Reading, writing, arithmetic.
They were the core subjects of a Minnesotan elementary school in the late seventies. She had excelled in them all well into high school and yet, looking down at the packet of papers in front of her, she couldn't seem to remember any of her arithmetic.
Or perhaps arithmetic had been much more difficult back in the day.
Brenda looked over at her nearly one-month old son. Aiden had caused her a restless night with the fear that he had developed colic or some other terrible sickness, one of the many affecting the infant mortality rate. It concerned her that her son may be suffering from an illness carrying a name Brenda may have never heard of, with a treatment left undeveloped until modern medicine.
She needn't have fret, for Aiden rested enveloped in a blissful calm, his attention successfully captured by the sound of the sea.
It was a brief respite in a week of heavy rainfall, and when the sun had begun to peek out, every intact window of the Buckley household had opened.
"I do believe ye have a little sea captain in the making, Bren," said Diolún, holding Aiden out before him. "The wee lad is calmed by nothing but the waves along the coastline."
"I suppose that must have been passed along from me," said Brenda. "Aiden's father is - was - not fond of the sea."
"How can ye not be fond of the sea?" Diolún's face indicated the idea alone was blasphemous. "Did your late husband possess a fear of the sea?"
"He did not," said Brenda. "He simply preferred to watch me enjoy the waves, rather than enter into them himself."
"Did ye spend quite a bit of yer time in the waves?"
Could she tell him about surfing? Was a woman of her status supposed to enjoy surfing in that time period? Did she care?
"Quite a bit," said Brenda. "I danced in the waves. I often visited the sea whilst my sons were still in the womb. It calmed them then, as well."
"Then have ye perhaps reconsidered the idea of joining me? Aiden would make a brilliant first mate." Diolún broke into a series of faces aimed at Aiden, who pursed his lips, raised an eyebrow, and turned his head for a millisecond in Brenda's direction.
She believed that was her son's way of asking for her to agree to Diolún's question.
"I have," she said.
"And?" asked Diolún, his voice laden with hope. Aiden returned to looking at Diolún, clamping onto Diolún's scruff when it drew near.
"And, though Aiden does seem to carry a fondness for the sea, I would rather he not travel by ship whilst he is still so young."
"I understand," said Diolún, though his shoulders deflated.
"But if the offer is still around when Aiden has reached his second birthday," she added, "then I am happy to reopen the subject of joining you in your travels."
Diolún smiled. "The offer is open-ended. Ye are welcome to agree to it at any point ye feel comfortable." He crouched towards the floor, setting Aiden on a blanket for Aiden to play on his tummy. The movement reminded Brenda of a surfer waiting for a wave. "How are yer studies faring?"
"Terribly." Brenda closed her books. "I seem to have forgotten everything I was taught, even the most basic of multiplication. I will undoubtedly make a horrendous teacher."
"That is very much in doubt, as ye have shone in everything ye have attempted," said Diolún. "Did ye hold an occupation in Boston?"
Brenda took a chance and told Diolún of her life as an actress, though she made it seem that the theatre had been in Boston, rather than in London.
"An actress?" Diolún became thoughtful. "Did ye enjoy it, this acting?"
"Immensely. If I am being honest, I would like to return to it one day."
Diolún set down his cup of tea. "Bren, how would ye feel about us leaving Aiden in the care of the Buckleys for the afternoon whilst we go for a jaunt into town?"
"Will we be away long? I've not been apart from Aiden since the morning following his birth, and even then it was not my choice."
"Shouldn't be too long. There is someone I should like to introduce ye to in town who I believe can help with yer job prospects. That is, if ye are truly convinced ye cannot be a teacher."
"I am searching for a job that would allow me to pass most of the day with Aiden and still permit me to work," said Brenda. "If there is another position that allows for this possibility, I would be delighted to hear of it."
"Grand," said Diolún. "Then I will find Nuala, or perhaps Uncail Lucas can mind Aiden until we return." Diolún's hand froze on the table. "My apologies, Brenda; I did not mean to -"
"Uncail Lucas." Brenda smiled and took Diolún's hand. "It is fitting, I think. Lucas is around often enough."
"Yes, but your broth -" Diolún stopped himself from speaking further.
"I wish you would not feel the need for secrecy. There is many a story of my family tree that I do not have recollection of and perhaps never will. I would like for my son to know every member of his family, those that are with us and those that have departed."
"It is not that." Diolún caressed her hand. "Yer brother and I; we held a close kinship. His disappearance was nearly as difficult as my separation from ye."
"Do we have any clues as to his disappearance? His possible whereabouts?"
"Not a one." Diolún stretched out in his chair. Brenda's gaze darted towards his built calves. "As I searched for ye, I searched for him, and had ye not appeared yerself, I'd still be searching for ye both."
Brenda attempted to maintain her composure. "Very well. I will go into town with you, but I do ask that we bring Aiden along. I am not yet prepared to part from him. I do trust both Nuala and Lucas with his care; however…" she trailed off.
"However, as his Ma, ye would like for him to remain by your side." Diolún nodded his understanding. "Then I will ask to use the wagon when Daragh returns, as opposed to our planned trip by horse."
"By horse? We would have gone riding?"
"That was the intention, but we can wait until Aiden is older."
She wished it were possible to safely carry her child and ride a horse, for Brenda did long to climb atop a horse for a gallop through the fields. The wind would claim her hair. The trees would sway their branches in a waltz performed specially for her.
She couldn't wait until Aiden became of the age to ride himself.
If he had inherited her love of the sea, perhaps he had also inherited her love of animals.
Brenda sat next to Diolún on the seat of the wagon, Aiden settled into her front wrap. She had declined Diolún's suggestion that she sit inside the wagon, as the air felt wonderful against her skin.
She pointed out to Aiden a flock of fat lambs blocking a crossing, a giant Celtic cross being driven into the ground by men in tweed caps similar to Diolún's, flannel bottoms barely clinging to a clothesline.
Aiden viewed it all with insatiable curiosity and when Brenda took a break from speaking, Diolún picked up where she left off to continue the descriptions for Aiden.
"You are quickly becoming the person I trust most," said Brenda, blushing as she realized her thoughts had exited her lips.
Diolún turned his head for a flicker of a moment before returning his gaze to the road. "I feel the same," he said. "It is as if the years we were apart are nothing more than a mere dream; or, more accurately, a nightmare."
Except we're still apart, thought Brenda. I from my Dylan, and you from your Troil.
Fecking hell, Brenda, will you quit with the 'your Dylan' shit? God, can't you just get over him already?
And how exactly do you propose I do that when his fucking doppelgänger is sitting right beside me?
With his fucking doppelgänger, of course. Give him an inch and he'll gladly accept it.
Again, he's Troil's. Doing anything with Diolún would be under false pretenses. I can't do that to him. He thinks I'm someone I'm not.
Suit yourself, but we both know you're fooling yourself if you think you can remain single with a man like Diolún wanting to spend his every waking hour with you and your son.
Fuck, I'm the worst wife in the world.
"Yer Ma is lost in her thoughts again," said Diolún, reaching into the wrap to resituate Aiden. "She's not even noticed we have arrived."
Brenda observed the passersby in her old home of Cork city, an observation that brought with it a nostalgia for her old life.
"It's the scenery," she said. "It is difficult to remain focused when we live around scenery such as this."
Diolún agreed and helped her down from the wagon.
Brenda shaded Aiden from the sun, wondering how it could be possible that his skin was faring better in the sunlight than both hers and Connor's. Connor would have surely reddened from the journey alone, and Brenda's nose would have been the first to react poorly to the sun.
She decided it must be easier for babies to avoid sunburns, particularly when their focus rested solely on Diolún McKay.
"Ah, would you lookit here. Diolún McKay playing Da to the child of Brenda Walsham."
Diolún gripped at the bag of oats he had begun to feed the horses after tying them to a post by the area Brenda knew would one day become full of retailers and fast food chains.
"O'Connell," he said. "Do ye not have anything better to do than bother us on this otherwise perfectly fine day?"
"You are Jarlath O'Connell," said Brenda, protectively covering Aiden as she scrutinized the man before her.
When she had first heard the name Jarlath O'Connell, she had pictured a man resembling her ex Stuart Carson, or perhaps even Jim Townsend from her life in Minnesota.
O'Connell looked like neither of those men and instead may have easily caught Val's attention, for he, like Diolún, was quite the looker.
"You remember me?" inquired Jarlath. "I had heard your mind is not up to par."
"I do not," said Brenda. "I have heard of you."
"There is not a thing wrong with Brenda's mind," said Diolún. "One would be quite pleased to forget ye, O'Connell. I myself have endeavored to do so."
"You always were one for the dramatics, McKay," said Jarlath.
"Dramatics?" scoffed Diolún. "It is ye who is responsible for my time apart from Bren! It is ye who prevented me from arriving on time for our voyage. It is ye who has kept me from the knowledge of whether my chi -" Diolún shuddered out a breath that caused a quake of his arms.
"Ah, but you are ignoring the deal we had," said Jarlath, unaffected by Diolún's anger. "You and I would settle the score, and I would not tell the guards who truly killed Father Keating. Missing the ship was but a small price to pay, wouldn't you say?"
Diolún transformed into granite. "Come along, Bren," he said. "Just through that door," he pointed.
"Are you coming?" she asked.
"I'll be behind ye," he said, staring down Jarlath. "Get yourself and Aiden far from O'Connell and his threats."
"Me? Threaten Brenda? What an absurd suggestion," said Jarlath.
"Your mere presence threatens Brenda," said Diolún. "And we both know what you tried to do with Nuala Buckley. I can't imagine Daragh Buckley would be too pleased to hear."
"Are you threatening me, Diolún?"
"Ye may remember that if ye touch any member of my family," said Diolún, "of which ye may count Brenda and ou - her son amongst them, I do not make threats."
Brenda wondered if the murder of Father Keating had to do with her dream the night of Aiden's birth, when she had fallen asleep thinking of the reason of her father's - or, rather, Seamus Walsham's - imprisonment.
She batted her hand against the smoke of the room, missing the comfortability that came with non-smoking sections of the future. As a former smoker herself, she was concerned more with her son inhaling the fumes than the possibility that she might, though Aiden's smooth snores assured Brenda that the smoke had not yet affected his lungs.
"I do apologize," said Diolún, coming up behind her. "Ye may not recall that O'Connell and I have never been on the friendliest of terms."
"I do not," said Brenda, "but it didn't escape my notice that you cannot stand him."
"As I am sure he cannot stand me," said Diolún. "Nor can he stand Lucas, nor Lucas he."
"What did he mean?" asked Brenda. "Regarding Father Keating?"
"Not here," said Diolún. "Ah," he said, scanning the crowd, "there he is."
A stout man with a small bowtie that only emphasized his double chin sent an enthusiastic wave in their direction. "Diolún, lad, what a delight to see you!"
"Hello, Bran. Ye remember Bren?"
"Bran?" Brenda balked at the name. She had not yet become accustomed to her inability to ring Brandon whenever she felt like it, and hearing her brother's nickname stabbed into her soul.
"Bransfield's the name," said the man, "Gavin Bransfield. Diolún prefers to call me Bran, but you my dear, may call me whatever you wish."
"I believe we knew each other," said Brenda, attempting to shake Bransfield's hand without waking Aiden.
"That we did," said Bransfield. "I was an acquaintance of your mother, may the Lord have mercy on her soul. Diolún, what may I do you for?"
"Bren's seeking employment," said Diolún.
"Well, you have come to the right place," said Bransfield. "Have you any experience, Brenda?"
"I've none -" Brenda began.
"She has, though," said Diolún. "On the stage, which she quite enjoys."
Brenda frowned at Diolún's interruption. "I do not expect work on the stage," she said. "I am a new mother who would like to be on hand should my child require anything."
"The stage, you say?" asked Bransfield. "A job that will allow you to be with your child and continue your stage career? Why, ask and Bransfield shall deliver!"
Bransfield said there were three opportunities, the first of which was full-time employment in the city. Brenda shared her preference for remaining in West Cork, with Diolún offering a bit of a smile in return.
By the time Brenda climbed back on the wagon, she had secured a position not only new to her, but also new to the village around the Buckley household.
There were plans to develop a theatre program in their part of West Cork and with Brenda's experience, she had been offered the role of director. For much of the nineteenth century, said Bransfield, actresses had been associated with promiscuity. It was the hope of the Corkonian acting community that the program would change this perspective and perhaps open up the beauty of theatre to the local children.
Brenda was so ecstatic, she had been unable to stop thanking Bransfield and had showered Diolún with an equal gratitude.
"The position is not far from both the Buckley residence and the cabin," said Diolún. "Ye will be close to Aiden, and can visit him throughout the day."
"You are a genius," said Brenda. "I did not expect such a position, as a woman and as a new mother. I could just kiss you for -" Throwing a hand over her mouth, she angled herself to look out at the sea. "Please disregard," she murmured.
"I would not say no," said Diolún softly.
"Would not say no?" asked Brenda.
"If ye chose to show your appreciation with a gesture one may consider leaning towards romantic," said Diolún. "I would not turn ye down."
"I best not," said Brenda, making up an excuse related to her required mourning period.
She knew she somehow needed to find information on Troil's whereabouts, before the temptation to snog Diolún took over her rational reasoning.
Or rather, the temptation to go far beyond snogging.
Aiden looked up at Brenda with an infinite more amount of wisdom in his eyes than one would expect an infant to possess. He had awoken during the meeting with Bransfield and had shared precisely how uncomfortable he had felt in the stranger's presence.
It had puzzled her. Both Brenda and Connor were easily made comfortable in anyone's presence, a necessity for their chosen careers.
Brenda assumed Aiden was too little and would grow out of it as he aged, for even hers and Connor's families welcomed in strangers.
For a moment, Brenda thought the familiar smile that passed over her son's lips came from neither herself, nor Connor Monaghan.
A silly thought, she decided as she returned to detailing to Aiden their surroundings.
Aiden, however, had eyes only for the sea; that is, until his cries began for a change of his cotton terry nappy and Diolún pulled over to offer Brenda a hand in the unfortunate task.
xx
He steeled himself to not glance around at his surroundings, as was his custom when answers escaped him.
He often found those answers with his board in the waves, which he could not visit without leaving Brenda in the lurch.
Dylan flipped through mental family albums, stories told to him by his family, books he had read, television he had watched, even poetry he had heard; something that wouldn't be a lie, yet would also not be the truth.
He imagined telling Brenda of his journey through time. He had already done so the night of Donna's boat crash in a statement Brenda hadn't even paused to dwell upon. Telling her now, insisting upon it, might cause her to believe his story; then, if she believed it, she would question the reason he had chosen to rewind the clock.
Dylan couldn't answer without telling her everything, and telling her everything would undo every bit of progress he had made.
Even more than that, for when it came out that his actions had caused Brenda's showdown with the cliff, she would decide to never speak to him again.
He couldn't have that.
He couldn't lie to her, either.
"Dylan?" Brenda asked. "Dyl, you're taking a really long time to give me an answer. Did you overhear my parents talking about it, or something?"
"No. I didn't hear it from your parents."
"Then who did you hear it from?"
I heard it from Brandon, he wanted to say. When you were in your surfing accident, Brandon called me up on his layover back from Hong Kong with that Tracey person to ask if you were alright because his shoulder had been killing him on the plane. That's when he said that your dad thought you had mono.
Surfing accident? Hong Kong? Tracey? Mono? Brenda would ask. What are you talking about, Dylan?
Baby, he would say, this all happens in the future. I know, because; well, Bren, I'm from the future, and in the future, we don't talk.
Why don't we talk? she would ask, assuming she didn't back away from him to call the psych ward.
Then he would tell her: about K2, about the drugs, about Val, Kelly, and Connor Monaghan.
So you're trying to come between me and a great guy who loves me just because you didn't know how to treat me right until after I wanted nothing to do with you? he feared she would ask.
"Dylan."
"Bren, have I ever told you about Granddad McKay?"
She shook her head.
"Well, when Granddad was a kid, he knew these twins who literally did everything together. I mean, everything. One of them would ache; the other would ache. One of them fell off an awning and broke their leg; the other would feel the effects of a broken leg. Those twins, Bren, were my Granddad's brothers, both of whom died in the war."
"So twins run in your family, too?"
"Skipped a couple generations, but I guess so."
"Great," she groaned. "That just doubles our chance of having twins in the future."
"Then you believe me?"
"Why wouldn't I believe you? It's not like you just made up a story about your family, did you?"
"No, it's true. Granddad did have twin brothers and when I heard Brandon bolted out of the SAT to join your parents at the hospital, I figured you and he must have the twin thing, too."
It was both truth and lie, a combination Dylan seemed to be getting rather good at as of late.
Had he not been contacted regarding the inheritance left to him from his grandparents, Dylan would not have been asked to sort through their belongings and would not have known of his grandfather's twin brothers.
"It wasn't that bad for Brandon then, not like with the cliff," Brenda said as her tension lessened. "He couldn't concentrate and felt a strong pull to join our parents, but there wasn't any pain on his end; probably because I didn't feel anything." She stroked the nape of Dylan's neck. "I don't know what I thought when Val told us that you knew. It just threw me that we might have secrets between us."
Please don't make me say we don't. Don't make me lie to you.
"Although I'm not all that pumped that having kids with you means we're even more likely to have twins," she added.
"We're back on the kid talk?" Dylan took her wrist in his fingers until Brenda clasped his hand. "What does that mean, babe?"
"It means I want us to be together," she said, "but I need us both to understand that with our schedules, our responsibilities and all the things we've decided to take on, we aren't gonna have a whole lot of time for each other."
"So what do you want us to do?" Dylan kissed the inside of her wrist.
"I was kind of hoping that at least for the first month or two of school, we could keep going on the way we've been this summer." Brenda returned to her spot on the blanket, with Dylan quickly following. "Then we can take stock of everything and figure out how to make our relationship work when I'm constantly in rehearsals or working, and when you're working. I also want to give one hundred and twenty percent of my attention to Donna's situation, and to Val's."
"Val's?"
"I think there's something she's not telling us."
"I've gotten that impression, too."
"If you're not okay with any of this -"
"Bren." Dylan kissed her other wrist. "I wanted you to consider the idea of starting junior year together and we are starting junior year together. It might not be as a couple, not yet, but if we start out the new school year half as close as we are right now, then it's the next best thing."
She cupped Dylan's face in her palms. "You're the only one I want to start the new school year with, but -"
"But?" He ran the back of his hand underneath her high ponytail.
"But I did tell Emilio I'd go to dinner with him, just once. It's not a date, I promise. It's a celebratory dinner for how well the play went and I've told him it's not a date. I just don't want anyone to make you think it is."
"I still mean what I said, Bren. If you need to try being in a relationship with someone else before we -"
"I don't." She pressed a kiss to his chin. "I told you I needed to figure out who I am and what I want. I know who I am. I know what I want. It's no longer about that, Dylan. It would be so easy for our lives to revolve around each other. I just want to make sure that they won't when we're fully back together. We both have the Y, and if you're writing the school plays, we'll spend a lot of time together in theatre. I need to concentrate on my studies to get into the programs I'm considering, and you -"
"Need to do the same if I'm going to join you in one of those schools."
"Exactly. But I don't want you to apply to a school just because I might be going to it."
"Okay, then we'll look at your list of universities, figure out which one has an excellent theatre program and an excellent writing program, and then go from there. If we can't find that in the same school, it won't be hard to find it in the same city."
"Are you sure you don't want to stay continental? UCLA has a great writing program. Or there's Columbia or Duke if you wanna go east…"
"Is that your way of backing out on our plan to share an apartment in college, Bren?"
"No. I just don't want you to have any regrets when it comes to us."
"Not possible," said Dylan, not when I already have a fuck ton of regrets about us. "I want us to move to Europe just as much as you do, and I still very much intend to take you there before senior year. When you see all those countries for the first time, Bren; I'd like to be right there, watching you take it all in."
"I want you there, too," she said. "Sure, I'd like to have the others along, but it wouldn't mean as much to me without you." Brenda clasped his hands, swinging their arms through the air. "Can we really do this, Dylan? Can we really spend the rest of our lives with each other, without one of us resenting the other? Shouldn't we explore other options first?"
"You have the opportunity to explore a different option," said Dylan, despite the feeling of being throttled in his ribs at the mere notion. "Do you want to?"
"No. But I think you should."
"Bren, we don't dictate each other's lives, right?"
She sighed. "Right."
"Good, because this is the last time I'm gonna tell you that I have zero interest in being with anyone else. You're it for me, Brenda. I've known that for awhile now, and I want you to realize that isn't gonna change."
Dylan lay back on the blanket, still holding Brenda's hands.
She lay beside him and set her chin on his chest.
"So we aren't dating at present, but can we still do things?" he asked.
"Like what?"
"Like this." He bent his head up to set his lips against the curve of her neck, brushing down a trail towards the boatneck collar of her dress.
"Oh God." She clutched at his back, stuttering out her response. "Yes, feel free to do that whenever you'd like."
"And this?" He paid just as much attention to the other side of her neck.
"If I can do this." Brenda returned the gesture against Dylan's own neck.
"At your convenience," he said.
Brenda's lips moved to suck on his earlobe, which caused Dylan to freeze in place.
Fuck, I wish you could stay in this bed forever with me and keep doing that to my ear, he had said, grasping Brenda's bare hips. No one knows my sweet spot like you do.
I bet you say that to all your hookups, she had said.
The only hookups I want are between me and you, he had said. Stay.
I can't. I'll miss my plane out of Boston.
Don't go back to Cork, he had told her. I'll take you to LA, see the Madster. Or we don't have to go to LA. We can go anywhere. Anywhere you want. Maybe finally see New Zealand together, like we should've done if I hadn't gone to that fucking mountain. Just say the place, and we're there.
I'll call you when I get home, okay? Maybe you can come out and visit.
Bren, I'm scared, he had admitted, ducking his lips into her chest.
Scared of what, baby? She had asked, throwing back her head.
Scared that we'll forget this moment, like we always seem to do. His lips had moved up to her chin. It's been three years since I saw you, and we told each other then that we'd be together, too. We can't when you keep going back to Monaghan.
Dylan, we've had one incredible week in Boston. We aren't gonna forget that.
That's what we said in Chicago, and in Vienna. Then I walk by a newsstand and there you are on a tabloid cover, with him. We always forget, Brenda. I don't want to wait another three years to see you, to hold you. I want to make this official, Bren; make us official, make it permanent. I'll even move to Cork, if you want me to. His hands had roamed over her waistline. His eyes had pinned themselves to her every movement. Just, let me go with you to the airport, please? See you off? Make sure you get onboard alright?
Okay, she had said as she kissed him. I've a layover in Reykjavik. I'll call you the second I land and we can start discussing our next steps forward.
Promise?
More kisses, each one hungrier than the last.
I promise.
She had never called.
He had stepped out the door, into a ferocious storm.
And the next tabloid cover he had seen of her had screamed out the details of her off-white wedding dress.
"What the hell was that?"
"What the hell was what?" asked Brenda, leaning back from his chest in concern.
"Nothing," said Dylan, cupping her elbows. "It's nothing."
It damn well is something. What the fuck? Bren and I were in Boston together? Chicago? Vienna? Making plans? How? When? What do I mean by we always forget? Where the fuck did this come from?
As far as Dylan knew, his trip to Boston had been strictly work-related, with no Brenda Walsh in sight.
The dream…my last dream with Bren on that lake; fuck, what were we talking about and why the hell can't I ever remember one goddamn thing we said!
"It doesn't seem like nothing." Brenda's brows furrowed.
He kissed the crease in her brows. "Just thinking about a work thing, that's all. Speaking of, did I tell you I ran into Scott Scanlon?"
"You forgot to mention that," she said.
"His brother Petey joined the class. Scott thinks his sister might be interested in joining yours."
"Who's his sister?"
"I think he said her name is Sue. Apparently she's been raving about your performance, though she'll need to get in line with your other biggest fans."
"Line; oh, that reminds me. I talked it over with Andrea, and I think I want to return to working the helpline. At least until auditions start, assuming I'll get anything."
"You know how many people watch ABC7, don't you?"
"But that doesn't mean I automatically get the lead. I still have to audition, and I'm still going up against Ruthann. You know how many years it's been since West Bev didn't have a senior in the lead?"
"How many?"
Brenda said there had never been a non-senior in the lead of a West Beverly play.
"So you'll be making history," said Dylan.
"Or making a giant fool of myself," said Brenda.
"Hey, Ruthann said she's glad to have the competition, remember? She thinks of you as her competition, Bren. That's promising."
"I hope you're right."
"Think you can squeeze one more thing into your schedule, maybe twice a year?"
"I think I'll be seeing you more than twice a year, Dylan."
He issued a fake laugh. "You absolutely will," he playfully glowered.
Dylan asked Brenda about reprising her role as Laverne from Queens, saying that the Pit customers had clamored for it.
"Play Laverne once or twice a year? Sure, I'm up for it. If they really want to see me that badly, maybe we can charge an entry fee and give all the money to Nat."
"You, my love, are amazing."
"And your amazing love should probably help you clean up before Mom gets home," said Brenda, scooping up empty dishes. "Curfew sucks; but hey, only two more years of it, right? I think we can make this work."
"We can make this work," said Dylan with certainty. If only their future had been a little more certain before, then perhaps Dylan wouldn't have fought against Brenda's curfew half as much.
Not that he didn't still think the twins' curfew idiotic.
"We already know we'll be all over each other in college," he added, gathering up the silverware. "So you think your mom and Steve's mom hit it off?"
"Maybe. They don't have a thing in common, but Mom's really good about making friends with anyone. And she could use some around here. Bran and I've been noticing how lonely she is with Dad always away on his business trips. But that was the agreement Dad had to make in order for us to stay here."
"Then I'm glad he made it. Think your mom might want a job? Apparently the Popcorn King's hiring for their events department."
"There's a thought, Dylan. I'll mention it to her."
The rest of the week passed in a blur, as the last moments of summer often did. On Dylan's lunch breaks, he stopped into the library near the Y to read up about dreams. His attempts to dream up Brenda, or at least Madeline to ask for a peek through Brenda's Facebook, had yet to succeed and he desperately needed to know what Brenda knew about his memory of her bare ass in a Bostonian hotel.
Dylan knew he had never been in Boston with Brenda.
It couldn't be a memory; but it was, wasn't it?
After work, Dylan was a frequent visitor to Casa Walsh. He offered to drive Val to the airport when she said her reluctant goodbyes. He told Val that if life with her parents became too much for her to handle, she could always crash at Nat's if she didn't want to stay with the Walshes. Val asked what he knew. Dylan lied and said he wasn't aware of anything, but that as a child of a torpedoed home, he could tell when a situation was off and a mask was on.
Then Val's tough exterior slipped for just a moment, and when Dylan saw her through the gate, her shoulders were still shaking.
He went with Donna to discuss Donna's options for removing Felice from her life. He listened as David went on for a mile a minute about Val. He stopped in to the Boys & Girls Club to spend a short break with Scott, where he was introduced to Scott's fellow volunteer: one Jordan Bonner, an incoming junior at Shaw High School with dreams of Yale University.
It hadn't been difficult to pretend to not know Andrea's future ex Jordan Bonner when Dylan realized that he had, in fact, barely known Jordan Bonner.
And, though the Y seemed to be her new favorite place to hang out when Brandon's own coaching job began, Dylan dodged Kelly every time he saw her.
On the Saturday of Steve's party, Dylan was pleasantly surprised to see Brenda appear in the bleachers during Dylan's first coaching lesson.
"Hey, baby." Keeping one eye on the kids kicking about in the pool, Dylan snuck his arms around her waist. "Care to join us?"
"I don't know," said Brenda. "I didn't pay the registration fee and I'm not appropriately dressed for swimming."
"You aren't?" Dylan gathered her legs in his hand.
"Dylan. Dylan, what are you doing? Dylan, stop!" she laughed as he threw her over his shoulder.
"The only reason I'm not throwing you into the pool is because it would be a terrible example for the kids," he said, setting her back down.
"Oh, terrible," she smiled. "Absolutely abysmal. Wouldn't want to get in trouble with the admins so soon into your new job."
Brenda had dropped in primarily to complete her onboarding paperwork. Dylan told her that was simply an excuse to see him.
Cindy had sent along a container of homemade lasagna for Brandon, which the twins and Dylan ate in utter bliss during the boys' lunch break.
Brandon said he had worked out a schedule that would permit him to coach at the Y and return to working at the Pit. Dylan asked if his twins were taking on too much. Brenda appreciated Dylan's concern, and said she and Brandon had often taken on quite a lot in Minnesota. They had only relaxed their schedules somewhat to become adjusted to their new home.
"And I'd say we're adjusted now," said Brandon. "Wouldn't you, Bren?"
"Donna's been staying at our house and Steve's been dropping in almost daily to see her," said Brenda. "I'd say we're well-adjusted."
"Almost daily?" asked Dylan, feeding Brenda a piece of homemade garlic bread. "Think Sanders is taking this big brother role a bit too seriously?"
"I think it's sweet." Brenda chewed thoughtfully. "It gives Donna a chance to talk to someone who's been through it. Apparently, this isn't the first marriage Steve's dad has come between."
Fuck, if I'd tried to come between Brenda and Monaghan the way I wanted to, I'd be no better than Rush Sanders.
But that doesn't mean I wouldn't've tried.
All the relationships I messed with; I was Rush, wasn't I?
"Donna and her mom have been having issues for years," Brenda added. "The affair was just the excuse Donna needed to do something about it. Felice has been verbally abusing Donna, denigrating her at every turn. She even told Don that Don needs to marry rich because she's too stupid to take care of herself, can you believe that? I'm suddenly a lot more grateful for my own mom. Our relationship isn't perfect and never will be, but compared to Felice Martin? Mom's amazing."
"I just don't get why Felice would keep treating her daughter that way," said Brandon as he sipped from his water bottle. "Donna's great. She's not at all stupid. In fact, you give her the right topic and Donna can be incredibly insightful."
Dylan exchanged a raised eyebrow with Brenda before looking at Brandon. "Oh, Donna's great, is she?" asked Dylan in a teasing tone. "Incredibly insightful when given the right topic? You frequently give her the right topic, do you?"
Brandon sighed. "And that's my cue to get back to work. Are we still going to Steve's shindig tonight?"
"Brandon, no one says shindig," said Brenda. "And yeah, I'm planning on it. Steve was disappointed Val couldn't make it."
"Disappointed?" asked Dylan. "Weren't Steve and Val continuously trying to one-up each other with that never-ending East Coast versus West Coast debate? I almost took the East Coast side just to shut Steve up for a second."
"I think we can all agree that the Midwest is best," said Brandon as he packed away tomato-stained containers.
"Speak for yourself," said Brenda. "I like the West Coast just fine."
"Like the West Coast as a whole, or a certain individual born and raised here?" asked Brandon.
"Dyl, do you think Donna would like the Midwest?" asked Brenda, glancing pointedly at Brandon as she spoke.
"You know, Bren, I think she would."
"Oh, whatever, you two. Gonna return to the rink. Make sure you stop making out before the kids get back."
Brenda tossed a piece of bread at Brandon, which caused her brother to duck and laugh.
"I'm guessing making out on the bleachers is not part of our new dynamic," said Dylan.
"I'm not really a making out on the bleachers kind of girl," said Brenda. "Especially in front of kids. The moment we kiss each other again -"
"It's gonna be difficult to tear ourselves away," said Dylan. "I get it. The Y isn't the right place." He looked around and buried his face in her neck. "But the kids aren't here yet."
He spent their remaining time together kissing as much of Brenda's exposed skin as he could, finishing just before his group walked in to continue lessons.
He confirmed with Brenda that he would be the one picking her up for Steve's party, and kissed her forehead before she departed.
Brandon helped Dylan to clean up after the lesson, chatting with him about Ryder Mays, a kid in Brandon's class who Brandon thought had potential as a future Bruins teammate.
Out of all hockey teams, Dylan wondered why Brandon had specifically mentioned a Boston team.
"Don't look now," Dylan muttered under his breath as Brandon helped him carry soiled towels into the laundry. "Kelly's in the hallway and she keeps staring at us."
"She's not too good with rejection, is she?" asked Brandon. "I thought I was too hard on her at the dance, but after the way she talked to Donna? It's taking all I have to not go over there and yell at her."
"Not to mention what she said about Bren," said Dylan.
"What'd she say about Bren?"
"It's not something I want to repeat out loud, but do me a favor?"
"Name it."
"Look out for your sister."
"That bad?"
"I hope not, but Kelly either can't or won't admit that her own actions drove a massive wedge between her and Donna. She blames Valerie and Brenda for allegedly coming between them, so you might want to look out for both your sisters." Dylan paused and added, "You and Bren might want to up your weekly conversations with Val, too."
"Normally, I'd say Val has no problem taking care of herself, but I did notice she was off before she left. Val didn't want to talk about it. She's never been too good with the touchy-feely moments, so I tried to not think too much of it. But she did spend a lot of time with Silver, who Bren pointed out isn't exactly Val's usual type, so I wondered if they were talking about whatever's bothering her. Do you know something I should know?"
"I just have the feeling Val will be back sooner than we think. I invited her to stay with Nat and I if she wants options away from the Walsh curfew."
"You really are a great guy, D."
No, I'm not. If you knew how I've treated your sisters and how I almost killed Donna when I knocked her into the pool, you'd be singing a different tune.
"I'm trying, B."
"Well, that's all we can do. Try."
"Like you, trying to not get drunk at Steve's party?"
"Hey, I'm not touching that stuff. Swear. I've learned to never accept drinks Steve claims are virgin, and Steve's learned that I can't hold my liquor to save my life. Plus, now he knows Bren will tear him apart if he tries."
"I invited Scott."
"Think he'll come?"
"The kid's got a massive crush on Bren. I think he will. Has Silver talked with you about him?"
"He's mentioned his concern, yeah. Another person we need to look out for?"
"Maybe. I don't know. Think you Walsh people are turning me into a Boy Scout, Minnesota."
"What's wrong with that?" asked Brandon. "I had to find my way out of the forest with nothing but a compass during one of our Boy Scout trips, and I'm almost fully convinced I couldn't've helped Bren off that cliff without my Cub Scout training."
"Then God bless the Minneapolis Boy Scouts," said Dylan.
"St. Paul, actually," said Brandon. "I bet Scott was in the Scouts, or at least 4H."
"What makes you say that?"
"The way Silver talks about the things Scott's done. Not a lot of LA boys who've herded cattle."
"Could've been on his uncle's ranch in Oklahoma."
"Could've been."
It baffled Dylan how the Scott that was Petey's older, caring brother who had popped in daily to check on Petey's progress could become the Scott who carelessly played with his father's gun whilst there were children around.
Dylan reminded himself that he couldn't judge Scott, for he had messed with many a gun himself.
Holding a gun on two innocent people who just happened to live in Anthony Marchette's house may have been one of Dylan's biggest regrets.
He couldn't even blame the drugs, though he had been on them at the time. It was the rage that had exploded within him; rage about Brenda, about Manzano, about K2, about Toni's grave being moved.
Something that should have been in his control had been out of his control, just like his breakup with Brenda.
That hadn't been in Dylan's control. It had been in hers.
Helping Scott avoid his morbid fate wasn't in Dylan's control, either. Ensuring the group paid a little closer attention to Scott than they had before; that, Dylan could attempt to control.
"When's Bren's dinner with Reina?" asked Brandon.
"Tomorrow night," said Dylan.
"You okay?"
"'Long as the guy doesn't try to kiss her, yeah, I can handle one dinner. He did encourage her a lot with the play."
"It wasn't so much that Bren needed encouragement as she needed to know her talent was real," said Brandon. "Our teachers always told her she was talented back in Minnesota, but that was in Minnesota. This is Beverly Hills, right in the area known worldwide for its actors. Bren could act in LA, or act on Broadway. I was surprised when you mentioned the West End."
"You didn't think Bren was good enough for the West End?"
"Didn't even cross my mind that she wasn't," said Brandon. "You were just telling that to the brother of the girl who immediately read up on how to become involved with LA's talent agencies when the parentals told us we were moving, and told our entire second grade class of her Broadway dreams. When we were nine, Bren and her old friend Darla talked about running off to join Val in New York. I guess hearing you talk about Bren being a West End star just drove home that she really does want to leave the country, leave me."
"Like it's really that easy to get rid of you, Brando."
"It just threw me for a second. It'll be the first time Bren and I have ever been apart, but I support her in whatever she wants to do and wherever she wants to go. It's not like she'll be in a whole other timeline, right?"
Dylan almost stumbled into the pool.
"You okay, man?" asked Brandon, steadying him.
"Yeah," said Dylan. "I'm good. Floor's a bit slippery."
"Yeah, better be careful. Anyway, speaking of going," said Brandon, "gotta head out. Told Donna I'd bring her to the party."
"You're bringing Donna to the party?"
"Don't start," said Brandon. "You're bringing Bren, and Steve's too busy getting everything ready for, what did he call it? The Summer Blowout of a Century?"
"Sounds about right."
"Don's without a car 'cause of this whole mess with Felice. I'm picking up Silver as well, so don't think too much of it."
"Right," said Dylan.
He finished organizing his materials for Tuesday's lesson, wishing he could pass Monday at the Y instead of at school.
He turned to head into the lockers to change when two hands slid over his eyes.
Dylan smiled, and then frowned as he realized those hands felt nothing like Brenda's.
He removed the hands from his face, glancing down at the gold bracelet he knew didn't belong to Brenda.
"Kelly, what do you want?" he said, without facing her.
Kelly jumped into his line of vision. "I just wanted to make sure we're good and all that nonsense is behind us before we start the new school year."
"All that nonsense?" Dylan repeated incredulously. "You mean, the part where you made the girl I love out to be some horrible person who's trying to steal your life? That nonsense?
"The girl you love," said Kelly with a suspicious smile. "Right."
"Look, Kelly," said Dylan, "I don't have time for your games. Just spit out what you're trying to say, or better yet, how 'bout you come back when you've had a personality change to return to the person we all still liked in middle school, or even earlier this year?"
"How sweet. You actually think I've changed. You're about to find out what happens when you cross me. Do you remember Zosha Blake?"
"Who?"
"Ask Zosha what happened when she tried to take Donna from me."
"I don't even know a Zosha Blake and Donna isn't something that can just be taken. She's a human being, Kelly, with real feelings that you hurt."
"Well, Donna hurt my feelings when she chose to side with Valerie Malone and my ex-BFF Brenda over me, her oldest friend."
"I don't think you even know the meaning."
"Speaking of meaning. Your mom, Dylan; is it true what people say about her being big into dream interpretation?"
"I guess."
"Then tell me, what would she have to say about my latest dream?"
"I don't know, Kelly. Ask someone who cares."
"Oh, I think you care, Dylan. I think you care a lot."
"What is that supposed to mean?"
"It means that you, Brandon, and Steve can all claim you're done with me, but I know better. I can easily make life miserable for any girl who decides to date either of them, but I don't have to do that with yours, do I?"
"Leave Brenda alone, Kelly," said Dylan through clenched teeth. "You don't even want Steve. You just don't want anyone else to have him."
"How I feel or don't feel about Steve is my business, Dylan. As for Brenda; well, I don't need to do anything to her. She will figure it out, all on her own."
"What the hell are you on about? Figure what out?" asked Dylan, now fighting a headache. "You know what; on second thought, don't tell me. Bren and I are solid and nothing you do can break us." He began to walk away.
"You're solid until Brenda figures out how you like your Christmas cookies decorated - yellow frosting, isn't it? - because you're in trouble with the Celtics now." Kelly's words rooted Dylan to the floor, allowing her to sweep her lips over his cheek. "Oopsie," she giggled, "guess my lipstick does wear off. And, oh, Anteros says hi, whatever that means."
Gaping after Kelly as she skipped away, Dylan furiously rubbed at his cheek and then turned to kick a noodle into the pool.
Just when he had begun liking pools again.
-x
Thank you, Crystal!
You may recognise the line Dylan tells Brandon from the nineteenth episode of season three. It's a beautiful line that's tarnished by the context; thus, I stole it for this chapter to use in a different context.
In researching the diaper vs. nappy situation in 19th century Ireland, I learnt that diaper and nappy were two different objects formed from completely different materials. Therefore, despite Itero being written in US English, Aiden is in a nappy.
As always, thanks a million for the readership, reviews, follows, favourites, alerts, discourse, plot ideas, etc. Stay healthy and safe out there. x
A note about offline matters; pass along if you wish, as I did wrestle with sharing this: If you enjoy these stories/vids/graphics/etc, have the means to be able to do so and would like to contribute a small amount to my travels so that I may continue to acquire firsthand knowledge of the places I write Dylan and Brenda into, I do have a tip jar on the ko-fi website, under redrosapril. (If you are aware of anywhere in the US looking for a remote, freelance writer/editor/researcher to work on the weekends and evenings in-between the regular M-F job, a private message about it would be greatly appreciated! If you have a commission in mind, I am open to discussion. I'm afraid my finances have taken more of a hit this year than expected, due to my roommate's ongoing financial difficulties.) Thank you to those of you who chose to read this note.
Until next time.