Elijah Griggs (egriggs) wrote in casefile, @ 2018-04-17 13:55:00 |
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Elijah had been quick to lock his apartment door. Megan was still on her way and he knew she was not going to understand his sudden dismissal. After hiding the photograph he’d found in a soup pot (which was then buried within several other pots like a Russian Nesting Pot), he moved to pull the blinds on the windows and cover each with their respective curtains. As he was hopping around to hide the evidence, he heard footsteps down the hall and froze. Megan. “Shit, shit, shit,” he swore under his breath. “Shit.” Megan stood still in the middle of the sidewalk for a few moments after Eli hung up on her. Then she immediately tried calling him back, but his phone went to voicemail. Hanging up, she texted him. Then a few more times. After her third text, she started walking again, with much more determination and much heavier feet. She texted again that she was still coming over. When she reached his apartment door, she knocked, then called through the door, "Eli! Are you ok? What happened?" No response, so she knocked again, harder this time. Another text, then more knocking on the door, which was steadily progressing to banging on the door, along with a sixth text. "Eli, please!" she called out, trying desperately (and failing) to keep the desperation and concern out of her voice. "Please talk to me." Wiping her teary eyes, she sent one last text, then turned and trudged away from his apartment. Fine. If he wasn't going to talk to her, wasn't going to explain what happened, then she didn't care (or so she tried to convince herself). She was just going to go home. Eli stood by the door as she called to him. He could hear the concern coloring her voice and it killed him not to answer. He’d already silenced his phone, but he was still madly texting Nathan. He needed to know to keep an eye out for Megan, but he also needed to get to the apartment as soon as possible. The wait was rough, but her voice was breaking his heart. His hand hovered over the doorknob, ready to turn, just as she gave up and left. He sighed in embittered relief. Now it was a waiting game for Nathan to show. He cast a glance toward the pile of books he’d been playfully collecting for Megan minutes ago and frowned. He had no idea how he was going to make this up to her. Especially since it wasn’t something he could easily explain. He was screwed. Nathan was honestly surprised by how many texts he'd suddenly gotten from his son. He was just getting out of the shower, after getting home from work, when he heard his phone going crazy out in the living room. He grabbed a towel and started drying off as he went to check his phone, and found (he counted) eleven texts from Eli, all in fairly short order. He started texting back, not sure what the hell was going on, or why Eli was texting him. After confirming that it wasn't anything about exterminating or Eli getting arrested again (those seemed to be the only times that Eli had actually reached out to him first) he agreed to come over, though he didn't know what exactly was going to happen when he got there. He pulled on some clean clothes, hung the towel back in the bathroom, then stuffed his feet into his boots, grabbed his keys, and headed over. He sent another text while stopped at a light, because his phone had been binging away while he'd been driving, and it binged more again the rest of the drive. After parking outside the apartment complex, he glanced at the latest batch of texts from his son, but didn't respond: he was right outside, may as well let Eli get it out in person, whatever was going on. He did watch out for Eli's girlfriend, though. He wasn't sure why she would want to kill him, but he was still glad to not run across her. Reaching the apartment, Nate knocked on the door. "Elijah?" he called. The door swung open almost immediately after Eli had heard his father’s voice. “Get in here,” he urged, ushering Nathan into the apartment and then quickly closing the door after him. He locked it and then deadbolted it. He tossed a towel in front of the door and tucked it along the edge--just in case someone could somehow peer in through the crack. He stared at his father for a good minute, unable to say anything or really do much more than glare. And then he dug into the oven for the pot and slammed it onto the counter in front of Nathan. “You have some major explaining to do.” Nathan stepped into the apartment when ordered to do so, and the way Eli was acting would almost have been funny if there wasn't obviously something going on. What it was… Nate had no idea. He couldn't think of anything he'd done (or hadn't done) recently that would make Eli act like this. And then he slammed a pot down on the counter. As if that explained everything. Nathan looked quizzically at the pot, then over at Elijah, raising an eyebrow. "That looks like a pot with a lot of smaller pots inside it. I guess that's not too bad an idea for storing pots?" Elijah huffed indignantly for a moment before pointing at the pot. “I’m not touching it again. I put it inside the pots. I didn’t want someone seeing it. Hell, I didn’t want to see it. I’d like to know why I have it and what it was doing inside the book you gave me. That Star Wars one.” As if Nathan would remember. Contrary to popular belief, Nathan actually did remember almost everything related to his son. Like the fact that, the first time he's come back all those years ago, Eli had been big into Star Wars, so he had bought his son the newest book when it came out, planning for it to be a Christmas present. And then, when he had to suddenly leave town again, he had given it to Eli as a going-away gift (though he hadn't told Eli that he was going to be leaving). But he had no idea what Eli was talking about, because he hadn't put anything inside that book before giving it to him. Curious, though, he stepped closer to the pot and looked inside. There, in the smallest pot, was what looked like a polaroid picture. Nathan reached in and fished it out, then turned it so he could see what it was a picture of. Which turned out to be a who. Clearing his throat, Nathan attempted a calm, level voice. "Well. This looks like an old picture. Of… is that Cora March? Your mother adored her, you know." Plausible deniability. "I don't know how this got into your book, but I didn't put it there." That, at least, was the truth. He thought back to that day, over two decades ago now. He had been packing his things to leave. The book for Eli was on the counter, he was going to just write a note then put it on Wynnie's porch for him. And then Wynnie had called: could Eli come over? The babysitter had cancelled, and she couldn't take their son to the catering job she had. They were right down the street. Nathan had looked around his apartment. The pictures were still out. He grabbed them all, stuffed them into a garbage bag. Or he thought he did. But this photo in his hand was definitely not supposed to be here. How had it gotten into Eli's book? As Nathan reached into the pot, Eli took a step backward, grimacing. And the reaction was not what he had expected. His mouth opened and closed several times as he fought for the words that were eluding him. Nate didn’t put it there. “Well, unless the bookseller had access to Cora March, I’m not sure where else it could have come from. And why the fuck would Wynnie have a topless photo of Cora March?” Think fast, Nathan. There was no way that Eli could prove that Nathan had taken the photo. But then, if he decided to show his mother, or the police, well… nobody in this town trusted him, anyway. Looking at the photo, though, he felt that old familiar feeling in the back of his mind. The one he'd kept locked away for so long. The one that had drove him out of town twice. He set the photo down on the counter-- face-down, so they could only see the black and white of the back. "Well, I don't think your mother and I were still married when that picture was taken, so I don't know what she was doing or why." “Are you trying to suggest that Wynnie was taking pictures of Cora? My mother. My sweet, charming mother. You’re trying to say that Wynnie, who dropped everything for both of us, was secretly out and about taking topless pictures of Cora March?” Eli’s eyes narrowed dangerously thin. He clenched his fists and then opened them, taking a step away from the pots and the picture. “Let’s find out, then. I’ll call her and ask.” Nathan was well-aware of Eli's tendency to come out swinging, so when he saw his son clenching his fists, he braced for a punch. What Eli said instead felt worse than a sucker punch to the gut. They couldn't tell Wynnie about the photo. It was bad enough that Eli had found it, when it was supposed to have been destroyed with the rest. The more people who knew, the more likely it would get out. If it got out, more questions would be asked. And maybe… "No." The word was out of Nathan's mouth before he'd even finished thinking it. "I mean, you shouldn't disturb her. She might be working. It's an old photo, anyway. You should just throw it away and forget about it. Or burn it." “Oh, no, Nathan,” Eli started, reaching for his cell phone. “I think we’ll call her. If she’s working, she’ll put down the pie plate and answer the phone. I don’t think she’d like what you’re insinuating about her. So either tell me the truth or get the fuck out of my apartment.” There had to be a reason that there was a picture of Cora March in their possession. He certainly didn’t want it. He was more than happy to burn it. But he wanted to know why. He deserved to know why. Had that book made it cleanly into his donation box, Megan could’ve found it. Or some unsuspecting child. The mere idea of it made him livid. More than that, he couldn’t stand his father’s nonchalant excuses. As if it weren’t a big deal--having a topless photo of a dead woman who was now being speculated for having been murdered or whatever. “For once in your fucking life, tell me the truth.” The truth. If only it was that simple. But it wasn't. It never was, and it never would be. But he had to tell Eli something, or he was going to call Wynnie. And if he called Wynnie, she would have no idea what Eli was talking about. So he had to say something. Maybe it didn't have to be the truth. Or at least not the whole truth. If he at least admitted to the picture being his, maybe Eli would let the matter drop. He could blame the aliens. Hell, for all he knew, they actually were the reason behind how the picture ended up in Eli's book. But Eli had never believed him that aliens were real, so he would scoff at any excuse involving them. A small amount of truth, then. Nate reached up and scratched at the back of his neck, looking down at the back of the photo. "Okay. Fine. It's mine. But I swear to you, I don't know how it ended up in your book, but I didn't put it there. Goddamnit, you were eight years old. I may be the world's shittiest father, but even I wouldn't do that." He tried to remember. He had gathered up all the pictures (or so he thought) and stuffed them into a garbage bag. The garbage bag was stuffed into his closet, along with the evidence of the packing he'd already done. Wynnie dropped Eli off. Eli had actually been excited to be visiting: this was back when his son liked him. Nate had said that Eli showing up short notice like that meant that he hadn't had a chance to wrap or hide his Christmas present, so he could have it early. And he gave him that book. Then he went into the kitchen to get a snack for Eli. When he came back out, the book was sitting, closed, on the table next to the couch. And then they had sat down to watch the newly-remastered Star Wars together. A few hours later, Wynnie picked Eli up, and Nate finished packing and left town the next day. Somehow, one photo had been missed. And somehow, it had ended up in Eli's book. "Can you just… not tell anyone? I'll take the picture, I'll destroy it. You can pretend you never saw it." Eli exhaled a heavy sigh and closed his eyes. He had no idea what to do now. If Megan had seen the photo, and his panic would have been impossible to hide so he would’ve shown her eventually, she would have been extremely upset. Anyone with a brain would have been upset. He ran a hand through his hair and looked back at Nathan before he offered a shrug. “I don’t know how it got there either. You’re definitely no prize,” he agreed with a pointed look, “but you’re meticulous with just about everything. I’m not saying you put it in there for me. I just don’t know why you have it in the first place. But if it’s yours, take it. Burn it, frame it, bury it, whatever you’re going to do with it, keep me out of it.” Reaching for the pots, he stacked them again and shoved them in the sink. They would see a lot of bleach just before he bleached his own eyeballs. All of this was hard to take. His mother had been devastated by Mrs. March’s death. She would be even more devastated to know her ex-husband had a creepy topless photo of her in his possession. He scratched nervously at his eyebrow and gave a half shrug. “I’m definitely not going to tell anyone, Nathan.” Eli wasn't going to tell anyone. Or hold onto the picture… as blackmail or whatever. Thank god. Nathan picked the picture up again, very carefully not looking at it, and crumpled it up, shoving it into his pocket. He had missed it when he had burned the rest, but now he would make sure that it was gone. Meanwhile, his head ached as he fought to shove back down all those old feelings that were trying to come rushing back in. No. NO. He would not let this damn photo drive him out of town again. "You don't need to know why, just that it was a mistake. Just… forget you ever saw it. It was twenty years ago. Nothing good comes from digging up the past." With another laugh, Eli crossed his arms. “Yeah. Right. A mistake.” Nathan had made a lot of mistakes. Leaving his four year old kid--leaving his eight year old kid--coming back when his kid was sixteen years old and expecting to somehow have a relationship. Eli was pretty sure that Nate’s biggest mistake was coming back to Fall City. He leaned back against the counter and shook his head in defeat. “Just take it and go, Nate.” "Eli--" Nate stopped, then shook his head. "Nevermind. Right. I'll go. Sorry." He turned and left, unlocking the door and letting himself out. And back down to the truck. And home. The moment he was gone, Eli leaned his head against the door, closed his eyes, and breathed. He relocked the door before pacing around the kitchen. Everything Nathan had said. That fucking picture. Megan. He wasn’t sober enough for that conversation. He didn’t know what he was going to say. He didn’t know how he was going to make it up to her. Not after that phone call. Not after she pounded on his door, worried. Not after she’d walked all the way over to his place and he refused to let her in. Eli picked up a pot and threw it across the room. It clattered loudly against the wall before it fell to the floor and rolled to a settle. Several other pots joined it before he added his voice to the mess, yelling just once. Leaving the pots and pans to the carpet, he found the back of his cupboard cabinet and poured himself a glass of whiskey. He took it like a shot before he followed it with several others and wandered to bed. |