A bend in space-time (Season 2) - The Umbrella Academy

Chapter 12: Heavy handfuls of curls

Chronological markers: this scene fits like a deleted scene from The Umbrella Academy, saison 2, épisode 2, around 36:40 (After Klaus falls asleep at Kitty's Mansion). TW: loss of a relative/partner.

---

Saturday, November 16 1963 - 7:45pm

There are days - just like today - when events seem inexorably destined to get out of hand. This morning, at Merelec's two Dallas stores, we received no less than sixteen new malfunctioning TV sets. Sixteen of them. To be repaired by Thursday evening. May I say that we're not going to be idle, and perhaps some people should plan to go to Grassy Knoll right away, so they can watch Kennedy being assassinated. Sorry, when I'm tired, I give in to cynicism more easily. And I am - right now - exhausted.

As if that wasn't enough, Klaus was well and truly on his way from San Francisco to Dallas, and he managed to get himself arrested, though I couldn't quite work out what he'd done. The officer who called me spoke of 'car-jacking', which surprises me a little, but is a possibility with him. Maybe the Dodge gave up the ghost, no pun intended, and bus service on Interstate 40 is as scarce as rain.

Anyway, I'm still his designated contact. Who else would be? And, of course, everything is more complicated, given that he has no ID and I don't either. I was able to contact James, the lawyer who was one of the 'Children', the one who is also in charge of Kitty's succession. I can tell you that Klaus owes him a whisky or two by now. And that the fact that his father is the Governor and a former beneficiary of Kitty's has helped handsomely.

I finished all the repairs I could before closing the store. I'm out of spare CRTs and tuners anyway, and the supplier's delivery is tomorrow at noon. Lloyd - who also fixes radios in downtown Dallas - would be able to keep working for an hour or two, and I did the only thing I thought humanly appropriate: I went to the police station to pick up Klaus, just as I had done so many times in the past. Truly, it seems that some things in this universe are fated to never change.

I've learned that he wasn't there any more, that he was able to get out a little before nightfall. He doesn't know where I live and work, and - as a result - he also doesn't know where the Katzes' hardware store is. I was soon left with only one option. An obvious and sad option, in the gardens of which it took me only one teleportation to penetrate. And here I am, under the full moon, as if it were destined never to crumble.

In the night, Kitty's mansion would seem to be only sleeping. Gray, against the inky sky, above the gravel driveway where Priscilla was once painted. On the lawn beds, the flowers we sowed in spring are open and waiting for daybreak. Wayne's dahlias and cosmos, and hundreds of yellow marigolds, which will shine golden in the sun tomorrow in the middle of the day. I wonder if Kitty has finally seen them bloom. And now, there in the night, I feel sad that the gardeners won't be coming anymore.

I chase these thoughts away, teleporting once more to the high paned doors. I bend down to retrieve the key from under the doormat, and my heart sinks as I think of Kitty's ring-filled hand, leaving it there one last time on her way to Varanasi. I blink for a long time: really, this day is not going to spare me. I stand up, and my foot immediately crunches on broken glass. I freeze, key in hand, as I notice that one of the small panes is broken, and I sigh. No, I don't think Kitty's house has been burglarized. Klaus's house, in fact, now.

Reflexively, I try to turn on the ceiling light without touching the switch, as I've done dozens and dozens of times, and I sense immediately that the house system is no longer connected to the local electricity supply. In the dim moonlight, I realize that all the furniture has already been covered with white sheets. That this place, so recently filled with the laughter and songs of the Destiny's Children, is now a mere shadow of its former self. I get attached to houses, as I did to Hargreeves Mansion back in the day. For some reason, I think - deep down - that places suffer as much as people.