Laying in bed, staring at the ceiling overhead as her hand was wrapped around a mug of hot coffee that was sitting on her chest, Natasha tried to remember the last time she'd felt this alone. Not just in the house, no, but in life. Violet was off to school for the day, and now Natasha was with her thoughts, and those thoughts weren't being very kind to her. She sat up and sipped the coffee, then heard a knock at the front door. She sighed, slid to the end of the bed and slipped her feet into her slippers, heading down the stairs to answer it.

As she walked down the stairs, she passed a myriad of photos hanging on the wall and thought to herself, "I should take these down", because a good majority of them still included Stephen, her soon to be ex husband who'd left her for her sister. She didn't need that constant visual reminder. Natasha reached the front door and opened it, surprised to see Jay standing there. She stepped aside and he walked in, pulling his cap off and running his hands through his short brown hair.

"You look like shit," he said, half smiling.

"Well, then at least it's conducive to how I feel," she replied, "Do you want some coffee?"

"I suppose so," Jay said, following her into the kitchen where he took a seat at the table, watching her get a mug from the cabinet; he sighed and added, "You don't really look like shit, for what it's worth. I think you look pretty good, considering."

"Considering?"

"You know, not...being at the station anymore," Jay said, almost mumbling the last part.

"It's surprising what people will let you get away with for as long as you make them money," Natasha said, bringing him his coffee and opening a small bag of donuts on the table for them, digging into it as she continued, "As soon as I was deemed no longer financially sound, I was let go, but as long as I was making them money I could say or do whatever I want and it didn't matter. I was just trying to teach the kids something."

"I found what you did rather admirable, for what it's worth," Jay said.

"Well thanks," Nat replied, smiling as she popped a tiny donut in her mouth, "That means a lot."

"That's actually partially why I'm here," Jay said, "I have an idea, to bring you back."

"I don't wanna go back to the station."

"No, not to the station," Jay said, leaning back and grinning, "How would you like to go global? I think we should be on the internet."

                                                                                             ***

Violet and Courtney were sitting in the school library, working on respective homework, Courtney chewing on her pencil while Violet fervently scribbled down notes, headphones clasped tightly onto her ears. Courtney sighed and looked around, then nudged Violet in the shoulder, getting her attention. Violet tugged her headphones down and looked at Courtney.

"What?" she asked.

"...I don't think I'm going to do well in this class," Courtney said, "I can't focus. If I can't focus, I can't retain information. What do you do if you have trouble focusing?"

"I guess I, um, just kind of pinch myself so I don't daydream. We can also go over the work together, and uh, maybe compare notes?" Violet asked, and Courtney nodded, sighing.

"That might work...I'm just so worried I'm not going to be able to stick it all out, and go to college eventually. I don't even know that I want to. I mean, if high school is this scary...what would college be like? This is already dangerous for me. Are you excited to go to college?"

"I don't know," Violet said, "I don't know that I can leave my mom."

"That makes sense," Courtney said.

Just then they heard a commotion, and looked to the sunken area of the library, where a girl about their age was seated, rocking in her chair, hitting herself in the head. Violet and Courtney glanced at one another, then back at the girl, in her striped multicolored shirt and blue pleated skirt, while the librarian and a teacher approached her, trying to talk quietly to her, presumably to get her to calm down. After she did, the girls went back to their conversation.

"What if we went to the same school, and then we could also keep tabs on our parents?" Courtney asked, "That way we wouldn't have to be alone at college, and we could make sure our folks are alright?"

"That would, uh, that would be...nice, yes, I guess," Violet said, before lowering her voice, glancing back over her shoulder at the girl and asking, "what do you think is wrong with her?"

"No idea, but they seem to have gotten it under control," Courtney said, turning her attention back to her homework, chewing on her pencil again. Violet wanted to get back to work, but she couldn't get her attention of the girl, who she noticed was reading a large childrens storybook. After a moment, the girl looked around the library, and then dug into her backpack and pulled out a small snack of cheese and crackers and started eating, her eyes eventually catching Violet's. She raised a hand and waved cautiously, a gesture which Violet returned.

Something about the girl unnerved Violet, but she wasn't sure why.

                                                                                              ***

"I can build a website, we can host video on the server and we can do or say whatever we want. Imagine it, no standards and practices, and you own all your content," Jay said as they now sat in Natasha's living room; he continued, "It wouldn't cost much, and I'd be willing to foot part of the bill."

"Why would you potentially put yourself at financial ruin for my sake?" Nat asked, still eating out of the donut bag as she sat in the large recliner opposite the couch where Jay was.

"Because...because you're my friend, and we've worked together forever," Jay said, "and...people need you, Nat. Let me tell you, ever since you were let go, and the show was pulled, we have had so many complaints, phone calls and e-mails asking why you aren't on anymore. People need you, so they don't feel so alone. Wasn't that what it was all about?"

"I don't think I'm exactly the kind of person who should be giving people life advice," Nat said, "I mean, have you seen the mess I've made of my life?"

"You didn't make a mess of it, he did. And you didn't get yourself fired, that asshole figured it wasn't worth the publicity anymore and wasn't sure where you might go next, but guess what, unpredictability is something society doesn't see anymore, and we need people like you, who are open and raw and honest and-"

"Jay-"

"-and women, god, you of all people being one should recognize how much society demands perfection from women. How much it hates women who are a mess. Other women who are messes need you to see that it's perfectly fine to be that way, and that they too can be successes even in spite of that. You're a...a hero, dude."

Natasha felt her eyes swell up with tears, but she didn't want to cry. She'd never heard Jay be this honest with her, even in all the years they'd worked together. She sighed and rubbed her face on her sweater sleeve, sighing.

"...would it be hard?" she asked.

"Not at all," Jay said, "We'd have to find someone to edit, obviously, but...I think if we find the right person, the three of us could pull it off. The internet could use some kindness. It's become such a vicious horrid place full of unbridled hatred, and I think a wholesome, helpful place like what we could build would benefit a lot of people online."

Natasha sighed and closed up the donut bag, tossing it onto the coffee table. She wiped her hands on her knees, smearing powdered sugar on her pajama pants.

"Okay, so...how do we do this?" she asked.

                                                                                               ***

As the girls were sitting on the bleachers in their gym uniforms, watching the other students do one physical activity or another, Violet couldn't stop thinking about that girl from the library. She glanced at Courtney, who was now sucking on her lip and watching a handful of guys playing soccer nearby.

"I'm not like her, am I?" Violet asked, and Courtney looked at her, confused.

"Who?" she asked.

"The girl from, the, uh, the...library, remember? Her? Earlier?"

"Oh, right. No, you're not like her, she's clearly got bigger issues," Courtney said, "You're not like her, Violet."

"If I were there, would you...you know, um, like...ugh...be my friend, still?" Violet asked, and Courtney shifted herself to be facing Violet fully now.

"Of course I would!" Courtney said, "Why are you asking me this?"

"I think we should, um, like, uh...what's that word?"

"Befriend?"

"Yeah, befriend her," Violet said, "Because she might, like, not uh...not have any friends, and it'd be nice for everyone to have a friend. We should, you know, befriend her."

"I mean, if you want to. I'm not exactly sure how capable of communicating she is, you saw how she acted," Courtney said, "why is this bothering you so much?"

"Because, like, people are so...nasty to me, and I...I don't want to ignore other people who, uh, who are worse off than me. I don't want to be like everyone else," Violet said, "I wanna be like my mom, I wanna be nice to others."

Courtney smiled and patted Violet on the back, nodding, understanding. The two got up and headed to the water fountain for a drink. As Violet drank and Courtney leaned against the wall, still watching the boys playing soccer, she couldn't help but notice that the girl they were talking about was sitting at a picnic table nearby, still reading the same book. She wasn't in a PE uniform, so she wasn't in their class, so why was she out here and not in class? Courtney nudged Violet and pointed at her, and Violet nodded, the two of them heading towards the picnic table.

As they approached, the girl looked up and hugged the storybook to her chest. Nobody said a word at first, until finally Violet cleared her throat and tried to open communication.

"Hello," she said, "I saw you in the library."

The girl didn't respond.

"Um..." Violet continued, "what are you reading?"

Again, no response.

"Why aren't you in class?" Courtney asked, and the girl pointed at a group of other kids their age sitting nearby, with two adults talking to them all. Courtney understood. Special Ed. She sighed and looked at Violet, who so desperately wanted to make this work, and she felt bad for her.

"What's your name?" Violet asked, "I'm Violet, this is Courtney."

The girl stared at them, then finally said, "My name is Phoebe."

"It's nice to meet you Phoebe," Violet said, Courtney nodding in agreement.

"I have a bracelet," Phoebe said, holding out her wrist and showing them a metal band attached around her wrist, which bore her name, her age, and an acronym of one kind that simply read MRF. The girls looked at one another, then looked back at Phoebe who was smiling at them.

"It's a nice bracelet," Violet said, and Phoebe laughed, rocking on the picnic table. Just then one of the two teachers out there with the other Special Ed kids called to Phoebe, and she got up and left without even saying goodbye. Courtney looked at Violet and chewed her lip.

"So," she asked, "Feel any better?"

"Not really," Violet said.

                                                                                               ***

Natasha and Jay went to pick up Violet that day at school; Natasha was too tired to drive, and wasn't even dressed in actual clothes, so Jay offered to drive her to the school to get Violet. As Violet climbed into the backseat of Jay's car and shut the door behind her, waving goodbye to Courtney, she was confused as to why Jay was here.

"Hey kid," Jay said, "Nice to see you again."

"You too," Violet said, "Why are you here?"

"Hah, uh, I'm helping your mom," Jay said, "We're going to bring her show back and put it on the internet."

"That's cool," Violet said, before tapping her mom on the shoulder and leaning up between the two front seats. Nat, who had one leg up on the dash and was reclining, looked back at her daughter and smiled at her.

"What's up pumpkin? You have a good day at school?" she asked.

"What's an MRF?" Violet asked.

"What do you mean?" Nat asked.

"I met a girl at school and, uh, and she had a, um, a bracelet, you know? But it said MRF and me and Courtney don't know what it means," Violet said.

Nat shrugged and Jay cleared his throat as he turned into an intersection.

"I went to high school with a girl who had one of those," Jay said, "Well, she was the sister of a friend of mine, actually. I asked him what it meant one time and he told me it stood for Mentally Retarded Female. Not sure exactly how the usage of that word is still flying by todays standards, especially in the medical community. I mean, sure, it's scientifically accurate but still."

"...why don't I have one?" Violet asked, now fully grabbing Nat's attention. Nat looked behind her in the car at her daughter, a look of anguish on her face.

"Because that's not what you are, Violet," Natasha said, "You're not that. There's levels to mental blockages, varying degrees and so forth, and you're not that at all. You might have some problems, but they're nothing you can't overcome. You're extremely high functioning. Why would you-"

"I tried to be her friend, I wanted...to be like you, and...and um, and help someone," Violet said, starting to sound sad and sniffling, "but she...I don't know if she understood that. I wanna help people too."

Natasha exhaled and sat back in her seat, so Violet wouldn't see her silently crying.

"Kitten, you're a good kid, and you'll help plenty of people, believe me. Take your friend Courtney, you're helping her feel more comfortable at school, and that's worth a lot," Natasha said, "I'm proud of you."

After Jay got back to Nat's house, and after Violet had secluded herself in her bedroom, headphones blaring into her ears while she finished her homework, Natasha opened a bottle of wine for herself and Jay. Jay sat back on the couch while Nat paced, sipping her wine, shaking her head.

"I told you people need you," Jay said.

"If we do this, if I agree to do this, we need to ensure that some of the money we make from this venture goes to a charitable endeavor," Natasha said, "Helping mentally challenged kids, or...or like, battered women or something."

"I'm fine with that," Jay said, and with that, Natasha held her hand out for him to shake, which he did.

"Happy to be in business with you," she said, making him laugh.

                                                                                                ***

The phone rang. It rang again. Natasha curled her finger around her hair and waited. She knew eventually it would be answered. She exhaled and looked at herself in her vanity mirror on her dresser, thinking about this new idea Jay had approached her with, and found she actually felt excited for it, which was a nice change of pace. Excitement instead of dread was something she found she could easily get used to.

"Hello?" a voice asked.

"Finally," Natasha said, "We need to talk."

"What about?" the person asked.

"You need to see your daughter," Nat said, making Stephen sigh on the other end of the line.

Standing at the podium in the gymnasium, looking out at the faces of all these kids, Natasha couldn't help but feel awful as her eyes, after scanning the crowd, finally landed on her own daughters face, and she saw how fraught with worry and fear it was. It broke her heart to see Violet feeling that way, and Natasha finally knew what she had to do.

"I don't know why I'm here, honestly," Natasha said, "I've been asked to speak because, apparently, I know how to take care of myself, and therefore I must know how to teach others to take care of themselves too, and take care of one another. But...if your own parents couldn't do it, then what makes someone think I can?"

The room had all the air sucked out of it, and you could've heard a pin drop. Courtney and Violet looked at one another, and Courtney broke out in an enormous grin. This was going to be a good assembly.

                                                                                                  ***

Natasha awoke the day of her school speech with a feeling of absolute dread in her gut. She exhaled slowly and then wearily climbed out of bed. As her feet touched the floor, she could just sense today was going to be different, but she wasn't entirely sure why. So Natasha took a shower, got dressed and then headed downstairs to make some breakfast. She cooked up some bacon and hashbrowns and eggs and then called back up the stairs to Violet, who came down momentarily afterwards, seeming somewhat deflated and quiet. Violet sat the table as her mother served her breakfast, and she picked at the food, nibbling a bit here and there. Natasha seated herself across from Violet and ate as well, neither of them looking at one another.

"please don't do it," Violet finally managed to whisper, still refusing to look up at her mother.

Natasha opened her mouth to respond, but instead shook her head and continued eating. She knew there was absolutely nothing she could say short of agreeing to back out that would make Violet happy. All she wanted was a chance to reach kids with her message of taking care one themselves and one another, and this was a good starting point. She wasn't ready to give up on that just yet, even if Violet pleaded with her. After breakfast, Natasha cleaned up her things and did all the dishes before getting into the car to drive Violet to school, but Violet decided to walk instead. This act of indifference really said something to Natasha about just how deeply upset Violet was with her decision, and that stung her heart quite a bit, but she ignored it, put the car in drive and took off for the station.

Violet spent a good hour just trying to get to school, and was about 15 minutes late when she finally arrived on campus. She told her homeroom teacher that their car had had trouble, and the teacher didn't give her any flack. Violet seated herself at a table in the back, empty and away from all her peers, and decided to read while the morning announcements ran over the loudspeaker. Once the bell rang, Violet got up and went to her first class, but - and this would be the trend for the day - she didn't pay any attention. She merely coasted through class, and didn't care two bits. Way she saw it, if her own mother didn't care enough about her to not speak at her school, why should she care about herself?

                                                                                           ***

"I'd be so paranoid if I were you," Jay said, sitting in the stations kitchen with Natasha as he ate his breakfast that he'd brought from a local nearby fast food place. Natasha shook her head and pushed her hair out of her eyes.

"I am paranoid, please don't think I'm not," she replied, "But I think it's a worthy thing to do. I'm more annoyed, actually, at how Violet is reacting to it more than I am worried how well I'll get through to the other kids."

"Kids are weird, who knows why she's acting that way," Jay said, biting into his sandwich as Sharla came in and poured herself a cup of coffee, then leaned on the counter and sipped it as she watched them.

"Don't you usually bring coffee?" Natasha asked, and Sharla nodded.

"Yeah, but I didn't have the time this morning," she said, "Which is a shame, cause I really hate office coffee."

"Well, good thing for you is that we're hardly an office and that's hardly coffee," Jay said, making Natasha crack up, which she greatly needed and appreciated. Sharla chuckled a bit as she nodded and continued sipping then took a seat at the round table with them.

"So what are you paranoid about?" Sharla asked, "I could hear you from the hall."

"I'm giving a speech to kids at my daughters high school today," she said, "But I just...she's so mad at me doing it, and I can't understand why. I mean, I guess I sort of get it, cause they're teenagers and they're not very nice, but that's why I'm doing it, to try and make them nicer, you know? That's my whole shtick is to get people to be better people, to themselves and one another."

Sharla sighed and leaned back, letting her ponytail down and running her hands through her perfect hair, sifting her fingers through each strand while Jay and Natasha watched, both rather surprised by her inherent beauty, as they rarely saw her outside of her stage persona.

"It's hard being a teenager, don't take it too personally," Sharla finally said, "I'm sure it'll all work out."

"Gee, thanks for the parental platitude," Natasha said sarcastically, making Sharla smirk and raise her cup.

"My pleasure!" she responded.

                                                                                             ***

Courtney found Violet sitting in the dugout of the baseball field at lunch. She was reading when Courtney found her, and Courtney took her seat by Violet's side, not saying a word for a few minutes until it became clear Violet wasn't going to acknowledge her. Courtney then cleared her throat and touched Violet on the shoulder to get her attention. Violet shut her book and looked at her.

"Is everything okay?" Courtney asked, "I didn't do something wrong, did I? I've been looking for you all day. Are you avoiding me?"

"No," Violet replied, "I'm not avoiding you, I'm just...not...good at being friends."

Courtney sighed and slumped on the bench. She wanted to be a good friend, she wanted to tell her that it was fine to not want to be around her friends sometimes, everyone was entitled to their personal space, but she also wanted Violet to know she was there for her whenever she needed or wanted someone. After a moment of chewing on her lip, Courtney opened her mouth to respond, but Violet interrupted her.

"My mom is coming to talk today," Violet said, "She's going to stand in the auditorium and talk to all the kids, and when I asked her not to, she wouldn't stop. She told me it was something she had to do. I asked her a lot and she said she was going to do it no matter what."

"That's...unlike her," Courtney said, furrowing her brow, "She's usually fairly agreeable. I can't imagine why she wouldn't-"

"Who cares," Violet said sternly, in a voice so cold that Courtney was surprised it'd come from her at all. She'd never heard Violet sound this empty and dark, and her tone upset her a bit, she had to admit. Courtney stood up, sighed and turned to walk away. As she left, she glanced back over her shoulder at her friend and thought about how badly she wanted to help her, but she just wasn't sure how. Still, she was determined to find a way.

                                                                                         ***

When Natasha pulled into the school parking lot, she could feel the anxiousness in her stomach and was having trouble swallowing. Everything she did was on a sound stage, without an audience (aside from the crew, she guessed), so perhaps her nerves just came from the fact that she wasn't used to speaking in front of large groups whose entire focus was on her. She picked up her water bottle from the cup holder and took a large healthy drink before wiping her mouth on her sleeve and convincing herself she could do this.

Natasha climbed out of the car and, after opening the trunk to get her supplies, started preparing for her walk into the school auditorium when she heard someone come up behind her. She thought it might be a teacher who had come to help - or god forbid a fan - but when she turned around, instead, she was faced with Courtney who was staring at her.

"Oh," Natasha said, "Hi Courtney. How are you?"

"Why are you doing this?" Courtney asked, surprising Natasha with her brashness.

"Doing what? Speaking here?" Natasha asked, "Because it's my chance to try and teach your peers to appreciate themselves."

"I have news for you, most already appreciate themselves far too much. Their egos are half the problem," Courtney said.

"Well, nobody else is doing it, they have parents who work all the time, there's no role models anywhere anymore. I'm just trying to show them that they can be healthier people, for themselves and for one another," Natasha stated, starting to sound annoyed, "I don't know why Violet can't see that."

"Maybe she doesn't think they deserve your advice, your help, your generosity because they won't give any to her," Courtney said, shrugging and holding her books to her chest, "Just a thought."

And with that, Courtney turned and walked off, leaving a somewhat stunned Natasha standing there, feeling downright ashamed. As she watched her daughters best, and seemingly only, friend walk away, she felt a twinge of respect for her. Nobody besides Natasha herself had ever publicly stood up for Violet, and now here she was, her own mother, needing to be put in her place for forgetting how her daughter had been treated and slightly treating her that way herself. Natasha waited a moment, then took all her things from the trunk and headed inside to the auditorium. Once inside she set her materials by the podium and looked around at all the teachers, all the students, and began to feel a terrible churning feeling in her gut, like the one she'd felt this morning.

Standing at the podium in the gymnasium, looking out at the faces of all these kids, Natasha couldn't help but feel awful as her eyes, after scanning the crowd, finally landed on her own daughters face, and she saw how fraught with worry and fear it was. It broke her heart to see Violet feeling that way, and Natasha finally knew what she had to do.

"I don't know why I'm here, honestly," Natasha said, "I've been asked to speak because, apparently, I know how to take care of myself, and therefore I must know how to teach others to take care of themselves too, and take care of one another. But...if your own parents couldn't do it, then what makes someone think I can?"

The room had all the air sucked out of it, and you could've heard a pin drop. Courtney and Violet looked at one another, and Courtney broke out in an enormous grin. This was going to be a good assembly.

"I...I'm supposed to care, right? That's my whole brand, man. Caring. But even the kindest people can be selfish. Even the most caring people can be rude. Nobody is a bastion of perfection and genuine empathy, no matter how hard they might try to be, and the ones who claim they are the most dangerous. So, yeah, I care. I don't think people take care of themselves. I think they often throw themselves under the bus for others. And there's nothing wrong with putting others before yourself, that's a noble idea, certainly. And you should care about others, obviously. But the thing is, you don't. Nobody really does. Because to care about others would mean accepting that there are people who might mean more than you, and that's a blow to our ego, and that's not something we're willing to accept. That's why you bully, isn't it? To make yourself feel better, to make others recognize you're better than them."

The students didn't say a word, they were seemingly captivated by her speech, which shocked the staff, none of whom were trying to stop Natasha.

"And if you won't care about others, why should I care about you? Your parents obviously don't, or they'd be doing this job, they wouldn't leave it to some public access TV host. They're the ones whose job it is to teach you these things, things they've obviously failed to teach you because, frankly, they probably never learned it themselves. I'm not mad at you for acting out, I'm not judging you for behaving this way. It's inevitable when you come from a family whose forgotten you. I'm mad at society for allowing it to get this way. And more than that, I'm sad. I'm sad for you. I'm sad that you can't feel for others, and I'm sad that you don't think you deserve better. My husband left me earlier this year, because...now that I think about it...I put my daughter before him. He felt neglected, and I understand that now. But I did what my own parents refused to do. Raise their child. Which, in some warped way, means raising myself."

Natasha took a long deep breath and looked back at her supplies, which she'd never set up, and then shook her head.

"I was supposed to come here today and teach you all how to be nice to yourselves, nice to one another, but what's the point? Look at this useless crap. Charts and graphs and stupid anecdotes don't mean jack all in the face of abject runaway hormones. So many of you harass my daughter because she's a bit slower than you, or because she talks a bit funny, or because she's just not as 'with it' as you all seem to think you are. But there's one thing she has that you don't, and that's kindness. She knows how to love herself, and how to love those around her. You've all shown us that you don't, and it's not your fault. It's the adults around you. They're the ones who failed, because people failed them. It's learnt behavior. Generational inhereted trauma and uncaring. Hands off parenting isn't hands off, it's not parenting at all. I feel like I'm expected to be there for you, and I wanna be there for you, because you should have someone, but...I have my own daughter to focus on, and you've all been nothing but cruel to her, so why should I extend an olive branch of kindness to a garden filled with thorns?"

Natasha finally shook her head and looked up again, staring directly at Violet in the stands, and smiled.

"My daughter is a better person than any of you will ever be," she said, "She could be that person for you, if you just stopped being so goddamned cruel. They say kids are taught to hate, but they aren't. Humans are innately and inherently evil from the offset. They have to be taught to not hit, taught to share, taught to love. Maybe it's time you all learned too."

Natasha turned, grabbed all her supplies and walked out of the auditorium, leaving everyone at a loss for words. After a moment, Violet stood up and, grabbing her bookbag, raced down the steps and after her mom, chasing her out the doors to the parking lot. As she reached the car, she saw her mother shoving her things into the trunk, and once she closed it, she turned to face her daughter.

"Mom-"

"Thank you," Natasha said, approaching her and putting her hands on her daughters shoulders, "...thank you for being who you are. Thank you for...just...being the best child. Thank you for staying. I'm sorry I didn't listen to you. I always want to listen to you. I got blinded and I'm sorry."

"It's okay, mom," Violet said, "Everyone makes mistakes."

Natasha chuckled, tears rolling down her cheeks, as she looked at Violets face.

"Can I hug you?" she asked, and Violet nodded, feeling Natasha pull her in close for a firm hug. Violet dropped her bookbag and hugged her mother back. Standing there, in the school parking lot, hugging one another, nothing else mattered now. Her show was public access, her relationship with her child was publicly known, and it was fine. She was fine with it all. For the first time since her husband had left, Natasha felt like a whole person, because she allowed the only other person that mattered to be a part of her whole self.

Because, in the end, the thing Natasha had learned was most important about taking care of yourself...was learning to take care of others.

A surprisingly simple thing, really.

"Simply Clean?" Natasha asked, holding the bottle in her hand, turning it over to look at the ingredients on the back, an eyebrow arching somewhat in surprise as she added, "mmm, organic. I don't...I don't know how comfortable I feel in hawking organic soap."

"I'm not going to try and tell you some corporate lie like 'it grows the brand' or whatever, Miss Simple," the man in the suit sitting across from her at the table said, "but put aside 'the brand' and think about it like this; think what you could do with the money. You're a good person, don't you want to bring in money to help the station? Donate to charities? Give back to underfunded schools? Hell, what about helping your daughter? You could easily send her to college with what you'd make off this in a single year, I guarantee it, and the time to do it is now, when everyone knows who you are. The heat is on and turned up, now is the time to sell it."

"I just...it feels so...dishonest," Natasha said, setting the soap down on the table and wiping her hands on her shirt, "Ironically enough it makes me feel dirty. Lawrence smirked at this and looked away from the table as Nat tried not to laugh herself.

"A lot of people don't trust advertising. They believe we want to pervert their message, betray their beliefs, their ideals and ethics and morals, but I'm only bringing you things I think would be right for your name, your brand. Things that are, as you would say, good for you. Organic food or household items, a modest and affordable fashion line, things that are for the person and helping them feel better about themselves."

"I just...how the fuck, pardon my language, does organic dish soap help someone feel better about themselves?" Natasha asked.

"Because by using it, they know they're doing good for the environment," the man said, leaning back in his seat and straightening his tie, "It makes them feel good about themselves to know they're taking care of the world, and by that extension of others."

"I...guuueeesss," Natasha said, "Let me think about it, can I just think about it?"

"Absolutely!" the man said, standing up and, leaning across the table, shook Natasha and Lawrence's hands before leaving the room. Natasha turned in her rolling chair to face Lawrence, who simply shook his head and chuckled as she exhaled and shrugged.

"You know, you'd think people would want to make millions of dollars, but...I don't know, it just doesn't appeal to me," Natasha said, "I mean, the money is appealing, of course, but I don't like the idea of my face on lots of stuff for people to buy. I'm selling peace of mind, not organic Cranberry Juice."

"Natty," Lawrence said, leaning forward, "You know I trust you, you know that I believe only you know what's best for you and what you do, and you know I won't push something if you really feel that uncomfortable about it, but I think it's time to tell you that you're...really...the only one capable of bringing funds into this station at first. I mean, sure, we've got Sharla but her workout DVDs and other merch only does so well, honestly, but I'd never say that to her face of course. But you...you've created a persona that people really relate to, and that's what sells things. Something people can relate to."

"...is that all I am now? A persona?" Natasha asked, looking at her nails, as Lawrence thought.

"Of...I mean....no, of course not, but...god, you know what I mean, right? People see you, they relate to you, because you're trying to help them and-"

"I'm trying to genuinely help them, yes, and then I'm going to betray that trust to hawk some fucking natural laundry soap?" Natasha asked, "Don't you see how pseudo scummy that is? Don't you see how snake like that is? I'm using that trust, that trust they've put in me because I actually care, to sell them shit they don't really need. I mean, I'm all for helping the planet, I'm all for people using organic products to promote the longevity of the planet and themselves, but Larry, I'm not...I'm not going to sell them things I don't believe in when the only thing I do believe in is helping them help themselves."

Lawrence leaned back and sighed, folding his arms.

"Alright," he said, "It's up to you, like I said, I just wanted you to see it from the stations point of view."

"And, quite frankly, that's somewhat unscrupulous, you're putting its future in my hands, you're making me feel responsible for its poor profits. That's way too much pressure, especially for someone who has nothing to do with the business itself and is just a person who has a show on the network. I thought you were better than that."

With that, Natasha stood up and exited, leaving Lawrence to sit there and think about what she'd said. Out in the hall, she leaned against the wall and exhaled, feeling a bit bad about having been so harsh towards her friend who'd so often defended her, but she also felt somewhat disgusted by his rather shallow behavior. Standing there, Sharla stopped walking by, sipping on a iced coffee and looked at her. Natasha looked up at Sharla and Sharla smiled and waved at her.

"Hi," Natasha said, chuckling.

"Everything alright, champ?" Sharla asked, and Natasha shrugged, as they started walking down the hall together.

"I don't know, I feel like everyone is starting to try and use me," Natasha said, "I'm starting to regret having done what I did because, even if I made a point and got through to people, look at what it's done. Now I'm being molded into nothing more than another commodity used to further a market that frankly is already rather inundated with shallow minded people selling things nobody needs. Before all this, I was just another employee. I could do my show and nobody would bat an eye, but now everyones eyes are on me all the time, just waiting to try and milk whatever it is I do for their own profit margin."

"That's deep," Sharla said, "I know what you mean, I feel sort of bad for selling my shakes and exercise equipment and stuff because I don't want to be a sales person, I want to be an exercise coach. I want people to do this for themselves, not buy it and do it because I told them to. But sadly a mass uninformed public has to be told what to do and how to do it, and often what to do it with, and soon, before you know it, your good intentions have become nothing more than yet another marketing tool."

"Exactly," Natasha said, "I just..."

They stopped and Sharla sipped from her coffee, tilting her blonde ponytailed head to the side, waiting for her to finish.

"I just want things to go back to normal, this is all too stressful for me," Natasha said.

                                                                                           ***

Violet and Courtney were sitting in Violets bedroom on the bed as Courtney flipped through a fashion magazine and Violet read a book. Neither had said a word in a while, but that was fine. They were happy to have the sort of friendship where they didn't have to speak often in order for anything to matter. They merely enjoyed being in one anothers company. Finally, after a few minutes, Courtney exhaled loudly and flipped yet another page.

"You know," Courtney started, "it's really frustrating trying to find something to wear when you know that a lot of stuff isn't going to fit you solely because your body shape is just moderately different enough to make a difference."

"You look fine," Violet said, not looking up from her book.

"I mean, yeah, thankfully I was able to start HRT before anything really happened, and that staved off a lot of problems, but there's a lot of other minor things that couldn't be avoided, like, for example, the size of my feet. They aren't huge by any means, but still bigger than most girls and that's annoying."

Violet lowered her book and looked at Courtneys feet, swinging in the air on the bed as she had her legs up; Violet shrugged and said, "They look fine too. Shoes aren't something to be that self conscious about, I think."

"Well, but it's annoying when I find a pair of shoes I really like but can't wear simply because my feet are just a smidge too wide, you know? I don't know, it's annoying to me at least, especially with as into fashion as I am," Courtney said.

"Stop finding things to not like about yourself," Violet said, "Enough people will do that for you."

"Hah!" Courtney laughed, "Sometimes you make a really good point!"

The phone rang downstairs and both girls got up and headed down the stairs to listen to the message. Courtney had once asked Violet why she didn't answer the phone, and Violet had told her it gave her anxiety to talk to people she didn't know and couldn't see, which Courtney felt was a valid enough reason, so they stood in front of the answering machine and waited for the caller to leave a message. Finally, after what felt like 7 rings, the machine finally clicked on, and a voice came over the speakers.

"Hello Miss Simple, this is the principal of your daughters school," the voice said, "I'm calling to ask if you'd be interested in giving a speech for Career Day in the auditorium. We've been aware of your recent publicity, and with your show being the beacon of positivity that it is, we think you'd be a perfect candidate for doing such a thing. Please call me back and let me know as soon as possible so we can make arrangements and fit you into the schedule, thank you."

The call ended and Violet and Courtney glanced at one another somewhat uncomfortably.

"Well," Courtney said, "I guess it's better than him calling cause you're in trouble. Maybe she'll decline."

"Only if I beg," Violet said, turning and heading into the kitchen, leaving Courtney to feel like she'd struck a nerve of some kind.

                                                                                               ***

Sitting in her car, listening to quiet jazz on her radio while she waited at a red light, Natasha couldn't help but feel like now she'd been guilt tripped into doing something she didn't want to do. She didn't want to promote products, she didn't want to sell things. She just wanted to help people. But, if the station was in need of money that badly...just then another car pulled up beside her and honked its horn. This startled her out of her thoughts and brought her back to reality. Nat looked towards the car and rolled her window down.

"You're Miss Simple, yeah?" a woman in the passenger seat asked.

"Uh...yes?" Nat replied, unsure of where this was headed.

"I love your show! You're putting out such a positive message, and it's really great to see when the rest of television is littered with evil and hatred, so thank you!" the woman added, before rolling her window back up and driving off as the light changed.

Natasha sighed and started driving as well. She couldn't deny her presence was something that had become sought after recently, but she was beginning to feel like it was being sought after for all the wrong reasons. She turned into a nearby parking lot for a small drug store and stopped the car, then sat there in her seat and breathed slowly, heavily, trying to take all the weight she felt off her shoulders even just momentarily. She was having a panic attack. She hadn't had one in ages, it felt like, but now she was having them again, and she knew it'd only become fairly regular the more people bothered her for things like brand deals.

And the longer she held off on actually giving the go ahead with these deals, the more she felt Lawrence, and presumably the rest of the network emboldened by him, might be breathing down her back or giving her the evil eye, especially if she, in the end, decided against it. Natasha didn't know what to do, what to think, all she knew was she needed to relax. She needed to stop her brain from spinnin a mile a minute, and her chest to untighten. Just then her cell phone rang, and she answered.

"Hello?" she answered as calmly as she could, "Yes, this is she. I...I can't talk about this right now. Call my boss, he'll set up a meeting, thank you. Goodbye."

Natasha hung up and stared ahead at the car parked in front of her in the parking lot. She didn't even know what she was staring at exactly, or why, or even how long she stared, she just knew she had to draw the focus away from her anxiety and instead to something else, something in her immediate visual vicinity, and this car was what she had chosen. After a few minutes she could feel her pulse slow again, and her breathing returned somewhat to normal, and she felt hungry. She wanted to eat, so she pulled out and headed to a nearby fast food drive through.

She felt like anytime anyone wanted to talk to her anymore was just to get her to sign off on some deal, some sort of marketing gimmick, and nobody wanted to actually care to listen to her real message. She wasn't anti capitalist or anything, she wasn't against buying things, she just wanted to prove that what she was offering could only come from the person themselves and not a thing they were sold. Inner turmoil is rarely solved completely by impulse purchases. She got her bag of burgers, pulled into the lot of the fast food place, parked and wolfed them down one by one. God, if only she'd had known this was what her life would turn into, she may never have decided to break character and speak openly.

She needed to get home. Her daughter never wanted anything from her that had to do with work.

                                                                                               ***

"The school called," Violet said as they stood in the kitchen.

Courtney had gone home moments earlier, while Natasha made some pasta for the two of them to eat and Violet stood next to the fridge, drinking out of a juice box.

"The school?" Natasha asked, somewhat distracted by her cooking.

"Yeah, they want you to come talk, in the gym, about, um, career day?" Violet finished, taking a few sips from her juice box before sitting down at the table, "I don't know that I want you to do it though."

"Well, sweetheart, that's the sort of thing I could actually get behind," Natasha said, "That's...that's actually pushing a real message to impressionable kids who might need to hear some positivity. You know what I've done the last few weeks? Take meetings with people who want to slap my name and face on products and sell them. That's not listening to what I'm saying. But this? This is."

"Yeah but they already make fun of me enough," Violet countered, "If you came and did this, they'd make fun of me even more. That isn't fair."

"Sometimes, Violet, I'm going to do things that you aren't going to be happy with. I go out of my way to support you and listen to your concerns, because I love you and I care about how you feel, but this is one of those times when I think it's actually in my best interests to go ahead and go speak to the kids at your school. If I could just get through to one kid, it would be worth it."

Violet sat and stared at her mother. She'd never once heard her talk like this. Usually, if Violet said something would make her uncomfortable or unhappy, Natasha abided by that and decided not to partake, but this...this was different. Something had changed. Violet stood up and left her juice box on the table before heading to the doorway of the kitchen.

"Hey! Aren't you hungry?" Nat called out after her.

"No."

Violet stomped up the stairs, leaving Natasha to eat her pasta and watch TV all by herself. Up in her room, Violet sat on her bed and cried, thinking about how things had been just in the last year. She'd had a family, or at least the concept of one. Maybe her father hadn't been as great as she'd always thought he was, but now she was beginning to miss having a dad around, especially now that her mother was seemingly turning her back on her as well. Violet laid down and, despite her usual disgust towards the idea, picked up her phone to make a call. Courtney answered on the other end.

"Are you okay?" Courtney asked, "You sound...sad."

But, after a few moments, Violet decided, instead of responding, to hang up and cry herself to sleep. Natasha came in a bit later to check on her, and then headed to her bedroom herself. She'd always put Violet first, but this was the one time she wanted to do something for herself. Why couldn't Violet understand or accept that? In the midst of all these ridiculous brand deals the network was trying to make with her, this was the one thing that felt...real. That felt like it mattered. She could maybe get some kids, not adults, to listen to her, and if, as she said, even one single kid took a solid lesson away from the things she had to say, it would be worth it.

She didn't like upsetting Violet. It was her least favorite thing in the world. But after a lifetime of doing things for others, Natasha felt like she deserved to do at least one thing for herself, especially right now in this time of personal crisis.

She laid down on her bed and looked up at her ceiling.

Violet would understand eventually. She'd come around.

Or at least that's the lie Natasha told herself that night to get to sleep.

Natasha hadn't been through some of these clothes in what felt like years. Surprisingly enough, and much to her enjoyment, all of them still fit her. She was happy to discover that she hadn't lost her figure, but a lot of that had to do with the fitness routine she did often to stay in shape for her show and the fact that she simply didn't gain weight much. Her metabolism had always been rather high. She ate like someone about to face execution, stuffing her face, but never managed to put on any weight. But when she pulled some of these stacks of clothes out of her closet and laid them on her bed, she was astonished to see just how many articles of clothing she hadn't worn in ages. Some of them she'd had since before Violet had even been born.

It was sort of like seeing old friends again, and it brought a warmth to her heart, put a smile on her face. She started thumbing through old articles of clothing, tossing a few into a nearby open plastic bin she'd set out to take to the station for their annual charity drive. She started yet another pile for things she wanted to keep. Natasha was going to make good on her promise to herself this year to finally start fresh, and try and get rid of as much stuff as possible, and after a half hour or so, the bin was nearly full. She pulled yet another stack out and started a second bin after finishing the first, but at the very end of the second stack...was the sweatshirt.

It wasn't a very unique looking sweatshirt by any means. Just a normal zipper hoodie that was medium purple and had two front pockets. But Natasha stood there, staring at this thing, and moments she'd long forgotten about, moments she'd tried to forget about, came rushing back at her full force. This sweatshirt wasn't just an article of clothing.

This sweatshirt had some history.

                                                                                                   ***

They'd first found it in a thrift store.

"What do you think of this?" Stephen asked, holding up the sweatshirt on a plastic hanger. Natasha put down whatever she was looking at, tossing it aside instantly to approach this purple hoodie, and touched the fabric between her fingers.

"Oooh, it's soft," she said, "That would feel good. I wonder how warm it is on the inside."

Nat took it from the hanger and pulled it on over herself, smoothing it out after doing so, only stopping to slip her hands into the front pockets and then glancing back up at Stephen, who stood there admiring her new look.

"Well?" he asked.

"It's cozy, that's for sure. What do you think?" she asked, before adding, rather sarcastically, "I really value your opinion on my wardrobe."

"If that were true you would never have bought those shoes last week," Stephen replied, the both of them laughing now as others in the store began to look their way. She took it off and put it back on the hanger, saying it was perfect. Stephen kissed the side of her head as he tossed it into their basket of other clothes from the store, and eventually they checked out. It was cold outside, so she immediately put it on once they were back outdoors, and walking back to their car. They'd only been married for a few weeks and were still trying to save money where they could, which is why they had been shopping at a thrift store; that and the fact that Natasha simply loved thrift shopping.

Stephen preferred more high end clothing stores. Turns out, Stephen would prefer a lot of things that were the opposite of Natasha.

                                                                                            ***

"Hey," Jay said, knocking on her bedroom door and looking at her, "Any of these ready to go?"

"Huh...uh, yeah. Yeah, sorry, that first one is totally ready to go, you can load that up," Natasha said, pointing at the first tub she'd filled. Jay nodded and then walked to it, knelt down and attempted to lift it, struggling somewhat. Natasha chuckled and got up to help him. Together they carried the box down the stairs and outside to his car where they loaded it into the backseat.

"Phew, that stereotype about women having too many clothes is not a stereotype at all," Jay said, wiping his brow on his sleeve.

"You don't own many clothes?" Natasha asked him.

"Please," Jay said, taking a swig from a water bottle, "I'm a guy. All men own like approximately three halves of an outfit."

Natasha laughed as Jay got into his car and started it up. She leaned in through the passenger window and looked at him.

"So, you're gonna come back?" she asked.

"Yeah, I'm gonna drop this by the station, toss a label on it with your name, then come on back for anything else. Why? You wanna come with me?"

"...I suppose it couldn't hurt to get out of the house for a bit. I've already got a second box near completion anyway," Nat said, climbing into the passenger seat and buckling herself in as Jay pulled away from the curb and started driving. For a bit the two sat there in silence as they headed down the street, towards the station downtown. Natasha chewed her lip and thought about the sweatshirt.

"Do you ever keep stuff you got during a relationship after the relationship ends?" Natasha asked and Jay thought for a moment, adjusting the brim of his hat before responding.

"I...yeah, actually, I have. There's this cool beer glass this girl I dated got me for my birthday when we were on vacation somewhere together, and I still have that. But it's usually very small stuff that isn't really tied to the relationship proper, not something huge," Jay replied.

"What about an article of clothing?" Nat asked, and Jay shrugged, thinking.

"I...don't think so, no...I know I have a ring that my first serious girlfriend bought me back in college, but that's about it, and that's more jewelry than clothing, so," Jay said, taking a sharp turn and making Nat hold herself in place as the car lunged around a corner.

She thought back to the purple sweatshirt, and why she still had it, after all this time. Especially now that Stephen was gone, why was she keeping it? Well, there had to be a reason, after all. The sweatshirt had to have more memories attached to it than just her life with him.

                                                                                                   ***


Natasha had been completely unprepared to go to the hospital when Violet had been born, mostly because Violet was about two weeks too early, and nobody had anticipated this. When getting rushed down the stairs by Stephen, she noticed how cold it was outside, and he quickly grabbed the first jacket he saw lying draped over the couch. He pulled the purple sweatshirt on her and then helped Natasha to the car where he sped to the hospital.

Violet's premature birth was one of the reasons, they believed, she was somewhat mentally handicapped, but sitting there in her hospital bed, holding her newly born daughter in her arms, Natasha didn't care one way or the other. She simply knew she loved her no matter what, and that that would never change. On the car ride home a few days later, she wrapped Violet inside the purple sweatshirt, and held her the entire way home. Sitting there in the car, looking at her sleeping daughter in her arms, Natasha smiled and looked up at the windshield momentarily.

"...I think I want to name her Violet," Natasha said.

"Violet? I thought you liked Hailey," Stephen said, and Natasha shook her head.

"I did, I mean, I do, but I...I also like Violet. I think it's more fitting," she said, and Stephen smiled and shrugged.

"Hey, whatever you want. You want to name her Violet, we'll name her Violet," Stephen said.

Natasha looked back down at Violet nestled in the sweatshirt, and she smiled again. Violet would be bringing her years of smiles down the road, while Stephen would wind up bringing her pain and anger. He may have been the one to find the sweatshirt, but she was the one to wear it.

                                                                                                    ***

Jay parked in the station parking lot and he and Natasha got out of the car and began unloading the boxes he had with him. Together, one by one, they carried them inside the station and set them down in the spare empty office with all the other boxes that had been brought in thus far. Natasha stood there and looked at all the boxes of clothing and books and whatever else was being donated and she smiled.

"Look at all this charity," she said, "This is wonderful. I can't believe I'm shocked at peoples kindness, but I suppose in todays modern world kindness has become shocking. When hatred becomes so normalized, kindness becomes the surprise."

"Well put," Jay said, cracking open a soda and sipping it before handing it to Natasha who took a few sips herself.

"It makes me glad to see people giving things they don't need anymore to people who might need them. We're not dragons, for fucks sake, we shouldn't hoard things, you know? If you don't wear a piece of clothing anymore or you don't have a particular attachment to a book or a movie, then give it to someone who might, you know? I mean, I'm all for collecting things. I understand why people hold onto personal libraries and film collections and, hell, even pieces of clothing. But...I think Stephen leaving honestly really forced me to start looking at moving forward instead of being continually stuck in the past."

"I think that's a perfectly healthy way to live," Jay said, sitting on top of one of the clothing tubs, "honestly, I'm...admirable of your newfound viewpoints, and wish I could as easily incorporate them into my own life as you seem to have in yours. I have a lot of trouble moving on. It's nice to have some sort of guide for that."

Natasha smiled and sat beside Jay, holding his hand.

"...we should hang out more," she said, "I could really use a friend."

Jay smiled and nodded, "I couldn't agree more."

After they finished their soda, they both got up and headed back to the car so he could drive Natasha back home. Once there, he helped her pack together the second box, and then a third smaller one, they made plans to get lunch together and then Jay went along his way, leaving Natasha to herself. She spent the remainder of her afternoon doing things around the house, things she'd been somewhat neglecting to do. She filled the dishwasher, she did some laundry, some general cleaning in various rooms, and then she sat down on the couch and she looked at the purple sweatshirt. Holding it in her hands, feelings its fabric and texture against her skin, she knew what she should do with it.

                                                                                             ***

The day Stephen left, Natasha curled up on the floor of her bedroom - thankfully Violet was at school - and screamed until her lungs hurt. She wrapped herself in the purple sweatshirt as it was the only place she felt safe anymore. It held all these beautiful memories, and she needed those memories then more than ever to console her in this time of great distress. After a while, she fell asleep on the floor, her head resting against the balled up sweatshirt.

When Natasha awoke, she went downstairs, made some coffee, ate some eggs and then thought about what to do with her life. Should she even bother telling her parents her marriage had just ended, and, even worse, because her husband had run off with her own sister? God, she'd likely never see any of her family again, only because of the awkwardness that would ensure from such an event. Natasha headed back up the stairs and froze in the doorway to her bedroom, staring at the wadded up sweatshirt now sitting on the ground in front of her.

She waited a moment, then she picked it up, hung it on a hanger and placed it inside her closet, where it had remained since.

                                                                                                  ***

Violet was sitting on her bed that night, headphones on, when Natasha entered the bedroom. Violet pulled her headphones down around her neck and looked at her mom, who sat on the bed beside her. Violet turned to face her, a look of concern on her face, but Natasha smiled at her.

"How was your day?" she asked.

"It was okay," Violet said, "How was yours?"

"Same, okay. Donated a lot of boxes of old clothing to the station for the charity drive and stuff. Um, that's actually why I wanted to talk to you for a moment, if you don't mind. When I was going through some clothes, I ran into this old sweatshirt I found. It was a favorite of mine, and I brought you home from the hospital in it."

She handed the sweatshirt to Violet, who took it and immediately liked the way it felt against the skin of her fingers.She pressed it against her face and rubbed gently, making Natasha smile.

"...I was so happy that day, I couldn't even remember a life without you suddenly. Felt like I'd never even had one, really. You were born prematurely, and so we hadn't settled on a name. We'd come close on a few, but none of them ever really stuck the way we wanted them too. But then, looking down at you, the little body of my favorite person swaddled comfortable in my favorite sweatshirt, it dawned on me to call you Violet, because of the color."

Violet looked from the sweatshirt to her mom and raised an eyebrow.

"I'm named after a sweatshirt?" she asked, rather flatly, making Natasha crack up.

"Yes, I know, I know, I'm sorry," she said, "It just...it felt right. I know it isn't the most creative way to come up with a name for your newborn child, but...you were both important to me. I want you to have it now. It gave me a lot of comfort and good memories, but I think it's best if it moves on to someone who really deserves it. Who's been with it just like I have."

Natasha put her hand on Violet's face and lightly brushed her cheek.

"You are my favorite person in the whole world, and that was my favorite piece of clothing in the whole world, so it only seems right to stick you two together," Natasha said, "You won't make me upset or anything if you don't want it, I just thought I should-"

But she didn't even get to finish. Violet threw her arms around her mom and hugged her tightly. Natasha, taken somewhat by surprise by this act of physical affection, hugged her back and smiled, shutting her eyes.

It's amazing sometimes what joys and pleasures the simplest things can bring to us, she thought, and how it's our duty to pass that on to others.

Violet pulled the sweatshirt on and zipped it up, then pulled the hood up over her head and smiled, making Natasha laugh.

"Will you help me with my homework?" Violet asked.

"Of course," Natasha said.

So they sat there, the three of them, mother, daughter and sweatshirt, and did their best to keep one another afloat in a world fraught with cruelty. Sometimes, Natasha realized, she appreciated the sake of being a Simple.

"Hello," Natasha said, smiling at the camera, "Welcome to Simple Living. I'm Natasha Simple, and I'm your guide to feeling good about yourself, or at least better than you usually do. If you only feel good once a week while watching my show, then that's better than nothing I'd say. I'm happy to be of some sort of service."

Natasha sighed and leaned forward on the couch, clasping her hands and thinking.

"You know, it's an unusual week this week, because it's the annual birthday show I do," Natasha said, "and as such, today is my sisters birthday. Actually, the birthday show was created as a way to honor my sister, because, as those of you who have siblings are likely aware, having a sister is a real blessing. Sure, sometimes they can be a nuisance, but in the end its always worth it isn't it? Have you ever had a fight with a sibling? You can admit it, it happens, we all know it. Well I had many fights with my sister growing up, but we always wound up coming together again even stronger because of them."

Natasha stood up and walked around to the small table beside the couch and smelled the flowers in a vase atop it, before exhaling, smiling widely and looking back at the camera.

"...relationships are important, and all relationships have their hard times. Not everyone needs them, granted, plenty of people leading perfectly full lives without the companionship of others romantic or platonic. Some people cut off their family for being toxic, or chose their friends wisely because of poor past interactions. All completely valid things to do, honestly. There's no room for undue negativity in your life. Lord knows we get plenty of negativity we can't escape so no reason to openly invite more in if you don't have to. But I always found my relationships to be worthwhile, especially my relationship with my sister. And her birthday was always one of those special days, hence why I created an entire episode based around it."

Natasha walked across to a wall on the set and gently dusted then straightened a painting hanging somewhat askew, before sighing and looking back from the painting to the camera.

"This episode was once a loving tribute, and an open love letter itself, to the girl I so luckily got to call my sister. Someone who was always there for me, even during a fight, someone who never questioned me, even when I likely warranted questioning, someone who simply understood that being a sister meant just being there. Understanding and accepting, helping and loving. And my sister was extremely good at loving, moreso than I thought apparently, because she was so adept at it that she wound up stealing my husband."

The air in the room got sucked out as Jay gritted his teeth and stayed in focus, trying not to think about whatever Natasha was about to say or do.

"I can remember my sister hosting my wedding her own backyard. A small personal wedding, and she hosted it herself, because that's how happy she was for me. She was thrilled to see me finally find someone I wanted to settle down with. Well, to be fair, my husband and I had been together for ages by that time, but still, she always wondered if we'd ever finally tie the knot, so to speak, and she was so happy when he finally proposed that she offered to organize the shindig herself. I can't imagine that she could go from appreciating my husband to be to stealing my husband to be, but that's how it worked out I suppose. Sometimes in life crap just happens and it hurts, a LOT, but you deal with it. Now it's her birthday, and she's spending it with the man who will be my ex husband, and all I'm left with is this annual birthday episode, created for and often dedicated to my sister. The very same sister."

Natasha sighed and walked back across the stage and sat back down on the couch. She pulled her hair back and tied it into a messy bun, then cleared her throat and grinned.

"I know sibling rivalry is a thing that exists, but I think stealing your sisters husband might be taking that concept much too far, don't you? When I got pregnant with my daughter, Violet, I thought about how sad it was that she wouldn't have a sister. My husband and I never planned to have another child, we only wanted the one, and I thought about all the great things she'd be missing out on by being siblingless, but, in hindsight, perhaps I inadvertently saved her. Who can hurt you more than those who know you best, and who knows you best other than a sibling? I think that maybe my daughter got off easy in that regard, as I didn't set her up for a lifelong disappointment of having what you think is a best friend so easily become your worst enemy. I'm not even that mad at my husband, that's the sickest part. His betrayal? I'm over it. I'm mad with my sister."

Natasha leaned back on the couch and ran her hands down her blouse, straightening it.

"Men cheat. It's just a universal thing we all have accepted, terrible as it is. And, so as I don't come off as a misandrist here, plenty of women cheat too. It isn't a thing only men do, lots of women have been known to break up marriages, relationships, whatever by cheating. But it's a universal thing we all have accepted is that men generally cheat for one reason or another. Sometimes the reason is, understandably, somewhat valid. I know that may shock you to hear come out of the mouth of someone who was cheated on, but let's be honest, ending a relationship is hard and scary, and sometimes the easier thing to do for some people is just cheat, and hope that eventually that's what ends it instead of owning up to your unhappiness with one another and ending it willingly. I'm not condoning cheating, for the record, I'm just saying that there's layers to this sort of thing. But, because men cheat, it didn't come as that much of a shock to me when it happened. No, the shock came when I learned who he cheated with."

Natasha looked at the nails on her hand and took a long breath.

"And that's what hurts the most, honestly, is when someone you trust, someone you've dedicated a portion of your work to, decides to turn around and hurt you. I gave her a part of something that is from my soul, this show, and she tainted it with her cruelty. This show, which was always only ever meant to be helpful and loving and full of kindness, now has this stench of irrevocable hatred to it, and that makes me so sad. And that's the weirdest part of all is finding out what matters most to you in these sorts of times. I was upset my marriage failed, I was mad my sister hurt me, but really I'm most upset that she damaged my show forever, something that was meant to be so pure and good and now will forever be tinged by this moment."

Natasha sighed heavily and rubbed her face with her palms, clearly trying to keep her cool, before dragging the ottoman from the couch over to the edge of the stage and sitting as close to Jay's camera as she could. She smiled again and continued.

"I guess what I'm telling you is that you can absolutely do things for those you care about, those you love, even let them into your innermost personal and private projects and desires, but don't be surprised when they throw them right back in your face. And don't feel bad if you don't want to let people in because of that. There's absolutely nothing wrong with keeping what you love the most close to your heart and for your eyes only, especially if its something you made, that's important to you. I created a thing for beauty, and she, with a simple decision, turned it into a thing of ugliness. I will never forgive her for that. I started this show around the time my daughter was five or so, and it's been a very personal and important aspect of my life since then. It's almost like a second child. And I feel like the people I maybe help are my friends in a way. You obviously like me enough to take what I say to heart."

Natasha breathed heavily and wiped the tears rolling down her face before shaking her head and soldiering onward.

"And that's what makes me happy. Knowing that even without her, the birthday show still has meaning. It's a rebirth. It can be the birthday of something new now. Something better. Something she had no say or part in. Something that no longer represents her or her incredibly unspeakable act of pettiness and selfishness. Now the birthday show belongs to all of you. All my viewers, my friends, the people I've somehow managed to help, the people who might have turned to me in a time of need. This is our episode now. Your episode, and nobody can ever take that away from you."

Natasha stood up and walked over to a picture hanging on the wall behind the couch with two women in it, one of herself, and the other, presumably, of her sister. She touched it before taking it down from the wall.

"A lot of people will tell you that cutting out family members isn't right to do, but toxicity isn't specific to any one kind of person, nor is it specific to any one kind of toxicity. It comes in many shapes and sizes, many colors and forms. And you're perfectly fine if you decide you don't want your parents to know your children, or something to that effect. This photo of my sister and I on my first day of shooting has hung on this wall on this set since the day it was taken. It was meant to commemorate our bond, as sisters, as friends, and - with the addition of the birthday show - as creative partners of one kind or another. But she doesn't deserve that anymore, so let's destroy relics of the past so we can welcome icons of the future."

With that, Natasha started smashing the photo against the small table beside the couch, as Lawrence watching off set ran his hands over his face in both disbelief and incredible appreciation of her growth and acceptance of her situation. Jay shook his head and exhaled, grinning himself as he tracked her movement back across the stage.

"So if you're at home, and you wanna celebrate this new birthday show, your birthday show, dear viewer, then help me with a special birthday chant we can say. I'm thinking something along the lines of 'Dear Ashley, screw you!'. Come on, we can all shout it together at the top of our lungs! Or, if you'd prefer, substitute my sisters name for the name of a relative you personally have cut out of your life or hurt you in the past! Fuel your growth with the ashes of your burnt bridges! 3 times we'll shout it!"

With that Natasha cupped her hands around her mouth and shouted, 'Dear Ashley, screw you!' three times, each time with members of her crew joining in even, surprising her by their support. Afterwards she looked at the camera and she smiled, looking happy as can be.

"You may have taken my husband, you may have been the favorite, but you know what you'll never have? My show. MY show, and now OUR show, mine and the viewers. Let's read some birthday mail, shall we?" she asked, sitting down and beginning to open a small pile of letters on the couch beside her.

The television clicked off in a household, and Natasha's image faded from the screen, leaving only Ashley and Stephen to stare back at the now black television screen ahead of them. Stephen exhaled and ran his hands through his hair as he stood up and began to pace. Ashley chewed her lip and looked at her shoes.

"I...I didn't expect that," Stephen finally said, "That was, uh...something else."

"...I can't even blame her," Ashley said quietly, "...I really can't. What I did...what we did...was just awful. You left a daughter, not just a wife. You left a whole ass family for me."

"You'd think someone would take that as a compliment," Stephen said, sliding his hands in his pockets.

"I mean, I...I do, and I love being with you, but she's unraveling on television, and she's gaining more and more popularity. Can you imagine what might happen if someone picked her up to do a national show? She's becoming unhinged."

"I don't think she's unhinged, Ash, I think she's just extremely angry," Stephen said, "As she has every right to be."

"...I need to lay down," Ashley said, standing up and heading to the bedroom, leaving Stephen to stand there alone. He turned the television back on but put it on mute as he watched his soon to be ex-wife go through fan mail, and he sat back down on the couch. He covered his face with his hands and sighed heavily, shaking his head.

"...this is not going to end well," he said under his breath.

Violet had always found comfort in bathrooms, and with the grief she got at school, she found the school bathroom to be no less of a comforting place to escape to. Thankfully the girls bathroom was excessively clean, and usually the girls didn't hang out in it like the boys seemed to hang out in theirs. So Violet locked the stall door, sat on the toilet, covered her ears with her headphones, and listened to whatever she wanted off her phone while she ate lunch in absolute peace. Sometimes she felt bad about leaving Courtney alone for lunch, but lately she just hadn't been feeling too social.

Sitting there today, eating a plain proscuitto and cheese sandwich on french bread, sipping her drink she had on the floor next to her feet, her head calmly bobbing along to her audio piping into her ears, she couldn't have been happier or more at peace. She felt a light rumble, and she pulled one headphone off an ear and turned down the volume, then listened closely as she heard a few girls enter. It sounded like a trio. She didn't recognize their voices.

"She can try and pass herself off all she wants, with her fashion and stuff, but she isn't fooling anyone, not anyone who knows anyway," one girl said, "She's a total fraud, and she'll never be anything other than that."

"My least favorite aspect of the whole thing is that she thinks she's one of us. Not like, our friend group specifically, just...another girl at school. She's not unpopular, but she's also only popular because of that aspect of herself. It's 'cool' now, or whatever."

Violet furrowed her brow and took another bite of her sandwich, listening intently.

"Whatever, as long as she doesn't try and be our friend I don't care," the first girl said again, "And she hangs out with that retarded girl, the one whose mom has that show, and it's like what a perfect pairing honestly. Two fucking losers society puts up and panders to."

"That's not really the same, Tess, I mean, Simple can't help the way she is," the third girl said, finally chiming in, "that's just, like, something you get from birth or whatever."

"I guess that's fair," the first girl, Tess, said, sighing, "Still, don't want either of them around me, but I guess I shouldn't compare them one another. At least one isn't pretending to be something she's not. That Simple girl, she acknowledges she's dumb, and she accepts it, she doesn't try and pass herself off as anything otherwise, and I appreciate that. Nothing worse than a fake personality."

The girls finished whatever they were doing at the sink, one used a stall next to Violets, and then the three of them left. Violet pulled her legs up on the toilet lid and sat cross legged on it, finishing her lunch. She gently pulled her headphone back down over her ear and chewed for a bit, then buried her face in her arms and cried.

                                                                                                 ***

Natasha was sitting on a chair on set, reading from a script while the hustle and bustle of production resumed around her. She heard a door open and found Jay coming up on the set stage and sitting on the arm of the couch there beside her chair. Nat looked up at him and smiled, as he pulled his cap off and scratched his head, smiling back.

"Yo," she said.

"You almost ready to start again?" Jay asked.

"I think so," Natasha said, "Hey, let me ask you something, do I sound sincere to you? Like, I don't sound like I'm reading prepared lines or something, right?"

"Naw, you totally pull it off," Jay replied, "Really, I'm honestly always rather impressed, myself, cause it seems like memorizing all that kind of stuff would be difficult. I can't even be trusted to remember what I'm going to say next, let alone an entire script of things people expect me to say. So yeah, you're doin' okay."

"Thanks," Nat said, pushing her hair back behind her ear, as Jay walked off and Sharla entered the main production room, hopping up onto the stage herself and seating herself where Jay had been, the both of them watching after him as he walked back to the main camera and got behind it, adjusting settings.

"He's cute," Sharla said, "In a...weird, like a...a dating website commercial kind of way. Very non threatening, you know? You know how they always cast men wearing slacks and button down shirts and holding puppies? These are what they think women want."

"They're not wrong, I want a puppy," Nat said, making Sharla laugh; Nat finished looking through her papers and looked back at Sharla, asking, "What are you doing on my set, anyway? Did you need something?"

"No, just bored," she said, shrugging, "Are you shooting soon?"

"Yeah, as soon as I'm done looking over this stuff."

"How's your daughter doing?" Sharla asked, surprising Natasha who just shrugged and smiled.

"She seems alright these days," she said.

                                                                                            ***

Violet was - much to her mothers lack of knowledge - not alright these days, especially this day in particular. After searching the school for the remainder of lunch, she finally found Courtney in the school library where she was using one of the school computers to write a paper. Violet sat down at the computer beside her, and just stared at her until Courtney finally glanced over, smirking.

"Stop staring at me, it's creepy," Courtney said, laughing softly.

"Some girls in the bathroom were talking about you," Violet said, getting her attention.

"...about me in regards to what, exactly?" Courtney asked, turning away from the computer and fully facing Violet now.

"I don't know. They called you a fraud. They say you...um...are not like them, or something," Violet said, looking embarrassed, "I already kinda forgot, I'm sorry. I don't have good memory."

"It's okay," Courtney said, putting her hand on her friends shoulder, adding, "they're right, but you know what, I don't wanna be the kind of girls they are. I like the kind of girl I am. I'm not mean like them. I'm not judgmental, and if that makes me a fraud, then fine. I'll happily be a fraud."

Violet started chewing on her nails, a nervous habit she picked up more since her father had left, and sat there, watching Courtney turn back to the computer and keep working on her paper. As she watched, Violet racked her brain, trying to figure out how in any possible way Courtney could potentially be a "fraud" of any kind, and she simply couldn't come up with it.

The bell rang just as Courtney finished printing out her paper, and then said bye to Violet before grabbing her bag from the floor and rushing off to her next class. Violet stood up and headed towards her next class, only to be stopped by one of the girls from the bathroom.

"Hey," she said, "I'm Tess, we have history together."

"Hello, yes, I recognize you," Violet said.

"I was wondering if you wanted to skip class and come hang out with us in the girls bathroom," Tess said, "We may have been...mean to you in the past, and we'd like to make up for that. I personally would like to make up for that. We're just gonna hang out and talk."

Violet hesitated, but she'd rarely been offered a chance to fit in with her peers, so instead she nodded and silently followed Tess back to the girls bathroom. As they entered, they found one of the other girls from before already there, but the other was missing. Tess sat on the counter and pulled out a joint, lighting it up and passing it to her friend before turning her attention to Violet.

"So your mom is on TV, right?" Tess asked, and Violet nodded, still not speaking as Tess was handed her joint back, took a puff and exhaled a moment later before saying, "That's pretty cool. What kind of TV thing does she do?"

"She has her own show. She tries to help people," Violet said, suddenly extremely self conscious of how she sounded and how she spoke.

"That's pretty neat," Tess's friend said.

"She's a nice person," Violet said, making the other girls chuckle.

The door swung open and the third girl from before came in, with Courtney by her side. Violet and Courtney stopped and stared at one another momentarily, until Tess finally hopped off the counter and handed the third girl the joint.

"So," Tess said, "Violet, we know a lot of kids at school make fun of you, but we'd easily fix that if you do something for us. We want you to stop being friends with Courtney. That's it. That's all you'd have to do, and then you'd never have to worry about being harassed or made fun of again."

"But...but I like Courtney," Violet said, making Courtney crack a little smile.

"Well, Courtney doesn't belong in your life, just like she doesn't belong in the girls bathroom," Tess said, "and she doesn't deserve to hang out with girls and pretend she's one of them."

Tess was now standing in front of Courtney, staring her down, making her feel uncomfortable. Violet stepped back and watched, unsure of what to do or say. Tess's friends, though appearing to laugh lightly at the whole situation, were in fact also unsure of what to do or say. This entire thing seemed to be housed directly between Tess and Courtney.

"You're so unnecessarily cruel," Courtney muttered, and Tess laughed.

"I'm not the one playing make believe, you're the one being cruel, making a mockery of us," Tess replied, "You think you're a girl, but you're not, and you never will be. I think it's time you accepted that and stopped trying to be something you're not. You might look okay because of drugs and whatever, and your family might have enough money to make you into something you're not, but you'll never be a real woman."

Courtney looked at Violet, who looked like she was in shock, before turning and heading to leave, before Tess grabbed her around the neck and pulled her into a stall. She was laughing, cackling almost, as she pulled Courtney's head down towards an open toilet, about to submerge her head into it as her friends looked giddily onwards. Violet finally snapped out of her shock and didn't know what to do so she improvised by simply kicking Tess in the back of the legs, making her fall to her knees and let go of Courtney. Violet grabbed Courtneys arm and quickly lifted her up, the both of them making a rush for the bathroom door and once out in the hall, heading out towards the front of the school.

They rushed out onto the sidewalk and down the street. Once they'd gotten far enough away they stopped in a nearby coffee shop and seated themselves in a booth. Courtney looked at her hands, irritated her nail had broke, as Violet just sat across from her, completely dumbfounded by what she'd witnessed.

"That girl sucks so much," Courtney said, "God, someone needs to put her in her place."

"...what did she mean?" Violet finally asked, and Courtney sighed, turning to face her friend.

"Thank you for defending me," Courtney said, "I really owe you a lot. You really are a friend."

"What did she mean?" Violet asked, reiterating her question.

"...Tess and I used to be best friends, and she used to have a crush on me, back when....back before I started being Courtney," Courtney said, "I wasn't always physically a girl. I won't tell you my deadname or anything, because frankly the past is the past and it doesn't matter, but once I started being who I really am, she turned on me and she hated me with an intensity that made my heart break. She's never tried to physically attack me, but I guess it makes sense that it was only a matter of time before it finally happened."

"...you...that's what they mean when they called you a 'fraud'?" Violet asked, and Courtney nodded, almost crying.

"Please don't hate me, I'm always afraid everyone will hate me for things I never had any control over and it hurts so much to continue to lose people I care about," Courtney said, "I thought...when I befriended you, that maybe, like, you would understand me because you're different too, but not in a bad sort of way, in a perfect sort of way. That's why I guess I thought you'd be a good friend."

"...do you..." Violet started, and then finished with, "do you wanna go to my house and watch TV?"

Courtney smiled and wiped her eyes, nodding, as they stood up. Courtney bought them each some cocoa and then they headed off towards Violet's together, two outcasts who at least had eachother.

                                                                                              ***

"Sometimes it's hard to remember the things you like about yourself," Natasha said, staring at the camera, "but, it's important to make a constant daily effort to remember what's good about you. And I've always said that the best parts about myself, or anyone, is what's unique to them. Maybe we each have a specific skill we're good at, or maybe we have a visual difference that sets us apart. That's what we like about ourselves, or we should, and we should never let others turn that good thing around to be a negative."

She sighed and stood up, pacing across the stage as Jay turned the camera, following her; at home, Courtney and Violet were watching Natasha on the television while they lounged on the couch together.

"When my ex husband left, he told me that it was because I cared too much about helping others and not enough about being with him. But why is empathy a negative thing? That's the thing I'm best at, and how dare he try and make me hate what's best about me. And frankly, if that's how someone is going to try and make me feel about the best part of myself, then that's not someone I'd really care to help. So my advice for todays show is that, the next time someone tries to take the greatest part of you and make it the worst, just remember they're jealous because they don't have what you do, and that's why they want you to hate it too. Thanks for tuning in, I've been Natasha Simple, and I'll see you tomorrow. Remember to love one another, and yourself."

The camera cut off, and the "on air" light went dead as Natasha sat again on the set couch as Jay came back up on the stage and looked at her. Natasha pulled a pillow and covered her face with it, screaming into it as he stood and watched, chuckling.

"That was so schmaltzy," Natasha said, "I'm ashamed, and sickened."

"Yeah, but it was true," Jay said, "And that's what people expect of you, especially now."

Natasha pulled the pillow away and looked at him.

"Do you wanna go get something to eat with me?" she asked, and Jay shrugged.

"Sure, I don't see why not. Won't your daughter want you home though?" he asked, and Natasha laughed.

"Please, if anyone is capable of taking care of herself, it's my daughter," Natasha said, "But I suppose I should call and let her know at least."

Jay went to grab his coat and put some equipment away as Natasha pulled her cell phone out and dialed the house phone. Violet answered on the third ring, and Natasha could hear Courtney laughing in the background, and smiled at the sound.

"Hi mom," Violet said, "We saw your show. Courtney wants me to tell you thank you."

"...well tell her she's welcome, even if I don't know why," Natasha said, slightly chuckling herself now, "Anyway, I just wanted to let you know that I'll be home a bit late. I'm going to have dinner with a friend. Are you gonna be okay until I get home?"

A moment passed, as Violet looked at Courtney enjoying herself flipping through TV channels and eating right out of a box of Oreos, and then she smiled to herself and answered, "Yeah mom, we'll be okay."

"This donut is good," Natasha said, biting into the end of some fruit filled pastry of some kind, her other hand underneath it to catch whatever dripped out, "I'm surprised, I usually don't like donuts filled with stuff."

"The stuff is the best part," Violet replied, biting into her own cream filled bar, "The stuff gives it flavor, otherwise, it's just...you know...dough."

Natasha laughed as she wiped her mouth on a napkin and sipped her coffee, "Fair argument," she said, "but I think I still prefer it without. I like the dough, call me old fashioned if you must. I think it alone stands out as enjoyable without all the unnecessary extras. Sometimes a little glaze or sugar on top is nice, but I could eat just a standard regular donut with nothing in it or on it and be fine with that."

"And that's why you're weird," Violet said, the both of them laughing.

Natasha and Violet had always done this. They'd taken time off work and school respectively to spend time with one another. It was usually one day a month, but it was a nice way for them to spend time outside of the house, and their usual day to day lives as mother and daughter. Besides, outside of Courtney, Violet had no other friends except her mother, and she liked it that way. And Natasha...well, she had work friends, like Jay, but she too was ultimately on her own now that her marriage had ended, so she enjoyed spending time with her daughter and being her best friend.

Violet drank her hot chocolate and pulled her scarf up tighter around her neck, feeling cold. Winter was on its way, and she was not ready for it. She never liked winter, the coldness made her unbelievably depressed. Natasha cleared her throat and glanced around the cafe before looking back at Violet, and smiled at her.

"So what else do you want to do today?" she asked.

"I want to get some new clothes," Violet said meekly, "Can we go to a thrift store?"

"Absolutely, I could use some new shoes myself," Natasha said, "These things are about to have their soles fall out of 'em."

After the girls finished up their donuts, they bought yet another bag mixed with an odd assortment and another drink each and went along their way. Winter wasn't just on its way, it was already sort of here. Some days were colder than others, and some days were unusually bright and cheery - like the day that allowed Violet to go horseback riding - but most of the time it seemed like the weather had long since decided that cold was on the horizon and there was no stopping the inevitable.

The girls zipped their coats up and headed out into the somewhat biting cold air, walking alongside one another. Even in this sort of weather, when capable, they preferred to walk instead of drive around town. It was a real way to spend even more time together. Car rides were short, walks can extend for a period of time, and sometimes make the entire day trip last longer if you wind up window shopping and find a store you're interested enough to go inside of, which happened often for them.

"Everyone at school has fashionable winter clothes," Violet said, "but the fashionable stuff doesn't seem comfortable."

"Well of course not, it's designed to be visually pleasing, aesthetically engaging, not physically comforting," Natasha replied, "Plus they're way overpriced, so I'm glad you aren't interested in that sort of thing because frankly money is tight enough as it is."

"Don't people on TV make a lot of money?" Violet asked, stuttering a bit, blushing, embarrassed by her speech impediment.

"Yeah, if you're on a broadcast network, not public access," Natasha said, chuckling, "Maybe if I was on a hit sitcom or something, but I'm not. I'm not lounging in a bubble bath made of money drinking the tears of orphans. I'm just some loser with a TV show."

"You're not a loser, mom," Violet said.

Natasha didn't respond to this, but it almost made her cry. Violet was her biggest fan, and she knew it, and she appreciated it so very very much. She could remember back when she was just thinking of doing her show, back when Violet was still in 2nd grade.

                                                                                               ***

"So, imagine this piece of cardboard with the hole in it is a television screen, okay?" Natasha said, as she sat on the ottoman and held the cardboard in front of her face, "I'll be on television everyday, and I'll be giving advice to people on how they can make themselves happy and positive. People will tune in just to see mommy. Doesn't that sound good?"

Violet clapped from her seat on the couch, where she was sitting cross legged in a big blue oversized sweatshirt.

"And I'll make money doing it! I'll make money helping people!" Natasha said, "Helping people is good, I'd do it even without the money, but it'll be nice because the money will mean we can take care of you, and buy you toys and food and clothes. You like those things, don't you?"

Violet nodded vigorously, smiling wide. Natasha got on the floor, setting the cardboard down and crawled over to the couch where she looked up at Violet sitting there and smiled at her. She reached up and touched her little face, stroked her hair and shook her head.

"Everything I do, I do for you," Natasha said quietly, "You are my whole world. But I can be more than just a mommy, I can be of help to everyone."

Violet nodded, understanding, at least on a basic level, what she was trying to say to her. Natasha hugged her daughter and squeezed her tight, trying not to cry. All she wanted to do was put some good back into a world where she saw it dwindling away faster than she could say. This show was her best shot at making that dream come true.

                                                                                              ***

"What about these ones, mom?" Violet asked, holding up green sneakers, and Natasha shook her head.

"Nah, can't wear green, interferes with our chroma," she said, "If we need to do greenscreen and stuff my feet won't show up, which would look kinda cool and all but still, I don't like the idea of being footless."

Violet laughed and put them back on the rack. Natasha walked to the other side and started looking.

"Are you ever self conscious about the stuff you wear on TV? Do you feel afraid people will make fun of you?" Violet asked, sorting through shoes in a nearby bucket.

"Not really. I was never really a self conscious person when it came to my physical appearance. I mean, I don't wanna dress like a slob or anything, but I also don't care to wear high end fashion. I'm there to help their inner selves, not their outer selves."

Violet pulled another pair of shoes out and admired them.

"I like these," she said, "They're my size too. I'm always getting made fun of for what I wear, but I wear it cause it's comfortable."

"And I'm proud of that fact," Natasha said, "I'm happy you prefer comfort over fitting in. Fitting in is fleeting. Comfort is eternal."

Violet sat down and started pulling the shoe on, struggling with the lace. Natasha sat down beside her and pulled it up over her heel, beginning to lace it for her.

"You know why I do what I do?" she asked, and Violet chewed her lip, shaking her head; Natasha continued, "To make the world a better place. But not for anyone else, just for you. The world has gotten so cold and cruel, and I want the world to have some sort of kindness in it so that you have kindness around you. So that you don't grow up in a world where people get off being mean to one another. I know the kids at school are mean, but...you're so much better than them. You ignore them and you persevere and I'm so proud of you for that."

"It bothers me when they...when they make fun of my talking," Violet said, slurring her speech a little, wiping her mouth on her sleeve, "But that's the only thing, really. That and the nicknames. Do people get nicer when they get older?"

"That really depends on the person," Natasha said, finishing the first shoe and starting on the second now, "Some people get nastier, but often those are people who were given everything on a silver platter to begin with, so yeah, context is important for a persons behavior, but it doesn't excuse or condone it either."

Natasha finished lacing the other shoe just as a woman holding a little girl by the hand walked up to them. Natasha and Violet looked up at her, and she smiled at them.

"Hello, I don't usually do this sort of thing," she said, "But I'm a really big fan of yours and I just wanted to say, as someone who's brother is developmentally disabled, it's wonderful to see you helping mentally challenged people in public. You really are a kind person."

Nobody said a word. Natasha and Violet looked at one another, and then Violet stood up and walked away. Natasha stood up and ran her gloved hands down her coat, smoothing it out.

"Thank you," she said coldly, before going after her daughter. She found Violet in a nearby stuffed animal section, hugging a horse doll firmly, crying into its soft fur. She sighed and walked into the aisle, putting her hands on Violet's shoulder.

"...for everyone else," Violet said, "it's parenting, for you, it's charity."

"I...sweetheart, I'm so sorry," Natasha said, trying not to cry herself, "She probably doesn't even know you're my kid, all she saw was me helping someone and I'm not...I'm not trying to make excuses or anything, that was beyond messed up, but you have to know that's not how I think of you."

"I know," Violet said, squeezing the horse plush and wiping her eyes on her scarf, "...can I have this?"

"The horse?"

"Yeah. He's only 4 dollars," Violet said, and Natasha nodded, smiling warmly.

"Of course you can, you can have anything you want," she replied.

                                                                                               ***

Sitting in the teachers lounge after school, Violet sitting outside in the hall with headphones on, Natasha couldn't help but feel uncomfortable. Violet was in 7th grade by this point, and things weren't going well for her. Seemingly every day she was coming home crying, sometimes even having to be picked up halfway through the day or at a designated "safe spot" away from the other kids. So sitting there, waiting for her homeroom teacher to say something, Natasha couldn't help but brace herself for the bad news yet again. Finally the homeroom teacher, Miss Briggs, sat down and offered Natasha a cup of coffee, but she politely declined.

"We're all aware of what a hard time Violet is having-" she started, but didn't get far before Natasha interrupted her.

"If I may, she's only having a hard time because other kids are giving it to her. And it isn't something she's bringing onto herself. It's not like she just doesn't fit in, wears the wrong clothes or likes a different band than they do. They're harassing her based on something she can't control, something that everyone her whole life has told me is a 'problem'. They're harassing her because she talks a little stilted, a little funny, because she stutters and has a lisp and she has a hard time comprehending otherwise simple to you or I concepts. Not because she's 'uncool' but because she's apparently 'stupid'."

"Kids are cruel."

"Yes, but it's your job to not let them be," Natasha said, "I do my goddamned best every single day to make her feel loved and special when she comes home, and thankfully they don't seem to be doing too much damage to her self esteem, but when is enough going to be enough for you people? When someone finally hits her? When someone sexually assaults her? I can't even allow myself to think of what it might be like for her in high school if this is how middle school is. That's terrifying to me, really."

"Miss Simple-"

"And the absolute worst of it all," Natasha said, her voice finally rising with a hint of pure anger ire in it, "Is how I'm looked at somehow as a hero for 'putting up' with her. I'm not a hero, I'm not a savior, I'm just another fucking mom. We're all just fucking moms, you know? My daughter just happens to have a developmental disorder, but really, empathy is only capable for those who're smart enough to recognize it, meaning she's smarter than every single little shithead who's hurting her."

Natasha finally calmed down and picked up the cup of coffee, drinking it quickly, burning her mouth a bit. Miss Briggs sighed, somewhat surprised by this rather insightful outburst.

"You're not wrong," Miss Briggs said, "Not at all. What she may lack in learning capabilities she more than makes up for in her love for others. She's a very sweet girl, she's full of heart and goodness, no surprise seeing as she comes from someone like you-"

"That's the thing, she's NOT ME though," Natasha said, "she...she's her own person, and she shouldn't be judged on my merits. Because really, when it gets right down to it...she's a much better person than I'll ever be, even at this age. I can handle helping others through the television screen, but I...I don't know how to help my own daughter with this."

Natasha started to cry, covering her face with her hands as Miss Briggs reached across the table and held her arm.

"It's okay," she said, "We want to help you, we want to help her. We want to help you help her. And you're not wrong, she's a wonderful person who likely is smarter than all these little insecure assholes. So how do we go about working together to make sure she stays safe and happy?"

Natasha didn't know. She shook her head and exhaled loudly, pulling her hair back into a ponytail. She never had the answer, because she never expected to be in this situation. After they left the school, driving in the car, Violet pulled her headphones off and, still looking out the windshield, asked her mother something.

"...am I stupid?" she asked.

"Absolutely not," Natasha replied, "you're like a horse. Strong and intelligent in ways others can recognize. Ways that are better than they are. You're the smartest person I've ever known because you know well enough not to be mean."

Violet didn't respond, but she smiled, and she grabbed onto her moms jacket and held it the rest of the ride home.

                                                                                            ***

That night, sitting in bed, Natasha couldn't help but feel awful.

Even now, even at the age she was and how far she'd come, Violet was still getting harassed, even by strangers, even unintentionally. Natasha stood up and walked out of the bedroom, down the hall and pushed open Violets door. She was sound asleep, nestled up in her bed with her headphones on, hugging the horse plush they'd brought home from the thrift store. Natasha sat down on the side of the bed and lightly stroked her daughters hair, smiling.

Violet slowly opened her eyes and looked up at her mom, before pulling the headphones down around her neck, the sound of rain coming out of them.

"Did you know that your grandmother used to call me stupid?" Natasha asked, "...she would be very mean to me and say really hurtful things. So one day I told her that I would be nice to everyone and help them see the beauty they could cultivate within themselves."

"...and?" Violet asked, yawning.

"...and you're the same way. You're going to do amazing things for people, like you did for me. You're why I have a TV show. You're why I try my hardest. Because when you love someone enough, it makes you want to spread that feeling around so everyone can share in it. I'm sorry that woman said what she said today. She didn't mean any harm, like I said, she probably didn't even know you're my daughter."

"I know."

"She just saw me doing something nice and wanted to let me know she appreciated it, because she likes nice people. She likes me, which in turn, means she likes you, whether or not she knows you, because you are an extension of me. I mean, you're yourself too, but-"

"Mom?" Violet asked, and Natasha shut up and looked at her.

"...Yeah?"

"I love you," Violet added, and Natasha smiled, leaned in and kissed her forehead.

"I love you too sweetpea," she said, standing up and grabbing a horse plush of her own, "Mind if I borrow one for tonight? I'd feel a lot safer with something in my bed to protect me."

"My horse is your horse," Violet said.

Natasha thanked her again, turned and exited the room, shutting the door behind her. She then went back to her own bedroom, climbed back into bed and hugged the plush to her chest. She turned off the beside lamp and shut her eyes, and cried herself to sleep.

It was about 6:45 pm, and the AOPT ceremony was just beginning. The AOPT, Awards for Outstanding Public Television, was something that happened every single year, and this year, likely due to the buzz surrounding her recent public image, Natasha Simple had finally been nominated and won. But she was nowhere to be found at the ceremony, no, instead Natasha Simple was sitting in the hallway of a hospital, in her suit, looking at her watch. That's how she knew the ceremony was about to begin, after all.

She sighed and rubbed her palms on her knees, waiting to be allowed to be sent in. Violet sat down next to Natasha and tried to open a bag of snacks from the vending machine, but eventually gave it to Natasha, who happily opened it for her. Violet suffered from problems with hand eye coordination, and often struggled with seemingly simple things like this, but Natasha didn't mind doing it for her. Violet scooped some of the snacks into her palm and ate them one at a time.

"How long will we be here?" Violet asked and Natasha shrugged.

"Honestly, I thought I'd be in the room by now, so I don't have a clue," she replied, checking her watch again.

"You don't want your award?" Violet asked, and Natasha chuckled.

"I don't need an award to recognize the work I'm doing," she said, "I know what I'm accomplishing, the ones being helped by it know what I'm accomplishing it, I don't need some tiny tin statue to validate what I already know is true."

A nurse walked up to their seats and looked down at them. Violet and Natasha glanced up and Natasha smiled at her. The nurse held up her clipboard and jotted something down before looking back down at her.

"I think you can go in now," she said, "Sorry that took so long, they were still running some tests on her."

Natasha thanked the nurse, then patted Violet on the back and gave her some more money for snacks in case she wasn't finished before she ran out of her current bag. She then stood up, smoothed out her suit, pulled her hair up into a bun and then walked into the room. The hospital room was bare bones, just some medical equipment and the patient. No flowers, no cards, absolutely nothing to show that people were thinking about this poor girl. And in the bed she lay; she was maybe 14, she was pale and sickly, her eyes had large dark circles under them and her hair looked unwashed. But she did perk up a bit when Natasha came in and shut the door behind her.

"Miss Simple," the girl said, doing her best to sit upright, "You actually came."

"Well of course I came, only a jerk wouldn't come to a request like this," Natasha said, sitting on a stool at the end of the bed, probably reserved for the nurses; she continued, "You look pretty good!"

"Don't lie to me," the girl said, "We both know I look like a hot mess. I haven't been able to properly shower in weeks."

"Don't they sponge bathe you or something?" Natasha asked, folding her legs.

"I don't really like people touching me. They do it, yeah, but...I'm not comfortable with it so they don't do it very often," the girl replied.

"That's understandable, I'm quite protective of my personal space myself," Natasha said, "So, Jenna, what can I do for you today? I know you asked to see me, and here I am, fulfilling your wish, but is there anything in particular you want to talk about?"

Jenna looked at her hands and fiddled with the devices clamped to her fingers. She looked embarrassed, and Natasha couldn't understand why. After a few minutes, Jenna finally cleared her throat and looked back up at Natasha.

"I just wanted to thank you," she said, "...you raised me more than my own mother."

Natasha didn't know how to respond to this.

                                                                                            ***

Meanwhile in the hallway, Violet was putting another bill into the machine, trying to get a bag of cookies from the machine, when she felt a presence nearby. She turned to see Courtney standing there, smiling at her. Violet waited a moment, smoothed the bill out on her leg and then went back to trying to push it into the machine to be exchanged for cookies.

"Need some help?" Courtney asked, "I have crisper bills if that's the problem."

"What are you doing here?" Violet asked.

"I had a doctors appointment," Courtney said, "I'm just waiting for my dad to come back and get me. He went to get dinner while I was in the office. What are you doing here?"

"My mom is seeing some kid," Violet said, "She's sick."

"Oh, like a wish fulfillment thing?" Courtney asked, and Violet needed as she groaned in frustration and handed the dollar to Courtney, who smiled sweetly, took it and replaced it with a fresh new dollar from her pocketbook. This worked instantly, and Violet tried to open the bag before handing that to Courtney as well. She gladly opened it for her, in exchange for a single cookie.

"Why a doctors appointment?" Violet asked as they walked and ate, "Are you okay? You're not sick too, right?"

"No, I'm not sick," Courtney said, "I just have a condition I need checked on from time to time."

The girls continued down the hall and Courtney listened to Violet chewing the cookies, wondering if she should open up more about what she was dealing with. She figured, if anyone would understand, it would be Violet, being different herself. But before she could speak again, Violet started talking.

"I wish we were going to the awards show," Violet said, "But my mom says she doesn't need an award to recognize her work. I don't think she does either, but I wish she'd let people compliment her instead of denying them the option to."

Courtney smiled.

"Yeah, your mom does a lot of cool stuff, she deserves to be seen for it," Courtney said, "Course, she's seen like every single day, on the television, but you know what I mean. She should've gone to the awards show...what if we got the award for her? What if we went to the show and we picked it up in her absence?"

"...they'd probably let me, they know I'm her kid," Violet said, "...would you really go with me to do that?"

"It'd be awesome!" Courtney said, "Plus then you could score, like, major brownie points in your moms favor!"

"I don't need brownie points, she already loves me enough," Violet said, making Courtney laugh at how somewhat annoyed she'd sounded saying this, but Violet grinned and nodded, "Okay, let's do it! I know where it is, can your dad drive us?"

"Totally!"

                                                                                                  ***

"I'm sorry, I did what now?" Natasha asked, confused.

"I was homeschooled by a tutor, and everyday for lunch I would be given an hour to decompress, and one of the things I'd do every day is watch your show. My parents were never really around, and so I kind of looked to you as a guide for how to be a good person. You kinda created my morals and ethics. You taught me how to take care of myself, and be nice to others. You were around and my parents weren't, so I always felt, I don't know, kinda like you were a mom in some way. A surrogate mom."

Natasha felt herself wanting to cry for this child, who'd been all but forgotten by her own parents and instead had to turn to a woman she didn't know on a television to help provide her insight into how to grow up and love herself.

"Jenna, I...I am a mom, so maybe that's what you picked up on, but I'm so so sorry that you had to turn to someone else for guidance like that. No kid should be without their parents. I'm glad I was able to be there for you when you needed someone, but-"

"No, you don't understand," Jenna said, "You weren't just there when I needed someone. You were there all the time. You were the only adult I trusted. I looked around at all the other adults in my life and all I saw was hate and cruelty and lies. But you didn't do any of that, and instead you created self worth based on accepting who you were, not lying about who you were."

Natasha sat back on the stool and sighed. She was somewhat shocked at this admission. She knew her show helped people, she'd met many fans who had told her this, but she'd never once been face to face with a young person, a child almost, who said she'd raised them. This was something she didn't know how to approach.

"Because of you, even when I came to the hospital, and got sicker and sicker, I had you on the TV to look up to, literally because it's mounted on the ceiling, and you got me to feel happy even when I felt at my absolute worst physically. I owe you so much, Miss Simple," Jenna said, and Natasha wanted to cry.

"You don't owe me anything, this is why I do what I do," Natasha said.

She was sitting here in this room, helping this child, while her own child was out helping her, though her mother was unaware of it. Jenna went on to discuss her treatments, and how Natasha's upbeat attitude had kept her positive in the face of near certain death, and for the first time in ages, Natasha felt like she'd finally done some good again.

                                                                                                ***

Violet and Courtney were in the backseat of the car as Bryan followed the directions Violet had given him. He glanced in the rearview mirror and shook his head, exhaling.

"You're sure this alright, right?" he asked.

"I don't know," Violet said, shrugging, "But my mom never gets to feel good now, she's always helping others feel good, so I wanna do something for her instead."

Bryan smiled. Violet was a sweet kid, there was no denying that. He was impressed, and thankful that his own child had befriended someone so kind and considerate. They took a few turns, got on and off a ramp and then eventually pulled up to the building where the AOPT was being held. He looked back at the girls and gave a thumbs up, saying, "Good luck."

Courtney and Violet thanked him, knowing he'd wait for them to finish, then got out of the car and headed inside. The Inside of the building was well decorated for this event, and everyone was well dressed, the few they saw still milling about in the hub of the building anyway, as most were in the dining hall awaiting their awards. Courtney and Violet headed in that direction before being stopped by a large man in a suit with a clipboard.

"Can I help you?" he asked.

"My mom is Natasha Simple, she couldn't be here but I came to get her award for her," Violet said, and the man checked his clipboard, then nodded, and let the girls go on their way. They giggled as they headed into the dining hall area, and when they finally saw the stage where the awards were being given out, Violet really began to wonder why her mom was so hesitant towards being acknowledge for her work. Way she saw it, Natasha deserved to let herself be a little self absorbed from time to time.

                                                                                           ***

Natasha wrapped up her meeting with Jenna, promising to come visit her again, and even opted to pay for some of her medical expenses. As she stepped back out into the hallway, she leaned against the wall, covered her face with her hands and cried quietly into her palms. Natasha had never expected to have this sort of impact on someone, especially someone so young. She figured, if anyone, he words reached mass amounts of stay at home moms or divorced women, or even possibly college girls who felt lost themselves, but never someone Jenna's age. But, that didn't mean she didn't appreciate it. Jenna had needed someone, and Natasha, despite not being aware of it at the time, had been there.

After her incident with Amanda previously, even with that winding up positive at the end of it all, this had been a much more welcome situation. Certainly hampered a bit by Jenna's incredibly unfair health conditions, but welcome nonetheless simply because Natasha, for a change, felt appreciated instead of shamed.

Standing there, trying to stop crying, she heard the shuffling of feet approaching her. Natasha looked up and wiped her eyes on her sleeve, then noticed it was Violet who was standing there, holding a statue in her hands. Natasha looked at the statue for a long time, trying to process what exactly it was, until she finally looked back up at Violet's face.

"What is-"

"It's your award," Violet said, "You deserve to have it."

"How did you-" Natasha started, as Violet pushed the award into her hands, but she stopped and just smiled, then pulled Violet in slowly for a hug, and Violet happily obliged, hugging her back. Natasha rubbed her daughters back and whispered, "thank you."

"You do everything for everyone else, you should do something for yourself," Violet said.

She was right, there was no denying it. Natasha pulled away and looked Violet in the eyes.

"I don't deserve you," Natasha said, "You're a much better child than I am a mother. But thank you sweetheart, I truly appreciate it. Let's go get some dinner."

Together, the Simple girls headed out of the hospital and towards the parking lot. As they climbed into Natasha's car, talking about Jenna and how Violet had obtained the award, they couldn't help but recognize just how lucky they were to have one another, Natasha especially. She felt like the luckiest mother in the world, and she wanted to give her daughter anything she wanted in return. They went through a drive through, got their food and sat in the parking lot, making fun of the shape of the award, which was modeled after a tv set, together while they ate.

All in all, it was a good night for everyone for a change, even Jenna.

*click*

The message started again from the beginning, a womans voice speaking loud and clear from the speaker.

"You're such a selfish bitch, I hope you know that. I hope you know that you don't actually want to help anyone, you only want to hurt them, you only care about bettering your own life. You're a fraud, and I hope you die you lying sack of human feces."

The message ended, and Natasha and Jay looked up from the phone on Lawrence's desk to Lawrence seated behind it, who merely shrugged.

"What did I ever do to this woman?" Natasha asked.

"We don't know, obviously, but she's been leaving messages for weeks," Lawrence said, "And it's starting to take up all my space on my answering machine, quite frankly."

"How...I mean...what can I even do about it? If we don't know who she is, if she's not leaving a callback number...is she?" Natasha asked, and Lawrence shook his head.

"No, she's calling from a restricted number, there's nothing I can really gleam from it," Lawrence said, removing his glasses and rubbing his eyes with his palms, "But this is getting out of hand and I'm prepared to do whatever it takes to find out who she is, because this needs to be stopped."

"Why don't you just replace the phone?" Jay asked.

"Already done it," Lawrence said, "She found my new number."

"Wow, that's dedication," Jay replied quietly, clearly impressed.

"Well, I promise I'll figure it out somehow and make sure she stops bothering you," Natasha said, "I'm so so sorry about this Lawrence, you shouldn't have to deal with this kind of thing."

After the meeting concluded, Natasha and Jay exited the office and leaned against the hallway wall outside the door, just staring into space and, occasionally, at one another. Eventually, they locked eyes and exhaled. Jay slid one hand into his coat pockets and his ran his other hand through his short brown scruffy hair.

"How exactly do you plan to find this person if there's no callback number and it's a restricted line?" Jay asked.

"We won't need to find her, because I already know who it is," Natasha said, surprising Jay, continuing, "I just didn't want to openly admit that to Lawrence. She's someone who's e-mailed me and I've met on a number of occasions before. I don't know where she lives exactly, but I do know her name and with that we can find her."

"Who is this woman?" Jay asked, thoroughly confused by the whole thing.

"Her name is Amanda Keaton," Natasha said, "She used to be a fan."

                                                                                           ***

Violet was, admittedly, somewhat frightened.

Horses were large, awkwardly shaped beasts, with teeth too big for their mouths and enough strength to crush a skull under their hooves. As she cautiously pet the front of the horses nose, she began to smile a little, liking how soft the tip of their snout felt. It was like velvet, and the sensation on her skin was lovely, texture wise. She shut her eyes and continued petting, listening to the horse breath. After a few moments, Courtney came back into the stable with riding gear, and watched Violet pet the horse. When Violet opened her eyes, she spotted Courtney just standing and watching her and quickly pulled her hand away, feeling somewhat embarrassed for having been seen.

"It's okay," Courtney said, "They feel nice, I know. Here, you have to wear a helmet."

Courtney handed her a nice helmet, and Violet managed to put it on fairly easily, locking the little straps together under her chin and then readjusting the rest of it to comfortably sit upon her head. Courtney opened the stable door and led two horses out with her, Violet in tow, as they headed towards the outdoors. Once outside, Bryan was standing there, and was already on his horse, in full riding gear.

"You're gonna love this!" Bryan said cheerfully, "Riding a horse for the first time is one of the greatest experiences one can have in the outdoors. There's a reason the wild west fought so hard to not die off."

"Your mom did say this was alright, didn't she?" Courtney asked, before hesitantly handing Violet the reins to the horse she'd been petting in the barn. Violet nodded yes, and Courtney smiled as she helped her up on the horse. Sitting there, atop this mountain of a beast, feeling its weight shift beneath her, Violet felt...calm. The fire that was constantly surrounding her brain finally seemed to die down a bit, and she felt truly relaxed for the first time in her life.

Bryan clicked his teeth, then his heels on the horses sides, and the three of them were off at a slow and steady pace up into the nearby wooded area. Violet knew Courtney's family was rich, but she wasn't sure just how rich they were until this very moment. They had a forest on their property, a property which included a stable full of horses. The house itself that they lived in was rather grand in scope, with as many bathrooms as Violet's had rooms. Heading up into the woods, Violet smiled, glanced over at Courtney and knew she finally had a real friend.

It was something she'd never really felt before. All her friendships before had been nothing more than her mother begging other mothers to let their children play with Violet. But this? This was genuine. Courtney had approached Violet herself, taken the initiative upon herself to take her horseback riding, and had followed through on all her promises.

Thank goodness, too, because a real friendship with someone her own age was something Violet desperately needed at this moment in time.

                                                                                            ***

Natasha and Jay were sitting in her living room, thumbing through a phone book. Thankfully, phone books still existed, though it certainly was somewhat of an effort to successfully track one down. They were seated on her couch and Jay, using his right index finger, was running down the list of names before them, hoping to eventually land on Amanda Keaton. Problem was, when they finally found her...there was a handful of them in the city. Natasha leaned back and groaned in frustration, covering her face with a pillow.

"Hey, don't get discouraged, we'll just...drop on by to each of them and see which one is which," Jay said, "You'd recognize her, right?"

"Yeah, she sent me a photo of herself and her family once," Natasha said, somewhat muffled through the pillow, "I would recognize her. I would. Still, that's kind of a creepy way to go about things, isn't it? This is why I whitelisted myself from the phone book. I mean, if I want my privacy, why should I just roll on up and invade someone else's personal space?"

"She's invading yours!" Jay said, half laughing at the absurdity of this logic, "She's leaving you hostile semi threatening voicemails, and she sounds rather upset. I think you have every right to approach her about it, especially if she doesn't intend to stop bothering our boss, who, really, has nothing to do with any of this other than he happens to employ you. Lawrence shouldn't have to deal with that."

"No, you're right, he shouldn't, and I...I know that, I do," Natasha said, putting a bookmark in the phone book and then picking it up, tucking it under her arm and heading towards the door, "Alright, let's go find these women."

Natasha and Jay piled into her car and started driving. It took a while, almost 3 hours, but they did finally track down the right Amanda Keaton. She was standing outside, in her bathrobe, washing her car. Her hair was disheveled, like she hadn't showered in days, and she was smoking a cigarette. Once they'd tracked her down, they parked a bit a ways down the street from her home so as not to arouse her suspicion, and simply watch her from the comfort of the car. Why had this woman been doing this to her? She'd once been a fan, what had turned her against Natasha? They'd spoken several times over, so why the sudden seemingly irrational streak of hatred? Then again, it seemed lately that she was making more enemies than friends, so perhaps it wasn't all that surprising after all. After a bit, Natasha exhaled and looked at Jay.

"You want me to come with you?" he asked.

"Yeah, please, I...I don't trust I won't get hurt or something," Natasha said, and Jay nodded.

"No probs boss," Jay said, unbuckling his seatbelt, quickly following Natasha out of the car and up the street towards the driveway. When they approached, Amanda Keaton was squatting down, squeezing her sponge out into a bucket, and slowly looked up at them.

"oh," she said quietly, "it's you."

"We need to talk," Natasha said.

"Well," Amanda said, standing up and dropped the sponge fully into the bucket now, "then let's talk, I guess. What do you wanna talk about? That you destroyed my entire belief system, or that you ruined my marriage?"

"...um," Natasha mumbled, "...I guess whatever you want to start with."

This wasn't going to go well, she could tell.

                                                                                             ***

Violet and Courtney dismounted at the top of the hill, Bryan doing so shortly after them, and approached the edge. Violet had a particular fear of heights, so this made her somewhat uncomfortable, but she knew Courtney wouldn't let anything happen to her. Or at least she trusted as much, seeing as that's what friends were supposed to do, wasn't it? Help protect you? She didn't really know, as she'd never really had a real friend before. Standing there, Courtney reached into a side bag on the horse and pulled out some small carrots, which she split with Violet, and then showed her how to hand feed them to their equine friends. Bryan sat down on a nearby rock and pulled out his cell phone, checking his messages, his apps and what have you.

"They're big but they're not dangerous, not anymore so than any other animal in our day to day lives, especially if you treat them with the same love and respect as you would anyone else," Courtney said, and Violet nodded.

"Their size scares me," she stuttered, "Big things are scary."

"Big things are scary," Courtney agreed, chuckling, "I'm scared of roller coasters myself. But...you need to face those fears, or else they control you. That's what my dad says anyway."

Violet looked back at Bryan and grimaced.

"I don't have a dad anymore," she said quietly.

"I'm sorry," Courtney replied, "My mom isn't around much these days, so I know what it's like to be down a parent, even though our situations aren't exactly the same. But you have your mom, right? And isn't she like a TV star or something?"

"Or something," Violet said, smirking, making a joke, "My mom is great, and I don't miss my dad really but I do wish my family was whole. My mom can be...weird, and sometimes that makes me feel weird. But she never makes me feel weird on purpose, she's never mean to me, not like the kids at school..."

Courtney frowned a bit and leaned against a tree, folding her arms as she watched Violet continue to feed the horses.

"It...it's even worse than you think or know," she said quietly, "...I don't want to alarm you, but you're very much a target of ridicule even when you're not there. Like, they're relentlessly cruel regarding you and your state of mental health. I had to break away from the rest of them because I just couldn't take it anymore. When I was a very little kid, I was made fun of too, for something out of my control, and I would never want to do that same sort of thing to someone knowing firsthand how it feels."

"You're a nice person, Courtney," Violet said, the two of them smiling at one another, "And you have nice horses. Can we keep riding?"

"Of course!" Courtney said, instantly cheering back up and hopping back onto her horse, Violet doing the same, Bryan following their lead and guiding them down through the hills and the woods. It was the first truly nice day Violet Simple had had in ages.

                                                                                            ***

Jay and Natasha were seated on the living room couch inside Amanda Keaton's home while she brought them some coffee. The place looked like a nightmare; it wasn't rundown or dingy or anything, but there were clothes and toys everywhere, bowls with spoons or forks in them in places they shouldn't be, and overall the place had the stench of 'unkempt'. Natasha dug her nails into her knees and looked over at Jay.

"What do you say we just leave?" she asked.

"You're so afraid of confrontation that you'll just bail?" Jay asked.

"Yes, yes I am, and I would. You don't understand, I...I freeze up in this situations, man. When my husband walked out, I couldn't even argue against it. It was like a part of me understood and was willing to let it just happen. Like I deserved it or something. Now I've ruined this womans life, just like I ruined his, and both times, despite being told it's my fault, I don't know what it was that I did wrong!"

She quickly shut up once she heard Amanda Keaton coming back into the living room. She handed them each their mugs of coffee before putting a plate of biscottis down on the coffee table in front of them and sat on the arm of a chair across from the couch. For a few minutes, nobody said anything, they all sat there awkwardly sipping coffee and eating cookies like they were old friends who'd just dropped in unexpectedly. Finally, Natasha opened her mouth, catching bits of cookie that tumbled from her mouth.

"Can I rust thay..." she started, before finishing and starting again, "Can I just say one thing?"

"Which would be?" Amanda asked.

"I'm sorry. Whatever it was I did, or you feel that I did, I'm sorry," Natasha said, "I don't...I've caused a lot of problems lately, and I'm sorry if I caused you problems as well."

"You broke my beliefs, Nat," Amanda said, "I mean, I was only a fan and we'd only corresponded a few times, but...but I truly believed in all the things you ever said. You were my guiding light in this world. The voice of reason on a television so often devoid of such a thing. And then you...you just...openly admit that none of it mattered or was true, and...and you broke me. My husband, on the other hand, emboldened by your newfound set of ethics, decided to finally leave."

"...what?" Nat asked, sounding genuinely surprised at this revelation.

"Yeah, he said you were right, he said he'd been feeling that same way for a while now and that you gave him the strength he needed to turn and finally leave," Amanda said, "This is the same man who, for many years, told me I was dumb for believing anything you said instead of forming my own critical opinions."

"Wait, so, a guy who called you stupid who agreeing with someone whose ethical and moral beliefs lined up with your own then has the gall to say he too believes what she says when she starts saying something he agrees with, and you're upset he's gone?" Jay asked, "Sounds like, if anything, Nat saved you the trouble of being trapped in a marriage where you're made to feel like shit constantly."

A silence engulfed the room, and Amanda pushed her bangs from her eyes, sighing.

"I...I've thought about that, yeah, and it's...hypocritical for sure, but I didn't want my marriage to end, much less the way it did," Amanda replied.

"I didn't want mine to end either," Nat said, "but it happens when it happens. Despite feeling like a ticking time bomb, there's actually no actual countdown clock for when something will explode. It just...happens. But the thing is, I've come to learn that I'm probably better off because of it now. Way I see it, he's with my sister, and I'm single and eating chinese takeout every night in my underwear in the living room watching whatever the hell I feel like watching. I'd say, between the two of us, I made out far better than he did, which is funny considering he's the one who pushed for it."

Amanda exhaled and ran her hands fully through her dirty unwashed hair. She slumped down from the arm of the chair and into the chair proper, looking around the house.

"I must be such a cliche," she said quietly, "Husband leaves and suddenly I can't function. Except the thing is, I can function. I just...didn't want to. When you're part of a team for that long, you don't really remember how to work by yourself when they're gone. You start to think maybe you can't. I know that I can, I just chose not to. It's not like I'm neglecting my children, they're going to school every day, clean and well dressed, and I'm making dinner every night, or ordering in, and so they're well fed. It's mostly just me, and the house proper, that's suffered."

"Understandable," Jay said, "But at least you recognize it. At least you acknowledge it. At least you admit it. And at least you're willing to do it. A lot of people wouldn't, they would just give up, because their self esteem has been so worn down by the other part of their team that they no longer think they're either capable or deserving of doing better."

"Amanda," Nat said, interrupting Jay, "...I never intended to hurt anyone. I...I did what I had to for me. My whole show was about helping others, but that one time, that one moment, that one singular instance, that was for me. I hurt. I still hurt, but it's, ya know, kinda manageable now, and it'll get more and more manageable every day that passes. You want a friend? I'll be your friend. Shit knows I could use one."

Amanda laughed and sipped her coffee.

"You're alright, Simple," Amanda said, "I'm sorry for harassing you the way I was. I didn't...I just didn't know who else to put my anger out towards. Doing it at my ex would've been so generic, you know? That's been done."

"Yeah, you should always strive for originality," Jay said, the three of them beginning to crack up.

This moment, to Natasha, was a real learning experience. Not only did her actions truly have impact on those around her, but it also made her aware that she herself had the ability to create such moments, if she so chose to. Much like her daughter, she too needed a friend.

                                                                                                  ***

After Violet had been picked up, and the horses had been put away, and they had had dinner, Courtney found herself sitting in her bedroom. She was on her bed, in her pajamas, just looking through a photo album. But she wasn't looking at her mom, who was currently away on business, no. She was looking at herself. Bryan knocked on the door and came in, and she smiled at him as he sat down on the bed and ruffled her hair.

"Hey kiddo," he said, "What're you doing?"

"Nothing, just looking at pictures," Courtney said, "...dad, thanks for taking us riding."

"Hey, it was a good time," Bryan said, "You know I love riding horses. I'm just glad you two had a good time. She seems like a good kid, if a bit strange. Then again what teenager isn't, right?"

Courtney looked away, looking mildly hurt, before Bryan quickly corrected himself and touched her shoulder.

"Hey, hey, I didn't mean that like that, you know that right? I didn't mean you," he said, "you're not strange, not for that anyway."

This admittance made Courtney smirk and hug her dad.

"I love you dad," she said softly, and he squeezed her back.

"I love you too, sweetpea," he said, "now get some sleep. You have a doctors appointment tomorrow."

With that, Courtney climbed into bed, grabbed her stuffed dog and hugged it close to herself as Bryan left the room so she could lay in bed and read for a bit before going to sleep. He made his way downstairs and sat down at the enormous dining room table, burying his face in his hands. He never wanted to make her feel weird or awkward for who she was, how she was. He worked so hard at keeping her happy, making her feel loved, but he often did the same for himself. Maybe self care was a real thing he should work on after all, he thought. He stood back up and walked to the couch, plopped down and clicked on the television.

Natasha's face filled the screen, as a re-run of her show aired in front of him. He had the sound off, but the captions were on, so he could clearly understand what she was saying. She was saying something about how only you really can depend on yourself, and yourself alone, and he disagreed. He didn't want his daughter to have to only depend on herself. He wanted her to be able to depend on him as well.

But he watched nonetheless. After all, if this new kid was going to be hanging around more, he'd better start boning up on his knowledge of Natasha Simple.

He'd need it if he were going to ask her for a favor.

Natasha found herself sitting in the guest room backstage of a local talk show. She never would've expected herself to be a guest on anything, and yet, here she was. Ever since her breakdown on her own show a few weeks prior, the press had all been coming in positive, and bringing in more money to the public access station her show as a part of. She'd even been given the timeslot beside the other most popular show on the network.

She found her eyes glancing around the room, taking it all in. This was definitely more big time than she was, or likely ever would be. Suddenly her eyes drifted down to the table in front of her, filled with a snackplate that consisted almost entirely of grapes and nothing else. Natasha scoffed. Grapes? This was the best a talk show had to offer? Sure, they were only a local talk show, but still, that felt wrong.

The door opened and a young woman stuck her head in, adjusting the earpiece she had lodged into one side of her head. She smiled at Natasha and waved.

"Miss Simple? They're ready for you," she said.

Natasha stood up, brushed herself off and walked out, following the woman down the hall. This was her day, and nothing was going to ruin it. Except that wasn't true, because by the end of the day, she'd be in a lot of hot water, and all because of a single word she'd said.

                                                                                              ***

"I should ask what's wrong with you," Lawrence said, "but I'm not even sure that you know. I'm starting to think that we need to get you a doctor, a specialist, who can somehow saw open your head and inspect your brain to find out the problem, because holy shit you've created such a storm in just two weeks."

"I know. I'm sorry," Nat said, looking down at her shoes.

"Did you not know it was a family friendly talk show? Did you not know that all the women there are mothers? Did you not know that women with young children at home watch the show? Tell me what happened," Lawrence continued, sitting on his desk, folding his arms, "Cause I'm confused."

"I'm a mom too, I just...I...I guess I didn't think it was a big deal. I didn't even swear, but if I had, I swear around my daughter all the time, and she-"

"Your daughter is a teenager, she's swearing!" Lawrence said, "But show me the last 5 year old who spoke like a sailor, and then maybe you'll have an argument in your defense!"

Nat shrugged, continuing to avert her eyes from her boss as he rubbed his forehead, stood back up and paced around to the other side of his desk, seating himself behind it once more.

"I don't like being mad at you, I like you Natalie," Lawrence said, "You're...a really nice, intelligent, creative person, and I like you. But I can't ignore when someone creates a firestorm like this. I'm the president of the network, it's expected of me to punish you, or do something to show the public that you've been punished. The longer I don't do something, the more at risk that puts me, do you get that?"

"Yeah, I...I do, I understand," Natalie said, "...am I fired?"

"You're not fired, of course not. I think the fallout will blow over and be overshadowed by your good press from your show, but...I don't know what I'm gonna do."

Natalie didn't respond, and Lawrence started losing himself in paperwork. After a bit, he told her she could go, so she stood up and walked out. In the hall, Natalie leaned against the wall and cried quietly to herself. Jay stopped by and touched her arm, slightly startling her.

"Sorry," he said, "You okay?"

"...I'm an idiot," Natalie said.

"Naw, those people on the talk show are over reactionary, you're fine," Jay said, as they started walking down the hall together; he continued, "Honestly, I don't see anything wrong with what you did. They asked you a question and you answered, like an adult, to another adult, about an adult subject."

"Exactly!" Natalie said, "Thank you!"

"Who cares if their kids were watching? They're watching because their parents are watching it, and are you telling me those same kids don't hear those same words in their own household daily? Gimme a break. They're trying to relegate responsibility and shift blame to a guilty party because they don't wanna be the guilty party."

"God, see, you understand," Natalie said, "What's the big damn deal? They're gonna make me apologize. Can you believe that?"

"Well, you do represent the station," Jay said, "Much as I may agree with you, you do represent the station, so whatever you do that looks bad only looks bad on the station threefold. Makes sense to make you apologize, even if it is ridiculous."

"I guess," Nat replied, chewing her nails, "I never wanna get Lawrence hassled, so it's probably for the best."

Jay and Natasha continued to the kitchen of the office and made themselves a little snack, all the while bitching about the ridiculousness of the situation. It was nice that she had at least one friend, aside from Lawrence, around these parts, Natasha figured. Made her feel like maybe the entire world wasn't just out to get her.

                                                                                            ***

Violet was always picked up after school by her mother, but on the rare days she couldn't manage to do this, Violet found herself having to take the bus home. She hated taking the bus; it put her into extremely close contact with the kids who gave her grief, but without the sanctity of a teacher or guardian to protect her from their bullshit. Sitting on a bus seat now, listening to music and reading a book, she could hear all the kids behind her shouting and laughing behind her. She sighed and tried to drown it out, when she felt a hand on her arm, and glanced up to see Courtney.

"What are you doing on the bus?" Violet asked, pulling her headphones down somewhat.

"I saw you get on, and figured you'd be lonely," Courtney said, "But we're gonna get off at the next stop, okay? Trust me, just get off with me. It'll be worth it."

Violet certainly wasn't going to turn down the chance to escape this hormonal driven cacophony that surrounded her currently, so she nodded, agreeing to follow Courtney's lead. As the bus came to a stop, she felt Courtney tug on her arm and lead her off the bus. Courtney, belonging to the family she belonged to, wasn't stopped by the driver, and instead they walked right off and waited on the corner for a moment in a residential neighborhood Violet didn't recognize one bit. After a minute or two of waiting, Violet opened her mouth to ask a question, but Courtney, grinning widely, just pointed at a car approaching them. A very fancy car. As the car pulled over, an older man got out and looked at the girls.

"Get in," he said, "We're going to get something to eat."

"We shouldn't get in the car with strangers," Violet said and Courtney laughed.

"That's my dad!" she said, "Come on!"

Violet, this time rather reluctantly, agreed and followed Courtney into the backseat of the car. Courtney's father, Bryan, was a handsome older man. Still had a full head of hair, a slight beard shadow, and was dressed in a very nice suit. He quickly revved the card and took off down the street, far faster than Violet was admittedly comfortable with. As they sped down the road, Courtney looked at Violet, who had a face of concern, and touched her shoulder. Violet turned to face her and Courtney smiled.

"Relax," she said, "I just thought this would be better than riding the bus with those jerks."

Violet allowed herself to relax a loosen a bit. She wasn't used to being treated well by one of her peers, so her guard was constantly up, but she figured she could trust Courtney. After all, she was going to get her something to eat.

They found a nice Thai food place and all slid into the booth; Courtney and Violet on one side, her father on the other side. He made it clear they could order whatever it was they wanted, and not worry about the price. He just wanted them to eat well. Violet didn't know what a lot of this stuff was, so they had to explain it in detail to her, but eventually they settled on a dish she thought sounded somewhat appealing. After giving their order to the waitress, Bryan cupped his hands and smiled across the table at the two girls.

"Courtney tells me you like horses," he said.

"Yes," Violet said quietly, "I like horses a lot."

"She says you've never ridden a horse, and she brought up the idea of maybe the two of you going trail riding together sometime," Bryan said, "With a chaperone, of course, just because it can be dangerous at times."

"I'd like that. I've always wanted to ride a horse. I'll have to ask my mom though," Violet said, and Bryan nodded.

"Of course, no, we wouldn't want to do anything behind her back obviously. Ask your mom, see what she says and then maybe I'll call her up and we can arrange it all," Bryan said, "You'll love it. It's a very...calming experience."

Violet smiled at that sentiment. Life hadn't been very calm lately, so she liked the sound of that.

                                                                                           ***

Natasha was sitting in a waiting area at the station, prepared to make a public statement with Lawrence, when Sharla entered the room, still in her workout clothes. She smiled at Nat and took a seat beside her, biting into an apple.

"For what it's worth," Sharla said, "...I don't think what you did was dumb."

This surprised Natasha, who turned to look at her with a look of disbelief on her face.

"You? Of all people?"

"I know we haven't always gotten along, but I do think what you did was fine. These people, they're so uptight. You can't say a single thing around them that they think might hurt the children, even though half those children are going to grow up doing that very thing," Sharla said, "Had you said something actually genuinely offensive, then perhaps I'd be more inclined to agree with them, but this? This is lunacy."

"...thanks Sharla, that means a lot," Natasha said, and Sharla nodded, patting Nat on the shoulder before Jay entered and looked at them.

"He's ready for you," Jay said, and Nat sighed, stood up and pulled her hair back.

"Go get 'em tiger," Sharla said, making Nat smile as she headed out of the room, following Jay down the long hallway to the small lobby where the press and the women from the talk show Nat had dropped her offending word on were stationed. Lawrence was already standing at a small podium they'd brought there for this very occasion, holding a microphone. He turned and saw Nat, and both just sort of grimaced at one another. She stood behind him, looking at the ground, not saying a word. Lawrence turned to the crowd and cleared his throat.

"Um," he started, "My name is Lawrence Bell, and I'm the president of this station. As many already know, a personal friend and colleague, Natasha Simple, recently said something on a local talk show that has offended some people, and after some deliberation, we have decided that she should publicly apologize. Maybe then we can all let bygones be bygones and get on with our lives. Natasha is a very valued member of our station, but she does recognize when she's screwed up. That being said, she's also not too pride to admit to her mistakes and own up to them, as so. So with that, I'll let Miss Simple take the stand."

Lawrence handed Natasha the mic and backed away, now standing behind her, pushing his glasses up his nose.

"Hello," Natasha said, "As many of you know, I've recently undergone a very awful event, an event I then made public on my very own show. This is how I was invited to be on the talk show to begin with. At this talk show, I was asked a question about my situation, and I responded in a way they didn't appreciate, by dropping a word they didn't want their children to hear. This word is divorce. I only say it here to give you context. To me, the word should not be something shameful of feared, but instead embraced. I'm soon to be divorced, it's something I have to begin associating with myself. I think it's ridiculous to hide children from the realities of life, but if that's what some people want to die, lie to their kids, then who am I to say otherwise?"

"Nat, christ," Lawrence mumbled, as Sharla chuckled to herself from off to the side.

"That being said, I am going to apologize. I'm very very sorry, and if what I said made you children unhappy, if it made them ask you uncomfortable questions about marriage, then I'm sorry for that as well. I would never want to make children uncomfortable, I have a daughter myself, so I know the feeling of wanting to protect them from even the seemingly stupidest things."

Lawrence quickly grabbed the mic from her and pushed his way in front of her, looking annoyed.

"I think that clears that up," Lawrence said, cutting her off, "Any questions? Yeah, you, with the green tie."

A man in a suit with a green tie, holding a clipboard - clearly a reporter of some kind - stepped forward.

"I'm Carl Worth with the Family Values Network, and I just have to ask if Miss Simple thinks that perhaps, with her attitude towards the very concept of divorce in general, she deserved to be left?" he asked, and Lawrence gawked at him, almost in awe.

"Excuse me?" Lawrence asked, "No more questions. This conference is over."

Lawrence turned and began to walk away, then stopped and looked at Natasha, who wouldn't look at him. He gritted his teeth, turned around, walked up to the reporter and clocked him in the jaw, sending him sprawling to the ground. As people shouted and gathered around to help him up, Lawrence shook his fist and rubbed his knuckles.

"Now this conference is over," he said, before turning back, snapping his fingers for his people to follow him. In the halls, as everyone dispersed, Natasha walked briskly by his side as they headed to the kitchen so he could run his hand under some water.

"Wow," Natasha said, "I've never had my honor defended before."

"Well, as much as what they might not like what you said, I didn't appreciate what they said, so it goes both ways," Lawrence said, rubbing his hand off on a dish towel, leaning against the counter, "You may be my employee, but you're also my friend, and I won't let anyone talk about you that way no matter which you happen to be."

"...thanks Lawrence," Nat said, smiling, almost crying. Lawrence approached her and hugged her tightly, as she started crying into his shirt; she sobbed, "I didn't want it to end."

"I know you didn't, sweetheart. I'm so sorry. It wasn't your fault," Lawrence said quietly, rubbing her back.

It was the first time Natasha had really admitted that her marriage truly was over, and it felt like a huge relief off her shoulders.

                                                                                              ***

That night at home, Natasha was sitting on her bed, looking through some papers her husband had sent over that she'd been ignoring to this point, when she heard her door creak open and saw Violet standing there.

"Hi honey," Nat said, pushing her papers aside and patting her bed for Violet to come sit down.

"Can I ride a horse?" Violet asked, surprising Nat, making her chuckle.

"Uh, I guess? Why? Where'd you-"

"A girl at school asked me if I wanted to ride horses with her, she's rich and her family owns horses. They want to take me riding. Can I go?" Violet asked, coming in and sitting on the bed, "Please?"

"Of course, I think that sounds wonderful," Nat said, "Is everything else okay?"

"...I'm glad it's dad who left and not you," Violet said quietly, "I need you."

"Oh, Violet, you don't-"

"You understand me," Violet said, sounding like she was going to cry, before she crawled further up on the bed and pushed herself into her mothers lap. Natasha held her daughter and stroked her hair, rocking back and forth a bit, just taking care of her child. She'd known that her husband had never really understood, or been happy about, his daughters mental issues, but she wasn't sure if Violet had ever picked up on this. Apparently she had, and this only made Natasha hate her husband even more than she already did.

"I wanna ride a horse," Violet said softly.

"Then baby, you're gonna ride a horse," Nat said, kissing her head.

Even if they never had anyone else, the Simple girls at least had eachother, and that was more than most families had.