Delilah was sitting at her dining table, when Jeff leaned forward in front of her and poured her some more coffee. She smiled sweetly and politely thanked him as he pressed his lips against her head, making her blush. She picked up her mug by the handle and took a long sip, then rested the mug back on the table and wiped her lips on her napkin. Jeff finally took a seat at the table and poured himself a bowl of cereal, dipping his spoon in and beginning to munch while Delilah read the morning paper.
"Ya know, there's a small, quiet comfort in routine," Jeff said, "I think that's something a lot of people seem to lose track of. Especially people where I'm from. They think everything needs to be fast paced at all times, nothing but excitement. But there's something nice about knowing that every morning will be the same, having breakfast with someone you love, that's nice." Delilah blushed, nodding, lifting the mug back to her lips and drinking more. It had been ages since she'd had a nice breakfast with a man she loved, and she insisted on savoring the moment. She started to let her thoughts drift away to how strange the last year of her life had been, and how much she herself had changed. When she'd started this team, if she'd known where things would end up, she likely wouldn't have believed it. But now, to be sitting here, she was thrilled with where it had led. Her adoration for her sons interest had, in return, spawned new joy for her as well. "What do you wanna do today?" Jeff asked. "I have a body to deal with downstairs, but after the embalming, I'm free and up for anything," Delilah said. "God you're creepy and I love it," Jeff replied, making her blush again. *** Hawley had worn dresses before. She had stolen some from her mother, she had worn some stuff that Reynolds had gotten her, she had worn the one that belonged to Gorey for the concert, but this was the first time she was wearing a dress solely designated for a rite of passage; a school dance. A dress created for a specific purpose, for a girl her age, and she was so happy. Happier than she'd likely ever been. The dress was emerald green, which mixed well with her beautiful blonde hair, and had a black waistband with a large bow in the back. Standing in front of the mirror of the dress shop, Clarissa and Misty beside her, she couldn't contain the infectious grin on her face. "It looks fantastic, honestly," Clarissa said, folding her arms, "I think you found the one." "You really think so?" Hawley asked, turning in front of the mirror to admire every angle, "You really think it looks good?" "It looks perfect on you," Misty chimed in, "seriously. You look so pretty." Hawley wanted to cry. The last half a year had felt like she was living in a dream come true. Ever since moving in with Reynolds, getting to be who she wanted, who she was, it didn't seem real. She was so lucky, and she loved that. Clarissa's phone buzzed, and she walked off to text someone back, leaving Hawley and Misty alone. "Thank you for helping me pick something," Hawley said, "I don't know that I have much fashion sense." "Well, it's a learned trait, you'll get there," Misty replied, "but it's the least I could do considering you're going to the dance with me." Hawley nodded, blushing, smiling. She'd never in her life imagined one day she'd be going to a dance, with a girl, in a dress. Sometimes your dreams do come true. This was a realization that was also dawning on Janice Gorey at this very moment. *** Gorey was sitting in Reynolds kitchen, Reynolds sitting with her. Neither one wanted to speak, because to speak would be to break the magic of the moment. Gorey chewed on her lip and crossed her legs as Reynolds opened a new bag of shrimp chips and started crunching away. Ever since that admittance in the street, neither one knew how to proceed. They were both simply happy things were as they were now. "She's probably pissed," Reynolds finally said, "Laura." "Oh," Gorey said, waving her hand, "Nah. I called her, she understands. Apparently she was waiting for it to happen." "So was your mom," Reynolds said, "...are we just that oblivious?" "Well, speak for yourself," Gorey replied, smirking. The last few weeks, since he had stopped her from leaving, had been just spectacular. The kind of happiness one generally attributes to the hormonal changes one has when getting their first real crush as a teenager. They were at that level of joy, and it felt nice. Reynolds checked his watch. "I guess I should start heading to the school," he said, "Chaperoning the dance. You going?" "Well I'm custodial, so I'm kind of expected," Gorey remarked. "Do you wanna go with me?" Reynolds asked, and Gorey smiled, looking down at her shoes. "...okay," she whispered. He laughed, stood up and walked by her to head to his bedroom, kissing the top of her head as he passed by. Gorey had never been on dates, she'd never had any romance, though to be honest she'd also never really tried at any of that stuff. She just sort of assumed that, because of who she was and how she was, nobody would be remotely interested in her. She had regularly weighed her own pros and cons and always come away with more cons than pros when it came to being girlfriend material. After a few minutes, Reynolds returned from the bedroom, pulling his jacket on. Gorey stood up and adjusted his tie, the both of them smiling meekly. After she finished she stepped back to admire her handiwork, and Reynolds put his hands on her face, then pushed some of her hair back behind her ear and made her blush even deeper. Reynolds then leaned in and pushed his lips against Gorey's, surprising her, which was weird because they'd kissed so much by now that she shouldn't be surprised anymore. She shut her eyes and happily kissed him back. "I'll see you at the school," Reynolds whispered, before planting a kiss on her forehead. As she watched him leave, she couldn't help but feel like a stupid happy idiot. This was all she'd wanted for so long, and now she finally had it, and she didn't know how that had happened. All she knew was that she was overjoyed with this turn of events, and couldn't believe how close she'd come to losing this possibility. Maybe for the dance she would get dressed up. Just cause she was a janitor didn't mean she couldn't be pretty once in a while. *** The dance was, to put it bluntly, surprisingly magnificent. The gym had been transformed into a ballroom, and everyone looked their best. Hawley and Misty entered, in their respective dresses (Misty's was a tight black dress, strapless, with black matching heels and a black ribbon in her hair), holding hands. And while they might've gotten a few odd looks, they didn't care, and eventually the onlookers turned their attention elsewhere. They approached the snack table and got themselves each a soda, before turning and just people watching, looking at their fellow dancing students. "Hey, don't you two look great," Reynolds said, coming up beside them. "Are you wearing a suit?" Hawley asked. "Well, it's a formal affair, after all," Reynolds said, "it's actually one of my nicest suits from my gameshow days." "You look like you're presenting at an awards show," Misty said, "and not one of the good ones." "Well that's uncalled for," Reynolds said, "...wait, is it the adult video awards? Cause that'd be okay." "Please, you're not prestigious enough for that," Hawley remarked. Misty laughed, then spotted some friends and walked off to talk to them, excusing herself momentarily, leaving Hawley and Reynolds alone. Hawley looked up at Reynolds and asked, "...is Gorey coming?" "She is, she's my date," Reynolds said, "I'm surprised you came with Misty." "She's had a bad year," Hawley said, "after what Drew did to her." This got Reynolds attention. He lowered the cup in his hands from his lips, wiped his mouth on his jacket sleeve and eyeballed her. "...what did he do?" he asked. *** Delilah and Jeff had gone out to dinner after her work was finished. She insisted on seafood, and he wasn't about to suggest something else, he was just happy to still be given the chance to be with her. Sitting inside, opening crabs open with their shell crackers, Jeff honestly couldn't imagine anywhere else he'd rather be or anything else he'd rather be doing, which said a lot considering he wasn't particularly a fan of cracking open seafood. "It's one of those situations where you have to question whether the effort is worth it," Delilah said, "in the instance of crab, I would argue it is. But for as expensive and difficult as lobster is...I'd have to go with no. It's vastly overrated, and honestly, it tastes the same as any other shellfish." "That's a dangerous opinion to have," Jeff replied, pulling a crab claw apart, adding, "you better watch who you say that around, there's some purists out there who would crucify you for not extolling the virtues of lobster." "Let them crucify me, I'd rather be killed for my correct beliefs than spend another day living a lie about a wildly overhyped wet bug," Delilah remarked, "don't get me wrong, I'll eat it, but I'm not about to spend my life savings on an idiot that couldn't avoid a net when it lives in the vastest space imaginable." Jeff cackled as he cracked open another leg. Delilah had a way with words, and a way with tickling him with her vocabulary and humor. He couldn't believe she'd opted to give him another chance, but god was he oh so grateful for the opportunity. "Afterwards," Delilah said, "there's this frozen yogurt place you should see." "I'll go anywhere with you so long as it is with you," Jeff replied, making her blush. It seemed like everywhere people looked, love was blooming. Love of all kinds, platonic and romantic. And yet...nobody could've suspected the hatred that was about to be unleashed that night. *** Drew was walking across the Founders Bridge, the largest and tallest bridge in town, that overlooked the only river around for miles. He had his headphones in, and was just trying to take his mind off things. He knew Misty had likely told someone what he'd done, and he knew that, just as before, he soon would have to pack up his things and head on out of town once again. He wanted so badly to be able to control himself, but it just didn't seem possible. He stopped and let the cool night wind waft by him, blowing his short hair, until his playlist came to an end and he heard the familiar sound of footsteps approaching him from behind. Drew turned, and saw John Reynolds standing there. "Oh," he said, "hey coach." "Did you do it?" Reynolds asked. A cold chill blew by, making Drew shiver. "Did I do...what, exactly? You're gonna have to be more specific than that," he said. "You know goddamn well what," Reynolds said, his hands clenching into tight fists. "Yeah, I figured she said something," Drew said, sighing, "listen, for what it's worth, I'm disgusted with myself too. I don't take any pride in what I do. I hate it. I wish I could not do it. But I...I can't control it, and it's such a sick impulse that it's impossible to get help for without being thrown directly into jail." "Oh, where I'm gonna send you is far fuckin' worse than jail," Reynolds said, grabbing Drew by his shirt collar and pulling him towards him until their faces were an inch apart; Reynolds glared into Drews eyes, his breaths heavy, as he asked, "do you have any kind of idea the damage you have done? You think you suffer, with your impulses? Do you ever think about the victims? How much they suffer for a lifetime afterwards? Often never able to trust anyone fully again, especially romantically. You've decimated a young girls innocence." "I know, and I...I take full responsibility for that and-" "No you don't," Reynolds said, "if you did, you would've come forward yourself. You would've snitched on your own misdeeds, gotten her the help she needed, instead of hiding out here in the shadows until you could slink away unnoticed and forgotten. You don't get to walk into MY town, coach MY team, and hurt MY girls. That isn't how this shakes out. So here's the situation, I'm gonna let you leave. I am. But I'm gonna send someone after you a day after you've gone. Figure 24 hour head start is enough to have you running scared, feeling like they do, about to be caught." Drew nodded. His hand ran down to the waist of his jeans and he gripped the handle of a small switchblade, then pulled it out without John noticing. "Whatever you say, coach," Drew whispered, jamming it into Reynolds side, making him scream in agony. In a direct response, Reynolds stumbled back, as Drew approached him, and he instinctually shoved. He didn't even think about it. He just did it because his brain had entered fight or flight mode. And it was a good thing he did, because the moment Drew stumbled backward into the street, off the inner walkway of the bridge, was the moment he was struck by the car. Reynolds leaned against the cold metal of the bridge, trying not to lose consciousness, as the car doors opened and he heard a man and a woman get out. "Oh my god, oh my god," the woman muttered. He recognized that voice. Delilah. He felt a hand on his shoulder and looked up, his eyesight growing blurry, to see Jeff standing over him. "Hey buddy, we're gonna, we're gonna get you some help, okay? Just stay awake for me," Jeff said. Reynolds laughed, coughing as he did. Just a few weeks prior, he himself had been hit by a car, as he approached Gorey's from behind. That goddamned hearing aid. It'd finally won him over. *** Hawley was sitting out on the school fountain, fidgeting with the long gloves she'd worn with her dress. She heard the sound of heels, and looked up to see Gorey coming up, dressed in a beautiful dark blue dress with black frills, her hair pulled up. Hawley smiled. "Wow, I've never seen you look so girly," Hawley said. "I have my feminine ways," Gorey replied, "Is Reynolds here?" "He was, but I haven't seen him for a while," Hawley replied. Gorey sat herself down on the fountain by Hawley and started stroking her back. "Are you okay? What are you doing out here?" Gorey asked. "...I don't know," Hawley said, "I guess...I spent my whole life wanting to be a girl, to be seen as a girl, and now here I am, in a dress, at a dance, and everyone accepts me, but...I still feel like I don't fit in and I'm starting to worry that that's never going to go away. That no matter what amount of medications I take or surgeries I may have or whatever efforts I put in...I'm always gonna be different, and I don't wanna be different. I just wanna be one of them." "Sweetheart," Gorey said, "you are one of them. Trust me on that. Nobody can ever take that away from you. And if, god forbid, someone tries, you've got me and Reynolds and Clarissa and even Misty to stand up for you. We've got your back, kiddo, okay? But trust me when I tell you that, of all the girls at this school, you're the girliest." "That's easy for you to say, you're a janitor," Hawley replied. Hawley and Gorey started to laugh, and Hawley hugged Gorey, who happily hugged her back. "It's nice," Hawley whispered, "having you and Reynolds, having, like...a surrogate family. A new dad, and a...mom?" "Awww, well, you can call me that if you like, but-" Gorey started, but Hawley pulled away and pointed. "No, my mom," Hawley said. Gorey looked behind her, and there, standing in the walkway, was Ellie Hawley's mother. She smiled and waved politely, leaving the girls completely confused as to what was going on. When had she gotten back in town? How had she known to come here to find her? What was she even DOING back home? "Oh," Gorey muttered, "oh this is awkward."
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GRAVE INNINGS is about A funeral home that has sponsored a local little league, the coach who is a disgraced reality show host, a young transgirl and the odd family they create for one another. Archives
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