FALL
Patty came into the living room, breaking the silence. She sat herself right in between Liz and Kid in the middle of the couch, taking the pillows behind her and hugging it tightly in anticipation. The world had been waiting for the next launch for the moon, and they all felt that this was the time that they would finally succeed. Every house down the street was silent. Every pair of eyes and ears were trained onto the voice of the broadcaster.
This time… this time…
This wasn't the time, was it? thought Liz.
She'd been all too used to disappointment in her life, too used to the promise of the unimaginable. To suddenly be anticipating the success of the moon landing was laughable. They saw what happened the first time around, and so what was different about this one? Nothing. They were going to launch men into the sky again, they were going to fail again, and everyone was going to be moping for weeks again.
There was no such thing as a sudden change for the better.
While Kid put a reassuring hand on Patty's shoulder, Liz left the room.
She would find out later that the launch went fine, but it didn't matter. Next time they would try to put a man on the moon, it would inevitably fail. Luck always runs out.
She found the duck pond a few weeks ago on one of her nightly walks, and found her way back again when it was daylight. It wasn't much, but it was a quiet, solitary place and so she brought her lunches to the rickety old bench next to the pond day after day. It was one of these days, when she found herself staring off into space picking the crusts off her sandwich and throwing them to the birds, when it happened.
"Miss," the officer said behind her. "You can't feed the ducks here."
"Why not?" she blurted out before she could stop herself, and the officer rolled his eyes.
"We have rules about that here. I guess you're new in town?" And with that, he took a pad out of his pocket and began writing.
That was how Liz found herself standing before Kid that evening, a citation in her hand and a fine to pay, and this is it , this is how we get kicked out of here.
"I'm not angry," Kid says, fidgeting with the rings on his fingers. "But you're not supposed to feed the birds."
She stares at him coldly, not saying a word. They stand in silence for a moment, before he speaks up again.
"I'll pay it," he said suddenly. "I'll take care of it, don't worry."
"No," she snapped. "It's my responsibility."
"You're living in my house now," he replied, "So it's actually my responsibility."
The words came so quickly to her throat, to tell him off and insist that she didn't need him, but instead she swallowed and nodded. He was right. She did live here now. This was her life now, and there was nothing more she could do about it.
"Fine," she whispers, willing herself to look him in the eye. "I'm sorry to be such a burden to you."
And with that, she turned on her heel and left, missing his whispered insistence, "You're not a burden, Liz."
There it was again, that fog over her eyes that made it feel as if they were closed, yet she could see the world clearly though the lens. She handed the camera back to Kid, who told her to hold onto it for as long as she wanted. Liz warned him that she may keep it for longer than he thought, but he was undeterred, asking to see the photos that she took at the very least and to allow him to develop the photos. Before she could answer, Patty cut into the conversation, holding a leaf to Liz's face and brightly noted the beautiful colors. They were so unlike the concrete pavement and the bricks laid out. There was only so much color that they could see while walking through Brooklyn, but the new neighborhood was vibrant with greens and abundant flora was something else to behold.
While Patty had been thriving, Liz felt otherwise. She saw the fading colors turning to brown and the wilting leaves that were ready to fall to the ground. She felt every crunch of leaves under her shoes and the sounds of nature disappearing one by one just before winter struck. There was a shift in the birds that passed through and she just couldn't read them at all. They never stayed long enough for her to capture on film.
Along with the changing of the seasons, she rarely joined in on conversation until she's prompted and even then, she didn't know how to contribute unless it was a direct question. She was beginning to believe that she had nothing else to say, nothing interesting that anyone would want to hear. And she noticed that they were also beginning to speak to her less and less- just as she feared.
Liz had never been one to see the world as a whole, rather, she tended to focus on one thing before moving to the next target in mind. Should there be a task, whether it be hunting for food or shelter or for a place to just feel human again, she would do it. But these mundane tasks that were directionless- she couldn't see the end to them at all.
The flashes of the camera were getting too annoying to work with, and so she turned off the setting entirely, relying solely shifting the manual setting for brightness. Throughout working with the device, Liz had learned that there was something beautiful in creating still shots. They were unchanging, unyielding, and they captured the moment that she wanted to preserve in every bit of flaws on the surface. Liz chose to photograph people at first, but found them to be too fickle, especially when she had no one to model in front of the camera. Instead, she moved onto stagnant places- which admittingly helped her learn the area more as well.
Kid took her and her sister to too many places to keep track of. In the first few times, Kid was careful to monitor how Liz and Patty were faring- which wasn't very well because they felt so out of place and awful in their new scenery. They were fish out of water, attracting too much attention from other residents and looking too different in terms of fashion and mannerisms. He seemed to make note of this instantly, pulling them out of tough decisions by choosing for them and steering them towards calmer, less crowded areas.
He also discovered the girls' window shopping habits quickly enough, taking them to thrift shops that they would particularly eye more than others and giving them a soft allowance to spend every week. This sort of generosity was rare, and Liz wondered if there was ever a catch to it. Still, he avoided the fancy shopping malls where his suits were tailored and allowed them to stick with places where they would be more comfortable. He kindly pointed out bad sales but encouraged good bargains if they saw articles of clothing that they liked.
"Build your closets," he said to them, paying upfront with every purchase and helping them carry their new goods to the car and to the house.
The one thing that he was always careful about was their private quarters. He prepared two separate rooms for them both, and though it was off putting to separate each other, Patty was more than happy to have her own room which she took the liberty of decorating immediately with paper crafts and art pieces. She made friends with the maids and asked them to paint with her during their off hours, and she contacted the gardener to help her with a window sill flower box under both her wide set windows. When she came to Liz to ask if she'd like to do the same, Liz sighed, reminding her that flowers bloomed during the spring, not the fall. Yet the next day, Patty was outside with Paul the gardener, happily communicating about plants that could live through the winter and onto the next year.
While Patty's room was looking warm and welcoming, Liz's seemed barely touched. It was almost like no one was living there in the first place, taking on the feeling of a guest room rather than a resident's. Patty and Kid did their best to present furniture and other items to hang on Liz's walls, but outside of those efforts, there was no signs that anyone had been there. It was the way Liz decided to live. She didn't know how long they would be staying or how stable their situation was- not that Liz was even in the house long enough to feel like it was home. The outdoors was still much more preferable and her moments of solitude were becoming her frequented haven.
On the Thursday after the launch, disappointment still nigh, Kid decided that it would be a perfect day for an outing. He reserved three seats at Mirabelle Tavern and decided to visit a local thrift shop in the meantime to get out of the house, as if the three hadn't already spent plenty of time away either for business or otherwise. While he didn't choose anything for himself, he picked through a couple of hats for his chauffeur and combed through a couple of times out of habit in memory of his father. Together, the girls decided to look through the racks in hopes that they could find something warm but still seasonably stylish. It was always present in the back of their minds to follow clothing trends that they would see displayed in the windows of Brooklyn, unobtainable. Those fashions still seemed so out of reach, and Liz didn't know how to feel about having the opportunity of wearing it herself. They were nice to look at, but she believed that it simply wasn't her place to desire those pretty waist high pants and brightly colored tops.
Instead, she settled on a couple of shirts that seemed to fit both her and Patty, still in the mindset that she needed to provide for the both of them. Patty though was straying from the clothes and onto the shoes against the back wall.
At the Mirabelle Tavern cafe, Kid order for the whole table as he usually did, but this time around, rather than feel grateful, Liz was slightly shy- meek even- in the room. He decided to take them to a new place, but Liz felt that the air around it was different, more elegant and serene than just a place that people could randomly walk into on a Thursday afternoon. The very fact that Kid had to make reservations proved her to be correct, and watching Patty squirm in her seat didn't sit well with Liz. He leaned against his chair unaware of their straying eyes and restlessness.
Once the food was out, she noticed that Patty relaxed slightly, seeing that her favorites like shortcake and key lime pie were there at the table for her. She let the waitress set it in front of her, smiling as she thanked them for their service while Kid nodded slightly. That separation in behavior though… There was still a world of difference between them. Any person looking at the table could tell that all three of them were out of place, one who belonged in a higher circle while the other two didn't have a place to belong at all.
Liz took a shaky sip of rose tea, skipping over the desert since its sweet smell was making her dizzy. Though pleasing to look at from a distance, eating it would have dispelled the magic- so she avoided it. She became stiffer as they spent time at the table, cold and quiet, answering briskly like a cold autumn wind when she was talked to.
It seemed unfair, especially after she realized that Kid hadn't really done anything wrong, nor did he understand why she was upset in the first place. Her pettiness kept her act going though, and she continued to pick at a croissant in favor of the pecan pie that she knew he chose for her.Notice it , she directed to him. Feel bad, Kid.
At one point, he did try to pacify her mood, making a gesture to the tray of sweets and offering more in place of the piece that she didn't want. After her refusal, he chose instead to converse with her, seeing her mouth could still move even if she weren't chewing. It began with small talk about the beginning of their day, what he was doing at his office and small complaints about the state of affairs, which Liz found to be boring. He attempted to ask what she'd been up to herself, but she deflected the question by telling him that it was just the same as always, and that nothing had changed.
Finally, he asked, "How are the new heels? Are they comfortable?"
She looked to her shoes in question, a lovely shade of scarlet red that Patty insisted would complement her natural lip tint- the very shade that she hid now with expensive make up that she received as gifts from friendly maids who Liz was certain were bribed by Kid to hand to her. At the time, she agreed with Patty for the sake of normalcy. Her sister was her equal, her best friend, the sole person who had stuck with her through thick and thin through the cruel world they called home. In the end, she always trusted the only solid presence in her life, and so what was there to say when Patty presented a pair of high heels, one inch thick, and looked too eager for Liz to try them on.
And now… after that question, Liz wasn't quite sure anymore. The red was too bright for someone who always lived in the shadows. The point of the heels was everything that she'd dreamed of wearing, especially after years of fantasizing such a design on her own feet, replacing her worn out shoes that they'd found in the dumpster before. To see those fancy brands in the windows- and now to have them on her feet? She should have been so happy…. But she just wasn't.
They didn't suit her at all.
Liz felt her shoulders tense against her will. Her neck slumped over and she twiddled her thumbs together, all too aware that her nails were uneven and poorly cared for. Her hyper fixation habit was difficult to break, and she was feeling that sensory overload all over again. The irritation of polite laughing but fake intentions all around. The clinking of miniature forks and minimalist Tepco ceramic. She'd started to flinch at every bit of noise that she heard- and worse, she was shutting down her responses and her senses.
After a particularly prolonged blink, Patty encouraged her with a " sissy? " but Liz was too far gone at that point, too busy stopping the world from turning with her sights on the untouched cake in front of her. Her ears trained on her own quick breathing, too soft to be normal, but too loud to be dead. Perhaps if she closed her eyes again, she would be back in her solitude, back alone in the park and be alright again. Liz felt words coming out that she didn't think of, that she didn't mean. And while they were sharp against her table mates, she didn't care. At least she responded somehow.
At first, she did feel slightly better, knowing that she got the upper hand at something, even if it weren't warranted during that time. It didn't last long though, dying out as quickly as it came when Kid turned to Patty instead. He spoke to her lowly, using his gentleman training which Liz was sure he could lead at his young age, while Patty whispered back just as quickly. They were huddled together, speaking solely to themselves at the corner of the square dining table. They cupped their hands over their mouths, speaking in hushed tones and quickly glanced over to Liz, then back, then towards her, then back again. It was an inside joke, wasn't it , Liz thought darkly. It was about her, wasn't it?
She had no proof honestly, but they were giving her too many secret glances to be brushed off as innocent and much too quiet to hear over the noise of the setting they were in. The two seemed closer than ever, but what else did Liz expect… leaving the two alone… she should have known that it was inevitable, that she'd soon be trespassing over their regular lives.
It was only in the future did she find out what they'd really said, and that it was a conversation about her welfare and whether Kid had done anything wrong- a common question that Patty heard throughout that entire year. While Liz had always been the mediator, Patty now took on the role, explaining to Kid that he hadn't done anything wrong, strung together in a slur of colorful slang and a cheery voice.
To Liz though, in that moment, it just seemed like Patty knew all of the right words and what to say. She was no longer the one who needed to be protected- she was Liz's protector. It didn't settle right with her, not at all, and it was a great thing that Liz hadn't eaten that afternoon or else it would have reappeared in front of her and everyone else too.
Instead of waiting around, she wanted to make the same snarky remarks that came so easily to her before. She wanted that satisfaction of seeing their widening eyes and the shock etched into their faces. Above all, she wanted to just use her voice, that large, loud, powerful voice that she knew could stop thieves dead in their tracks and start her own form of a revolution. It would be so quick- just say something like you always would -
She didn't.
Instead, she got up from the table, ignoring the eyes that were suddenly on her shaking body. She left her seat without grabbing the camera bag that she'd set so carefully on the table next to her, sitting dejectedly. By the time that Liz made it out of the door, she found that her small pinky toe was rubbing too closely to the sides of her shoes. Stepping to the side, she removed them cautiously, finding that those heels just weren't very good for her after all. And with them in hand, swinging back and forth, Liz set on a trail back into the woods where she could be alone.