"Hey Mae, what's wrong?" Trent asked.
She looked over at him, startled, the late evening sunlight playing slowly across her face as they walked down the road towards the bridge.
"What?" she asked.
He laughed. "Something's wrong. Something's been wrong for a little while now, and I thought maybe I should give you time, because you seemed bothered, but not tormented. But you haven't said anything. So I thought I'd ask."
Trent actually thought he knew what was bothering her, but he also knew it was better to let her talk about it and use her own words at her own speed.
"How did you know?" she asked after a long moment.
He shrugged. "I just did. I could tell. I mean, you can always tell."
"Yeah, but I've got like...leftover ESP or telepathy or whatever the hell. It's cheating. You don't have any."
"I might."
She shook her head. "I'd know. I don't know how I'd know, but I would...but that just means you're, like, really good at reading me. Which kind of worries me, but not for any specific reason...whatever. I'll tell you. It's stupid. But before I do, I want to ask you a completely unrelated question."
"Shoot."
"Why did you say yes?"
He waited for another few seconds, expecting more, but she said nothing. "To…"
"Sex. The first time."
"Oh." He chuckled awkwardly. "Um...a few reasons." He paused. "You sure you want to hear this?"
"I asked, didn't I?"
"I just...don't want you to think that I don't value our relationship, or, more to the point, didn't in the beginning?"
"First of all, it was a hookup. Second of all, I know you love me to death. Third, I'm fully expecting to hear: 'Because you were a willing vagina'."
He laughed, less awkwardly this time. "You have such a way with words, Mae."
"Yeah, yeah, quit stalling."
"Fine. Blunt honesty, as per usual. Firstly, yes, I was horny and you were willing. But, on a deeper level, I was attracted to you, even then, barely two hours into our first meeting. Physically and emotionally. But even deeper than that…" He hesitated.
"Come on, don't bullshit me, lover boy," she said.
They came to the bridge. He looked down over the side, sighed heavily as he leaned against the railing. "I just don't want it to come off the wrong way."
"Trent! Just go," she said. "I want to know. I promise I won't take it wrong, or, if I do, I promise I will allow you to explain."
"That...helps a lot, actually. So basically, the thing I remember thinking really strongly, was that you were obviously in so much pain, and had been through so much. You seem so traumatized. And I just...wanted to make you feel better. I wanted to help you. I wanted to be nice to you. But I don't want you to think I mean that it was pity sex, or that I think you're pathetic-"
"I am pathetic," Mae replied, rolling her eyes.
"You aren't, though. You're amazing. It's hard to see from the inside, but from the outside, to people who know you, who know what you've done, what you've gone through, what you had to face down...you're a fucking warrior. But yeah, there's the reasons why."
"Huh." She was silent for a moment, looking down over the edge with him. "I'm glad," she said finally. "I mean, for obvious reasons, but...I'm just so glad it worked out. Not just the relationship and all we are now, but that one moment in time. The first time we were having sex, it was so good. I mean, physically it felt amazing, your dick just pounding into me lit me up, but more than that, there was just this connection, this immediate instant connection I felt, and this comfort. I felt more comforted by you than by anyone else ever. And that was, like, a really big deal. I needed it. I needed it more than I realized I needed it."
"I'm glad," he said, putting his hand over the back of hers.
"All right," she shifted a little, "so, the thing that's actually bothering me. It's...Cry of Fear. It spoke to me in some weird way. I can't stop thinking about it. It's really bugging me. I'm just so...sad. Like, it's hard to put into words. Because even in the best ending, it's still fucking miserable. You're still locked up in an asylum, half-paralyzed, no real relationships. It's just...I don't know. I've experienced a thousand sad stories, but it's rare they speak to me like this, that they linger like this. I saw this picture, this fan drawing I think, of Simon sitting at a table, it's little more than a sketch really, and he's in the middle of writing or drawing something, but he's wiping his eye from crying, and there's this smile on his face…"
She hesitated, her voice choking up, and she looked up and blinked several times. Then she sighed and brushed at her eyes. "It's just, the smile. It says so much. It's this sad smile. It's the kind of smile that says 'I'm trying. I'm so tired, and so much bad shit has happened to me, but I'm still going, I'm still being a good little trooper and I'm still trying to be better, but it's so hard'...I don't know, maybe I'm reading way too much into it, or I'm projecting, it's just how I've felt sometimes. When it gets so fucking hard. I haven't felt that way in a long time, actually. Not since after the mines. But it's burned into my memories like acid.
"And I just...I feel so fucking bad for him. Which is stupid, because he isn't even real. But I still feel that way regardless. I just...want to make him happy, somehow. He didn't deserve this." She sighed heavily and looked at him. "I'm being stupid, right?"
"No," he replied, "you aren't. Stories...are supposed to make us feel. We're supposed to connect with characters. And Cry of Fear was an especially powerful and authentic tale of tragedy and misery and just the...the fucking soul-crushing loneliness and horror of depression and anxiety, and just how goddamned bad it can get. That's why it spoke to you." He squeezed her hand gently. "You know I'd never dismiss what you care about, right?"
"Yeah...I'm sorry. I just feel like I always have to hedge my bets, to just shield myself with an 'I know this is dumb but', because so many people just dismiss shit. But you aren't like that, and I know you aren't, it's just habit...I want to do something but it's so fucking cringe."
"What do you want to do?" he asked.
"I want to write a fucking fan fiction. Which, I don't think fan fiction is cringe, but more just what it's about. I just want to write, like, an alternate universe where Simon has this slow recovery from the car wreck, and gradually regains his ability to walk, and starts a real relationship with Sophie-it's so fucking lame. There wouldn't even be any monsters. It's just fluffy fluff shit."
"So?" he asked.
She looked up at him for a long moment. "There's barely even any fan fiction online for it…"
"So?" She pursed her lips uncertainly. "Mae...you can just write it. You don't even have to show it to anyone. You can post it or not post it. You can write it however you want it to be. You don't have to follow the 'literary' rules. You can just write it."
"...would you read it?"
"Yes."
"But not, like, for feedback?"
"Yes, Mae. I'll read it."
She sighed and groaned. "But you're, like, a real writer with a fucking publishing deal and you're successful and you'll think I'm so fucking stupid!"
"Mae, you don't have to show me if you don't want to, but I will totally not judge you. I want you to enjoy it, Mae. Writing...is such a magical act. That sounds like horseshit, but when I'm, like, in the zone? And the words are just coming? It's...it feels so good. It's worth doing just if you want to do it, Mae."
She grinned. "I do hear you pounding away on the keyboard sometimes. And, like, for awhile, too! Like fifteen, twenty minute stretches. Sometimes you're like a machine."
"Those are lucky times," he replied.
The quality of her grin changed. "And sometimes you're like a fucking pussy-pounding machine too, you know that?"
He sighed awkwardly and laughed. "Yes, Mae. Thanks."
"Why do you get so weird about it? It's been, like, six months."
"It's just...I don't even know. I think it's programmed into me or something."
She lost her smile suddenly and looked around. He did the same. They were alone. "Uh...there is something more immediately bothering me. And I needed to talk with you about it."
"Shoot again," he replied.
"Um...so like...how mad would be if we didn't do anal? I mean, like, not even tried it?"
"I would be zero percent mad," he replied.
"For real? Because I know I promised I'd at least give it a shot with you, but I tried putting a dildo up my ass and even going slow and with lube, like, I just hated it, and I honestly never want anything in my butt again-"
"Mae," he said, and she stopped. "It's for real okay. We never have to try it, we don't even have to talk about it again if you don't want to. I will be one hundred percent okay with it."
"You're sure?" she asked. "Because I wanted to do it for you, just…"
"I'm positive, Mae. I would never pressure you into doing something you didn't want to do." He paused. "Okay, I'd never pressure you into doing something sexual you didn't want to do. Or, well, more to the point, I'll only ever pressure you to do things you really, really should be doing for your own health and safety. And more persuade than pressure."
"Thank you, also, groan. You just reminded me, my fucking first therapy session is tomorrow. Goddamnit."
"I'm sorry honey."
"Me too. Fire me out of a cannon into the sun."
"I'll be there with you," he said.
"Yeah but not, like, in the room."
"If you really pushed, you could probably make it happen."
She frowned, looking down into the trench below them. He looked down with her. There was a lot of garbage down there, a big draining pipe, a few raccoons scurrying about.
"Really thinking about it, I guess I...don't want you in the room. Or anyone." She paused for a long moment, her lips twisting awkwardly. "Does that make you mad?"
"No, not at all," he replied. "Mae, this is your mental health. This is your privacy. You get to control how you handle that. And not one of us, not me or Bea or Ann will be mad at you for wanting to be in that room alone with a therapist."
She shifted on her feet uncomfortably. "Okay. I'm sorry that I keep thinking that, like, you're going to be mad at me or mean to me. Like...I trust you, and I love you, and all that stuff...I don't really know why I keep assuming the worst about you."
"I think it's because you've been hurt way too many times. I understand the feeling. I get paranoid about it, too."
"To be fair, I've given you more reason to worry. I'm unpredictable and immature."
"Well...you are unpredictable and you can be immature, but I mean, isn't that true of all of us? And I still stand by the statement that you've come a long way. And I mean, it's part of why you're going into therapy. It'll help you realize things you're doing and why you're doing them and how to stop unhealthy things, or at least how to deal with them better."
"What about you?" she asked after a long moment.
"What about me what?"
"When do you start therapy. Like...panic attacks are serious business. And all that stuff with your family…"
He sighed. "Yeah, I know. I should...I will. I just don't wanna do it."
She laughed. "Me either. I guess I'll tell you how it goes." She looked up at the sky for a moment. "Is that why you asked me out here? To ask me what was bothering me?"
"Not the whole reason," Trent replied. "I feel like my nose has been to the grindstone pretty hard and I haven't been hanging out with everyone as much recently. So I wanted to catch up, hang out, see how you're doing."
"Oh. Cool. Well, I mean, I've just been being a basement troll, lurking in the shadows playing video games and maintaining my presence online."
"How's it going?"
"Surprisingly well. The whole Month of Mayday thing seems to be working. I imagine having Tabby on my stream gave me some serious cred. But I passed ten thousand subscribers a few days ago and I'm just over twelve hundred a month on my . And I've got like five hundred dollars sitting in my account from the burst of donations through and Ko-Fi thanks to the stream. Like...jeez. That's all so insane now that I'm saying it out loud. I feel like I don't have perspective. None of this feels really real."
"I know how you feel," he murmured.
It had been ten days since they'd dropped Molly off back at home. He'd come home and cleaned the house like he'd said, then, the next day, had dove right back into work. Demontower III was taking a lot more work than he was used to. The other two had been kind of a breeze, but suddenly it was more complex now, for a number of reasons.
"Why is the third one harder?" Mae asked. He looked at her. "Oh. Shit. Sorry. I just...heard it?"
"Are you sure your telepathy has left you?" he asked.
"Most of the time, yeah. But it definitely left an echo. I think it's like a machine running at five percent capacity. It still works to some degree, and sometimes, for no obvious reason, it works really well. But only for like single, simple thoughts." She paused. "I think the third Demontower is harder to novelize because there's more lore. Tabby put a lot more lore into it, and it was twice as long as either of the other two. Honestly, it's longer than the other two combined."
"Yeah, that's what I was thinking," Trent replied, and then hesitated, surprised at how easily he shook off his girlfriend reading his mind.
Most people would grapple tremendously with that, and most of them would have a serious problem with it.
But he trusted Mae, and he knew she trusted him.
She grinned suddenly. "I can't believe you fucked Tabby...in the ass. I mean, at all, but in the ass? That's so fucking hot. Also, I mean, I can believe it, but like...it's so amazing!"
He laughed, taking an unobtrusive look around to make sure they were actually alone. "Yeah, that was amazing."
She slowly lost her smile. "I hope it doesn't become, like, a thing, between us. I feel like it...might become a thing...the anal. I think Bea's really going to like it. I don't know why, just get that feeling. And it's like...she's going to be the girlfriend who does what you want, who lets you fuck her in the ass, and I'm not-"
"Mae," he said, reaching out and taking her hand. He hesitated, then hugged her. She squeezed him tightly. "Listen sweetheart," he murmured, running a hand over the back of her head as he held her against him. "I will never hold that against you, all right? You are allowed to set boundaries. Full stop. And I will respect them. Always. And I will never hold that over you. I will never resent you for it, all right? I won't feel like Bea is my favorite or the 'best', there is no best in our house, all right? There are just people, there's just us, all of us, in relationships, trying to live our lives and be ourselves. It's not like I'm going to keep a list of things you do for me that Bea won't, or vice versa, or anything else. It's not a competition. It's a loving home and a safe environment...okay?"
"Okay," she murmured. "...I really feel like I don't deserve this level of patience and loving kindness."
"You do."
"You're biased."
He laughed. "Well, regardless of whether or not you deserve it, you're getting it. How does that sound?"
"...that sounds good."
He kissed the top of her head. She looked up at him and smiled. He was glad to see she wasn't crying. He didn't mind and he'd never dissuade her from doing so, but it was good to be able to handle more intense emotional conversations without breaking that particular barrier every time.
"Even if I am short?" she asked.
"Hey, I like that you're short. I know it bugs you, but...I see it as a bonus, to be honest."
"Why?"
"I can bounce you on my cock like really well. And I can toss you around. And I can carry you pretty easily."
She giggled. "Those are all pretty cool."
"Exactly."
"Feel better?"
"Yeah, I do. A lot...thanks."
"You're welcome. Now, continue. You were telling me the amazing strides you've been making. Ten thousand subscribers? I feel like you should have some kind of special for that."
"I should. I was thinking the same thing. I was thinking maybe I could go through The Eight Pages again? We were so fucking out of it. There's like the official game, but then they also made a sequel, like a more official one, and also there were a shitload of mods. I wanna play through all. That whole thing really seemed to work, like the mechanics. I could just play that over and over again. And people are already asking for it, so…" She shrugged.
"That's really good, Mae. I'm really happy this is working out."
"I am too, but...I gotta admit, I'm scared. That I'm like missing something, and it's all going to collapse. I don't know. Nothing's ever really gone right in my life. Not until I met you. Even my friendships, all my relationships...everything I've ever done I've fucked up somehow. I was best friends with Bea, then I fucked it up. Then I was best friends with Gregg, and that was close to good, but then I started fucking it up when I came back. And Angus. My parents. I dunno...things finally turned around."
"You defeated a cult and you reconnected with Bea. It was rough, I get that, but you did it. I think you would've turned out all right even if I hadn't shown up."
"I doubt it," she muttered. "Maybe after another decade. I dunno. Like I said, dark timeline I don't like to think about." She looked around suddenly. "Come on, let's get a peirogi."
"Sounds good," he replied.
"And tell me about your book! I want to know about fucking Demontower Three," she said.
"All right," Trent said, taking her hand.
They began walking back into town.
"Why are we going up here?" Trent asked as he followed Bea's sweet ass up the dark, dusty stairwell of her old apartment building.
"Because I always wanted to," she replied. "And there's no reason not to, I guess."
"Hmm."
She was right, she was putting on some weight. Which he wasn't complaining about at all. Her ass was definitely a bit fatter, filling out the jeans she was wearing more than a few months ago. He really liked lean fit girls, but...the only thing he liked more than that was lean fit girls who'd let themselves go just a little bit.
They had that perfect fit yet thick physique.
"What's that 'hmm' about?" she asked.
"Just thinking that Mae has had a bigger impact on you than I originally thought. You're a much bigger risk-taker than you used to be," he said.
"Well," she murmured as she investigated the door at the top of the stairs, "when you face down a cult twice and then an asshole half a foot and a hundred pounds bigger than you, risks seem a lot less menacing. Are you looking at my ass?"
"Duh," he replied.
"Good."
He laughed, then squinted as she got the door open and a burst of sunlight came in. They walked up onto the roof and took a look around. Bea walked right over to a big, boxy air conditioning unit, sat down with her back to it, pulled out a blunt, and lit up.
"Definitely a much bigger risk-taker," he said as he sat down beside her.
"That's your fault," she muttered around the blunt, then took a few puffs. "Ah, fuck, that's better. Been crunching hard studying website design all week."
"Oh yeah?"
"Yes. I figure the more I learn now, the easier college will be. Honestly it's not as hard as I thought, though I clearly have a lot left to learn. But I'm clearly on my way to short-term burnout and I need to take a break. So that's why I agreed to the walk. You have a good peirogi with Mae?"
"I did," he replied.
"How is she?"
Bea passed him the blunt and he took it, took a puff, passed it back.
"She's good. She's happy. She's paranoid it's all going to get ripped away from her."
Bea laughed softly, shaking her head. "Poor Mae. I know how she feels. I'm scared I'm going to fuck this up somehow and be forced back into servitude at the fucking Pickaxe and have to move back into my shitty bedroom." She sighed heavily and took another pull on the blunt. "I can't believe I smoke weed now."
"And outdoors, in public," he murmured.
"This is hardly public...are you doing okay?" she asked.
"Yeah. Why?"
"You just seem kind of stressed."
"Well, I am kind of trying to come down from overwork myself. Demontower Three is proving a lot more difficult than I thought. And Mae has to go therapy tomorrow."
"Oh yeah...shit. Well, we'll get her through that just fine. What about Demontower Three? Where are you with it?" she asked.
"I've got it all planned out and I'm about a fifth of the way through the actual writing. It's grown. And at the rate it's going, I'm afraid I'm going to have to split part four into two parts. Or else it'll have to be a really, really long book as compared to the rest. I just want to make sure I get it right. Or…"
"Or?"
"I guess I've been thinking about novellas and short stories. I could chop out the length of some of it if I made some of the content novellas and shorts. They're sub-plots, not completely relevant to the overarching narrative, but not completely irrelevant either. I dunno. That's part of what has kept me so worried and is making me take longer. I'm flip-flopping on the subject. I need to talk with Tabby about it, see what she thinks." He paused, twisting his lips as he considered something. "Are you happy?" he asked suddenly.
Bea looked at him, almost startled. "What the fuck brought that on? Yes, of course I'm happy. I'm in fucking bliss, Trent...why? Do I not seem happy?"
"You do...you know, for a grumpy goth chick. I just...want to make sure I'm not missing anything, you know?"
"Oh. Well, don't worry. I'm happy." She paused. "Are you?"
"Of course I am. I've got my fucking dream job, a paid off house and car, no debt, and three fucking amazing girlfriends."
She snorted. "I like that you mention us last."
"Hey, best for last," he replied.
"Okay, fair enough."
Bea looked at him for a long moment, then held out the blunt away from her, kissed him on the mouth, and then stretched out and laid down with her head in his lap. "I love doing this," she murmured. "Laying with my head in your lap, looking at the sky. The clouds or the stars. It feels so good. I feel so...safe, with you."
"I'm glad," he said, running a finger lightly down her jawline. "I feel the same way."
A moment of silence passed.
"Did you want to talk about anything else?" she murmured.
"Not particularly...did you?"
"No. Let's just be here together for awhile."
"Let's."
"Hey, Ann. Uh...are you happy?" Trent asked.
It took her a moment to respond, which concerned him. Because it was clear she wasn't thinking about the question, but that she hadn't quite heard it.
"What?" she replied. "Yeah, I'm happy. Like right now?"
"Well...yeah. And in general."
They were walking along the street, making for the Snack Falcon. After his time with Bea on the rooftop, she'd ultimately ended up feeling the itch to wrap up something that was nagging at her brain, so they'd headed home. They'd arrived just in time for him to find Ann finishing up her own most recent project, so he took the opportunity to see if she wanted to hang out.
"I'm definitely happy in general," she replied. "Right now? I'm okay. Guess I'm just distracted."
"By what?"
"You know, stuff. Nothing really specific."
Trent frowned. For the first time...he thought Ann might be outright lying to him. Or, if it wasn't the first time, it felt like the first time, because he couldn't remember her lying to him.
"What brought that on?" she asked suddenly, before he could respond.
"I asked Bea when we were hanging out, and I guess, I dunno, I feel like you're hardest to read out of everyone. And also maybe you might not tell me if you were unhappy. You really like to keep things to yourself," he replied.
Now she frowned, and looked just the slightest bit...guilty?
She had a really good poker face.
"I wouldn't say like," she murmured after a moment. "More like...it's a habit. I already had the habit, but prison really brought that out in me. You don't want to let things slip, or let people know they're getting to you."
"Oh...sorry."
"It's fine. And you're right, I guess I would bottle things up from all three of you. It's just...you guys have all gone through a lot. And I'm recently realizing how much you have gone through." She looked at him. "You kinda do the same, huh?"
He hesitated. "I don't know. I guess so. Yeah. But with me it was more, I just didn't want to talk about it? It's not like it was constantly on my mind. I think...I think I might've mildly repressed a lot of it when I came to Possum Springs and met you all. Everything just became so fucking awesome that my brain happily discarded all those traumas from my most recent memory cache, if that makes sense? It's still there, just a few layers down. Although not anymore."
"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have asked about it at the pond," she murmured.
"No, like I said, it was a good idea. And it's a good thing. I have to deal with it. Because it won't just stay there. It might've been under the ice for awhile, but ice melts, eventually, and it all comes rising back up to the surface to decay and rot and reek."
"That's a really good metaphor," she said, then grinned. "But you are the writer."
"Hopefully Mae will be too, soon," he replied.
"Oh yeah?"
"She wants to write something. She's worried it'll be mega cringe. I told her, who cares? Do it anyway, even if only for yourself."
"That's good advice...how is she?"
"Good. Scared she's going to lose it all, but aren't we all?"
"Mmm. Yeah."
Trent's phone buzzed and he pulled it out. Unlocking it, he realized he'd actually missed a text message and now he had two. He checked the first one.
It was from Melody. He was checking up on his friends who weren't living with him.
Yeah I'm good. Enjoying some downtime. Thanks for asking, you're real nice. I don't normally do this (and yes I actually mean that I know like fucking every chick says that) but here, and don't fucking show anyone outside your girlfriends.
And she sent him a picture of her topless in the mirror.
"Hmm," he murmured.
"What...oh, God. Nice. I wish she was into chicks," Ann muttered when she glanced at his screen. "She has fantastic tits."
"She does," he muttered, firing off a quick, happy response to her, then checking the next one.
Ann snorted. "Another message? How many fucking girlfriends you got?"
"I have three girlfriends," he muttered.
"Okay, let me rephrase that: How many sidepieces you got?"
He sighed. "This is from Jackie, actually."
"Did you two ever get it sorted out how you felt about each other?"
"Yes. We both articulated that we feel strictly platonic about each other."
"I'm glad. I think it'd do you good to have a female friend you didn't also fuck, and Jackie...needs more friends. Like authentic friends who take her as she is."
"Agreed," he replied.
Jackie's message was, like Jackie herself, blunt and to the point.
I'm cool. Thanks for checking. Very busy. You?
He fired off a similar message back and slipped his phone back into his pocket.
"You didn't answer my question," she said.
"What question?" he replied, hoping she'd drop it.
But her smile said she was having too much fun now. "How many sidepieces?"
He sighed. "I'd prefer not to call them that. It's so...degrading."
"I don't actually mean it like that, but answer the question. Like Mae enjoys telling you so much: quick dodging."
"Fine. Three...and a half."
"What the fuck?"
"Claire and Tabby and Melody."
"Is Molly the half? Did you actually fuck around with her?"
"No. We just made out a few times."
"And she slept next to you naked, and you saw her naked several times, showered with her at least once, groped her bare tits and ass, watched her fuck your girlfriend while you fucked another girlfriend right next to her…" Ann murmured quietly.
"She's not a 'sidepiece'," he replied firmly. "And believe me, I wish she was. I'm jealous you got to fuck her, but I'd never hold it against anyone. I mean Jen."
"Oh. Yeah...you ever figure out how it's going with her?"
"She's still figuring it out and I'm giving her all the time and space she needs."
"I think she'll figure out that what she had going with you was just fine, and she'll settle back into having sex with you occasionally whenever she's visiting the family."
"You think so?"
"Yeah...you excited?"
"Fucking duh. You've seen her. You've seen her in action. She's fucking incredible."
"She really is. I'm jealous of you, for the record. Every girl you've gone to bed with who's straight I've wanted to fuck. Yeah, I got Molly, but you've got Bea, Jen, Claire, Tabby, Melody...goddamn, we need to find at least one more bisexual chick."
"We do," he agreed.
She laughed. "You just want new pussy."
"Hey, I want that, but I also want that for you and Mae, okay?"
"Fair."
They reached the Snack Falcon and her phone started to ring. She winced as she pulled it out, then relaxed. "My mom," she said, making him wonder who she thought it might be. "Why don't you head inside and grab the stuff? You know what I want."
"Okay, love you babe," he replied.
"Love you too," she said with a warm smile.
He headed inside as she answered the phone. Gregg was manning the counter, as usual, and he looked...pensive.
It was a very bizarre expression and demeanor for the otherwise jubilant fox.
"Hey Gregg, how you doing?" Trent asked as he started gathering stuff from the shelves.
"Uh, good," he replied. He looked behind him. "Is Mae around?"
"No, she's at home."
"Okay." He paused. "Uh...can I ask you something, like, confidentially?"
"Yeah, sure," he replied, pausing in his gathering and coming up to the counter. "Man, are you okay? You look, like, actually worried."
"I am," he admitted.
"Are you okay?"
"I'm fine."
"Is Angus okay?"
"Yeah, he's fine."
"Are you two, like, okay?"
"Yes! Trent! Can I just ask?"
"Yeah, sorry."
He sighed softly. "Sorry. I didn't mean to-I'm just...okay. Um. Angus and I are actually, like, getting close to making the Bright Harbor thing happen. Like for real. I mean, we've got some actual bank saved up, and a real car, and he might have landed, like, a real job out there. An IT job."
"Whoa, for real?"
"Yeah. He thought he was going have to take classes but he found some online courses near the end of last year and it was like a six month or so thing. Basically you just study stuff, learn stuff, take tests. And he's, like, a genius so he aced it all and got the certificate kinda early. And he was looking for jobs out there and found one and took a test and aced it, too. And they're actually interested. They want to meet him, so there's a meeting set up next week. And it's probably going to work. If he got this job, he could definitely pay for an apartment out there for us."
"Well fucking congrats." Trent paused. "What's the problem?"
"How do I tell Mae?! I have no fucking idea how to actually tell her."
"Oh...I get that." He sighed and considered it for a moment. "Gimme a minute."
"Okay."
Trent looked back outside, hoping to get Ann's input on this, and frowned as he saw her whole demeanor had changed. She looked like she was arguing with her mom. Great. He went about gathering up the rest of the stuff he wanted to get from the Snalcon and piled it all on the counter. Gregg started ringing it up.
"Well," Trent said, pulling out his wallet, "I guess my answer is: just tell her. Both you and Angus come over, soon, like today ideally, tonight, and basically just explain the situation to her."
"But she'll, like, lose her shit."
"She might," Trent said, "but she's come a long way, Gregg. I think you'd be surprised."
He paused in his ringing up, looking thoughtful. "I guess you're probably right. Like, I always felt bad, because it was like: me and Angus were all she had after...Casey was gone. But then she patched things up with Bea. And now she has you and Ann and Claire and Molly...you're right. I'll talk with Angus about it and text you when we're ready. Tonight?"
"Yeah, to-" Trent hesitated as he glanced over at the window again.
Ann wasn't talking on her phone anymore. Now she was talking to another person in the flesh. Someone he didn't recognize. But he could tell right away she wasn't happy, and the guy wasn't taking the hint.
"Who's that?" Gregg asked, his voice immediately turning dangerous.
"I have no idea but I'm about to find out," Trent replied.
"I'll jump in if it looks like it's headed south," Gregg said.
"Thanks."
Trent pushed the front door to the Snack Falcon open and stepped out.