Max: First, I want to acknowledge that I'm a total wuss for doing this by text.
Kristen: Max, are you breaking up with me? ;P
Fernando: Not unless she's breaking up with both of us.
Kristen: Oh, hey buddy. Sup?
Fernando: Not much. You?
Kristen: Same.
Max: AS I WAS SAYING, I have something really important to tell you guys.
Kristen: Max?
Kristen: Are you still there?
Max: Give me a second!
Kristen: Sure. Take all the time you need.
Fernando: When you're ready.
Max: I'm gay.
Max: Guys?
Fernando: ...and?
Max: What do you mean 'and'? Isn't 'I'm gay' big enough?
Kristen: Holy crap I think she thinks she's coming out to us!
Fernando: Did you think we didn't know you were gay?
Max: HOW LONG HAVE YOU KNOWN?!
Fernando: Lol! Come on. It's not like you tried super hard to hide it.
Fernando: Kris figured it out, like, an hour after we met.
Max: WHAT?!
Kristen: Dude, cool it with the all-caps.
Max: But how? I didn't realize until recently.
Kristen: Wait how recently?
Max: For sure? Halloween, I guess?
Fernando: Are you serious?
Fernando: Is that why you said no when Sarah Hammond asked you out last spring?
Max: What!
Kristen: Holy crap! That's why you blew off Lisa Carver when she started flirting with you at the beach!
Max: Lisa wasn't flirting with me!
Max: Was she?
Fernando: Wut.
Kristen: Max, she said your swimsuit looked hot and offered to buy you a lemonade.
Kristen: Max?
Max: I just thought she was being nice.
Fernando: Dude, really? Even I could tell she was into you. And I'm an idiot when it comes to that stuff.
Kristen: Seriously, Max. There were signals. Radio stations don't broadcast that loud.
Max: Really?
Kristen: OMFG this is amazing. Hold on a sec.
Max: Why?
Chloe: holy crap whos lisa carver what else did she say tell me everything about innocent baby gay max!
Max: nooooooo
December 25, 2013
Caulfield Residence
Seattle, Washington
"My name is Chloe, and I'm an addict."
"Chloe, stop."
"It's been twenty-five days since my last cigarette." Her voice cracks slightly. "But I'm staying strong."
"Babe, you don't need to do this every time."
"And I owe it all to one person...my rock...my guiding star..." Chloe, continuing to ignore me, turns to Mom and pretends to wipe a tear from her eye. "Mrs. C, from the bottom of my heart, thank you...for making dinner."
Across the table, Mom smiles beatifically. "You're very welcome, Chloe. It's nice to be appreciated."
"Please don't encourage her." I laugh.
"You're welcome too, Max. I won't even make you actually thank me."
"There's no need to be passive-aggressive, Mom."
"I've got no idea what you mean." She winks, rising from her seat. "Now, since someone has to go get dessert, it might as well be me."
"I can help wi...whoa." Chloe wobbles on her feet for a second, grabbing the edge of the table. Before anyone can say anything, she's back to smiling. "Yikes. Headrush. Too much food, I guess. I'm okay."
"You sure?" Mom asks, looking just as concerned as I feel. "That's not the first time that's happened recently."
"Totally sure." she insists, waving her hand dismissively. "It's just my body being pissed cause I cut off the nicotine. C'mon, let's go grab that pie."
"Even after a month?" I'm no expert, but I'm pretty sure symptoms for nicotine withdrawal aren't supposed to last this long. "Maybe you should go see a doctor. Just in case."
"I can't afford a doctor. I'm barely making enough to cover rent as it is."
Mom and Dad glance at each other, then Mom puts a hand on Chloe's arm. "We'd be happy to pay for you to see a doctor, Chloe. And we already said you don't have to pay rent."
"No way. I spent too long mooching off my own mother. I'm not gonna do it here, too. I want to pay my own way for once."
"Well, maybe I can..." I begin.
"Keep saving those dollars up for university," Chloe interrupts, giving me a reassuring smile. "Seriously, babe. I'll be fine."
Mom: Be honest. Did Chloe really like her Christmas presents?
Max: Of course she did. Why wouldn't she?
Mom: It know clothes aren't the kind of thing kids your age get excited about.
Max: Okay, I kinda resent the 'kids our age' thing.
Mom: And I understand that Chloe has been adamant about paying her own way.
Mom: But I couldn't bear to see her with just a half-dozen thrift store outfits.
Max: She loved them, I promise. She even cried a little bit when we got upstairs.
Mom: She did? Why?
Max: It was actually really sweet. She said it kinda felt like she had a mother again.
Max: Mom? You there?
Mom: NOW I'M CRYING TOO THANK YOU VERY MUCH.
Max: I still think you guys are lying about all those girls asking me out.
Kristen: We really aren't. As both your friend and an objective straight chick, I can definitively attest that you've got it going on.
Kristen: It's like this innocent waifish 'protect me now and ravish me later' vibe.
Max: I'm not sure I want to talk to you anymore.
Kristen: Too bad, because you need at least one straight friend. It's the rules.
Max: I guess I'll just have to get by with Fernando.
Kristen: ...
Kristen: Oh, sweetie.
Chloe: guess who got a kickass new job!
Max: I guess Chloe?
Chloe: HELL YEAH I DID!
Chloe: no more mop and bucket for this girl!
Max: Congrats! That's awesome! I wanna hear all the details tonight!
Chloe: pfft why wait?
Chloe: so u know how i took the truck to the mechanic today?
Max: Because you finally got tired of listening to the howls of the engine ghost?
Chloe: it was just a loose alternator ffs
Chloe: my truck wasnt possessed
Chloe: so i was talking to the guy at the desk
Max: Chloe, please just send one big text. Or actually call me.
Chloe: oh relax
Chloe: ANYWAY
Chloe: im telling him what's up and hes being all
Chloe: okay sure little missy whatever u say
Max: Okay, I seriously hate that.
Chloe: right?
Chloe: so then im like
Chloe: listen here asshole
Chloe: i know engines and im saying its the alternator
Max: You tell 'em, babe.
Chloe: then im all
Chloe: hundred bucks says im right
Max: Seriously, wouldn't it be easier if you just called me?
Chloe: whatever im almost done
Chloe: anyway he checks if its the alternator
Chloe: WHICH IT WAS THANK YOU VERY MUCH
Chloe: then while his punk ass is paying up the owner walks by
Chloe: he hears what happened
Chloe: and starts laughing his ass off
Max: My phone won't stop buzzing. People on the bus are starting to look at me funny.
Chloe: FINE
Chloe: we end up shooting the shit for a while and once he figured out that I knew my shit he offered me a job. nothing fancy. gonna start with basic shit like changing oil and fixing flat tires, but if I dont fuck that up or burn the place down then theyll probably start letting me do harder stuff in a couple months. my first day is on monday.
Max: Now was that so hard?
Chloe: yes
January 17, 2014
Caulfield Residence
Seattle, Washington
"So..." I draw the word out, glaring at the two girls sitting across from me. They both look beyond embarrassed, eyes practically glued to the floor, and for what it's worth I know exactly how they feel. "I think we need to discuss boundaries."
It takes them a few seconds to realize I expect a response, and a few more pass before my daughter utters a small, "Okay."
I turn to her girlfriend. "Chloe?"
She flinches a little at her name, somehow looking even more ashamed than Max does. I feel a tiny flicker of guilt, but I force myself to ignore it. This is one of those 'the parent must not show weakness' moments. "Y-yeah."
"Yeah," I echo, nodding slowly. One of the benefits of being a parent with the unquestionable high ground is getting to control the conversation. I get to sit silently for as long as I like, and they won't dare interrupt me. They don't need to know I'm really stalling for time while I figure out what the hell I'm going to say next.
I've always tried to be a relatively easygoing mom. My own mother had been all about 'rules and discipline' when it came to parenting. In response, I rebelled like it was my job and basically put her and dad through six years of pure teenager hell. I had my first tattoo before I was fifteen. I was sixteen the first time I got brought home by the police.
I decided to take the opposite approach with my own daughter, and she turned out to be a pretty easy kid to raise. The most trouble Max ever got into as a teen was getting caught drinking with her friends once and coming home after curfew a few times. Even before that, the worst thing I can remember was the time she and Chloe decided to try taking the car out for a spin, and even that was innocent in its own way.
All told, I could probably count the number of times I've had to take a hard line with her on one hand. Honestly, that probably made it even scarier for her when I did.
That's why, until today, I thought I'd won the offspring lottery. I thought I was crushing it at the whole parenthood thing. And while I've never been naïve enough to think that this sort of thing couldn't happen, as Max got older I had started to hope it just wouldn't.
I don't want to be the one to say it, (I'm actually a little uncomfortable just thinking it), but another one of the parental benefits here is that I don't have to. "And which one of you would like to say exactly why that is?"
From the way they tense up, you'd think I just asked for a volunteer to jump into a volcano.
"If one of you doesn't start talking, I'm going to choose for you."
I love my daughter with all my heart, but if I'd been betting on which one of them would have the courage to speak first, my money would've been on Chloe. I'm pretty surprised when Max puts a hand on her girlfriend's arm and raises her head to look me in the eye. "Because of what we were doing when you came in."
"Uh-huh. And what were you doing, exactly?"
"I..." She looks stunned. Did she actually think I'd let her off that easily?
"I'm waiting."
"We...we were..." She looks away, mumbling the rest.
"Loud enough for me to hear, please."
I don't think I've ever seen anyone look so betrayed, but if she's looking for sympathy, she won't get it from me. Chloe looks up and opens her mouth to speak, but I silence her with a glare. Max started this, and Max is going to finish it.
"W-we..." She swallows loudly and once again forces herself to look me in the eye. I almost want to tell her how proud I am that she does. "We were having sex."
"That's right." I nod. "You were."
I've read my share of parenting books over the years but let me tell you, not a single one of them prepared me for the experience of coming home from work early to find my daughter and her girlfriend naked on the living room couch.
Just to be clear, it isn't what they were doing I was shocked by. They've been together since early November at least, and I'm not stupid enough to think that they've kept things PG this whole time. If I'm being totally honest, I'd have been pretty surprised if they had. But it's one thing to be abstractly aware that my daughter is probably having sex with someone. It's another thing entirely to suddenly find myself watching it firsthand.
I'm not sure what was worse; the sounds before they realized I was there, or the silence after they did. I barely remember telling them to go get dressed or their panicked rush up the stairs; just their mortified expressions and slightly askew clothing when I demanded they come down to the kitchen a few minutes later.
"You both understand why I'm upset, right? I mean, besides having seen things that no amount of bleach will clean out of my mind?"
Max looks away shamefully and this time, it's Chloe who steps up. "Yes, Mrs. Caulfield."
She's using my full last name; she must be scared half to death. "Explain it to me, please."
"Because you guys have been really great about me and Max sle...uh...I...um..."
"Sleeping together," I finish before she can give herself a stroke.
"Y-yeah." She nods jerkily. "You were chill about that, even after we tried to hide it for, like, two months, and..."
"Two months?" Which I already knew, but the sudden look of abject panic on Chloe's face is worth pretending I didn't. "Never mind that right now. Please continue."
"R-r-right, s-so we d-d-did..."
"Chloe?"
"Yeah?"
"Breathe."
"M'kay." She takes a few breaths. "So you were cool with us...sleeping together...cause you thought we could be, y'know, mature about it. And today we weren't. And that was hella rude."
"Yes, it was. So now the question is whether or not that's something we can still believe?"
"I'm sorry! It was all my fault, I swear!"
"It takes two to tango, Chloe. And if what I saw really was entirely your doing, this would be a very different conversation."
I must be more shaken than I thought. I'm usually much more deliberate with what I say. I was trying to make a joke about how ridiculous it is for her to try and take sole responsibility, but the instant the words pass my lips I know I've said exactly the wrong thing.
Chloe reels back like I've struck her, trembling as the color slowly drains away from her features. "N-no! I'd never...I would never...p-please don't..."
She doesn't manage to finish the sentence, but she doesn't have to. The words are written all over her face. Please don't hate me. Please don't make me leave. She's usually so energetic and outgoing that it's easy to forget how much she's already lost, and how afraid she must be of losing the rest.
"I'm so sorry, Chloe. That was a stupid thing for me to say and I didn't mean it the way it sounded. I know that you'd never, ever do something like that. Forgive me?"
She nods, very slowly. "Y-yeah."
Unbelievable. I can walk into a courtroom and prosecute a murderer without breaking a sweat, but the first time I try to be the stern parental figure with my daughter and her girlfriend I manage to fuck it up worse than I could've imagined. So much for holding the high ground.
"Alright, I think it's safe to say that we're all feeling pretty crappy by now, so we're just going to skip the punishment part."
Max eyes me cautiously. "We are?"
"We are. Partially because I'd have to explain why you were being punished to your father." She looks profoundly horrified at the idea, as she should be. "None of us want that, do we?"
On almost any other day, I'd think the way they vehemently shake their heads in almost perfect unison was adorable.
"Chloe." I didn't think I could feel like more of an asshole, but the way she flinches... "You're decent with a tool set, aren't you?"
She nods, confused. "I...I guess?"
"Then here's how this is going to go. After we're done here, you're both leave the house for the rest of the day while I have someone in to professionally clean the couch, cushions, blankets, rugs, and any other surface the two of you may have...enjoyed."
"We only..."
"Please don't finish that sentence, Maxine." I take a breath. "Later this evening, a new doorknob with a lock will appear on Max's bed. Chloe will install it on your bedroom door and you'll both become familiar with how it works. And at some point in the next couple of days, two-hundred dollars is going to find its way into my purse, covering the cost of both. Got it?"
"Y-yes, Mrs. Caulfield," Chloe says. Max just nods fervently.
I wave toward the door. "Go."
They don't need to be told twice. Bursting out of their seats, they scramble out of the room and up the stairs. A few minutes later, Max comes back in with her coat in one hand and a short stack of five and ten dollar bills in the other.
"Here's sixty," she mumbles, handing me the money. "It's all we've got here."
"Thank you."
"And..." She forces herself to look we in the eye. "I'm so sorry."
"I appreciate your saying so." I put a hand on her arm. "I'm sorry, too."
"'kay." She gestures to the door. "I'm just gonna..."
"Okay. Oh, and sweetheart?"
"Yeah?"
"Just so you know, you're still wearing Chloe's shirt." She lets out a strangled noise, and her eyes go especially wide when I add, "And it's still on backwards."
Kristen: Is Max okay?
Chloe: ya
Chloe: shes sleeping right now
Kristen: Thank god.
Kristen: That was really scary! What the hell happened? One second were just sitting in science class and the next thing I know she's freaking out.
Chloe: panic attack
Chloe: she gets them sometimes
Kristen: Oh.
Kristen: Hey, can I ask you about something Max said?
Chloe: sure i guess
Kristen: Who's Warren?
Chloe: look
Chloe: imma do something now
Chloe: and its gonna be hard
Chloe: and maybe a little weird
Chloe: but im doing it for u
Max: Should I be worried?
Chloe: ok
Chloe: here goes
Chloe: I love you so much, Max. You're the best thing that ever happened to me. Will you be my Valentine?
Max: What?! Multiple sentences in one text?! Grammar?! And is that... *gasp* ...PUNCTUATION?!
Chloe: IT BURNSSSS USSS!
February 20, 2014
Caulfield Residence
Seattle, Washington
"What's wrong, assholes?! Scared of a little rain?!"
I've made a point of keeping away from the windows lately, but I can't resist peeking out the curtain to watch Chloe wreak havoc on the vultures who've been gathered on our front yard for the last few days.
It'd started last Monday when we'd come downstairs for breakfast. Chloe had been a few steps ahead of me and had spotted it first. She'd spun around, tried to stop me from getting into the kitchen, but she hadn't been fast enough to keep me from seeing the front page of that day's newspaper.
The sight of Mark Jefferson's smug face, staring up at me from the kitchen table, had been like a punch to the gut.
At that point, I'd avoided him in every way I could. Just because he'd survived the storm didn't mean I had to acknowledge his existence any more than absolutely necessary. I'd long since burned every book of his that I owned. I never looked him up online, no matter how morbidly curious I got. I'd even managed to mostly avoid thinking about him for weeks. That was why I hadn't known that his trial started that day.
Luckily for me, the front page of the Seattle Times had been there, ready to tell me all about it. Because as heinous as his crimes had been on their own, they also tied back to the destruction of Arcadia Bay. It was the kind of story newspapers dreamed of. Tragedy, suffering, loss, destruction, perversion, betrayal, scandal, corruption, trauma, and death. All the things that people would never ever admit they craved.
It also had one more thing that drove reporters into a frenzy. Survivors.
Up until that point, the 'cover-story' that Chloe and I had left Arcadia Bay the week before the storm had mostly kept us off the media's radar. We weren't 'Survivors of Arcadia Bay'. We were just two girls who, through pure dumb luck, didn't get killed in the storm.
Sure there'd been a handful of reporters who'd put two and two together and ended up calling for a quote, but they never seemed very interested. We were background characters, and we'd been cool with that. But this time, they weren't looking for survivors of the storm; they wanted survivors of Jefferson. People he'd personally affected.
People like the best friend of Rachel Amber, the girl he'd all but murdered himself. Social media really screwed Chloe on that one.
People like his favorite student, who he'd practically lusted after. The sick bastard named me personally in an interview.
There'd been a mob of reporters on our doorstep before mid-morning, all clamoring for a juicy quote from either one of us. They'd been relentless, shouting questions at the top of their lungs and jamming microphones in my parents' faces anytime they left the house. Dad had called the police, but there wasn't much they could do unless someone tried to force their way in.
I don't know how long we could've gone on like that, but I don't think we'll have to find out. About fifteen minutes ago, Mom caught a man in our backyard with a camera lurking near the bathroom window. He'd run off the second she spotted him. Dad and I had been in the living room and found out about it about a minute later. Chloe had come downstairs about two minutes after that and found out herself. From there, it was about ten seconds before everybody else knew it too.
Going through the garage and turning on the lawn sprinklers on her way, she uncoiled the garden hose from the side of the house and started raining watery hell down on the gathered reporters. And wouldn't you know it? They weren't too enthusiastic about asking questions when they were just going to get a face full of water for their trouble. And I don't think anyone is going to want to stand around on our lawn, soaking wet, in the middle of February either.
It probably hasn't solved all of our problems, but it sure is satisfying to watch my own personal attack Chloe scare the wolves away.
[Unknown Number]: Hi, is this Maxine Caulfield?
Max: Who is this?
[Unknown Number]: My name is Paul Baker. I'm with Seattle's Fox affiliate KCPQ 13 and I'm trying to reach Maxine Caulfield.
Max: How did you get this number?
[Unknown Number]: If you're Maxine, would you be interested in doing an interview this week on the evening news?
[Unknown Number]: I'd like to give you an opportunity to talk about your former teacher, Mark Jefferson.
Max: Absolutely not.
[Unknown Number]: We'd be happy to compensate you for your time.
Max: NO.
[Unknown Number]: I'm sorry you feel that way. If you change your mind, you can reach me at this number.
Max: Don't hold your breath.
NUMBER BLOCKED
Chloe: so u remember that jeep u worked on last week?
Chloe: with the punctured oil pan?
Tony: What about it?
Chloe: it came back in this morning
Chloe: owner said there was a weird sound coming from the undercarriage
Chloe: so i pulled the new pan to check all the bolts
Chloe: guess what?
Tony: Just cut to the punchline, will ya?
Chloe: put it to u this way
Chloe: know that socket wrench u lost?
Chloe: i found it
Tony: Fuck.
Tony: Okay, how pissed off is Rick? Like, 1-10 scale?
Chloe: zero
Chloe: did u a solid
Chloe: told the owner it was just a loose bolt
Chloe: put the pan back and didnt charge them
Tony: Damn. Thanks, Blue.
Tony: I owe you one.
Chloe: funny u should say that...
Chloe: is ur cousin still doing those fake ids?