The car. The car. Where had he parked the damn car?
It shouldn't be that difficult to find his car. The departure of most vehicles, including one red BMW, meant there weren't many vehicles to search through.
He just couldn't concentrate to relocate it.
He wanted to scream. Pound something. Smash a windshield; okay, he wouldn't even let his thoughts drift that far.
There she was.
His beautiful Speedster, still carrying Brenda's scent from the other night.
Dylan took refuge in the steering wheel, releasing his muffled frustration until he felt calm enough to start driving.
The old Kelly had known just as well as he that their relationship hadn't done any favors for either of them. Kelly had been miserable; she had made that clear even before she had accused Dylan of calling out Brenda's name in bed. Her misery had only increased, particularly with hearing of Brandon's engagement and then marriage.
If Kelly could have done it all again, he had once heard her telling her younger sister Erin, then she would have chosen Brandon from the start.
But that was the old Kelly, the one who was lifelong best friends with Donna, the one Dylan had chosen over Brenda, the one Steve continued to worship even after marriage to Janet.
The one Brandon had been hopelessly in love with to the point that he had nearly married her.
Now that none of them had sided with Kelly, had it flipped something in her personality? Who was Zosha Blake? What had Kelly done to her?
And what the fuck was Anteros up to, sending Kelly memories of her past? Was Anteros trying to destroy Kelly's future, as Anteros was trying to destroy Dylan's? Why?
He summoned the other Dylans to inquire whether any of them had known a Kelly, or a Kelly type.
The Dylans who answered him could not say they had, though as the Dylans of the Middle Ages, Ancient Greece, Ireland, and perhaps other eras once more failed to respond, Dylan could not extract a complete answer.
It helped that Itero had pointed out that Dylan's past with Kelly had been nothing more than a falsity brought on by a crock hypnotherapist.
Anteros was playing dirty, and Dylan couldn't figure out what Anteros hoped to accomplish by letting Kelly in on the secret of the past.
It wouldn't change anything. Dylan wouldn't suddenly turn to Kelly just because she knew that he had chosen the sugar cookie with the yellow frosting.
Even though the blue had tasted far better.
Dylan drove at a slower pace than he usually did, waiting for Itero to tell him his standing there as Kelly kissed his cheek counted as making a move on one of the blondes.
He hadn't asked for it. He hadn't wanted it.
But he hadn't been able to stop it when he had been stunned into acceptance.
He clutched onto the steering wheel, convinced he was about to lose it all. Convinced he would return to a life where Brenda would begin raising a family with Monaghan. Convinced their second chance - third chance, really - had ended.
All because Kelly Taylor had kissed his cheek, right after he and Brenda had discussed continuing their relationship.
Dylan couldn't have felt more relieved to roll up the Walsh's driveway and jog towards the front door.
He had pursued Kelly whilst Brenda was in Paris. He knew that. He knew also that when it had come to the Bermuda Triangle, he had been far from innocent. Kelly could have stopped their entanglement before it began, and Dylan could have never allowed that entanglement to happen in the first place.
But they had. They had both been at fault. Dylan had paid for it by losing Brenda until London. Kelly had paid for it by the gradual demolition of her friendship with Brenda.
Was Dylan to now be pursued by Kelly as punishment?
The last place he felt like going was to Steve's party. Dylan knew that if he didn't show up and Scott did, then it would be like he let Scott down. Dylan had been let down many a time. He had let people down himself, far too many times.
He wouldn't do that to Scott.
"What happened?" asked Brenda the moment she opened the door. "You look like you had a run-in with the supernatural."
"You could say that," said Dylan, burying his face in her neck.
He would never get enough of her scent. The fragrance alone settled his mind and trampled his anxiety.
"Should we stay in?" she asked, drawing her hand down his back. "I can call Steve and tell him something's come up."
"We need to at least put in an appearance," said Dylan.
"I didn't think you were one for putting in appearances."
"Usually. This is a special case. But Bren; I, uh, I need to tell you something." Dylan released her only slightly, keeping his arm around her shoulder.
"It sounds important," she said. Worry marred her carefully done makeup.
"It is. It's about Kelly."
"Kelly?" Brenda moseyed towards the living room. Dylan never once withdrew his arms from her.
Taking a seat on the familiar comfort of the Walsh family sofa, Dylan pulled Brenda onto his lap.
"What about Kelly?" Brenda curled her feet around his waist.
"She kissed me," said Dylan. "On the cheek, at the Y, after the kids were gone. I didn't invite it. I didn't do anything to initiate it. I don't have a friggin' clue why she did it because she seems pretty hung up on your brother and she knows how I feel about you. In the event she had something in mind to hurt you, I wanted to tell you right away."
"I did wonder why your cheek is darker than normal." The back of Brenda's hand grazed against the spot where Kelly's lipstick must have still been noticeable. "Toward the end of the women's conference -"
"Sleepover," said Dylan.
"Women's conference," repeated Brenda, "Kel said she would never try to steal you from me - not that you can be stolen, exactly. I guess that only applies when we're friends. I don't want Kelly to drag you into all of this." Brenda circled her arms around his neck. "Would it help if I became her friend again? She might not try to make a move on you if I'm still her friend. I could talk to her for you."
Dylan rubbed his hands down her arms.
"Brenda, Kelly's pissed as hell that you and Val allegedly took Donna from her. I don't think that would help at all; in fact, I think it would just make it worse. I appreciate the sentiment, but that isn't the way to go. I'd never ask you to put yourself in that position."
"She thinks Val and I took Donna from her? Did Kelly not hear the words that came out of her own mouth in the cabin? Why would Donna ever want to stay friends with her after that?"
"I don't know what goes through Kelly's head half of the time. She wants Brandon, then she wants me, then she's threatening to make life miserable for any girl who dates Steve. I'm pretty sure Kelly doesn't even know what she wants."
"She's planning to make life miserable for Steve's next girlfriend?"
"And Brandon's."
"But what if Brandon's next girlfriend is Donna?" asked Brenda. "Kelly wouldn't hurt Donna, would she?"
"At this point, Bren, I'm starting to become concerned that Kelly will hurt you."
"I don't believe it, Dylan. Yeah, I'm mad at Kelly, and yeah, I have no desire to be her friend, but I don't think she would do that."
"It might not be her choice," Dylan muttered.
"What?" asked Brenda.
Fuck, that was not supposed to be said out loud.
"I just mean Kelly's been through a lot," he said. "When you've gone through a lot; your mind, it starts telling you things."
Yeah, that's not even close to what I meant.
I know that, but Brenda can't know that I'm wondering if Anteros is going to persuade Kelly into doing something Kelly wouldn't normally do.
Possessed by Anteros? Is that a thing?
"With everything you've gone through, does your mind tell you things?" asked Brenda.
"All the time," he said.
"Can I do anything to help calm it?"
"Breathing in your scent always works." Dylan surprised himself at how unabashedly he had announced that fact that he had never shared with her before.
"Why is that?" she asked.
"I don't know," he said. "I think it's because you smell like home."
"I smell like your father's unwarranted disappointment in you and your mom not being around?"
"Not that kind of home, Bren. The home we'll make together. You smell like my future."
"Well, you always smell like the beach, like sand and surf, and I guess in a way, that's my home, too."
"We could have one," said Dylan, nuzzling her neck. "A home on the beach, someday. Go surfing whenever we feel like."
"We can't really have a home on the beach if we're going to move to London or Glasgow."
"No one ever said we can't have two homes."
"Should we tell Donna?" asked Brenda.
"About us having two homes?"
"No. About Kelly claiming she'll make life miserable for anyone who dates my brother. I mean, it's pretty obvious Donna wants to."
"We can let it go, for now," said Dylan. "We'll keep an eye on Kelly and if Donna gets any closer to being with Brando, then we'll tell them both. We'll tell Steve, too."
"Poor Steve," said Brenda. "He really loves Kelly, but he really cares about Donna. I can't believe Kelly's going to put him in that position."
"I almost wish Stacey had started dating your brother," said Dylan. "Stacey can handle Kelly. Donna -"
"Donna would rescue a moose she found stranded on the side of the road, even if it tried to gnaw at her leg," said Brenda. "Kelly knows exactly how Donna is and if it comes to it, would Kelly use that to her advantage? God, Dylan, what have I done?"
Dylan blinked rapidly. "Done? Bren, you haven't done anything."
"If I hadn't yelled at Kelly -"
"Brenda, Kelly blames you and Val for the simple fact that Donna didn't want to hear Kelly complaining about you and Val, okay? If anything, Kelly's more mad at Val for sharing what you told her."
"Okay, but if I hadn't told Val any of that stuff -"
"Then you would've kept it all bottled up inside and that's no good, either. There was no point in Val keeping it to herself because she was right. Yeah, you didn't have to borrow Brandon's car -"
"Steal," said Brenda. "I stole his car."
"You sound like Val."
"I guess that's why she and I are so close."
"- but Kelly didn't have to pull the whole she'll-be-your-best-friend shit if you do. Baby, when you and Brandon went after Donna, Kelly told me to my face that she thinks you've been trying to steal her life."
"What?" Brenda became ashen. "How have I done that?"
"That's the thing. You haven't. Most of us have started moving on from Kelly and she can't take it, so she blames you. And now she found a reason to blame Val. It has nothing to do with either of you. Kelly has problems."
"That's the same thing you said about Sheryl."
"Sheryl definitely had problems," said Dylan.
"See, you say things like Kelly has problems, and it just makes me want to help her, Dylan. She's had an extremely tough life."
"You can't help everyone, Bren. You told Bran and I that Felice has been disparaging her daughter for years. What makes Kelly's situation any different than Donna's? That Jackie's an alcoholic? That she's taken comfort in drugs? I get Kelly's problems. I absolutely get them. Thing is, Jackie admitted she needs help and went into rehab to get it. What has Felice done? You'd think Donna would act out herself, yet she's one of the sweetest people we know."
"You have a point, but I can't help how I feel. Kel's struggling. I automatically feel inclined to make it right somehow."
"And that's why I love you, Bren, but please, for me, don't ever be alone with Kelly."
"We might have classes together."
"Then I'll meet you in-between class."
"What if you're on the other side of the school? It doesn't make any sense for you to go running every time I finish a class with her. You'll be late to your own classes."
"Then I'll get Brandon to do it. Or David. Maybe Steve."
"Seriously, Dylan. I don't need a chaperone. I'll be fine."
"We'll table this for now, but if I hear even a whisper of a rumor from the grapevine that Kelly's up to something, then we're revisiting this discussion."
"I'll accept that," said Brenda. "So guess I'll call Steve to make our apologies?"
"Nah," said Dylan. "We'll go. But I need us to do something first."
He watched as Brenda washed his cheek with warm water and soap, erasing any remnants of Kelly's lipstick.
Once Brenda had towel-dried his cheek, Dylan gave a coy smile and asked for the second part of his request.
About three-and-a-half cheek kisses later, he was satisfied that Brenda's crimson lipstick had wiped away the memory of Kelly's.
"I gave you plenty of opportunities to date someone else," said Brenda. "Even Kelly, if you wanted to. When you decided to be with me again, you chose to give up cheek kisses and every other kiss from any other girl. So Kelly can't have this cheek, 'cause it's mine."
Dylan had half a mind to jump up to a flagpole and sing about Brenda claiming him as hers after such a long-ass time of being apart.
"It is yours," said Dylan, boasting to the Connor Monaghan of his mind that this Brenda would never be a Monaghan. Dylan gloated to the mental Ernesto Manzano that Brenda might never meet him. He told the mental Stuart Carson that Brenda would avoid Stuart when Dylan ensured Brenda knew precisely who Stuart was. As an extra precaution, Dylan told the mental Rick to stay the hell out of Paris.
"This cheek is yours," said Dylan, "these arms are yours, my shoulders are yours, my neck is yours, this butt is -"
"Your bike! I said I liked your bike!"
"Butt and bike are two completely different words with two completely different sounds."
"Oh, whatever. Let's go."
"On my bike?"
"In your car. Do you even have your bike?"
"No, but the more I put it into your head, the more likely I'll be to get you to ride with me."
"Thanks for adding the 'with' part."
"I mean, if you want to ride -"
"My God, you are impossible."
Dylan couldn't remember the last time he had been to the Sanders mansion, or if he had ever been to the Sanders mansion. It was grander than the home Steve would share with Madeline and occasionally Janet. Steve's Corvette was parked in the driveway, a sight to behold after Steve had made them all attend a funeral for his car when it had sputtered to its death around the mid-zeroes.
Dylan spotted Brandon's Mustang parked against the curb, prompting Dylan's gratitude to not yet see Kelly's BMW.
"I wonder whose car that is." Brenda pointed at the only car besides Brandon's that may have been purchased in a used car lot.
"Someone who must not care about status," said Dylan.
"Says the guy driving around in a sleek Porsche and often calls said Porsche his baby."
"Hey, Baby Dos has nothing to do with status."
"Pretty sure having a Porsche has everything to do with status."
"Okay, it probably does, but in my case, it's just a great car."
"So when we go shopping for your second car, it's gonna be another Porsche?"
"Not unless Porsche starts making a four-seater," said Dylan, well aware that it would be decades before Porsche announced its creation of a four-door.
"Should we go in together?" asked Brenda. "Or I go in first and then you go in?"
"Together," said Dylan. "We more or less are, even if we're giving it some time 'til it's official. And call me selfish or even the dreaded possessive, but I'd like Dustin Hendricks to know that he doesn't have a shot with you."
"Did Dustin Hendricks even want a shot with me?"
"You didn't notice how he was looking at you during water polo?"
"I was more focused on the ball. If you were looking at Dustin looking at me instead of looking at the ball, it's no wonder your team lost."
"Oh, you're such a comedian." Dylan nipped at her nose. "Gonna get your own show on a streaming service."
"What's a streaming service?"
"Uh, it's something they have in Australia, I think."
"Oh."
Dylan was saved from further faux explanation by the door being thrown wide open and Steve hollering at them to hurry inside before the leaves fell.
"Leaves fall around here?" asked Brandon, handing Dylan a bottle of Coke.
"Damn, Walsh," slurred Steve. "You gotta get out of the city more, my man."
"Sanders, how many of those have you had to drink?" Dylan aimed his pinkie finger towards the infamous mucho marvelous mango margarita in Steve's hand.
"Well, someone keeps flirting with other guys in front of me, so sorry if I wanted a little drink to cope while neither of my parents are around," said Steve.
"A little?" asked Brandon, who told them of Samantha's last-minute flight to an audition which Steve had taken as an opening to secure liquor for his party. "That's your third one since the party started. I can't judge after my DWI, but it's also because of my DWI that I'm telling you to slow down, brother. You go for a fourth and I will toss your entire concoction down the sink."
"Don't you dare," said Steve. "That's important merchandise."
"Who's flirting with people in front of him?" asked Brenda, trying to steady Steve's wobbling figure.
"Kelly," said Brandon.
"I thought Kelly wasn't here," said Dylan, instantly on his guard.
"Her car isn't," said Brandon. "She caught a ride with, uh, Tiffany, I think."
"She's talking to Tiffany again?" asked Brenda.
"Or is it Cathy? Brittany? Ruby? I don't know; some girl whose name ends in 'y' and giggles every other word."
"I hope it's not Ruby Andrews," said Brenda. "Kelly said she stopped being friends with Ruby after Ruby made fun of Donna's hair during their sixth grade field trip. I should go over there."
"Bren," said Dylan.
"But Dyl -"
"Brenda -"
"Bren, there you are." Donna tucked her hand through the crook of Brenda's arm. "Thought you'd decided not to come."
"It did cross my mind," said Brenda. "Kel's hanging out with Ruby Andrews?"
"Honestly, I've spent most of the night talking to Andrea and Robinson's sister. I don't even know what Kelly's been doing."
Probably announcing to every blabbermouth in the school that I chose her.
Will any of them believe her? Will Brenda?
Should I tell Brenda?
How can I tell Brenda when neither of them have asked me that fucking ultimatum to begin with?
"Wanna dance, Bren?" Dylan tried to get his focus off of his nagging thoughts and onto the girl standing directly in front of him.
"Dylan, if Kelly's a loose cannon, I really think I should go over -"
"Brenda, I say this as your friend and as someone who thought of Kelly as a sister for a really long time." Donna grasped Brenda's shoulders. "If Kelly's acting out, no one can stop her. The only thing that would stop her is if she gets what she wants. What does she want?"
"Brandon," said Brenda.
"Okay." Donna angled towards Brandon. "Bran, do you want Kelly?"
"After the way she talked to my sister and to you? No thanks," said Brandon.
"That's out," said Donna.
"Dylan," said Brenda. "Kelly wants Dylan, too."
"Dylan," said Donna, "do you -"
"Hell no," said Dylan, pulling Brenda against him.
"See?" said Donna. "Kelly can't get what she wants, and until she does, she can't be helped."
"I just don't know how it's come to this," said Brenda. "The three of us were only just hanging out looking at magazines and giggling over the hot models a couple of months ago."
Dylan decided it was neither the time nor the place to become bothered about Brenda giggling over so-called hot models.
"A couple of months ago, before Kelly called me stupid - not for the first time - and you stood up to her, Brenda," said Donna. "No one's ever stood up to Kelly before. When you did it again a second time, something inside Kel must've snapped."
"Seriously?" asked Brenda. "No one's ever stood up to Kelly before?"
"Well," said Donna, "Zosha did years ago, but -" Donna's own mouth dropped open. Her face contorted in a sorrow she tried to push down with the bite of her lip, the movement closely eyed by Brandon.
Damn, if Donna's husband Silver could see this now, thought Dylan.
He wondered if it would have pissed David off more than it did Dylan when he found out his little sister had drunkenly hooked up with Noah Hunter. Dylan had slept with Noah's sister Rene as payback and to drive out the headlines he had seen of Brenda's speculated relationship.
One of the replacement brunettes, with brown eyes like Gina's.
The two men had exchanged harsh words. Dylan pointed out that Noah had brought it on himself by fucking Erica. Noah said he didn't want an alcoholic involved with his sister. Dylan said that was the pot calling the kettle intoxicated, especially as Noah had plowed himself with drink before inserting himself in Erica. Noah called Dylan out for using Rene the way Noah said Dylan had used Gina, which Noah correctly assumed had nothing to do with Kelly.
The former co-owners of the After Dark hadn't talked to each other since. Last Dylan had heard, Noah had left LA for a job in his old stomping ground of Hawaii and had dropped contact with everyone except Donna.
Dylan didn't mind one bit if he never saw Noah Hunter again.
"God," said Donna, hurling Dylan back to the present, "I haven't thought of Zosha in so long."
"Zosha?" he asked. "Zosha Blake?"
"Yeah," Donna sniffled. "You remember her?"
"No," said Dylan. "Did Kelly, uh, do something to her?"
"I don't know." Donna lost her battle, causing Brenda to wrap her arms around her friend and Dylan to grudgingly separate from his girl. "Zosha just left town one day without saying anything to anybody." Donna's fear became apparent. "Bren, you're not gonna leave town without saying anything to anybody, are you?"
"Are you kidding?" said Brandon before Brenda could respond. "She does that and I'll send every police unit in the country out looking for her."
"And Bren wouldn't go anywhere without me," said Dylan, "so I'd be able to tell you both where she was."
"Well, I would go some places without you," teased Brenda in an obvious attempt to lighten the conversation. "Seriously, Steve, you've got to stay away from your mucho marvelous mango margaritas," she frowned as Steve nearly crashed into his staircase.
"My ex-girlfriend wants my two best friends," said Steve. "How exactly am I supposed to deal with that, Brenda?" He looked bleary-eyed at Dylan. "We're friends, right, McKay?"
"Sure, Steve," said Dylan. "We're friends."
"Good." Steve nodded repeatedly. "'Cause we haven't hung out this much in a really long time - or at all," he blubbered, "and it's thanks to the Walsh twins."
"He's right," said Dylan. "Steve and I haven't been this close since - when, Steve?"
"Fourth, I think," said Steve. "There was one point where I thought I'd started to annoy you."
He wasn't wrong. Steve had often irritated Dylan in their adolescence and in their early adulthood.
But that was before Dylan had seen the man Steve Sanders would become.
There was no reason the younger Steve Sanders couldn't start maturing sooner than he had initially.
"Fourth," confirmed Dylan. "Bren, Walshes don't tear friendships apart, okay? They help strengthen them."
"Then I guess we should go dance," said Brenda.
"Should I be hurt at how reluctant you sound?" asked Dylan.
"Zip your trap and dance with me," said Brenda.
"Much better," smiled Dylan into her hair. "Although I think you'd prefer if I unzipped -"
Brenda issued a loud, overexaggerated sigh.
"I don't know why I put up with this guy."
"Probably because you're moonstruck over him, Bren," said Brandon.
"So much for twin loyalty," said Brenda.
Donna said that she and Brandon would stay with Steve. Brenda asked Donna if she would also like to dance; most likely as a hint at Brandon, who glanced towards the crowd and feigned his ignorance. Donna told them the new shoes she had worn to the party were killing her and, as such, she would be better off not dancing.
Brenda and Dylan both thought that was a lame excuse at making Brandon feel more comfortable, which they told only to each other.
Dylan pointed out Dustin Hendricks' grumpy look in their direction.
"You're taking a lot of pleasure in Dustin's pain," said Brenda.
"I'm taking a lot of pleasure in a lotta guys' pain," said Dylan, pointing out the other guys who all had crushes on Brenda and whose faces matched Dustin's. "They really thought they had a chance with my Bren."
"I guess they assumed us breaking up meant I was open for business," said Brenda.
"I'm not sure how to take you referring to yourself in diner talk."
"I mean, Dylan, there were months between me moving here and us dating. Any of them could've asked me out then, before you did."
"I think they were all intimidated about asking out Brandon Walsh's sister."
"I'm glad you weren't."
"I'm also glad I wasn't."
"Even though you prefer blondes."
"Let's not even go there," said Dylan.
It was easy to pretend that in the mansion full of loud, drunken teenagers, it was only them dancing in the middle of the room. They managed to tune it all out until they found themselves slow dancing to a fast beat, or dancing quickly to a slow rhythm.
"I'm really glad I finally found someone who can keep up with me on the dance floor," Brenda spoke against Dylan's collar, "but we should probably stop at some point before I drop from exhaustion."
"I'd just carry you home."
"You'd carry me to my parents' house," she corrected.
Dylan pulled back to grin at her. "Yeah, I'd carry you to your parents' house," he echoed. "Think we've put in enough of an appearance? We can stop by the Pit and say hi to Nat before I bring you home."
"Let me use the bathroom first and then we can go," she said, kissing both of his cheeks. "That's in case Kelly comes by."
"And here I thought you were practicing for our Paris trip."
"Well, maybe a little of that, too." Brenda flashed him the most enchanting smile Dylan swore he had ever encountered before darting up the stairs.
He spotted David chatting with Robinson, who introduced Dylan to his older sister Sherice. It was almost a relief for Dylan when the girl who could undoubtedly give Kelly Taylor a run for her role as West Beverly's fashionista said a quick hello without looking twice at him and then engaged in intellectual conversation with Andrea.
The break in discussion gave Dylan a chance to pull David aside.
"Silver, is there anything going on with Val that me and her siblings should know?" he asked. "You don't have to give specifics."
David's cheer dissipated. "Put it this way," he said. "Valerie Malone and I have a lot in common when it comes to our parents. I mean, a lot."
"Your dad?" asked Dylan.
"No," said David, "my mom. But my mom isn't half as bad as; well, I can't tell you because I promised I wouldn't say anything unless it becomes crucial for me to tattle. Val wouldn't've said anything if she hadn't heard how my mom gets. I just hope Val decides to move out here."
Dylan resolved to be a pesky bumblebee in Valerie's ear over the phone until she did agree to move to Los Angeles.
He'd known from his conversations with her in the past that her father had suffered from a depression Valerie feared she had inherited. The way David Silver talked, however, it sounded like Dylan hadn't known the full story.
"She met your mom?" he asked.
"More like Val was around when Dad mentioned that Mom - sorry, I don't know what I'm doing, telling you this."
"Silver, you can tell me anything and anything you tell me will stay between us."
David tilted his head, scrutinizing Dylan to likely gauge his honesty.
"Back porch?" he asked, nodding towards the screen door.
Dylan glanced up the stairs for Brenda. Upon seeing she had not yet returned, his eyes darted about for Kelly. When he was satisfied that Kelly was occupied in another room, Dylan followed David out the door.
"I told you my mom gets into this thing," said David, setting his elbows on the porch railing. "A few years back, she was diagnosed with something called bipolar. Have you heard of it?"
Instead of butting in to say that he had, Dylan remained silent and allowed David to continue speaking.
"Bipolar and a whole slew of other things, which I'm not even sure the doctors all know," said David. "Well, Mom had a pretty rough episode recently that caused Dad to cancel on a date with Jackie to go check on her, and that was the first day Val and I hung out to look at records. When I started to apologize to Val that I'd need to get going, she said she understood and that she could come with me. That's when she told me that things aren't so great over at her house, either."
"Just tell me this," said Dylan. "Should my twins ramp up their conversations with Val?"
"Yes," said David, and then abruptly changed the subject to discuss basketball.
Dylan said basketball was more of Steve's and Brandon's sport, but that he would happily talk baseball with David if that was something David found of interest.
Then, as if a Hollywood Bowl spotlight had blasted on to ignite the dusty crevices in Dylan's brain, he ran off to find Brandon.
He discovered Brandon in the kitchen, helping Donna to take care of Steve.
"Brandon, quick," said Dylan. "The Celtics; why does that sound familiar?"
"The Celtics?" asked Brandon.
"Basketball," said Donna.
Brandon looked stunned. "You know basketball?" he asked.
"Just a bit," said Donna. "My dad loves the game. That and golf, and baseball and football and cricket, tennis, badminton, rugby and; oh, I don't think there's one game Dad doesn't love. Or, used to love," she said, turning her gaze down into an empty solo cup sitting on the table.
"Loves," Brandon corrected. "They haven't said your dad won't wake up."
"They haven't said he will, either," said Donna. "And if he does, they said that might be worse than if he doesn't."
Dylan felt terrible for interrupting the sensitive moment, but couldn't help himself. "Basketball?" he asked.
"Yeah, basketball," said Brandon. "They beat us in '89. We got them back in '90, and then they defeated us again this year. Next year's our year; I can feel it. Go Timberwolves."
"Do you happen to know where the Celtics are from?" asked Dylan.
"Beantown," said Brandon. "Why?"
"Boston." Dylan gripped the edge of the table. "Thanks."
Celtics. Bruins. Dylan was quite convinced Kelly had never mentioned the Celtics before, and she had done so in the same afternoon Brandon had mentioned the Bruins.
What the fuck is happening? It's like the universe is trying to tell me something about Bren in Boston, and I don't have a fucking clue what any of this shit means.
Dammit, Brenda. I wish you and I could connect when we're awake, too.
Dylan's feet took on a mind of their own. Brandon and Donna's discussion over whether she would still consider emancipation if John Martin awoke faded into the background as Dylan raced out of the kitchen.
Buried by his reverie, Dylan didn't notice when he rammed the corner into a classmate who promptly began spouting Spanish curse words.
"Watch where you're going, McKay," said the boy in-between curses.
"For the record, I didn't intentionally run into you, Reina."
Emilio Reina appeared skeptical. "Look," he said, "if this is about Brenda, you don't have to say she turned me down. I know she did. We'll see if she still feels the same way about you closer to prom, but as long as Bren wants to be with you, then I'm not gonna stand in the way, okay? But I'm not going to stop being her friend either, McKay; not unless Bren says so."
"Glad you can do the decent thing," said Dylan. "Me running into you has nothing to do with you incorrectly thinking you could get Brenda to be yours, and I'm not about to ask Bren to stay away from you, or tell her that you guys can't be friends. My mind's just running a lot of different places right now."
Temporarily pushing his Boston query aside, Dylan realized that Emilio had known Kelly Taylor and Donna Martin for almost as long as Dylan had.
"Did you ever know a Zosha?" he asked.
"Zosha?" Reina's swallow looked painful. "As in, Zosha Blake?"
"Yeah, Zosha Blake. You did know her?"
"Knew her? Zosha and I were practically christened together."
"Christened together? In Colorado Springs?"
"Yeah, at our church there," said Reina. "The Blakes moving out here is actually what caused my family to move out here. My father and Zosha's father were in business together and my abuelito said they'd be able to expand the business if they took it westernside. Papá jumped at the opportunity. Next thing I know, we're all forced to move to California; which, by the way, I heavily disputed."
"Do you know what happened to Zosha?" asked Dylan, ignoring Emilio's unspoken gibe towards California.
"There were rumors," he said, "but nothing concrete."
"Rumors?"
"Rumors that Zosha and Kelly Taylor got into it, over Donna Martin. It's why I've never trusted Kelly; that and I've never been all that into blondes. I'm not saying all blondes are the same, but I've known too many catty ones who made my sister's life hell back in Colorado. I think Donna might be the first genuinely nice blonde I've met out here."
"Zosha wasn't a blonde?"
"You really don't remember Zosha?" asked Reina.
"I really don't," said Dylan, who became even more concerned when Emilio said that Zosha Blake had been a brunette.
Dylan knew Kelly's history with brunettes beyond Brenda. There was Valerie, an ongoing feud that had already kicked off years before it originally had. There was Gina Kincaid. Tiffany Morgan. Other brunettes Dylan may not have known.
Fuck, the entire goddamn triangle had boiled down to Dylan choosing between the blonde and the brunette.
Dylan recalled when Kelly once casually mentioned during their joint baby-sitting of Madeline that her parents' marriage had been blown apart by her father's decision to cheat with a brunette.
Did Kelly Taylor blame a brunette for splitting apart her parents? Did that lead to Kelly's own unfounded hatred of brunettes?
Janet was a brunette who had become one of Kelly's closest friends; but, at the same time, Janet had never questioned Kelly, had she?
Not like Val had. Gina had. Tiffany had. Zosha had.
And Brenda had.
Any brunette who had questioned Kelly had engaged in instantaneous war with Kelly, even back to that stupid spring dance dress that Dylan had thought looked its best off of Brenda.
"You think there's any truth to the rumors?" asked Dylan, who never took stock in gossip.
"Not sure," said Reina. "I've always thought it was unlike Zosha to ditch town, but I haven't been able to find anything pointing to Kelly being involved. I do know that if Kelly does get involved in dirty work, she's not the type to do it herself, if you catch my drift. You know what they say about groups of three."
"Three's a crowd; one always gets left out," recited Dylan, thinking over the disbanded trios he had known in the past.
"Well, Kelly, Donna, and Zosha were a tight trio," said Reina, "but rumor also has it that when Donna and Zosha became closer, Kelly didn't take it so well. It was obvious to me from the first week I met Kelly that she can be really nice and basically love bomb you, as long as she remains the center of attention. Positive attention."
Dylan had observed that aspect of Kelly's personality in the early years of their first relationship, but had assumed it was the result of their sordid start. He figured his unwillingness to release Brenda from his life had also been a factor.
Reina, however, had met Kelly in third grade when he had met Dylan and, at eight years old, the vacillation of Dylan in regards to the Californian Blonde and the Minnesotan Brunette living two thousand miles away wouldn't have been even a flicker of thought in Kelly's mind.
"Since Brenda's arrived," continued Reina, "Kelly's admirers have been gravitating toward Brenda. Take Nate Cantrell, for instance. Cantrell had a mad crush on Kelly in middle school. Used to tell the guys he was going to end up Mr. Kelly Taylor. Never once asked her out, claimed he was too shy. Brenda Walsh shows up and bam, suddenly Cantrell's lost all interest in Kelly."
That reminded Dylan of Cantrell's need for a matchmaker.
"I can't believe I'm about to ask you this," said Dylan. "Do you have any classes with Bren this semester?"
"I think we have a couple," said Reina. "Why?"
"Can you make sure Bren gets from Point A to Point B without running into Kelly?"
"You're asking me to make a move on your girl?"
"No," Dylan scowled. "I'm asking you to help move along my girl, from one class to the next. Don't even think about making a move on her, Reina."
"You worried Kelly's gonna do something to Brenda?"
"Kelly thinks she's lost everything to Brenda, including Donna."
"Wait," said Reina, "are Donna and Kelly not friends anymore?"
"Looks like," said Dylan.
Reina shouted out a few Spanish expressions of surprise before adding, "Damn, hombre, didn't think Donna had it in her. Kelly's never been too great at sharing her. Did you notice?"
"Guess I didn't." Dylan once more wondered how large his blind spot had been when it had come to Kelly Taylor.
"If Kelly thinks Brenda quote unquote stole Donna from her, then yeah, you better watch out for Brenda, and I'll do the same."
"You'll need to be discreet. Brenda isn't keen on the idea of a chaperone, and I'm not keen on the idea of her running into Kelly with just the two of them in the hallway."
"You know, back in the day, chaperones would've kept you guys apa -"
"Yeah, I don't think so, Reina. If I hear anyone say you tried to make a move on her -"
"You'll meet me outside. Got it, loud and clear."
Still not seeing Brenda in sight, Dylan took the stairs two at a time and started searching through the many rooms of Steve's house.
That might have been one of his worst ideas, for he interrupted quite a few couples in heavy liplock as he looked.
"Dylan?"
"Bren," he said, gathering her to him. "That was a lot longer than a quick bathroom break."
"Sorry," she said. "I found Scott," she added with a slight giggle.
"You're giggling over finding Scott?"
"No, I'm giggling over the way I found Scott."
"It's not that funny, Brenda," said the flustered Scott as he pointed to his shoes.
"Sorry, Scott," said Brenda. "You're about Dylan's shoe size, right? I bet we can find you another pair of shoes over at his place."
Dylan noticed the stains etched into shoes that may have been Scott's only pair.
"You puked on Scott's shoes?" he asked Brenda with concern.
"As if," she scoffed. "I haven't had one drink all night in solidarity with my sober boys."
"Then who -"
"It was Bonnie," said Brenda. "Bonnie Clayton, the girl from the cheerleading squad. She's in our year. You know her, right?"
Dylan vaguely remembered a Bonnie being in his history class.
"Is that the Bonnie who left school halfway through fall semester without explanation?" he asked.
"Yeah, her," said Brenda. "She was going through something, but I guess she's back."
Dylan thought it best to not pry of what exactly Bonnie had gone through. He could tell that Brenda knew simply by the guarded look in her eyes, and the way her voice had faltered for just a moment.
"Bonnie Clayton puked on Scott's shoes?" he inquired instead.
"And then asked Scott out when he cleaned the puke out of her hair," said Brenda. "Someone forgot to lock the bathroom door."
"A cheerleader pukes on your shoes and then asks you out? Damn, Scott, you may have game yet."
"Can I just get another pair of shoes, please?" asked Scott. "My mom's gonna kill me. She doesn't even know I'm here. Dad said Mom didn't have to know, but she'll know something if I show up with stained shoes."
"Bren and I were about to leave," said Dylan. "I'll see if we can borrow her brother's car."
Brandon decided that Brenda leaving meant his cue to also leave. Donna claimed the Mustang's passenger seat, with Scott sitting in the back. David declined, feeling that at least one of them ought to remain to watch Steve, and said he would ask for a ride back with Kelly's friend. Robinson offered that Sherice could take David home if Kelly chose to stay into the late hours. Torn between staying with Steve or going with Brandon, Andrea opted to remain at Steve's place for just a bit longer.
With that settled, Dylan drove Brenda back to his place to await the knock that would bring forth the others. True to his word, he kept most of his conversation with David concealed as he told Brenda their concern for Valerie was valid.
Horrified at the implication, Brenda said she would continuously pester Valerie until she shared enough information to convince Jim and Cindy into insisting Valerie move in with the Walshes.
Dylan wondered if he would be able to find out more on Valerie's exact situation in another dream with the other Brenda, though instantly forgetting Brenda's words wouldn't help Val one iota.
"How was the party, kids?" called out Nat.
"Lame," said Dylan, looking to Brenda for her confirmation.
"Well, it wasn't that lame," she said. "Would've probably been better if we'd gone into the pool, but either way, it was nothing to write home about."
"Steve's gonna need your special hangover potion tomorrow, Nat."
Brenda sent a quizzical glance in Dylan's direction.
"Oh yeah," said Dylan, "Nat's got one of those."
"Used to use it all the time on this kid," said Nat. His voice drew closer. "Dylan got into several doozies. My motto is don't condone it, but don't make the suffering worse than it is."
A suncatcher hanging from the window caught Dylan's eye. "Hey, Nat? Since when are you into suncatchers?"
"Since it was a gift from a friend," said Nat.
"Only the best for my Nathaniel Bussichio," said a voice that carried quite a bit more trill than did most voices of the Beverly Hills born-and-raised. "Hello, Dylan."
"Mom," said a gaping Dylan. "I thought you weren't coming until October."
"That was the plan," said an Iris McKay bearing auburn hair years away from the shock of white she had carried in the future. Her neck was littered with jewels, both of the wealthier variety and pieces that were surely picked up in an affordable vintage boutique. "But as you know, darling, plans do change. The start to your junior year approaches and I didn't see any reason why I should not celebrate this achievement." She directed a once-over at Brenda. "You must be Brenda."
"Pleasure to meet you, Mrs. McKay," said Brenda politely, though Dylan didn't miss the tick of tension in her shoulders.
"Mrs. McKay was my dear, unfortunately departed mother-in-law, a natural chef and world-class baker," said Iris. "As I myself have little to no talent in the kitchen and cannot begin to live up to her in any regard, you may call me Iris."
"Iris," said Brenda, her voice unsure.
"Bren," said Dylan, eyes trained on his mother, "do you mind -"
"Taking Nat outside to wait for the others? No, not at all."
He turned to look at Brenda. "I love you."
"I've lost count of how many times you've said that this week," she said with her brilliant smile that made his insides quake every fucking time.
"Good," he said. "I'll say it a hundred thousand times more."
She laughed, went into Dylan's room to dig out a pair of old sneakers that hardly appeared worn, and then asked Nat to join her outside for a discussion of sporadically reintroducing Laverne to the Pit.
The perhaps overly giddy Nat practically ran out of the door as Dylan tugged Brenda to him for a quick peck to her ear before they were separated.
"Now then." Iris seated herself upon Nat's futon. "What is going on?"
"What do you mean?" Rifling through that day's mail which had been placed on the stand beside the door, Dylan pocketed utility bills to sneak in payments without Nat's knowledge.
"My dear, you have not been this happy to see me since you were five and I brought home your birthday pie. That aside, are you aware of the last time you called me Mom?"
"Yeah, when we talked on the phone back in June."
"Before that, Dylan."
"Idunno," said Dylan. "A while ago, I guess."
"A long while," said Iris. "Back when you were still suffering from those dreadful earaches." Her gaze pierced into him until Dylan felt certain she had acquired a front-row seat to his every life. "It arose suspicion."
He asked why Iris hadn't come sooner if she had been suspicious. Iris replied that she had only recently returned from a spiritual retreat in the Alps, which she thought Dylan would do well to partake in himself.
Dylan tried to not think of the countries along the Alps, as that would only lead to his persistent query on what Vienna meant for him and Brenda.
Boston, Dylan knew he had visited by himself. Vienna, he knew only as the capital known for birthing some of the world's best-known musicians.
He didn't think he had once been to Vienna, though he supposed he could have been wasted for most of the trip.
"You have always been an old soul," said Iris, "even before you were born when the only craving I had was for a nice tiramisu from La Dolce Vita. Is that still around?"
"La Dolce Vita?" asked Dylan. "Yes, I think so."
"Wonderful," she said. "You ought to take Brenda there. They had the most divine pastries and Riccardo offered the tastiest of Italian cream sodas, though it is but a fraction of the selection they offer in Italy. There was a gentleman there, a regular who would read that Byron fellow aloud every day. It got quite irksome, but by your kicks, I could tell you enjoyed it much more than I did." A wave of Iris' hand brought with it the sound of clanging bracelets. "I digress. The point is, the boy I see in front of me is not a boy, but rather a man, isn't he?"
The boulder that had weighed down Dylan's shoulders for months lifted considerably. "You know?" The question came out just above a whisper.
"The universe is telling me you have travelled an awfully long way and, as you are merely a boy of sixteen standing in the city of your birth, that tells me that there is more to the story than meets the eye."
It was the first time Dylan held a genuine appreciation for his mother's alleged gifts.
"Oh Mom." He collapsed on the futon beside her, nearly in tears from his joy. "It feels so great to tell someone."
"You have been visited by the fairies," said Iris.
"How'd you know?" asked Dylan.
"The universe always knows," she said. "When you have been visited by a fairy, you carry an aura about you that only those truly in tune with nature can see."
"Bren's in tune with nature," he said.
"Then perhaps she suspects something as well, though this kind of knowledge can only be honed by careful study of one's surroundings. Your aura has a strength as such that I believe you are not from here, is that correct?"
"The future," said Dylan, drawing out a long breath. "I met a fairy in the twenty-first century and was able to become sixteen again. Sounds crazy, doesn't it?"
"I am certain it would sound bizarre to anyone else," said Iris, "but not to I. Returning to one's adolescence is not typically a request for the fairies. What brought this about?"
Then Dylan filled Iris in on everything, everything he couldn't tell Brenda. Everything he desperately wanted to tell her.
He told Iris of the visions he shared with the younger Brenda, the lives in which they had been together and the ones he knew of where they had been driven apart. He told her of his dreams with his old Brenda, how he never remembered their conversations when he awoke.
Dylan told Iris it all, but he left out the part of Anteros, for he did not want to drag his mother into whatever issue Anteros had with him.
"You are having difficulty remembering your dreams?" asked Iris.
"Extreme difficulty," said Dylan. "It's friggin' annoying, actually, because I just know Bren keeps trying to tell me something important. Not just that, but I think I've been figuring out things as I talk to her and when I wake up, I've got nothing. It's like we didn't speak at all, but I remember that we did. I just can't remember what we say."
"In your former life," said Iris, "did Brenda and I get along?"
"Not at first," said Dylan with a wistful air. "You thought our star signs clashed, or whatever. But you came to respect Brenda and yes, you did get along; in fact, you quickly grew to love her. I never heard the end of it from you after our London breakup."
"Marvelous. I rarely make a good first impression. It is nice to know we can skip the uncomfortable first meeting between a mother and, I assume, her future daughter-in-law?"
"You assume correctly," said Dylan. "I'll cross every galaxy I need to to keep Brenda in my life this time. If she marries, if she has kids, it's gonna be with me. We've done the whole forever separated shit and it ain't happening again."
"Then I will do my best to become close with Brenda again," said Iris, "though these things cannot be forced. This Kelly; did I like her?"
"I don't think you ever did. It annoyed me at first, but I understood it later on. Kelly and I weren't right for each other. You picked up on that a lot sooner than I did. Would've saved a whole lot of people a whole lot of hurt if it hadn't taken Kelly and I so long to accept it." Dylan pinched at a bit of futon, sliding the fabric through his fingers. "Should I tell her?"
"Brenda?"
"Yeah, Brenda. Should I tell Bren about all the stuff that happened with Kelly? Now that it's only a matter of time until Kelly tells her."
"That, sweetheart, is up to you. I do caution you that telling Brenda of your past actions that have not occurred in this life whilst the relationship is still fresh may stunt its growth."
"That's what I'm afraid of. But if I don't tell her, then I feel like I'm lying to her, and that's not something I want to do this time. Instead of telling her about K2 and what I saw happ -" no, Dylan wouldn't even tell his mother about the horrors of his K2 expedition, "anyway, I pretended it was a flash from a past Dylan. Bren asked how I knew she and her brother have this twin thing and I made up some excuse about Granddad McKay's twin brothers."
"Your father's father did have twin brothers."
"I know he did, but that's not the point, Mom. Lying broke us up, twice. I'm lying to Bren every day, and I hate it."
"You are, and you aren't. When you accepted the chance to do your mistakes over, Dylan, you effectively expunged them from the universe. Yes, they are still floating about and yes, the Brenda of the past or the Kelly of the present could inform this Brenda of your choices. However, your past decisions do not matter. Should it come to that, you and Brenda can work through her hurt and emerge with an impenetrable strength you may not have grasped before. The point is, the choices you make in this life; those are what matter. You would not have been given this opportunity otherwise. Do you believe you will choose to betray Brenda with Kelly again?"
"Not a chance in hell," said Dylan. "The love I have for Brenda is limitless. I'm not sure I ever really knew Kelly. Now I can't even stand her, let alone find it in me to like her. I'm questioning how we were ever drawn to each other, and I absolutely do not trust Kelly around Brenda."
"Then the attitude you have now is what matters," said Iris. "You are in for quite the fight, dear."
"I know," said Dylan. "Fighting for a few thousand lifetimes with Brenda, if not more."
"Are you prepared for this battle?"
"After the way things ended between me and Bren last time, after the things I did to her and the things I said; watching her with Monaghan, seeing the pictures of her belly growing with his kids, knowing that ring on her finger could've and should've been put there by me? Mom, fighting for our lifetimes together is only a sliver of how I can make it up to her, and reclaim the family that would've been mine if I hadn't been such an idiot. I don't know how Bren and I are gonna get our high school romance to be one of the rare ones that lasts, but we will. I'll find a way, no matter how long it takes."
"Age has greatly matured you," said Iris, "though I do believe I still look far too young to be the mother of a thirty-six-year old."
"Almost thirty-seven," Dylan reminded her.
"Sixteen it is," said Iris. "Please tell me I at least followed in my mother's footsteps and aged gracefully."
"How could you age as anything else?"
"Oh, you do flatter me." Iris pat his hand. "You said that in your dreams, you can see Brenda, but she cannot see you?"
"That's right," said Dylan, "and I'm pretty irritated by that, as well."
"Could it be due to the fact that one of you is in the past and the other is in the future? We can see our pasts in architecture, artifacts and other such items, but we cannot see our futures."
"Then shouldn't Bren be the one who can see me?" asked Dylan, not that he wanted to lose the view he had of Brenda.
Unable to answer, Iris proceeded to tell her son of the methods he could use that would perhaps help in the retaining of his dreams. Dylan wrote them all down, repeating them in his head as he swept the pen across the page.
The next time he dreamt of the other Brenda, he hoped, he would awaken and remember.
Until then, the two McKays allowed the others inside to finish up the summer with desserts and tall tales courtesy of Nat Bussichio.
Brenda raised herself from Dylan's lap only twice. The first, to offer help with the dishes, an offer that Nat refused, and the second, to return home with her brother and Donna.
"I can see why Brenda and I became friendly," said Iris. "She's a lovely young lady, Dylan."
"I'm glad you think so."
"I take it you know, then? About the reason I left?"
"I do," said Dylan, "and I forgive you. If anyone knows how Jack can get, it's me. I'm sure you did what you thought was best for me at the time, and I can put aside my own feelings on the situation to keep our relationship the way it had become. But can I ask you something?"
"Of course, darling."
"Can you break up my trust fund a little at a time when I turn eighteen? Bren and I wanna move to Europe - probably somewhere in the UK - and we'll need something to get us started, though hopefully the money we make in our jobs now will give us enough of a boost."
"That sounds reasonable enough, though what would ever give you cause to think your father and I would permit you your entire trust fund in one installment?"
"That," said Dylan with a wry grin into the mirror hanging by the front door, "is a story for another time."
-x
New BD video up at WISH UPON A DREAM on YT and wishuponamilliondreams on Insta.
Perhaps a little of both, Crystal.
Yes, I totally stole the line Brandon told Dylan about Stuart's dancing in the eighth episode of season four because we all know that was Dylan.
Scott is posing a dilemma. His death was a pivotal moment for David's character, which the writers have admitted was mainly due to budget cuts. A few of you have asked for Scott to be saved. I know at least one of you doesn't care one way or the other. So this week's question is if you would: prefer for Scott to be killed in the same way as he was in the series, killed in a different way, or killed not at all? (If you don't care, that's fine, too.)
Having never been to LA's La Dolce Vita, this is in no way an endorsement of LA's La Dolce Vita.
As always, thanks a million for the readership, reviews, follows, favourites, alerts, discourse, plot ideas, etc. Stay healthy and safe out there. x