Fri December 11, 2074 1:45 am: Route A9 (eastbound)-- Downtown, Pleasantview
“Of all the stupid, reckless, irresponsible things! Do you have any idea what could have happened to you out there tonight?” Beau was slipping down low in his seat. He was three-years-old when his own mother died and the way Dustin told it, Brandi Broke had not been much of a disciplinarian anyway. On the rare occasions when Beau found himself on the receiving end of some else’s railing mother, the tirades rolled off of him like water upon wax. Not so tonight. Maybe it was the way the street lamps flooded her face with shadows or maybe her late night tussled hair made her seem slightly crazed, but Beau was terrified.
“When I was your age, folks found themselves at the bottom of a ditch for less. Just the two of you being seen together might have been enough!” Mrs. Bennett was glaring at her daughter through the rearview mirror. Felicity leaned back against the headrest with her elbow propped on the door. Her eyelids drooped. She appeared disinterested.
“Mom, when you were our age, Uriel Dottore was in office.” Here, Angelica whipped around in her seat to face her daughter.
“You think Lillith Pleasant’s administration has anymore use for you?” Felicity did not respond. She focused her attention out of the window, winding her long red hair between her fingers.
The turn signal of the car ahead of them blinked on and off, casting light into the interior of the minivan. Beau watched the light play against the wall, and thought that this was the way of the universe. He would probably never encounter the people in the car ahead of him but without their knowledge, something that they had done was changing the way he viewed his surroundings. The wall was red and then black, red and then black again.
Mrs. Bennett collapsed back into her seat with a huff. Beau felt guilty for this momentary rift between mother and daughter. He felt guilty for their arrest. He felt guilty for all of it, but he would not take the night back. He would not trade his actions for a better, more enjoyable time. What was right held more gravity than what would have been easy.
“It ain’t even the police that you should have been worried about no ways,” Mrs. Bennett continued. “It’s the people in that restaurant. And don’t try to tell me that times are different. All I would have to do is open up a newspaper and show you just how different times are.” Felicity began picking at the rubber seal along the window frame. Beau thought that he knew how she felt—That she had something to say but lacked the words to say it.
“And you,” Beau’s head shot up toward the rearview mirror. Mrs. Bennett was peering at him now or rather, as much of him as she could see from the passenger seat. “You ought to be ashamed of yourself getting my daughter mixed up in something like this. How old are you again?”
“Seventeen, Mrs. Bennett.”
“Well you should have known better.”
“I would have never let anything happen to—“
“Son, I don’t know what you think you could have done if someone got it in their head to harm you both.” Beau planted the heels of his hands on the cushion beneath him and pulled his entire body upright. It seemed too serious of a conversation to slouch through.
“I am sorry if we were in any danger but it didn’t feel that way,” he said. Mrs. Bennett snorted.
“’Course it didn’t. Boys your age are invincible. I’m guessing you got that memo.” Beau felt quite the opposite but he kept quiet. Mrs. Bennett was squinting at the mirror as though it would help her to see through him, to the heart. “Does your mother know you spent the night in a police station?” Beau shook his head.
“My mother is deceased.”
“Your father then? Legal guardian? Next of kin?”
“My brother and no.” He left it at that. Dustin would have beaten him within an inch of his life if he knew about Felicity. The thought of it made his insides squirm, even though he was big enough now to hit back and do damage.
When Beau thought about it, tonight was very much in keeping with the ebb and flow of his life. He would always be vulnerable to blows. His opponents would always be tougher, stronger and closed-fisted. The result of such a fight would be predictable but he would fight nonetheless. The battle was not a means, but the end in and of itself. It was the fact that he stood up at all that mattered.
Mrs. Bennett propped her weight against the door and said nothing. Beau looked out the window. Glittering buildings flashed by. The phase, skyscraper windows burn like urban stars occurred to him. He was sorry that he did not have anything to write with. He looked up at the rear view mirror. Mrs. Bennett was busying herself with the glove compartment when Mr. Bennett’s reflection caught his eye.
Mr. Bennett appeared to have been staring at him for quite some time. He did not flinch when Beau noticed him staring. He smiled broadly instead, alight with praise and support.
Sat, October 31, 2074 12:30 pm: Tellerman Farm- Middlebourne, Pleasantview
"Mom, there's a really freak'n sweet car in the driveway," Felicity said, nearly pressing her face against the glass to get a better look.
"Well who is it? Is it Mr. Tellerman?" Angelica picked up a basket of fresh laundry and carted it into the master bedroom. Felicity squinted hard into the distance.
"No, it's someone else. Tall guy, blond hair, dark skin, late thirties. Oh crap, I think he just saw me," Felicity giggled, ducking below the windowsill.
"Serves you right for spying on people through windows," Angelica tisked. The visitor in question was rounding the corner when Angelica flung open the door. Her family had been living at Tellerman Farm for less than two weeks and in that time, there had been no shortage of straight-laced men coming by with unusual requests. Mr. Tellerman's business associates, as they called themselves. Angelica was smart enough not to ask about what sort of business.
The man that ascended Angelica's front porch was immaculately groomed and lightly misted with an imported after-shave. He seemed to be the sort of guy who spent more money on haircuts and manicures than she did. To top it off, he had a very shrewd look about him that Angelica did not like at all. She could just picture him sat up in some boardroom bribing police officers, ordering murders, organizing huge drug deals...
"Mrs. Bennett?"
"Yes?" Angelica raised her head to meet his eye level. She was determined not to appear intimidated. This guy probably ruled over the lot of them, every businessman that had ever passed through her door.
"Good afternoon. I'm Troy Tellerman-Caliente. We spoke over the phone yesterday," he said. Angelica allowed her shoulders to relax into a slump. She had completely forgotten. In her own defense, there was absolutely no family resemblance between him and her employer. But judging by the car, he was very likely who he claimed to be.
"Of course. Do come in, Mr. Caliente," Angelica said, making room for his entrance.
"Thank you," he said. "I'm sorry to burst in on you like this. I tried to call beforehand but the line was busy."
"Oh it's no trouble at all. I was just putting away some laundry." Angelica softly closed the door while Mr. Caliente took a look around.
"It's... Wow, it looks exactly the same in here," he marveled, leaning over to peer into the kitchen. "My mother would have been very pleased with you. She loved this little house so."
"Well, we like it just fine too. Can I offer you something to drink? Coffee? Tea? Water?"
"No, thank you, that's quite alright." Angelica thought that he had a charming smile. She was happy to have somehow coaxed it out of him. And of course he didn't want anything to drink. He probably had some busty, 19-year-old personal assistant sitting in his car, prim as you please, mixing him a highball while she waited. Angelica was distracted from her inane imaginings when the alarm clock went off in her son's bedroom. It was shrill and deafening even from the hallway.
"Oh for the love of-" Angelica whined. She then took a deep breath before bellowing, "Seth!" There followed a series of frenzied thumping sounds from the second floor and the ultimate cessation of that hideous alarm. Angelica turned to Mr. Caliente.
"He's a late riser on the weekends," she apologized.
"No need to make excuses for him, I was a kid once." There was that smile again. Angelica wiped her detergent-soiled hands on her skirt.
"Well, I don't suppose you came out here to listen to me yammer on about when my son decides to start his day," Angelica twittered. Mr. Caliente drummed his fingers at his sides.
"You must think me dreadfully sentimental to be doing this," he said. Angelica did think so but she also thought that it was one of the most agreeable character flaws that a man could have.
"It don't matter what I think," she said with a shrug. "Is there anything you wanted to see in particular?"
"I would like to visit the pond, if you don't mind," he said quietly, searching her eyes. Maybe he expected her to ask him why.
"Whatever you like suits me well and good. I'll just escort you around back. I know you can find your own way but I don't suppose it would be polite for me to just send you off."
"That is very kind of you, Mrs. Bennett."
"Here we are," Angelica said cheerily. Her daughter was still in the den when they entered. Felicity's face paled at the sight of their guest. He extended his hand to her.
"I'm J. L.'s brother, Troy Roan Tellerman-Caliente." Felicity shook his hand, her expression oddly glazed.
"Felicity Stephanie Bennett," she croaked. The poor girl looked as though she was going to faint dead away. Angelica couldn't tell whether it was from the shame of having been caught watching him earlier or from the way that her voice broke when she introduced herself or if it was from something else altogether.
"Charmed," he said with a gentle and dignified nod of his head.
"Felicity is fifteen," Angelica said off-handedly. "She just started her sophomore year this term." Mr. Caliente turned to face Angelica.
"Is that so? I have a son the exact same age." Felicity was staring at their guest with rapt attention.
"Did you hear that, Lissy? This handsome man has a son your age," Angelica teased.
"Mom," Felicity squealed. She was completely mortified. It was priceless.
"Well I'm going to get back to the house work," Angelica declared. "It was real nice meeting you, Mr. Caliente."
"And you likewise," he replied. Before heading out of the back door, he turned to Felicity and winked. Her cheeks crimsoned. When he was safely out of earshot, Felicity turned on her mother.
"Just because we're residents now does not mean that you can go around suggesting stuff like that to people like him," Felicity huffed.
"Darling, I didn't suggest a thing to him. I was talking to you," Angelica said, merrily spinning on her heels to leave. Maybe it wasn't right to imply that her Townie-born daughter could potentially be interested in his blue-blooded son but Angelica never wasted an opportunity to embarrass her children.
In the bedroom, Angelica went back to folding her sheets. This was her favorite chore. She loved the smell and the caress of fresh laundry. She loved the meditative process of folding.
Her work finally completed, Angelica stared blankly at the blue gingham curtains dressing the window in front of her. She traced a path along the pattern with her fingers. What was he doing out there? She hadn't thought much of it when he had first called to ask if he could come say good-bye to the place but what did that really entail?
Angelica reached tentatively for the curtain. Could it hurt to look?
Outside, Mr. Caliente stood on the little wooden bridge at the center of the pond, leaning casually against the railing. He was gaping off into the distance, maybe at the mountains or the millet barn. He had probably spent much of his boyhood in that very spot, talking and laughing with his mother. Just then, he buried his head underneath his arms as though shielding himself from falling debris. He seemed to be more ghost than man. Feeling that she was intruding, Angelica let go of the curtain.
This was what good-bye entailed. Whatever it was that he longed to have back, he was trying to convince himself that he never needed anyway.
