WHO: Temperance Llancaster and Wesley Atwood. WHEN: Monday, April 8, 2019 around 6:00 PM? I think?? WHERE: On the island and then Castaway Bar. SUMMARY: Temperance and Wes meet up at the bar to talk about things and end up talking about feelings, which neither of them are prepared for. WARNINGS: Depression, talk of loss, language, drinking, and Wes being dramatic.
While Wes had prepared himself for his trek to the island, the reality of the trip had stripped him bare. The truth was that he loved too much to endure such deep tragedy.
He had agreed to the tour because Leila had asked him to go with her. He had intended to be her support. The person she could lean on when it became too much to bear. Instead, he found himself gasping for breath into the sand, clinging to the person he had pushed furthest away. It was unfair.
When the tour ended, he made quick work of disappearing. He wound his way between the people to trace his way through the hotel in avoidance of the crowd. He traveled his way between the floors, all the way up, and then all the way down, barely mindful of how hard he pushed the stairwell doors open until he had reached the main floor again. He brushed past an elderly couple and issued a blanket apology before bursting into the sun.
His pace lifted into a jog. He stumbled in sand, but kept going until he was in an all-out run. The wind whipped through his hair, his arms pumped at his sides, his body heaved with exertion. He didn’t stop until he knew he was completely alone. He panted for breath, bending to rest his hands on his knees. Pain shot through his chest again and Wes let it go as he screamed his grief to nothing and no one. Until there was nothing left to give. Until the past agreed to once again quietly settle in his chest.
The trip back to the hotel was long. He took his time ambling back, kicking sand. He emptied his shoes before he entered the lobby. As if on auto pilot, he found himself back at the bar, grabbing a stool. He leaned against the counter and considered his options, ignoring the heat from the sunburn on his face and arms now that he was resting in the cool comfort of the air conditioning.
“Two whiskies, neat,” he asked the bartender, “and a glass of ice water, please.”
Her tour ended early. Rather than dwelling on the reasons the tour ended early, Temperance was simply embracing the fact that her obligation was fulfilled. She was guilted into going, and now it was over. Any lingering sensation of uneasiness was left at the door as soon as she found her way back to the Castaway Bar. Wes said he’d meet her there once he was back at the hotel as well, but honestly, she knew they’d both be better off if she started drinking without him. So she did. Drinking alone had never bothered her much.
Between leaving her bar stool and returning from a much needed smoke break, the bar had gained a handful of new patrons.Temperance acknowledged that fact with the same interest one might comment on the weather. She noticed Wes, though, and that was actually interesting.
The sight of the bartender sliding two tumblers of whiskey his way also seemed noteworthy.
“So am I drinking for two, or are you keeping me company?” she asked as she took up occupancy on the stool beside him.
Wes guided one of the drinks in her direction and sighed. It had been a very difficult day. His answer came in the form of action as he took a gulp of his beverage and winced before resting the glass back on the counter.
“Tell me about the tour,” he said, his voice quiet. “You said it was interesting.”
Temperance lifted an eyebrow, but accepted his response silently. His answer was clear enough, after all. No need for her to hear the words as well. Resting an elbow on the bar, she angled herself towards him slightly and took a sip from her glass.
“Horrible,” she countered lightly. “I believe the word I used was horrible.” Another sip and then she lowered the glass, though her fingers remained wrapped around it. “My dead sister’s baby daddy used Hope’s little girl to guilt my brother and I onto the tour. But this woman grabbed a girl and screamed about how she warned the boy they’d all die if they didn’t leave before having some sort of seizure, so. Horror tour cut short.” Temperance shrugged like none of it could possibly have bothered her. Practice makes perfect.
“And here we are.”
Well. That was definitely not what he’d been expecting. Turning, he arched an eyebrow as he looked her way. “That does sound horrible,” he agreed. “I’m sorry that happened.” The words felt hollow as he said them. After so much had happened, there was not enough left to give toward empathy and understanding. He felt wrung out. Empty.
After a moment’s hesitation, he tossed back the rest of his drink and gestured toward the bartender for another, doing his best not to squeeze his eyes shut as the alcohol burned his throat. Wes had never been one to drink, but with everything, he just wanted some peace and quiet. Some time away from himself.
“Is the woman okay?”
The smile she offered was thin. Not unfeeling, but not especially committed either. He looked how she was refusing to feel. Going through the motions. Temperance knew how the end of the tour should’ve made her feel. She had a sense of the normal reaction to something so strange and traumatic. But her family bothered her more than the strange woman and her screaming fit. Part of her thought she should send a fruit basket as thanks for the distraction that ended the Llancaster Reunion Tour.
“Allegedly,” Temperance replied. She was already warm from the drinks that came before Wes arrived. She threw back the contents of her glass anyway.
“Are you?”
As Temperance finished her drink, Wes gestured for the bartender to pour her another as well. Misery loved company, after all. Her question was loaded and he didn’t know how to answer. Truthfully, he hadn’t been okay since his parents had died. He’d been treading water until he met Jude and Jer and Leila. Every time he moved, it took a piece out of him. Every time Jude left for England, it took a little more. Every time he fought that current that told him he wasn’t good enough for the friends he had, it took another bite. After 2016, there was barely anything left. A shell.
“I’m fine,” he said, though the words weren’t for her. “I’m just fine.”
The whiskey was delivered and he tossed his around in the glass a little watching the liquid hit the sides, splashing without spilling. “But I don’t want to go on any other tours. I think once was enough.”
Fine. It was a relative term. One person’s Fine was another person’s Barely Breathing. Temperance only met Wes yesterday. She knew next to nothing about him. But his company offered her relief from the suffocating pressure that closed around her whenever someone else here talked to her. Studying his profile as he swirled the liquor in his glass, Temperance could tell he wasn’t really trying to convince her.
She thought that was fine. She could respect boundaries.
A new glass poured, Temperance ran a finger along the rim before picking up the drink. “Do you want to talk about yours?” she asked, before starting in on the new drink.
“I don’t,” he said. “I’d like to forget that today happened altogether, but sadly, neither of us has that luxury.”
That made her smile. It was humorless, but not bitter. Balanced more towards sadness, if anything. “I beg to differ,” she said, raising an eyebrow. “This is the exact right way to forget. Not forever, but at least for the night.”
He was a little less shy with the second glass. The contents followed the fate of the first. He exhaled at the taste, grimacing. He usually served it, but didn’t drink it. The irony of being a bartender.
“My ex is here.”
He’d said he was a lightweight. That was his business, though. If he needed to shoot whiskey to forget his day, Temperance saw no reason to judge him for it. She was fine doing the exact same thing.
“You mentioned something to that effect earlier, yeah.” And if he wanted to talk more about it, he could. But Temperance wanted to finish her drink, not push him. She couldn’t do both. She was a terrible multitasker.
Wes sighed heavily before running a hand through his hair. He knew, realistically, it should take a lot longer for the alcohol to kick in, but. His head already felt like it was spinning. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d eaten. He closed his eyes. “I don’t know what I expected.”
It took him a while to speak again, his hands were wrapped around the glass of ice water like it was a life raft. “I’m—” A terrible person. “—at fault.”
Temperance set her empty glass on the bar, but she turned to face him slowly. He had her attention, but his confession was heavy. It was loaded. Snapping her head in his direction, whether her gaze was sharp or simply curious, was a fast way to end the conversation. That would be fine with her, in truth. They were still strangers. But Temperance thought loaded words usually needed to be unloaded. For better or worse.
“We were together for almost four years. When everything happened, I panicked. I made a bad decision. The worst decision. I just took off. We both had lost so much.” He thought back to how Sydney had acted in the ruins. The look on Leila’s face on the boat. How she’d excused herself. “It’s been three years and the first time we see each other is here.”
It felt like a lot to say. To drop on someone. He swung a glance over in her direction and offered a sad smile. “I’m sorry. This isn’t what I had intended when I’d texted you.”
Her smile matched his this time. “So far, nothing has gone as intended for me anyway. Talking about your ex really isn’t something you need to apologize for.” Temperance shrugged, turning her head to watch the bartender pour her another. At least the bartenders were reliable here.
“When we were kids, something happened to my brother, sister and I. Something nobody else believed. We needed each other. Nobody else understood what had happened. But they turned their backs on the truth, because it scared them too much. And in doing so, they turned their backs on me. It took my brother twenty years to apologize for it. Too long to make a difference.” She looked back at Wes. “If it was a bad decision, the worst decision, maybe three years will be too long too. But maybe it won’t.”
“I’m sorry,” he said, instead. “For what they did to you.”
Wes pulled out his wallet and navigated to where he’d put the day’s cash. His sister seemed to think he would want money for gifts or extravagant meals. He had portioned each day in anticipation of need. He paid for the drinks and tipped, already feeling the itch to move.
“You deserve so much better than that.”
Temperance wasn’t sharing so he’d apologize on behalf of her family. She was just making a point. If Wes wanted to leave that point completely untouched, that was his choice. But when he started going through the motions of leaving, Temperance raised an eyebrow.
“That’s a kind assessment,” she said. She really couldn’t say where he’d gotten the impression from. Adjusting on the stool, Temperance reached over to grab the bottle of whiskey from behind the bar. She set some cash on the bartop, pulling the bottle into her lap.
“So where next?” He was a lightweight. If he didn’t want to talk, that was fine.