By the time Maka stretched, her phone buzzed, Blake's text of arrival blaring across the screen. She hit the buzzer, opening the lower door as she waited for him to ascend. As was traditional for the millions of times he'd come over in their youth, she had left the front door unlocked, letting him enter in all his boisterousness. "You're actually on time," Maka muttered in greeting.
"See, if I had known you'd complain either way, I woulda just been late."
She rolled her eyes before motioning him into the foyer so she could sit against the wall. Lacing her sneakers became her main interest, especially as she could feel Blake's shit-eating grin trying to burn through her.
"So, you and Soul met before?"
"Briefly," she muttered. "Is his name really Soul?"
"Solomon." Blake snickered as the tips of his sneakers came into her view, coming closer so his hand could mess with her ponytail. "It's his nickname. Pretty sure he hates his entire name so the kids call him Mr. E and the rest of us go with Soul."
She swatted his hand before going to the other foot. "It was a nice party. Thanks for inviting me."
"That was the lamest thank you I've ever heard." He stepped back towards the door, examining the walls as if it wasn't a place he'd frequented throughout high school. "Especially since you were almost as much of a wallflower as Soul was. I mean, at least you learned everyone's name. Bet you've got all the lists filed in your brain– ready for September already."
A memory like a rolodex. "I think I'll have it all down by tomorrow– folders by the time we go back to school. Liz and Patty seemed extra nice–even gave me their phone numbers. I'm surprised that sisters work at the same school though."
Blake didn't offer an explanation whether he had one or not, just scuffed his sneakers along the rug. "You okay?"
Maka raised her head, time having run out on her excuse of staring at her sneakers. "I'm trying to be?"
Blake grimaced. "You're seein' mom's friend though, right?"
"Dr. Yumi." She stood, moving towards the door. There had been some hope in her that opening it, getting out into the hallway, and threatening the start to their jog would kill the conversation, but Blake always held on with white knuckles.
This time that fist was around her elbow, stopping her short. "Maks, maybe it's too much livin' with him again."
She shrugged, trying to use the momentum to dislodge him but finding that iron grip holding strong. "Just for a little bit. Then I'll get– I don't know. Something. Honestly, Blake, don't worry about it." The tender smile she tried to toss over her shoulder at him fell flat.
"You remember how it got after she left, right?" He growled, jaw tight.
"How could I forget?" Maka turned completely, offering a hand for him to snag with the waning angry force.
"Promise me that's not what's happenin' now."
She squeezed his hand, letting a blustery breath flutter through her lips. "It's not, but maybe it feels like it's worse than that…" A tight, harsh laugh filled the gap. "What if I'm becoming her? Just angry and alone."
"Last part's kinda insulting." Blake tugged her a step forward, keeping her eyes from drifting away. "You can be angry, but you're not alone. I'm still with you, and those people you met last night– they're all good people. That's why I bothered to get all of 'em together." He unraveled their fingers, using the free knuckle to prod her cheek playfully. "Just don't fuck it up."
The chair creaked under Soul's weight as he sat next to the older woman. Before Viv died, he'd honestly only seen her once–an unavoidable fixture at the wedding. At this point, he'd looked at Viv's picture and Layla's face enough to see the resemblance. Flora wore the same wavy, raven locks with those fine, lean features of a gothic heroine. "Hey, Flora."
The turn of the woman's head was slow, her eyes blinking as if there was too much light around him. "Wesley, isn't it?"
"Ah–" Soul choked on that, but didn't bother to shake his head. "Just sayin' hi. I heard you and Layla took a walk through the arboretum yesterday. Good day for it."
"Layla…?" Her hazy hazel eyes fluttered away towards the window. "If you're looking for Remy, he and Vivienne must have just left for school. If you try, you could catch them."
Soul nodded softly. "Yeah, sure, Flora. I'll go do that. You… you take care of yourself." Pins and needles stabbed at his legs even though his circulation was just fine. The steps themselves—away from her and away from the room that just smelled of sickness to him—seemed to make his muscles ache in a way exercise never did. He walked out into the hallway and shut the door gently, eyes falling on Melanie as she dutifully waited outside. "It's been a bad day?"
Melanie shook her head, locs dancing across her shoulders with the effort. "More like a bad week. I'm afraid it might turn into a bad month."
He flattened a hand over his face, heaving a breath behind the safety of his palm.
"Mr. Evans, if you don't mind me saying…"
His fingers drifted down just enough to lock eyes with her.
Her lips pursed for a moment before producing a smile. "Well, it's nice what you do– bringing Layla. That's all. You're a good father to that child."
"Thanks," he replied weakly, the smile that he uncovered even more flimsy. "You seen Remy lately?"
That brought a roll of those sienna eyes. "Now that you will mind me saying so maybe it's time for you and I to go our separate ways." She shooed him from the doorway, putting a hand on the knob. "Take care, Mr. Evans."
"You too." He dawdled, breathing in air that didn't seem half as stale while Melanie disappeared into the room. No matter how much he sucked in, his lungs still ached so he started his feet down the hallway to the kitchen. He could hear the soft shuffle of feet along with Julien's signature throat clearing.
He was a hunched man now, aged beyond his years with the loss of a daughter and his wife's mind with it. When he turned to see Soul standing in the doorway, he could still offer a smile though. "Tea, Solomon?"
"You got any coffee left?" Soul crumpled into one of the chairs at the breakfast nook table, leaning back so he could catch sight of Layla out in the backyard. A minute passed before a cup slid in front of him, and Julien joined him in the adjacent seat. "Thanks."
"Layla told me you were at a party last night."
"Uh, just a work thing." Soul tried out a shrug, but Julien's smile simply started to stretch towards a grin. "What?"
"Just good to hear," Julien replied before blowing steam off his own cup.
That settled like an air bubble in his throat, so he tried to saturate it with a sip of the bold brew that always came from Julien's expert hands.
"I was thinking"—Julien cleared his throat as his ancient nails tapped at the porcelain—"that Layla should come stay once a week, especially now during the summer. It doesn't have to be the night, but maybe Saturdays to give you some time to yourself."
Soul clenched his hand into the mug, thumbnail flicking at the rim as he stared at the dark liquid. "Isn't that a lot for you? Melanie was sayin' Flora's been tough lately and–"
"Layla's not a baby anymore. She's eight now—almost nine—so she does more than I do. Plus, it's been easier with Melanie here," Julien quickly changed Soul's trajectory. "I'm glad I took your advice, and I've asked her to stay full time."
"Oh, good." Soul nodded along but still felt the nerves clenching in his gut. "What about Remy?"
Julien displayed an apathetic hand. "He's here on and off. Busy with his doctorate." Soul frowned, but it only brought a chuckle from the older man. "He deals with things in his own way, Solomon."
Yeah, by runnin'. Soul wanted to roll his eyes but kept the motion in check. "I can talk to Layla. If she's OK with it, I guess, at least for the summer…" Why am I even hesitatin'? Julien has maybe five more good years with her, and Flora– who the hell knows. And what about me? Don't I want– need the time?
"Wonderful." Julien nodded with contentment before bringing his cup back up for a sip. "And what about your parents? Are they seeing Layla more?"
"They're still pretty busy," Soul grumbled. "And it's alright. I'm doin' fine and it's not like… I really don't need that much time to myself." The party flashed over the back of his mind– the failure in the kitchen making his stomach shrivel. Because if that's the way I use my time, Julien, I may as well give up. Flirtin'—if you'd even call my bumblin' that—with a girl only to disappear to call my kid? Yeah, a real fuckin' catch I am. Definitely put me back out on the market so–
Julien's tongue snapped, the smile starting to fade from his face. "How old are you now?"
Soul's eyebrows jumped slightly, useless numbers starting to run over his mind. "I, uh, I'll be twenty seven this year."
"You're so young, Solomon." It wasn't chiding but a strange desperation that laced those words. "And I try to think of what my daughter would say–"
"Don't," Soul begged weakly while his hands fell away from his mug. "I-I should go. It's almost time for lunch, and…" He willed himself to his feet, taking a stumbling step back as he couldn't even bring himself to look at Julien. I already know what she'd say. He barely swallowed that. "Thanks for takin' care of her. I'll talk to Layla about comin' by more often."
"Solomon–"
"Really"—Soul put up desperate hands as he tried to block anymore—"I'm alright. Layla is too, so just– let me do things my way."
