Agent Washington (completelysane) wrote in valarlogs, @ 2016-09-06 18:35:00 |
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Entry tags: | !complete, agent carolina, agent washington |
Who: CarWash Siblings (Agent Carolina and Agent Washington)
What: Retriving Carolina's belongings from storage
When: Backdated to the last week of August while Wash and Carolina are in Texas
Where: The Austin International Storage Facility
Rating/Warnings Fairly low
Status: Complete!
The door to the storage unit rattled loudly as it fought against the hands pushing it up and out of the way. A burst of cool, dry air burst through before it was absorbed by the late-summer sauna. The lock had opened easily enough, but it seemed as if the door itself had not budged since the items had been placed there in February and was clearly unhappy to be opened now, having swollen from the mixture of heat and humidity.
Boxes lined the unit, some settled on top of saran-wrapped furniture. Each piece was ornately carved, almost gaudily so, as if the house they were meant for was a grand manor instead of the simple two story home they had come from. Each box was color-coded and labeled carefully, terse handwriting detailing exactly what was in each box and whether it was important enough to warrant a later look. Most were not. Anything relevant to the project the man taken up would have gone with him, but anything superfluous - primarily anything belonging to his children - would have been left behind. Carolina was sure of this just as she was sure that anything belonging to her mother would not be found anywhere in the unit.
“Feel free to take anything you want.” Turning to Wash, Carolina gave him a small shrug. “I doubt he’ll notice unless he looks at the manifest.” Setting the lock on tip of a box marked ‘Kitchen > Upper Cabinet > Dinner plates :: Not needed’, she headed into the forest of cardboard, looking for the blue stickers that she knew would mark the boxes that had come from her room.
“He kept a manifest?” Wash asked. He lingered at the front of the unit simply taking in just how much stuff had been packed inside. The placement was impressive. He wouldn’t have thought by looking at the unit from the outside that it would have held as much as it did. Whoever had stored these items away had been meticulous in the way they had packaged, placed and placed each item. Wash wouldn’t have been surprised to have learned that a manifest had been set up with a grid detailing exactly where to find each box or piece of furniture.
Carolina’s offer to take anything he wanted made Wash a little uncomfortable. He wasn’t sure if he really had a right to any of this stuff. Besides, what use did he have for anything in a box labeled ‘Living Room > West Wall > Frames :: For Later Sale’?
His curiosity was piqued though. He had told Carolina early in their trip that he didn’t want to meet Dr. Church, that he’d gone nearly 30 years without knowing the man, another 30 wouldn’t hurt him. He didn’t know if she believed him. Carolina had a way of looking right through even his best bluffs. However, the matter was shrugged off and the topic quickly changed.
Here in the storage unit, though, Wash thought maybe he could learn a little bit more about the man without actually having to talk to him and putting Carolina in any potential awkward or painful situations. “Let me know if you need any help,” he called back towards her before he started wandering through the unit.
Just about every box was labeled the same way: Room > Location Within the Room > what the box contained > whether or not the items inside were needed and kept, or not needed, or up for sale at some later date. They were meticulously ordered, but not overly descriptive about what was contained within. The storage unit was organized much better than the storage space at the back of his mother’s garage, where boxes upon boxes, most of which were unlabeled, were just stacked one on top another. It was a kind of insight into how Dr. Church’s mind operated.
That is until Wash came to a set of boxes near the fall wall of the unit labeled slightly different than the others surrounding it: WA-NB :: Keep for Records.
“Hey,” he called to Carolina. “Do you know what WA-NB is?”
“He keeps the manifest on his computer. Apparently it’s easier to update that way. There should be a copy hanging around here somewhere on a clipboard so that we can notate what we have removed.” Carolina called from the other side of the unit. The rows of boxes and things were almost more familiar than they had been out of the boxes and inside her old house. Until this past winter, she had not lived in that house since she had graduated from High School. When possible, she had chosen to take up residence on base instead, even if they were in the same city.
The few times she would end up back in Austin usually found her things once again packed away and her father off doing who-knows-what at who-knows-where with his next project. It had been foolish of her to think that things had changed just because they had somewhat connected over their failures. She was not sure why he had finally decided to tell her about her brother, but she also doubted that answer was amongst these boxes.
The blue stickers were labeled just as neatly as the others and sitting in almost the exact same place they had been the last time. With a long-suffering sigh, she began pulling out the boxes labeled “S.R. > Closet > Clothing :: Proper, to wear” and “S.R. > Dresser > Clothing :: Frivolous, need to sell.” At least he left too quickly to sell anything this time. Otherwise she would have been better off buying an entirely new wardrobe. Her idea of ‘proper clothing’ and Dr. Church’s idea of ‘proper clothing’ were very different animals.
There was a new box behind the clothing that she had never seen before and it made her frown. It still had the blue sticker, but it was labeled, “Naval Academy > Various :: Unknown.” Carolina frowned. She had completely forgotten about the box she had sent home after accepting her commission. Apparently, so had her father. Likely it had ended up amongst the unsorted things until this spring. She hesitated, not entirely sure she wanted to open this particular box of worms. Then she grit her teeth and tugged the box free. This was stupid. It probably only had her various notes and a copy of her thesis, if she were lucky.
Wash’s voice stopped her from opening the box. “WA-NB?” Carolina frowned, trying to remember where she had heard that designation before. Vague memories of charts and phone conversations came to mind. “It sounds familiar. I think that was one of his child developmental studies. He was big on those for a while.” Something to do with creating the right experiences and environment for a blank slate. She shook her head. It was probably nothing. Another one of the many studies that consumed Dr. Church’s attention over anything that was not one of her science fair projects. Those she knew were still here, in boxes more toward the front of the unit labeled, “S.F. Papers > Published > S.C. :: Originals.”
Carolina slit the tape on the box with more force than was necessary, tossing the lid aside. Apparently she was not yet over that aspect of her childhood. Just as she had thought, the box was full of notebooks and her favorite club dresses. She smiled. It would certainly be nostalgic to wear one of them again, and Wash had promised to go clubbing with her.
As she pulled out the first dress, however, a small velvet box fell out of it. Carolina felt her heart stop as it fell out to the floor of the unit. She caught it out of reflex, the rest of her frozen in shock. It’s still here. He left it...for me? Or perhaps he had simply not known it was there in the first place.
Wash frowned slightly. He’d seen a few boxes that held reports for Dr. Church’s studies. They had been labeled differently. “Research Results” or “Research Reports” had been included in the title and were labeled with yellow stickers. This banker’s box had no color coded sticker. It was almost as if Dr. Church wasn’t sure what to do with whatever was in the boxes. Curious, Wash pulled the box from it’s spot and pulled off the lid.
Inside were several manilla folders, each labeled with a year. The folder in the front was dated 1987. The folder after that 1988...1989….1990 and so on until 1993 when the folders began to be labeled 1993-92...1994-95…1995-96. The last folder was dated 2004-05. Wash’s brows furrowed together as he selected a file at random: 1991.
Inside was a letter printed paper from an old dot matrix printer dated December 1991: Miss. Barrow:
It has come to my attention that David is now old enough to begin attending school, if he has not already. Education is a cornerstone of development and something I take incredibly seriously. As I understand you are of limited means, please be advised that I would be willing to fund David’s education provided he attends a school I approve of. I have already conducted research on several schools in your area. Enclosed with this letter, please find brochures of the schools I wish to see David attend. Please review and respond with which school you would like for him to attend.
I will continue to fund David’s education for as long as he attends one of these institutions. I will require proof of enrollment each school year or semester as well as copies of report cards, papers and assignments he has completed as well as any and all academic achievements and awards he receives. My continued funding of his education is contingent upon these things.
If I do not receive a response by March 1st 1992, I will assume you wish to fund David’s education yourself.
I look forward to your decision regarding this matter.
Sincerely,
Dr. Leonard Church
Wash stared at the letter. Dr. Church had offered to finance his education? Wash wasn’t sure if he should have felt flattered or incenst. On the one hand, this letter clearly showed that Wash had at least been something of a blip on the doctor’s radar at some point, despite what Nora had said. On the other hand, the tone of the letter was so cold, so professional, Wash may have just been a project in which Dr. Church had wanted to fund, the way people of the time funded PBS.
Either way, he had gotten his education through the Spokane public school system, so clearly Nora had decided to reject Dr. Church’s offer. Wash sighed and shook his head. He replaced the letter and copies back in the file and the file back in the box. What else was in these files? He thumbed through them again before choosing another file at random. This one from 1990.
Another letter was inside, this one handwritten on flowery stationary.
Dear Dr. Church,
David turned three years old last month. As promised in my last letter, I have sent you pictures I took of David over the past year. He’s gotten so big, I can’t believe it! He’s been such a joy to have, I can’t even remember what it was like before he was around, and nor do I want to. I absolutely love having him here. He definitely keeps me on my toes! Just the other day I was emptying our dishwasher and David was right there at my side, just wanting to know everything I was doing and wanting to know exactly what I was doing. I think he must have gotten his inquisitive nature from you. In fact, I am sure of it. He ended up reaching for one of the knives in the basket and I had to tell him “no!”. I’ve told him no before, of course, but never quite like that. I startled him, I think, but the look he gave me. Oh, it was so defiant, Dr. Church, it just made me want to laugh. I believe he gets that from his mother. We may be in trouble as he gets older.
But I’m not worried. He is a very sweet little boy. I wish you could meet him. A father really should know his son. However, I understand that you are a very busy man, so these letters and pictures will have to to do for now. Of course, if you should change your mind, or would like to come for a visit, please let me know and I will arrange everything.
I must go for now. I promised David we could go for a picnic at the park this afternoon and feed the ducks.
I hope to hear from you soon.
Warmest Regards,
Emma Jean Barrow