Chapter 16: The Rivalry

Michelle had made arrangements for Renae to stay at an apartment nearby. She had determined that she would take a portion of her paycheck to help pay the rent until Renae could find a job for herself. Michelle thought she had covered her bases and taken care of every variable... but that was before she turned on the TV.

The news was on and Michelle was shocked to see Margaret giving a story about what had happened when the darkness took over the park. The way the story was being told and the fact that the footage showed no one there except Michelle made her look insane. Michelle's eyes widened as she listened and watched, not believing her eyes. It had been arranged for the news to capture her talking to Madame Mystaire... who appeared to be nothing but a phantom. The floating crystal ball had been swinging on a thread. If anyone believed the news story, it looked like Michelle was talking to herself.

"So, what is this 'night of the moss'? Is it something real or the ravings of someone who has been a closet madwoman?" Margaret dramatically asked the audience. "We're here at the park to find out." It was true. Margaret and a news crew were right outside the park house.

Skips came in. "Hey, sweetheart," he greeted Michelle with a kiss to the side of her head.

"I have to go," said Michelle quickly. She got up and went over to the wardrobe that she and Skips shared.

"Go? Go where? Are you in trouble?"

"Maybe. I just need to go and lay low for a little while, that's all." She had taken a long overcoat from the wardrobe and was heading for the door, but stopped when she heard voices. She gasped and ran to the wardrobe to hide. "I'm not here," she whispered insistently. While Skips tried to figure out what was going on, a knock came to the door.

Skips answered the door and found Margaret standing there with a news camera man documenting everything behind her. "Hey, Skips. Is Michelle here?" asked Margaret.

"Uh..." said Skips. He wasn't able to answer. The news crew came in and Margaret zeroed in on the wardrobe. She threw open the doors to a somewhat surprised, somewhat embarrassed Michelle.

"Hi," said Michelle.

"Whatcha doin' in that closet, Michelle? Are you trying to hide because you realized you really are crazy?" asked Margaret.

"Margaret..." Michelle climbed out of the wardrobe and closed the doors. "Let's not do this, okay? I'm really tired and I would rather go about my life. If you'll let me do that, I'll get let you get on with yours," she said.

"Oh, is that a threat, Michelle?"

"Margaret, let's not do this now."

"Why? When would be a good time? The night of the moss?"

"I know what you think and I know what happened, but that's not how it is."

"Really? 'Cause there was no one there. I don't know whose voice you thought you heard, but video evidence proves that the only voice talking was yours. Whatever 'magic' you thought you might have seen was all fake."

"Yeah, whatever, Margaret."

"So, just what is this night of the moss?"

"You must really be desperate for a story to come and pick on me. What happened? No kitty in a tree? No local disaster? Mark my words, something big will happen at the stroke of four. Then, this little 'pregnant lady's crazy' thing will seem insignificant in comparison."

"That's in six minutes," said the camera guy.

"You keep avoiding my questions. Why? What's so big about this thing that you feel like you have to hide it?" asked Margaret.

"Nothing. I was just thinking if you got bored enough, you'd leave me alone for once," said Michelle.

"Oh, yeah, right, like you ever left me alone."

"That was ten years ago. Just let it go."

"How can I let that go? You don't let any of your things against me go."

"You know what, Margaret? I have been living a life without you around to muck it up and I could care less anymore."

"All right. Answer my question and I'll leave you alone."

"Will you?"

"Yeah. It's that easy."

Michelle scoffed and rolled her eyes. "September 22nd, 1904, I was called in for a special client. He was a man in the film business, an actor. He had heard of my skills with make-up and offered me a good amount of money to make him into the Moss Monster. It was a low-budget film, but he was a rich man performing charity on the less fortunate. This, of course, was only because he was covering the fact that he was a complete and total jerk.

"Anyway, I tried to use my traditional skills, but nothing I did seemed to have the 'proper effect' in his mind. He wanted to be the Moss Monster, to become that character. Well, October 1st found me once again in his dressing room. Once again, one of my pieces of work failed to impress him. He fired me. Before I left though, he chanced a glance into my make-up kit. He found a book. A spell book. He told me that he would keep my secret if I would only turn him into the Moss Monster. I warned him that the effects of the spell had major consequences to it, but he didn't listen. He wanted to be the greatest and most genuine actor in the world. I agreed. It is something I have come to regret.

"He was turned into the Moss Monster, most certainly, but the magic from the book I had used was a dark magic, so the spell came with a curse. Now, every night on October 1st, I must fire a bullet from a magical gun at him. The spell would fade from him and he would finally be at peace after the hundredth bullet, but if Madame Mystaire is correct, I will not be able to fire it. I have missed so many times before that I would prefer it if it would just end. I'm on the last bullet and he needs to be released from his suffering, jerk or not."

Margaret and the camera man both let out laughs. "Well, you heard it here folks. A moss monster is coming October 1st to a theater near you," Margaret jokingly said.

"Actually, that film was never made. All the cameras broke. It became lost to the ages, which, being a silent film, it's not a very great loss," said Michelle.

"And here I thought you were going to try to show some pride in what you were doing," said Margaret.

"There's nothing prideful about what happened to him. I haven't picked up my makeup for many years, even though I have often been praised for it."

"Yeah, 'cause turning the person into the monster is such good makeup."

"Look, you got your answer, now please, leave me be."

"All right, all right... oh, did you remember to tell Skips about that night in '04?"

"Get out!"

"All right then." Margaret left with her camera man and the news was still going on about Michelle for a while.

Skips turned the TV off and began rubbing Michelle's shoulders. "I suppose now you want to know about it?" she asked.

"Michelle, we've both had times in our lives we'd rather not talk about. If you don't want to talk about it, I won't pressure you," said Skips.

"Thanks, Walks," said Michelle softly. She still called him "Walks" and he still called her "Evangeline." Everything was good for the moment. Then, an explosion was heard in the distance. "Oh, yeah..." She sighed. Skips and Michelle went out the door to try to take care of the new disaster that was plaguing the park.

Spring turned into summer and the park was busier than ever. It was also not a merciful summer by way of temperature. This was why Benson had called Michelle into his office. "Normally, I wouldn't consider calling anyone off at this time of year. It's our biggest month and we need all the help we can get, but I don't like watching you suffer like this," said Benson.

"Benson, I'm only seven months along. It's no big deal," said Michelle. Her mouth was full with a cake she was eating.

"Aren't you worried about the effects this will have on you or your child?"

"Look, Benson, I've been through worse than a little hot weather for having children. I haven't done this before, but I don't see it as being a challenge. I appreciate your concern, but if I think I can still work, then I should be allowed to. If I can't take it anymore, I'll tell you."

"It wasn't me that brought you in here, Michelle."

"Was it Skips?"

"He's worried about you, Michelle. He's seen you suffering through the heat and the big weight you're carrying."

"Well, this is the biggest I've gotten, but I think I can handle it."

"I don't want to make you do something if you're uncomfortable with it."

"I'm not... but thank you."

"Well, if you're sure you can make it, then you can get back to work."

"Thanks, Benson."

It was a scorcher. The oil Michelle rubbed on her stomach to ease the stretching pains didn't even need to be heated first. It just needed to be set out in the sun for a minute or two. Cooling bills went through the roof, but gas bills went down drastically. All that was needed was a black surface outside and it could cook almost anything.

It was getting to be more and more painful to carry. Michelle learned through life's experiences to bite her tongue when she wanted to complain, but it was getting ridiculous. It was becoming clearer to her that she was correct in her earlier assumptions.

One hot summer day when everyone's spirits were low due to the heat, Skips got the idea that they should go out for another karaoke night. He had expected to lift everyone's spirits with this suggestion, but Michelle's spirits were not lifted from this. "I'd rather not," she said.

"Why not? I thought you loved singing," said Skips.

"I did, I loved it very much, but Margaret coming back into my life reminded me of a bitter memory of that life."

"Is this the story of how you got your siren abilities?" asked Rigby.

"It's related," replied Michelle.

"Cool," said Rigby. Michelle rolled her eyes.

"Why don't you tell the story?" asked Mordecai.

"Ah, you don't want to hear that," said Michelle, batting a hand away at the thought. "Besides, it is also the story of the beginning of the rivalry between Margaret and I and I would rather not dredge up such prickly memories."

"Well, why not? We've got nothing better to do," said Rigby, turning on a fan and setting it to rotate. Benson might have said something, but with how hot it was outside and how slightly cooler the house was, he decided not to argue.

"All right. It was the fall of 2004. I had gotten my singing abilities as a new year's 'gift' when we reached Y2K. I was still getting used to my abilities and I was still very reluctant to use them. I didn't like having so much power at my disposal. Well, blah, blah, blah, stuff happened and I was really depressed. It was not a good year to be depressed either. 'Here Without You' and 'My Immortal' were both very popular sad songs at the time.

"I said all that to say this: there was this blues joint that was having a singing competition. Whoever could sound the most heartbroken, the saddest, and the most passionate would win this thing that seemed really important at the time. I don't really remember what it was since I had a lot to drink to celebrate my win. Well, Margaret was really good, but my siren powers obviously blew her out of the water. She didn't take losing well. Since then, we've kinda been competing for 'who's better' every time we've met. Which, the game of 'who's better' grates after a time and I find it all really superficial now."

"That's it?" asked Mordecai.

"I could've gotten into more details, but there's really not much more to tell," said Michelle. When she finished her story, her mind wandered into a different channel: how was Renae doing?

Renae, as it turned out, was doing just fine. It didn't take her long to adjust to her apartment, and later on, a job. She was making a decent amount of money at her job, but she was finding it hard to find companionship. If she were still able to remember Michelle, she would say that there was no one else who could compare to Michelle's personality and beauty. As it was, no woman she found appealed to her that strongly.

One day at the supermarket on a hot day though, she spied a woman who looked fairly attractive. Please let her be okay with this... thought Renae. She was able to get the woman's number, then a date, then it went further. It seemed that Renae's life wasn't that bad without Michelle after all (not that she'd ever know that). So, when Michelle had called the landlord at Renae's apartment complex about rent money and Renae's welfare and found her well off, she felt better about her decision and happy that her friend was able to move on. They never agreed, gender-wise, but they were still able to be as good of friends as anyone else could have possibly been. It was that respect that made Michelle almost regret what she had done. So many memories, so many people that she lost.

"Evangeline?" asked Skips.

"Hm? I'm fine, Walks, I just need to... go for a walk," said Michelle. She got up and went outside. At that moment, she had half-forgotten how hot the weather was. When she got outside, she let out an "Oh, yeah..." before heading to Skips's van. She needed to get away. She needed to find someone who she had known for a long time, someone who could understand what she was going through.

"You know, I'm really surprised you came to see me, what with all the awkwardness that occurs whenever Skips or Angelica come in the room," said Death.

"Tell me about it," replied Michelle. Death understood what she went through. He was, after all, there for all of the deaths she had to endure. So, she had gone to his house. He had let her in, after a moment of awkwardness, and offered her tea. She gladly accepted.

"So, how's everything going with you?" he asked.

"As if you didn't know," said Michelle, batting a hand.

"I was just asking to be polite."

"Well, I appreciate it." They were quiet for a moment. "How are things with you?"

"Oh, very well, thank you. Angelica is doing well and we're considering on finding a preschool for Thomas so that the wife and I might be able to spend more time together."

"Yeah, I love kids, but they get in the way sometimes when it comes to relationships. I'm really excited for this one though."

"Yeah, it ought to be a real kicker." Death laughed.

"So, what I've been thinking is true?"

"You know I hate spoiling surprises."

"Unless, of course, the person greatly deserves it, in your opinion." To this, Death laughed again.

"I've missed this. You should come by more often."

"Yeah, you're about the only person I can talk to anymore. Years of dealing with the side effects of, well, your job, has made me rather bitter... not that I could have done anything about it. It just so happened to be that they needed to die. Their time had come and... no matter what, it was still painful." She paused. "At least now that I'm with Skips, he won't die on me. Maybe, since we're both immortal, our children will be immortal as well and I won't have to go through that pain again either. Of course... then they'll have problems finding people." Michelle sighed. "Immortality sucks."

"Heh. I remember a day when you said you loved immortality. Are you saying that you'd give it up?"

"With how old I am? No way! I'd turn into dust on the spot. There'd be nothing left but my ashes and what kind of a funeral can you have for just ashes? What kind of a funeral do people have for nothing?"

"You've been thinking on death again, haven't you?"

"You never really leave my mind. Either you or your job invade my thoughts and make me depressed. Then, when you're not in there, Fear is, and I still fear the same things I feared when I first gained immortality... more or less."

"I wish I could be there for you, Michelle."

"I know." She paused. "It's odd, isn't it? We're both happy with our lives and how everything is going and who we're with yet every time we think of each other, it just makes us think on what we miss."

"You too, huh?" Michelle batted a hand. "Are you truly content with how everything turned out?"

"I don't know. Everything in my life has always turned out so badly that I guess I expect it to go wrong again. It all seems too easy that I get everything I want like this. It almost makes me want to go back to the days when I had challenges and when utter happiness was always just out of reach. I am the hunter who has lost their prey... and now I have become it."

"I'm sure you won't feel this way long."

"You're sure?"

"Certain." Michelle smiled at that.

"You always knew how to set me right again when I fell into my pits of depression."

"Strange source for that, if I do say so myself." They laughed. "Come on then, I'll drive you home."

"Thank you, Death, for everything."

"I wish sometimes we could go back to the days when you called me by name."

"It is no longer my privilege... and I don't mind that."

"You're the only one alive who knows it, you know."

Michelle stopped. "You haven't told her your name?"

Death shrugged. "I guess we all have our own shares of regrets." Michelle didn't question further and so, he drove her back to the park without very many more words. Their parting was friendly and grateful. It left Michelle with a lighter heart and she knew it was that way for Death as well. As she walked back home, she whispered his name only loud enough for herself to hear and she smiled. Though many bad memories were surrounded in death, she was astonished by how many good memories had Death in them.

All right. I hope you guys enjoyed this chapter. Please keep reading and reviewing, thanks :)