Regina wanted to scream.

How could she have done this? How could she have been so reckless? She was usually so careful to check through Dodie's pockets before she put the clothes in the wash, but the one time she forgot was the one time Dodie had something absolutely irreplaceable within them, something she could never forgive herself for ruining. Regina leaned against the washing machine, smoking a cigarette and just thinking. She finally picked up the cordless home phone and dialed a number.

"Hello?" Adam asked, picking up the other line.

"It's me," Regina said, "I just fucked up big time."

"What happened?" Adam asked as Regina blew smoke out in front of herself and sighed.

"I just ruined my daughters favorite photo of her father," she said softly.

A pause.

"Boy, you're havin' a bad year," Adam said, making her actually crack a smile.

                                                                         ***

"This is awkward and uncomfortable," Palmer said, standing in the bathroom of her dorm, trying to put eyeliner on; she sighed and added, "This is why I never wear eye makeup. It's almost impossible to apply and it hurts like hell."

"You're such a baby," Anita said, sitting on the toilet seat and using a curling iron to work on her hair, "This is what women do to look nice, don't you wanna look nice?"

"I'd rather not go at all, to be honest."

"Yeah, and that's part of the problem. I'm all for your introversion, believe me, I get it, but at some point you have to interact with the real world even if it's only once a year or something," Anita said, "You've been hiding out since your dad died, and again, I get why, but maybe it's time to do something else?"

"I could hide out at home instead, if that sounds more acceptable," Palmer said, making Anita laugh as she turned and looked at Anita and asked, "Where's this coming from anyway? You're, like, the most introverted person I know. You jog, for christ sakes. That's the single most introverted athletic activity one can take up! What's gotten up your butt about going out all of a sudden?"

"Because," Anita said, standing up and setting the curler down on the sink counter as she gripped Palmer's shoulders and grinned, "You can't get laid staying at home, and I do occasionally getting laid. Now hurry up."

Palmer grimaced at this statement. She knew she could easily use the virgin card to get out of this if she so chose. She knew Anita wouldn't push her on it if she told her, but she wanted to help her friend have a good night. Palmer was torn. She looked back at herself in the mirror and sighed. She'd just not talk to anyone except Anita and Arthur, that was all. She'd stick to her guns, not drink and not go home with anyone. She'd done well this far in her life, why would tonight be any different?

                                                                             ***

"I gotta admit, this is a weird date," Adam said as he sat on the couch, sifting through a box of photos of Regina's dead husband. Regina chuckled a little from her spot on the floor as she did the same.

"Well, I'm sorry, I just can't get through all of these by myself before she gets home and I need to see if I can find another one of the photos to replace the one I wrecked," Regina said, picking up her glass from the table and sipping it.

"Why'd she even have it in her pocket?" Adam asked, "Was it show and tell or something?"

"I...honestly don't know. I've never known her to do it before," Regina said.

"She must really miss him," Adam said, making Regina sigh and shove her box away from her.

"You know, you'd think that, at this point, I'd be all the more careful," she said, "you'd think having your husband die in an accident would only make you extremely cautious here on in, and yet, here I am, destroying our daughters most prized possessions in a washing machine."

"It wasn't your fault, you said it yourself you had no idea it was in there."

"Yeah, because I didn't check," Regina said, "I always check. I don't know what I was thinking this afternoon. I just...completely spaced."

"I also don't think," Adam said, picking out another handful of photos and comparing them, "that it's fair to compare your approach to life to the thing that took your husband. Why should you alter the way you experience life just because of the way he left the world? That doesn't make any sense."

Regina sighed and shook her head. She knew Adam was trying to make her feel better, to make her feel less guilty, but it wasn't really working. Dodie was already having so many problems trying to adjust to a life without her father, the last thing Regina wanted to do was make it harder for her. Remove any reminders of the father she'd once had. Regina felt sick, but Adam stood up, walked over to her and sat across from her on the floor.

"Hey," he said, "it isn't your fault, alright? These things happen. If nothing else, have her pick a photo out herself, one that she'll want to keep to remember him by. It won't be the same, but it's something."

Regina nodded, not responding. Maybe Adam was right. Maybe this was the best option she had. Adam checked his watch and sighed.

"I should get going, she's gonna be here soon," he said, but as he stood, he felt Regina's hand gripping his wrist and puling him back down to the floor; he glanced at her and asked, "Yeah? You need something?"

"Just...not yet, don't go yet," she said quietly.

So he didn't.

                                                                             ***

Palmer had never gone to parties in high school.

She'd never attended any kind of bashes, get togethers, soirees or any other kind of social activity in which her peers were not only there in number but also with the sole intention to hook up with one another, aided by the worlds greatest liar, alcohol. Standing there by the table, glass bottle of root beer in her hand, Palmer felt...out of place. Anita, however, looked exactly like she belonged here, despite coming off as far more antisocial than Palmer ever outwardly appeared. Arthur finally came back to their side after talking with a few of his classmates across the hall.

"I'm so uncomfortable with seeing classmates outside of class," Arthur said, "In high school, you saw these people for a set number of hours during the day, the week, but now it's like they're roommates and I hate having such regular contact with them."

"I know the feeling," Palmer said quietly, lifting her drink to her lips and sipping, adding, "I'm not a big fan of these meet and greet things myself. I just don't really feel all that interested in meeting anyone who isn't already a part of my social circle."

"Your social circle consists of two people," Anita said, pushing some chips from the bowl on the table into her mouth, saying while chewing, "that's not a social circle, it's like a social triangle."

"You'd have been a brilliant mathematician," Arthur said, making Palmer snort with laughter.

Arthur then spotted a professor he enjoyed speaking to, so he went off to talk with them, while Anita headed to the designated dance space, leaving Palmer all by her lonesome. She leaned against the table, folding her arms, her eyes scanning the room before dropping her sight to her shoes so nobody could mistake her for looking for companionship. She sipped her drink again and sighed, shaking her bouncy blonde hair.

"It's a sickening display of excess isn't it?" a voice asked from nearby, and she turned to see a young, lanky man standing by her at the table; he continued with, "I mean, we wait so long to be adults that as soon as we're given any kind of freedom, we immediately overdo it. This restriction is what creates addiction in the end. People wait so long to drink or whatever that they then eventually become alcoholics."

"Boy, those are some conversational skills you've got there," Palmer said, smirking.

"I'm just saying that, like, we wait to be adults because we think it'll be more fun, but all the fun that comes with being an adult seems to be hurting yourself to the point of wrecking your life," the man said, "I just...I guess I don't really understand the appeal of screwing yourself up for the future for pleasure in the immediate pleasure."

Palmer looked at him again. He had short brown hair, rectangular glasses and light stubble. He was wearing a white button down shirt with a thin black tie, and black slacks. He looked more like an office worker than a student, but he was about her age, she could tell. Either way, he was far less creepy than most of the guys she had seen that evening thus far.

"So what's your idea of a good time? Staying in, playing solitaire? Cause that was what my evening was going to be until my friend dragged me here," Palmer said.

"Actually that sounds nice, yes," the man said, holding his hand out so she shook it and he added, smiling, "I'm Eric."

"Hi Eric, Palmer."

"Actually, I'm more a Go Fish guy myself," Eric said, adjusting his glasses, "but that's just me."

Palmer laughed a little, which in turn made him laugh a little too. Maybe Anita was right. Maybe it wasn't such a bad idea to socialize now and then.

                                                                               ***

The front door opened and Dodie entered the house. She stopped in the foyer as she saw the boxes and photos strewn across the living room floor, then let her bookbag slid down to the floor as she approached the room, only to find her mother lying on the couch. Dodie shook her mom gently, who looked up at her and smiled warmly.

"Hi Doodlebug," she said.

"What is all this?" Dodie asked.

"These are photos of your dad," Regina said, "um...I was hoping you might be interested in going through these and finding a photo or two that you liked and wanted to keep for yourself."

Dodie knelt on the floor and started going through the pictures, while Regina sat upright on the couch and watched. She was genuinely terrified at telling Dodie about the ruined picture from her pants pocket, but she knew it was better to just get it out and done with than dance around the subject.

"Why would I-" Dodie started when her mother interrupted.

"Because I accidentally washed your pants with your photo in them and I'm so sorry and I didn't know and I totally understand if you never wanna talk to me again and we can find you a foster family with a better foster mom and-"

"Mom!" Dodie said loudly, laughing, "What...what photo?"

"...the...the one of your dad and you at 2nd grade bake sale, remember? He had the ducky apron on and...and I'm so so sorry, Doodlebug, I just totally forgot to check your pants before I washed them and I have been freaking out all day about this."

"Oh, that photo," Dodie said, sitting on her knees, "That's not my favorite. That was just the one I wanted to show to class for show and tell because we were talking about being embarrassed by our parents. I mean, it was a funny picture, but it wasn't my favorite."

Regina felt like the wind had been knocked out of her. She softly excused herself and stood up, picking up the house phone as she made her way to the hall bathroom and dialed Adam, who answered on the 2nd ring.

"Heyo," he said.

"You were right, you son of a bitch," Regina said.

"I appreciate vindication, but not when it comes with being sworn at, to what do I owe the pleasure?" Adam asked.

"It was for show and tell," Regina said quietly, "How do you know my kids better than I do?"

"I should know them pretty well, you talk about them all the time. You're a good mom, Reggie," Adam said, and Regina felt herself blush. How lucky she was, she felt, to have a guy in her life like Adam right now. She finished up her call in the bathroom, then went back to the living room, where she found Dodie looking at a picture.

"I like this one," Dodie said, "It's dad riding a bike. He looks young."

"That's from college," Regina said, "You can have it."

Dodie smiled and tucked the photo in her shirt pocket.

"Hey," Regina said, leaning forward on the floor, "Would you mind if a friend of mine came over for dinner? I think you'd like him."

                                                                               ***

Palmer heard her bedroom door open, and she tried to open her eyes but everything was blurry. She finally managed to get one eye open, and saw a fuzzy outline of Anita stumbling into the room, digging through a basket of clothes until she pulled something out.

"What're you doing?" Palmer asked.

"Just borrowing a sweater for a jog this morning," Anita said, "Sorry, I didn't mean to wake you up. Where'd you vanish to last night?"

That's when it all came back to Palmer. Her and Eric coming back to her dorm for a card game or two, both totally sober, both virgins. They played a couple hands of each game, and before she knew it, they were on the couch, making out. It was Palmer, actually, who'd instigated it, and who'd then insisted they go to her bedroom. She started to blush, then she looked around the room and realized she didn't see Eric, or anything belonging to a man, anywhere in her sight.

"I have to go, but we'll talk later," Anita said, pulling her headphones on and tying the sweater around her waist as she headed out to her jog.

Palmer groggily stood up, in a band t-shirt that once belonged to her father and a pair of sleep shorts. She stumbled her way to the bathroom, brushed her teeth, fixed her hair a little, then headed to the living room and kitchen area, where she found Anita leaving just as Arthur entered. He smiled as he put his backpack down on the table and looked at her.

"Good morning!" he said brightly.

"How are so goddamned chipper?" she asked, before squinting and following up with, "Hey, did you see a guy I was talking with last night? Or, like, even around here at some point?"

"No, why?" Arthur asked, walking to the fridge and pulling out an apple, biting into it.

"...no reason," Palmer said.

Had she really just given her virginity to the first nice boy she'd spent even a little bit of time with? Still, she'd been the one to suggest it, and it could've happened with someone worse. But why hadn't he stuck around? Why hadn't he said anything? She never even got his last name, for fucks sake. She sat down at the table as Arthur poured her a mug of coffee.

"So, you have fun last night? Was Anita right?" Arthur asked.

"I'm gonna fuckin' kill her," Palmer muttered.

                                                                             ***

The next morning, Dodie awoke to the smell of pancakes, something she hadn't had in ages.

As she got up that Saturday morning, and raced downstairs to the kitchen, she found instead her mother sitting at the table and drinking coffee, reading a book. Behind the stove was her mothers friend Adam, who had left the previous night but was now back. Dodie seated herself at the table and looked between them.

"Did you come over here just to cook breakfast?" Dodie asked.

"People love to help in times of loss," Adam said, "Now, do you want chocolate chips in your pancakes or not?"

Dodie waited a minute, then nodded, grinning as Adam got to work putting chocolate chips into the batter. She looked at her mom, who reached over and stroked her hair before going back to her book. Dodie pulled her knees up on the chair and hugged them to her chest as she watched Adam cook.

"You wanna see how a professional makes pancakes?" Adam asked, and motioned for her to join him, "Come on, come over here, check this out."

Dodie quickly got up and joined him at the stove, as he taught her his trade secrets of pancake making. Regina just sat at the table, occasionally glancing over and smiling to herself. For the first time in months, this house once again felt like a home.

Turns out you really can get anything at the grocery store, she thought.

The girl had never felt such an urge to scream before. She wanted to shout at God himself, but she couldn't, thanks to the rag wrapped around her head, stuffed in her mouth. She then felt fingers on her shoulder, rolling her onto her side, and saw the blonde teenage girl kneel down beside her. She smiled and pushed her hair behind her ear, her grey eyes glistening in the moonlight. The blonde sighed, looked around and gently shook her head.

"People are just so rude, aren't they? You try and be nice, like, you try to do the right things, but the right things never happen to the right people, do they? They always happen to people who don't deserve them. Politicians, movie stars, whatever. I may come from money myself, but that doesn't mean I'm self centered," the blonde teenage girl said, "after all, I mean, I spend literally all my spare time thinking about others, and how I can best hurt them. That counts as thinking about others, doesn't it?"

The girl moaned and shrugged. The blonde - who looked like she'd just stepped out of a teenage fashion magazine, dressed in the finest chic outfit one could have with perfect makeup - checked her nails and then pulled a book of matches from her coat pocket.

"It's like," she continued, "...I wish I wouldn't be seen as a bad person for doing what I do. After all, I'm just giving you your just desserts. I watched you hit that poor womans seeing eye dog and leaving it for dead in the street. You have absolutely no respect for the disabled."

The blonde pulled a match from the matchbook and struck it, smiling at the fire dancing at the tip.

"Don't worry though, because I'm gonna teach you to respect them," she said, pulling a small thing of firecrackers from her other pocket and then taping them to the side of the girls head right over her ear, before sitting back and giggling uncontrollably, adding, "see, soon you'll know what it's like to be differently abled, and you'll be able to see how hard life can be when you're not the norm."

The blonde put the match head to the firecracker fuse, patted the girl on the cheek and blew a kiss at her.

"Besides, take it from me, being the norm is boring," she said, standing up and running away. She'd picked this abandoned drive in movie lot because she knew nobody would be out here, nobody would see or hear this. She waited with almost giddy anticipation, and watched as the girl struggled to break free, to stop what was about to happen, but she was powerless. She began to sob quietly, as the blonde hopped up on the hood of her jeep and sighed, starting to file her nails.

"People are so stupid," she said to herself, "they never see when you're doing what's best for them."

The firecrackers exploded, blowing a clean hole in the girls head where her ear had once been, and making the blonde cheer a little.

You have to make your own fun as a teenager, she'd found.

                                                                          ***

A series of gentle taps on the glass window woke Jason Tulridge, and he immediately opened his eyes and realized his face was pushed up against the glass of his drivers side window. He saw the cop outside motion for him to roll his window down, so he peeled himself off the window and did as he was instructed. The cop was one that he saw fairly often; she had a nice smile, she was older than he was, but he liked that. She had deep blue eyes and curly blonde hair.

"You know you can't sleep here," she said softly.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to fall asleep here," Jason said, "uh, my...my car isn't starting."

"Oh," the cop said, "Well, I could call in a tow, get you taken to the closest body shop."

"I appreciate that, but even then I wouldn't have the cash to pay for fixing whatever's wrong with it," Jason said, running his hands through his scruffy brown bedhead and then down his face, feeling his rough stubble. He felt embarrassed, and the cop smiled politely.

"You know what I'm gonna do? You seem like a nice guy who's just having a little trouble," she said, "I'm gonna call in to my force, I'm gonna tell them to just leave you be, alright? But you gotta promise me that you're gonna work on getting your life together, getting that cash together and getting this car fixed."

"Believe me, nothing would make me happier than getting my life together," Jason said, yawning.

"Here," the cop said, reaching into her pocket and pulling out a few dollars, pushing them into his pockets and saying, "Go get yourself a cup of coffee, on me. That'll make the day better."

She smiled and then walked away from the car. Jason stuffed the cash into his coat pocket and then climbed out of the car and stretched once standing on the sidewalk. He yawned again, then headed towards the nearest cafe he knew of. Jason Tulridge's life had fallen apart, but at least he could still have coffee. The little bell over the door rang, signaling his arrival as he pushed his way in, making a handful of people stop and glance before going back to their activities. Jason hated that fucking bell. He hated when people caught notice of him. He walked to the counter and stopped, tapping his nails on it until a young woman, only a year or so younger than him, stepped up to take his order.

"Hey," she said, "You look like shit, dude."

"I feel like shit, dude," he replied, making her smirk.

Her nametag read "Fawn". She had short dark chocolate colored hair and deep green eyes. Despite being almost in her thirties, she had braces, which Jason found really cool. He rarely saw adults with braces, and it always made him feel not so weird because he himself had had them in his twenties.

"What can I get you today?" Fawn asked.

"Uh...whatever..." he said, pulling the cash out and putting it on the counter, sorting through it, "uh...this much will get me."

"I'll make it better than that, okay?" she said, taking the money and starting to throw together a drink. While he waited, Jason turned and leaned against the counter, exhaling as he glanced around at all the people in the shop.

"Look at all these yuppies," he said, "all sitting around on their laptops, their phones, not even thinking about the hardships of others. How do you stand working for all these stuck up snobs?"

"Mmm," Fawn said, putting a lid on the drink, "I just try and ignore everything, otherwise I just imagine having the power to blow their heads up with my mind."

She handed his drink across the counter and he took it, thanking her as he did. As he began to lift the cup to his lips, he noticed she'd put a little heart next to his name, and he blushed slightly. He looked back at her, and she winked at him, then went back to helping another customer. Jason walked to a booth near the back and seated himself, sipping his coffee. Things could be worse, he figured. He could not have coffee. Jason reached into his pocket and pulled out his wallet, opening it and looking at a photo of himself with a little girl, and he smiled. God what he'd give to have those days back.

The bell over the door rang again, and he looked up, just like everyone else. A blonde teenage girl, looking about 16, walked to the counter and ordered with a credit card. She was well dressed, looked posh and rich, and her hair and makeup was perfect. As she waited for her coffee, she also bought a biscotti and bit into it, chewing as she looked around the cafe, stopping when she noticed Jason. He looked back down at the photo in his wallet, ignoring her. Suddenly, however, he heard the vinyl of the booth squeak as she scooted in across from him.

"You don't mind, do you?" she asked, and he shook his head.

"No, it's fine," he said.

"You seem unusually grimy," the girl said, "Sorry, that came out rude. I'm Kelly."

She reached across the table, and he shook her hand.

"You look nice," Jason said, "I like your denim jacket."

"Oh, thanks! It's a favorite," Kelly said, "I know denim is like, so nineties, but whatever. Contrary to popular belief, the fashion industry is wrong, and decade doesn't dictate clothing. You can make anything look good, no matter how outdated, if you know what you're doing."

"You into fashion?" Jason asked, sipping his coffee as she took a bite of her cookie and chewed.

"Yeah," she said, "My dad, he owns a clothing company and my mom's a professional photographer for models for it, so I spend a lot of my time around clothing and stuff. Guess you could say I picked it up from them. What do you do?"

"Uh, survive day to day," Jason said, chuckling, "I'm...I'm living in my car. Life hasn't been...good."

"I'm sorry to hear that," Kelly said.

Jason stood up and smiled at her.

"I better get going," he said, "I need to canvas for work. Besides, you shouldn't hang out with an older guy. People might get the wrong idea."

"What's the right idea?" Kelly asked, making him chuckle as he exited. Kelly grabbed her drink from the counter, finally ready, and followed him out of the building back onto the sidewalk, where they walked side by side as she said, "You know, I could help you. I could find work for you to do. Just depends on what you're willing to do."

"At this point, damn near anything," Jason said.

"It could be mutually beneficial for us. My dad works a lot, he doesn't have time to do things for me, and I could use some help," Kelly said, "I could pay you in cash, under the table, that way you could create a little nest egg and get back on your feet."

"Uh, I...I appreciate that, I really do, but that sounds...questionable," Jason said, almost laughing nervously, "besides, you don't know anything about me. Why'd you even approach me?"

"I know you live in your car," Kelly said, making him stop in his tracks and look at her as she added, "And I know you're desperate. These are just glaringly obvious facts I've gleamed from the last few minutes. I know you're trying to get something back, judging from the way you were looking at your wallet, and I could be your way to get it back, whatever it is. I've seen you around the last few months, and I know you need the help, so help me help you."

"...who are you?" Jason asked, his voice hushed now.

"I'm Kelly Baker," she said, "and I'm the answer to your prayers, Jason."

                                                                          ***

Jason hadn't had a shower in days.

The water felt so good, but he couldn't shake the weirdness of the situation. Once he was finished, he stepped out, toweled off and found a pile of nice looking clothes sitting on the hamper in the bathroom, which he changed into. They fit perfectly, and damn if he didn't look good in them. Jason stepped out into the hall and walked down to the living area. Kelly was laying upside down on the couch, reading a magazine when she saw him.

"Wow, you look really nice when cleaned up," she said.

"This is your dads place?" he asked, "Are your parents divorced?"

"Naw, this is just his little lovenest," Kelly said, "You know, where he takes models he wants to sleep with. Not a very good husband, is he?"

"Jesus," Jason mumbled as he walked to a nearby chair and sat down, asking, "what...what is this? What are you doing right now? Why am I here?"

"You're here, Jason, because I cannot afford to get my hands dirty," Kelly said, sitting upright now, "I'm gonna let you in on a little secret, but because I'm being nice, you can't tell anyone. A few nights ago, I took a girl about my age out to an abandoned drive in theater, bound and gagged, and strapped some firecrackers to her ear."

Jason's eyes widened.

"what?" he asked softly.

"She was a bad person, Jason, she hit someones seeing eye dog, and she didn't even stop to take blame for it. So I taught her what being differently abled was like," Kelly said, "the world is full of disgusting, immoral people, a lot of them like me, a lot of them wealthy, and I wanna make it better. They deserve it. But I can't do it all myself. Some things I can't do at all. Can't buy firearms, for example."

"...what are you proposing?" Jason asked.

"I'm going to pay you a lot of money to help me kill people," Kelly said, standing up and pacing in front of him, "I'm going to get you back on your feet, but you do whatever I say whenever I say it. If I say to end someone, you do it."

"I...I can't do-"

"Cut the shit, Jason, don't try and pretend like you've grown a conscience, alright? You really willing to sit there and tell me to my face that you've never once fantasized about killing someone?" Kelly asked, "Everyone has, whether they admit to it or not. That person who keeps adding items to the belt once in line at the grocery store or maybe that person who cut you off illegally and then flipped you off, as if they weren't already in the wrong enough. Everyone thinks about it. But I'm brazen enough to do it."

"...why?" Jason asked.

"Because I'm rich, and I can," Kelly said, sitting back down and sipping her coffee, "Jason, if you help me, you will be well taken care of, and before you know it, you will have a life again. Unless you'd rather continue living in your car."

Jason scratched the back of his head. This afternoon had taken quite an unexpected turn, and he wasn't exactly sure how to deal with it. This teenage girl, Kelly, was way smarter than he'd originally pegged her for. She spoke elegantly, she was clearly well educated, but she was obviously malicious to a sickening extent. Could he really live with himself if he did what she wanted him to do? Could he stomach the things she might ask of him? And it wasn't like she was wrong. He had thought about it from time to time, in the exact ways she had described. Someone who'd wronged him just a little, making his day just a bit worse. Jason sighed and exhaled.

"...what do I need to do?" he asked.

Kelly smiled.

                                                                           ***

A young woman, skinny as a rail with piercing blue eyes and perfect, bouncy red hair, was shopping, scooting hanger after hanger holding chic clothing down the pole as she searched for something perfect. She was completely unaware of the teenage girl and the man who were watching her from just a bit down the aisle.

"Why, uh, why her?" Jason asked.

"I have my reasons," Kelly said coldly.

"And how do you plan to get away with this?" Jason asked in a hushed voice.

"Malls are notoriously well protected places, especially higher class malls, but you know what's surprising? For as much security as the inside of the mall has, the parking garage has none whatsoever. It's just endless concrete corridors full of people trusting enough to leave their cars there. There's no security cameras, there's rarely even bike cops. I've tagged her car a few weeks back, and we parked right next to her."

"Jesus you're methodical," Jason said, "Shouldn't you get a hobby like a normal teenager?"

"This is my hobby," Kelly said, "Also I kind of like stamp collecting."

"Really? I do too actually," Jason said.

"She's found something," Kelly said, "come on."

They must've watched the girl for an hour or so, before she finally checked out. Then they walked a bit behind her as she headed through the mall. She stopped at the food court, got herself a juice from a stand and then continued along her way, the whole while Jason and Kelly just far enough back to not arouse her suspicions.

"Have you ever considered going to therapy? Lord knows you could at least afford it," Jason asked.

"I was in therapy as a little girl," Kelly said.

"And?"

"The therapist requested I stop coming," Kelly said.

Jason didn't ask again.

Once they were out in the parking lot, they waited behind a pillar, watching the woman. She put her bags in the back of her convertible, then climbed inside herself. She checked her makeup and hair in the mirror, then started the car. Kelly stuffed a small burlap sack into Jason's hands and counted down. Just as the car was starting to back out, she nodded, and Jason - unsure of how this had even gotten so far - rushed out, hopping into the back of the convertible and throwing the sack around her head. Kelly then rushed up, turning the keys and shutting the car off as Jason pulled the woman out of the car and into Kellys. Kelly then turned the womans car back on momentarily, pulled it back into the parking spot fully and grabbed her shopping bags, taking them with her. She climbed into her car, started it up and pulled away.

It had all been so smooth, Jason realized, that he was amazed people didn't get kidnapped more often.

After driving a while, Kelly finally pulled into the parking lot of an old textile factory. She stopped the car, then climbed out, snapping her fingers. Jason followed like an obedient dog, pulling himself out first before pulling the woman with him. They dragged her inside the building, tied her wrists and ankles together, then pulled the sack off. Her makeup had run, and she looked terrified, but also angry as hell. When her eyes landed on Kelly, all of her looks softened.

"Kelly?" she asked.

"Hi Tanya," Kelly said, "Gosh it's been a while hasn't it?"

"Kelly what the fuck are you-"

"You don't get to talk, you talked enough," Kelly said, kneeling down and slapping tape over Tanya's mouth. She then sat cross legged on the floor in front of her and sighed, saying, "you really took my dad for all he was worth, didn't you? You know, he still thinks about you. Even after sleeping with a dozen other models, you were still his favorite, and the only he was really connected to. It wasn't bad enough to damage my family, but then you just left. That's what really pissed me off. I can't be that mad at you for sleeping with my dad, because that's half his decision, but you didn't need to hurt him like that."

Tanya looked away from Kelly and up to Jason, who was standing nearby, arms folded as he just watched quietly. Tanya then saw Kelly snapping her fingers in front of her face and she brought her eyes back to Kelly, who patted her cheek gently.

"Atta girl, pay attention," she said, "So here's how this is gonna work. You do a lot of hand modeling still, right?"

Tanya nodded.

"Perfect," Kelly said, "Because that's what we're working with. I'm gonna ask you a series of questions, and you're gonna answer them, and for every answer I don't like, my friend here's gonna cut a finger off. We'll see how well you do in the hand model industry when missing a few digits."

Kelly stood up and walked to Jason, handing him a small pair of branch trimmers, looking at him.

"You okay?" she asked, sounding genuinely concerned.

"I...I feel kinda sick, but otherwise I think I'm handling it better than expected," he said.

"Good," she said, turning back and pulling a piece of paper from her pocket and looking at it before looking at Tanya again; Kelly cleared her throat and asked, "Alright Tanya, question number one, where's my moms jade bracelet that my dad got her for their 5th anniversary?"

Tanya said something muffled, and Kelly reached down, pulling the tape off her mouth.

"Sorry," Kelly said, "I didn't catch that."

"It's in my apartment in the nightstand beside my bed," Tanya said.

"Okay," Kelly said, "Question number two, why did you think sleeping with my dad was a good idea? Wasn't it enough to be paid to be attractive?"

"He...he came onto me and-"

"And you could've said no, right? It's amazing how many options you had in the moment and which one you chose to go with. That decision really says more about you than you could ever say out loud," Kelly said, "I didn't like that answer, but I'm gonna give you another chance, okay? Why'd you think sleeping with my dad was a good idea?"

"Be...because I...I thought maybe he would get me better work if I did, and...and he...he's a really handsome and nice man, Kelly," Tanya said.

"...alright, I'll accept that," Kelly said, "Question number three...why'd you call me a spoiled slut?"

"...what?"

"Once, when you and my dad were hanging out and you didn't think I could hear you, I heard you say to a friend on the phone that I was a spoiled slut. What makes you think that's okay? First of all, it isn't my fault my parents have accumulated wealth. I had nothing to do with that. I was born into it. I don't see how that makes me spoiled. I don't ask for anything, really, except maybe my car, and as for the slut part, well, that's just downright inaccurate. I'll have you know, Tanya, that I'm still a virgin, believe it or not."

"I'm...I'm sorry, I just-"

"I mean, don't teenage girls have enough problems without women older than them putting them down? I have self image issues, I'm not perfect. I struggle with my weight sometimes, and a lot of that comes from being the daughter of a man who regularly deals with malnourished women in an industry that favors beauty over health. I didn't deserve that, so why'd you say it? Did you just say it because you thought I couldn't hear you? And what makes that okay?"

"I...I don't...I'm sorry," Tanya said, crying, "I didn't mean it, I just...we never really got along and-"

"Of course we didn't, you were sleeping with my dad," Kelly said, "What'd you expect Tanya, you think I was gonna call you mom?"

"I'm sorry! I don't know why I did it, I'm sorry!" Tanya shouted, and Kelly shook her head.

"I don't like that answer, because it's not an answer," Kelly said, whistling and walking away as Jason walked forward. Tanya started screaming as he knelt down and put the cutters around her right index finger and she could feel the sharp cutters against her skin.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, before cutting her finger off at the knuckle. Her screams were unlike anything Jason had ever heard, and they made him sick to his stomach. By the time they were finished, she'd be missing two more fingers. Afterwards, when they dropped her back off at the mall, Tanya had swore she'd stay quiet and stay away from Kelly and her dad. She'd make up some story to the hospital about her fingers. As she pulled away in her car out of the parking garage, Kelly and Jason watching her go, Kelly couldn't help but smile.

"I think she got the message," Kelly said.

"What kind of message were you trying to send?" Jason asked.

"Don't fuck with me," Kelly said flatly.

                                                                              ***

Kelly knew her father wouldn't be using his lovenest for a bit, so she let Jason stay there momentarily. She told him she'd call him the next day, before she headed home herself. When she got there, she found her mom had actually made dinner, and that she and her father were actually sitting in the living room, eating dinner and watching TV. When Kelly walked in, they shouted happily at her, asking her to join them. Kelly dumped her things on the floor and climbed onto the couch, between her parents, laying her head on her dad's shoulder.

All she wanted was her family, and nothing was going to get in the way of that.

Jason, meanwhile, spent a rather sleepless night in the lovenest. He rolled back and forth on the pull out couch. Everytime he shut his eyes he could hear Tanya's screams, he could see her fingers sitting on the floor of the textile factory, bleeding profusely. Jason finally got up and scavanged in the fridge for something to eat. He found some leftover pizza from a good nearby pizzeria, and he turned the TV on, which flickered to life instantly, on some true crime show. Jason quickly changed the channel.

He dreamed a lot that night, when he did finally crash out.

He dreamed about his daughter, he dreamed about his old life, his old job, and he dreamed about Tanya. When he awoke the next morning, it was because Kelly was in the kitchen, using the blender to make a smoothie. He looked up, groggily to see her in a tracksuit, her hair up in a ponytail.

"...you jog?" he asked.

"Need to stay in shape," Kelly said, "You look like you could use some breakfast. I brought a box of donuts and coffee. Eat, then take a shower. We have work to do."

When she exited, Jason let his head fall back on the couch's pillow and he groaned.

He was going to miss living in his car by the end of this.

Kelly did in fact jog for her health, but she was jogging for another reason. A very particular, specific route, because she was watching someone. Marking down their habits, their routines, their comings and goings. She knew the next person she wanted dealt with, and she was going to make sure she had all the information necessary before starting the job. While she was gone, Jason showered, ate, dressed and, while brushing his teeth, looked at himself in the mirror. He saw the man he used to be, before he'd lost it all, and he was happy to see that man again...

...completely unaware of just how difficult it'd be to be that man after getting involved with Kelly Baker.

"Did you find everything alright?" Adam asked, as he finished checking Regina's groceries and bagging the last of them.

"I actually did have some trouble finding something," Regina said, grinning, "Do you maybe do a personal shopper sort of situation?"

"I do, actually, do you need help taking this stuff out to your car ma'am?" Adam asked, picking up her bags as she nodded and bit her lip.

"I'd really appreciate that, yeah," she said.

Within minutes they were in the backseat of her car, parked just far enough away from the grocery store, with the windows steamed up. It all seemed like some sort of fucked up roleplay fantasy, but Regina couldn't help but like it. Afterwards, they just got dressed again and sat in the front seat of the cars, passing a joint back and forth.

"I haven't smoked pot since I was just out of college, before my daughter was born," Regina said.

"Really? That's surprising, you seem like someone who would do it a lot," Adam said.

"I probably would've, but my husband was really oddly antidrug, even for the seemingly most mundane of them," Regina said, "god, you don't think about what the person you're married to is like while you're married to them, only once they're gone - whether divorce or death - does it really hit you...all their faults and their flaws, all the little things you used to write off as oddities now become annoyances."

"You said you loved him though," Adam said.

"I did...I won't deny that, even up to his death I loved him, but," Regina stopped, tapping her nails on the window and sighing, "...I don't know. We were really really close when we were younger, but I think having children changes your romantic dynamic, and afterwards we...we were still great friends but we weren't the same as before. It's hard to explain."

Adam reached over and patted her on the thigh, smiling as he said, "Hey, you don't gotta explain anything. You can just ramble and I'll listen, it's cool."

"...thanks," Regina said, blushing, "...you know, people always say young guys are the worst, but you're pretty alright."

"That's what I like to think. Not too great, not too shabby, just pretty alright. Does wonders for my self esteem," Adam said, making them both laugh as he handed her back the joint and she took a long puff from it. They must've stayed in that car for 2 hours solid.

                                                                              ***

Sarah could only have been prouder of Dodie's efforts at her first riding show if she'd been her own daughter. Standing near the gate of the arena, watching with hands clasped tightly and the biggest smile on her face, she felt like all of her horse knowledge had been shared with this little girl, and she was so happy to have been the one to share it.

She watched Dodie tell the horse to trot, to canter, to gallop, to jump over little barriers barely off the ground. She watched her do it all with ease and realized Dodie was a better rider than even she had been at Dodie's age. As Dodie finally pulled the horse back around to the side of the arena, Sarah re-entered and helped her dismount the saddle. Once her feet were firmly planted on the ground, Sarah hugged her.

"You did so well! You're gonna be great at tonights showing!" she said, "Are you excited?"

"I guess," Dodie said, looking at her feet.

"Hey, what's wrong? This is what we've been working towards, you should be happy!"

Dodie opened her mouth, then hesitated, closing it again and just opting to shrug her shoulders instead. Sarah knew that since her father had died, she'd become much more reserved, but even still she wanted her to have some sort of joy at what she was about to accomplish. Sarah knelt in the dirt of the arena and looked up at Dodie.

"Hey," she said, "do you like to play with toys still?"

Dodie nodded.

"Well, I have a bunch of old classic horse toys, plastic figurines and stuff, and I was thinking of donating them somewhere. Would you want them?" Sarah asked.

"...are you sure you're okay with giving them away?"

"Yeah, I'm too old for them, and I'd rather they go to someone who would appreciate and use them instead of me letting them sit around in dust," Sarah said, "Come with me, we'll sit down and I'll show you some pictures of them!"

Dodie smiled and nodded, then gave the horse half a carrot and walked off excitedly with Sarah, hand in hand. Dodie was lucky. She had a big support group between her new friend at school, her horse trainer and her family. Not all children, especially when grief is involved, get that.

                                                                                ***

"Why do you have so many groceries in the house?" Palmer asked, shutting the door to the pantry.

She'd come down for the evening to see her sisters horse show, but upon inspecting the kitchen for a snack, she was beginning to have issues with the way her mother was running things. She hopped up on the counter and sat there, pushing her grey beanie up a little on her head.

"I've been having groceries delivered," Regina said as she washed some dishes.

"What, like 5 times a day?" Palmer replied, making her mother chuckle.

"It's simply easier than going out and getting them, especially with having to do double the work now considering I'm the only parent around," Regina said, shutting the faucet off and turning towards her daughter while wiping her hands on a dish towel; she furrowed her brow and asked, "Must you sit on the counter?"

"I must," Palmer said, tearing open a small bag of carrot sticks she'd foraged from the fridge and biting into one; she added, "ya know, I don't think I ever had an extracurricular activity like Dodie does with her horses. At least not one I can remember. Maybe I did and it was so awful I repressed the memory."

"That's probably not far off from the truth, actually," Regina said, surprising her daughter by hopping up on the counter and seating herself, joining her as she lit a cigarette and said, "when you were about 5, you were part of a small group at the local library called The Bookworms, and it was a handful of little girls who loved to read. But you really didn't like going, despite liking reading, because the other kids made fun of you for what you liked to read."

"...really?" Palmer asked, popping another carrot stick in her mouth and chewing, her blonde curls bouncing as she titled her head, "...why? What was I reading?"

"You insisted on reading books about mummies and ancient burial techniques," Regina said, "eventually the woman who ran the group said it'd be best for everyone if you stopped coming, since you didn't like to participate to begin with and everyone was giving you a hard time anyway. Your dad was furious."

"He was always disappointed in me."

"No, not at you, at the woman running the group," Regina said, taking a long drag and then putting it out in the ashtray sitting on the counter with them as she continued, "He said 'whose business is it what she reads so long as she enjoys reading?' and frankly, I agreed with him. The whole point was to get kids interested in literature, ANY literature. It wasn't supposed to be a popularity contest, but somehow children and their adults always turn it into one. There isn't a single goddamned aspect of childhood that hasn't been morphed in some sick way into a popularity contest of sorts."

Palmer chewed slowly, waiting for the silence between them to lessen. Outside, a truck slowly drove by, and she could hear a dog somewhere bark.

"...was that what your childhood was like?" Palmer asked quietly and her mother sighed, scratched her forehead and shrugged.

"It doesn't really matter, all that matters is that the same doesn't happen for your sister," she said, "We need to focus on keeping her away from kids who might want to hurt her."

"Why would anyone wanna hurt Dodie?"

"They wanted to hurt you," Regina said, touching her daughters face and smiling softly, "and you two are more alike than you'd think."

Regina hopped down off the counter and went back to washing dishes, leaving Palmer sitting there, very confused about the exchange that had just taken place. Maybe she'd talk to Dodie later, after the showing, see what she thought about the whole thing. She was coming to realize that talking to her sister made a hell of a lot more sense somehow than talking to their mother.

                                                                                ***

Sarah was leaning against the wall right outside the changing room, her arms folded, her hair braided; she was already in her riding outfit, and her helmet was sitting at her feet. She pulled her sleeve up and checked her watch. The show was going to start in 15 minutes, and Dodie was the 2nd person showing for dressage. She exhaled and put her hands to her head as she slid down the wall and onto the floor. Suddenly she saw a pair of feet approach her, and she looked up only to see a woman about her age standing there looking down at her.

"Can I help you?" Sarah asked.

"I'm looking for my sister," Palmer said, "She's supposed to be in this dressing room, right?"

"She is in this dressing room, but she refuses to come out," Sarah said as Palmer sat down beside her.

"What?" she asked.

"I don't know. We were looking at photos of horse toys I was going to give her, and then suddenly she just...she just said she'd get changed and once I was out of the room she locked the door and refused to open it. Maybe she'll talk to you, considering."

"Maybe," Palmer said, "...don't take it too personally, okay? Things are just weird lately."

"I'm well aware," Sarah said as she stood up and, putting her helmet on her head, began to walk away as Palmer knocked on the door. After a moment or so, it opened a crack, and Dodie peeked out of the room and up at her sister.

"Are you alone?" she asked.

"I don't think I was follow, but you never know with spies these days," Palmer said, making Dodie chuckle as she opened the door further and allowed Palmer into the room. Once inside, Dodie locked the door once more and sat down on the little chair as Palmer stood in front of her. Palmer cleared her throat, folded her arms and asked, "So what's going on?"

"...he said he'd be here," Dodie whispered.

"What?"

"...dad said he'd be here for this, and he isn't," Dodie said.

"oh."

"yeah. oh."

Palmer got on her knees and put her hands on her sisters legs.

"Hey, dad said he'd do a lot of things for me and he never did," Palmer said, "but the difference is he chose not to do those. This he didn't have a choice about. He literally physically cannot be here because he isn't here anymore. If he were, he would be here, you know that and I know that."

"...but he's not here, still," Dodie said, tears rolling down her face, "and I shouldn't be sad, I should be used to it by now and-"

"Why the hell should you be used to it by now? Dodie, he's only been gone for a few weeks," Palmer said, surprised at her sister, "for god sakes, you should never get used to a parents death. Who said you should be used to it?"

"Nobody. I just don't want people to keep worrying about me," Dodie said, "Everyone seems to think I'm in need of help all the time but I'm not. I'm not in danger. I just miss dad."

Palmer leaned in and pulled her sister into a hug. She squeezed tightly, firmly, lovingly. Dodie hugged her back. After a few minutes, they pulled away and Palmer wiped Dodie's face off with her sweater sleeve.

"You know what? Dad's not here, but I am. Mom is. That girl outside the door seems to be your friend, and we all came to watch you ride," Palmer said, "Because you're good at it, not because it's expected of us to be here, but because we believe in your skills. Dad never once told me he believed in anything I did, so I'm telling you right here and right now that I believe in you."

Dodie smiled and nodded.

"Now let's go ride some horses," Palmer said, taking her sister by the hand and helping her leave the room.

                                                                             ***

"These are awesome," Palmer said the following day, as she helped Sarah unload the horse toys from the back of her car.

"Well, they should be, they were expensive when they were new," Sarah said, "Um..."

The girls stopped on the lawn and put the boxes down. Sarah looked anxious. She fiddled with her chocolate brown braid, twirling it between her fingers and chewing on her lip.

"I'm sorry about last night," Sarah said, "I...I try to be there for her, but sometimes I'm not enough. Sometimes she needs her family, and it seems like you're a pretty good sister because you manage to help her when she needs it most."

"I like to think I'm pretty good, yeah," Palmer said, stuffing her hands in her coat pockets as they started to walk down the street a ways.

"I don't have any siblings, so, like, I guess I don't have that instinctual sisterly nature about me, but I like to think that I'm empathetic enough about people that I wanna help them, even if I don't know them, because I don't think you should have to be related to someone or even be aware of who they are to wanna help them," Sarah said, "and I know that sounds pretty damn naive but, like...I guess I'm just still young enough to foolishly believe in the kindhearted benevolence of people."

Palmer nodded, thinking to herself as they walked, the fallen leaves crunching underfoot.

"Can I ask you a question? And it may come off as weird considering we have barely spoken, but...would you wanna go somewhere with me sometime? Have, like...I don't know...dinner, or something?" Sarah asked, making Palmer stop in her tracks.

"...uh...like a date?"

"I...I guess."

"I'm not...I'm not into girls," Palmer said.

"Oh," Sarah replied, blushing and looking back down at her feet, "oh god I'm embarrassed, I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to make things awkward."

"No I appreciate it, believe me, it's flattering," Palmer said, making Sarah blush again as Palmer waited a moment and then said, "I mean...I guess I don't know for sure, since I've never tried it, but, like...shouldn't that knowledge be innate?"

"Not necessarily," Sarah said, "but forget I asked, I'm sorry. I should get going."

Sarah turned and walked briskly back to her car, just as Palmer caught up behind her, grabbing her wrist and, uncapping a pen between her teeth, wrote her dorm phone number on it. Sarah looked at the number and then at Palmer, who shrugged.

"College is all about new experiences, right?" she asked, "I should be more open minded."

Sarah almost wanted to die from embarrassment, but instead she stuttered, then got into her car and drove away, leaving Palmer to pick up the boxes of horse toys and carry them into the house. From the upstairs bedroom window, unaware to Palmer, her mother was on the phone.

"My daughter just gave her phone number to my other daughters horse trainer," she said, sipping wine, "...anyway, can I see you tonight? She's here to babysit overnight, so I could sneak away for a bit."

"That sounds good," Adam said on the other end of the line, "Meet me outside the store, we'll do something fun."

Palmer hoisted the boxes up the stairs all by herself and then dragged them into Dodie's bedroom. Once inside, Dodie slid off her bed and onto the floor, where her sister collapsed to her knees, exhausted. Dodie tore open the box tops and started pulling the plastic horses out one by one.

"God...I am so out of shape despite being so young," Palmer said.

"Will you stay and play horses with me?" Dodie asked.

Palmer looked at her sister, and realized she could do for her what their father couldn't. She could be there right now, invested in her interest.

"Sure, but I get to be the paint," Palmer said.

This was the first time since the funeral that Palmer had returned to the house. Standing in the kitchen with her mother, while she piled through plastic container of food after plastic container of food from the fridge to the counter, Palmer couldn't help but feel good about being here. Life at school had felt rough these last few weeks, and she was happy to be around her mom again.

"Where the hell did all this food come from?" Palmer asked as she sipped her tea.

"Neighbors, friends, accquaintances. These people come out of the woodwork when someone dies and bestow a litany of meals upon you. I was thinking of just reheating a lot of it and having a sort of open table of food we could pick at all night," Regina said, plopping yet another container on the counter.

"Okay," Palmer said, shrugging, "that sounds like a good idea."

"You okay honey?"

"I'm alright. Yeah. I've been jogging with a friend at school lately, and that's been a nice change of pace," Palmer said, "how about you and Dodie?"

"She's been...reclusive. I don't know. I've been writing things down in a journal at night and that seems to help, but Dodie doesn't seem to want to talk or have anything to do with me," Regina said, "I just...I wish I could reach her the way your father could. I don't know why they had such a close relationship, but I wish I could get to that same point."

"It's gonna take some time, but I'm sure she'll come around," Palmer said as she sat at the table and watched her mother open each tupperware.

"Maybe," Regina said, "...this looks atrocious. If you can't cook, at least have the decency to give me take out for god sakes. My husband just died. Haven't I suffered enough?"

Palmer laughed, almost spitting her drink out, which made her mom smile. Palmer had always found her mother funny, but ever since her father had died, she'd found her mother even funnier, almost like she'd been holding back in his presence or something. Whatever the case was, Palmer was enjoying it.

                                                                            ***

Dodie and Nona were sitting on the swings at the local park, with Nona's parents sitting nearby, both reading a magazine together as the girls played.

"You've never had a sleepover?" Nona asked, "I mean...I guess I haven't either, but still. I could come spend the night at your house! We could watch movies and play games and stuff."

"I don't know, I don't know if my mom wants people around right now," Dodie said, swinging gently, "but she is trying to get rid of all the food people gave us at the wake, so maybe she would appreciate having someone else there to help eat it."

"Is it good food?"

"I don't know," Dodie said.

"Why did people give you food?" Nona asked.

"I...don't know," Dodie said, furrowing her brow, now confused.

Why had people given them food, and in such mass quantities? Oh well, made things easier on her mom. Regina hadn't had to cook an actual dinner for weeks. They either ordered food somewhere or ate leftovers from what was brought to the wake.

"I don't think tonight is a good night, but maybe tomorrow night? At your house?" Dodie asked, and Nona smiled.

"Okay!"

The girls continued to swing in silence as the cool fall air breezed by them. Now all Dodie could think about was the mountains and mountains and food that had been brought and left in their kitchen. Why did people bring so much food? It didn't make any sense to her. And why did her mother feel so obligated to use it all? Not all of it was even that good.

Maybe she'd ask her at dinner.

                                                                              ***

"What even is this?" Palmer asked, opening a lid ever so slightly and then making a hideous face at the repellent smell that seeped out of the container as she gently pushed it away from her across the table.

"I think they thought it was lemon chicken," Regina said, making Palmer chuckle again.

"I'm not a very religious person," Palmer said, "but that thing is an outright sin."

Regina laughed and sat down at the table with Palmer. She opened up a container and she sounded relieved upon seeing what appeared to be spaghetti inside. No way to screw that up, she figured. So she took a fork and start eating. The front door opened, and Dodie waddled inside, unzipping her jacket as she waved goodbye out the door to Nona in her parents car. Dodie seated herself at the table with her mother and sister and looked at the container of lemon chicken.

"What is this?" she asked, pulling it towards her, lifting the lid.

"Don't open it," Palmer said.

"Oh my god," Dodie mumbled as she made the same disgusted face and pushed the container away once again.

"I told you," Palmer said, the girls laughing.

"Mom, why did people give us so much food?" Dodie asked.

"Well, they see it as making my life easier. They bring food because they think it'll help. I've just lost my husband, you girls just lost your father. The last thing anyone wants to do is cook, right? They feel like this eases our lives somewhat. But...it really doesn't. If anything it just complicates things, because now I have half a pile of tupperware full of disgusting home cooked garbage that I can't eat, but feel too guilty to throw away. The only thing that would make things easier would..."

Regina paused for a moment, clearly trying not to cry in front of her daughters. Palmer and Dodie glanced at one another, concerned.

"The only thing that would make things easier would be to have your father back," Regina finished, "to have things just be like they were. But that isn't life. Life is messy and awful and terribly sad. But at least you girls are here. Not just to give me emotional support, but also to help me eat all this crap."

Palmer and Dodie cracked up, and then dug in.

                                                                           ***

"What is this?" Anita asked as she slid the container from the fridge in the dorm and opened the corner of the lid, then made a face and shoved it back into the fridge.

"I wanna say it's a science experiment, but I'm also leaning towards an act against God," Palmer said, making Anita laugh as she wiped the stench away from her face.

"Girl, you ain't kiddin'," she said as she walked over to the table and sat down with her.

Palmer offered to take some of the food off her mothers hands by taking it back to the dorm with her. This way it wouldn't go to waste, and she'd have meals to eat each day. Anita pushed her bangs from her eyes and looked at Palmer.

"So, I was gonna go out with some friends from another college tonight," Anita said, checking her nails as she chewed on them absent mindedly, "and I thought you might wanna come. We're gonna go to a really nice restaurant, plus one of the guys is someone I think you'd really like."

"That's nice of you, but I don't think so," Palmer said, "I think I'd prefer to eat what I brought back."

"Seriously?" Anita asked, "you'd rather eat The Dinner From The Black Lagoon than have a four star meal?"

"Yes," Palmer said, chuckling and nodding, "yes I would. I can't explain it but...it's like...ever since my dad died, I've been both trying to distance myself from him while getting as close to him as possible, if that makes sense? Eating this food, unholy as it may be, makes it feel like he's still here, kind of. It's hard to explain."

Anita nodded and patted her on the arm. She knew she didn't need to explain anything, and she knew Anita wouldn't ask any further. That was the thing she truly appreciated about their friendship, was how much the other one just understood. Anita got herself ready, said goodbye and headed out. While Palmer studied, she ate one of the containers - a chicken cheese dish - and kept studying until Arthur suddenly showed up to the dorm. He let himself in and sat down at the table, looking at the food.

"What in god's name are you eating?" he asked.

"Trust me, god's got nothin' to do with it," she replied, mouth half full.

                                                                              ***

Dodie was thrilled the following evening when she went to Nona's for a sleepover, and she wasn't forced to eat leftovers. Her parents made a meal together, featuring a roast and potatoes and broccoli, and it was the best thing Dodie had remembered eating in what felt like months. After dinner, the girls sat in the entertainment room under a pillow fort and ate ice cream sandwiches while watching The Little Mermaid.

"Your parents like to do things together," Dodie finally said quietly.

"Mhm," Nona replied, nodding, "they like doing things as a team."

"I don't think my mom and dad were ever like that," Dodie said, "I mean, they loved eachother, but...but I never saw them do anything together. Gardening, maybe, but that's it."

"...what's it like to not have a dad?" Nona asked, "I'm sorry, I shouldn't-"

"It's okay," Dodie said, "um...it's weird. I feel...less safe. Having a daddy made me feel safe, and now that he's not around, the world feels scarier. I know my mom takes good care of us, and she'd do anything to protect us, but...I really miss him."

"I would be so unhappy if my dad died," Nona whispered, looking at her remaining ice cream sandwich, "I'm sorry that happened to you."

"It's okay," Dodie said, "I mean...it's not okay, but you know. Thanks. Sorry I'm not very good at being friends with someone. I've never really had any besides my sister and my parents."

Nona smiled.

"Well, we'll get better at it together then!" she said.

Ice cream sandwiches, real friendship and no awful leftovers. What a good night this turned out to be.

                                                                             ***

Palmer and Arthur laid on the couch together, watching an old black and white movie on mute, while they ate out of the containers Palmer had brought back.

"This is not the devils work," Arthur said while chewing, "the devil may be evil but even he wouldn't do this to people."

"Heh," Palmer said, "well, if it helps, I gave you the worst possible one because I didn't want it myself."

"Glad to be of service. So what are you doing in on a weekend?" Arthur asked.

"I don't know," Palmer replied, shrugging, "Anita asked if I wanted to go out with her and some friends, she wanted to introduce me to some guy, but honestly I just...I don't really like socializing. I like things the way they are, just you and me, and sometimes her, and awful awful food."

"Maybe it's grief," Arthur said, "Sometimes when someone close to someone dies, the surviving person deals with grief by detaching themselves from everything else. Isolating. They're scared to lose anyone else, so they figure they'll just go through life on their own."

"But I'm not on my own, I have you two," Palmer said.

"Sure, but...Palmer we're in college and neither one of us is living like it," Arthur said, "What if I went with you? Do you just not wanna be paired up with some weird dude?"

"Mostly," Palmer said, "...I guess it'd be okay. We're about out of food here anyway now."

"Thank the lord for that," Arthur said under his breath, "Well, get your jacket on and let's go meet Anita and her friends. We need to start behaving like college kids. No more sitting around by ourselves anymore."

"I thought you liked sitting around with just me for company," Palmer said, sitting up as Arthur stood and started to pull on his jacket.

"I do, sure, but aren't you the least bit curious what it is other college kids do?" he asked.

"Not particularly," she replied, standing up and taking their containers to the kitchen, filling them with water and leaving them to soak in the sink; she leaned on the counter and sighed, "I appreciate it, Arthur, I really do, but I don't wanna be around anyone else right now. I like how things are. I'm not, I guess, happy or whatever, but...I'm as comfortable as one can be given my particular circumstances."

Arthur approached her as she started to sniffle and wipe her eyes on her sweater sleeve.

"...I'm here, I'll stay with you," he said, opening his arms as she fell into his chest, hugging eachother. Palmer was so appreciative of Arthur's friendship, and she rarely thanked him for it. She felt guilty. But she knew that, if the situation were reversed, she'd be there for him too. She knew she had friends she could depend on, and she knew Dodie had made a friend at school, but she felt bad for their mother...

...how did she handle being all alone after so many years of matrimony?

                                                                             ***

"I do feel sad," Regina said as she sat on her bed that night, wine glass in hand as she looked at photos of her husband, "I do, I'm not heartless, but I'm also grateful. We'd been growing apart, we both knew it, and neither one of us wanted to admit it. Something was going to have to change. I think we were sticking it out so Dodie could have a good home life, and we were still friends, but the romance was gone. He was someone else entirely."

The man sitting on the bed across from her ran his hands through his thick chocolate brown hair and sipped from his wine glass. He was at least ten years younger than her, and worked at the local grocery store.

"I'm glad you could come over, this is the first night I've been actually alone in years," Regina said.

"No problem," Adam said, "And I brought you some groceries, to replace all that atrocious garbage in your fridge. Those people should be ashamed of themselves."

"This isn't weird, right?" Regina asked, "I'm...I am so not used to this."

"Naw, it's not weird," Adam said, "I mean, the whole situation is a little weird, sure, but that's just because that's what death is like, it's weird and it makes things weird, but...hey...what you're doing, what we're doing, ain't weird."

Regina smiled as the candlelight danced across her face. She'd never considered being with anyone other than her husband, but she was thankful for a fresh start of sorts. She leaned in and kissed Adam, who happily kissed her back, as she pushed him onto his back and climbed on top of him, taking his wine glass and setting them both on the floor beside the bed.

"You sure you're cool with this?" he asked again.

"Yeah, I'm cool with it, you just can't be here when my daughter comes home tomorrow," she whispered, "now shut up."

And with that she put out the candlelight.

Dodie was sitting in her bedroom on her bed, trying to do her homework, but she was finding she was having a harder and harder time even getting started. Essay homework was never her strong suit, and in this case specifically she just wasn't exactly sure what to put down. The door to the room opened and her mother peered in, making Dodie look up at her.

"Hey Doodlebug," Regina said, "still doing homework?"

"I didn't used to have to do essays," Dodie whined.

"I know, things were easier in lower grades, but that's all part of growing up," Regina said, smiling as she entered and sat down on the bed beside her daughter.

"Maybe I should rethink this whole growing up thing," Dodie mumbled, making her mother laugh.

"Well, do you need some help? What's the essay question?" Regina asked.

"I'm supposed to write about the person I most admire," Dodie said, "but I can't think of how to do it."

"Having a hard time picking someone?" Regina asked, and Dodie shook her head, her braids swinging.

"No, I know who I'm choosing, I just don't know how to explain why," Dodie said.

                                                                           ***

Palmer was lying on the couch in her dorm, her legs across Anita's chest as she laid upside down, her head hanging off the couch, smoking a joint. Anita handed Palmer the joint, but she politely declined, shaking her head and shoveling chips from the bag they were sharing into her mouth.

"Don't they drug test the kids doing sports?" Palmer asked.

"Do I look like I care?" Anita asked.

"Fair enough."

"Do you not smoke?" Anita asked.

"I tried it once in high school, it just wasn't for me," Palmer said, "though, now with my dad gone...maybe I could use something to take the edge of."

"Don't get into drugs just because you're in grief," Anita said, exhaling smoke, "there's definitely pros to it, but don't do it just to escape something. I do it because it relaxes me, because god damn dude, being an athlete is stressful as hell and I need some kind of release that isn't sex or eating."

Palmer chuckled as the phone rang and she swung her legs off Anita and hopped up off the couch. She strolled across the room and answered the phone.

"Hello?" she asked.

"Hi," Dodie said, "Can I ask for help?"

"Of course, I mean, with as much as I can, considering I'm not there," Palmer said, "What do you need help with?"

"...I need help writing an essay," Dodie said.

As if college wasn't working Palmer hard enough, now she had to do 3rd grade essays to boot.

                                                                           ***

Palmer had never very well done in elementary school, especially when it came to writing.

She'd always struggled, partially because she'd been diagnosed with dyslexia, but she also just didn't enjoy putting her thoughts down on paper. She preferred to sift through them internally, like her mother did. She could recall one particular homework assignment from 5th grade where she was supposed to write down what she'd most like to do when she grew up, and how, since she couldn't think of anything interesting, she just wrote that she'd prefer not to grow up.

Suddenly counselors and teachers alike were worried to death about her. She was pulled from class for an hour a week and made to talk to the school psychologist, simply to ensure that she wasn't suicidal or anything like that. Palmer most certainly wasn't suicidal, she just lacked an imagination, and couldn't see the merit of deciding on a career when she was in 5th grade, especially since she'd likely switch her interest in careers only a year or so later. Kids rarely follow through on their plans from childhood.

She was surprised, actually, when she got to college and found herself enjoying doing essay work, but it didn't shock her one bit that Dodie was having the same trouble she'd had. Or, at least, she assumed she was. As it turned out, Dodie loved writing, and she'd already picked a subject on which to cover.

She just needed information.

                                                                               ***

"What'd you talk to your sister about?" Regina asked that night at dinner, and Dodie shrugged.

"I don't know. School stuff," she said casually, scooping peas onto her fork and eating them.

"Was she able to help you with your essay?" Regina asked, cutting into her fish.

"Yeah," Dodie said, "...she told me that she wasn't very good at writing when she was my age. She said that she didn't like it, and that it was hard for her but then dad helped her and she got a lot better and started enjoying it."

"That's true," Regina said, biting into her fish, "but her father showed her that with a little bit of effort, she can create worlds where she feels comfortable and happy when she isn't in reality. Sort of an escape, I guess. Your father loved writing, and he was excellent at it. I was always annoyed with him that he never did it professionally."

"...did Palmer leave any of her writing here that I can see?" Dodie asked, and Regina smiled, shaking her head.

"I'm sure she wouldn't want you to see any of it. I'm sure a lot of it's either extremely personal or extremely embarrassing," Regina said.

Dodie frowned. All she wanted to do was see what her sister was capable of, what she'd managed to learn from their father. No matter, she didn't need their mothers permission. She'd find her sisters writing that night after mom had gone to bed. Dodie was sneakier than anyone ever could've anticipated.

That evening, after her mother had fallen asleep, Dodie climbed out of bed and, with her little frog flashlight, snuck upstairs to her sisters room. She opened the door silently, crept inside and quietly shut the door behind her. She then started looking around her sisters room, though making sure to put everything back where it was so her mom wouldn't become suspicious, and finally found a series of ringbound pads of paper. She opened them up, sat down and wrapped her sisters sweatshirt around her, and started reading.

"Dad likes Dodie more than me. I should be happy, because Dodie is great, but I can't help but feel annoyed. I'm more annoyed at dad than her, obviously, because he should know how to talk to me, but he doesn't. He seems to only know how to be around small kids. I'm glad Dodie has our fathers attention, but I feel so alone. I don't really have any friends, and none of the boys I like seem to like me, so my only friends are mom when she's not working, and, of course, my sister. I sometimes wish she was an only child, because I feel like I'm just wasted space."

Dodie shut the book and immediately felt bad. She didn't wanna read anymore. She'd never known her sister felt so alone, and suddenly she felt guilty, as if she'd stolen their dad away from her. Now he was gone, Palmer was at college, and Dodie understood what being alone really felt like. She put all the journals back, exited the room and went back to her bed. As she climbed back in, she turned on her bedside lamp and started writing her essay.

She'd do for Palmer what their father couldn't.

                                                                            ***

Palmer woke up the following morning and rolled over on the couch, seeing Anita lying on the floor still asleep beside the couch, the bag of chips over her eyes. Palmer chuckled to herself, then groaned as she climbed off the couch and stumbled to the bathroom. She'd never really had a friend that was a girl before, so this "bonding" thing was new to her, but she was beginning to like it.

As she adjusted the mirror attached to the medicine cabinet and started doing some cleanup on her makeup and hair, she felt a sense of...belonging. This was new to her, and it sort of scared her, but she knew it was a good thing. She had to learn to have friends who were her peers and not her family. She sighed, pulled her eyeliner from the jar and started applying as Anita bumbled her way into the bathroom and dropped her panties, sitting on the toilet to pee, not even seeming to care that Palmer was there.

"Do you not have class?" Anita asked groggily.

"In about an hour," Palmer said, "No practice?"

"Not today, no," Anita said, "I may just snooze on your couch all day if that's cool. I could use the rest."

"My dorm is your dorm," Palmer said happily, "there's plenty of snacks and stuff in the little kitchenette. I've got frozen waffles, poptarts, whatever. Help yourself."

"Cool, thanks," Anita said.

Palmer gathered her things, and left to meet Arthur in the cafeteria. When she arrived, she found Arthur sitting by himself, and he happily looked up to greet her when she seated herself across from him. She smiled back as she plopped her backpack on the table in front of her.

"Your hair looks nice and curly today," she said.

"Thanks, I'm doing this new thing called showering," he said, "It's kinda legit, apparently people have been doing it for centuries."

Palmer laughed as she pulled out her course work for the upcoming class and started to look over it, just to make sure she'd done it right and she was happy with it. After a few minutes, she sighed and let the paper fall flat on the table as she looked back at Arthur again.

"...do you think I'm weird?" she asked.

"Yeah but it's why I like you," he replied.

"I've never had friends really, especially not friends who are girls, and now this track girl and I are hanging out all the time and it's...it's really nice. I feel good being a part of a feminine friendship. None of the girls at my old schools ever liked me. Actually, most people, regardless of gender, never seemed to like me much. My dad didn't even seem all that invested in me, really."

"Well, she likes you, I like you, your sister likes you obviously," Arthur said, "and dads are always more often than not gonna let you down. My dad is alright, but sometimes he can be a real jerk because I don't particularly adhere to his generations idea of manhood. Look at me, I'm wearing courderoy slacks and a sweatervest. Do I look like I care about sports?"

Palmer laughed again. She did enjoy having Arthur around to bounce things off of, this was true.

"...thanks for being weird with me," she said with a slight grin.

"Anytime, pardner," he replied.

                                                                           ***

"The person I most admire is my sister," Dodie said, standing in front of the class that morning, reading her paper, "...she's the coolest person I've ever known. She does whatever she wants and she doesn't let others tell her how to feel. She's at college now, and I wanna go to college someday because she did and she says it's cool. When our dad died, she came home and spent time with me to make sure I was okay, because she really cares about me."

Dodie waited a second, wiped her nose on her sleeve, then continued.

"My sister thinks our dad didn't like her much, and we learned I was my dads favorite, but I don't think that's fair. Parents shouldn't have favorites, and my sister is way cooler than I am. She's my favorite. She's strong, and smart and she does whatever she wants to do no matter what anyone thinks about it. She's always there to talk to me and help me, and she's a really kind and caring person. This is why my sister if the person I admire most, because even if she wasn't my sister, she's just a good human being, and I feel lucky to know her. I hope one day I can be even half as cool as she is."

Dodie waited for the teacher to give her the nod, letting her know she could go back to her seat. As she headed back to her chair, she noticed the girl sitting at the desk beside her. She had short orange red hair and soft almond eyes. Dodie sat down and the girl leaned towards her, whispering.

"I liked your essay," she said.

"Thanks," Dodie said.

"I'm Nona," the girl said, "you're lucky, I always wanted a sister, but my parents broke up."

"I'm sorry," Dodie said, trying to ignore her.

"...anyway, I liked your essay and your sister sounds cool. Sorry your dad died," Nona said.

"...thank you."

A moment passed as the next student got up and headed to the front of the class to read their essay, then Nona leaned in again.

"Do you wanna come over to my house this afternoon and play a game?" she asked, and after a moment, Dodie nodded.

"Okay, that sounds fun," she said.

As it turns out, nothing forces the Hurks girls to meet new people like the loss of those they already knew.

                                                                             ***

Palmer could remember sitting on the swingset in the backyard, watching her father play with Dodie when Dodie was only a few years old. She could remember being angry, being frustrated, feeling bad for being those things. She wanted to scream and hit him, but she never once wanted to hurt her sister. She loved her sister. This memory seemed to permeate Palmer's brain the entire day, and she found she was having a fairly difficult time getting through her classes without daydreaming.

Once the day was done, and Palmer wound up back in her dorm, she found Anita sitting still on the couch, eating a bowl of dry cereal. Palmer shut the door to the dorm behind her and stood there as tears began rolling down her face and Anita immediately got up, put her bowl down and put her arms around her friend.

"Whoa, what happened? You have a bad day?" she asked.

"...I think I hated my dad," Palmer said through her sobs.

"...it's okay," Anita said softly, patting her friend on the back, "everyone hates their parents at some point."

Palmer stayed and sobbed on her friends shoulder for a good 15 minutes or so. She'd never once contemplated that she'd outright hated her father, but now that the realization was sinking in, she felt even more gross about their relationship than before. At least when someone was alive and you were mad at them, there was the potential to fix it, but once they're gone...

...now she was taking his death personally, like he'd taken away the only chance they'd ever have to repair their relationship, a relationship he likely didn't even know was as broken as she assumed it was. Now she was mad at him for dying for an entirely different reason. While Dodie had a snack and played board games at her new friends house that afternoon, Palmer spent her day crying on her new friend on the couch. But both were grateful to have a girl friend to be with.

Sometimes the most healing thing for women, they'd both discovered, were other women.

Especially when men let them down so bad.