The closest thing to honest OOC: The following post is cowritten by both authors involved, and for clarification, it immediately follows this one that went up semi-recently but is already pushed off the page. Enjoy.
BIC:
She needed a drink. What she had seen of her mother was not linear to her memories of the woman, who had always been strong, harsh, and cold. Now she was old, damaged, and emotional. Isis felt the cognitive dissonance ripping her mind apart, and until she felt she could truly process it, she decided alcohol was temporarily her best substitute for answers. But she didn’t want to go back to Alfie’s and drink alone. Somehow, that didn’t feel helpful, just lonely and, honestly, pretty pathetic.
So she took herself to a bar in New Orleans and sent word to Amelle that she was in town and wanted to meet her. Isis didn’t include any sort of urgency to it, trying to make it sound more casual, although popping up unannounced was not usually her style. Some alarm was inevitably going to be raised, she imagined, but she didn’t see another way around it. She really needed a friend.
By the time she spied Amelle coming her way, Isis was already a bit drunk. Not fall down, blackout drunk--that wasn’t something she cared for--but she had definitely already drank more than she would in the evenings she, Amelle, and their coworkers would go out. Not even to lose total control, but enough to, for once, be honest.
Amelle’s summer was neutral feeling for the moment. She wasn’t doing much other than avoiding responsibility as a whole. Her parents wanted her to come up for a visit and meet some people, but Amelle was aware of what that meant, so she declined. She didn’t go out as much because all the local bars that they went to was also the same stomping grounds as her ex, so she didn’t want to bother seeing him either. Mostly, she stayed in and read and occasionally sang with her friend’s Jazz band. She figured everyone else was having a grand old ball in comparison to her.
The note she received one evening was a bit of a surprise to her since she wasn’t expecting anything and it only grew when she found out who it was from. Isis didn’t normally just drop in, so Amelle had to wonder if things weren’t working out in England and she needed to get away for awhile. Amelle was not prepared to go out that night, but she didn’t want to leave her friend hanging either, so she quickly threw a dress on, made up her face, ran fingers through her curls, and went out the door.
It took a moment for Amelle to spot her friend at the bar, but their met eyes and Amelle smiled and waved to the woman. Making her way over, Amelle took a seat next to her, “Hey, this is a surprise.” She said, ordering herself a glass of wine. “What’s going on?” It was obvious that Isis had a head start on the drinking, so Amelle could only think that something had happened.
“I,” Isis announced a bit too loudly, “have had a day! You ever not see somebody for like ten years and when you see them again, everything is different but, like, nothing’s changed? Like, I know all the problems and the reasons I stopped talking to her are still there, because time can’t change the past, it just wastes the present, right, so everything I ran from is still there. But like, she’s my mom, and she’s so old and shrunk and broken now. And for the first time in my life, I felt bad for her. I ain’t never felt nothing but resentment for her, but I felt bad! After everything that woman did to me!” It didn’t occur to her in her slightly intoxicated state to monitor her speech, and here and there, some of the old dialect came through, inflections and phrasing she had tried to store away, reserving only for her visits to Jahmaal, so that he never thought she was acting better than him.
She took a deep breath and sat her empty glass on the bar before her. “I should explain that better,” she noted. “I went back to my hometown to repay a debt I owed somebody, ‘cause I did a lotta wrong when I was a kid. I saw my old house, but it looked run down, so I thought nobody was livin’ there no more, so I could Apparate from there, but when I went in, she was there. My mother. And now I…. I don’t know what to do. I spent so long being mad at her ‘cause she was always so hard, but now she’s all… soft. There’s this part of me that wants to help her and take care of her, but I ain’t forgiven her for what she did to us.”
“Can I get another drink?” she called to the bartender before turning back to Amelle. She looked back to her friend, her dark eyes weighted by alcohol and conflict. “So what do I do?”
As soon as Amelle sat down and asked about her visit, Isis began talking. Confusing etched across Amelle’s forehead as her brows furrowed. She had no idea what her friend was talking about. This was the first time Amelle had ever heard her speak of her family and the more she spoke, the more Amelle picked up on her speech patterns. It was a little overwhelming for Amelle. Not so much the sudden accent or phrasing of her speech since Amelle was originally from Staten Island and downplayed her accent whenever she was not with her family. It was the material that was throwing her off.
Amelle had never really thought about Isis’s background. The other woman hadn’t really given her much to think about prior to this moment for her to even become remotely curious. She knew about the Pyes or what was at least publically known about them due to their Pureblood status, but even she never became curious enough to ask either one of them about their past. She just never felt like she that sort of friendship with either of them. The deep one where they talked about their secrets, their stories, and their heartbreaks whatever they might be. But now Isis was changing that by coming to her now, which she found rather surprising since she was staying with Alfie for the summer.
Isis asked her for her opinion and Amelle sat there staring at her nearly empty wine glass. She didn’t even remember drinking any of it, but her lipstick stained the rim of the glass. Finally, after she drank the last of her wine and ordered another, Amelle looked at her most likely to be intoxicated friend. “What is it exactly that you are looking for?” Amelle asked. “Do you feel obligated to help her? Are you looking for me to validate you not helping her?” She was just trying to figure out what Isis needed to hear. “You aren’t obligated, you know that right? But if that part of you that wants to help her is bigger than the part that doesn’t, maybe you should try to find a way to forgive her?” Amelle suggested. It was clear her pain went deep and Amelle wasn’t going to push the topic regarding it. “Or, at least, find a way to let go of that anger.”
“I don’t know,” Isis grumbled, her face falling into her hands, elbows supported by the bar in front of her. “I don’t wanna be the bigger person. I gave up on that after-” she paused. She wasn’t that drunk. “...a long time ago. But if she’d been this woman I saw today the whole time, things coulda been different. Does that make any sense at all?” Isis gave the ghost of a laugh, straightening up enough to see the bartender had placed another drink in front of her. She gripped it tightly, as if it held the answers. “I’m tryna think about what other people would want. Or woulda wanted.”
She took a gulp of her drink. “I’m sure I never said, but I got a brother. I know he’d want me to move on and forgive and be kind. He’s been askin’ about our mom for years. And I know-” Again, Isis cut herself off. She could, in this state, make mention of Jahmaal, but he was only partially lost. He was incarcerated but alive, a privilege not many in his position were granted. But their sisters, both of whom would have certainly encouraged forgiveness, were still too painful to mention. Instead of finishing the sentence, she took another drink. “I dunno,” she concluded a moment thereafter. “I just... got a long memory. Not very good at the forgivin’ and forgettin’.”
Amelle listened quietly as Isis tried to explain her feelings to her. She took small sips of wine while she listened; feeling the need to hold onto the glass while she tried to comprehend what Isis was telling her. It was evident that Isis’s past was a dark one by the sound of her relationship with her mother and the fact that she said ‘would have wanted’ sounded as though she had some ghosts in her past too. Who they were remained unknown because Isis was careful with her words despite have alcohol in her system. There was no doubt in Amelle’s mind that the other woman was holding back even though she was looking for help from Amelle.
Surprise registered on Amelle’s face when Isis mentioned a brother. She had a sibling? They had been friends for a couple of years now but Isis never felt the need to mention a brother? Amelle never asked about their life outside of Sonora, but she figured at least siblings would have been mentioned? She didn’t know. Amelle was an only child, so perhaps she had a misunderstanding with how attached people were towards their brothers and sisters. Or, maybe Isis had a distant relationship with her brother just as she did with her mother and that was why she didn’t mention him all that much? Amelle couldn’t be certain.
“I…I don’t know what to say to you.” Amelle admitted. She really had no idea what Isis wanted other than she didn’t want to forgive her mother for whatever it was that she had done. “Don’t forgive her if you don’t think you can. No one will hold that against you.” Amelle stated, resting a hand on Isis’s arm for support. “Whoever she is today doesn’t erase what she did in the past. There is no law that states you have to forgive someone because they are weak or sick or whatever she is now. Help her only if you want to help her. Forgive her only if you want to forgive her. But if you don’t want to do any of that, then don’t do any of it. Do what you feel is right for you.”
“What feels right…” Isis repeated contemplatively. She was a bit disappointed Amelle didn’t have an answer for her, although the logical part of her brain, so honed and sharpened by necessity that it was hard to shut off even with intoxicants, reminded her that she couldn’t expect that. But Isis had been doing things for herself for so long now, she just wanted someone else to take her troubles away for her. She looked down at her glass, which was now empty; she didn’t think she’d drank that much, but evidently, she’d hit this round pretty hard while Amelle was speaking. She glanced up at the bartender, but when she opened her mouth to request another, nothing came out. A little voice in her head whispered, That’s enough, and she decided that it was right. No amount of alcohol could push this any farther. No decision would be made tonight, not by someone else, and definitely not by her.
She looked over to her friend and gave a sheepish smile. “How do you feel about an impromptu sleepover?” asked Isis. “I don’t think I’m getting back to England tonight.”
Amelle smiled at the question, “Of course. There is always a bed for you at my place.” Well, it wasn't really her place, but there was an extra bed in the house and her friends never minded helping someone out. “Look, I know I probably didn't help you all that much, but I think after you've sobered up and let yourself think about it when the shock has worn off that it'll come to you.” Amelle said to her friend. “For now, let's get home and snuggle in for the night.”