gavin hawthorne does not have a baybay. (peanutbuttah) wrote in thereincarnates, @ 2011-03-04 20:32:00 |
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Entry tags: | gavin hawthorne |
Who: Gavin Hawthorne
What: Regrets.
Where: Amanda's place in San Francisco.
When: Late Friday night, March 4, 2011.
Warnings: Angst?
Gavin didn't know what possessed him to buy the birthday card. It was just a whim, something he picked up on his way out the grocery store, six-pack in one hand and dinner in the other. He didn't think about it. Just grabbed, stuck it in his pocket, and left. Without paying, of course. Couldn't leave a paper trail.
When he went back to Amanda's, he tried not to think about it. They had dinner, drank their beers, watched TV, fooled around a little – altogether, it was one of those drama-free nights that was getting rarer and rarer every day in the Turner-Hawthorne.... well, not household. Definitely not household. Just the place they spent most of their time together, that was it. And throughout it all, the card stuffed in the back of his pants hung over him like one of those dark, rainy clouds you see in old cartoons. He was definitely faking it tonight, working hard to keep Amanda from noticing anything out of the ordinary. Thankfully, he was a master at misdirection. Booze and a strip show seemed to do the trick.
But then, later, when Amanda was asleep and he was supposed to be, he got up, put his clothes back on, and headed to the kitchen. Scratched his head and pulled the card out. Found a pen and sat down at the table. Stared. Stared some more. Then sighed and started scribbling.
Erin –
Sweetheart, what the hell do you think you're playing at, growin' up without me? (Nah, I kid, Karen, I kid.) I know it's my own fault I'm missing another birthday of yours, and I know this ain't gonna do much in the long run for either of us. Just thought I'd send a grown-up card to a grown-up girl. That's all.
I love you, baby. Happy birthday.
– Jack