see you somewhere, someplace, sometime Who: Adelaide and Rodeo What: Strained interactions between estranged siblings. When: April 14, 2011 Where: Supply stores, Swedish Hospital. Warning: Angst ahead. Status: In Progress.
Rodeo is a man on a mission.
You might not know, at first glance. He walks down the halls of the hospital with his usual swagger, singing to himself as he goes. He smiles at the ladies he passes, strides indifferently past the men, and makes silly faces at a child or two along the way. But he has a purpose. He has a plan.
The plan is to find a way to mend his jacket that will poke less holes in his fingers than the sewing needle he's been struggling with for the past three and a half hours.
Sometime during the battle for the garage, the sleeve was half torn away. It's just an old canvas field jacket, and it would be easy enough just to toss the jacket and grab another the next time he's out for supplies, but he likes this jacket. It's a good jacket. It has just the right amount of pockets. He doesn't want a new jacket. He wants this jacket.
So he threaded up a needle, which only took about forty minutes of squinting and cursing and balled-up knots of frayed thread. When he finally had it threaded, he tried sewing the sleeve back on-- but unless he was meaning to add his own hand into the fabric of the jacket, he's been mostly unsuccessful. The needle has gone into his fingers more times than the sleeve. His thumb is so full of holes, he's surprised he can't hold it up to his eye and see straight through it. There's got to be an easier way.
He's on his way to the hospital's supply room, hoping there will be something to ease his troubles. Glue, safety pins, a tailor-- whatever works. Anything, just as long as it'll get the job done with at least slightly less bloodshed.
"Had some money in the bank. Got busted, ain't that so sad," he sings in his low voice as he nears the supply room. He heads inside, eyes scanning the shelves for a solution to his problem. "Can't spend what you ain't got, can't lose what you never had..."
He becomes aware that he's not alone in the supply room just a moment later.
He looks over his shoulder, and he sees her. And goddamn, it never gets any easier. Every time he sets his eyes on his baby sister, it's like putting his heart through a wood chipper. Shredding, searing, unbearable. And every time he sees her, he's convinced she looks less and less bothered by the anguish on his face.
"Shitdamn, Shortcake, if you ain't lurkin'," he says, good-natured despite the pain. Maybe he hopes that someday he'll put on such a pleasant show that he'll snatch back her heart. "You must be up to somethin', tucked away in here."