TROUVAILLE ... l.danes (REWRITE)

chapter nineteen; the past

A FAMILY ON THE BRINK OF COLLAPSE 

nineteen-eighty-four

MARLON ST James has been trying to say the same thing about flu shots since the Mayor called him up to the small raised platform at the front of Miss Patty's Dance Studio that is supposed to act as a stage during town meetings.

Nobody is listening.

Poor Uncle Marlon. Nobody cares about the flu like they used to, and they certainly don't care enough to go and get their yearly shot from their town doctor. Yet, there he stands year after year, practically begging his patients just to sit in his room for five minutes while the needle goes in and then comes back out all at once.

Not that Lucas is actually paying attention either. He'd been convinced by Michelle Doose to come along, her fingers curling around his as she'd pushed right up against him and promised to cheer him on at his next track meet if he'd go to one town meeting with her. He loves listening to girls cheer his name. So, he slunk in behind her, avoiding Shelley and Olive's pointed glares – he should be used to it by now, three years of high school stuck on the receiving end of their vitriol, it should have made him stronger – and sat near the middle where she'd wanted. His arm has barely moved from the back of her old wooden chair and if he's not careful, he's going to get splinters. And then he's going to have to spend ages with Uncle Marlon going over the risks of infection.

He's had the same scolding over and over and over again.

He's had enough.

Michelle leans up to whisper how bored she is, lips ghosting over the shell of his ear. He twists his head to give her better access, but unfortunately that just allows Shelley and Olive to grace his eyesight. They're sitting at the back of the dance hall, sharing a bag of popcorn and are whispering to each other without trying to hide it despite the fact that Michelle's uncle, Taylor, keeps shushing them.

Olive throws a sweet – Shelley would never eat salty popcorn – kernel of popcorn into her mouth and leans close to her best friend to whisper to her. Her dark brown skin glows under the faint lighting of the dance hall and she's twisted her tight braids into a bigger braid that falls down her back. Her tongue piercing glints as she pokes her tongue out at Lucas and returns to gossiping with Shelley, who is trying to hide her giggles behind her hand.

Jeff is sitting in the row behind them, obviously high and obviously enjoying being so close to the girl he's had a crush on since he laid eyes on her. He winks at Lucas from across the hall and goes back to not listening to anything, instead focusing intently on the knife-like curve of Olive's cheekbones. Noticing his presence, Olive turns to offer him some popcorn and his usual delirious smile is replaced by a bright grin.

Lucas should be sitting with them. Laughing along with Shelley, getting high with Jeff, stealing popcorn from the bag on Olive's lap. He should be sitting at the back of the hall and actually enjoying his time here. Why the hell did he come here with Michelle Doose when he could have been here with people he actually enjoys being around?

He turns his attention back to Marlon, who gives up trying to speak and sinks into his seat at the front of the hall. His wife pats his shoulder gently. He'll be in a bad mood for all of an hour before he gets home and is surrounded by the warmth of his family, the wife who runs her fingers through his thin hair to soothe him to sleep and the daughter who reads aloud when it starts to snow outside and the flames crackle in the fireplace.

Home.

Not a house that feels emptier with each passing second.

A father who spends most of his waking hours sitting in his hardware store or the always-cold office above it, the bags under his eyes growing heavier and darker as he gives up entirely on sleep. His wife is no longer in the bed beside him. He can't quite bring himself to breach the gap on her side, the chasm growing larger and larger, until it is a black hole he refuses to go near. He locked the bedroom door a long time ago and pretended he could not see it any longer.

A daughter who sneaks out through creaky windows, climbing down the drain pipes with a cigarette hanging from her lips and the moon as the only witness to her crime. She comes home, just as dawn is cracking, with smeared black lipstick and spray paint staining the crevices in her palm, and when the police come knocking, she feigns innocence time and time again. She has no idea how to talk to their father. So she does everything he tells her not to do and pretends it was the ghost they refuse to talk about that still haunts their hallways.

And a son who kisses girls he can't remember the name of and runs until the air in his lungs turns to fire. He hung up his old life in return for a letterman jacket he wears as armour and lost everything he held dear to him, because, one way or another, everyone leaves eventually. Might as well get rid of them first before they decide to turn their back on him. If he's going to be alone, it's going to be on his terms. What's the point in having a family when the family don't want you?

Lucas sinks further into his seat and tries to forget about how cold Michelle's hand is as she wraps it around his.

A mother who's dead.

A mother who left them behind to pick up the pieces she shattered with one final goodbye. She extended her hand and wrapped it around their hearts, colder even than the snow falling outside, and when her head lolled in the other direction, their most vital organs were pulled out. Someone forgot to give them back. And now they are forced to live in a house haunted by her memory. Every pink wall, every freshly grown strawberry, every reminder that she lived once and then stopped living just as quick.

A mother no more. A family on the brink of collapse.

And here Michelle Doose is trying to worm her way into his bedroom like every other girl who captures him in the hallway. Keep them all at arms length and you'll never have to feel anything. His head turns, just a little, to catch sight of Sookie St James slipping through the rows of chairs to sit next to her cousin, instantly reaching for popcorn. Never feel anything again. If only it was that easy.

Suddenly, a presence appears behind him and a very familiar (very strong) smell fills his nose before he can turn around. Jeff slots his head between him and Michelle, causing the darker-haired girl to let out a huff and pull away, crossing her arms over her chest as if that will somehow get across to Jeff that she's mad. He's never been very good at picking up social cues.

"Hey, uh, Olive's baked some cool shit so we're gonna head to hers after and, like, watch Alien." Jeff loves watching Alien when he's high. It's something to do with Sigourney Weaver and the intense fear he feels that an actual alien is going to pop out of his chest at any moment. Most people would hate it. Jeff's a bit weird that way. "You coming with?"

"Actually, we're on a–"

Lucas cuts off Michelle. "'Course. I won't pass up on Alien." Jeff grins, ruffles his hair, and crosses back over to let the girls know he's coming along. Three years and he might get to sit next to Shelley while watching a movie again, her floral scent clinging to his nose as her head falls onto his shoulder. He sends them all a smile and receives a few in return. Actual, genuine smiles from the girls who have spent three years avoiding him as much as they can.

Maybe, not all memories have to be haunted houses. 

Maybe, not all families are the people living in your house.