June Opekokew Hart ♑ Raven (principalis) wrote in paxemerituslog, @ 2018-06-25 18:50:00 |
|
|||
Entry tags: | ares, coyote, erzulie, freyja, freyr, persephone, raven, xochiquetzal |
when i'm with anybody else
Who: Isobel & Leira; June & Chris; Daniel & Aaliyah; Rafe & Fey
What: FRONDS touch base and talk about past things, like bug dreams, dates and other happenings.
Where: Various apartments.
When: A day. Some day. One day.
Switching the bottle of Arbor Mist Strawberry White Zinfandel from one hand to the other, Isobel rolled on the balls of her feet as she raised a fist to knock on Leira's door. She was barely keeping herself from bouncing; one could have accused her of opening the bottle beforehand, but it was merely excitement at catching up with an old friend that electrified her senses.
Both hands came around the neck of the bottle, nervousness edging her feelings as she waited in the hall for Leira to answer. They had far too much to talk about, and much of it Isobel knew she'd need the alcohol for. The remnants of the dream lingered in her mind—her alternate persona, the dogs, and finally the insects that had attacked them. She hadn't had another similar dream since, and she had no desire to scare Leira. If anything, she was hoping her long lost friend might provide a distraction from everything that seemed to be creeping back into her life.
The door swung wide to reveal an apartment—and a host—clearly intent upon doing exactly that. The flat was airy and bright, the window shades drawn all the way up to let sunlight stream in. It was warm, cozy, and clean, the only sign of any dust the slight motes dancing in the sunbeams. Even those seemed somehow orderly, like an artistic accent rather than the grime they were.
"Izzy!" Leira cried, throwing her arms wide to welcome her friend; Isobel returned the gesture without hesitation. "Come in, come in… and oh my god what is this..."
Leira extricated herself from Isobel's embrace, reaching down to grasp the neck of the frosted-glass bottle. "Oh I cannot wait to crack this open. Come on in, let me get the glasses. How have you been?"
"Good," Isobel started, at first her voice the high-pitched tone of a not-quite lie, closing the door after herself. She discarded her shoes near the entryway, and followed Leira deeper into her living quarters, her eyes roaming over the warm, welcoming interior. She instantly felt at home. "I mean, I must be, right? Also, I wish you had seen Obed's face when I said that was what I was bringing over—the embarrassment was tangible, but I refused to bag my shame. That kind of drinking right there got me through too many nights just to forget about it now that I have access to quote unquote better stuff."
Leira laughed, the sound as light and bright as the rest of her colorful home. Isobel followed her into the kitchen, one hand reaching out to pass lightly over a counter; her gaze landed on her friend. "Is there anything I can to help?"
"You just have a seat and get comfortable," Leira said. "I'll take care of the rest. Oh—" She wheeled to face her friend, her hands busy with two hand-blown wine glasses, their surfaces swirled with shades of blue and green. She carefully set down the glasses on the center island. "You know what? Tell me what kind of greenery I can have in here that won't require too much work. I need something vibrant, you know? But not demanding. Maybe something tropical-looking…" She turned again, reaching for a bottle opener from inside a nearby drawer. "Am I asking too much? I just want color and I don't want to have to spend every waking moment working to keep it alive."
Leira poured their two glasses and swept each of them up, taking a seat at a high barstool next to her friend's. She handed one glass to Isobel, and left her own raised, waiting for a toast.
"To old friends," she said, clinking her glass to Isobel's.
Isobel grinned, returning the toast with a nod, and only brought the glass to her nose to swirl it for a moment. The smell was instantly nostalgic, in ways both good and bad—a small, dingy apartment with people better left forgotten, community college classrooms that smelled musty and old in an unused way, late nights full of laughter that she'd wanted to hang onto and wrap herself in so they might never end. Pulling herself out of her reverie, Isobel cast a more critical eye over the space.
"I think some succulents might do you well—they're pretty hardy, just need some watering and light..." Isobel glanced back at Leira, shrugging as she finally took a sip of her wine, the tangy strawberry blossoming across her tongue. "I take it you're enjoying yourself here, at the Bradbury?"
Leira nodded, her lips still pressed to the glass. She found the cheap wine more difficult to swallow than it had been in the past, but she drank it down all the same, and smiled all the wider for it. Their tastes may have changed but the memories remained, and this bit of nostalgia was welcome, whatever its flavor.
"I really am," she said, once that slow sip was gone. "It's such a beautiful space. You've done a wonderful job with it. It's so open, you know? And this really lovely mix of old and new. I've never seen anything like it. And it's nice, you know, having Gabe so close by. He's hard to pin down, and getting to see him regularly has been such a nice change.
"But what about you? What's it like running a place like this?"
Isobel shook her head, shrugging. "I really don't do anything; I helped with some of the decorating, but Obed's got the financial and the maintenance stuff contracted out to places he's used in his other real estate work. I spend more of my time at the Environmental Nature Center these days; I have to say, I enjoy just working, instead of running a company. I don't need the headache."
She sipped at the glass again, nodding at Leira. "What about you? Everything's going all right?"
"Very well, actually. I was invited to join this fertility clinic, you know, so I'm a full-fledged partner now. Thirty-two and partner. I never thought…" She bit her lower lip but could not hide the pleased grin that brightened her whole face. "They're so forward-thinking, but rooted in traditions, you know? It's such a unique mix. I'm really lucky to get to be part of that. And to get to do that within easy distance of annoying my brother is just great. Now if I could just get my non existent love life off the ground, everything would be pretty perfect."
"Well, I do not envy you that," Isobel replied, shaking her head as she lifted her glass to her lips for another sip. "I am so glad to be off the market. Still, if you need a wing woman, I could try...?" She shrugged, then started warming to the subject. "I don't think there are too many single people in the Bradbury right now, but management in the old building threw a singles mixer last year. I didn't go, but we could always put some more events on. What do you think? Maybe even get some new blood in the mix."
"I'd love that," Leira said. "You'll be a great wing woman. I mean if there aren't many eligible people here we could always just call it a mixer. No singles required. Then see who shows up solo." She rubbed her hands together in a mock display of greed; Isobel giggled, shaking her head in a similarly mocking look of disapproval. "It sounds perfect already.
"So tell me, lady, what's partnered life like? Your other half seems really… quiet. I've seen him a few times but I can't get a read on him at all."
Leaning back against the counter, Isobel nodded. "He's... He'd probably be upset for me using this word, but he's shy. Very guarded, for a number of reasons; he just takes some warming up, that's all." She spread her hands, shrugging, a smile lighting up her face that was clearly tied to the thought of her other half. "He's really very sweet, once you get to know him."
Leira quirked a brow. "Sweet and shy is definitely not the vibe I got from him." She raised a hand, waving off her own words. "I don't mean to offend. I'm sure he's great to you. He'd better be great to you. But he just comes off sort of… harsh. You know? But shyness will do that. And I mean look at you." She gestured to her friend. "You look happy just from me mentioning him. You never seemed that way with Bryan, even in the good ol' days."
"Yeah..." Isobel nibbled her bottom lip. "He's really not; Obed, I mean. I know he comes off that way. He knows what he wants and he's prepared to do what has to be done to get it. Bryan..." Her brows furrowed, and she quickly emptied her glass, reaching for the bottle for a refill. "Obed is leagues better than Bryan. Bryan was a manipulative asshole that refused to take 'no' for an answer. Thank god he's gone for good, though." She tipped her glass into her mouth again, unaware she'd left her statement hanging.
"Oh?" Leira asked. She set down her wine glass and turned its stem in her hands. Sunlight caught the pale wine and cast small diamonds of it all around the loft. "That sounds like a story. What happened? Marriage? Restraining order? Jail?"
Isobel froze, realization painting red across her cheeks for a moment. She fixed a level gaze at Leira for a moment, the cogs working in her mind visible in her expression. Coming to some decision, she reached for the wine bottle again to once more top off what she had not yet finished; her hand shook a little, though whether it was from the topic or something else was not immediately clear.
"I got pregnant. We got pregnant, Obed and me." She half lifted the glass to her mouth, and then seemed to think better of it when it wobbled too much to finish the trip. The worry on Leira's face only grew more pronounced. "Bryan had been stalking me for months, me and him and my friends and... it was such a shit show. I was stressed and I hadn't told Obed about the baby and..." Her voice warbled a little. She stopped, and took a deep breath. "Bryan attacked me. I lost the pregnancy. So yeah. He's in jail."
Her last words were said with a finality that she hoped brooked no additional questions; her eyes were fixed on the ceiling, less out of a need to prevent threatening tears and more that she was afraid Leira would see through them to the lie she was carefully telling. Leira misread this small gesture, though her boundless curiosity and concern provided a different sort of obstacle.
"Jesus Christ," she muttered. Her hand had drawn tight around the stem of her glass; she relaxed her grip and set it down. The line of her jaw was still hard enough to cut. "Izzy, why didn't—no, I'm sorry. Jesus. I don't know what to say. What a piece of shit. Stalking you, I just… does Obed know?" The furrow in her brow deepened. She moved her chair closer to Isobel, one arm coming to rest on the countertop. "Did you tell him after? Why didn't you call me?" She clutched Isobel's hand in her own, squeezing it tight.
"Oh, pobrecita, I can't imagine… tell me you're going to therapy. Both of you."
Isobel issued a soft laugh, her hand squeezing Leira's back. "No, I— there was a woman at the last place we lived at that we were both seeing, but everything's been... kind of crazy." Her gaze flicked up to Leira's face to gauge her response, feeling guilty for manipulating her friend in such a way. "But yes, he knows. I told him everything, and he took me to the hospital, and he was there when I lost it. We broke up for awhile after that." She paused, her hand loosing from Leira's and wiped at her eye, surprised that dredging up these old memories was still as painful as though they'd been fresh.
"But everything worked out, and I'm sorry to be such a downer." She laughed again, this time more like a hiccup. "This isn't how I thought this evening would go."
Leira was shushing her before the apology had fully left her mouth. "None of that," she said. "I love you, and this is what friends do. Especially since castrating him isn't an option until he's out of jail." She smiled shakily, but something in her tone did not make the threat sound entirely like a joke. Isobel's gaze immediately averted, staring down hard at the ground. "Look. You talk about this as much or as little as you need to, OK? Now or whenever, but if you want…" She reached for the wine bottle, pouring its dregs into both their glasses. Then she rose from her chair and moved to fetch another bottle, her eyes on Isobel all the while.
"We'll have a bit more to drink, since neither of us has to drive anywhere, and I can take your mind off all this shit if that's what you want. Sound good?"
"Yeah, that sounds a lot better," Isobel started, nodding. "In fact, we should plan that mixer—even if we can't find someone's pants for you to get into, you can meet everyone else in the building. There's a lot of...characters." She drained the glass of the Zinfandel, and then pushed the empty vessel in Leira's direction, eager for the other woman's attention.