Wyatt was asleep, but Kelly was not. Kelly couldn't sleep, and she sure as hell wasn't going into work today. They were laying in her bed, covered by a tangle of sheets, as she stared up at the ceiling overhead, at a suspiciously growing stain. Water damage, perhaps, from the apartment above hers? She kept playing the previous night over and over in her head. Wyatt kissing her, her pushing him onto the couch, the two of them clawing at eachother like animals in heat who'd been kept apart for far too long. She could still feel it. Every movement. As he carried her to the bed and thrust inside of her, every muscle in her body clenching in ways they never had before. Her goddamned toes curling. Grunts and screams, both guttural and animalistic, filing the room. And once it was over, they just laid there, and he held her, and they talked. They just talked. Not about anything in particular, not about what had just transpired, just talked. Kelly rolled her head to the side and looked at Wyatt, still fast asleep, and she chewed her lip. Wyatt suddenly rolled over and opened one eye, and the two smiled at one another.
"Good mor-" she started to whisper, when he reached out, dragged her towards him by her hips, put one hand behind her neck and kissed her, making her melt all over again. She turned bright red and giggled as he kissed between her eyes.
"Should I make coffee?" he asked, and she nodded.
"That would be greatly appreciated," she replied.
Wyatt stretched and yawned, then laid on his side staring at her.
"What?" she asked, "why are you just staring at me?"
"The hell else am I gonna look, the ceiling? Yeah, that's exciting," Wyatt said, making her laugh as he said, "I like looking at you. Especially in the morning. I don't think Scarlett ever understood it, but...once she got all prettied up for the day, sure, she looked great, but there's something about seeing a woman when they're messy and unkempt, just waking up...that's the best. And you have that in spades."
Kelly's smile faded slowly and she looked down at the mattress.
"What? What did I say?" Wyatt asked.
"Scarlett," Kelly muttered.
"I told you, there was no fixing that," Wyatt said, "and, ya know, if last night proved anything, it's that I'm much happier here. With you. In fact...I can't remember a time I was happier with anyone than I am with you. Waking up in bed with you like this...it's wonderful, it's perfect. You're perfect."
"I'm not perfect," Kelly said.
"Is this about the prosthetic leg again, or the hump on your back?" Wyatt asked, and Kelly smirked.
"Hey, the hump is a beauty mark, okay?" she said, the both of them chuckling as she added, "no I mean, I'm not perfect cause, like...look at what I did. I slept with a married man."
"No, a married man slept with you, there's an inherent difference. I made the decision to push things forward, all you did was confess first, and let's face it, had you not I would've. If not last night then eventually. We both know that. And as for being a married man? Sure, legally wise, definitely not romantically. I think Scarlett and I...I think things ended a while ago and we just didn't want to acknowledge it. We'd been fighting, I was spending less time at home overall."
"Well then that begs the question...if you weren't, if you were getting along and things were good...would you still have wanted me? Or was I just some kind of fallback? A comfort because of what was happening?" Kelly asked, sounding nervous. Wyatt chewed his lip and thought about it for a moment, then smiled as he reached out and took her chin in his fingers, lifting her face so he could look in her eyes.
"I've thought about that, but it isn't true, because yeah I still would," Wyatt said, "I think you and I make way more sense than she and I ever did, even if you take out all the other stuff. You're the kind of girl I always liked. I'm just sad I didn't know you in high school, cause I could've had so much more time with you. But I wasn't really at my best then, so maybe you wouldn't have liked me, I don't know."
"I don't think there's any instance where I don't love you," Kelly said, surprising both Wyatt and herself with this sappy admission, "...and I realize how much of a romance novel protagonist that makes me sound, but it's true. I think I'd love you under any circumstances, no matter what they were. The fact I love you despite what's going on I think proves that alone."
Wyatt smiled, tears forming in his eyes as Kelly crawled on top of him and kissed him, his hands on her hips, holding her in place. As their lips parted, barely away from one another, she whispered.
"Let me prove it," she whispered.
***
"I'm gonna be real with you, I didn't know there was more than one kind of omelette," Rachel said, making Amelia crack up across the table. The two had met for breakfast, Rachel picking her up at Calvin's and then going to a diner, since both had a penchant for greasy food.
"Jesus, how did you survive to be an adult?" Amelia asked.
"Hey!" Rachel replied, laughing herself now, "is that common knowledge? Am I just supposed to know that there's multiple types of omelettes? It isn't information that comes up frequently enough I'd think to be warranted being stored in my brain!"
"Did you at least know it was made of eggs?" Amelia asked.
"There's eggs in it?!" Rachel asked, the both of them laughing harder now. This was good for them. For both of them. Each woman had had such a horrible time as of late, and having this little friendship, it was nice. Amelia had to admit, the last thing she expected coming home to deal with her brothers estate was to become friends with his friend, but she was so happy it had happened. The waitress stopped by and topped off both of their coffee mugs, each woman thanking her as they simultaneously raised their mugs to their lips and sipped, locking eyes as they did and chuckling at their synchronicity.
"I found this key," Amelia finally said, setting her mug back down, "it was in with his other stuff. It doesn't go to anything in the house. I think maybe it's for a safety deposit box? I was hoping you might come with me to various banks and see what it opens."
"Yeah, of course I'd do that," Rachel said. The waitress stopped by again and asked for their orders. Amelia got scrambled eggs, while Rachel asked for an omelette, and when the waitress asked what kind, Rachel simply said "surprise me", which made Amelia cackle again. After she had left, the two continued the conversation, Rachel asking, "what makes you think it might be to that?"
"Well, unless he's got like an old murder mystery home stashed away somewhere that can only be opened with a sort of skeleton key, I'd say it's the most logical conclusion," Amelia said, and Rachel nodded.
"Fair assessment," Rachel said, "...what do you think might be in it?"
"I don't know. Calvin was really secretive," Amelia said.
You don't know the half of it, Rachel thought.
"I would imagine maybe some personal effects, things too important to let stay at the house just in case we got robbed," Amelia continued, "I'm curious to find out though. Maybe he had some money stashed away, gold doubloons or something."
"He's not Blackbeard," Rachel said.
After a bit, the waitress brought their food, and the girls began eating. As Rachel dug into her omelette, surprised at how much she liked it, Amelia couldn't help but chuckle and shake her head, occasionally lifting her head a bit to watch Rachel. Amelia had never really had a close friendship with a woman before, so this was all fairly new to her, and she liked it. But...something about it went beyond that. She felt more relaxed with Rachel than anyone else she'd ever known, sans perhaps Wyatt, or at the very least the same level of relaxed as with Wyatt. Amelia then felt a weird pang in her chest, and she got nervous, her smile faded, and she went back to eating her eggs, not daring to look up again.
***
Angie was sitting in the hotel room, staring at Clark.
Clark was laying opposite her on the other bed, but neither one had spoken in a while. She had just been staring at him. She wasn't sure, quite frankly, that she wanted to say anything, because she wasn't sure if she wanted to hear what he might have to say in response. After a bit longer, Angie finally cleared her throat and stood up, going to pour herself some water into a plastic cup. When she turned back around, Clark was sitting upright on the bed now, staring at her.
"What?" she asked, sounding scared.
"You think this is guilt," Clark said, "you think what is happening is guilt. That's why I sound like him."
"Well what other reason could it possibly be?" Angie asked, "I shoot a man in the back of the head and then I just get to walk away from that, assuaged of any wrong doing? I don't think so. If anything I'm surprised it took this long."
"I'm telling you it isn't," Clark said as she walked back around and sat back down opposite him again, sipping her water cautiously, as he added, "it isn't guilt. After all, you've had this before. You've heard other dogs with the voices of familiar people. It's simply your brain attempting to assign reason to something that has no reason, because you're sick."
"...and you just happen to sound like the man I killed," Angie said.
"I can only give you pseudo therapeutic answers, not actual answers," Clark said, "I'm in your head, and your head is trying to calm you down. Trying to make you see that what you're dealing with isn't that big a deal, something to be scared of or ashamed about. You know Rachel saw the See Through Horse. People associated animals with trauma if the two are closely connected enough. That's all this is."
Angie nodded slowly, listening. Clark was right. Even if he sounded like Calvin, she knew it wasn't him, and she wasn't hearing him as a way to blame herself, but simply because, as he'd told her, this was what her illness did. Angie exhaled deeply and fall back onto the bed. Clark hopped down from the other and up onto hers, laid down beside her, and planted his head on her chest. She smiled and scratched behind his ear, making his tail thump.
"You're a good dog," she said, and he woofed quietly.
***
"Banks make me nervous," Rachel said, "I always feel like I'm two steps away from breaking the law somehow."
Amelia chuckled, and Rachel smiled. The two had gone to 4 different banks at this point, and at each one, they'd been told this key wasn't theirs. They were hoping that, by this point, the 5th would be the one, but they weren't holding their breath anymore.
"I just want to have all of his stuff together before I leave town, you know?" Amelia said, as she turned the page in the magazine she was looking at as she and Rachel leaned against the wall, waiting for the teller to return; she continued, "I want it all together, everything finished, so I don't have to come back. So that Calvin can just...be put behind me once and for all."
"That's understandable," Rachel said, chewing on her nails absentmindedly, "you think this one will be it?"
"I'm not banking on it," Amelia said, the both of them smirking at one another.
"You suck," Rachel said under her breath, the both of them laughing again. Finally the teller reappeared and the girls turned to face her.
"This is our key," she said happily, "would you like to come with me, use it, see what's in the box?"
The teller opened the little gate and allowed the girls to enter, then followed her into the backroom and down a hallway. Rachel had her hands stuffed in her jacket pockets as she watched Amelia walk a bit ahead of her, speaking with the teller. Amelia, in her right low rise hip hugging jeans and her t-shirt with the Edward Gorey print and her bomber jacket. Amelia was so much cooler than she herself could ever hope to aspire to be, and it was nice to finally be friends with another artist with style.
"Your brother left you everything, you said, and we have seen you are the executor of his will, so," the teller said to Amelia, "obviously you're free to remove anything or everything from the box if you so wish."
"Why would he choose a different bank than where he kept his money?" Amelia asked, "That just doesn't make sense to me."
"People do it sometimes," the teller said, shrugging, "maybe this stuff was a bit more personal and he didn't want it to be associated with where he kept his cash, I'm not your brother so I can't say. Either way, I'm sorry for your loss, and hopefully having this sorted out will bring you some kind of peace. When you're done, please shut the box and I'll meet you back at the front."
The woman handed Amelia back the key and then exited. Amelia and Rachel looked at the key and then at one another. Amelia slowly sighed, as if preparing for something big. Rachel put a hand on her arm, and the two glanced at one another.
"You okay?" Rachel asked, "you want me to do it?"
"No, I can do it. I have to do it," Amelia said, Rachel nodding in understanding. Amelia turned to face the wall, the rows of boxes stretched out before her, and she inserted the key into Calvin's, number 379. She turned it, heard the box click, and slowly swung the door open. She reached inside and pulled out a handful of things. Some of them were just photos. Photos of him and his wife, his daughter, their family. Family photos of himself and Amelia. Jewelry, likely again belonging to his wife. Amelia sniffled and started to cry as she sifted through these things in her hand. Rachel came up behind her and hugged her, resting her head against hers. Amelia was so appreciative for the comfort. Some bank papers. Some important government documents, his original birth certificate, things of that nature. And then, at the very bottom of the stack, was a plain thin white envelope. With Rachel's name. Amelia and Rachel exchanged a similarly confused look, as Amelia handed it back to her.
"It's for you," she said.
Rachel took it, her hands shaking nervously, as she lifted up the flap and pulled out a single sheet of paper with Calvin's handwriting. She stood there and read to herself while Amelia went back to looking at the photos.
"Rachel,
I put this here as a security measure. If you're reading it, obviously I'm dead, hence why you're reading it. This isn't to blame anyone. This isn't to point fingers. Whatever happened probably happened because I deserved it. I blame myself moreso than anybody else. I brought everything onto myself. I am to blame. But I want you to know how much I appreciated you being my friend, and how much I hate that you'll be mad at yourself for my decisions. I did this. I killed me. If anything, you just kept me going for a longer amount of time than I should've had. Thank you for that, I suppose, painful as it was, because knowing you was enjoyable and I'll miss you greatly, as I'm sure you'll miss me. Tell Wyatt the same please. I hope you all can find ways to go on without me, and make progress in the areas you're hoping to make progress in. I figured you would come to this box with my sister, so since that's probably the case, take care of her please. She's a wonderful person and she's been hurt enough. Don't let another member of my family go down my path. Thank you again.
Your friend,
Calvin."
Rachel wanted to break down. He'd written an alibi letter. She had no idea he would've done this. He knew he was on the verge of being taken out, and he wanted to spare Rachel specifically any issues with that. He didn't want Amelia to think she or anyone else was involved. He probably knew, that very night, that he wasn't leaving that spot when he met with Wyatt and Angie. Rachel lost it. She fell back against the lockers and started weeping, sliding down against the wall. Amelia got on her knees and pulled Rachel into her chest, hugging her, petting her hair.
"Shhh, it's okay," Amelia said, crying a little herself, "you're okay. We're okay."
Rachel hugged Amelia back, and promised Calvin, internally, that she'd take care of his sister. It was the least she could do.
***
"Is there...anything else we really need to discuss?" Kelly asked.
"Maybe what's for dinner?" Wyatt said, "don't really feel like cooking tonight."
"I meant about...ya know, what's going on," Kelly said, making Wyatt chuckle as he came back to the couch and handed her her drink before sitting down. Kelly lifted her legs and plopped them down across his lap and he massaged her feet as she sipped her tea.
"There is but it's not a discussion I have to have with you, it's a discussion I have to have with Scarlett," Wyatt said, "you and I are clearcut, I think. I mean, unless you suddenly decide you don't want this, which I can't see being the case."
"I want nothing more than I want this," Kelly whispered, and Wyatt smiled. She rested her eyes and relaxed as he massaged her feet, and the two just sat there in silence, enjoying their newfound relationship. Each had wanted this so badly, and now the moment was here, and it felt so normal, so ordinary. Wyatt cleared this throat and looked back over at her.
"So I'm thinking maybe just...burgers? I know that isn't exciting, but," Wyatt said.
"Burgers is fine," Kelly said happily, "and that's okay, we've had enough excitement to last a lifetime."
Wyatt leaned over and kissed her, taking her by surprise, until she giggled and kissed him back, setting her mug down on the coffee table and crawled up closer, kissing him more. It was so nice, to both of them, to finally feel loved, either for the first time or again. Wyatt would order burgers, and they would eat and watch bad TV and crack jokes like every other night, and it was perfect. But he couldn't help but shake the fact that, in the back of his mind, he had to deal with one more thing before making a clean break. One last thing to end.
His marriage.
"Good mor-" she started to whisper, when he reached out, dragged her towards him by her hips, put one hand behind her neck and kissed her, making her melt all over again. She turned bright red and giggled as he kissed between her eyes.
"Should I make coffee?" he asked, and she nodded.
"That would be greatly appreciated," she replied.
Wyatt stretched and yawned, then laid on his side staring at her.
"What?" she asked, "why are you just staring at me?"
"The hell else am I gonna look, the ceiling? Yeah, that's exciting," Wyatt said, making her laugh as he said, "I like looking at you. Especially in the morning. I don't think Scarlett ever understood it, but...once she got all prettied up for the day, sure, she looked great, but there's something about seeing a woman when they're messy and unkempt, just waking up...that's the best. And you have that in spades."
Kelly's smile faded slowly and she looked down at the mattress.
"What? What did I say?" Wyatt asked.
"Scarlett," Kelly muttered.
"I told you, there was no fixing that," Wyatt said, "and, ya know, if last night proved anything, it's that I'm much happier here. With you. In fact...I can't remember a time I was happier with anyone than I am with you. Waking up in bed with you like this...it's wonderful, it's perfect. You're perfect."
"I'm not perfect," Kelly said.
"Is this about the prosthetic leg again, or the hump on your back?" Wyatt asked, and Kelly smirked.
"Hey, the hump is a beauty mark, okay?" she said, the both of them chuckling as she added, "no I mean, I'm not perfect cause, like...look at what I did. I slept with a married man."
"No, a married man slept with you, there's an inherent difference. I made the decision to push things forward, all you did was confess first, and let's face it, had you not I would've. If not last night then eventually. We both know that. And as for being a married man? Sure, legally wise, definitely not romantically. I think Scarlett and I...I think things ended a while ago and we just didn't want to acknowledge it. We'd been fighting, I was spending less time at home overall."
"Well then that begs the question...if you weren't, if you were getting along and things were good...would you still have wanted me? Or was I just some kind of fallback? A comfort because of what was happening?" Kelly asked, sounding nervous. Wyatt chewed his lip and thought about it for a moment, then smiled as he reached out and took her chin in his fingers, lifting her face so he could look in her eyes.
"I've thought about that, but it isn't true, because yeah I still would," Wyatt said, "I think you and I make way more sense than she and I ever did, even if you take out all the other stuff. You're the kind of girl I always liked. I'm just sad I didn't know you in high school, cause I could've had so much more time with you. But I wasn't really at my best then, so maybe you wouldn't have liked me, I don't know."
"I don't think there's any instance where I don't love you," Kelly said, surprising both Wyatt and herself with this sappy admission, "...and I realize how much of a romance novel protagonist that makes me sound, but it's true. I think I'd love you under any circumstances, no matter what they were. The fact I love you despite what's going on I think proves that alone."
Wyatt smiled, tears forming in his eyes as Kelly crawled on top of him and kissed him, his hands on her hips, holding her in place. As their lips parted, barely away from one another, she whispered.
"Let me prove it," she whispered.
***
"I'm gonna be real with you, I didn't know there was more than one kind of omelette," Rachel said, making Amelia crack up across the table. The two had met for breakfast, Rachel picking her up at Calvin's and then going to a diner, since both had a penchant for greasy food.
"Jesus, how did you survive to be an adult?" Amelia asked.
"Hey!" Rachel replied, laughing herself now, "is that common knowledge? Am I just supposed to know that there's multiple types of omelettes? It isn't information that comes up frequently enough I'd think to be warranted being stored in my brain!"
"Did you at least know it was made of eggs?" Amelia asked.
"There's eggs in it?!" Rachel asked, the both of them laughing harder now. This was good for them. For both of them. Each woman had had such a horrible time as of late, and having this little friendship, it was nice. Amelia had to admit, the last thing she expected coming home to deal with her brothers estate was to become friends with his friend, but she was so happy it had happened. The waitress stopped by and topped off both of their coffee mugs, each woman thanking her as they simultaneously raised their mugs to their lips and sipped, locking eyes as they did and chuckling at their synchronicity.
"I found this key," Amelia finally said, setting her mug back down, "it was in with his other stuff. It doesn't go to anything in the house. I think maybe it's for a safety deposit box? I was hoping you might come with me to various banks and see what it opens."
"Yeah, of course I'd do that," Rachel said. The waitress stopped by again and asked for their orders. Amelia got scrambled eggs, while Rachel asked for an omelette, and when the waitress asked what kind, Rachel simply said "surprise me", which made Amelia cackle again. After she had left, the two continued the conversation, Rachel asking, "what makes you think it might be to that?"
"Well, unless he's got like an old murder mystery home stashed away somewhere that can only be opened with a sort of skeleton key, I'd say it's the most logical conclusion," Amelia said, and Rachel nodded.
"Fair assessment," Rachel said, "...what do you think might be in it?"
"I don't know. Calvin was really secretive," Amelia said.
You don't know the half of it, Rachel thought.
"I would imagine maybe some personal effects, things too important to let stay at the house just in case we got robbed," Amelia continued, "I'm curious to find out though. Maybe he had some money stashed away, gold doubloons or something."
"He's not Blackbeard," Rachel said.
After a bit, the waitress brought their food, and the girls began eating. As Rachel dug into her omelette, surprised at how much she liked it, Amelia couldn't help but chuckle and shake her head, occasionally lifting her head a bit to watch Rachel. Amelia had never really had a close friendship with a woman before, so this was all fairly new to her, and she liked it. But...something about it went beyond that. She felt more relaxed with Rachel than anyone else she'd ever known, sans perhaps Wyatt, or at the very least the same level of relaxed as with Wyatt. Amelia then felt a weird pang in her chest, and she got nervous, her smile faded, and she went back to eating her eggs, not daring to look up again.
***
Angie was sitting in the hotel room, staring at Clark.
Clark was laying opposite her on the other bed, but neither one had spoken in a while. She had just been staring at him. She wasn't sure, quite frankly, that she wanted to say anything, because she wasn't sure if she wanted to hear what he might have to say in response. After a bit longer, Angie finally cleared her throat and stood up, going to pour herself some water into a plastic cup. When she turned back around, Clark was sitting upright on the bed now, staring at her.
"What?" she asked, sounding scared.
"You think this is guilt," Clark said, "you think what is happening is guilt. That's why I sound like him."
"Well what other reason could it possibly be?" Angie asked, "I shoot a man in the back of the head and then I just get to walk away from that, assuaged of any wrong doing? I don't think so. If anything I'm surprised it took this long."
"I'm telling you it isn't," Clark said as she walked back around and sat back down opposite him again, sipping her water cautiously, as he added, "it isn't guilt. After all, you've had this before. You've heard other dogs with the voices of familiar people. It's simply your brain attempting to assign reason to something that has no reason, because you're sick."
"...and you just happen to sound like the man I killed," Angie said.
"I can only give you pseudo therapeutic answers, not actual answers," Clark said, "I'm in your head, and your head is trying to calm you down. Trying to make you see that what you're dealing with isn't that big a deal, something to be scared of or ashamed about. You know Rachel saw the See Through Horse. People associated animals with trauma if the two are closely connected enough. That's all this is."
Angie nodded slowly, listening. Clark was right. Even if he sounded like Calvin, she knew it wasn't him, and she wasn't hearing him as a way to blame herself, but simply because, as he'd told her, this was what her illness did. Angie exhaled deeply and fall back onto the bed. Clark hopped down from the other and up onto hers, laid down beside her, and planted his head on her chest. She smiled and scratched behind his ear, making his tail thump.
"You're a good dog," she said, and he woofed quietly.
***
"Banks make me nervous," Rachel said, "I always feel like I'm two steps away from breaking the law somehow."
Amelia chuckled, and Rachel smiled. The two had gone to 4 different banks at this point, and at each one, they'd been told this key wasn't theirs. They were hoping that, by this point, the 5th would be the one, but they weren't holding their breath anymore.
"I just want to have all of his stuff together before I leave town, you know?" Amelia said, as she turned the page in the magazine she was looking at as she and Rachel leaned against the wall, waiting for the teller to return; she continued, "I want it all together, everything finished, so I don't have to come back. So that Calvin can just...be put behind me once and for all."
"That's understandable," Rachel said, chewing on her nails absentmindedly, "you think this one will be it?"
"I'm not banking on it," Amelia said, the both of them smirking at one another.
"You suck," Rachel said under her breath, the both of them laughing again. Finally the teller reappeared and the girls turned to face her.
"This is our key," she said happily, "would you like to come with me, use it, see what's in the box?"
The teller opened the little gate and allowed the girls to enter, then followed her into the backroom and down a hallway. Rachel had her hands stuffed in her jacket pockets as she watched Amelia walk a bit ahead of her, speaking with the teller. Amelia, in her right low rise hip hugging jeans and her t-shirt with the Edward Gorey print and her bomber jacket. Amelia was so much cooler than she herself could ever hope to aspire to be, and it was nice to finally be friends with another artist with style.
"Your brother left you everything, you said, and we have seen you are the executor of his will, so," the teller said to Amelia, "obviously you're free to remove anything or everything from the box if you so wish."
"Why would he choose a different bank than where he kept his money?" Amelia asked, "That just doesn't make sense to me."
"People do it sometimes," the teller said, shrugging, "maybe this stuff was a bit more personal and he didn't want it to be associated with where he kept his cash, I'm not your brother so I can't say. Either way, I'm sorry for your loss, and hopefully having this sorted out will bring you some kind of peace. When you're done, please shut the box and I'll meet you back at the front."
The woman handed Amelia back the key and then exited. Amelia and Rachel looked at the key and then at one another. Amelia slowly sighed, as if preparing for something big. Rachel put a hand on her arm, and the two glanced at one another.
"You okay?" Rachel asked, "you want me to do it?"
"No, I can do it. I have to do it," Amelia said, Rachel nodding in understanding. Amelia turned to face the wall, the rows of boxes stretched out before her, and she inserted the key into Calvin's, number 379. She turned it, heard the box click, and slowly swung the door open. She reached inside and pulled out a handful of things. Some of them were just photos. Photos of him and his wife, his daughter, their family. Family photos of himself and Amelia. Jewelry, likely again belonging to his wife. Amelia sniffled and started to cry as she sifted through these things in her hand. Rachel came up behind her and hugged her, resting her head against hers. Amelia was so appreciative for the comfort. Some bank papers. Some important government documents, his original birth certificate, things of that nature. And then, at the very bottom of the stack, was a plain thin white envelope. With Rachel's name. Amelia and Rachel exchanged a similarly confused look, as Amelia handed it back to her.
"It's for you," she said.
Rachel took it, her hands shaking nervously, as she lifted up the flap and pulled out a single sheet of paper with Calvin's handwriting. She stood there and read to herself while Amelia went back to looking at the photos.
"Rachel,
I put this here as a security measure. If you're reading it, obviously I'm dead, hence why you're reading it. This isn't to blame anyone. This isn't to point fingers. Whatever happened probably happened because I deserved it. I blame myself moreso than anybody else. I brought everything onto myself. I am to blame. But I want you to know how much I appreciated you being my friend, and how much I hate that you'll be mad at yourself for my decisions. I did this. I killed me. If anything, you just kept me going for a longer amount of time than I should've had. Thank you for that, I suppose, painful as it was, because knowing you was enjoyable and I'll miss you greatly, as I'm sure you'll miss me. Tell Wyatt the same please. I hope you all can find ways to go on without me, and make progress in the areas you're hoping to make progress in. I figured you would come to this box with my sister, so since that's probably the case, take care of her please. She's a wonderful person and she's been hurt enough. Don't let another member of my family go down my path. Thank you again.
Your friend,
Calvin."
Rachel wanted to break down. He'd written an alibi letter. She had no idea he would've done this. He knew he was on the verge of being taken out, and he wanted to spare Rachel specifically any issues with that. He didn't want Amelia to think she or anyone else was involved. He probably knew, that very night, that he wasn't leaving that spot when he met with Wyatt and Angie. Rachel lost it. She fell back against the lockers and started weeping, sliding down against the wall. Amelia got on her knees and pulled Rachel into her chest, hugging her, petting her hair.
"Shhh, it's okay," Amelia said, crying a little herself, "you're okay. We're okay."
Rachel hugged Amelia back, and promised Calvin, internally, that she'd take care of his sister. It was the least she could do.
***
"Is there...anything else we really need to discuss?" Kelly asked.
"Maybe what's for dinner?" Wyatt said, "don't really feel like cooking tonight."
"I meant about...ya know, what's going on," Kelly said, making Wyatt chuckle as he came back to the couch and handed her her drink before sitting down. Kelly lifted her legs and plopped them down across his lap and he massaged her feet as she sipped her tea.
"There is but it's not a discussion I have to have with you, it's a discussion I have to have with Scarlett," Wyatt said, "you and I are clearcut, I think. I mean, unless you suddenly decide you don't want this, which I can't see being the case."
"I want nothing more than I want this," Kelly whispered, and Wyatt smiled. She rested her eyes and relaxed as he massaged her feet, and the two just sat there in silence, enjoying their newfound relationship. Each had wanted this so badly, and now the moment was here, and it felt so normal, so ordinary. Wyatt cleared this throat and looked back over at her.
"So I'm thinking maybe just...burgers? I know that isn't exciting, but," Wyatt said.
"Burgers is fine," Kelly said happily, "and that's okay, we've had enough excitement to last a lifetime."
Wyatt leaned over and kissed her, taking her by surprise, until she giggled and kissed him back, setting her mug down on the coffee table and crawled up closer, kissing him more. It was so nice, to both of them, to finally feel loved, either for the first time or again. Wyatt would order burgers, and they would eat and watch bad TV and crack jokes like every other night, and it was perfect. But he couldn't help but shake the fact that, in the back of his mind, he had to deal with one more thing before making a clean break. One last thing to end.
His marriage.