I have living in my head?!
Craig: Do you really wonna know? I don't think some of them particularly pleasant, and I'm not just talking about myself...
"Um. Dude? Gar? Snap out of it... Guy from yesterday? Dog? Hello?"
"They're fine, Eddie. This happens when Gar's feeling spacey." Dick explained in between mouthfuls of cereal. "Just don't shout or break something or squeak a dog toy and they'll work it out. Here." He put The Rembrandts on and took a seat. "We just have to coax him to the front."
It was weird how it worked. In the lulled mind of the body it was easy to loose track of time. One quick step off the stage could last minutes, hours, days... years...
Several consciousness stirred in one head, each holding onto an important memory. A feeling or a thought, or even something as specific as a smell. Each one significant enough to create its own reality in which it could exist, without conflicting with the rest of the mind and it's many alters.
Through the haze, that wasn't quite comparable to dreaming, Garfield heard the music. It brightened up his senses until he was staring at his friends. He could never get used to zoning out like that; it was scary. Not knowing what your own body might have done whist you were away, or where you might be or who you might be with. Even so, there wasn't much he could do to stop it, so he had to accept that part of his life wouldn't be his own. Urg, therapy is going to be interesting...
"was I, um... Was I a dog?"
"No, you were just sat there. Vic freaked out and got us."
"Oh... I, um. I'm- I'm sorry... "
"Hay, don't apologise. You have things going on, and I keep bringing them into conversations... I should be the one apologising..."
"No, no. No, I'm the one who-"
"Dudes!" Eddie interjected. "Just. You're both going through some totally wack shit. But you gotsta go die in some cutty-ass church tonight, so it doesn't matter who needs to apologise."
A swell of resentment rose Vic, but subdued when he remembered what Gar had said about Eddies parents. He grumbled and picked up the cereal box, only to find it empty.
Dick's eyes widened as he looked at his own bowl. "Oh. Sorry..."
"Yeah. Dick's a cereal addict..." Explained Gar, reaching for the Scooby Snacks box and emptying several into his bowl before offering the box to Vic.
"No. Just- no."
Gar merely shrugged as he added milk, causing Vic to gag at the thought of warm, coconut flavoured dog biscuits.
Time blurred as they sat about waiting to leave for their mysterious adventure. Once Gar had concluded he was alone at the front of the head space, he proceeded to tidy up the break room and restock his jackets supplies. Dick stayed out of his way, choosing to flick through the demon book one last time and photograph anything of interest. Amongst the bus tickets and receipts used as book marks was a folded piece of paper with 'Gar' scrawled on it. As Dick opened it up he recognised straight away what it was.
Under the fancy header of the hotel not-pad page was his fat, disjointed writing. 'What do you want?'
It read in blue ball point pen.
Below it, taking up the rest of the page, was a single, scrawled word...
'Help'
thank you all so much for being so patient !
wonna know what people think will happen. :)
we're in the snowy, cold part of winter now in the UK and it is draining me! add lock down into the mix and it's a perfect set up for a case of the morbs (feeling sad and dejected, but it's not depression.) I can't wait to spring clean. also got myself into some animating projects... animation takes a long time...
