It had been a while since Melanie had been in a hospital.

The feeling of sitting, waiting, worrying was all too familiar, and because of that, oddly comforting, not unlike an uncomfortable hug. Sitting there in the hall, thinking about everything that Lisa had said before Darren arrived, she couldn't help but feel even more confused now than she had before. She heard a chair scrape beside her, and saw Gus seating himself, unwrapping a candy bar and handing her one.

"Thanks," she said solemnly, taking it and unwrapping it as he bit into his own.

"What a night, huh," Gus said.

"...was I wrong?" Melanie asked, "I mean, to feel, you know, the way I did about her?"

"Just because she turned out to be a liar doesn't mean you're lying to yourself," Gus said, "Seriously, you have to look at the silver lining to this whole ordeal, and that silver lining is that she may have helped you discover a part of yourself that was previously unknown. That's a positive, at the very least."

"Perhaps," Melanie said, biting into her Milky Way and chewing; after she swallowed, she said, "...I think I'm the worst thing to happen to Darren and Emma, and they'd be better off without me in their lives."

"Please, those two have plenty of problems without you, you aren't the issue, trust me," Gus said.

Melanie smiled best she could, if only because Gus was at least trying to make her feel better, and she did appreciate that. She sighed and laid her head on his shoulder, resting her eyes as they continued eating their candy bars in silence. It had been a while since any news had come to Melanie about Darren, and she was beginning to worry, despite trying not to show it.

"You know," Mel said, "...maybe you're right. Maybe this whole thing is just a lesson in how much better I'm doing than her. I know who I am, I know that taking my medication is a good thing, I know that trying to get better is the right path to be on. I'm everything she wishes she could be."

"That's the spirit," Gus said, smiling.

"...i thought she really liked me," Mel whispered, starting to cry onto his shoulder. Gus sighed and rubbed her back, pulling her close.

"It's okay your highness, you'll find someone who does," he said.

                                                                                              ***

Emma and Shane were on the couch, their mouths wrapped around one anothers, their hands reaching to the most tender places, when Emma started to push him off her a bit. He pulled back and exhaled as she sat up on her elbows and straightened her glasses.

"It's just so....so much harder, you know? To let it end, I mean. It's easier to simply give in and stay with someone, even if you don't want what they want, because what are the odds you'll find someone else who understands you the way they do?" Emma said, and Shane nodded.

"I totally get what you're saying," he said, "and I don't even know if I'm capable of being in a relationship at the moment, honestly. That was partially what ended things with my ex, besides her own abhorrent behavior. I really need to be there for my family right now, especially my sister."

"I don't know if you've noticed, but she seems to have a pretty solid support system, between my boyfriend and her neighbor," Emma said, and Shane sighed.

"Yeah, she always finds people who will put up with her, for a while at least, but..."

Shane sat on the couch now, Emma sitting up and pulling her knees to her chest, resting her head on them and watching him, one eyebrow raised as he sighed and continued.

"Eventually," he added, "they get tired of it, they leave, they push her away and I'm the one who's left to pick her back up. It's happened so many times at this point that it's pointless to ever believe it won't happen. And please, don't think I'm complaining, I mean I love my sister to death, but it's a bit exhausting having to clean up her life in addition to managing my own."

"Gus isn't going to leave her, and at this point I'm pretty sure Darren likes your sister more than he likes me," Emma said quietly, "but she's going to be fine, trust me, that's not going to happen this time, you just have to-"

But before she could finish that sentence, the house phone rang, and Emma excused herself to answer it. After a brief, tension filled phone call, Shane and Emma were on their way to the hospital.

                                                                                                ***

Gus and Melanie were asleep in their chairs when someone gently shook them awake. Gus grumbled and opened his eyes, putting his glasses back on to see a woman in a coat holding a clipboard standing in front of them. He gently roused Melanie, who wiped the sleep from her eyes and yawned as they both sat up.

"I'm Dr. Barnes," the woman said, "I'm the one who's been overseeing your friend, Darren."

"Is he okay?" Melanie asked.

"Well, we think he'll be fine, but he got stabbed pretty deeply. There's a bit of deep tissue damage, and he's going to require serious stitches, but we think overall it's certainly something he can recover from with the right amount of time and rest and care. Now, which one of you was with him when he was attacked?"

"I was," Melanie said, "Do I need to do anything?"

"Not at all, we're just getting information," Dr. Barnes said, "He isn't extremely conscious at the moment, but he has said he'd like to speak to you while he has a moment of strength, if you'll just follow me please."

Melanie glanced at Gus, who just nodded. She followed Dr. Barnes down the hall, around the corner, into an elevator and up to the next floor. They continued down another hall, and finally to a small room where she stopped Melanie outside of it.

"I must warn you, he...may not make a whole lot of sense," she said, "He's on some fairly heavy medication, and he's about to undergo surgery. Try not to read too deeply into anything he says."

"Okay, thank you," Melanie replied, heading into the room, shutting the door behind her. As she approached the bed, she could see Darren lying there, tubes in his nose, buzzing machines littered around him. She wanted to cry. She'd put him here. She'd done this to him. He rolled his head towards her as she approached and sat down in the chair by his bed. Darren smiled, best he could anyway, and tried to keep his eyes open.

"Hey princess," he said.

"Hello," she said.

"I guess I'll be okay," he said, "how about you? Are you okay?"

"I don't know," Melanie said, "I feel responsible."

"You didn't stab me."

"No, but I made you come there. This is all my fault," Melanie said.

"Like hell it is," Darren said, groaning, "Melanie...please don't blame yourself. And I'm going to be fine, so it's nothing to feel guilty about, alright? You were in need of help, and I'm glad I was able to help. Nobody could've expected what she would do, okay?"

Another beep came from somewhere in the room, and a few nurses, along with Dr. Barnes entered the room, prepared to wheel Darren out to surgery. He grabbed Melanie's hands and squeezed, smiling at her, even though his eyes were shut.

"I'll be fine, okay? Just try and relax, Sam."

Sam?

As they pushed Darren out of the room, Melanie was standing there, even more confused now than ever. A few minutes passed, Melanie still standing in that room, unsure of why he'd called her that. Maybe when he was better, she thought, she'd ask him about it. But for right now, what really mattered was Darren getting healed.

                                                                                                  ***

In the parking lot, Emma zipped up her jacket and exhaled deeply, then looked at Shane. He shrugged and tapped his fingers on the steering wheel as Emma put her hand on the door handle.

"Thanks for driving me," she said.

But before she could open the door, she turned back to face him.

"I'm sorry," she said.

"For what?" Shane asked, almost laughing.

"I don't know...for making you think something would come from any of this," Emma said, "I don't know. Things have just been so super fucked up lately, and Darren and I have been drifting and I just needed someone to be nice to me in ways he couldn't be. To not pressure me. To just...fucking...be there, you know?"

"I know what you mean, yeah," Shane said, "Look, you don't have to apologize for shit, Emma, I totally get what you're going through and what's happening. I'm always around if you want someone to talk to. It's not every day that your boyfriend gets stabbed for another girl, there's probably a lot to unpack there, so if you ever wanna talk, then I'm-"

"It was my sister," Emma said, and Shane glanced at her, confused.

"What?" he asked as he lit a cigarette.

"My sister," Emma said, "I had a sister growing up. I told Darren about it, and how I regretted I was never there for her when she needed help, and because of my inaction, she took her own life. I think Darren's taken that to heart, trying to protect any women he meets, especially because of what his father did to his mother."

"Christ."

"...he's a good man, and a better person than I could ever be, which is why I can't help but wonder if he's only with me because he feels this need to protect me as well," Emma said, "Does he really love me, or is it simply an obligation? Sometimes I just want someone who sees me as a person, not a project."

She looked at Shane, who put his cigarette down and kissed her cheek.

"I'll be around, okay, call me if you need anything," Shane said quietly as Emma climbed out of the car. She watched him back out and drive away, waving at her. Emma entered the hospital, and was eventually led to the room where Darren had been, finding Melanie still sitting there. Mel looked up at Emma, her eyes widening in fear, but Emma simply smiled as she walked in and sat down beside Melanie.

"Are you okay?" Emma asked, and Melanie shrugged.

"I...I really don't know," Mel said, "Do you hate me?"

"Of course not," Emma said.

"He called me Sam."

"...that was my sisters name," Emma said, "Melanie, are you sure everything is alright?"

"...if she lied about liking me, how can I be sure that anyone really does? I don't mean to sound ungrateful, I mean, Darren got stabbed for me, but...but how can I really trust that anyone actually likes me now? I trusted her, and she hurt me so deeply. She made me feel like maybe I wasn't alone, like maybe I wasn't so mentally unsound, or that how I was wasn't so bad in actuality, but now-"

"Melanie, I don't know if you've noticed, but we're all all kinds of fucked up," Emma said, interrupting her, "I mean, I lost a sister, Darren's parents had a super unhealthy relationship, Gus was an alcoholic. We're all just messes, trying to be there for one another. A community of sickness can foster wellness if they all just work together to do so. So she was a liar. You'll meet someone who isn't. But you of all people should know that romance isn't what's going to fix your problems right now. That's all on you, and how you approach your recovery."

"Yeah, I guess you're right," Melanie said, after a moment of pause, then added, "I'm sorry for ever being mean to you, or causing any trouble."

"I'm sorry too," Emma said, pulling Melanie close and hugging her, surprising her by this sudden act of genuine compassion.

The two women sat there, holding one another, for god knows how long until Gus finally emerged and found them. He offered to drive Emma home, but she insisted on staying there until Darren woke up, so instead he and Melanie took off. On the way home, Mel couldn't help but think about what Emma had said, about having a sister named Sam, and reminded herself to ask Emma about it sometime. As Gus parked, and the two of them got out - the sun coming up behind them - Mel couldn't help but think nothing would be the same after all this.

And how, somehow, she was actually excited for a change for once.

                                                                                             ***

"Darren?" Emma asked, his eyes fluttering open slowly. He smiled at the sight of her, and gripped her hand firmly, feeling her rub his hand with her thumb.

"I'm sorry you have to see me like this," Darren said, and Emma smiled, tears forming in her eyes.

"I'm just glad you're okay," she said softly, leaning in and kissing his cheek, "Just don't ever scare me like this again."

"I'll do my best," Darren said, trying to laugh but still in too much pain to do so.

"You don't have to protect everyone," Emma whispered, hugging him, "You don't. I'm sorry people made you feel like you have to, but you really don't."

Darren tried not to cry, but he couldn't keep it inside. He buried his face in her chest and let her stroke his hair as he wept.

"I hate my father," he said.

"I know baby, I know," Emma replied.

"This isn't personal, I hope you understand that," Lisa said.

Melanie was sitting, tied to a chair in her living room, her mouth ungagged only because she'd promised she wouldn't scream or cry out for help. Lisa paced in front of her, cleaning her nails with the tip of her knife, the crazy dancing on her eyes, a sight Melanie had somehow failed to notice properly until just this very moment.

"...you made me care about you," Melanie mumbled, angry, "You made me care about someone, and I've never cared about anyone, romantically, and now I'm going to second guess my feelings for everyone for the rest of my life, all because I won't trust myself not to think they aren't out to hurt me or use me."

"I'm not proud of how this went down, but it was the only way to get back to your brother," Lisa said, "and I did care about you, you were far more interesting than he'd ever led me to believe. I'm sorry that I lied, and used you."

"What's so great about Shane that isn't great about me?" Mel asked, her eyes cast down to the floor now.

"Are you...jealous I'm stalking your brother?" Lisa asked, half laughing, "Jesus, you are messed up."

"Yeah, I'm the messed up one here, that makes sense."

"Okay, that was fair, I guess I deserved that."

"Not surprising, my whole life people always preferred my brother over me, except for our father. He was the only one who liked me more than Shane. I've always been his shadow. Makes sense it would just happen again."

Lisa knelt and touched Melanie's face, looking into her eyes as best she could, despite Mel's best attempts to keep them out of her line of sight.

"Oh your highness," she said, "If we'd met under different circumstances, if we'd met before I met Shane, who knows what could've become of it all. I do like you. But this is the way things worked out, and I have to see them through to the end. Now you're going to call your brother, and ask him to come over. You're going to tell him you're having a crisis and need his help, and because he feels guilty, he'll come."

Lisa picked up Melanie's phone and untied one of her hands, allowing her to take the phone and dial. But Melanie didn't call Shane, no, she scrolled down to a different number instead, the only other person she could think of who might help.

                                                                                                ***

Emma was sitting at the desk in their home office when Darren entered, eating an ice cream cone. She turned and smiled at him, pulling her glasses off and letting them hang around her neck.

"What're you up to?" he asked, licking the ice cream.

"Coming up with a gameplan for class this week," Emma said, "...why, you want to do something?"

"Could be nice. We haven't been spending much quality time together lately. I was thinking maybe we could do something together. Go see a movie or something like that," Darren said, entering and eating the last bite of his cone, he added, "I'm sorry."

"For?"

"For pushing the family thing."

"Look, you have every right to want what you want, and maybe in a bit I'll change my mind, but...I'm sorry I'm what's keeping you from having what you feel you need," Emma said, as Darren kissed her forehead and rubbed her cheek with his thumb, making her blush.

"Hush, we'll work it all out," he said.

As Darren exited to get his coat and use the bathroom, his cell phone rang.

                                                                                                 ***

Lisa was standing in Melanie's open fridge, pulling out a plastic container, opening it and sniffing, before turning to face her, showing her the container.

"Do you mind if I eat this leftover chinese?" she asked, and Melanie shrugged.

"No, it's okay," Mel said, "You can have it."

"Thanks. I was going to eat at the restaurant, but obviously I didn't stay," Lisa replied, pulling a fork from the sink and starting to dig into the food; she sat on the armchair and sighed, looking around the apartment, saying, "You know, it wasn't like I lied about everything. I did care about you. I do. I also like princess stories. Fantasy stories my father told me as a kid always had a happy ending, and I've never gotten a happy ending. I just wanted Shane to be my happy ending."

"But not me, right?" Melanie asked.

"...if we'd met first, I think I'd have been perfectly fine with having you as my happy ending, but that isn't how it shook out, so...besides, you wouldn't..."

Lisa sighed and shook her head.

"What?" Mel asked, raising an eyebrow.

"You wouldn't want me after a while, nobody does," Lisa said.

"Could it be because you don't continue taking your medication?" Melanie asked, "Could it be because you stalk people? Perhaps the fault of blame lies on you and not the people you think are being mean to you. And you got me to believe the same thing, that I didn't need help, that it would change me. Yeah, of course it's going to change me, for the better. But you got me to believe it'd be for the worse, all because you wanted someone to be sick enough for you to control."

Lisa glared at Mel, and then sighed, shrugging and looking at her shoes.

"Yeah, you're not wrong," she said quietly, surprising Melanie as she added, "I am sick. I just felt safe with Shane. I thought that maybe if I got someone to vouch for me, then maybe he'd take me back, believe I was better even if I wasn't. But I didn't expect to like you as much as I did. I wanted to be a part of your family because I didn't really have one of my own anymore."

"Well maybe, if you got yourself well like I was trying to do before you convinced me otherwise, you'd be capable of making a family of your own," Melanie said.

"Maybe," Lisa said, sounding broken inside, "But maybe nobody would want me once the most interesting thing about me is gone."

"Your sickness is not the most interesting thing about you, that's just your brain telling you that because it's sick and wants to keep you ill," Melanie replied, "Once you think clearly, once you're better, you can find out what the things that really make interesting are. But you're never going to figure that out unless you get will first."

As the words left her lips, Melanie suddenly realized how all of this related to her, and made that decision right then and there that, if she managed to get out of this situation alive, she would put in even more effort to get well.

She didn't want to become Lisa.

                                                                                             ***

Darren grabbed his car keys and headed out the front door without saying a word to Emma, having heard all he had to hear over the phone call Mel had placed to him. He climbed into the truck and turned the ignition, backing out and speeding down the road, leaving Emma to look out the window, watching him drive away.

Emma walked to the kitchen and started to make herself a cup of tea, then stopped, opened a cabinet on the bottom shelf of the kitchen and pulled out the wine, instead having a glass of that, before heading to her phone and looking at Shane's number sitting in her contacts list. He'd given it to her at the restaurant, and she sighed, shutting her eyes as she hit 'dial'. Before she knew it, he was standing at her front door, smiling at her as she let him in.

"Everything okay?" he asked, "Kinda surprised to hear from you."

"If I kissed you, would that make me a bad person?" Emma asked, surprising him as she locked the door behind them, "If I were to kiss you, because you remind me of what I actually want from life right now, instead of berating me for not wanting something you want, would you call me a bad person? Even though I have a longtime partner and-"

And before she could finish that sentence, Shane put his hand on her shoulder and kissed her. As they pulled away, he smirked.

"There, now I'm the one responsible," he said, "No blame on your end."

"You could keep being responsible for bad decisions," Emma said softly, making him chuckle and kiss her again.

                                                                                            ***

"You don't know what it's like," Lisa said, but Mel interrupted her.

"Actually I know exactly what it's like," she said, "I was so not in my right mind last year that I...I figured that the boyfriend of a perfectly nice woman was actually my Prince Charming, and I should steal him from her somehow. I really genuinely believed that I was going to go back to a Castle and rule as a Queen at some point. My make believe world wasn't make believe to me. But I recognize it now was simply a coping mechanism, and that, while they're helpful, they aren't realistic to live in. I need to face reality. And yes, reality can be subjective, but...but it needs to still be real."

"It isn't just that...when you've been unwell for so long, it becomes all encompassing. It...it becomes all you are. You become so wrapped up in that identity, that you aren't sure you're a person without it, and you're scared to try and find out."

"I know exactly what you mean, Lisa," Melanie said, "But isn't it worth it, trying to find out?"

Lisa waited, tapping her nails on the coffee table she was sitting on before shaking her head.

"No, it isn't," she said, "One reality is safer than the other for me, and that's all there is to it."

"But you-"

"No, you need to stop psychoanalyzing me. We are not the same, okay? Just because something works for you, doesn't mean it'd work for me. Do you have any idea how many therapists in my life haven't helped? How many medications I've taken through the course of my search for 'help' that have only exacerbated my issues? No, you don't, and you never will."

Melanie chewed on her lip, as Lisa started to sharpen the knife on her shirt and sighed. She knelt in front of Melanie and ran her knuckles down her face gently, making Melanie smile, even though she didn't want to.

"We're similar, but there's a different ending in place for both of us," Lisa said softly, "Not everyone gets a happily ever after."

"Then why not try for a moderately alright now?" Melanie whispered, her eyes watering, her lip trembling.

"Because some of us aren't even allowed that."

"Get better with me," Melanie said, crying quietly, "I understand why you did what you did, I'd like to still be your friend. We can get better together. Just-"

"I'm not...I'm not getting better," Lisa said, "Some kingdoms are meant to crumble."

And suddenly, without any warning, the door was kicked open and Darren was standing there. Lisa, surprised by his sudden appearance, rose and lunged at him with her knife, only for Darren to grab a book about armor and shields off the nearby shelf and hold it in front of him, defending himself from her attack. Melanie quickly used her free hand to start untying herself, and once she was free she leapt on top of Lisa's back, the both of them twirling around in circles in the room.

"Be careful!" Darren said, "Be careful, she's got-"

"I'm aware of what she's got, thank you very much!" Melanie shouted.

Darren grabbed Lisa's wrist holding the knife, trying to wrestle it free from her grip, but she snarled and pushed herself against him into a nearby wall with all her force, as Melanie finally slipped off and, holding Lisa's hair, dragged her to the ground with her as Darren slid down the wall, clutching at his side, moaning. Melanie tied Lisa up with the very same ropes she'd been held with, and talked over her shoulder at Darren, who was trying to stand back up.

"I'll call the police," Melanie said, "Just make sure she doesn't move."

Melanie scrambled across the room back to her phone and began dialing, when she noticed Darren putting his hand on the wall, trying to use it to steady himself so he could stand, only for him to slide back down against the wall, a wall now smeared with blood. That's when it dawned on Melanie she didn't see the knife anywhere. She rushed over to Darren and turned him to his other side, only to finally spy the knife sticking out from his side.

"Darren, you-"

"Just...just call the cops, I'll be okay," he murmured.

"Hello?" Melanie asked into the phone, "My name is Melanie Irres, and I need help. I need police, and an ambulance, my friend has been stabbed by a home intruder. Please come quickly!"

As Melanie gave her address, she noticed Darren's eyelids fluttering, and his breathing shallow. She panicked and dropped the phone, grabbing his face with her hands and forcing him to look at her.

"Darren? Darren! Listen to me! They're on their way, okay? You're going to be okay! Everything's going to be okay! You're...you're the knight I needed, you will be fine!" Melanie said, tears rolling down her face, but Darren couldn't reply, he could barely breath, the pain spreading through his body that it kept him from moving much.

The sound of sirens eventually wailed outside, their red and blue lights dancing across the walls in the apartment windows, as Melanie held her knight in shining armor and tried to keep him conscious. Sitting in the back of the ambulance with him, after watching Lisa be dragged away by a crew of police, Melanie clutched Darren's hands firmly within her own and smiled at him.

"Funny," Darren said softly, his voice hoarse, "...stabbed defending a princess."

"You really are a true knight," Melanie said, smiling, wiping her tears on her sleeve.

"I'm...I'm sorry I...couldn't be...who you needed me to be," Darren said, "I can't be....who anyone needs me to be, I guess."

"What?" Melanie asked, confused, as he shut his eyes; she panicked and touched his face, "Darren? Darren!"

"I can't believe this place exists," Gus said, putting the car into park as he unbuckled his seat belt, his eyes glued to the building in front of them. Bea got out of the car as Melanie, bouncing excitedly like a child in the backseat, hopped out after her.

"Oh, I haven't been here in so long!" she squealed, "It still looks exactly the same!"

"Why haven't you been here in so long if you like it so much? Gus asked, shutting his car door and tugging his jacket on.

"I was banned," Melanie said, "But it's understandable, I beat one of the jesters with a turkey leg."

As she rushed towards the entrance, Gus sighed and linked arms with Bea.

"It's gonna be a long night," he muttered, making her chuckle.

It was Melanie's birthday, and she couldn't be happier. It had been a long time since she'd actively celebrated the occasion, and even longer since she'd been at Joust Kidding, the medieval themed restaurant experience. This was where she'd spent most of her childhood birthdays, and most of her later birthdays as well - before she stopped celebrating them and before they banned her for the turkey leg incident - but she hadn't been in ages. Now, however, with the ban having been lifted, she was ready to experience the thrill again, and with her best friends no less. This couldn't be a more perfect birthday.

"Who else is coming?" Gus asked.

"My brother is supposed to show up, also Emma and Darren, but I don't know if they'll make it," Mel said, "And my friend Lisa said she'd come."

"This place is cool," Bea said as they entered the building, taking in all the props on the walls and the costumes the employees wore; she added, "I feel like I'm at actually in King Arthurs court."

"You're such a dweeb," Gus mumbled, "You're both such dweebs."

"Welcome, lord and ladies, to Joust Kidding," said a teenage girl who stepped in front of them in full bard attire, her voice flat and monotone, clearly tired of her job; she continued, "Where you're the king or queen today. What is your business here at our fair kingdom?"

"It's my birthday!" Melanie said loudly, unable to contain her excitement.

"Hoorah," the teen replied, "Please follow me and I will lead to your roundtable, where you will partake in many fun games, a delicious feast and lots of meade."

With that, she and Melanie continued further into the seating area of the restaurant, as Bea and Gus followed somewhat behind them.

"Wow," Gus said, "That girl hates her life."

                                                                                          ***

"Are you about ready?" Emma asked, picking up her car keys from the key holder hung on the wall near the front door; she cleared her throat and called out to Darren a second time, "Are you about ready? I'm ready to go."

"Yeah, I was just finishing wrapping this," Darren said, entering the room with a present in his hand. Emma looked at him in surprise.

"I didn't know we were getting her anything."

"It was a last minute decision, but don't worry, I can stick your name on it," Darren said.

"Oh, well thanks, I guess," Emma replied.

As they headed out the door, Emma couldn't help but feel odd. She'd been left out. Sure, he'd said it had been a last minute decision, but still...she would have her name attached to a gift while she wasn't even sure what it was. Darren got into the car as Emma sat in the drivers seat and started it up. She wanted to be angry, she wanted to say something cruel and make Darren feel bad, and for what? All because he'd decided, at the last minute, to do something nice for someone without consulting her? This wasn't a healthy way to feel in a relationship, looking for ways to make him upset for no real goddamned reason.

Emma backed out of the driveway and started driving down the street, heading towards the destination Mel had provided her with. As she sat there, Darren looked out the window, watching people do yard work or play with their kids, all while she sat and stewed in her own disgust.

"You know," he said, "We could stop and get something else, if you wanna get her something more personal, like, from you. You're the one who works with her after all."

"No, I'm sure whatever you picked up will be fine," Emma said, trying not to sound enraged, "It's not often you get to celebrate someone's birthday, right? I mean, with us not having children, this will be sort of like a stand in, won't it?"

"Whoa, ouch," Darren said, "That's, uh, kinda harsh."

"I'm sorry," Emma mumbled, "You're right, it was. I'm sorry."

She didn't speak the rest of the drive there.

                                                                                              ***

"And what'll you have to drink?" the teenage waitress asked as the gang got comfortable in their seats.

"Uh, something non alcoholic for me, please," Gus said.

"Are you sure about that? You do know where you are, right? You're gonna want alcohol," she replied, making Gus chuckle.

"I appreciate your candor, but trust me, I'm trying to stay sober, so."

"Fair enough," she said, "And I'll just bring you guys some menus while you figure out what you want."

She turned and left, leaving the group to look around while seated. Bea couldn't help but notice that Melanie was giddy, like a child, and she found it endearing. Gus sighed and leaned back in his chair, rubbing his forehead.

"She's right, I am gonna want alcohol, but I know not to have it," Gus said, "I'm gonna stick to my guns."

"And we're all very proud of you," Bea said, leaning in and kissing his cheek.

The lights went down and a sudden blast of fanfare filled the restaurant, trumpets swelling, deafening the patrons. Gus put his hands over his ears, but Melanie was bouncing up and down, pointing at the enclosed dirt arena in the center of the restaurant. Bea and Gus leaned over the balcony and looked down with her. This, they admitted, they hadn't expected. Live entertainment?

"What is this?" Gus asked, finally uncovering his ears as the music died down.

"It's jousting!" Melanie said, "Didn't you wonder why the place was called what it is?"

"I...I guess it never occurred to me that it was literal," Gus said, "So...so they just have people joust?"

"Anyone can joust! Not just professionals! It's fun to watch people get their aggression out towards their family members or friends, especially when they don't know exactly what they're doing, but don't worry, nobody ever winds up seriously injured."

"Darn," Gus said, making Bea laugh.

"Gus?" a voice asked, making them all turn and see Chiako and Jeremy standing there. Chiako smiled at him as he stood up to hug her, and shake Jeremy's hand.

"What are you two doing here?" Gus asked.

"Just having lunch. Jeremy came here years ago with his dad, and he wanted to show me how ridiculous it was," Chiako said, waving politely at Bea over Gus's shoulder as she spoke; she cleared her throat and crossed her arms, "And you?"

"We're here for a birthday party," Gus said, jerking his thumb over his shoulder towards Melanie, "For my honorary child."

"Do you mind if we join you?" Chiako asked.

"No, not at all, pull up some thrones," Gus replied, making Jeremy smirk.

Jeremy and Chiako pulled up some seats and huddled around the table, as Melanie and Bea continued to ignore them, watching the jousting over the railing. Gus couldn't shake this funny feeling he had in the pit of his stomach, try as he might, and sitting here beside the woman he once called his wife and the woman he now called his girlfriend, he felt pulled between two totally different worlds. He watched as Jeremy laced his fingers with Chiako's and felt an anger burn inside of him, for reasons he didn't even understand. So instead, to ignore it, Gus watched Melanie, and decided to focus on what was important today, not what was important years ago.

About 10 minutes later, Emma and Darren arrived as well, and since their waitress had forgotten to take their drink orders when she came back with the menus, Emma took it upon herself to go get them drinks at the bar. As she approached, she tapped her nails on the bar top and waited for the bartender to pay her mind. She glanced beside her and noticed Shane standing there, nursing a beer.

"Hey," she said, smiling, "What are you doing here?"

"...it's my sisters birthday?"

"Well, obviously, but I mean why aren't you, you know, up there with everyone else?" she asked.

"I don't know, I'm not a very social person," Shane said, "...and it's weird, honestly, seeing my sister have friends. She's never had friends, so it's...it's kind of tough to get used to. I spent my entire adolescence after dad died protecting her, so to know that she no longer really needs me, I guess it makes me feel sort of useless."

Emma smiled, touching his arm, "You're not useless, trust me."

"Thanks," Shane said, forcing himself to smile back, "I appreciate that."

"Come back with me, you can pretend you just got here," Emma said, "It'll be less weird than if you come alone."

"Fair enough."

Emma dragged Shane back to the table, to find the waitress had left a handful of appetizers for everyone. As everyone started eating, Jeremy looked at Gus and cleared his throat.

"So, what do you do, exactly?" Jeremy asked.

"Right now? Absolutely nothing," Gus replied, "But I'm hoping to change that soon enough."

"You looking for work?" Chiako asked, and Gus nodded.

"Yeah, but something not too hardcore," Gus said, "Something manageable, enjoyable, you know. Something I wouldn't have to give too much effort to. It's a shame video rental stores no longer exist, because that's the level of employment I was designed for."

"What about something wherein you give something back to the community?" Jeremy asked.

"Why? What has the community ever done for me?" Gus asked, making him and Bea laugh.

"Seems sort of selfish to exist without doing something in return, is all," Jeremy said.

Gus furrowed his brow and stood up, excusing himself to go to the bathroom. Jeremy quietly followed. Bea watched them walk off, but turned to face Melanie instead, trying to focus on the positive. Melanie felt a tap on her shoulder, and turned to Darren, who handed her a small gift wrapped package.

"This is from Emma and I," he said, "Happy birthday."

"Thank you," Melanie said happily, taking the box and setting it in her lap, turning her attention back to the jousters as Darren scooted his seat up beside hers and watched with her.

"So is jousting dangerous?" he asked.

"Extremely," Bea said.

"You know?"

"I do it, yes," Bea said, "I play The Black Knight at the local ren faire every year, and let me tell you, it's....it's not the safest sport in the world."

"You guys, shut up, we're missing the carnage!" Melanie said, making them both laugh.

Gus, meanwhile, was exiting the bathroom only to find Jeremy waiting for him. Gus sighed and rolled his eyes as he adjusted his glasses and kept on walking, heading back to the table, Jeremy now on his heels.

"So I overheard Leaf talking with her mom about the conversation you two had," Jeremy said, "About whether she's happy or not."

"I'm not allowed to ask after my own ex-wife's happiness?" Gus asked.

"Nothing against that, no, it's nice," Jeremy said, "But both ladies think you still care about her."

"I'm always going to care about her, in one way or another, she's the mother of my child."

"Fair, sure, nobody would blame you for that."

"The hell's your problem with me?" Gus asked, startling Jeremy with his abrasiveness, adding, "I've gone out of my way to be polite to you, where's this coming from? What, you feel threatened or something? You know I have a girlfriend, right? I'm not interested in getting back together with Chiako, and I think she's made it more than clear that she's not interested either."

"...you say that, but your tone doesn't match your words. Prove yourself. Beat me and I'll let it go. If you can beat me, then I'll believe you're really over her."

"Beat you at what?" Gus asked, confused, making Jeremy point to the jousting ring.

Back at the table, Shane scratched the back of his head as Emma sighed, elbow posted up on the table, chin resting on her fist. He scooted closer to her and tapped her knee, catching her attention.

"Your boyfriend and my sister are pretty chummy," Shane said.

"He's a nice guy, and he cares about her," Emma said, "I think he kind of sees her as a surrogate daughter. He wants to have kids, I don't, so he takes his blessings where he can get them."

"You don't want kids? I don't either. I don't think I'd be a very good dad," Shane said, "Losing your own father makes you kind of question your abilities to child rear. I mean, how can I know if I'm doing a good job if I had nobody to really set an example for me when I was a child myself, you know? I mean, dad didn't die when I was super young or anything, but even still."

"The thing is, Darren and I have been together for a very long time, and...and I'm just starting to worry that perhaps this...isn't supposed to last. We seem to want different things."

"That happens, sad but true," Shane replied, "Some couples who start out super strong, who you'd think would survive anything and everything, just drift apart because what they want from their future differs too greatly from what their partner wants. At least you can acknowledge it. My ex girlfriend refused to. Stalked me for months. Wreaked so much havoc in my personal life, all because I didn't want what she wanted. At least you two seem amicable."

"...I guess we kind of are, yeah," Emma said, realizing she hadn't noticed just how open she and Darren really were with one another until just now, "Like, even at my angriest, we still talk, and we try not to have it devolve into outright fighting. We try and approach everything as adults, but..."

Shane cocked his head, waiting for her to finish. Emma's voice quivered, as tears formed in her eyes.

"...I spend so much time around children, that even the adults I surround myself with start to seem like kids," she whispered, "I just miss feeling like a young adult, and not feeling like an old woman already."

"You're not an old woman, Em," Shane said, chuckling, "Trust me."

She smiled at him as he wiped her tears away, just as Gus and Jeremy approached the table.

"Alright, get ready for a rumble in medieval times!" Gus shouted, picking up his soda and finishing it in one fell swoop, slamming the glass back down on the table, "Jeremy and I are jousting!"

"I put my cigarette butts in that mug," Bea said, as Gus pointed at her.

"Indeed you did," he said, sounding pained.

Melanie and Gus stood up and walked with Gus, as they headed down to the floor level, where people signed up for their chance to joust.

"You don't know what you're doing," Melanie said, "You could get hurt!"

"I've done this once before, thank you," Gus replied.

"Yeah, and look how that turned out," Bea said, "I mean sure, now you sleep with me, but I impaled your arm."

"Totally worth it, by the way," Gus said, making her laugh.

"Why are you doing this?!" Melanie cried, sounding scared now, "Why would you risk yourself on my birthday?"

"I..." Gus started, and stopped, then opened his mouth and whispered to her, "...I need to prove something to myself, and to that asshole my ex wife is dating."

Bea had turned to light another cigarette, and was not listening to their hushed conversation. Melanie turned and looked at her, then looked back at Gus as he wrote his name down on the pad, along with Jeremy's name, for their battle.

"Are you still in love with your ex?" Melanie asked.

"No, of course not, but I'd like him to leave me alone," Gus said.

"And fighting him will prove that?"

"I...I don't know."

"Gus-"

"Mel, listen to me, okay, I love Bea, but I think someone needs to hand this guy his ass on a platter. He seems...very...controlling. I just...I need to make sure that he knows that if he ever does anything to hurt her, he'll have to face me," Gus said.

"Admirable," Melanie said, nodding, "But you're not a very good athlete, no offense."

"None taken. Thankfully the horse does most of the work," Gus said.

As Melanie and Bea took their seats back at the table, Gus and Jeremy were standing in the hall to the arena, awaiting their horses and weapons. Gus, though he wouldn't admit it outright, was terrified. Why exactly was he doing this? Sure, his reasoning was true, he wanted to protect his ex from anyone who might do her harm, partially because he himself had done her harm and he felt awful about it, but was that the only reason? Was there some truth to what Jeremy had said? As Gus glanced up through the grate and saw Bea leaning over the rail, looking for him, he couldn't help but think that he was past his ex, and that he had someone new now.

But this decision to fight Jeremy in the arena was only making that assumption all the more transparent.

"Look, I don't want to hurt you," Jeremy said.

"Could've fooled me."

"But I want you to know that I'm the one she's with now, and that it's your turn to move on," Jeremy said.

"I already moved on, asshole," Gus muttered.

The doors opened, and the men walked into the arena towards their respective horses. Bea put her fingers in her mouth and whistled for Gus, making him cheer up just a bit. Melanie too hooted and hollered for her best friend. As Gus climbed onto his horse, he felt himself shaking, nervous, until the waitress from before handed him his lance.

"You do too much around here," he said.

"You don't know the half of it," she remarked, "Good luck."

"Don't need it, never had it," Gus said.

"That's the spirit," she replied, heading back to the restaurant proper.

A voice came over the loudspeaker, announcing the next challengers, and a cheer erupted from the crowd. Everyone from the table gathered around the rail to watch, except Chiako, who was in utter disbelief that this was happening at all. Gus shut his eyes and then remembered that was his biggest folly the last time he did this, so he forced himself to keep them open, despite the fear and adrenaline rushing through his body.

"What if he dies?" Melanie whispered, and Bea shrugged.

"Then I guess we should've gotten married so I'd get his insurance payout," she said, smirking and tapping her shoulder, "He's gonna be fine, girl. Don't worry."

A gunshot rang out in the air and the horses were off, hurdling themselves towards one another, and it was only on the drive home, as Gus appreciated his victory, did it begin to dawn on Bea that perhaps what she'd said about marriage hadn't in fact been a joke after all.

                                                                                              ***

Standing outside the restaurant as the night wound down, while Gus was celebrating his victory with Bea inside, and Chiako and Jeremy had left in embarrassment, Melanie couldn't help but feel annoyed. She'd been texting Lisa all day, and still had no response. She heard the doors swing open, and could feel the heat emenating from indoors as Shane came out beside her.

"Wow," he said, "It gets wild in there."

"Yeah," Mel said, smiling, "Thanks for coming."

"Yeah, it was no problem. Sorry I didn't have a gift, I did buy you something but I forgot it as I was leaving. I'll bring it to you sometime tomorrow."

"It's okay," Melanie said, as she sat down on a bench near the front, "...can I ask you a question?"

"Of course."

"...you'd love me no matter what, right?"

"I think that's been proven," Shane said, making her laugh.

"Yeah but, I mean, even if I...eve if I were totally unstable and...and I..."

But she couldn't bring herself to say it. Shane rubbed her back, and she just rested her head on his shoulders.

"I haven't been taking my medication the last few weeks, and I think that's a bad decision. I'm going to start again," she said, "I stopped because this girl I met in group therapy told me that the way I perceived the world wasn't wrong, but...even if that's true, which I do believe it is somewhat, I can't help but feel like I need some assistance, and that assistance is what the medication provides me with."

"I'm proud you, you know that right? You've come so far. Dad would be so proud of you too," Shane said.

"Hey," a voice said, as they both looked to see Lisa standing in front of them.

"Where have you been?" Mel asked, sounding annoyed, "I've been texting you ALL day."

"You know this woman?" Shane asked, standing up and putting himself between the two of them, as he added, "What are you doing here?"

"I came to see you," Lisa said, "Both of you. To apologize, for one, to Melanie, for leading her on, but I had to get back in touch with you one way or another. You wouldn't answer my calls, my e-mails, nothing. I need to talk to you."

"We have nothing to talk about," Shane said through gritted teeth, "And the fact that you'd stoop so low as to stalk my sister and pretend to befriend her is just downright disgusting."

"What...what's going on? What are you talking about?" Melanie asked.

"This is my ex girlfriend," Shane said, "She's been stalking me for months. I guess it only makes sense that she'd eventually find another way in via someone else related to me."

"You told me you cared about me," Mel said, standing up now, pushing herself in front of Shane, adding, "You told me....that...that I wasn't crazy. You made me think someone could love me. And it was all so you could get back in touch with my brother?"

"It was underhanded, I recognize that, but-"

"No. You're banished from our kingdom," Melanie said, a rage building inside of her, "Now get out of here before I call my friends. I never want to see you again, and I'm certain Shane feels the same way."

Lisa stood, glaring at them both, before turning and exiting. Shane put his hand on Melanie's shoulder and patted it.

"Are you okay?" he asked softly.

"...take me home."

                                                                                              ***

Bea entered the bedroom to see Gus sitting against the headboard, reading a book, eating a bag of chips with dip. She toweled off her hair and walked across the room, seating herself on the end of the bed, looking at him.

"Interesting night," Gus said, mouthful of chips and dip, "And now you get to sleep with the winner."

"Hah, yeah," Bea replied, "...why did you do what you did?"

"Because I don't like the guy, and the guy clearly doesn't like me, and even if we're not married anymore I have to protect the woman who birthed my daughter," Gus said, "Why do you ask?"

"You don't still love her, do you?"

"We slept together one time, but that was before you and I really started dating, but even then it was...it wasn't anything special. It was just something familiar and comforting. Yes, I still love her, in the way you love an estranged aunt or a cousin twice removed. She'll always have a place in my heart and my life because of the person we created together, but romantically? No."

"Are you sure of that?"

"What's with you?"

"I just...I was cheated on, before I met you, and...and I guess I'm just scared it might happen again. I can't go through that kind of pain again, I just can't, so I need to make sure that-"

Gus crawled across the bed, grabbed her shoulders and kissed her, taking her by surprise.

"You don't have anything to worry about," he said, "Seriously."

Bea smiled and rested her head on his chest, her mind at ease.

                                                                                               ***

In the car on the way home, Mel was fidgeting with the gift Darren had given her while Shane drove. He glanced over and watched her undo the bow and ribbons that wrapped around it, until she opened the box proper and pulled out a snowglobe with a castle inside of it.

"Who's that from?" he asked.

"My friend Darren," she said, reading the card, "He's a good guy."

She couldn't help but notice that Emma's name was absent from the card.

After saying goodnight to her brother, Melanie headed upstairs to her apartment and unlocked the door, walking inside. She turned the lights on, and turned around only to see Lisa standing in her living room.

"What are you doing in here?!" she asked, "How did you even get in?!"

"You're gonna wanna sit down, your highness," Lisa said, pulling a small flip knife from her pocket, "We need to have a long talk."

"How about it?" Gus asked, spreading his arms and showing off his leather jacket while Leaf and Bea sat on the couch, each eating ice cream out of an open carton.

"Dad, aren't you, like, old?" Leaf asked, "Shouldn't old people wear old peoples clothes?"

"Listen to her, she's not wrong," Bea said.

"I'm trying to be hip, with it, part of the 'in' crowd, you know? I want people to see me and think 'now there's a cool dad!' because, really, I am a cool dad," Gus said, "I have the jacket to prove it."

"A leather jacket doesn't inherently make a guy cool, you need the right attitude, accessories and whatnot," Bea said, "Leather stuff only makes girls cool because societies expectations for cool women are already so low they're impossible not to meet immediately. But you wanna be a cool guy? You're gonna need a motorcycle or something. Not just the jacket."

Bea got up and headed to the bathroom, as Gus sat down beside Leaf, who was sucking on the end of her spoon and laughing to herself. Gus smiled as he pulled the jacket off and looked at it in his hands.

"I thought it was cool," he said.

"You're already cool, dad, you don't need to try," Leaf said, "You stopped drinking. That in and of itself is cool. You took control of your life."

"I guess I never thought of it that way," Gus said, straightening up, smiling at her wisdom.

The door to the apartment opened and Melanie entered, shutting the door behind her. She stopped in her tracks when she saw Gus and Leaf sitting there, uncertain of how to approach them. Gus stood up and walked to Melanie, putting his hand on her shoulder.

"You okay?" he asked.

"I need to talk to you," she said.

                                                                                               ***

Emma was seated at her desk, correcting papers, when a knock came at the door. She glanced up and adjusted her reading glasses to see a man standing in the doorway, peeking into the classroom. He smiled upon seeing her, and approached, holding out his hand.

"Hi, I'm looking for Melanie?" he asked, "I'm her brother, I'm supposed to pick her up for something."

"She's not here," Emma said, shaking his hand, "Sorry to disappoint you."

"She told me that she'd be here today."

"Well, she told you wrong then," Emma said, chuckling, "She didn't come in today, and she didn't even call. I just figured something came up. Sorry to not be more of a help to you."

"It's fine, I'll stop by the apartment and see if she's there," Shane said, exhaling and heading for the door before stopping and turning back to face her, chewing on his lip as he asked, "So is she a big help in here, or?"

"Surprisingly she is, especially after being on medication," Emma said, setting her pens down and removing her reading glasses, letting them instead dangle around her neck; she added, "She's been increasingly lucid and coherent, and the kids really like her. She's extremely capable of interacting with children, perhaps due to her innate inclination towards that mindset herself, so they really connect with her in a way they don't with me."

Shane stood there, somewhat surprised but refusing to show it, nodding. He folded his arms and sighed.

"That's...really great, honestly. When she first told us she was in therapy we didn't believe it-"

"That was also my doing," Emma said, chuckling, "Though it didn't turn out too great at first. But it seems like in the long run its worked to her advantage. Now she's doing group therapy I hear. I'm just happy to know she's doing better. I was very concerned for her well being."

Shane started to exit again, only to stop once more and look back at her.

"...thanks for caring about my sister," he said, stuttering, sounding like he was trying not to cry, "...far too many people haven't."

As he left, Emma turned back to her papers, lifting her reading glasses back onto the bridge of her nose. She thought about Shane, and how moved he seemed to be just by her kindness towards his sister, and how she wished Darren could show that level of emotion more sincerely, more often. She'd quickly find she couldn't get the thought out of her head for the rest of the day.

                                                                                                 ***

"Are you telling me that all the whack ass shit you had me help you with was for nought?" Gus asked, sitting in disbelief at Melanie's admittance to her feelings for Lisa. Bea, who was standing beside the chair he was sitting on in his bedroom, couldn't help but smile at all of this.

"No, that's a good thing, dude, that means she recognizes how horribly this self inflicted heternormative bullshit can hamper ones attempts at finding genuine happiness," Bea said, approaching Mel who was seated on the end of Gus's bed and putting a hand on her shoulder, adding, "I'm proud of you. That's really awesome."

"I feel like I'm thinking more clearly," Melanie said, "like I can finally see what I actually like and want, and...and the fact that it's happening with someone who also knows what that's like, who's capable of really understanding it...it feels good. It feels right. It's nice to be understood, especially after a lifetime of being poorly interpreted."

"Well, so long as you're happy then," Gus said, sighing and leaning back against the chair, adding, "I just hope you know what you're doing."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Bea asked, sounding irritated on Melanie's behalf as she scowled at him.

"I...I just...I don't want to see you get hurt, that's all," Gus said, "By anyone, it doesn't matter who. I just feel like maybe you're rushing things. You've known this girl for, what, a few weeks at best, you know? I don't know. I just-"

"I think she's capable of knowing what's right and what's wrong for her," Bea said, interrupting him and standing up for Mel, continuing by saying, "She's obviously capable of knowing considering she finally decided to try therapy and medication. Sick people are usually reluctant to such an idea, but Mel wasn't."

"I...I didn't..."

Gus didn't have a response. Bea grabbed his leather jacket, pulled it over herself and zipped it up.

"I'm taking Leaf to get more ice cream," she said, before exiting the room, leaving Gus and Melanie alone. Gus looked at his feet before looking up at Melanie, still seated on his bed now cross legged and running her fingers through her long blonde hair.

"...I didn't mean anything cruel by it," Gus said softly, "...when I moved in here, I had lost access to my daughter, the only person who really has ever meant the world to me, but meeting you and you being in such a childlike state of mind, I guess...I guess I felt responsible for your safety and you became some sort of fucked up surrogate or something."

Melanie smiled, touched at this admittance. Gus continued.

"I guess I just wanna make sure you stay safe. I'm wary of anyone who inserts themselves into your life because I feel like I'm partially liable for anything that happens to you as a result of their actions. I need you to be safe."

"I'm safe, Gus, I'm probably safer than I've ever been in my life, and I think I owe a lot of that to your influence," Melanie said as Gus got up and walked to the bed, sitting on it himself opposite of her and holding her hand. She added, "but thank you for caring."

"You're my best friend, Melanie, I wouldn't be able to live with myself if any harm came to you because I was being lackadaisical in my approach."

She smiled and hugged him, patting his back. What had she done to deserve such a brave and honorable knight?

On the way out of the apartment and back towards her own, she spotted Allen opening his own apartment door, and decided to pay him a visit. She figured she'd let Gus explain to Bea what he'd really meant, and let him have alone time with his actual daughter, so Allen was now becoming a good replacement for interaction with Gus when he wasn't as readily available. Allen had set his grocery bags down by his feet as he opened the door and smiled upon Mel's approach.

"You look happy," he said.

"I am happy," she said, her voice bright and bouncy, "Need any help?"

"No thanks," Allen said, "I can handle it. What's got you in such a good mood?"

Melanie had a million reasons, certainly, but she finally settled on one.

"Friends," she said.

                                                                                              ***

Darren was cooking dinner when Emma came home.

Stirring a pot of tomato sauce as she walked into the kitchen and hoisted her bags onto the table, Darren turned and looked at her as he tasted his efforts off the tip of the wooden spoon. Emma sat at the table and looked at him, laughing at his face as he realized it was too hot to taste test. He turned the heat down and set the wooden spoon on the counter, approaching her at the table.

"Have a good day?" he asked.

"As good a day as one could have, I suppose," she replied, "Met Melanie's brother."

"Really?" Darren asked as he approached the table, handing Emma a beer and stroking her hair.

"Yeah," she said, cracking it open and taking a swig, "Nice guy. He was looking for her, but she didn't come in today, so I wasn't much help. Still, it's good to know she has some sort of family out there willing to participate in her life and watching over her."

"Yeah, that is somewhat relieving," Darren said, heading back to the stove while Emma drank. As she watched him continue to cook, all she could think of is how genuinely moved by her kindness towards Melanie Shane had been, and how selfish it felt to feel that way. Taking this thing between brother and sister and somehow making it about herself. But she couldn't help it...that level of positivity...well, Darren was positive, but he was also very matter of fact and reserved emotionally. It was typical, raised in society the way men were, that he would be like this, but even in his most explicitly open moments towards her, she felt like he wasn't being honest. Like he was really hiding how he felt.

"So Melanie didn't come in today?" Darren asked, glancing over his shoulder and breaking her concentration.

"Wha..no, uh, no she didn't," Emma said, shaking her head and coming back to reality, escaping the inner workings of her brain, "No, she didn't even call to tell me, she just...straight up didn't show. I hope she's alright."

"I'm sure she's fine," Darren said, "Now, are you hungry?"

"Only all the time."

                                                                                            ***

Bea was asleep in bed and Gus was seated on the porch, looking out at the stars as he drank a caffeine free soda. He heard the door slide open behind him and saw Leaf come on out in her sweats and hoodie. She seated herself beside her father and, after putting her legs up on the railing, exhaled loudly. Gus smiled. They'd rarely had time to be together like this since she was a little girl, before he'd started drinking. He appreciated it all the more now.

"Bea told me what you said to your friend," Leaf said, "...you know, I really meant what I said earlier, about the whole refusing to drink makes you cool thing. I really do believe it. You had an addiction and then you refused to let that addiction take your life from you."

"I owe a lot of that to my friend," Gus said, "That's why I care so much. Without her interference, I may still be a lush falling asleep on the couch in the middle of the day. That wasn't the memory I wanted you to have of me."

"Trust me, it isn't," Leaf said, toying with the drawstrings on her hoodie as she giggled, "Actually, if anything, my best memory of us together is when you took me to the zoo for the first time."

"We should go to the zoo again, it's been a while since I've gone," Gus said.

"That would be cool."

"Hey," Gus said, turning towards her, "this guy your mom is seeing, what's he do? Do you like him?"

"He's a pediatrician, and I guess he's alright. I mean...he's not mean or anything, but he's also nothing special," Leaf said, "I can't really see what mom would see in him but I'm not mom, so. I'm much more...you. I think that's partially why I love you is because I love myself, because you taught me to, flaws and all. He's a nice enough guy, sure, but beyond his credibility with his work I can't see a particular reason to date him. Why?"

"No reason, just keeping tabs on everyone," Gus said softly, drinking his soda.

"...do you still love mom?"

"...I..." Gus mumbled and looked out into the sky again, "...I don't know. In some way I always will, but is it romantic? That's the question. I don't harbor any ill will towards her for leaving, and kicking me out of your lives. She did the right thing. I was dragging everyone down. Thanks to Mel's father, I learned how not being there can be such a detriment to your children, and I decided it was time to get my shit together. But I love Bea. She's really kind of perfect for me."

"She's really cool, dad," Leaf said, before rolling her eyes and adding, "Which I guess makes you a cool dad, because you're dating someone cool."

"Yes, victory," Gus said, pumping his fist to her laughter.

                                                                                                ***

Melanie and Lisa were seated in her living room, as Mel flipped through a photo album of Lisa's adolescence, noting that she too often wore princess costumes throughout her childhood. Melanie smiled at these photos, some of which were taken at school (a school with, apparently, no dress code) or at home, or even sometimes on vacation. Lisa was sitting beside her, sipping tea and eating cookies from a box as she watched Melanie flip through her life.

"I always thought I was the only one," Mel said quietly, "It's nice to feel like somewhere out there was another kid as warped as I was."

"Hah!" Lisa cackled, "Yes, absolutely. It's those little moments of revelation that truly bring you closer to someone, when you recognize that they're not all that different from you in reality. I didn't lose my father, the way you did anyway, but I still managed to recede into a fantasy world that was equally as unhealthy for me, psychologically."

"At least you can admit it," Melanie said softly, "I lied to myself for so long that I still have trouble accepting just how falsified my reality actually was. Now that I've acknowledged it, it's...slightly terrifying to me just how much time I actually lost living a life that wasn't real, waiting for people who would never arrive."

"Deep," Lisa said, "Well, I arrived, that's got to count for something, right?"

Mel smirked and patted Lisa's knee before going back to the album.

"Who's this?" she asked, flipping a page and seeing another girl, a few years older than Lisa, in the photo with her and her father.

"That's my sister," Lisa said.

"You have siblings?" Mel asked.

"I had a sister," Lisa said, "We don't talk anymore. I don't really talk to anyone in my family anymore."

Melanie nodded. She wouldn't prod her any further on this, as she knew what it was like to be estranged from your family for things outside your control. Instead she looked back at the photo and noted how similar the two looked, like they could be twins, and she thought of her brother. She continually let him down, and yet he was still trying to work with her. She appreciated this and thus decided that, when she got the chance, she'd call him up and tell him a few things.

She felt Lisa crawl across the couch and sit behind her, putting her arms around Melanie's midsection and hug her tight. Melanie laughed, but gave in to the affection, largely because she was so touch starved for it, and held Lisa's hands. Together the two sat there for a while and reminisced about days gone by, family passed on and, most importantly, their favorite royal memories.

                                                                                                   ***

Lying in bed that night, Emma couldn't sleep.

Instead, she quietly climbed out of bed and headed downstairs, in her pajamas, to read. She didn't want the light to wake Darren up, nor did she want to have a conversation about why she couldn't sleep. She knew damn well why. She was sick to death of having the 'family' discussion, and would do anything at this point to avoid it. So she huddled up on the couch and continued reading the book she'd been invested in lately, all the while her mind drifting, not taking in the words her eyes were scanning.

Finally she picked up the phone and dialed a number. After a few minutes, a groggy voice answered the call.

"Hello?" he asked.

"Hi dad," Emma said.

"Hey, is everything okay, it's late," Patrick said, still sounding half asleep.

"Everything is fine, relatively speaking," Emma said, "I just...do you remember when mom had that affair? The one with the guy from the doctors office?"

"Unfortunately I do," Patrick replied, "Why? Darren isn't having an affair is he?"

"God, no, I doubt he'd be capable of such a thing," Emma said, genuinely meaning this, before adding, "...did you blame her for what she did?"

"I mean, things were tough at the time, Em," Patrick said, yawning, "In hindsight I blamed myself far more, but that isn't fair. I'd say to split the deal evenly, if anything. I wasn't totally blameless. She obviously wasn't getting something from me that she needed to be getting, but once it was over, and we got into couples counseling, I tried very hard to be a better husband and it's managed to make things work since then."

"...but what if it wasn't your fault? What if you...what if you simply felt deep down that you no longer had a reason for being with this person, with mom, because she wanted something different from what you wanted, and that she had every right to leave because of that?"

"Well that wasn't the cause, so hypotheticals don't matter," Patrick said, "Why are you asking me this?"

"Just had a nightmare about the whole thing," Emma said, outright lying now, before finishing, "Sorry to wake you."

And she hung up without even saying goodnight. She'd call him back tomorrow, apologize profusely, make up some more crap about this supposed 'nightmare' and move on, but tonight...tonight all she could think about is how much she didn't want to go back upstairs to bed, and instead how much she wanted to find a new place to sleep.

And someone new to sleep with.

                                                                                              ***

Melanie arrived back at her apartment early in the afternoon the following day, and sitting outside her apartment was something wrapped in paper bags with a note from Allen. She picked it up, let herself into her apartment and unwrapped it. As she was looking at this framed photo, she heard someone come up behind her, and looked to see Leaf standing there, eating a thing of yogurt.

"Where's your dad?" Melanie asked.

"He and Bea go to the gym in the mornings," Leaf said, "At least they tell me they do. What's that?"

"A gift, from a friend," Melanie said, smiling at the framed photo.

"Cool," Leaf said.

Melanie hung the photo on the wall and stood back to admire it. Leaf continued to scoop what leftover Yogurt out of the container she could get. It was of a castle, somewhere in Europe most likely, and the note that Allen had left simply said, "To my new friend, Melanie."

Yes, Melanie thought, here's to friendship.

"Do you think my dad's cool?" Leaf asked, and Melanie snorted.

"No, but his uncoolness is what makes him cool, so it doesn't matter what my personal opinion is," Melanie said, and Leaf nodded, smiling.

"I like that," she said.

"I just don't understand," Melanie said as she and Lisa sat at a small coffee shop, sipping their drinks and sharing a few pastries; she added after chewing, "Why would I want to give up me medications and go back to how I felt before when how I felt before was awful? I mean, sure, I don't feel great now either, but like...it just seems counterproductive is all."

"Taking some pills and talking about your feelings is counterproductive. They call living your fantasies 'allowing mental illness to fester' but nothing is festering. Everyone lives in a fantasy! In one way or another, we're all making our lives up. Social media itself is a perfect example of attempting to be the ideal version of yourself, even though you know as soon as the makeup comes off and the filters go away you can't stand how you look in the mirror," Lisa replied, "Because reality is subjective to whoever's experiencing it."

"That just sounds like an excuse to continue being ill," Melanie mumbled, stuffing a bear claw in her mouth.

"Okay, let me phrase it like this, then...if society is as accepting as they are these days, why can't you just be a princess? Even if we actually weren't, which we are, why can't we just be them in day to day life? People can transition genders now, people can be proud of their body types, so why can't we just be who we want to be...who we know we are?"

Lisa had a good point, and one that Melanie struggled to refute. Just then she looked up and saw Gus standing at their table. She smiled at him as he folded his arms.

"Heya," she said, "This is Lisa, she's from group."

"Hi, I'm Gus," he said, without extending an arm to shake her hand, "So you two having a little group session of your own, or?"

"Just girl talk," Mel said, "You know, periods, babies, vacuums, stuff like that."

"Oh, gross, vacuums," Gus replied, making her chuckle, "Well when you get back to the apartment, I need to talk to you."

Melanie nodded, agreeing to this, and then watched Gus walked away. Lisa gave him a skeptical eye as he headed out the front door of the small coffee shop, and then turned her attention back to Melanie.

"Seems like he isn't fond of your so called 'delusions'," Lisa said, picking up a donut hole and popping it in her mouth.

"Gus? Lord knows Gus is the only one who told me it was okay to be who I am, he wouldn't lead me astray..." Melanie remarked, glancing back towards the door and smiling softly, "...he's my esquire."

                                                                                                 ***

"It's like he isn't even considering my feelings on the matter," Emma said, stabbing at her lunch as she and Mel sat together in the cafeteria; Melanie was eating a sandwich and listening to Emma talk about Darren, concerned, but also somewhat jealous.

"How so?"

"You know what it's like not to be listened to. You spent a good few months not being heard," Emma said, and this caught Mel off guard, as she hadn't expected this level of honesty between them; she nodded, indicating Emma could continue, which she did, adding, "It's infuriating. It's my body, but he's the one who apparently gets the say over what we put in it, even if I want nothing put in it? That doesn't sound like equality to me."

"So you're telling me isn't a prince charming?" Mel asked, smirking, even making Emma smile a little.

Ever since Mel had been on her meds, she'd been responding to conversation like an actual human, instead of someone pretending to be human, and Emma appreciated having a real female friend around.

"I don't know," Emma said, exhaling, "He is, he really is, and I don't want to stop him from having a family if that's what he actually wants from life. Lord knows there's plenty of women out there who'd die to have a man who actually wants children."

"And you feel guilty?"

"I don't know. I don't think I owe anything to the 'sisterhood' or whatever to turn my man loose to the right woman who'd want him, but I don't want to keep him from being happy, like I said," Emma said.

Just as Emma finished her sentence, another woman pulled a chair out beside Mel and set their paper bag down on the table. She had short orange hair and was wearing a polo and jeans. She opened her bag and pulled out a small plastic container with a fork.

"What're we talking about?" she asked.

"Men," Emma said flatly.

"Oh," Rachel said, digging into her food, "Sorry, no opinion."

"If your partner wanted to have a baby, but you didn't, would you stay with them and have them possibly resent you or let them leave so they can have what they want?" Emma asked, and Rachel sighed, leaning back in her chair, stirring the contents of her lunch.

"I think," she said, "and this is totally just off the top of my head, don't ever tell Melissa I said this, but...I think I'd stay with them. I know that's selfish as fuck, but, like...how lucky am I gonna get to find someone who understands me the same way she does? Then again the dating pool for lesbians is a lot smaller than it is for straight people, so perhaps my reasoning makes sense."

Emma hadn't thought about it like that. Darren did understand her in a way nobody else ever had, and likely, ever would. She glanced to Mel, who was stuffing her sandwich in her face, chewing noisily. Emma smiled, watching this display; ever gloriously out of sync Melanie.

"What would you do? I mean, if you were romantically entangled," Emma asked, and this made Melanie raise an eyebrow.

"I...I don't know," she said softly, putting her sandwich down and wiping her hands on her pants, her voice getting low, "I...I've never...um..."

She lowered her eyes to the sandwich on the table and didn't say anything further, which Emma didn't understand. Thankfully Rachel knew immediately what the insinuation was, her mouth slightly agape.

"You've never been with anyone?" she asked, "Aren't you, like, in your thirties?"

"So? Does age have something to do with it? Is it weird, to like...not have done something by now? I mean, the occasion just never came up, I guess," Melanie said, her voice sounding far more real than it ever had before to Emma in this very moment, "I don't even know..."

A pause, as Rachel and Emma waited with baited breath for the end of that sentence.

"Yes?" Rachel asked.

"I don't know," Melanie said, opting instead not to finish but adding, "I guess I...can't say it's never come up, it's more like, nobody has ever really been interested, and I thought I wanted a prince charming so badly but, do I?"

Now this was something that took Emma by surprise. She'd never once questioned the fact that Melanie herself may not even know her own sexuality. Melanie folded her arms on the table and looked at her nails. Rachel rubbed her back, letting her know this was something she could figure out on her own at her own pace, and that that was okay, and that was nice, but...she still didn't say anything else for the remainder of the day.

                                                                                                 ***

"Oh yeah princess, you got real big dyke energy," Bea said, making Gus cackle as Melanie paced in front of them on the couch. Bea was sitting, Gus was laying, his head in her lap.

"I'm being serious!" Melanie said, sounding annoyed now, "All those storybooks my father read me, it was all...you know, femininity and princesses and happily ever after but..."

She stopped as Gus sat up and looked at Melanie who now sat on his coffee table and looked at her feet.

"What if," she started, her voice cracking, "What if none of it's true, you know? The medication has made me realize it was all a lie, and if it's all a lie then perhaps who I thought I was was a lie too, and...and if that's the case then...what if I'm one of those people doesn't get a happily ever after?"

"Are you implying that women who don't like men aren't entitled to happiness and love?" Bea asked, and Melanie shrugged, trying not to cry. Bea saw her eyes soften with tears, and she reached across the gap, putting her hand on Melanie's knee, adding, "Honey, hey...I'm sorry, that came off as rude. Um, look, everyone deserves to be loved okay? Even if it's not what your storybooks taught you. Think of all your personal problems in therapy as dragons that need to be slain."

"But what if they're just a Hydra?" Melanie asked, tears falling down her face now.

"What do you mean?" Gus asked, now sitting fully up, completely concerned.

"She knows what I mean," Mel said, nodding at Bea, who nodded in understanding as Melanie looked at Gus and explained, "What if all my problems are just a Hydra? It's a...a type of Dragon, one that has multiple heads, and whenever you cut one off, another comes out, and you can never win. What if that's my mental state? What if being unwell really was what was well for me, because it allowed me to not focus on all the problems I have otherwise? I lived in fantasy, sure, but at least I was happy. Now I live in reality and I'm miserable. At least before I never had to question who I liked...who I am...I spent so long imagining I was someone else that I'm in my thirties and I...I don't know who I am."

"A lot of people don't, Mel," Gus said, "But you're alright, you got us. You have more than a lot of people have, which is a support system. Take as long as you need to to find yourself, okay?"

Bea smiled and kissed him on the cheek as Melanie stood up and grabbed her jacket off the rack by Gus's door.

"Where you going, your highness?" Gus asked as she pulled her jacket over her blouse and zipped it up.

"I need to talk to someone who'd understand," she said, exiting the room and into the hallway.

As she stumbled into the hall, she glanced at Allen's door, considering for a moment the advice of a father like figure, but instead she headed down the stairs and out of the complex towards her destination.

                                                                                               ***

"What are you doing here?" Lisa asked as she pulled her apartment door open.

Melanie pushed her way inside and breathed into her hands, trying to warm herself back up.

"You want some tea or something?" Lisa asked.

"Yes please," Melanie said, her teeth chattering; as she watched Lisa head to the kitchen, she stood in the living room and asked, "You know what it's like to believe in something that isn't real, or other people tell you isn't real anyway. But, like you told me the other day that now everyone is performative, that everyone can call themselves whatever they want, they can change genders, they can...whatever. But the difference is that those people aren't sick, or at least that part of them isn't a manifestation of their illness if they are. But we're sick. We know we're sick."

"Did you seriously just come over here to psychoanalyze a conversation we had like 3 days ago?" Lisa asked, dunking a tea bag into a mug and walking steadily back into the living room.

"No I...I just...maybe you're right," Melanie said, surprising her as she continued, "Like, maybe we can just be whoever we want to, and there's nothing wrong with that, so long as we aren't hurting anyone, you know? And that goes for anybody. People who believe in religion, whatever. So long as they don't use said belief as source of power over another, then what is the harm?"

"Exactly my point," Lisa said.

"Are you..." Mel started, trailing off before mustering the courage back up, "Where do you stand? If we're talking storybook romance, and...and happily ever after, did you wait for a prince charming too?"

"I waited for anyone," Lisa said, setting the mug down on the counter and walking to Melanie, taking her hands in her own and rubbing them, warming them up more and smiling at her, saying, "Who are you waiting for, princess?"

"I...I don't know."

Lisa smirked as she turned and walked back to get the mug, as Melanie unzipped her jacket and let it drape over a nearby chair. Lisa handed Melanie the mug, and she took a few long sips, warming her insides back up from the frost outside. Lisa stood, arms crossed, watching her drink, smiling the whole time.

"You know how the prince knew Cinderella was his one and only? He kept going around and around, putting this glass slipper on her foot until he found the woman it fit. Doesn't that sound exhausting? Most people see it as romantic, like, how far one would go to find the right person, instead of admitting that there is no 'right' person, and that sometimes you need to just pick a girl and sweep her off her feet."

Melanie blushed, as Lisa approached her, taking the mug back in her hands and setting it down on the nearby desk.

"Aren't you tired of going to the ball only to dance alone?" she asked, running her hands up Mel's arms, making her shiver as she leaned up to match Mel's height, one of her hands finding its way to the back of her neck, "There's no happily ever after, princess, there's only moderately alright now."

With that, she kissed her.

Melanie had never been kissed before, by anyone, and didn't really know what to do, but she also didn't fight it, and it certainly didn't feel wrong. She put her hands on Lisa's hips, only to have Lisa hold her hands a moment later, still kissing her, making her sit down on the coffee table. Melanie tried to catch her breath as Lisa sat beside her. Melanie looked anywhere but directly at her, unsure of how her embarrassment by her naivety would come across, but Lisa just chuckled.

"I've never...done anything, with anyone, ever," Melanie said.

"We're not doing anything now," Lisa said, laughing, squeezing her hand, "but I'm not going to make you do something you don't want to."

Melanie stood up and started pacing. She grabbed the mug and continued drinking her tea before finally finishing it, setting the mug down and looking back at Lisa.

"Can we just...can we just lie on the couch, and can you just...hold me?" she asked.

"Yeah, we can do that," Lisa said.

She laid on the couch and waited for Melanie to climb on so she could spoon her. Once they'd assumed the comfortable position, Melanie shut her eyes and sighed. She hadn't been held like this since she was a child, since her father used to hold her after nightmares, and it felt so good to be held by someone again.

"When I was a little girl" she said, holding tightly to Lisa's hands, "my father used to take me to this park, and we'd used to toss quarters into a well because he told me that if I did, my wishes would come true. I think he wanted me to see the world as being more magical than it actually is. I don't blame him for that. But I knew it wasn't true once he was gone, and I spent so many quarters on that well wishing for him to come back."

"I'm so sorry," Lisa said quietly, pushing her face into the back of Melanie's neck, inhaling the scent of her shampoo.

"...thanks for making me not feel crazy," Melanie whispered.

"Anytime princess," Lisa mumbled.

                                                                                            ***

Darren was laying on the bed, reading a book, when Emma came in from the bathroom in her t-shirt and panties, blowdrying her hair. She stopped and looked at herself in the vanity mirror, thinking about what Rachel had said earlier as her eyes scanned up across the glass to watch Darren in its reflection. She smiled to herself. They were young. They still had time. No decision had to be made right now, and right now all that mattered was being together and making more memories, just in case they one day had nothing other than memories to look back on.

She turned and headed to the bed, crawling onto it and laying her head on his shoulder, making him chuckle and stroke her hair with his free hand.

"Hey," he said, "What are you doing?"

"Just...being here," she said.

Across town, Gus and Bea were watching shitty old horror movies on the television, having ordered in a lot of chicken wings and pizza. Bea was somewhat buzzed but not outright drunk, and Gus, as usual, hadn't had a drink all night. He'd really been trying hard, especially since being with her, and he appreciated that she didn't push him to partake in drinking alcoholic beverages with her. He was laying his head in her lap again, as her fingertips traced the curls of his bangs and his oversized glasses.

"You know this used to be my fantasy as a teenager," Gus said, "Cute drunk girl, chicken wings, bad film."

"Boy you had high hopes for the future," Bea said, making him laugh hard.

"...Melanie's become friends with this girl from group, and I don't...I don't know that she's a very good influence on her," Gus said, "I'm worried."

"We'll worry about it tomorrow," Beatrice said, "We deserve a night off."

"Yeah, I guess so," Gus said, sighing and kissing her hand, making her giggle.

She stood up and headed to the bedroom, giving him a look that clearly meant it was in his best interest to follow her. He stood up and followed as she pulled her shirt off in the hall, but he stopped and looked back at his front door. He hadn't heard her come home. He sighed. He knew he had to let it go. She was an adult. A sick adult, but an adult nonetheless, and while it was fine to worry, ultimately he had his own life to live. She'd be fine. She always was, after all, it seemed.

After all...

...princesses always get happy endings.

"Melanie?"

No response.

"Melanie? Sweetheart?" the voice asked again, this time catching her attention and bringing her back from her thoughts. Melanie glanced around at the group she was seated in a circle with, and the woman sitting near her with the clipboard, smiling at her, clearly attempting to involve her in the discussion. Melanie cleared her throat and stopped chewing on her nails. She was dressed in a knit turtleneck and jeans, and her hair was braided. She didn't look like the same woman who, just a handful of months ago, had been a disheveled, completely confused mess of a person.

"I...I don't really know what to say," she started.

"Well, just tell us how you're feeling," the woman said, "How has this week been?"

"This week? Just this week? Same as every week. Weird, and...not....right," Melanie said, "Nothing feels real anymore. I...I don't think this sort of thing is good for me, and I don't think this medication is working, nothing is working for me, only against me."

"Melanie," the woman, Roberta, leaned forward and cupped her hands in her lap, smiling as she added, "You were suggested to come to group therapy because it was considered better for you, socially, to be around others so you could see you weren't the only one struggling with things. Everyone here struggles with some kind of derealization, dissociation or some other variety of unreality disorder. You're among friends. So talk to us, tell us about you. Tell us how you were and how you've been."

"Uh," Mel said, clearing her throat, sitting back and folding her arms, clearly uncomfortable, "I'm...I was fine, before I was told to come here, but now everyone is telling me I'm incredibly sick, so, that's making me unhappy, ironically."

"What was wrong with you?" the teenage girl sitting beside her, her legs pulled up to her chest, asked.

"What wasn't wrong with me?" Mel sarcastically replied, "...I thought I was a princess. Not...not in the way a lot of girls say they're princesses, I mean a literal princess. I used to...I used to honestly believe that I came from a castle, and my father was the king, and that one day I'd return home after finding my prince charming. I see now that that was just a coping mechanism I used to work through the grief surrounding my fathers death. I liked princesses, he played into it, called me his princess, let me wear princess dresses whenever and wherever I wanted, and it just felt like the fairytale was better than reality."

A hush fell over the group, as Melanie lowered her head and whispered.

"Still probably would be too," she added.

She didn't speak for the rest of the meeting.

                                                                                             ***

"Look, they have donuts," Gus said, pointing at the table as they entered the room, making Beatrice smirk.

"Those are for addicts, dude," she said.

"I'm an addict. I'm addicted to donuts," Gus said, reaching for them before feeling Bea's hand on his arm, tugging him away from the table, chuckling to herself as they continued into the room, looking around for Melanie. Gus slid his hands in his pockets and exhaled.

"I've never been to something like this before," he said, "Like...have you? Can you give me some pointers?"

"Sure, what kind of pointers you want? Ones for a guest, or ones for a member? Because I've been both," Bea said, making Gus's eyebrow raise; she smirked and offered up an explanation, saying, "Before I became the Black Knight at the faire, I was just...you know...aimlessly drifting. Like...I had ideas of what I'd like to do, but what I really liked to do was get black out drunk and then call up people who had wronged me and let them have it. Obviously this isn't socially acceptable."

"I should think not, though it really should be," Gus replied.

"It should! Yes, thank you!" Bea said, laughing, "But as a guest, all you have to do is show up. Showing up at all is showing that you care. Though I gotta say...this is kind of a weird date."

"Is this a date?" Gus asked.

"I mean, did we not just have sex before we came here?" Bea asked.

"I like to think of it more as exercise," Gus said, making her laugh again, "Hey, there she is."

The two started walking over to where Mel was sitting, while all the other members of group had gotten up and begun to talk amongst themselves, almost in a party mingling manner, but Melanie clearly had no interest in doing such a thing. Gus and Bea sat beside her, each one in a chair on each side, and Gus slowly put his hand on her back, rubbing it gently.

"You guys don't think I'm crazy, right?" Melanie asked quietly, "I...I know I'm not well, but I'm not-"

"There's no stigma attached to being crazy, not any that's legitimate anyway," Bea said, "You're just you. Nothing wrong with having mental disorders, they're just a part of who you are. It's important to maintain them so you don't hurt yourself and don't hurt others, intentionally or otherwise, but they're not bad or wrong."

Mel rolled her head towards Bea and waited.

"...thank you," she said, "That...actually made me feel better."

Melanie stood up, excused herself to the restroom, and left them alone. Gus crossed his legs, folded his arms and looked at Bea with a smirk. She glanced over at him with an odd look on her face.

"What?" she asked, half laughing.

"Awww. You're empathetic, how pathetic," Gus said.

"You're such an ass," she laughed, leaning in and kissing him on the cheek.

The bathroom wasn't hard to find, especially now that she'd been coming here for a while. As she finished her duty and went to the sink to wash her hands, she heard a stall door open behind her, and turned her head to see another young woman, in dark green slacks and a plain black v-neck, her long curly auburn hair bouncing as she walked up to the sink herself and started washing her hands as well.

"They're wrong, you know," she said softly, "Those people in group. Reality isn't the only way to live."

"I believe that, but everyone wants me not to, and I'm tired of being a nuisance to everyone, so," Mel whispered.

"You're not a nuisance because you're sick," the woman said, "You're a nuisance because they're too close minded. I dealt with the same thing as you, actually. When I was a little girl, my dad used to read me bedtime stories filled with fantastical efforts about dragons and wizards and princesses, and then when he died, I just retreated into the safety of the worlds he showed me because it felt like he was still there somehow."

"I know what you mean," Melanie replied, turning the sink off and grabbing some paper towels, wiping her hands down; as she tossed them into the wastebasket, she turned back to the woman and added, "It's not denying reality, it's a coping mechanism, and aren't those healthy so long as you don't actively hurt others?"

"Exactly my point," the woman said, holding her hand out, "I'm Lisa, by the way. It's nice to meet you, your majesty."

"Hah! Likewise," Melanie said, shaking her hand.

Maybe Gus was right. Maybe coming to therapy wasn't all that bad after all.

                                                                                            ***

"What is this?" Emma asked, holding up a brochure.

Darren was stopped in his tracks, despite sitting at his desk in their home office, and sighed. He rubbed his forehead and then turned in his chair towards her. She was standing in the doorway, one hand on her hip and a look of irritant on her face.

"Listen," he started, but she quickly interrupted.

"Oh boy, anything that ever starts with 'listen' is never a good thing."

He chuckled and continued, "Seriously, it's just...something I wanted to discuss."

"You know I don't want a family," Emma said, "So what's left to discuss?"

"I thought, maybe, the problem was the actuality of getting pregnant and that, perhaps, if we adopted-"

"The problem isn't how to do it, it's doing it at all, how is that so complex to understand?" Emma asked, sounding annoyed. Darren sighed, stood up and walked to her, putting his arms around her and hugging her tight, kissing the top of her head.

"I won't bring it up again," he said quietly, "If you're really that certain, than it's a moot point."

"Thank you," she replied.

Darren wanted to make her happy...but at what cost? His own happiness? All these years they'd spent together, and now this one seemingly small difference might make the biggest rift between them? That seemed cosmically unfair, but he knew he loved her. He knew he wanted her far more than he wanted kids. Maybe, he hoped - despite knowing full well in the depth of his gut - that she'd come around one day, but if she didn't, could he live with the regret?

Only time would tell.

"I'm going to the store to get something for dinner," Emma said, backing away, "I'll be back in a bit."

"Alright," Darren said, sitting back down and watching her exit the room. When he heard the car start, and heard it drive off down the road, he did the only thing he could do at this point.

He wept like a child.

                                                                                            ***

As Melanie, Gus and Bea headed up the stairs to the level of their apartments, Melanie couldn't help but think about the woman she'd met in the bathroom, Lisa. She was saying the exact opposite of everything Melanie was being told was true, and yet she believed her moreso than those telling her the opposites. Melanie wasn't an idiot, she knew what confirmation bias was, but this was something deeper, something...something more real. She could hear Gus and Bea laughing behind her as they reached the landing, and headed to their respective apartments. Gus waved bye, opened the door and he and Bea vanished into his place, as Melanie struggled to find her keys.

A loud thump down the hall caught her attention, and she turned to see a man setting down a large box. He was an older man, somewhat balding, large thick rimmed glasses, but well dressed. She gave up on her attempts to find her key and instead headed down the hall towards him.

"Are you moving in?" she asked, "Do you want some help?"

"That would be absolutely appreciated, thank you so much," the man said, "I'm Allen."

"Melanie. I live just a few doors down," she said, turning and pointing to her own apartment, "Let me see what I can help you with."

After the two managed to bring in a collection of boxes, some light furniture and other miscellaneous things, the stood in the living room and admired the space. Melanie looked around, smiling as she felt the sun shine through the big open window and splash against her face.

"This is a really nice apartment," she said, "I just always assumed they were all the same."

"I'm lucky to get such a space for such a good price," Allen replied.

"What do you do?"

"I'm a photographer, you?"

"I'm..." but she stopped herself, cleared her throat and finished, "I'm between employment at the moment."

"Ah, well, best of luck to you then, it's bad out there lately," Allen said.

Melanie turned and began to head on out. As she pulled the door shut behind her, she saw Gus and Bea exiting his apartment, pulling their coats on. They stopped and Gus looked at her.

"We're going out for something to eat, you wanna come with?" he asked.

"Okay," she replied quietly.

"What were you doing over there?" he asked, as they headed down the stairs.

                                                                                             ***

The three of them sitting in a local nearby pizzeria, Melanie only really pecking at her food while the others engulfed their slices, Gus couldn't help but feel like something was bothering her, more than usual. He finished chewing, wiped his hands and mouth on a napkin, tossed it onto the table and adjusted his glasses, leaning forward.

"You look more depressed than normally," he said, "I know this whole therapy thing has been really weird for you, but...you know you can always talk to us."

"I know," Mel said, a slight smile dancing on her lips as he said this, before she exhaled deeply and added, "It's just so hard to know whether I'm getting better for the sake of others or my own."

"Can't it be both?" Bea asked.

"I mean, I guess, but...people say I'm getting, so why don't I feel any better?" she asked, and Gus sighed, scratching his cheek.

"I used to be a major alcoholic. It's kind of what broke up my family," Gus said, "Afterwards, I only drank even more heavily, until I moved into that apartment...until I met you. I don't think this applies to everyone going through recovery, but I think it helped me to have someone else to focus on. I made me realize I couldn't as regularly fulfill my own selfish desires because I needed to be there to help you, whether I wanted to or not, hah."

Bea smiled and put her hand on his back, rubbing it gently.

"You don't feel better because you aren't better. Once you get better, at least recognizably so, then you'll see just how far you've come, and you'll realize you feel like a much better person overall. You can take your life back from the thing that stole it. Right now? This isn't recovery. Recovery is at the end. Anything before that is just progress."

Melanie nodded. He made a lot of sense, and she wanted to believe him, truly she did, but she also couldn't help but think about how Lisa felt the same way. How Lisa had told her that she had every right to cling to the 'fantasy', as they called it, because in the end, why can't you have both? Why must one face reality with such little escapism?

"I'm gonna go get another slice," Gus said, standing up and leaving the table. As the girls watched him go, Bea then looked back at Melanie and smiled warmly.

"You know, he's a really good guy, and he really does care about you," she said.

"I know."

"And, because I care about him, I care about you too," Bea continued, "We're your friends, whether you're ill or not."

This made Melanie smile the widest she had all day.

As Gus approached the counter, drumming his fingers on the slate, he heard a familiar voice and looked to a few tables past the counter to see Chiako sitting there with....a man? Gus headed away from the counter and over towards their table, where, upon arrival, they both looked up at him. Chiako's eyebrows raised in surprise, and she stood up to hug him.

"Hey!" she said, her mouth half stuffed with pizza as she tried to finish chewing, "What're you doing here?"

"....eating...pizza?" he replied, making them both laugh.

"Stupid question, fair," Chiako said through laughter, "Uh, Gus, this is Jeremy, my...guy....I'm sleeping with but also have romantic feelings for."

"Boy," Gus said, sliding his hands in his pockets, "You sure know how to tug at the heartstrings. I just saw you here and I...I guess I didn't know you were, you know...seeing anyone, hah."

"Oh, actually, I'm going to need you to be with Leaf this coming week. We're going out of town, you're free right?"

"Look at how I'm dressed, does it look like I have social obligations?" Gus remarked, making even Jeremy laugh a little; Gus added, "Yeah, I'd love to see her, honestly. Anyway, I was getting another slice, I just wanted to see you for a moment."

"It's always nice running into you," Chiako said, "I'm glad you're doing well."

"Yeah," Gus said, glancing over his shoulder at Bea, "Yeah, me too."

                                                                                           ***

"People believe in God without any proof, because it brings them peace of mind, so as long as they don't use that belief to hurt others, what's the big goddamned deal with believing what we believe?" Lisa asked, the next time the two women found themselves in the bathroom before the meeting started.

"I guess maybe it depends on whether or not you acknowledge that your belief isn't real," Melanie said, sitting on the bathroom counter, chewing on her nails, "As long as you can tell the difference, then sure, what's the harm."

"Except there is no difference," Lisa said.

Melanie stopped chewing and looked at her. Lisa approached and put her hands on Mel's.

"There is no difference. Who's to say what reality is. They're all wrong, your highness. We're right. We're who we say we are, and we can prove it to them. Don't you want to help me help you prove that you really were a princess like me all along?"

Melanie looked into her eyes, and for the first time since starting therapy, she felt heard.

It just happened to be by the wrong person.

Boris stood in front of his mirror, staring at himself in his suit, his hands fidgeting with the neck of his tie.

He sighed, pulled his cap off and rested it on the table, trying to keep himself from crying. The door opened, and Father Krickett entered, shutting the door behind him. He turned and walked to Boris, putting his hands on the old mans shoulders, massaging him gently as he sighed.

"Everyone is seated," he said quietly, "You're doing a good thing you know. You were the only one here who ever really got close to her, you're the only one really capable of giving her a proper send off. You're gonna score big points with the man upstairs for this one."

"That's what matters, isn't it," Boris said, chuckling. Father Krickett turned and walked away into the room, looking around nonchalantly as Boris turned and leaned against the table the mirror was sitting on. He watched Father Krickett pace around, looking at general furnishings and what have you. Boris sucked his bottom lip for a moment, and then whistled. Father Krickett looked back at him, his attention gotten.

"Yes?" he asked.

"What's your first name? You've never told me your first name," Boris said, "If we're going to be friends, I think we should probably be on a first name basis by this point, don't you?"

"Makes sense to me My name is John," Father Krickett said, "anything else you'd like to know?"

"You always a priest?"

"Yeah I came out of the womb in this getup, actually," Father Krickett said, making Boris genuinely throw his head back with laughter; Krickett laughed a bit before adding, "Um, not always, I mean we've talked about this a bit, but, yeah. I just feel like it's the right path to be on right now."

"How do you not lose your faith, seeing all these horrible things in the world day in and day out? I mean surely you can't say murders or rapes 'happen for a reason' or are 'all parts of gods plan'. That's...that insinuates god enjoys us suffering, and that'd be real fuckin' sick," Boris said.

"Um, I mean you're not wrong, no, I think anyone who falls back on either of those sentiments needs to take a step back and reexamine their own worldview first and foremost, because we can't know how god feels about something. We can't just go ask him. We can assume he thinks the things we think are terrible are terrible, but there's no way to be certain. I guess in order to have faith you need to accept that most of life is completely incomprehensible to understanding to begin with. We laugh at absurdity, we fear things that make no sense and music has the ability to make us cry. Life appears to be nothing more than simply a series of unconnected events that eventually lead to a cohesive whole at the end of ones life, a whole that, hopefully, was worth experiencing. Keeping my faith is not so much in god as it is in the idea that the life I've been given was worth being given. That's what I'm faithful for. The hope that life is worth it, not that there's an afterlife."

Boris nodded, surprised by this incredibly complex and deeply profound answer from a man of the cloth. Usually, in his experiences, priests just gave nonsensical jargon that only further confused the issue, but John Krickett seemed to be the exact opposite; someone who could, and would, give you a down to earth answer for pie in the sky questions.

"...I miss her, John, I really...it hurts so much inside, like she filled a hole I didn't know need to be filled, and a hole that is now only grander in her absence," Boris said, rubbing at his chest.

"Grief is...the most powerful pain there is," Krickett said, shrugging as he approached Boris, hands clasped in front of him, "It's a way for us to hopefully process things that seem impossible to process and move forward in a way that makes some sort of sense. I can't tell you what you should do in order to work through this grief, that's your journey alone to make. But! I can tell you that it's something you absolutely are capable of working through. I'm not saying it'll be easy, or that the pain will ever completely subside, but it can be manageable, if nothing else, and I think that's worth looking forward to and making the effort for."

"...thanks John," Boris said, "I think I'm ready now."

Father Krickett nodded, and exited the room. Boris took one last look in the mirror, and then followed him out. As the two men headed down the hallway, towards the back door and out to the cemetery, Boris could see the crowd already looming. It looked like the entire home had turned out for the ceremony. Had Polly really known all these people all along, and just never said anything? Boris walked through the chairs, making his way to the podium, when he felt a hand grab his and he looked down to see Carol sitting there in her black dress, a large black sunhat sitting on her head.

"Hey there," he said, kneeling best he could for her, "How are you?"

"I wanted to ask you that question, you're the one who knew her after all," Carol said.

Boris glanced at the coffin and smirked, "I don't think anyone really knew her, and I think that's what made her interesting."

He stood up again and continued to the podium. Standing behind it, he adjusted his tie, cleared his throat and looked at his index cards, on which he'd written a speech.

"Looking out at the many faces that I recognize every day, I know now that I don't know almost any of you. How many years have we all lived together? Too many, honestly. Too many to not know one another better. What's the point of living in a communal space if we aren't interested in being a community? These past few months, hell almost the whole last year, Carol was renovating the home for us, because she thought we deserved something better, and I think she's right, and I think we shouldn't feel ashamed for admitting that. And you know who never felt ashamed? Polly Hawkins. This woman right here in this box, a box that frankly is too good even for her and that's something she herself would admit, was not ashamed for admitting who she was and thinking she deserved more."

A light bit of laughter spread through the crowd, as Boris looked at his cards and then looked back at the coffin and sighed. He set his cards down, and picked up the microphone, removing it from the stand it sat on, and began walking across the lawn with it, back and forth in front of the coffin.

"Fuck formality. We're old. We don't need to be formal anymore. Polly was...amazing. She was a pain in the ass, granted, and she herself would cop to that, but lord was that woman incredible. She made me feel more connected to a person in the short time I knew her than anyone else ever has. I used to feel like I didn't deserve friendship, like I didn't deserve...anything. But Polly, the mess she was, thought she deserved it all. She was our age, and yet unburdened by the fact that she was as old as we are. She never thought of herself as old. This allowed her to truly continue to live life. She..."

He stopped and choked back some tears, running his hand on the white casket with black trim, before squeezing the mic tightly, his knuckles whitening, and continued.

"...she should be an inspiration, if nothing else, to how to approach your senior years. To approach them no differently than any other decade of your life. Who the fuck decided that by the time you were 70 you were supposed to slow down, chill out and be wise? Why can't old people be fucking messes? Why can't old people continue to wreck themselves the way those in their 20s do? And I don't just mean with drugs and alcohol, though Polly can attest that that's also worth it, even if it's what killed her-"

More laughter, this time louder.

"-no, I mean emotional messes, people who don't have their shit together emotionally. Why are our lives supposed to be clean at the end? Who said that life was only for the young? Polly drove a fucking Gremlin. She stole pills from the nurses station and she gambled like there was no tomorrow. But she wasn't stupid. A tad reckless, perhaps, but not stupid. And wiser than any of us combined. That's why I think it's so unfair that she went before we did. This woman, this woman who had...still had so much....so much life to live, and so much advice to give, even if it was advice she herself would stupidly never follow, was cut short in honestly the prime of her life. That doesn't seem fair. And I think we owe it to Polly to stick the course, honor her memory and just fuck things up as much as we can. There's no statute of limitations on living, except perhaps the inevitable expiration date. I'm not telling you to abuse medication or drink when your doctor has recommended that you don't, no, but I am telling you that there's no time like today, right fucking now, to do something you always wanted to do. Just because you're old doesn't mean you can't accomplish it. We've had a lifetime to accomplish things, and we still have more time to spare."

Boris stopped and leaned against the coffin, patting it with his hand. He sighed heavily and shook his head.

"I'm glad I got to spend Polly's last moments with her. I wouldn't change that for anything in the world, except perhaps having her back, obviously."

More laughter, this time with real genuine love in it.

"Polly fought with me from the first day we met, and she never let up, even after we became friends. She was, if nothing else, a fucking nuisance."

Some clapping and true guffawing occurred.

"But she was OUR fucking nuisance," Boris said, "And I am sure as shit gonna miss having her prod me to do more, and be more, than I think I am capable of. She lit a fire in me that I won't ever allow to extinguish. Maybe I can do the same to all of you. But I'm going to need your cooperation. So, who's interested in making the most of the time they have left? Show of hands."

A flurry of hands went up, and cheering ensued. Boris grinned as he looked back at the coffin, and, raising the mic to his lips, quietly said

"See, you were liked by everyone after all."

                                                                                            ***

Sitting in a pizzeria long after the funeral had finished, Boris - biting into the third slice he'd pulled from the pie as Father Krickett sipped his soda across the table from him - couldn't help but feel like more should've been done today. Despite doing the eulogy, which then turned into somewhat of a roast, and successfully at that, Boris felt like there was something else he should've tackled.

"You know," Krickett said, wiping his mouth, "I think what you said today really struck a chord with everyone. Experts say that the worst thing that a person can do is retire, because once you have nothing to drive you, you slip away easier."

"Are these experts other old people? Because frankly I'd only trust people who've experienced it firsthand to be experts at it," Boris said, making Krickett smirk.

"I'm just saying that people who have a thing to work towards tend to live longer," Father Krickett said, "and I think you easily might've pushed everyone today, via the advice of Polly, to get something that helps them live longer. A goal of kind or another, something to work on. You know what I mean?"

"Did I ever tell you I write poetry?"

"I think you may have mentioned it, yes."

"I think...I think I'd like to look into doing it again, with more regularity, more...sincere publishing attempts," Boris said, surprising Krickett, who cocked an eyebrow at this admittance; Boris continued, "It's one of if not the only real way I can truly express internally how I feel externally."

"I'm all for that, and I'll read whatever you give me if you want feedback of any kind," Krickett said, stealing a slice from the pie for himself, licking the grease from his fingers as he plopped it down onto his paper plate and adding, "...Boris, I have to ask...you're going to be okay, right?"

"I'll manage," Boris said, wiping his mouth on his napkin, "It'll be hard, but like you said, the grief is my own to work through, and perhaps poetry is the way to work through it."

So the two men sat in the pizzeria and ate and laughed and talked about all the plans for the upcoming years. About the things they both wanted to accomplish, and about the people they wanted to become as they grew. Afterwards, Father Krickett drove Boris back to the apartment and said goodnight to him. As Boris entered, he removed his coat and cap and hung them on the rack by the door before heading into the kitchen, where he found a note on the table. He picked it up and unfolded it, it appeared to be from Whittle.

"Boris, someone came by this afternoon, said they were an attorney for Polly. She didn't have much to her name, but there's something for you downstairs."

Boris walked briskly to the door, opened it and headed back downstairs. Upon exiting the apartment building, he spotted Carol and Burt standing next to Polly's Gremlin, as Carol spun the keys around on her finger. Boris slid his hands into his pants pockets and strolled over to them, Burt sliding off the hood and into the car as Carol grinned.

"Get in, loser," she said, "I saw how you drank at the funeral, so I won't be letting you drive tonight."

"That's fine," Boris said, chuckling as Carol walked around to the drivers side and Boris opened the passenger door. He stopped, put his hand on the top of the car and exhaled. He shut his eyes, patted the roof of the car, and then got in.

No matter what, he knew now, Polly would always be in his life.

When was the last time Polly had sat down at the nickel slots?

God, it must've been the first week after losing Jean. She drove to a nearby casino and spent hours sitting in front of the nickel slots and drinking herself into a stupor, pushing coin after coin after coin into the little machine, trying not to cry and thinking about how utterly alone she felt. Eventually she realized that throwing money away wasn't the best way to cope with her grief, which lead her down the path to living in the nursing home. But now, sitting here again, the sound of the machines ringing in her ears while vodka slipped down her throat, Polly couldn't imagine a better place to be...

...or a better person to be there with.

She grinned as she turned and glanced at Boris, who was also pulling his lever for another spin and finished his drink, setting it down nimbly on the tray between them.

"This is my idea of a good time," Polly said, "You know what pain is. You know what loss is. You of all people know how much it hurts to lose something you so desperately want-"

"It's all my life has ever been," Boris said, interrupting her.

"Exactly! So you're the one I'm glad to be doing this with," Polly said, "Those other guys, Carol and Burt and Larry, don't get me wrong they're great company, but they don't know the feeling the same way we do. When you lose someone you love so much that it feels as though a part of yourself has just been torn from you, how do you move on? You spend the remainder of your life feeling like half a person. It's a gut wrenching feeling."

"Can I have another Valium?" Boris asked, holding out his hand as he waited for Polly to fish her pill case from her coat pocket and plop one into his palm. He swallowed it instantly and refocused back on the machine as she took one herself.

"There's no aspect of life that cannot be improved by throwing money away," Polly said, "People are far too financially cautious these days. Stock options, investments, bull pucky. Take a chance, have some fun, just throw some cash away at a machine for a few hours. You only live once, you may as well enjoy the money you have instead of the money you'll likely never receive!"

"Hear hear!" Boris said, raising another glass with drink in it, taking a long sip. Afterwards he belched and adjusted the cap on his head before adding, "What good is life if you can't even enjoy it? Continuing to lose the ones you care about, and then being told to just make new connections, new friends. Why? You're just gonna lose them too! It's all garbage. Eventually we all rot and none of it matters, so you may as well, as you said, make the most of it while you have the chance to do so."

Polly nodded, popped another quarter in the machine and pulled again. The lights around her machine lit up and it started blaring music at her. Her eyes widened and she almost hopped off her stool, much as a woman her age could hop, throwing her arms up in the air.

"I won! I hit a jackpot!" she screeched, "I mean, only a few hundred dollars, but hell yes!"

Boris stood up and throw his arms around her, the two of them laughing and dancing in front of their machines, as other casino goes surrounding them cheered them on. Yes. It had been a very good day for boris and Polly, which was great, because by the following morning, it would be the worst day of their lives.

                                                                                                  ***

"Do you want to tell me what happened?" Father Krickett asked, standing in Boris's room as he watched the old man sink into his rocking chair, his face stained with tears. Boris didn't respond. Krickett approached, knelt and placed his hand on Boris's knee. Boris finally looked at him somewhat.

"You know what happened," he said weakly, his voice hoarse.

"I want to hear it from you," Father Krickett replied, "Coming from you makes it real. You need to say it, for closure."

"...it wasn't my fault," Boris whimpered, his eyes swelling up with more tears as he chewed on his lip.

"Nothing that's happened has been your fault, Boris," Father Krickett said, "Hey, buddy, nobody is going to blame you, okay? We all just want a clear picture of the situation and what lead you two to that moment, alright? We need information. I trust you, Boris, you're my friend, and I want to help you. Those officers out there? They aren't your friend. They aren't anybody's friend but their own. But even they recognize what happened isn't your fault, and they just want the truth. Tell me the truth. I'm your friend."

A long pause entered the conversation, as Boris inhaled through his gritted teeth and he blinked a few times.

"...Carol had caught her months ago, taking medication from the nurses station," Boris said, "I didn't think twice about taking it. We didn't even stop to consider whether or not we should be taking it with alcohol. We were just so...so fucking angry at everything."

"I understand that," Krickett said, "Anger can make people do terrible things. Many things done in the name of God have been under the sentiment of anger. You don't have to tell me twice about what being angry can make a man do."

"She was the angry one. I just wanted to be numb," Boris said, "...when can I see her?"

"She's just down the hall, man. Just in another room, we'll go see her after this, okay?" Krickett asked, and Boris nodded.

"I need to apologize," he said, "I need her to hear that I'm sorry."

"I'm sure she'll appreciate that," Krickett remarked, smiling sweetly at the old man.

                                                                                                  ***

Sitting in an upscale restaurant, having a fancy dinner with her winnings, Polly couldn't help but feel out of place. This was never the sort of place she and Jean frequented, and she certainly fit in even less now being the age she was. Boris, seated across from her, was cleaning his teeth with a toothpick as they waited for their main courses to arrive. Polly looked up from her menu across to his face, and she shook her head slightly.

"Can I tell you a secret?" she whispered, and he nodded.

"Please, do," he replied.

"I fucking hate places like this," she said, smirking, "These fancy high class restaurants where everyone acts so high and mighty, like they're the cream of the crop when really they're the bottom of the barrel. The absolute lowest scum of the earth. All their personality is wrapped up in money and fancy belongings and cocktail parties where they compare their childrens academic achievements the same way one compares a sports teams stats. It's sickening. Give me a dank old bar any day."

"Well then what are we doing here if you hate this environment so much?" Boris asked, and Polly chuckled.

"I guess every now and then you need to insert a bit of class into your life, even if it isn't entirely who you are. Plus, they're supposed to make an excellent steak. One of the bartenders at the casino recommended it for their grilling," Polly replied as she stirred the tiny plastic sword in her drink round in circles, making the ice clink against the glass; she rested her cheek on her other fist, elbow posted up on the table, and sighed, continuing, "I used to think the best thing in life was sharing it with other people. I don't know that I think that anymore. Now I think the best thing in life is sharing it with the right people. Not just anyone, but someone in particular. Someone who really understands you and gets what you're all about. Not just someone who happens to be in the same vicinity as you. That's why so many marriages of our generation failed, because people married for the sake of not being lonely."

"Amen," Boris said, "I'm not saying I hate Lorraine, but I do think we got married primarily because it was what was expected of us. I can only say I'm so happy for Chrissy's generation, that that expectation has been not just shattered but laughed out of the room even. I'm not saying I don't believe in marriage, but I don't believe in it for the sake of marriage because it's what society thinks you're supposed to do at a certain age. You don't have to get married to prove your love, but if you want to, then by all means, go ahead. I think it can be a beautiful thing when done properly."

He stuffed a small garlic stick in his mouth and then heard sniffling. He looked up, still mid chew, to see Polly trying not to cry.

"I never got to get married. We called one another 'wife' but it was never official. I'm so simultaneously angry and overjoyed for queer kids these days who get to grow up in a world where their love is more recognized than it is shunned. Certainly wasn't that way for me. I'm proud to be part of the generation that broke the barrier, but I'm also so mad that I don't have what they get. My whole life, all because I was born at just the wrong moment in time, has been nothing more than a blueprint for everyone who comes after, and that feels unjust," she said, wiping her eyes on her sleeve and then setting her hand on the table as Boris leaned across and held it gently; she smiled and said, "After all, what good even is a life if you didn't actually live it?"

Boris nodded, understanding. He sighed and looked at the ring on her hand, a ring he'd seen time and time again but had never put together before that it might've meant something more than just a ring. It must've been a band between her and Jean.

"You know," Boris said, his voice somewhat slurred from the combination of alcohol and pills, "...I'm sorry I was so mean to you all these years at the home. I never really even took the time to learn about you, and I'm glad I got that chance now. Everyone has a story to tell."

"Some people's aren't worth hearing," Polly mumbled, pulling her hand away and taking the ring off her finger before reaching back, opening his palm up and placing it in there, shutting his fingers around it as she added, "Pawn this for me. Keep the money for yourself, I just want it gone. I can't continue to live with a daily reminder of my grief, even if it's disguised as love."

Boris put his hand in his coat pocket and nodded solemnly. Thankfully, the waiter showed up with their meals seconds later, and the two didn't have to speak much throughout eating.

                                                                                                ***

"You never stopped her though," Krickett said, "You never told her that maybe doing what you guys were doing, what she was doing in particular with pills, might be a bad idea."

"No, I didn't, you're right," Boris said as the two strolled down the long white hallway, his hands dug deep in his pants pockets, "But even if I had, I doubt she would've listened."

"She listens to you," Krickett said, "You're probably the closest she's ever come to listening to anyone in her time at the home."

"She was going to do what she was going to do," Boris said, "I just...got dragged along with her, encouraging it, much to my future embarrassment. I just hope she'll forgive me. I need her to forgive me. It's the only thing that will allow me to move past what we did."

"I'm sure she will," Krickett said, smiling as they approached the room. The two men stopped and turned to look at one another. Boris exhaled and looked at the door, then back at the young priest.

"I need to do this alone," he said, "You understand."

"I get it. Do what you need to. I'll be here when you're done," he said, "I'm sure she'll be glad to see you after this whole ordeal."

With that, Boris opened the door, entered, and shut the door behind him.

                                                                                               ***

The hotel room was fancy.

Spacious, well decorated and, because of these reasons, it felt like the very sort of place both would hate for differing reasons. As Boris raided the minibar, Polly stood in front of the bathroom mirror, brushing her hair and taking stock of how their bender had thusfar affected her. She was feeling dizzy and lightheaded, but she was at least enjoying herself, even if she now felt somewhat sick. She reached into her purse, pulled out her pill case and removed three more serious painkillers, setting them on the bathroom counter in front of her. She knew she'd have to split them with Boris, but she didn't want to watch him damage himself any more than he already had. After all, he had Whittle, he had Chrissy, he had Father Krickett, and now his daughter - even with her memory problems - was awake once again.

What did she have?

She had a fucking hot tub.

Polly took one of the plastic wrapped cups from off the top of the stack on the counter, released it from its prison and filled it with water from the sink before swallowing all three pills herself, and then shaking her head, looking at herself in the mirror once again. She looked down at the bathroom counter, at her chipped nail polish, and she shut her eyes, exhaling deeply. When she looked back up at the mirror, she spotted Boris standing in the doorframe behind her, and she yelped.

"Don't do that, it's extremely creepy!" she said loudly, almost laughing, a hand to her chest as he chuckled and shook a bottle at her.

"Want some?" he asked, "It's Peach flavored."

"I hate peaches," Polly said.

"Pffft, what kind of lesbian are you?" Boris asked, the both of them laughing as Polly sat on the side of the bathtub and held her plastic cup in her hand, twirling it momentarily before extending it out, asking to be filled. Boris gladly filled her cup, and then seated himself beside her as she lifted the cup to her lips and drank.

"What's the plan for tomorrow?" Boris asked after taking a swig himself straight from the bottle, "Any idea?"

"I never plan for tomorrow," Polly said, "I'm always surprised I make it through today. Why plan for something that isn't a sure thing."

"How very zen of you," Boris said as she drank more from the cup, and then slipped back into the dry bathtub, laughing hysterically. He scooted himself into the tub and put his arm around her shoulder, pulling her head to his shoulder.

"...you don't know how lucky you are," she whispered, "To have something to go back to. I know it isn't perfect, but you have things that could improve your life. What do I got? I got a big ol' bucket of hot water. Really something worth sticking around for."

"You got me," Boris said.

"I guess," Polly said, "But you can't base your entire life around a friend. Not when you have so much fuller things to base your life around. I think that's what I've discovered about myself throughout my life. I'm just...a passerby. I'm not meant to stick around too long in peoples lives."

"That's not-" Boris started, before burping and covering his mouth with his arm, "-that's not true at all! Why would you think that?"

"Everyone leaves sooner or later. That's the thing being at that home has taught me more than anything else. Nothing is eternal except the ending," Polly said, "...when I was young, I could never foresee myself being old, and once I got older, I couldn't believe how quickly it happened, almost overnight in an instant. It made no sense. Yet, here we are, at the end of our lives, a moment we all must face, a moment that really - no matter how vastly different we may be in life - brings us all together and makes us all the same in death."

Boris sighed and leaned his head back, exhaling loudly.

"Damn," he said quietly, "What a bummer."

Polly rested her head on his shoulder again and shut her eyes.

"Boris?" she asked.

"Yeah?"

"Don't let them make fun of me," she whispered, and he nodded.

"It won't be for a long time, but sure, I won't let them make fun of you."

"Only you get to do that."

Boris smirked and drifted off to sleep. When he awoke hours later, his back was killing him, the room was somewhat spinning, and he had a pounding headache. He groaned as he shifted in the bathtub and tried to climb out, only to steady himself on Polly's shoulder to do so, and once he'd gotten out of the tub he reached back in and grabbed her hand.

"Hey," he said, "Wake up. Wake up, it's really..."

She was cold.

"...late."

A darkness washed over the room. Boris squeezed her hand, and knelt on the bathroom floormat, leaning over the side of the tub and putting his fingers to her neck. There was no pulse. He quickly stood up, best as he could, and rushed to call an ambulance. Sitting there in the ambulance with her, as they raced her to a nearby hospital, Boris couldn't help but kiss her hands and cry, begging her to stay with him. It wasn't until he called Father Krickett at the hospital that the cops showed up as well, and Boris had to relay the whole tale to Father Krickett, who was the only one he knew wouldn't judge him.

God bless that man, he thought.

                                                                                              ***

Boris shut the door behind him and looked around the room, sighing.

He started to walk across the room, towards where Polly was laying, and he smiled.

"Hey," he said, "It's good to see you. Um, I just wanted to say that I'm sorry. I'm sorry that I encouraged us to do what we did, and that...and that I didn't stop it sooner. I just felt like we both needed to let loose a bit. Didn't know how loose we'd gotten until that morning. You were right, you know. I mean, about having things to live for. But...you were one of those things too. I think the friendship we had was maybe the most real friendship I've ever had, and I...I'll never be able to thank you enough for putting me through it."

He felt himself choking up as his fingertips played around with something in his coat pocket. He pulled it out and looked at it.

"I still have your ring, you know," he said, trying to smile, though the pain was making it difficult, "I uh...I don't think I'll pawn it. I think I'll hold onto it. That way I...I'll always have you around."

He looked at Polly's lifeless body on the metal slab, still fully clothed, and he sighed heavily, his chest shaking. He slipped the ring on his own finger, and then he picked up her cold hand and put it to his cheek, shutting his eyes, tears rolling down his cheeks.

"I'm so sorry," he whispered, "I'm so...so sorry, Polly. You were the best of us all. I just....I'm glad you got to go with me and not alone."

It was then, in that very small, cold lifeless room, that he finally knew, from that moment on, nothing would ever go back to how it had been.

                                                                                                  ***

"You know what's awful about this pudding?" Boris asked as he sat at the cafeteria table with Carol and Burt the first week he was there, "other than it's just plain terrible? It doesn't have that skin. Pudding that doesn't have skin is the worst pudding."

"You like your pudding to be as aged as you, huh?" Polly shouted, a few tables down, getting his attention.

"Shut up, Polly!" he replied, the both of them quietly laughing to themselves.

The best kind of friendship, after all, is the one where you never have to acknowledge you were friends to begin with.

Standing outside in the hall, staring at the door he'd passed through a million times before, Boris couldn't help but feel...odd. Father Krickett stood right beside him, hand on his shoulder, grind on his face. Boris turned and looked at the priest - his diamond blue eyes and his ruffly blonde hair - and wanted to feel something, but he couldn't. He didn't know what to feel. All this time he'd waited for this moment, for his daughter to wake back up, and yet here that very moment was and he wasn't sure how to broach it.

"Just go in," Krickett said, "I'm sure she'll be glad to see you."

"I just...I feel so awkward," Boris replied, "It's been so long. She's been in a coma for...for so long now."

"I know, but think of it as a new beginning," Krickett said, "Everything will be fresh and-"

The door opened, and a nurse walked out. She stopped and looked at the two men as she held the bedpan in her hands. After a moment she cleared her throat and spoke.

"Are you the father?" she asked.

"Yes," they both replied.

"No, the father of the girl, not a...nevermind," the nurse said, making them chuckle as she continued, "Um, she's awake, but...well, you should walk with me a ways and let me explain the situation."

Boris and Krickett followed the nurse, whose nametag read 'Jenny', down the hall as she took the bedpan to the bathroom.

"She's fine, right?" Boris asked, "I mean, there weren't any other complications were there?"

"No, she's perfectly fine, physically. She's going to require a few months of physical therapy to relearn how to walk, but otherwise she'll good as new. The issue isn't her body. The issue is her mind," Nurse Jenny said.

"How so?" Krickett asked, putting his hands in his coat pockets.

"Well, the coma has left her rather...scattered. This is normal, it happens to many people who awaken from comas. They don't really remember things from before. A lot of times they get their memory back, but...sometimes they don't ever regain it. Right now she's very coherent, she's very with it, and that's a good sign, it means her brain activity is normal. But she doesn't seem to remember her family," Nurse Jenny said, dumping the bedpan in a toilet and then turning to the men as she leaned against the stall wall.

"What...what do you mean she doesn't...you mean she doesn't know who her mother and I are?" Boris asked, "Is that...is that what you're telling me?"

"Again, sir, it's common," Nurse Jenny replied, waving a hand and trying to quell his upset, "And a lot of times, hell likely most of the time, their memory returns over time. So you have nothing really to worry about, because she'll probably be okay, but you should prepare just for the off chance that she doesn't. Trying to form a family with someone who doesn't know they're family with you is tough for most people, and often times they rarely get back to the state of family they'd once had."

"So, what...what do I do?" Boris asked as they began to exit the bathroom.

"Honestly, my professional medical advice? Just listen. Be there. That's all you really can do," Nurse Jenny said, "I have to get back and empty more bedpans. You fellas need any help, there's other nurses around."

With that she turned and headed down the hall, leaving Boris and Krickett standing there together, surprised. Boris looked at Krickett, who scratched his forehead and exhaled, pushing up his glasses with his other hand.

"So..." Krickett said, "Should we go in?"

                                                                                             ***

Polly was lying in her bed, staring at the ceiling, when her door opened and Carol was standing there. Carol glanced in and looked around, and - upon noticing the completed hot tub - smiled as she looked back at Polly.

"It looks good, she did a good job!" Carol said, "Have you seen Boris?"

"Not since yesterday," Polly said, "...why did you send her here?"

"What?"

"That woman, the one who installed my hot tub, why did you send her here?" Polly asked, not looking at Carol, still not even sitting up from the bed. Carol tapped her nails on the side of the door and sucked on her tongue, thinking.

"I guess because I wanted you to feel like you mattered too," Carol said, "That you were our friend, and I figured it'd make you feel better to be around a pretty young woman. Make you not feel so...old."

"...do you ever think you might fall in love again, Carol?" Polly asked, her genuineness catching Carol by surprise.

"I...I mean, anything is possible, I suppose, but-"

"You and Boris seem friendly enough."

"Boris?! Please, hah, that's a riot, dear. No, Boris is nothing but a curmudgeonly amusement," Carol said, "He's a nice guy, he's entertaining, but he's not my type in the slightest. I won't lie and say I don't feel anything for him, because I do, but it's...familial, you know what I mean? Boris makes me feel like I haven't lost everyone in my family, in my life, because he makes me feel like a family member."

Polly nodded and smirked a bit.

"Yeah, I guess I understand that," she said.

"Well, if you happen to see that sack of family garbage, point him my way," Carol said, as she exited, pulling Polly's door shut behind her. Polly finally sat up and looked at the hot tub. Had having that young woman around made Polly feel better about herself? That she wasn't sure of, but what she was sure of was that Carol was right, and she felt like she finally belonged to their group, and that Boris especially felt comforting, like a family member you just liked to be around.

Still...she couldn't help but feel like something else was missing in her life, something she'd once had and now longed for yet again. Something like love. And here she was, at the end of her life - presumably - with so much love to give.

And no woman to give it to.

The thought just made her want to drink.

                                                                                                 ***

Boris and Father Krickett entered the room and Ellen smiled at them as they strolled inside. As Boris sat in a chair by the bed, and Krickett stood by the window, Ellen watched them closely, as if she didn't trust them, let alone know them. Boris ran his hands down his tweed coat and adjusted the cap on his head.

"Um, it's been a while," Boris said.

"That's what they tell me," Ellen replied, making Boris chuckle as she added, "I'm...I'm sorry, I don't know you. They say you're my father, but I just...I don't really remember much of anything."

"That's perfectly normal. Your memory will likely return the longer you're awake, especially with the aide of therapy," Father Krickett said, "Your mother should be along shortly, she was stopping by the restroom when we entered, so."

"And you are?" Ellen asked, turning to Krickett, "A priest?"

"I am indeed a priest, yes, but I am also a friend of your fathers," Krickett replied, "Do you remember why you wound up in a coma? Have they at least informed you of anything in regards to that?"

"I remember I was having a surgery, but...otherwise, not really, sorry," Ellen said, looking ashamed.

"Sweetheart, don't be glum about it, it's...these things happen, it'll take time but you'll come back to it," Boris said, making her smile. The door opened and Lorraine entered, pushing something into her purse and apologizing for taking so long before putting her arms around Ellen and squeezing her tight. As the hug ended, Boris found himself getting up and ushering Lorraine out of the room, back into the hospital hallway.

"What is it?" Lorraine asked, as he shut the door behind them.

"She doesn't remember us," Boris said, "The coma has given her amnesia. Now, they tell me that if we just work with her, get her into therapy, then perhaps we can help her restore it, but for the time being, she doesn't really know who we are."

"I bet you're happy about that, aren't you?" Lorraine asked, surprising him.

"The hell's that supposed to mean?" Boris asked, his voice growling.

"Oh please, come off it, you've always wanted a second chance. After all, isn't that what the whole business with that school girl you're housing all about? Aren't you just really substituting her for your own failures and shortcomings as a father?"

"How dare you!" Boris replied, snarling now, "I'm doing that because that girl deserves a better home life than the one she had! Every child does!"

"Please, you're simply alleviating yourself of any guilt or responsibility," Lorraine said, "And I understand, Boris, I really do, because, god knows...it isn't easy to live with the things that have happened to us as a family unit. But at least don't try and pretend that isn't what you're doing, that's more shameful than doing it to begin with."

"You don't know anything about me," Boris said, his voice growing quieter, but angrier, "You live in your fancy condo and I subjected myself to living in a nursing home so I could maybe learn to understand how to be friends with people. But you just...you stayed the same while I adapted and grew. You stayed stagnant, and now you're saying I'm the one being selfish?"

"Not selfish, no," Lorraine said, "God, no, um...I don't know what the word is, but I understand why you're doing this. You want to rebuild your relationship with Ellen, but an Ellen who doesn't remember the accident, who doesn't remember you caused it, who doesn't hold any grudge against you for the loss of her legs. And I understand why you'd do that, I really truly do, but-"

"You're unbelievable," Boris said, as the door opened and Krickett stepped out.

"Are we okay out here?" he asked.

"Ask Miss High & Mighty," Boris said, waving his hand at his wife.

"Mrs. High & Mighty, is it?" Krickett said, turning to face her, "Mr. High & Mighty here seems to think there's a problem."

Lorraine smirked at Krickett's attempt at humor and sighed.

"He's completely impossible to talk to, always has been, always states nobody understands who he is or how he really feels or thinks," Lorraine said, "All I was saying was I understand if he's happy about Ellen's memory being wiped, because he gets a fresh start now, a clean slate, to build something new with her. Something not so tainted by her anger towards him for her disability."

"I didn't cause the accident because I was mad at her about Soccer practice," Boris said, turning and pointing at Lorraine, "I was never mad at her, I understood why she felt the way she did, hell, I was never big into team sports myself and it wasn't until living in the home that I finally learned how to cooperate with others and be friends with people! No, I was never mad at her. I was mad at YOU. You pushed her into playing team sports when she so clearly didn't want to, and I was distracted because she...she sounded so much like you that it...it threw me, and I snapped, and I wasn't paying attention to the road."

Lorraine stared at him.

"What...what are you saying?" Lorraine asked.

"I'm saying you are a bad person, and a bad mother, and a bad wife," Boris snarled, "That you pushed her to be interested in things she was never interested in, and then punished her when she wouldn't comply, and you pushed me to be just like you even though I'm nothing like you. She didn't have parents, she had hostage negotiators, and frankly, maybe you're right...maybe I am glad she doesn't remember us, but certainly not for my sake. For hers. She shouldn't have to remember people who made her youth so painful."

Boris turned and started to storm off down the hall, as Krickett started after him.

"Boris, maybe just come back and-"

"Leave me alone!" he shouted, tearing away from the priest and heading through the doors into the stairwell. Only one person could understand how he felt, and he had to see her.

                                                                                                 ***

Polly was seated in her hot tub, in an old one piece swimsuit she'd had for years. As she leaned against the bubble jets and felt them relieve tension in her lower back, she lifted the cigar to her lips and inhaled. She blew the smoke out and then lifted the small cup of scotch to her lips and sipped, just as the door opened and Boris stumbled inside.

"Hello there," she said.

"...let's get drunk," Boris said.

"Waaaay ahead of you, pal," Polly said, lifting her glass.

Boris snatched the bottle from the side of the hot tub and drank some, then wiped his lips on his arm and looked at her.

"People are...shit," Boris said, "Just utter shit. You think you're on the right path, you think you're becoming a better more understanding person, and what do they do to you? They hit you so hard that you fall off said path and go back to the bad person you used to be. The bad person you worked so hard to stop being. People are garbage."

"Amen to that," Polly said, taking another puff, "It just seems like being the worst version of yourself is so much more fun, and easy, considering that's what everyone wants us to be."

"Then let's be the worst versions of ourselves," Boris said.

"What are you thinking?"

"I'm thinking we get in your car," Boris said, climbing into the hot tub still in his clothes and looking down at her, "And we drive to a casino, and we gamble until we're flat broke, and we take all sorts of pills. You still got pills, right?"

"Got all kinds, pal," Polly said.

"Good," Boris said, "Let's get fucked up."

Boris had a horrible nightmare that night, one so bad that it woke him up and sent him to the kitchen for a glass of whiskey to calm his nerves. As he yanked the bottle out from the cabinet and poured himself a small glass, he sat down at the table and sipped from the glass gingerly, savoring the ease it brought him in this moment of pain. He groaned and rubbed his back, which was having a rather nasty habit of hurting more and more lately. After he finished the drink, he put everything back and laid back down in bed, thinking about the dream.

A dream which would soon be a reality.

                                                                                              ***

"What do you mean?" Boris asked, sitting at the table as Chrissy ate breakfast.

"My grandpa is in town and he's coming to see me," Chrissy repeated, scooping up some cereal and eating it, continuing after she'd finished chewing, "he's going to come here and get me and take me somewhere to get something to eat."

"Well that sounds nice," Whittle said, standing behind Boris and stirring sugar into her coffee with a small spoon, adding after taking a sip, "Why are you okay with seeing him and not your parents?"

"Because grandpa was always nice to me," Chrissy said, "Grandma's been dead for a long time, so I was always the focus of his attention, and he, unlike my parents, wasn't dealing with something stupid like a relationship."

"Fair enough," Whittle said, stepping away and getting a carton of eggs from the fridge. Boris pulled his cap off and scratched the small bald spot on his head before putting his cap back on and readjusting it to fit correctly. He took a sip of his coffee and then took a bite of his toast before he looked back at Chrissy and sighed.

"Well," he said, "If anything comes up, you know you can call us and we'll come get you."

"I know, thank you. We're just going to the park across from the school," Chrissy said, "But I think it'll be okay. I have to get ready for school."

Chrissy took her dishes to the sink, washed them and then headed to her bedroom, leaving Boris and Whittle alone. Whittle sat down across from Boris and sipped her coffee as her stove heated up so she could cook them eggs. She smiled at him and raised an eyebrow.

"You okay, man?" she asked.

"I just...I'm surprised is all," Boris said, "She always made it like she didn't have anyone in her family, and that we were her family, and now-"

"What're you scared of being replaced? Boris, we're not blood related to her but we give her a stable home, and in the long term, that's what she'll really remember and truly appreciate is having had a safe place to grow up in. She has every right to see her grandfather. I'm happy she has someone from her family," Whittle said, "I hate that I'm not close to anyone in my family."

"You're not?"

"You see my mom coming around?" she asked, and Boris grunted. She had a point. Just then there was a knock at the door and Whittle groaned as she got back up and went to answer it. She opened the door to Polly, who eagerly invited herself inside and plopped a small white paper bag down on the kitchen table as she went to pour herself a cup of coffee from the pot.

"Donuts?" Boris asked, pulling the bag towards himself and opening it.

"Yep," Polly said, "I got a bear claw specifically for you since last time I brought you donuts that was the only thing you complained about was that I didn't have bear claws, so to save myself from bullshit I brought one."

"Gee, how totally generous of you," Boris said, pulling the bear claw from the bag and biting into it as Polly stood at the table drinking her coffee.

"So what's going on?" she asked.

"Chrissy is seeing her grandfather," Boris said.

"Like, her actual grandfather? And you guys are okay with this?" Polly asked, looking between Boris and Whittle.

"We're not her parents," Whittle reiterated, almost laughing, "We...we don't have much say in who she sees, especially if it's someone from her actual family. She's just our ward, not our child. We're just trying to give her a safe space to grow in while her parents figure some shit out."

"They actually signed off on this weird little love in?" Polly asked.

"They had to, otherwise we were harboring a minor, and that's, like, really illegal," Whittle said, finishing her coffee and standing up, "I have to get dressed. I have a second interview today and I have to be there in an hour. You two behave yourselves."

"Yes mom," they both said as she walked off. As soon as Whittle was down the hall and out of immediate earshot, Polly looked at Boris.

"So...spying on the meet up?" Polly asked.

"You can read my mind," Boris said, standing up to get his coat, "Grab the donuts."

                                                                                                 ***

Sitting in Polly's gremlin, Boris's hand in a bag of chips while Polly watched across the street with binoculars, she couldn't help but feel sleazy about the whole thing. She sighed, set the binoculars on her lap and turned to him, pushing her arm into the chip bag and grabbing a handful herself, shoveling them into her mouth.

"This feels...wrong," Polly said, making Boris shrug.

"I'm just looking out for her," he replied, "We don't need this man. He's her grandfather, but...anything can happen. She deserves to have adults looking out for her best interests. I'm just..."

Boris trailed off and looked out the window. Polly raised an eyebrow and leaned forward, looking at him.

"Yeah?" she asked.

"I'm trying to be a better father figure than the father I actually was," Boris said quietly, making Polly's heart break just a little bit. She leaned back in her chair and raised the binoculars to her eyes, looking out the window again. They'd shown up here around the time school got out, so they knew anytime now Chrissy would show up. After another few minutes of no sightings, Polly lowered the binoculars again and looked at Boris, who was sipping from the straw lodged in the cup of a Big Gulp they'd stopped to get and share.

"Don't you think this is an invasion of privacy?" Polly asked.

"Who are you, Carol?" Boris asked, "She's the one who's interested in morally correct ways of going about things. I like you because you're so morally ambiguous. Don't go gettin' all goody two shoes on me now, okay?"

"Yeah, but, I mean think of it, this is her alone time with the grandfather she actually has, the one member of her family she says really cares about her, and here we are just whole heartedly intruding on that space. That seems...I don't know, wrong somehow."

"Do I look like a man who cares about what's right or wrong?" Boris asked, turning to face her, making her laugh.

"Okay, Bruce Willis, calm down," she said, "I was just raising an observation was all," she replied, just as a knock came at the window, surprising them both. They turned to see Chrissy standing outside the car, glaring at them. Polly started to sink into her seat.

"Don't move, she might not be able to see us," she whispered.

"Oh please, she's not the one old enough to have cataracts," Boris said, leaning across her and rolling the window down; he tipped his hat at her once it was down and asked, "Afternoon, ma'am."

"What are you doing here?" she asked, crossing her arms.

"Just seemed like a pleasant day to sit in the car and look at the park," Polly said, "Is there a law against that?"

"You knew this was my private time with my grandfather. What, you don't trust him? You don't trust me to make sound decisions about who I associate with from my own family?" Chrissy asked, making Boris's heart begin to sink at the sound of the anger in her voice. She furrowed her brow at him, adding, "This is really rude. I know you guys care about me, but this is not very cool."

"Chrissy, we just-"

Chrissy turned and began to storm away from the car, as Boris struggled to get free from his seatbelt and get out of the car, heading across the street after her, leaving Polly to try and follow them. As he approached her from the back, he reached out and grabbed her shoulder gently, making her turn back to face him.

"I just want you to be safe, that's all," Boris said, "I know what it's like to come from a broken family-"

"Yeah, but you're the one who broke it," Chrissy snapped at him, surprising him as she continued, "You weren't the child in it, like me."

"I...I mean, that's true, but I..." Boris stuttered, trailing off.

He had no comeback, she was right. She was completely right and he had absolutely no defense for his actions. They'd been well intentioned, but that rarely went over right. Now here he was, standing in the street, upsetting the one person in the world he'd tried so hard to protect. He'd yet again let another young girl down, and he felt a crushing pain in his gut. Chrissy sighed and looked back towards the park, at another old man sitting on a bench in a suit, licking an ice cream cone and waving at them.

"I'll see you at home," Chrissy said, before heading off.

Boris stood there and watched her walk away, like time itself had stopped. After a few moments, he heard a car horn honking at him, and someone shouting at him to get out of the street. He suddenly felt Polly's hands on his arm, tugging him off to the side, back towards the Gremlin.

"Okay," she said, "Maybe we shouldn't stand in the street, god forbid people think we're senile."

"...take me home," Boris said.

"You got it," Polly said, as they both got back into the car and she started it back up, backing out and driving down the street. She didn't say anything, but she stole a few glances at him and noticed he had tears swelling up in his eyes.

"Hey," she started, "Buddy, for what it's worth, I bet you're twice the grandpa that guy is."

"I just keep doing it," Boris said, "I just keep fucking up and hurting people."

"You were just doing what you thought was noble. Your heart was in the right place," Polly said.

"How come my moral compass is so askew when presented to other people?" Boris asked, and Polly shrugged.

"No idea pal," she said, "But trust me, I think what you tried to do was sweet. Trying to make sure she wouldn't get hurt in any way, even emotionally."

"And then I hurt her emotionally."

Polly didn't respond, and the two sat in silence the rest of the drive. Instead of going straight home, however, Polly took him to a small bar and grill and treated him to lunch and a few drinks. This seemed to lighten his mood a bit, and she was happy about that. She didn't like seeing her best friend unhappy. Afterwards she dropped him off at the apartment, stayed for a bit, played cards and eventually headed back to the home. After parking and heading inside, she headed for her bedroom, where she found Megan hard at work finishing the hot tub installation. As she entered, Megan looked up and didn't say a thing but did smile, and then she refocused on her work.

"Boy what a day," Polly said, "Men are so emotional."

Megan snickered a bit, and kept drilling.

"...do you have a man in your life?" Polly asked, and Megan shook her head.

"Nah," Megan said, "I'm bisexual but I don't really have anyone in my life right now."

"Looking?" Polly asked.

"Look," Megan stood up, changing her drill bit, "Um, I'm flattered, I really am. You seem super cool and really nice, but clearly there's reasons this would never work. Age, for one thing. I'm 24 and you're...?"

"It's not nice to ask a woman's age," Polly said, making Megan laugh.

"Polly, you're really great, and hell, if I were older or you were younger or something was different, then perhaps but, you know, people might think I'm a golddigger or something."

"A golddigger? Do I look like I have money?" Polly asked, laughing, "Megan, you don't have to explain. It's just nice to feel like you can still like someone at my age and to not have it be so rudely rejected. So, thank you for that."

"Of course," Megan said, "I should be done with this any day now by the way."

"You wanna drop by when it's finished? Have a glass of champagne and relax? Mi casa su casa."

Megan smiled and nodded as she pulled off her work gloves and let her hair back down.

"I'd like that," she said.

As Megan packed her things and left for the night, Polly waited until she heard the truck pull away and then, sitting on the side of the bed, started quietly crying to herself. She opened up a drawer on her bedside table, pulled out a bottle of painkillers and took a few, and then exhaled. She laid down and stared at the ceiling. Megan had made Polly feel pretty again. But her absence also made Polly remember just how alone she truly felt. Maybe the high of the painkillers would help a bit.

                                                                                            ***

Boris sat on the couch, reading a book when Whittle came in the door with Chrissy. Chrissy walked right past Boris and into her bedroom, where she quickly closed and locked the door. Whittle glanced at Boris, who didn't respond. She sighed and walked around the couch, sat on the corner of the coffee table and looked at him.

"Look," she said, "I don't blame you. I think you thought you were doing the right thing. I just...I'm sorry she reacted that way, even if she had every right to."

"Mmm," Boris said, nodding, turning a page.

Whittle exhaled, stood up and began to walk down the hallway when she turned back and looked at him.

"Boris?" she asked, making him turn his head to face her; she continued, "someday you're going to have to accept that you can't save everyone."

As Whittle headed into the bathroom, Boris looked back at his book until a knock came at the front door. Boris sighed as anther knock came and he stood up, heading to the door. He opened it firmly, surprised, but happy, to see Father Krickett there.

"Oh," Boris said, "What're you doing here?"

"Lorraine is in the car," Krickett said, "She made me climb the stairs to come get you."

"Get me for what?" Boris asked, an eyebrow raised.

"Boris, it's...it's Ellen," Krickett said, making Boris's breath catch in his chest as Krickett smiled and said, "she's awake."