What is your favorite pastime?
January passed as well as February and by March, Emery had discovered a small alleyway that no one went to where he practiced using his abilities. By April, he had discovered twenty new ways to use light that he had no idea he could do before and was practicing whenever he had time.
No one had come knocking on Elliott's door with a pistol ready to kill Emery the first chance they got and the peace was strikingly odd. It had taken him multiple weeks to stop looking over his shoulder with every new street he passed down and multiple more to stop anticipating a fight.
And through it all, Emery would be lying if he said he didn't miss the nagging presence of Five Hargreeves critiquing his every move. He hadn't realized how normal it had become, to go somewhere and always expect Five to just be around the corner, threatening someone's life with that maniac smile of his or bandaging a wound gotten from a gunfight or talking Emery's ear off when ever they got into one of their arguments. Emery always gave himself a small slap in the face whenever he caught himself thinking about the boy when he was at work or wandering the streets. It was never the time. A few more months or years at least and Emery was sure the boy would be back to fighting with him like normal.
The days got longer and the temperature got warmer. And steadily, Emery was making enough money to get him a meal a day and a few train tickets if he so wished.
The thought crossed his mind to forgo waiting for Five's arrival and pool together his money for several train tickets and a hefty ferry ride to Strasbourg but it was like the boy was in his mind, criticizing him for thinking of such things and telling him how its best not to make too much of an impact on things in the past or rather- present.
So Emery settled for paying Elliott for his time, finding a small shoebox-sized living accommodation up the steps of a sandwich shop, and decorating the place with a lamp and a faux plant.
Business soared and at one point he was making close to twelve or even thirteen dollars a day on top of tips and the global economic boom. He was promoted to waiter by the third month and he found he could go into a shop and purchase a new shirt or trousers without worrying too much about the price. The next step would be to get a house so he was finally out of Elliott's hair (no matter how many times the man argued that he enjoyed a second person in his home) and the small apartment with a roommate was on the top of his list. Another few weeks and he would have enough.
Come May and Emery was moved in, working full shifts on weekdays and the occasional weekend. He had been able to leave a crisp fifty dollars on Elliott's counter the night before he left and then he was gone by sunrise, the few possessions he had managed to aqired tucked under his arm in a small box as he went.
His roommate was but a year his elder at seventeen with striking curly black hair that seemed to grow upwards instead of down with the curls that sprung from her scalp. Every effort to tame them was often futile for the first half hour until she eventually got it to cooperate from where she eventually tied it into a bun or tight ponytail.
"Why not just leave it loose?" Emery asked one hot day, sweat pouring down his neck as they cranked the window open as far as it could and had their singular fan blowing at the highest speed it could go.
"Oh honey, with this heat, my hair would look closer to a demolished bird's nest than what you see on those girls' pictures at the parlor."
Marianna was how so many people put it 'a ridiculously ambitious young black woman dedicated to her craft but not to the keeping of society's laws' or so as directly quoted from the most entitled man Emery had ever talked to. The girl was employed at the Ladies' Beauty Parlor as a hairdresser for black women and every night she comes home with a gleeful smile on her face as she recounted the way she learned a new skill or they enraged the larger white community that day with their mere presence.
She was a little hesitant with rooming with him at first, as she looked wholly ready to back down from the offer when she saw he was her roommate but after much reassurance and a housewarming gift purchased with his last weeks earnings, she warmed Emery to him quickly and they became quite the pair.
They stayed in that tiny shoebox apartment with the windows all but permanently opened and a jar sitting on the counter that they stuffed bills and coins into for rent each month. They stayed together even through the inevitable economic bust when they thought they were going to get evicted and when Emery lost his job due to a loss of customers and money deficits that went to the senior employees instead of him.
Outside of that they didn't talk much. Emery would come back late each night and any day time left after that he would spend pooling over old newspapers looking for any indications of the Hargreeves. Marianna also worked late and was a part of some community club she attended weekly where she would stay out late. They worked around each other in a kind of calm silence that Emery had never felt before, a silent understanding passing over them when they'd bring a meal home or a new vase to replace the old one that had broken. It was beginning to feel like somewhat of a home.
He got a job as a mechanic in a small shop wedged between a bakery and an up and coming accounting firm so while he was stuck under a car with an oil leak, the smell mixed with whatever delectable scent that was wafting from the bakery beside.
He'd found such an occupation when walking down the streets, peering into windows and looking for any help wanted signs. It was surprisingly easy for a kid in the 60s to get a job without so much as a resume so when a rugged man that couldn't have been more than thirty came out with a cigar sticking out of the corner of his lips and asked him if he were looking for a job, Emery was hired on the spot.
He worked long days with plenty breaks in between when there were few or no cars in and quickly learnt that shirts were overbearing and stuffy and often opted to go without much like many of the other workers he worker beside. They were all older than him but still treated him as their equal. There were a few other teenagers and one- a kid that looked to be twelve but was actually only ten and he could jack a car faster than anyone else could do even with a second pair of hands.
All tight knit, they had no problem dragging everyone- including the ten year old, to outings after work when they could close the shop earlier and reign the streets. They went to the cinema, the bakery for donuts, bowling alleys, and anything else the town had to offer. Tonight they were going to an exclusive club with dancers and alcohol. "And no kids allowed." So those under 21 were stuck on lookout.
Emery now understood how Klaus felt when Luther stuck him on lookout months ago when Vanya threatened the end of man.
They were stationed as the designated drivers though Emery had never driven a day before in his life, the one other guy who was older than him had snuck in long ago with his battered suit for a few drinks, and the ten-year-old was passed out in the back seat, waiting any minute for his mom to pick him up. Emery was alone and when picking at the grit beneath his nails became boring, he settled for absentmindedly glaring at the front doors of the place.
Eventually, he disbanded his post when his only other source of companionship disappeared in the back of a pickup truck and he walked into the closest shop for water and some source of nourishment. He had worked through lunch, as it was usually the busiest with businessmen dropping their cars in at noon and coming back after their shift to pick them up.
The thick air laced with heat was enough to make his throat dry despite the obscene amounts of water he seemed to inject but he still chugged a good half of it when the bottle was purchased.
He leaned against the hood of the vehicle they all piled into and absentmindedly tore the wrapping of the sandwich, ready to take a bite.
Then the front doors of the joint his friends were all in swung open and his pal Ricky stumbled out and across the street.
"Old Hank looks jus' about ready ter threw up his lunch. None of us 'r sober enough ter carry him out without help." He giggled and hiccuped and then spotted the sandwich ready in Emery's hands. He plucked it selfishly into his own hands and took a large bite.
Emery groaned and brushed past Ricky and into the joint, barely mumbling out a 'don't go anywhere' to the man before he was swinging the doors open and walking through.
"Mr. Merry!" The christened Old Hank slurred when he saw him enter. "Emmy, Emery bubs. Here to break the fun eh?"
"You're drunk." Emery stated as he walked over to the man and supported him on his back. "Grab your monkeys and let's go."
Shouts of disagreement arose. "Stay Merry. Come on, have some fun."
"I'm underage." Emery insisted as he pulled Old Hank towards the exit, the rest of the 'monkeys' following like loyal dogs. Emery fought back a smile as he endured their drunken comments. Even Liam who was mostly reserved was babbling on about his mastermind plot to beat the ten-year-old kid in a jacking contest.
"That sounded bad." He added a moment later.
"You can't be here." A pair of feet stopped in front of Emery as he was making his way down the lane, Old Hank still all but leaning on his back.
"Can we help you, princess?" One of Emery's coworkers whistled. Emery looked up. The girl was dressed nicely, nice enough to evoke any drunken man worthy of his time.
"We were just leaving." Emery was reassured when he saw the girl frown.
"These men bothering you?" A new voice joined them and Emery rolled his eyes, ready to once more insist that he was just leaving- that they were all just leaving but then he saw who belonged to the voice and he stood up straight, Old Hank tumbling to the floor with an unceremonious grunt.
"Luther?" Emery asked, wide-eyed as he took the man in with all his... glory? Gone were the long trench coat and gloves replaced with nothing but a white tank top that revealed his genetically monkey-induced arms.
"Emery?" Luther said, doing a double take. "What are you doing here?"
"What are you doing here? Wearing that?" Emery retaliated. Luther just frowned. "I work for these schmoes." The looks of bewilderment didn't leave the man's face. "I'm a mechanic for a small shop down the way. He-" Emery gestured to the man that was on the floor. Others were trying- and failing to pick him up. "Is my boss. We go out sometimes. But that's beside the point. What are you doing here?" He tried again.
"You're not drinking are you?" Luther just demanded instead.
"No, Luther. I am not drinking." He said.
"Ok..." Luther exhaled but he still looked apprehensive. "I'm a boxer. To answer your question. A muscle."
"Ok..." Emery responded in the same apprehensive tone. "How long have you been here?" He asked.
"1962. You?"
"I just got here a few months ago. Do you know where any of the others are? I've been looking, but no such luck." Emery questioned.
Luther shook his head. Emery opened his mouth to say more, potentially to suggest how they should exchange notes or try to work together to find the others but then a man was pulling him away with a warning look on his face that made Emery shut his mouth.
He sighed and heaved Old Hank up once more before finally pushing towards the exit where they stumbled to the vehicle and inside. He afterward got in the driver's seat and exhaled, donning his seatbelt and shifting into drive.
They didn't run anyone over on their way. Emery was unbelievably proud of the fact. He guessed after being in the same car as Five who acted as the driver and gave him enough lessons on what not do to, he was able to drive everyone to their separate homes where they would be greeted by their wives on the front door with either a hug and a kiss but never a slap though Emery could see the disdain written across their features.
Emery finished his rounds by parking the vehicle back at the shop and walking the rest of the way through the corner sandwich shop and up the back steps until he was greeted by Marianna sitting idly on the window sill and flipping through a hairstyle magazine.
"Goodmorning, good afternoon, good evening, goodnight." Emery said, just barely managing to shuck off his shoes, change his dirty clothes, wash up, and tumble into his bed.
Marianna just chuckled. "Goodnight Emery." She said, turning off the lamp and climbing the ladder to her bed over his.
I post questions at the beginning of each chapter to get to know everyone and boost engagement but I also love to hear your thoughts as you read chapters. Don't be afraid to comment!
-SBB