Chapter 3
There Yang stood, face-to-face with the bitch who had cost her her job. The punch she had thrown the night before may have been a good one, but today's would be even better. Then something entirely unexpected happened. "I'm so very sorry." Winter said. She reached out, shoving a wad of cash in front of Yang. With one look Yang could tell it was several thousand dollars. "Here, take this."
"Huh?" Yang said. She let her hands relax. "What is this?"
"I'm sorry you lost your job because of me." Winter said. "My actions last night were disgraceful." She sighed and looked at the floor. "I just haven't been myself since my sister died."
"Your sister?" Yang asked.
"Mmhmm." Winter confirmed, her gaze still cast downward. "Car accident."
"I understand." Yang said. She pushed Winter's hand - the one holding the cash - away. Yang could see the pain etched into her face.
"Do you?" Winter asked.
"My sister passed a few months ago." Yang explained. "Cancer."
"Oh." Winter sighed.
"Hey...why don't you come in?" Yang offered. "We can talk over some breakfast."
"I don't wish to impose anymore than I already have." Winter said.
"You're not." Yang assured her.
"Also, it's two in the afternoon." Winter said.
"Is it?" Yang asked with an uneasy laugh. "I guess working nights messes with my sense of time."
"I know the feeling." Winter said.
"Still, I make a mean pancake." Yang said.
"I'll pass, thank you." Winter said.
"Aw." Yang sighed.
Winter did not want to leave on a sad note. "But tea would be appreciated." She said.
"That I can handle." Yang said with a smile.
"Are you sure?" Winter asked.
"Almost positive." Yang said. "Now get in here."
Winter followed Yang into her apartment. It was small, spartan and full of beat-up and mismatched furniture. Yang led Winter over to what qualified as the kitchen, a small stove and some cabinets. The ingredients for pancakes were already laid out. Yang went searching for some tea bags. Winter sat in one of the obviously second-hand wooden chairs beside the table. The table itself had a 2x4 in place of one of its legs. What would qualify as the living room was a mix of colors with several stained and torn chairs and couches. The place had a comfortable feel about it, but the rundown nature was a bit alarming and Winter wondered how anyone could live in such an apartment. Still, she found the utilitarian chaos intriguing, almost liberating.
Winter wanted to be polite but found the apartment hard to praise. She searched for anything to compliment. She spotted a painting hung crookedly on the wall. It was far nicer than anything else in the apartment. "That painting is beautiful." Winter said.
Yang glanced away from the cabinets to look at it. She smiled sadly. "Ruby would appreciate that." She said. She tossed a box of teabags aside and started filling a kettle with water.
"Ruby?" Winter asked.
"Yep." Yang sighed. She put the kettle on the stove then turned around, looking at Winter. "That's a nice bracelet."
"It was Weiss' favorite necklace." Winter said.
Yang paused and looked Winter in the eyes. She saw profound sadness. "She had good taste." Yang said.
"She did." Winter confirmed.
The depressing turn the conversation had taken led to an awkward silence. Yang went back to making her pancakes. Winter returned to looking around the apartment. At least it was fairly clean. Well, clean in most senses. The upholstery that covered some of the furniture was disgustingly stained, but what could be cleaned clearly was. Still, the ceiling had worrying water spots and some of the wallpaper was beginning to separate from the walls. There was hardly any technology, not even a clock, just a tiny ancient television set. Winter could not see into any of the adjacent rooms, but she shuddered at the thought of what horrors they might hold.
Winter took a look at Yang. Conveniently she had her back turned so there would be no awkward questions. Aside from being well-endowed she was in good shape. Even in its disheveled state her long hair was quite impressive, reaching the base of her back. Her right arm was covered in a full sleeve of tattoos, a dragon wrapped around her arm with roses sprouting from it. The symbolism was lost on Winter but it was quite beautiful. Winter could not imagine how someone so attractive could end up with such horrible living conditions.
"Your name's Yang, right?" Winter asked. Yang nodded in confirmation. "Well...Yang...are you comfortable?"
"What do you mean?" Yang asked.
"I mean...uh…" Winter was struggling to find a way to phrase her question that would not result in a punch. "I mean here. Do you like living here?"
"I've lived in worse." Yang shrugged.
"How?" Winter gasped.
"You've never slummed it, have you?" Yang laughed.
"Slummed it?" Winter asked.
"Oh boy, sheltered rich girl huh?" Yang said. She paused for a moment. "You know, you never told me your name."
"Winter." Winter replied.
"Winter?" Yang asked.
"Schnee." Winter answered.
"Schnee?" Yang gasped. "As in Schnee Development Corporation?!"
"Yes." Winter confirmed.
"Holy shit!" Yang exclaimed. "The cash makes sense now."
"I just wanted to help." Winter said.
"Well, let me help you understand my situation." Yang said.
"I didn't wish to offend." Winter said. She suddenly found herself on the defensive.
"You didn't." Yang said. "You just need to understand that most people have a much lower standard of living than you."
"I know that." Winter said. "I just...haven't really...God I don't want to sound ignorant."
"Winter, you are ignorant." Yang said. "But that's okay. You were born with a silver spoon in your mouth. I can forgive that. At least you have the awareness to realize your ignorance."
"I just...didn't know people lived like this...this...desperately." Winter struggled. "No one deserves this. It wasn't always this bad for you, was it?"
"No, it wasn't." Yang confirmed. "I used to live in a nice house, not a mansion, but a big enough house."
"What happened?" Winter asked.
"Cancer is expensive." Yang replied. "I spent every penny I had on my sister's treatments. Then I spent all the money I'd put away from my father's life insurance. It still wasn't enough so I sold the house. That wasn't enough so I got the job as a bouncer. Even with all that I'm still paying for it."
"That's terrible." Winter gasped.
"Life sucks Winter, for some more than others." Yang sighed. "We do what we can and live to the best of our ability regardless."
"But…" Winter tried to protest.
"I'm not the only poor person with no job and more bills than I could ever hope to pay." Yang cut her off.
"The no job part is my fault." Winter sighed.
"You're not the first person I've been too rough with." Yang admitted. "I'm not blameless in this."
"Come live with me." Winter blurted out.
"What?" Yang asked.
"Just until you get a job." Winter said. "It's the least I can do."
"That's a little forward." Yang laughed. "Shouldn't you take me to dinner first?"
"If you want I'll take you anywhere." Winter said. "My treat. Get anything you want."
"Oh Winter, you're precious." Yang said.
"What...oh." Winter said, realizing the joke.
"You're sweet but moving in is a big deal." Yang said. "We hardly know each other." Yang belatedly noticed how Winter was fiddling with the pendant on her wrist. Had she been doing it the entire time?
"There's plenty of room." Winter continued her pitch. You wouldn't have to worry about intruding. Just until you get back on your feet. You won't have to worry about rent or food. Please, let me help you."
Yang looked Winter in the eyes. She saw someone trying to atone, and not just for what had happened the night before. No, there was far more to it than that. "Okay Winter, I'll make you a deal." Yang said.
"Anything." Winter said.
"I'll let you help me if you let me help you." Yang continued. "I'll consider moving in with you if you come to a group therapy session with me."
"W-what?" Winter stammered.
Yang pulled a plastic yellow wallet out of her pocket. It looked fairly new but very cheap. She pulled out a business card and handed it to Winter. "A while back my uncle showed up for a visit." Yang explained. "He helped me out a bit, gave me some cash. When I said I've lived in worse I wasn't kidding. But the biggest help he gave me was convincing me I needed help. He told me about a therapist who helped him when he had PTSD. I gave it a shot, and it didn't go well at first, but she invited me to the group to see if that would work better. I was a bit scared in the beginning, but everyone opened up and told their stories, and that got me to open up too. It helped, having people to relate to, people who understood what I was going through. I've gone every week since. The next meeting is tonight."
"You want me to go and tell everyone about my sister's death?" Winter asked, her voice shaking with worry.
"That's up to you Winter." Yang said with a shrug. "I was in your shoes, and I wasn't at all comfortable with the idea, but trust me, you'll feel differently once you're there. If it helps, I'll be with you every step of the way."
"And if it doesn't help?" Winter asked. "If I can't open up? Then what?"
"You don't have to go again, and I'll still consider your offer." Yang replied. "I just want you to consider mine."
Winter thought for a moment. "I'll go." She declared. "But I can't promise more than that."
"That's all I'm asking." Yang said. She finished up making the pancakes, stacking them on a large plate. "Now, are you sure you don't want any pancakes?"
"Whoa, that's a lot of pancakes." Winter said, looking at the towering stack of fluffy golden-brown discs.
"Yeah...I spent years cooking for two and sometimes I just end up on autopilot." Yang laughed.
"I suppose I'll try a few." Winter said.
Yang smiled. "That's the spirit!"
Yang walked to the door. Just beyond the group therapy session was about to get underway. Glynda would usually wait for everyone to arrive before getting started, but Yang and Winter were already a little late. Winter stopped a few steps away. "Yang...I'm not sure I'm ready." Winter admitted.
"Neither was I the first time." Yang encouraged. "Come on, you've made it this far. Don't turn back now." Yang reached out her hand and looked Winter in the eyes.
Winter saw that she had two choices. She could head back down the stairs and keep running from her pain, or she could follow Yang into the room and start to face it. She knew the latter was the healthier option, but was also well aware that it was the more painful, at least in the short-term. She took a deep breath. "You're right." Winter said. "Lead on." She took Yang's hand.
Yang opened the door to reveal a rather spacious room. In the center was a semi-circular group of chairs, with more chairs stacked up off to the side. Nearby was a table with various refreshments. One chair, occupied by an older blonde woman, was facing in the opposite direction of the others. "Good evening Yang." The woman said. If she was annoyed by Yang's tardiness she did not show it.
"Hey, Glynda, I brought a plus one if that's alright." Yang said.
"That's perfectly alright." Glynda said. "All are welcome here. Hello miss?"
"Winter." Yang said.
"Welcome Winter, I'm Dr. Goodwitch." Glynda said. "But you can call me Glynda. Pull up a chair and we'll get started. Yang grabbed a pair of chairs off the stack and set them up on the edge of the semicircle. Glynda shifted her position to adjust to the updated configuration. "Just a few ground rules. There is no judgement, nothing said here leaves the room, and all participation is strictly voluntary. If at any point you feel uncomfortable, just say so." She glanced over toward the rest of the group, four women and one man. "You know how this works. Since we have a new member we'll go around, introduce ourselves and explain how we got here. Before we start, Winter, do you have any questions?"
"No ma'am." Winter said.
"I'll start us off." Glynda said. She adjusted her glasses. "As I've already said, I'm Dr. Glynda Goodwitch. I'm a psychologist and founded this group to help those dealing with the loss of a loved one. But enough business.
"Years ago I was a schoolteacher. My husband, James, was a soldier, a Colonel in Vale's army. We had been married for about 10 years when he was seriously wounded in an IED attack on his convoy. He lost his right arm and leg, was left paralyzed from the neck down, and suffered serious head trauma. When I was first informed I was shocked. As such a high-ranking officer he did not participate in combat operations, and I never thought something like this could happen to him.
"I was terrified that he might die, and I was relieved when I was told he would live. In the next few months I came to wish he had died. He was left helpless, and not just from the paralysis. His mental capacity was severely diminished, somewhere on the level of an infant. My school's headmaster was kind enough to give me time off to take care of James, and I spent almost a year taking care of him. It was difficult, seeing someone I had loved so much in that state. Sometimes, when he would smile at me, I could almost believe that somewhere in there, the James I had married still lived, but in truth, he was long gone.
"About a year after he was wounded he finally died from the complications. The problem was I wasn't sad. I was relieved. At first I was able to tell myself I was relieved because his suffering was over, but then I began to wonder if it was really because my suffering was over. I started to hate myself. I couldn't deal with the things I was feeling, so I started taking narcotics. Due to a mix-up, James had been prescribed powerful painkillers even though his spinal injury meant he felt no pain from his wounds. I ended up with a year's supply of some of the most potent painkillers on the market, and I started using them. Before I knew it I was addicted.
"One day I looked myself in the mirror and thought about what my life had become. I thought about the person I had turned into and I realized how disappointed James would have been. I decided there was no point in going forward. I opened up a fresh bottle of the painkillers and consumed the contents. Only after I had done it did I realize that I didn't want to die. I called an ambulance and induced vomiting as best I could. The doctors saved my life, but even then I wasn't sure if that was a good thing.
"While I was recovering in the hospital, the headmaster of my school came to visit. He was an older man named Ozpin, and he'd always been very supportive. He encouraged me to get the help I needed. I started therapy and eventually I was able to work out most of my problems. I was able to come to terms with what had happened. Rather than go back to teaching, I decided I wanted to help people who were suffering the same way I had. I went back to school, trained as a psychologist, and here I am. I've dedicated my life to making sure no one has to go through what I went through." She took a deep breath and pulled a handkerchief from her pocket. She wiped away a few stray tears before replacing it. "Alright then. Pyrrha, go ahead."
"Alright." The tall redhead to Glynda's immediate right said. "I'm Pyrrha Nikos, Dr. Goodwitch's assistant. I act as her secretary and if patients need special care, like home visits or medication reminders, I usually handle that. I'm currently attending the University of Vale and assuming all goes well, I'll earn my doctorate in psychology in the spring." She looked a bit uneasy. "Unlike the others, I didn't lose someone. It's more like I found myself. I might be the first person Glynda helped as a psychologist."
"Stop, you're too kind." Glynda said.
"It's true though." Pyrrha insisted. "I met Dr. Goodwitch during my second semester as an undergraduate. She had to take some prerequisite courses before starting her doctoral program, and we ended up in a lot of the same classes. We both happened to be having difficulty with our housing situation at the time, so we shared an apartment. The reason for my housing trouble was a relationship I was in. I had been dating my boyfriend at the time for a few months, and he said he would move into an apartment with me. But when I rented the place, he backed out. I couldn't afford it on my own, so Glynda moved in to help share the cost. When I explained the situation she kept pushing the issue of my relationship.
"My boyfriend was a very nice guy, and I'm sure he cared about me, but there were problems. He had trouble with commitment, wasn't exactly reliable, and he could never bring himself to say 'I love you' even long after I had. We had been dating for months but we still hadn't even gotten past the basics. Glynda convinced me the relationship was a dead-end. After all, as nice as he was, would I really feel comfortable starting a family with someone like him? I've always had trouble with falling in love with the wrong people..."
"I think that's enough about your love life." Glynda suggested.
"Right, sorry." Pyrrha apologized. "Anyway, Dr. Goodwitch became something of a mentor to me. Even after she completed her doctorate we shared an apartment for a while, just until I could afford my own place. When she started her practice she brought me on as her assistant. I guess I'm something like a paid intern." She turned her focus to Winter. "I'll give you my cell number. If you want I can schedule you for a normal session with Dr. Goodwitch. If you need anything else I'd be happy to help you with that too."
"Thank you." Winter said.
"Okay, Velvet, you have the floor." Glynda said, gesturing toward the petite and meek-looking brunette beside Pyrrha.
Velvet took a deep breath and closed her eyes. When she opened them her face displayed a steely expression of calm.