Thanks for the reviews :) no, there is no relenting in the sheer misery this story has to offer in this chapter, or the next one. Chapter 7, you get something a bit nicer but... hang in there for Chapter 8 and 9, and then it call goes to pot in Chapters 10 and 11.

Wednesday, July 19th 1994

Despite the coffee, somehow, Madison slept. It was an uncomfortable sleep, wedged semi-upright on the never-comfortable trailer sofa, but there was no doubting that she had indeed slept. Blinking in the morning sunshine creeping through the threadbare curtains, she wished she'd slept longer.

Just like John. The space he'd occupied last night had mingled more and more with her own, until there had only been the tiniest gap between them. Even as it had been happening, she'd been aware of it, parking any concerns she had about it for later. For now, she supposed, but suddenly John wasn't taking up any space at all. John wasn't there.

She didn't know if she'd expected to find him where she'd left him. It wasn't especially typical of him to do the expected thing, anyway. Even so, there was an undeniable pang when she woke up to find only the scent of coffee, alcohol and something else – something unique to John – and no physical sign of him at all. In some ways, it was as if last night hadn't happened at all. Perhaps it hadn't. Perhaps that would suit her.

What didn't suit her was having to make a very real walk of shame now. Her pyjamas had seemed skimpy enough last night, in the twilight air. Now, she simply hoped to get from A to B as soon as possible, with an audience kept to a minimum. She wasn't even wearing shoes.

She opened the trailer door.

'She's awake.'

At Mike's words, her audience tripled. Momentarily, anyway. Zach's eyes drifted from the borrowed car to her and back again. John's lingered slightly longer. Mike, sitting on the porch, coffee in hand, regarded her with an amused glint in his eye.

'We considered sending out a search party.'

Folding her arms across her chest, Madison crossed from trailer to house. She resolutely refused to wince as she walked over gravel, and tried to pretend walking around in what amounted to a vest and knickers in broad daylight was entirely ordinary. 'It's not that late,' she replied.

Mike got to his feet. 'Time to get working though. Hey, Zach?' He gave a low whistle when there was no response. 'I think your mom wants you, Mads,' he said, before adding, 'Zach! Come on! That pit won't dig itself.'

Zach let out a grumble. 'Seriously? This is like slave labour.' Then, with an air of triumph, he added, 'And I've promised John I'll take him for a drive so…'

Mike left a brief pause before saying, 'Come on. I'll meet you out there with the shovels.' He left without any more hesitation, seemingly confident his all-but-stepson would obey.

He wasn't proven wrong. With the grace of a teenager, Zach slouched after him, reiterating his promise to John as he headed round the side of the house. Leaving Madison and John and a whole world of silence.

'It's not even his car,' she said eventually, somewhat petulant, and with no idea why she felt the need to degrade her brother.

John raised an eyebrow, enough to tell he knew exactly what she was doing, because he'd always known exactly how to call her out on her bullshit. All those detentions in the library, when she'd caved in on herself, insisting she was fine. Driving her to the hospital to discover if Zach was okay. John knew how easily she strayed from what was bothering her because he did the exact same thing.

'I should see what my mom wants.'

He nodded.

'It'll be something wedding related.'

He nodded again.

Ruffled by his silence, Madison filled the silence. 'Do you… do you want some coffee… or… breakfast… or something? Or do you need to get off or…?' She had no idea what he even spent his days doing. What did people without jobs do? Or people whose parents were dying? This was unchartered territory and she had no idea what she was supposed to do in the too-bright light of day. Last night, they'd deviated into gossip about actors and silly stories from the Valley. That just didn't seem right now.

She opened her mouth.

'You shouldn't keep your mom waiting.' John gave her a small smile. It was familiar and safe and heartbreaking at the same time. He was looking at her as if he knew he had no right to be there, no right on her time at all. It seemed like a goodbye, and he was already turning to go, shoulders slumped, hands in pockets.

Madison hesitated. She knew he was right and she should walk away, skip back into the house, and her real life. Her flight home was in seven days. This was just an interlude. It was not, as she had been so adamant last night, her life.

'John?'

He stopped mid-step and looked back at her through his hair.

'I…' She took a deep breath. 'This won't take all day. We could… hang out later. If you want.'

For a long moment, he held her gaze, his face unreadable. It was too long. Madison prepared herself to look a fool. Then,

'I'll be in the park at three. You can bring the snacks.' Then, ducking his head, he slouched away across the trailer park. She watched his every step until he vanished from view.

As Madison surveyed her reflection in the mirror later that day, she thought she understood why the west coast had become the centre of the film industry rather than the mid-West. She doubted even Audrey Hepburn or Marilyn Monroe would have looked at their best with this level of humidity, and she was far from those screen sirens. Despite all of her mom's friend's efforts, her hair was not playing ball today. She almost thought she should apologise.

'Okay. Right.' Annabel pursed her lips in the mirror, as Madison's hair dropped all the carefully ironed in curls before their eyes. 'Wow, your hair is really not one for styling, is it?'

Madison shrugged apologetically, even as she wanted to say I told you so, because she had, over an hour earlier. The only thing which had stopped her hair becoming utterly unmanageable as a child was that Laura always knew exactly how to cut it to battle the Illinois weather. Since moving west, she'd embraced all manner of styles and shapes, freed by ocean breezes and mild winters. Her hair had been entirely unprepared for this pressure.

Now Laura joined Annabel standing behind Madison, both surveying the damage. The mirror from Laura's vanity had been carried into the lounge, big enough to show all three of them at once. Madison tried to catch her mother's eye, frustrated that even she had not listened, she who had been in those wars with her. How had Laura not thought of this when she was dreaming up this 'vision'?

'Maybe we could try a deep conditioner,' she was saying now, lifting up a somewhat lank lock of hair and letting it drop again. 'Or would dirty hair be better?' Her own soft updo taunted Madison in the mirror. 'I'm sure there's a way around this, isn't there?'

'Oh, I'm sure.' Annabel nodded, but sounded far from certain. 'There must be a way.' She tweaked a bit again, only to see the curl unravel completely. 'Yes, there's definitely a way. The thing is, Laura, I've got a client at four, and it's the other side of town so…'

'Oh, of course!' Laura gasped. 'I'm sorry we've kept you so long, it was just supposed to be a quick rehearsal. Thank you so much for fitting us in.'

'Don't be stupid, it's my pleasure.' The earlier lack of sincerity before was only thrown into stark relief by how genuine she sounded now, and Madison was gratified to see that. This week had proven once and for all, if it needed to be proved, that Laura was infinitely more loved than Madison herself. If that was difficult to admit, it was far less difficult to realise that she deserved it. If anybody was owed their day in the sun - even this blistering Chicago summer sun - it was Laura. Madison was just pleased everybody else knew that.

Now, as Annabel tidied up and chatted happily about the wedding, Madison let it wash over her. Her late night was just now catching up with her and she was content to let other people do stuff to her and around her, even completely wreck her hair. Because wrecked it very much was, she mused, as her mom showed Annabel out, and Madison lifted up a limp strand of hair. It would take a wash and significant condition to bring some life back into it.

It was therefore somewhat of an effort to rowse herself to say, 'Your hair looks nice,' when Laura came back into the living room.

'Thank you.' Laura accepted the compliment and brushed it off in one move, already moving to survey her daughter's hair again. 'I wish I could say the same. I'm sorry, Mads, I'd forgotten what your hair's like.'

'It's okay.' It wasn't. 'I can… do something with it.' She had no idea what. The last time she'd struggled through a Chicago summer, she hadn't much cared how her hair had looked; it had been bleached to oblivion anyway. But a decade of good hair had made her vain. She was embarrassed to find she was genuinely bothered by it. She shrugged out of her mother's clutches now, reaching for a hair band and bundling it up haphazardly, feeling it snag and defiantly ignoring it. 'There, sorted.' She saw Laura's hands twitch and then still.

'Annabel says she can pop by on Saturday afternoon if you want to give it another go. She said she could maybe try some new products.'

'Sure, whatever.'

'You'd look nice for the reunion.'

'Mom.' Madison rolled her eyes and stood up to face her. 'I've already said I'm not going.'

'Yes, I know. I just didn't know if things had changed. If… you'd come up with some plan with…' Laura tailed off, looking pointedly at Madison.

'John?' Even as his name did things to her insides, she managed to turn it into a scoff. 'He's even less likely to go than I am. Get real.' Hoping to end the conversation, she headed towards the kitchen area. 'You want a drink?'

'I better get Mike and Zach one.' Laura followed her, putting paid to any idea that Madison might escape. 'How is John anyway?'

'Fine.' Madison answered automatically, then caught her mother's sceptical look. 'I mean… not fine, obviously, he's… okay… he's… alright.' She shrugged. 'Mom, it's not a big deal, it was just…' She turned away and reached for some glasses, knowing how poor her response had been. It wasn't a case of if her mom would point that out.

After a longer pause than Madison had expected, Laura said, 'Mads, I'm not going to tell you what to do, because it's not like I have that right. I never did. But I am just going to warn you to be careful.'

'Mom!' Madison rolled her eyes. 'It was one coffee. It's nothing.'

'Maybe not to you.' Laura spoke so sharply that Madison couldn't help but be startled. 'I don't pretend to know what goes on in that boy's head, but I do know that life has never been easy for him. He doesn't need any more cruelty.'

'You think I'm being cruel?' It came out as anger but what Madison felt was pain that her mother would think that of her.

'I think it would be quite easy to treat him quite cruelly. Maybe without even thinking.'

Madison folded her arms defiantly. 'Right. So… basically, yeah, you think I'm being cruel.'

'Mads! I didn't say that.' Laura sighed. 'It's your life. But just give a little thought to his life too. I don't think he's ever got over you, you know.'

Churlishly, Madison replied, 'That's not my fault.'

'Again, I didn't say it was.' After a long silence, Laura gave another sigh. 'I need to get these drinks outside. You better get going if you're meeting John at… what time?' In response to her daughter's incredulous face, she said, 'Well, there's got to be a reason you've been checking that clock every five minutes. Annabel didn't stand a chance with your hair.'

She left before Madison could respond.

The park was probably the very last place Madison might have expected to find John on a weekday afternoon. On such a sweltering day, it was a very popular place, but he'd never been one for following the herd. Besides which, whilst everybody around him wore things which could often barely be described as clothes, he was committed to his jeans/shirt/jacket combo. If Madison had worried about being able to find him, she needn't have; all she had to do was look for the fish out of water.

'Hey Twinkie, where's the twinkies?'

Dropping down beside him, she gave him a withering look. 'You know, I've never actually liked them. I don't think you do either. Anyway, I've been a bit tied up.'

'Wedding stuff?'

'Wedding stuff.' She nodded. Then, casting him a sidelong look she said, 'You look better than I thought you might after last night.'

'It's not my first rodeo.' John pushed his sunglasses further up his nose in a triumphant manner, although Madison wondered if, behind them, he looked significantly less better than she'd at first suspected. She took it as her cue to put her own shades back on though; two could play at this kind of evasive game.

'What kind of wedding stuff? What?' John protested when Madison lifted her eyebrows sceptically. 'It's called making conversation.'

'You're interested in wedding stuff?'

'Well, no, but neither are you, so…' He shrugged. 'Which, by the way, puts you in a very very elite and select group of women, so congrats on that.'

She wondered if it was this obvious to everybody else, and felt immediately guilty. Her mom deserved the absolute world, and if she'd wanted flights of doves and a seventy-piece orchestra to serenade her down the aisle, that would have been entirely reasonable in Madison's eyes. Laura deserved everything, and it seemed her daughter couldn't even muster up a facade of enthusiasm.

'It's not that I'm not interested,' she insisted now. 'It's… I don't know… weird. Weird to think of my mom's whole life here…'

'Without you?' Even through both their shades, Madison felt John's direct gaze into her eyes, and knew he absolutely meant her to feel every syllable of: 'Well, you haven't given her a whole lot of choice in that.'

Resolving not to bite, even as a hundred different vicious retorts rose up within her, Madison went on the offence instead. 'What's with the park, anyway? Didn't know you liked the great outdoors so much.'

She knew she didn't imagine the way John's face closed down then, as he fixed his gaze on the middle distance. There wasn't enough time for her to enjoy being out from under his spotlight before he said, voice much smaller than she ever wanted to hear it, 'I don't. Corey does though.'

'What do you…?' The words fell out before Madison could stop herself, and cold dread filled the spaces they'd occupied. Following John's gaze, or at least where she imagined he was looking, it was seconds until her eyes landed on a picture-postcard scene: a mom, a dad, a kid - god, there was even a dog, a ridiculous, fluffy, golden animal running in circles. Laughter, smiles, all so family holiday card that it was sickening even without recognising the woman and putting two and two together and making a very bitter four.

Yet still she had to say, 'That's Corey?'

John didn't confirm it, and she supposed he didn't need to: what other kid would he be spending his Wednesday afternoon watching? Instead, he said, 'They come here most Wednesdays. Nancy has them off.'

'And you… come here most Wednesdays?'

'Some.'

Of all the ways she could have imagined John spending his time (and though she'd deny it to herself, there were all too many times she'd imagined him, here, living his life) this was one of the very last ways. She didn't know if it was better or worse than what she'd imagined. It was, she realised, certainly sadder. She didn't know why she kept coming back to that word when she looked at John, how the angry loud ball of energy she'd known could now be characterised by such an emotion. It sent a bolt of fear through her, and she felt obliged to try to kill the moment by saying,

'Brian said you weren't allowed to see him.'

'I'm not allowed visitation rights.' It sounded like a line he'd had to say many times before. 'I'm allowed to lay eyes on my son.'

It was exactly what she'd tried to push out of her mind all week, but now here it was. Here he was: Corey, John's… son. The words butted up against each other in her head, her throat, feeling all wrong together. The idea of this boy having any relation to the hypothetical that had sent her running away all those years ago. In her mind, he'd stayed forever that: an idea, but not a real living breathing person. They were too far away for her to make out much of his features, but the very existence of him was undeniable. He was tall and robust, and made of actual flesh and blood. And, after all these years, just a child. Nothing whatsoever to fear. Madison let out a breath which felt a decade in the holding.

'Does Nancy know you do this?'

'I'm not exactly inconspicuous.' Then, in that worn-out voice that she was growing uncomfortably familiar with, he added, 'I know, it's dumb. Add it to the list of dumb shit I do.'

'I don't think it's dumb. I think… I think it's probably normal to want to see your… son.' Getting to the end of the sentence felt like a victory, but one she didn't have time to celebrate as she felt the need to add, 'When did you last get to see him? Properly, I mean.'

'Four years ago. Did Brian tell you why I'm not allowed visitation rights?'

'Kinda.'

'Like I said. List of dumb shit.'

'He thought Nancy was a bitch,' Madison said, feeling the need to stick up for their friend.

But it sounded like something John had heard before as, with a snort and a twisted smile, he said, 'No, Nancy's being a good mom. Maybe if I'd had one like her, I'd not do the dumb shit.'

Madison turned her attention back to the family scene. It seemed playtime was over, as they wrestled the dog back onto its lead, ball still clutched in its mouth, and the man playfully wrestled with the son. She imagined them heading off for an idyllic family dinner, all around the table, smiling faces, home-cooked food. She'd basically forgotten who they even were until Nancy turned back momentarily and gave a brief wave in their direction before continuing with her day.

'You know I didn't cheat on you, don't you?'

It caught her unawares. Just as with Allison yesterday, she felt the foundations of her current life shift, only this time it was with a seismic upheaval. Her whole life in LA, she'd been able to justify her decisions because of this one basic fact: her high school boyfriend had cheated on her. Ten years in, she knew it was wearing thin, and she rarely mentioned it to anybody outside her own head anymore. It sounded petty and jaded and immature. Internally, she'd nursed it, knowing that John had been more than that, more than just high school, that maybe he could have been everything, and that his betrayal was the green light for her to do what she'd done. It made leaving behind everybody else seem not-so-bad.

But now here it was: incontrovertible proof that what she'd based her whole adult life upon wasn't true. That John had, in fact, been telling the truth all those years ago and she'd refused to hear it. That she'd been the one who burned it all down.

Right now, she was unable to push past all of that history to utter even a single syllable, and so she simply nodded her head, eyes down,, unsure if John was even looking her way. Then she felt his shadow fall over her and his hand reaching for hers to pull her up alongside him.

'I need a drink.'

'So here's a question.' John lounged back in the chair opposite her, beer in hand. He used the neck of the bottle to point at her. 'What's up with your brother?'

Madison dragged her attention away from the unexpected pleasures of working AC in the dive bar to say, 'Zach? Who says there's anything wrong with him?'

John shrugged and took a swig of beer. 'I don't know. He just seems…' He tailed off, momentarily lost for words, before saying, 'I don't know. He seems more.'

Madison was about to demand he expand on that further before finding herself agreeing with him. That was exactly what Zach seemed: more chatty, more moody, more keen to batter you with words in an attempt to stop you finding out what was going on. That John had noticed all of this from a short conversation about a car this morning only made it more concerning.

'I don't know,' she admitted now, running her finger around the rim of her glass of iced tea. 'I'm worried about him. What?' she asked, when she saw a slow smile spread across John's face. 'Am I not supposed to worry about my brother?'

'Worrying about your brother is exactly what you're supposed to do, Twinkie. I'm glad to see some things never change.' Then, leaning forward on the table, beer momentarily sidelined, he said more seriously, 'You don't think he's ill, do you?'

'Well now I do!' She rolled her eyes. 'I mean… no, he'd tell us if that was it. Ill, we can deal with. It's… something else, and he won't tell me.'

'What about your mom?'

'I don't think she's even noticed.'

John pulled an incredulous face. 'Your mom has definitely noticed. Your mom is grade-A when it comes to noticing stuff. Like FBI level. She's just even better at not letting you know she's noticed.'

Madison couldn't help smiling. John had categorised her mom so well, in a way only somebody who'd known her at such close quarters as he had could. Those easy nights in the trailer, all four of them piled in, eating off their laps, John and Zach doing that loud-boy-teasing-thing which she'd never understood but had always felt so warm. Laura handing John a plate of food as if he didn't belong anywhere else but here. They'd been the very best of days, and the rush of memories almost winded her, leaving her unable to respond for several seconds.

Seconds in which John took the opportunity to drain his bottle of beer and stand up. 'I'm getting another, you want anything?'

They'd been there less than thirty minutes; her iced tea wasn't even half empty. It was only now that she registered that they were in a bar in the late afternoon, and how strange that was. It made her blurt out, 'No, I'm okay. Do you think you should?'

John let the question hang in the air, clearly dozens of responses racing through his head, before he settled upon, 'I'm going to pretend you didn't ask that,' and headed to the bar anyway. It was a complete John-fucking-Bender move that he returned with two beers, and drained half of one with a defiant look at her afterwards.

As the bottle hit the table, Madison was unable to hold it in any longer. 'Why do you do this?'

'Twinks.' A warning tone. 'You don't need to do this.'

'Maybe I do. Maybe you need to.' She reached across the table for his arm. 'You're better than this.'

The table jerked as he wrenched his arm from underneath her hand. 'You don't get to tell me that. You've spent a decade hating me.'

'No, I haven't! I…' She bit her tongue hard as she met his challenging glare, unable to lie to him even now, even after all of this time. 'Hate is the wrong word. I've… been angry and hurt and… I thought you'd…' Every sentence fell away, sounding so ridiculously hollow now that she'd admitted she knew the real truth. That every emotion she'd felt had been based on her refusal to listen. 'I'm sorry.'

For a moment she wondered if she'd spoken at all. John didn't even flicker in response, staring at the label on one of the beer bottles.

And then he began.

'I tried to be better. I tried to do everything right. I quit smoking. I went to school. I graduated - no-one in my family had ever graduated before, not that anybody gave a shit about that. I got a girl pregnant, dumb-shit-list, but I was stepping up, I was being a man. I did it all fucking right and you know what? I still fucking lost. Cause you seriously thought I'd ever do that to you? Fuck, Twinkie. I was in love with you, I still am, I'm a fucking idiot but I still am, and all I did was tell the fucking truth, and you ran as far as you could away from me. I did it all right, and I still got it all wrong. So maybe I don't want to be "better than this". What's the fucking point?' He stood up, jostling the table and knocking one of the beers over. 'Let's add this to my list of dumb shit, yeah? Thinking I'd ever get another shot at this.'

'John!' Madison made a grab for him but only caught air as he left the bar and slammed the door. The table rocked in his wake, the upturned bottle glugging onto the floor

It was only then that she noticed the tears in her eyes.