Fate
Chapter Two
Slappy had been standing in the kitchen for the past twenty minutes, replaying the message over and over. Not only was her sister dead but her nephew was now waiting to be picked up. Of course a large decision had to be made upon learning this information, one that would drastically affect everything. Slappy had never been close to her sister. From birth they couldn't have been more different, and time only managed to strain their already fragile relationship. It was bad long before the death of their mother, but that was the event that severed the relationship. The older sister had not attended the funeral, stating that their mother wouldn't have wanted her there, and the younger sister was unable to view it from any perspective but her own. Slappy was painted as someone of pure selfishness with a heart of coal, and that was now the last thing her sister would ever tell her.
Slappy had now outlived most of her family, sharing the weight of carrying on the family name with her nephew, one she'd never met or seen outside of a few photos. She should have called the woman back and told them to pack his bags, that she'd be there in a couple of hours to pick the kid up and whisk him away, but she couldn't. Instead she was forced to the kitchen chair, feeling a sensation she was unfamiliar with: fear. Yes, as his aunt she had an obligation to rush to his rescue. But she was horrible around kids, as unbelievable as that sounded about a cartoon star. She was used to parent calling to complain, to say she was too violent and leaving too big of an influence on their kids. The squirrel could care less about that though, always stating that the kids' faults were on their parents and guardians.
That led to the next reason why she shouldn't take the kid in. Her life could be summed up in very few words, and most of them were just synonyms of each other. There was dangerous, reckless, carefree, and most of all there was irresponsibility. She had grown use to only taking care of herself, having forgotten what family felt like. She was a lousy cook, a horrible housekeeper, rude, attracted to danger, and not very good with her emotions. Did any of that equal quality parenting? The kid would probably be better off living with someone else, a nice family with a large yard and plenty of toys to keep him occupied. Her gift to him would be to never meet the aunt his mother had good reasons to hide from him. It wasn't entirely selfish though, and that's what she kept telling herself as she sped out the house without the intention of calling them back.
Winter in California was no different from fall, spring, or summer. No one could ever tell exactly when the season changed and frankly nobody cared, the only thing that seemed to change were the shops and the trends. The sun had set but the temperatures and attitudes, which should have been included on the aforementioned list of things that never changed, remained the same. Driving down the streets, one had to be prepared for extended fingers held out car windows, language that'd make George Carlin blush, and drivers that were practically trying to kill you just so they could get home a little faster. And for all those reasons Slappy loved this city. Anywhere else and she'd be told she had an anger problem, but here in Burbank she was just another ordinary citizen, albeit one who could store a good two tons of explosives in her purse. It really was the only place she'd ever felt comfortable. Her own hostile and homicidal slice of paradise, except today there was no comfort to be had in driving through the intersection like a maniac, or hearing the orchestra of horns and curses ring out in the distance.
She stopped outside an apartment building with her car parked half on the front lawn and half in the road. The squirrel slammed the car door shut and nearly ran into the lobby, shoving a few bystanders out of her way as she did so. She dashed past the reception desk and to the elevator, pressing the pale white button by its steel doors about a dozen times in rapid succession. Her foot tapped at the floor in a steady beat, unsatisfied with the lack of motion. After a few seconds of waiting she ran to the stairs, her heart beating like a piston. Slappy Squirrel wasn't one to freak out, often the picture of calm and collected, but those few instances where she did have a breakdown she always ran to the same person: her closest and dearest friend Walter Wolf. It sounded pathetic calling the very person she'd consistently caused bodily harm to her closest friend, not to mention crazy, but the honest truth was they got along quite well.
Walter, dressed in a long white nightshirt and matching cap, groaned and mumbled as he shuffled to the door. He was almost asleep when the loud knocking began to echo through his apartment, and it was less than enjoyable to have to be separated from his warm and cozy bed. "Hold your horses you mishugina!" he shouted as he fiddled with the locks, cursing them under his breath with every fumble. He opened the door and found Slappy, a hand in her purse, no doubt trying to find a mallet. "Do you know what time it is?" he asked, expecting the usual smart-aleck response. Much to his surprise she had no reply, just heavy breathing as she shoved her way inside. "Slappy, you okay?" Slappy's breath finally seemed to catch up with her and her heart stopped from beating out of her chest, allowing her to give Walter a frantic explanation. "So are you going to go get him?" the wolf questioned when she finished. The squirrel was amazed with how calm her friend remained, envying how not one glimpse of panic had flashed across his face the entire time she was talking.
"I . . . I can't." She stuttered, leaning forward on the green couch. "I mean what am I supposed to do with a kid?"
"Play, have fun, be childish?" the wolf suggested, taking a sip from the tea he'd made before setting the cup back on the coffee table. "So no big change, huh?"
"Yeah, but I'm also irresponsible and reckless. You think that'd be good for a kid to be around?" Walter nearly did a spit take, unaware that the squirrel could acknowledge her shortcomings. Slappy was very prideful and in the twenty plus years he'd known her she never admitted to being anything but amazing. He suddenly had a good grip of how stressed the squirrel really was and scooted closer to her on the couch, placing a hand on her shoulder.
"I bet it's better than being all alone, which is what he is right now. His mom, your sister, just died. Can you honestly say he'd be better off getting sent to an orphanage than he would be with you?" he asked. Slappy opened her mouth, prepared to say she did feel that way. An orphanage could look after and provide for the kid way more efficiently than she could, but the more she thought about it the less sure she was. Skippy stood a much better chance if he stayed with her than he would on his own at an orphanage. He had a better chance of getting through this if he had some family to lean on versus an army of strangers, as much as it killed her to admit it. "Listen, why don't you take him in for a few days, at least until some other options come along?" he suggested.
"It's a kid, you can't lease them out." Slappy chuckled, leaning her head back against the couch and staring at the fan blades as they swung around and around.
"My sister took in a girl once, they got along horribly. Still, they did love each other deep down. After about two weeks she found a nice foster family, but she still sends birthday cards." Slappy looked at him with wide eyes, intrigued by the idea. The wolf knew he had her; the only thing that remained was to go in for the kill and hope for the best. "Besides, don't you think you owe it to your sister to look after her son, even if it's only for a week or two?"
"You had to throw in a guilt trip, didn't ya?" she sighed and rubbed at her forehead. The wolf nodded, a smirk painted on his snout. "Do you really think I could do it, look after a kid?" she questioned. He nodded, somehow managing to numb the fluttering sensation in her stomach when even the violence of California traffic could not. It was moments like this when Slappy really valued her friendship with the guy, and she did her best to vocalize it. "Ah, what do you know?" she swatted at the air and rose from the couch, stretching. "Alright, maybe I'll call them back and tell them I'll look after him for a while." She begrudgingly thanked him for listening, as she usually did after one of their late night conversations, and walked to the door.
"Who knows, you might actually take a liking to the kid and keep him around." Walter said, grabbing the two cups from the coffee table and taking them into the kitchen.
She laughed, "Yeah, that'll be the day. I'll talk to ya soon Walter, tell ya what I decided to do." She gently closed the door and walked to the elevator, the sounds of locks being turned echoing from Walter's door down the hall as she pushed a button. Slappy hadn't known what she was expecting to gain from the wolf's company, but it certainly didn't end with her being talked into taking the kid. She figured he'd offer up some useless advice and a personal story, both of which he still did, but not for it to win her over. It was bizarre that when it came to Walter she could predict every one of his traps, but a few encouraging words strung together managed to catch her by surprise. Now she was actually thinking of taking in some stranger, to feed and look after as if he were her own? If Slappy didn't know any better she would have believed Walter casted some sort of spell on her, something to help persuade her into helping out the nephew she knew very little of. Maybe the tea was laced with some hypnotizing drug?
The elevator doors opened and the squirrel stepped inside, relived to find she had the thing to herself. She pressed the button for the ground floor and leaned back against the wall, groaning in exasperation. Her head felt like it had been put in a vice, and every passing minute it was being squeezed tighter and tighter. The annoying music being played overhead wasn't helping much either and if her head wasn't so clouded she'd smash the loudspeaker it was coming from. A bell dinged and the doors slid open to the lobby, almost entirely deserted now save for the receptionist seated behind her desk and a woman sitting on a sofa in the waiting area. Slappy left the building, marched through the streetlamp lit parking lot, hopped in her horribly parked car with a new yellow ticket placed on the windshield and sat there in the dark. She continued to loiter for ten minutes, changing her mind over and over and over again. Go pick the kid up? Leave him there? Go pick the kid up? Leave him there? Each side kept presenting its pros and cons and every time Slappy started to lean in favor of one option the other, fueled by guilt or practicality, beckoned for her to reconsider.
As tough as she knew she was, there was no chance she could forsake the kid and pretend everything would be alright for him. In the end it was obvious what she had to do: take the boy in until he had a proper place to live and responsible parents to look after him. Slappy started the car and turned the radio as loud as it could go, hoping to silence the thoughts and doubts raging in her head. While Walter was always available for her, the traffic of rush hour wasn't, especially not on a Tuesday night. She drove back home, intent on calling the woman back and making arrangements for Skippy to stay with her, at least until they could find him a better foster family. Sadly that decision started to slip yet again as she pulled into the driveway of her home and she started looking for excuses to put off picking up the phone.
Slappy looked over the spare room of her tree. Despite having a bed and fireplace she'd only ever used it for storage, placing box after box in the corners until that was the only purpose it could serve. Now it had to be cleaned, unless she planned on forcing Skippy to sleep on the couch, and with all the work that'd have to be done she was beginning to consider it. With an iron-will she began to drag the boxes out until the bed and dresser were the only things left, and she dreaded when it was officially finished. She then moved on to vacuum the carpet, then threw the blue blankets and pillows into the wash, and then cleaned the fire pokers. She continued until the room was spotless and without a doubt the cleanest thing in her entire home. Slappy sat on the edge of the bed, aware that there was no putting off the inevitable and that if she cleaned the room any more the wood would likely rot. She sighed and summoned all her courage to walk downstairs and pick up the phone.
Skippy sat in the woman's office yet again, only this time his emotions weren't as easy to label. Slappy, the aunt he'd learned of only yesterday, had called them back and said that she would take him in until a foster family had been found. Clearly Linda was expecting relief and gratefulness, but why? He was still motherless, was still being taken to a temporary home, and now that was only until they could find another temporary home. He was being passed around like some unwanted little nuisance and she thought that deserved a smile and hoorah? It was enough to make the young squirrel question the sanity of whoever gave her this job. "She'll be here later today to pick you up. Are you going to be alright until then?" she asked.
"Why change things now," he muttered, resting his head in the palm of his hand. "Can I head back to that room now?"
"Sure, do you want me to walk you back?" she asked, her hands pressed against the desk in preparation to stand up.
Skippy jumped out of the chair and turned to the door, eager to get out of that office, the memories and tears shed in that area too fresh to stomach. "I think I can find my way back on my own." She let out a nervous chuckle and returned to her work. The young squirrel opened the wooden door and walked down the hall, clearly in no hurry to get back to that awful excuse of a room. Too bad it was the only place he had to go. So his aunt was now coming to fetch and drag him back to Burbank, but not for the long run. She was going to pass him off the second her guilt allowed her to, and more than likely never look back. The thought was infuriating and the brown squirrel found a familiar emotion rising up inside him. Skippy stopped outside the door to his room and slapped his hand against the wall, trying to ventilate his anger before he exploded. He opened the door and slammed it shut behind him, finding it did little to release any stress.
Skippy sat on the edge of the chair under the television, almost hoping it'd fall on his head and crush him to death. He dragged his hands down his face and bumped his fist together, counting to ten and holding his breath and trying every other relaxation technique he had been taught. None of it worked, and that only made him angrier. The irony of that did calm him a bit, but not enough to ease how white his knuckles were. He bumped his fist together and glanced around the room, spotting only the couch and a few beat-up toys. The squirrel wondered if others in his position were the causes for the bumps and welt to those toys, if some boy had smashed the car or some little girl had thrown the dollhouse against the wall. He was about to rise and work out his hostility on the toys as well, until something better presented itself.
A large sound of applause rang out from the television, as if it wanted his attention. It struck him that he'd be leaving soon and that the television was indeed a breakable object, which offered up such nice potential. Of course slamming his fist against it would have little effect, but there was that one little thing he had yet to properly use. He sneered and reached behind his back, searching for the solution to his problems. He found it easily: a trusty mallet whose origins he couldn't explain. Sure, he could use it on the cars and dolls, but that just didn't sound as appealing, and wouldn't it be criminal if he didn't use his abilities properly? With no hesitation Skippy took a step back and swung the mallet. The screen shattered and rained shards of glass and sparks down on him and the carpet. The squirrel took another few steps back, brushing a few tiny bits of glass from out of his fur and trying to pick his jaw off the floor.
A second passed until he regained control of his body and, telling himself that he was already too far to stop, continued to slam his hammer into the broken electronic. He gained more force and momentum with each swing, losing himself in a pattern. There was only one thing going through his head, one small command: swing harder. The crunching and breaking of plastic turned to white noise as he finished with the television. The activity was one of the most enjoyable thing he'd done over the past few days and he was sad to see it finished. But a new feeling had crept out of the darkness, one he hadn't felt in days: calm. His mind was cleared of every single thought and fear, leaving nothing but relief and tranquility. Skippy let out a deep breath, one that seemed to take a good deal of weight off his shoulder, and slumped into the couch, fist wrapped around the handle of his destructive little friend. He could hear the beating of his heart and cherished its soothing rhythm until it faded back into silence. He placed his hand behind his back and felt his grip on the sleek wood disappear, confirming that his hand was now empty. He'd never felt such release like that, never truly gave into the rage, but it was something he was desperate to try again soon.
A/N: Sorry for the shorter chapter, but I felt this was a nice place to end off on.