✓ | falling ➝ j. cade

xii. late night talks

❝YOU CAN ONLY BLAME YOUR PROBLEMS ON THE WORLD FOR SO LONG BEFORE IT ALL BECOMES THE SAME OLD SONG.❞
- FALL OUT BOY, THE (SHIPPED) GOLD STANDARD

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Theodosia was tired of thinking. It was all she ever seemed to do anymore. No good ever really came from it, either. At least not these days. It reminded Theodosia of a conversation she once had with her best friend Virginia Schuyler. ("So.. I've been thinking." "You've been thinking? Nothing good ever happens when you think.") So, she found herself agreeing with Virginia. Nothing ever good came from her thinking.

Theodosia pulled herself off of her bed and out of her pile of homework. It was basically finished anyway. She didn't have the slightest idea of what time it was, but she didn't really care. Theodosia's mother had actually been home to make dinner, and Theodosia planned on talking to her more. It was rare that she was home early enough to spend time with her daughter.

Walking down the stairs, Theodosia found the living room and the kitchen that doubled as a dinning room to be empty. Her mother must've retired to her bedroom. Theodosia didn't see why not. It was dark already anyway. Still, she ventured further into the house and knocked at her mother's bedroom door. Theodosia stayed there until she heard her mother's okay to come in.

Theodosia opened the door to find her mother relaxing on her bed with a book.

"Do you want me to turn on the lights? It's a little dark in here," Theodosia offered. Her mother had a mere bedside lap on. It casted a dreamy golden tint on the small, neat room.

"That's alright. You need anything in particular?" Theodosia's mother asked, looking at her daughter over her reading glasses that rested on the bridge of her nose.

"No. Can I join?"

Theodosia's mother smiled at her.

"Always."

Theodosia smiled back at her mother. She laid down at the foot of the bed and stretched out on her stomach. Theodosia's eyes started to scan her mother's bedroom walls. There were several pictures on it.

"You doin' okay, Theo?" JoAnne asked.

"Kinda, I guess. Could be better," Theodosia answered flatly.

"What could be better?"

There was one picture of Theodosia and her brothers that caught her eye, mainly because it was the only one that had both Theodosia and Aaron in it. She wondered about Aaron a lot. Tommy and Alexander never really talked about him much. Her mother didn't either. Theodosia had been so young (nearly two) when he died that she didn't have any memories of her own of him. She knew two things about him, or, rather, that linked the two together outside of the obvious blood relation: she looked just like him and she acted just like him. They were the only redheads in the family.

"Lotta things," Theodosia responded dully.

"Like what?"

"Dad could've never of left and none of this would've ever happened. Aaron could've never gotten in that car. We coulda never moved to Tulsa. My best friend couldn't've killed herself."

Theodosia glanced over at her mother. She had closed her book and sat it next to her. JoAnne was giving her daughter a sad look.