name (theorist) wrote in casefile, @ 2018-08-20 15:50:00 |
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Entry tags: | character: eddie wolfe, character: nicholas wolfe, narration: log/thread |
WHO: Eddie Wolfe & Blaze Wolfe, with added Cynthia.
WHEN: Monday, August 13th.
WHERE: Out to eat and then the car ride home.
SUMMARY: Eddie, Blaze, and Cynthia have a post dinner conversation. It's not fun.
WARNINGS: Mentions of emotional manipulation.
“Dinner was amazing, Mr. Wolfe,” Cynthia said as she slipped her hand into Blaze’s and laced her fingers through his. “Blaze said you wanted to talk to me about how the way I slipped him a letter was unethical?” The whole thing had happened practically a year ago, and Cynthia had no idea why it was even a thing. But the sooner she could smooth Eddie Wolfe’s ruffled feathers, the sooner she could try to win him over. The other Wolfes didn’t really matter, but Eddie Wolfe did. He did. He had. Why did he find her phrasing troubling? There was something very small that Eddie Wolfe couldn’t put his finger on and the feeling had been growing all through the meal. “That’s right,” Eddie eyed his son before elaborating. “Did you think it was unethical?” Blaze wasn't making eye contact out of some childlike hope that as long as he didn't see icebergs, he couldn't hit them. Cynthia shrugged. “Not unless passing notes in class is unethical.” She didn't see the difference. The faulty logic almost hurt. “When you’re passing notes in class, you know the student you’re passing a note to.” Eddie paused for a second, considering. “Public events like book signings, are not an invitation into someone’s private life.” Cynthia bit her lip. “So your problem with it was that I hadn’t introduced myself in person first?” Blaze’s dad did predate the internet by a lot. That was a part of how he wrote such good books, Cynthia imagined. “No,” Eddie corrected, once again glancing towards his son who seemed to have checked out of the conversation. “My issue is that you manipulated him into replying to you, instead of sending a letter or an email through proper channels. Just like everyone else does. There’s a line when it comes to these sorts of things, and you jumped right across it.” At the word ‘manipulated’, Blaze looked up from the table and at his dad. The mixture of emotions influencing his expression was hard to discern, even for the person feeling them. He didn’t like the word. Cynthia didn’t understand why Eddie was saying any of that like it was a bad thing. “If I’d waited in that line, none of this would have happened.” Proper channels were all wait, no reward. No one had time for that. “Letters from people who are sick or dying are always given priority. You still crossed a line with a stranger.” Maybe it was a bad idea to merely let Blaze sit this one out. He had been an active participant, he still was. “The fact that you didn’t tell me about it for so long,” Eddie looked at his son. “Makes me feel as though some part of you knew there was something off about it.” Cynthia exhaled because the point had been that she'd wanted more than the generic answers she would have gotten through proper channels but her focus centered on Blaze when Eddie did. It was one thing to have all of this coming from an overly anxious parent. It was an entirely different thing if it was coming from Blaze. Her eyes narrowed slightly. Blaze was looking back at Eddie, a little wider eyed. He shook his head. “No, Dad. That’s not why I didn’t tell you about it.” He could feel both of their eyes on him. “I knew reading the letter would make you upset….” Blaze looked at Cynthia. “then.” he added. Blaze knew it would probably upset Eddie any time, but he thought maybe the then would soften it for Cynthia. He didn't want to stress her out. He didn't want to make his dad more upset either. Everything about this was dangerous for him. Eddie sighed. “What about it specifically did you think would upset me?” He still hadn’t seen it and working in the dark was getting exhausting. “It was glib,” Blaze said. He was trying to balance on a rope between the two of them that wasn't there. Cynthia was still eyeing Blaze, but she waved it off to Eddie. “Oh, I made a joke. I don’t even remember what I wrote, really. Blaze has a hard time with humor, it’s cute.” He had a lot of trouble lightening up. Eddie hesitated pursing his lips before turning to look at his son. Who he honestly didn’t think had an issue with humor. “Do you remember what the joke was?” Blaze maybe wouldn’t have so clearly, because Cynthia had sent him so many letters since then, but he’d recently found it again to show Marceline. “It was just the tone,” Blaze said. Maybe a part of him had felt like there was something off with it, but if it was just that, he would have told his dad, because his dad was good at figuring out off-things. “And I was worried about hurting her.” She’d scared him. It wasn’t the worst time she’d scared him, but at the time, it was. “I know that Blaze hasn’t told you this about me, and you’re reacting to this information like it’s new, because it is for you.” Cynthia was upset with both of them now, but she was trying not to let that affect her tone. “But for me, it was a long time ago. I could promise not to give strangers letters again?” Worried about hurting her. Eddie’s eyes narrowed in contemplation but the expression wasn’t long lived. He sighed when Cynthia spoke. It was the same sort of sigh reserved for anyone who simply wasn’t connecting the dots or seeing the bigger picture. He couldn’t tell if it was willful or simply that this was the type of person Cynthia was, someone who didn’t deal with consequences. “That’s -- not really the point.” “What’s the point?” she asked. “You did damage here, something unethical, he,” a gesture towards Blaze, “just said he was worried about hurting you. You took advantage of a situation. Promising not to do something again in the future isn’t the point. You owe him an apology.” At that point, Cynthia felt like Blaze owed her a much larger apology. She’d been very patient. She’d been understanding when he’d told her what he’d told his dad. She’d been the perfect girlfriend, and instead of supporting her, he’d badmouthed her to his dad, even though he knew how important this was to her. “I’m sorry I worried you, Blaze.” It was a little ridiculous to apologize for worrying someone because you had a condition, but when one of your favorite authors was demanding something of you, what else could you do? Blaze felt like he was expected to say something, but he didn’t know what to say. He was still processing that his dad’s point was to try and get him an apology. Something like exasperation was bubbling up but for the moment Eddie couldn’t think of another way to try and get through to this girl. There were larger issues that Blaze and Cynthia should talk about, that was worth mentioning and maybe he would but for now Eddie waited expectantly for Blaze to say something, anything at all. Blaze looked at Cynthia and then at his dad. “I could have handled it better. I’m sorry too.” Wasn’t that the truth. A small voice in the back of Eddie’s mind seemed to think so. “It is what it is at this point.” That was that. If Cynthia wasn't there, Blaze would have told him that it wasn't ever going to happen again. There were a lot of things Blaze would have said if Cynthia wasn't there. If she wasn’t looking at him and if her fingernails weren’t digging into his hand to remind him that she couldn’t get too stressed. Blaze looked like there was something he wanted to say, but he didn’t say it. Cynthia, on the other hand, was more than happy to have the whole thing resolved. “We can put it behind us then.” She sounded relieved. It was unclear whether she thought Blaze’s apology was for Eddie or for her. “And I’m sorry my impulsiveness then lead to us meeting under these circumstances now.” “It--” Eddie started and stopped. It wasn’t the word choice he would have used. Putting it behind them suggested that it might be forgotten, swept under the rug, and this wasn’t the sort of thing that you could do that with. At least he couldn’t. But at some point arguing wasn’t worth it. “Thank you for the apology.” Cynthia smiled like she was doing him a great favor and reached to touch his hand. “Of course.” She let out a light laugh to ease the tension in the air. “Whew. Stressful bit over then.” With both Wolfes right where she wanted them, Cynthia was happy to domineer the rest of the evening with happier talk until it was time for her to go back to Emilia’s. Not one second after Cynthia had left the car and made it through the door, Blaze turned to his father. “She made a joke about how you were paranoid because you kept looking over when she wanted to slip in the note,” he blurted. “And she said if you found out about it, it could kill her faster and it could be my fault ‘haha.’ And I didn’t know how to take the ‘haha’ after that sentence and I still don’t. And then when I did tell her that I told you, she hung up because she said she was having an attack and then she didn’t call me back for two days. And I don’t want to marry her. I don’t want to marry anyone ever. I don’t care if she gives me those pearls she found during that summer in New Zealand. Pearls are just sand that a clam couldn’t spit out anyway. But I don’t want to kill her either or keep her from doing her bucket list.” He finally took a breath. Eddie sat in stunned silence for a few seconds, slowly digesting each word and phrase as he tried to break them down into something palatable. It was an impossible task. “You’re not going to kill her by not doing what she wants …” Once again, Eddie studied his son’s face carefully. Blaze looked completely freaked out. “Her suggesting that you might, even jokingly, is emotional manipulation, and it’s not part of a healthy relationship. People who do that kind of thing really only care about themselves.” “But what if it does?” Worst case scenario, Blaze was a really bad person. Best case, he killed a girl with her mom’s disease before she got to do all the things that she wanted. Usually, Blaze told himself he could handle it, but right now, it was like that switch wasn’t working and that meant the dam was broke. “I guarantee you that it won’t.” Eddie assumed that she might be upset, that for once things hadn’t gone her way. Unhappy in the way that a spoiled child was when they didn’t get a toy. But heartbroken? He couldn’t picture it. Blaze looked at his father while he took another breath. He did not feel that sure about it. “So...you think she’s exaggerating to get what she wants?” Eddie was silent for a moment, as he thought over his interactions with Cynthia at this dinner, and at the family birthday party, as well as every detail Blaze had mentioned. “She seems like the type of person who does or says whatever it takes to get what they want -- without much regard for how that might impact others.” That sounded like a yes. Blaze bit the corner of his lip. He was quieter. He’d thought about it before. If she was exaggerating. But the other side of that If, the Blaze was wrong side, had always spooked him away from it. It wasn’t a road that was worth it. “She doesn’t really know how to do things the other way and she doesn’t really hide it or pretend she’s not. I guess I’ve always kind of known. It just...didn’t matter as much when she wasn’t here.” This was vaguely puzzling but Eddie thought that he understood the sentiment. “It didn’t matter because you couldn’t see it in action?” “It didn’t matter because she wasn’t doing it around my people.” Eddie pondered this for a second, in the end he hoped that it didn’t mean that people who weren’t Blaze’s people somehow mattered less. “And now?” “At home, she’s around less people,” Blaze said. “Her house is pretty empty and her dad just ignores her unless she’s in trouble, so she has to get in trouble so he’ll notice she’s not dead yet. The people she does interact with are mostly like her or they’re paid people. Here, she was at our house for five minutes and she and Marceline nearly attacked each other, and Grandpa was devising this whole elaborate dog scheme, and she had the whole room. I never thought about how if you met her, you wouldn’t like her. But you really don’t like her. I can tell.” “Those are all excuses for her behavior, but excuses don’t justify things.” Eddie felt the need to point this out. Plenty of young people in Cynthia’s exact situation would have approached it differently, would have treated the people around them better regardless of how they had been treated at home. “You’re right, I don’t.” Eddie sighed. “I don’t think she considers others, or really thinks they matter much. Good people aren’t like that, and I want you to be with someone who thinks your feelings, and hopes, and dreams, are just as important as their own.” They were a part of why she was the way she was, but maybe his dad was right to an extent. Understanding something didn’t necessarily make it better. Blaze was quiet for a moment. “How do you tell if someone’s really good?” “There are lots of ways … how do they act when they think no one is watching? How do they treat others? Especially those they don’t know, especially waiters and baristas. Do they respect your decisions or always try to get their own way no matter what? Do they care about others as much as or more than themselves.” He paused. “Being good doesn’t mean being kind but good people? Good people are the ones who don’t go out of their way to cause hurt, who stop and think of others when it would be just as easy not to.” “Those are the things you can see,” Blaze said, his eyes on his father. “But they don’t tell you anything about the things you can’t.” “If you’re around someone enough, you’ll notice.” Blaze shrugged and looked at the dash. “Good people are more dangerous than bad people.” “How do you figure?” “You can trust bad people to be bad. And when they’re good, it’s good. You can’t trust good people to be good. And when they’re bad, they’re really bad.” Melanie would pass his dad’s barista test. She’d passed all those tests, and Blaze had noticed and he’d thought she was good.He was pretty sure both his mom and stepmom would pass the barista test too, but that didn’t make it so they didn’t leave. It just made it so that when they did leave, it was harder and it made less sense. Just because someone cared about a barista, it didn’t mean they cared about him. And just because today, they cared about him, it didn’t mean they’d care about him tomorrow. “Just because you can know someone well enough to guess they might stick a knife in your back one day doesn’t make them a better bet than someone who you think wouldn’t. That’s a -- that’s a sad way to look at the world, Blaze. And it’s not a healthy way to approach relationships.” His dad said it wasn't better, but phrased that way, it kind of sounded like it was way better. Maybe the world was just sad. Blaze didn't want to argue. “Let's go home, okay?” “Okay, buddy.” |