Try {One | Alaric Saltzman}

Our Town

Abigail never really knew what she was going to read in the newspaper, but the story of her parents' accident was not something she expected to see. Yet, there it was, printed clear as day next to their photo. She kicked the coffee table before she even knew what she was doing, sending it sliding across the apartment floor. Slamming her fist onto the arm of the couch, she sped to the punching bag in the corner. It took the brunt of her anger, receiving hit after hit until Alaric ran in from the bedroom.

"Hey!" He yelled. "You're gonna put a hole in something!"

"Sorry..." She took a deep breath as she crossed over to him. "I'm still getting used to the heightened emotions. Anger is the worst. It just... it happens so fast."

He picked the paper up, silently reading the headline. "Your parents."

"Why would they include them in an article about restoring the bridge they died going off of?" She moved the coffee table to its rightful place, picking up all the things that fell off of it as she did. "I mean, it's bad enough everyone is going to be staring at me tonight, but front page? It's going to be like the first day of school all over again."

He waited for her to sit down before he said, "Look, we can figure out how to get out of the fundraiser. I-I can-"

"I'm a member of the Historical Society, you're a member of the Council, and my parents would want me to honor our town, so, no, we can't get out of it." There was a look in his eye that told her there was something he wanted to say, something he needed help getting out, so even though she was still caught up in her own mind, she put her hand on his thigh. "You know, you don't talk about your parents much."

"Ed and Dianne," he sighed. "There's not much to talk about."

"When was the last time you talked to them?"

"When Isobel... And before that it was when they sold the house and moved to North Truro." He sunk deeper into the couch, not caring if his shirt developed a few wrinkles before school. "I think it would have been easier for us to stay connected if I had siblings."

"What do you mean?"

"All of the love, the hope... it was all for me. Which was great, don't get me wrong, but that meant I got all the anger, all the disappointment." His shoulders slumped with a lifetime of failures and achievements. "So, I don't know, sometimes I think if it had somewhere else to go, we wouldn't have ended up like this."

It didn't seem like there was anything that she could say, so she settled on, "I'm sorry."

"Yeah, me too. I've been thinking about calling them, but I don't know, something stops me every time." He held his ringed hand out in front of them. "Probably something to do with dying..."

She stood up, taking her time to look him over. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine, I'm fine," he reassured her. "I think the ring, however, is running low on batteries."

"That's another reason why Jeremy has to get out of town. If those rings have a shelf life, he is not protected." Tears pooled into her eyes, spilling over before she could turn her back to him. "And neither are you."

He followed her into the kitchen. "Jeremy was packing when I called him. He was going on and on about his new school in Denver. He seems excited."

She busied herself with tidying the space. Cereal in the pantry. Milk in the fridge. Two spoons, two bowls, two mugs, only one of each used out of necessity, into the sink.

Peace. Anger. Compassion. Sadness. All dialed up to ten, one after the other.

He wrapped his arms around her waist as she gripped onto the island, whispering, "Everything you do is to protect him. He's so lucky to have you for his sister."