|Andrew Kirke (tuned_in) wrote in the_colony,|
@ 2010-12-13 18:24:00
|Entry tags:||^ week 23, andrew kirke, meghan callahan, | drew and meg|
Week 23: Wednesday
Characters: Drew Kirke and Meg Callahan.
Location: The parlor, evening.
Summary: Meg overhears Drew playing in the parlor, and the two talk about weddings past and future.
Sharp senses that often wouldn’t let Meg sleep without something Styrofoam stuck in her ears easily picked up on the recognizable strains of music: it was a near evolutionary response for the woman who’s life revolved around music before the world collapsed... so picking it out of the chilly air from her and Michael’s bedroom was easy as instinct.
Guitar, obviously Drew playing. She knew by the cadence and the strength of the strumming. She’d heard the new guy playing the mandolin (and that was definitely not a mandolin she was hearing), plucked familiarity in the form of an acoustic version of one of her husband’s favorite songs.
You couldn’t play Dropkick Murphys on a mandolin.
She left Sarge sleeping on the bedroom floor and snagged her guitar from it’s place near the dresser, soon to join the young betrothed in the parlor. She could tell by the slight hesitation in his playing that he noticed her presence, to which Meg smiled, dressed in sleeper pants and one of Michael’s shirts. She said nothing, only settled on the chair she found with the side of her leg and positioned the guitar, joining in as the harmony to his melody, without a second thought.
Drew couldn’t help but grin a little bit as she settled in without even asking what he was playing. It was one of the many reasons he always liked Meg, even if they only ever talked sparingly. Their music did the talking, and she “talked” just as well as Ana did when it came to their music.
Drew knocked out the beat with his strumming hand on the body of the guitar between chords, tapping his foot and bobbing his head as well. In his mind, he could see the crowd at one of the open mic nights jumping up and dancing with him, maybe some tipsy guy from the audience coming up with a buddy to sing along the words, and the grin on his face only widened. It might be true that all those people were dead now, but they would live on forever in his head.
And so they played, the gritty Irish lyrics playing back crystal clear in both their minds’ eyes, though the images were probably incredibly different. Emphatic tempo fit for a pub on St. Patty’s drummed out on both guitars, then slowed with the cadence only to speed up again to a projected drunken fervor. Meghan had closed her useless eyes, tipping her chin back in a little escape into memory. Sights, sounds, and smells all coiled around each other, fueling their fingers until the song came to a rousing ending. Even after the final chords faded off, the sense memory lingered like a thick fog around them.
One corner of the Chicago native’s lips tugged into a dimple, and she answered his adorable greeting with a major chord, then a well-timed reply.
Drew laughed quietly, plucking out a few improvisational notes. “Don’t let my fiancée hear you calling me that. She’d drag me away and then we’d have to stop havin’ so much fun.” Meghan snickered lightly, and mirrored his note plucking, almost reflexively.
“I call everyone Darlin’, Darlin’,” she teased, and drew her legs up, folded under her. “From Alice Cooper to Maya Angelou. You’re not escaping.”
Again, the younger man laughed. “Y’might need to let her know, just so she knows you’re not tryin’ to make me your cabana boy on the side. Then again...” his slow grin lengthened, “...nevermind. I like it when she gets possessive.”
That was one of the times where if Meg could have rolled her eyes, she would have. But playfully. Young love. Honeymoon periods. She sighed wistfully and shook her head.
“Like I need a cabana boy.” Her smirk was back, as usual, warm in nature.
“Hey,” Drew countered, putting a fake pout in his voice and the hint of nonexistent offence. “I’m an excellent cabana boy. You have no idea what you’re missing.”
She snorted, genuinely and affectionately amused. “Oh yeah?”
“Uh-huh,” he affirmed, still grinning. His fingers tripped down the strings again, finding something with a somewhat ‘tropical’ flair to it and humming some pretend chorus, but quickly transitioned into something less silly. He was certainly not going to go into details about his excellent lady-pleasing skills. He didn’t feel the need to prove anything.
“So, I got a question for ya.”
Meg was clearly amused by the return banter, accompanied by the impomptu soundtrack. She was, however, a slightly snarky creature (as most of the farmhouse knew, by now), and purposefully tried to distract his playing with the first few measures of Duelling Banjos on her guitar. Smiling rather ruefully in his direction as she went.
The last note was left to linger between them, as if it was her answer to his declaration, but she couldn’t hold it in. “No, I won’t teach you everything I know.”
Drew wasted no time countering her. It was like a knee-jerk reaction; he couldn’t stop himself, nor could he stop the laugh that escaped him. “I don’t need any tutelage, but thank you. That’s one class in college I got an A on.”
Meg couldn’t help but chuckle at that implication of college shenanigans. Her mind immediately went to her tipsy conversation with Alice, and what had been divulged therein.
They’d have to do that again soon.
“Alright, Tucker Max, what was your question?” She decided not to go into her own little details. Drew let out a good belly laugh at the nickname.
“God, that’s not-- I was gonna ask you about your wedding. Shit, lady, I’m not a manslut.”
Now Meg laughed, almost snorting into the palm she placed on her face, then used it to push her hair out of the way and rested a bent elbow on her guitar. “I’d bet money you’re blushing anyway. But go on... What about my wedding?”
“Just thought I’d get another woman’s opinion. I haven’t hit up Bridget yet,” his voice got a little somber. “Figured it’d be a sore topic. Ditto with Alice. So you’re my next best hook-up for information on the girl’s side, since my sister’s kind of unavailable for a quick call.”
Meg understood what he meant by ‘sore subject’, but didn’t comment on it. Bridget had gone nearly a week without speaking to her after Michael showed up. Alice... well, Meg really liked the other woman, but she was difficult to read. “So what’s up?”
Drew shrugged despite her being unable to see him, but the movement made the guitar make a little noise. “Just... y’know. How did you feel? What did you guys end up doing? Did you go with traditional vows, or make your own? Stuff like that. What made it special for you?”
Needless to say, the brief silence on Meghan’s side of the conversation was the clear display of how broadsided she felt. Not necessarily by the subject, but by the depth of the questions (not to mention the sheer number).
“Uh...” she started, her mind trying to fill the space as she tried to sort out her answers. “Well... Heh.” She cleared her throat, and got more comfortable in the arm chair. Her brow-arched look was sent in the direction of Drew’s voice, where she knew he was nearby.
“You ready for a lot of information that will probably mean a lot less than you think it will?”
“Says you,” he replied, his fingers already plucking out appropriate mood music. He was well aware that her interpretation of her ‘special day’ would be very, very different from the other two women he mentioned, but that didn’t make it any less meaningful or important. Hell, it was almost more important: she spoke purely on a sensational level, and her memories would relate wholly on her emotions and not the visual output of others surrounding her. He wanted to give Ana those same feelings, now that the ‘visual’ was so much less important.
Meg didn’t contest his reaction, only pressed her lips together a little. Experience was learned, not described. Honestly, there were a few reasons why she wasn’t cinnamon and bubble gum about gushing on wedding details, but she wanted to help. Meg couldn’t deny the poor guy. She just... sometimes had to remind herself of other people’s points of view. Especially younger.
“Well, I knew Mike for about five years when we married. He’s been the closest thing to a pair of eyes for me.” And it went so much deeper than that, but she figured describing him as what most people considered a crucial part of existence would be understood.
Drew nodded along with her explanation, strumming along in time with the pauses and pace of her words. He knew the details started at the very beginning and he was willing to indulge her. Besides, he didn’t really know much about Mike.
“I guess I was nervous, but more about the transition to being labeled ‘married’. I dunno... that one’s kinda hard to explain.” It was different now. A lot different. Meg was really trying to wrap her head around it.
“I can relate,” Drew murmured, watching her intently as she continued on.
“We wrote our own vows...” The impression of a smile came to her lips. “They were pretty unique--I’ll spare you details, but there were 80’s ballad lyrics involved.”
That immediately brought a hearty laugh. “Oh, please don’t spare the details; I want every single detail you have to offer. I need them like a fish needs water, Meg. You wouldn’t keep this one pleasure from me, would you?” She snickered, leaning back into the chair.
“Don’t tell Mike I told you.” God, she’d never hear the end of it. “I had to talk him out of using bits of ‘Sweet Emotion’ in his vows. Then I got Meatloaf instead.” She laughed, and pushed a hand through her hair. “That’s as much detail on that you’re gonna get. Other than that, what made it ‘special’ for us was... Well--that it was us.”
She smiled gently at him. “Doesn’t matter what you do. Just follow your instincts. Trust me, you may even want to kill each other in the morning, but when it’s all over, you’ll know everything went exactly the way it was supposed to.”
Drew fell quiet in response to her answer, proving that he was still there by the gentle strumming of his fingers. She was right, of course; the most he could do was glean her reactions to Mike’s handiwork, but he wasn’t Mike and Ana wasn’t Meg. He would have to find his own way and hope for the best.
Then, just for the sake of amusement, he started to strum out the aforementioned song.
Whether she had just planted the song idea in his head, or if he was being cute with her was uncertain, but either way, Meg’s smile brightened, biting back a nostalgic laugh.
Then she started to play along.