well hello there. long time no see, huh? please read my author's note in the end for all the big things i've got to say. until then, please be kind with any weird mistakes and typos. today i've made three quizlets (online flashcards), taken a quiz, wrote a three page essay, and edited this whole chapter. it's currently two am. i have another quiz tomorrow. i'm sleepy. but i'm so happy to have finished this chapter. enjoy x
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"When I look at you, I can feel it. I look at you, and I'm home."
-Finding Nemo
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I thought she'd meet me in my dreams again. But, instead, I dreamt of California.
I was barrelling through the familiar streets of my neighborhood, crying. My cheeks were tight with streaks of dried up tears. My head was down and my beanie was pulled messily low on my head. But I didn't care. Because those kids – those awful, ignorant, stupid kids – were making fun of me again.
I could walk this route on autopilot. Left. Right. Right again. And there, second to last, would be my house on the left side of the street. But instead of walking up the driveway towards the garage of the one story home we shared with Suzie, Richards's late wife's sister, I stopped and stood at a different but familiar building.
It was the orphanage. It was home.
Unlike the neighboring houses, which varied in story size, front yard design, and even garage color, there wasn't much architectural design to the orphanage. It was just a fairly tall, upright rectangular building with smaller rectangular windows lining the front and sides of the building. It stuck out like a sore thumb in the neighborhood, but Dream Darcy didn't even blink an eye. I didn't stop to wonder what it was doing there. I merely pushed opened the door like I was home. Because I was.
The interior of the orphanage, quite like the outside, was also quite plain and basic. The carpeted stairs leading up to the four upper levels would the first thing you saw upon entering, and the stomping of feet above your head would be the first thing you hear. It was obnoxiously loud, but achingly familiar.
Marley was by the stairs, ironing some clothing. Carles and Rayna were in the living room to the left, sitting on one of the three couches. It became an inside joke that our living room was the "s'more room," as we had two graham colored couches, a dark chocolate colored couch, and a white wooden coffee table. However, if not for the legs, it'd be hard to tell what color it was beneath the abundance of magazines, coloring books, and colored construction paper covering the surface of it. Behind it was a large bookcase, neatly organized by picture book, chapter book, and board and card games (all thanks to Edan). Even from where I stood, at the end of the small hallway leading to the kitchen and dining room, I could hear the shrieking laughter from the girls playing and using worn down chalk nubs in the blacktop out back, or as we liked to call it, the "Black Garden."
Gone were the kids' teasing echoes in my head. I replaced them with sounds of home, letting the familiarity of it all consume me completely. It was loud and crowded and messy and hard, but it was more of a home than the one I was raised in. More than how I felt in Suzie house, but akin to how I felt once I moved back to New York with Papa.
Suddenly, arms encircling my waist caught me off guard. I yelped and turned, only to find myself practically nose to nose with Chris. His smile made my heart enlarge tenfold.
"Finally! C'mon, we're going to be late," he said. "The others are waiting for us at the museum."
I didn't protest. I let him take my hand and guide me out the front door. The warm kiss of California sunshine didn't greet me again as I bounded down the steps of the orphanage. Instead, the coolness of New York City did. The air was so crisp that my teeth began to chatter, and I inched closer to Chris for warmth. He wrapped his arm around me tighter.
And that was all I could remember. Awake now, lying in bed, I couldn't help but scrunch my face. Museum? Neither of us have expressed an interest in visiting a museum, so I'm not sure why my unconcious would slip that into the narrative, but I understood the rest of it.
I hated California. I love New York. I missed the girls. And Chris made me happy. Very happy.
Despite the orphanage uprooting itself to California, placing itself on the very spot of Suzie's home, this dream didn't feel like a dream at all. The pain and anger I felt because of those kids and their cruel, immature words felt very real. I wonder if their hearts and minds ever opened up. I wonder if they ever realized how wrong it was to rip someone apart over things they couldn't control, or for situations that were not shameful to be in. Honestly, I just wonder if they ever grew the hell up.
But the damage was done. Their words haunted me now, despite the time that has passed, despite the miles between us. Yes, the pain and anger felt real, but the joy and tenderness I felt as I entered the orphanage also felt real – and it was overpowering. Slowly, though, my feelings all boiled down into one thing: complete and utter sadness.
Imagination could never let me down if I willed it to, but reality always finds a way. Now that I was awake, reality hit me like a ton of bricks to my chest.
"Oh, Sylvia," I whispered mournfully into the darkness. She was the last thing I thought of as I drifted to sleep last night, and she was the first thing I thought about when I opened my eyes. Just like last night, the tears came, and I let them fall silently down my cheeks and temples. I cried and I cried until I had no more to give, until I was laying still and quiet on my tear-damped pillow case.
Click, click, click. I listened to the steady sound of my wall clock, but watched the time go by on my phone screen.
6:07.
6:10.
6:21.
6:35.
I waited for more tears to come, but it seemed I was all dried up for the moment. The tightness in my chest loosened each time I cried, as if my system was flooded and needed the release. But I knew, in a couple hours, it would refill, and the tears would come again.
Tonight and tomorrow, I'd find solace in the darkness and let myself cry. But for now, feeling empty and numb, I kicked off the covers and headed to the kitchen to start my day.
Hints of sunlight were just barely peeking over the buildings by the time I'd gotten breakfast underway. The green digital numbers on the microwave shone back at me, letting me know that it was nearing seven in the morning. I should be getting ready to head over to my AP Literature class, but instead I stood in my dimly lit kitchen, eyeing the batch of pancakes I was cooking on the stove, as well as the light on the waffle maker sitting on the counter. I had to make both, since Papa and I have long ago agreed to disagree on the "which is better, waffles or pancakes" fight. Though, obviously, waffles were superior.
My phone rang out, breaking the still silence of the early morning. I jumped in surprise, then scrambled to silence it, thinking it was an alarm. One of the silly photos Chris and I took the night of our winter formal shone up at me instead. He was calling.
Stupidly, I ran a hand through my hair and rubbed at my eyes, as if he were going to see me in all my fabulous morning glory. I shook my head at myself and answered. "Hello?"
"Darce?" I could barely make out his words in the noisy bustle of students, no doubt getting ready for the school day to start. "Where are you? I've been waiting at your locker all morning."
In the background, I was able to make out Marissa's voice, saying "We've been waiting at your locker all morning." My heart swelled at her words.
"Right. Sorry. All of us have been waiting at your locker this morning. You okay?"
"I'm..." Sad? Numb?Okay? No, not okay. "Holding up," I decided with. "But I won't come in today. I'll just spend the day with Papa. Have an 'us' day."
"Oh, all right." I heard the others aw together as Chris repeated my words back to them.
"We should hang out soon!" Cooper said, loud enough for me to hear.
"We're here for you, Darce!" Marissa added.
I was smiling and nodding. "Yes, of course! Tell them I said thank you so much. And that I'd like to go to this board game place soon."
The bell for first period rang as he said, "You got it." Disappointment swelled in me, knowing that he had to go, but after a moment, the background noise on the phone got quieter, and Chris spoke again, his voice much easier to hear. "Still there?"
"Yes, but you shouldn't. Get to class!"
"In a minute," he said, and I could imagine him waving a dismissive hand at me. I smiled at the thought. "I'm sitting in the stairwell by Mr. Bertie's classroom. We have a substitute today in government class, and I've had him before. He's chill."
I transferred some of the pancakes onto a plate as I listened to him talk, grimacing at the overcooked side. Chris laughed as I shouldered the blame onto him rather than my lack of concentration.
"Really, though, Darce," Chris continued, his tone serious again. "How are you, really?"
"Holding up, like I said. Not amazing. But holding up."
"Do you want me to come over today?"
I bit my lip. How could I ever turn down an offer to see him? My traitorous mind thought back to yesterday, to the feeling of being in his arms, and my even more traitorous heart began to race. "Yeah, that'd be nice," I murmured. "Maybe later tonight, though. I'm not too sure what Papa and I are gonna do today, but I'd like to spend some time with him first. I'm..."
I paused, afraid if my next words were going to sound dramatic or not.
"You're what?" Chris prodded.
"I'm... I don't know. I don't know if it's irrational or not. But after everything that's happened, it's just got me thinking. " I sighed. "Papa's... older. And we had moved to California because he was starting to have some health problems. And now I'm just a little afraid that..." I let my words die off, hoping that Chris could piece together what I was too afraid to into existence, despite Jessica consoling me over it last night.
To my relief, he did. "I get it, Darce. And, honestly, I would be lying if I said that thought hadn't crossed my mind. But you guys moved back here for a reason, right? Richard's kickin'. He's here, and he's running a literal restaurant. He could've lied back into a cushiony retirement after his health picked up, but he came back to this jungle of a city. I don't think you would've made the move if Richard wasn't feeling up for it. He makes decisions with you in mind. He does what's best for you."
I nodded, trying to let the light of his words dissipate the swirls of worry in me. "Yeah. You're right. Thanks.
"'Course. And I know it's one thing having these words coming from me, but maybe you can talk to him about it today on your day together," he suggested. "I'm sure he can be more of a comfort than me."
"Oh, don't." I wish I could look him in the eyes as I spoke these words. "Don't do that. Ever since we were young, you've had this power to make me feel like it'll all be okay." The words brought a rush of heat to my cheeks, but they were completely true. Chris just had that sort of warm and comforting essence about him that I just wanted to bask in.
"Power, huh? Well, it's super secret. Don't go spreading it around, will ya?" I could hear the grin in his voice, and I couldn't help the smile that rose on my own lips.
"Fine, I guess" I responded back, my tone laced with a hint of theatrics. "But seriously, Chris. Thank you."
"But seriously, Darce," he mimicked, "That's what best friends are for."
Best friends. Ever so traitorous, my mind flashed back to the memory again. To the memory. To that brief, sweet moment where I looked over at his peaceful, sleeping face and realized how he cradled me. How he had comforted me even before we fell asleep.
I closed my eyes, barely holding back a sigh.
Chris was my best friend. He was my first real friendship outside the walls of the orphanage. But was it still very best friend of me to have wished to be in his arms as I laid in bed last night? To relive that moment in my head over and over?
No, it wasn't very best friend of me. But oh, how so very cliché was it for me to be catching feelings for my childhood best friend.
I was pleased with myself as Papa lay back against his headboard, rubbing his full and satisfied stomach.
"Well, that was delicious, honey," Papa praised enthusiastically, making me grin even wider.
"Thank you, Papa. I'm really glad you liked it." I carefully took hold of the wooden tray from his lap and handed him his TV remote. When he came out of his room this morning, briefly catching me in the middle of preparing the food in an unnecessary aesthetic layout, I practically shoved him back inside with instructions that we would have breakfast in bed today. When I came in, some sort of forensics show was playing on his TV, and I didn't find that type of content quite appealing as we ate, so we turned it off. Now that we were finished, I prepared myself to watch an episode or two with him before we officially got up for the day.
My mind, however, began to wander off ten minutes into it, and my eyes soon followed. Papa, I noticed, hasn't decorated his room very much. Besides all the necessary furniture, there wasn't splash of character at all, really. Maybe London would like to have a go with Papa's room. Hell, maybe she could have a go at mine, too. I adored her eye for all things beauty and art.
As I let my eyes wander mindlessly around his room, I noticed, through the narrow opening of his closet door, the four large brown boxes stacked on top of each other, still taped shut.
"Papa, what are those boxes? Are they from the move? Did you need help unpacking them?"
"Oh. Those are Evellyn and Gray's things."
I swallowed. "Oh."
I peered at Papa's face as he kept his eyes fixed on the TV.
Evellyn and Gray. The two people Papa's life revolved around before I came along. It's not like the names of his late wife and young son were forbidden to say, but it was always a topic I shied away from. It made me uncomfortable that I didn't know too much about them, but I was always too uncomfortable to ask more. I knew the bare basics. Well, I knew how they died.
I looked away, blinking quickly in a futile attempt to keep the immediate tears at bay. They could spring so quickly at just the mere thought of their tragic death.
When I was a kid, Papa told me they died of an accident. When I was older, he explained to me that they were on an annual camping trip with a few family friends. Gray, fourteen at the time, had wandered off with his friend away from the campsite. Apparently, they were walking along the edge of the river's steep embankment when Gray somehow – because of a loose bit of ground or a misstep or something – fell in to the river's raging water. Evellyn went looking for them in the brief time the kids were gone and got there just mere seconds after Gray fell in. She tried to take a rough rocky trail down to the river bank in a panic, but lost her footing on a couple loose and slippery rocks.
Such a horrific story, one that's caused me more than my fair share of nightmares. A piece of my heart splintered each time the details crossed my mind. The raging waters that swept Gray away. The intense motherly instinct that must have consumed Evellyn for her to take such a dangerous, and ultimately fatal, trek down to the water in order to find her son. Did she see him and that's why she tried to go down there? Was he still holding on to something when he saw his mother slip?
I attempted the breathing exercise Jessica taught me last night before I was able to steady myself. My voice still shook when I spoke. "Well, maybe we can unpack some of their stuff?" I suggested in a tentative voice. "Let them settle into their new home, too?"
Though his eyes still remained on the TV, I could see the quick rise and fall of his stomach as he breathed quickly.. He nodded silently, but didn't say a word. He stayed on the bed as I dragged out each of the four boxes and cut open the tape. The stench that hit my nose after opening the boxes made me wonder how long its been since these boxes were opened in the first place. I was too oblivious of a child to have noticed them in Suzie's house, if they were even in plain sight.
As I grew older, I became more and more aware about the life Papa had once upon a time. It made me wonder how I was supposed to think about Evellyn and Gray. Were they my family, too? Could I call them my mom and brother, even though we've never met? I've developed a lot of questions similar to these ones, but I was too afraid to ask. Too afraid to reopen wounds that may have never – and maybe never will – heal.
But having a place to call our own now, I wanted to make it their own, too. I wanted to stitch Papa's two lives together, rather than compartmentalize them.
The boxes contained a wide variety of things: old toys, clothing, photo albums, jewelry, old records and so much more. There was no organization to the things in the box, and there was a lot of stuff. Nonetheless, I tied my hair into a messy half braid and got to work.
When I asked to spend the day with Papa, I wasn't sure what we would do. Maybe go to the movies or out to dinner. Perhaps go to the grocery store and gather ingredients for a new recipe we could try. Something simple. I guess you could call what we did today "simple," but it was more far more special than anything I had originally thought of.
After all these years, Papa kept Evellyn and Gray's most precious belongings, and today we scattered most of them around our apartment. A little thing here, another over there. The extra sentiment stood out like a pop of color. Looking around my apartment now, my eyes would always catch on something that wasn't there before, like Evellyn's multicolored stained-glass jewelry bowl that was now serving as our key bowl. Or the baby blue cliché wooden block saying "Happiness Gathers Here." And now, on Papa's bedside table, was a foldable picture frame that had me and Papa in one, and Papa, Evellyn, and Gray in the other. I scanned some of the photos from one of the old photo albums and edited them to be black and white, then put some of them in a collage frame, alongside with some of me and Papa again, out in the hallway that led to mine and Papa's room. We placed the remainder of photo albums on the little shelving beneath our coffee table. By the time darkness blanketed the sky, we only had one significantly lighter box of things to tuck back into Papa's closet.
My finishing touch was placing Gray's first ever stuffed animal – a brown deer with its stuffing distributed unevenly throughout its body – on top a handful of Evellyn's favorite books inside the bookshelf by our TV. I ducked down to peer into its black beaded eyes, trying to imagine the same little toy being held in the arms of a boy I will never get to meet.
My fingers traced the tips of its soft ears. "Make yourself at home, little guy," I whispered to it softly.
"Oh, this damned thing isn't going to work, now is it?" I turned towards Papa's grumbling and saw him fiddling with an old record player. One of the boxes was majority filled with vinyl records and this record player. I picked up the one leaning against the arm of the couch and read it aloud.
"Rainbow Connection?" The artwork indicated that this version of the song was from the original Muppets movie soundtrack in 1979. Admittedly, I haven't watched any of them. I didn't have much of a desire to watch any of the Muppet movies.
"Sung by Jim Henson. It was my wedding dance song."
My eyes widened. "Oh! Is this the one we used to dance to, Papa?"
Papa dismissed the record player with a frustrated sigh and turned to me, eyes softening. "Yes, actually. Still remember?"
I nodded enthusiastically, clutching at my chest with the memory. When I was younger (and considerably lighter), Papa would do that thing where I could stand on his toes as he danced around the kitchen or living room. I remember feeling like I was on a ride because of how many times he would turn around and around. I'd beg Papa to dance with me like a child would beg a parent to go on a ride again.
"Well, if you remember, Evellyn was a dancer. She started dancing when she was eight years old, and she went on to do it professionally until around when she had Gray, at thirty. She was so beautif–" Papa's voice hitched with emotion, and I reached out, taking his hand with both of mine. He cleared his throat, eyes still trained on the vinyl record. "Anyway, she adored that song. Would hum it all the time. And when she was upset, I'd hum it to her, too. Though I probably didn't sound as lovely as her."
"So you danced to it at your wedding?"
"Oh, yes. It was a waltz that she choreographed herself. Suzie still has the VHS tape of us dancing, I'm sure."
"I wanna see!" I cried. No. I didn't just want to, I had to. Somewhere in that house was physical documentation of Papa performing a beautiful, special dance with the only other woman who loved him as much as I did. Though I've not talked to Suzie much since we'd left, I knew this was a phone call I needed to make.
Suddenly, I had an idea. I grinned. "Do you think you still remember the steps, Papa?" I asked him as I stood and grabbed for my phone. Years of disuse, as well as enduring a handful of different moves, has definitely taken the life out of Papa's old record player. I made a mental note to look into buying him a newer one for Christmas, but smiled as I was able to quickly search and pull up the song on my phone. The first strums of a banjo began to stream. Papa grinned.
I sat on the couch, giggling and laughing as Papa stepped and spun around and around the apartment floor. I was amazed at how much he remembered. His entire body moved with such intention and purpose that the ghost of Evellyn could have been right there in his arms, stepping in rhythm with him. And as I watched Papa dance, holding nothing but air, my chest tightened again with that need to release. To cry. My heart ached for Evellyn just as much as it did for Sylvia. I wanted to repatch the hole their disappearance must have made in Papa's heart. I wanted to give Papa the family that was so tragically ripped away from him.
Papa stopped and came to me as my tears began to flow. He gathered me into his arms, asking over and over what was wrong as he smoothed down my hair. The weight of loss and the tragedy of it all pressed down on me, rendering me hopelessly in tears. Eventually, Kermit the Frog's serenade came to an end, but Papa continued its melody in a hum. I only cried harder.
"I-I'm sorry you l-lost them," I hiccuped. "I'm s-sorry you're stuck with me."
"Hey." Papa's voice was stern as he pulled me far enough to peer into my eyes. He looked blurry in my tear-filled vision, and he fruitlessly tried to brush them away with the pads of his thumbs. "Don't break my heart like that, Darcy. Do. Not. Ever. Make yourself feel like you're anything less than what I see you as. You're the beacon of light that guides me home. You're the north star that brings me hope. You had my love before I could even call you my daughter. You are everything to me, and so much more."
No matter how many times he brushed away my tears, more always followed. Papa was my savior. He was my everything. I went from having my blood-born father tell me I was the very thing to ruin his life to being told I was love and light and all things good. How did a mistake like me end up so lucky?
"I love you, Papa," were the only words I could manage in my blubbering mess.
He smiled and used a nearby throw to dab at my face. "And I love you, my darling Darcy," he said. "And I know they would've loved you, too. Oh how Evellyn would have loved you." He shook his head like he couldn't even fathom the thought.
I laughed and rested my head on his shoulder. "Papa, I know we've not talked much about them before... but I'd really like to start."
I sent a well calculated text to Chris once I sensed Papa was about to fall asleep, telling him now would be the best time to come over. I was eager to see him, not just for stupid brewing crush reasons, but for a personal mission that's been brewing ever since earlier this evening. Something that, now that I think about it, really wasn't going to help my case in the crush department.
Papa was long gone by the time I went to open the door for Chris. My heart was racing with both anticipation and anxiety. I was already holding my breath as I opened the door, leaving me with no room to gasp at the surprise that greeted me.
All dark clothing? Check.
Cute as usual? Check.
Except, the selection of Disney DVD movies tucked under one arm wasn't typical. And neither was the beautiful bouquet of pretty pink roses he held in his other hand.
"Oh, Chris," I breathed.
He smiled, almost shyly, as he held out the bouquet to me. "For you. To brighten your days a little bit." He shrugged the arm that was holding the DVDs. "And I thought we could watch a movie to take your mind off things. Your pick. And if your favorite one isn't here, I bet we can find it online?"
I took the flowers from him and, without thinking, nearly leaped into his embrace.
After such an emotionally tolling day, his presence is just what I needed. I needed to feel his super power.
"Thank you," I murmured into his shoulder. "And thank you for coming. Just... thank you for everything."
"Of course." He squeezed me tighter. "Of course, Darce."
We remained silent as I tended to my flowers. I didn't bother to smother my smile as I did so. His bringing me flowers was so sweet and unexpected. It was also my first ever bouquet. Suffice to say, I was charmed.
Still, even if he showed up empty handed, he would still be showing up with a shoulder for me to lean on and a heart open and ready to help me in any way that I needed. I was counting my lucky stars for having him in my life, too. He seemed content sitting at the kitchen table, watching as I cut the stems down an inch. I made sure to pour the packet that came with the roses into the vase; I wanted to make them last as long as I could. Once they were nicely arranged and placed where I knew a lot of sunlight would come in, I gestured for him to follow me to my room.
"Shut the door for me, will 'ya? I said to him, settling on my window sill bench. On the slim chance that Papa woke up, I didn't want him to hear what I was going to ask Chris. If he said yes to my request, then this was going to be our little secret project for the next while. But what if he said no? I tugged and twisted my braid around my finger, already nervous about the potential rejection. At this point in our relationship, I think Chris was starting to get good at noticing this particular nervous tic, because he quirked an eyebrow at me in a silent what's wrong?
"I... have a request." I bit my lip. God. Here I was having very un-best friend thoughts of wanting to be in Chris's arms, and now I was realizing just how much this request was going to give me exactly what I wanted.
"Okay," he said slowly as he scanned my face for some sort of clue as to what it would be. "Shoot."
Well, here goes.
I sucked in sharply, then exhaled the words in one quick breath.
"Will you be my dance partner?"
update author's note: 11/2: i'm aware richard's son's story doesn't line up with a thousand words — it's something i need to fix whenever i get the chance to edit atw one day. the changes made fit better for md's plotline. sorry for the inconsistency!
hi <3 oh how great does it feel to be able to have finished this chapter - for you and for me! i've been trying to write this chapter literally since school started (as you may have seen if you follow me on my ig). this chapter was jam packed with hard hittin stuff, which double explains why it took me even longer for me to get it out. two things:
1) thank you SO MUCH for one million votes on a thousand words. that's such a crazy crazy milestone to have and i'm so grateful to be a part of this community. stay tuned for a "love, jess" post where i give my thoughts and thanks, as well as a video of ~my face~ on my ig saying thank you!
2) idk what happened you guys but this week alone i've had the breakthrough ideas that i NEEDED to continue this story. i wanted to write chris and darcy's story, but the plan i had just was sitting well. it didn't feel right. but ever since i hit one mill and had this brief time after my anatomy exam (fuck that class is hard), i've been hit with idea and idea that feels so right and i'm so damn excited you guys. i'm so so so excited. i have the ideas – the bones – that i needed to get this story going and i couldn't be happier. i feel like my struggle with this story for so long was that i was struggling to find the direction fitting of darcy and what i wanted from her story. and now i've got it!!!!
that being said, i'm not sure when i will be able to upload next. november is going to be jam packed with exams and projects and essays (which i have for literally every class), so i will be very busy. though trust when i say that i do try and write when i have the energy and mental capacity lol. i stayed up writing this chapter because i know that tomorrow, things will start picking up again and they will not slow down until the semester ends. we'll see
i'm excited you guys. i'm so excited for this story. i can't wait for you guys to see what i have in store, and i hope you stick around (even if it may take a while. definitely by december!)
our chapter question for today: what's your favorite childhood song? disney and undisney is welcome ;)
leave a comment and vote if you enjoyed! and follow my instagram to stay the most connected/updated with me, and happy november! <3