happy 2020, friends! thank you so much for all your support in 2019. darcy's story continues to be my main priority for this year and i'm excited for what's to come. thanks for the patience, and please read the author's note at the end for a longer update. kindly let me know of any weird typos and mistakes. dedicated to my friend thya @twentyonepilxts- for being my beta reader and just being overall great <3
RECAP: after the passing of sylvia, the woman who owned the orphanage darcy was in, darcy decides to have an "us" day with her papa. she finds boxes containing some old belongings of richard's late wife and son, evellyn and gray. darcy decides to distribute some of their items throughout the apartment, including an old record player that richard gets to work. he dances to "rainbow connection," his wedding song and dance choreographed by his late wife. darcy cries over their loss and hatches a plan. she invites chris over and asks him to be her dance partner.
"Your dance partner?"
I forced a nod despite the whispers of insecurity trying to coerce me out of my plan. I pushed forward before they could get the best of me and recounted to Chris all the details from today – from breakfast, to the boxes, to all the decorating. Despite myself, when it was finally time to tell Chris the real truth behind Gray and Evellyn's death, I couldn't help the tears that came again. With it, came the same haunting words.
Keep it in or keep it quiet.
I paused. Clenched a fist. Breathed in. Breathed out.
It's okay to cry. I'm safe. It's okay.
Chris placed his hand over my fist. He remained silent as I continued taking in deep, shaky breaths.
It's okay, it's okay, I continued to tell myself.
Eventually, I was able to tell him all of it, even as tears streamed down my cheeks and dripped down my chin like a faucet that wasn't fully turned off. I hoped I wouldn't have to tell this part of their story again for a long while. And now that Papa and I are beginning to talk more about them, I hoped I could learn more of the beginning and the middle and not be left with just the tragic ending.
By the time I was finished, Chris had scooted himself to my side. Shoulder to shoulder. Temple to temple. I was too much of an embarrassing weepy mess to fret over his closeness. I needed his warmth. His strength. So instead, with the hand that he wasn't holding, I played with the end of my braid and waited for him to speak. He cursed a couple times. Opened his mouth to say something, then closed it again in silence. When he spoke again, it was barely above a whisper, as if anything louder would shatter the fragile bubble that's weaved itself around us.
"I'm sorry, Darce. I... I don't know what to say," he murmured. "It's just..."
"Horrific. Heartbreaking. Tragic. Just... Fucking awful?" I finished for him. "There's not even a good enough word."
I didn't even know what to say when Papa first told me. I was thirteen. It was the anniversary of the day it happened. There was a suffocating tension in the house. Suzie stayed in her room all day and didn't come out until the next day. Papa laid in bed for most of the afternoon, then took me out to dinner. He told me at our favorite Thai restaurant.
For so long, I'd been shielded from the truth. Cloaked in ignorance. But we're not kids anymore. Monsters are real, but they're not the storybook type that hides behind corners and lives under our beds. They live within us, and they go by several names. Mourning, heartbreak, tragedy, loneliness. Each person has their own one – maybe even multiple. And we're all just constantly trying to fight it from taking our light away.
I shook my head and kept my gaze on a corner of my room, knowing that behind those walls lay Papa in his bed, alone – when once upon a time, he wasn't.
A guttural groan of frustration escaped me then as my eyes welled once more. I was so tired of crying. I hated mourning. I wanted to rip the bad feelings from my body and lock it away so it could never find me again. But I know that's not how life works. I could never make it all right again. There will always be pieces of our hearts that are lost with the loss of them. But maybe we can still hold them there. Perch them on the edge of the hole in our hearts. Never filled, but never empty, either.
Filled with a sudden rush of resolve, I swiped at my tears and stood to face Chris. His eyes were filled with pain, but also concern.
He won't say no. He won't.
I held on to that hope and continued. "Right. So about the dance partner thing. Papa and Evellyn's wedding anniversary is the same day as Papa's birthday."
Chris's eyebrows rose in surprise. "Oh, they were that couple. Whose idea was that?"
I couldn't help the tiniest quirk of a smile. Papa and Evellyn's story wasn't all tragic. "I know, cheesy, huh? It was her idea. She loved him so much, Chris. He says she claims to have loved him ever since they were in middle school together. Believe it or not, Papa was actually quite the golden boy back in high school. She caught his attention at a party once, with all her –" I shimmied my shoulders playfully – "killer dance moves."
Chris threw his head back in a laugh. "Oh, really?" he teased. "And are these killer dance moves what you're asking me to do with you?"
I shook my head, not knowing what kind of moves must have reeled teenage Papa in. If they were in any way seductive or sexy, then absolutely count me out. "Think less 'let me show off to win you over' and more..." I shrugged. "More 'you're the love of my life, won't you dance with me?'"
Realizing quickly how this may have been coming across, I pushed on. "Well, anyway, I want to recreate their wedding dance. It's a waltz. Evellyn choreographed it all herself, and Papa used to have me stand on his feet as he would dance it around our living room. I have no idea what the moves are, and I may not even be able to pull it off, but –" I sighed and clutched a hand to my aching chest "– I just want to carry this special piece of Evellyn with me. I want that dance to live on in me and not just on a VHS tape that may break or get lost. And if Papa's memory starts to fail him, I want to be able to remind him.
We've not talked much about his life before me, but I'd like to stop treating Evellyn and Gray as just precious memories that stay locked in a box. I want to live in their memory, not just after it. My plan is to learn the dance and perform it on his birthday and wedding anniversary. I think it'll be their forty-year mark, and I don't know what special color that is, but I thought it'd be a really nice surprise. So... will you help me?"
No pause. No hesitation. Just that same intoxicating grin that was beginning to have more of an effect on my heart every day. "You might as well start calling me Dancing King, because I'm going to out show you by the end of this. Of course, I'll do it."
Laughter escaped me. Relief flooded me. How fortunate was I that the universe brought me back here, back to him? Back to these stormy blue eyes, wonderful smile, and magical soothing touch? Everything about him was light and warmth, and I could stay here and bask in it for hours.
I plopped down next to him with an audible sigh of relief. "Thank you. I don't know what I would have done if you said no."
He nudged me with his elbow. "Oh, c'mon. I wouldn't have said no."
I smiled. "I had a feeling you wouldn't, but I'm grateful all the same." Now that I had his answer, I was riddled with more nerves. There's no turning back now.
My mind flashed back to the conversation Papa and I had. Try with courage he had said. Little does he know what I just got myself into. It was going to take a whole lot of damn courage to pull this off.
"So, do you have the VHS tape?"
"No, actually. Suzie has it — the one we lived with in California. Evellyn's sister." Up until this point, I didn't think about the fact that I was going to have to make that call. Suddenly, dread was masking the feel of my buzzing nerves. "I'll, uh, have to call her and ask her if she can find it and mail it over."
"Okay, no problem. And I think we could find some old tech at school that we can watch it on. We can record it on our phone so it's easier for us to look back to."
"Okay." I nodded and cupped my chin in my hands. "This may be the stupidest thing I've ever done. I don't... dance. Not even in my room! Well — "I paused "— maybe a little bit..."
"Well the four go-to dances you've seen me do, you caught on video for blackmail purposes and personal enjoyment, I'm sure. And one of them was just a fist pump in the air. I'm not the most experienced, either."
I snorted. "Great. We're the most qualified people in the world."
"Oh, don't fret just yet," Chris said in a silly, theatrical voice. He winked as my eyes narrowed. "Get that VHS tape and I'll take care of the rest."
I wiped a sweaty palm across my jeans. All day I've been mentally preparing what I would say to Suzie when she answered the phone. First, there'd be the formal greeting. Then she would ask how Papa and I were doing, how the cafe was running, and maybe even how I'm doing in my new school. I'd ask her how she is and what movies she's seen lately (since showing her the ways of a smart T.V., she's been all about renting movies to watch in her bedroom). Then I'd hit her with the request to find the tape. But no matter how many responses I prepared in my head, I still couldn't hit the call button.
Suddenly, my screen was blocked courtesy of a dirty, stained rag being thrown on top of it. "If you don't wipe that look of your face, I'll do it for ya."
"Ben!" I scowled and threw the rag in the direction of his retreating back. It zoomed right over his shoulder, his right ear hooking it before it could go any further. He yelped and turned to retaliate when a shout from behind the counter ceased any vengeful counterattack.
"Hey! Cut the shit – you're lucky we've closed up," Ronnie shouted at us before disappearing behind the kitchen doors. Ben put his hands up in a ceasefire and slid into the booth next to me.
"All right, all right, I'll stop. But who ya textin'? Whoever it is is making you frown in a funny way," he said, leaning over to take a peek at my phone.
"Not texting, just trying to call."
"Ah, I feel you. Cassady does the same thing. Has to rehearse in her mind what she's going to say before making a call. It's cute when she tries to order food. She'll rehearse to herself as the phone rings, before the person answers."
"Why don't you be a good boyfriend and just make the call for her?" I asked.
He shrugs. "I'm building her confidence! One phone call at a time."
At that, I had to nod. After all, I like to think I've upped my confidence by working with one customer at a time here at the cafe. "Point taken. But, anyway, I'm trying to call Papa's sister-in-law."
"The one you stayed with in California?"
"Yup, that's her," I sighed. "But I'm a little nervous to call her. Don't get me wrong – she wasn't mean to me or anything. I'm thankful she opened her home to us when Papa got sick. She took care of us. She drove me to school before I took the bus and sometimes cooked me breakfast in the morning. You know, things like that. She was nice enough..."
Ben tilted his head. "But...?"
"But... I think she and Papa act as a painful reminder to each other of Evellyn. Add me into the mix and I was a reminder to Suzie about the sister and nephew she lost."
It's true that Suzie never mistreated me, but she was distant. Our interactions were rarely organic. Our conversations felt more like strained small talk than conversation. Papa says that she and Evellyn weren't that close as siblings, but rather had done things like have the occasional catch up call every few months or send holiday cards when the occasion arrived. I have my own suspicion that she harbors guilt for not doing more before her sister died. I suspect that maybe it's the reason she opened her home to me and Papa during Papa's health battle but is reminded of her guilt every time she looks at us.
"She put a roof over our heads, but it always just felt like that. A roof over our heads. Never..."
"Like home?" he suggested, nodding in understanding. "Well, I think it explains a lot about why you're always saying you hate Cali. It just wasn't home to you." At that, Ben slid out of the booth, dirty rag in tow. He tossed it up in the air and caught it again in one swift movement, before tossing it back at me.
"Ben!" I growled back as the rag landed on my forearm resting on the table. This time, his retreat was much faster. The rag wasn't even close to touching him when I threw it.
"Glad to have you here, Darce! Gives me someone to annoy. Keeps the day interesting!" he called from over his shoulder before disappearing into the back. I huffed in annoyance, but didn't bother to smother a smile as I stood up from the booth and went to find Papa in the kitchen.
But, for some reason, Ben's words remained an echo in my head even as we closed up and headed out into the streets.
Home.
Earlier today, Ben and I talked a little about California. He knows I didn't like it there. He said "it never felt like home" for me. And I guess I never really thought to put it like that. And it just got me thinking – what is home to me? When does something feel like home? How many homes have I had?
It didn't feel like home with my dad. But the orphanage did. And my apartment with Papa now feels like home. But California? No. It never made me feel like how I do now. Am I mean to think that California wasn't home to me? I mean, Suzie was nice to me. She would take me to the grocery store so we could buy snacks for my lunch. We'd go to Kohls a few times a year to buy some new clothes when the seasons changed or I outgrew stuff. She let me paint the bedroom I was staying in any color I wanted. And, of course, she helped Papa with whatever he needed. Took him to appointments, picked up his medications, made the calls. Things like that. But I don't know – there's this distance that we were never really able to close. We're too much of a painful reminder.
I didn't know what home felt like for so long. I didn't know there was this intangible feeling that came with "being home." I think I would call the orphanage my first home. But why? I guess... because it felt like a haven. When I moved in with Papa, it felt like that too. Within those walls was safety. Warmth. Comfort. Company. Love. Acceptance. It was a place that was mine and that I knew I could run to if things out in the world became too much. A place I could turn to rest. Where I could be myself and be loved for doing just that. But then I guess when we moved to California, it felt different. Like I was intruding. Like I was a guest overstaying her welcome, and not like an actual member of the family.
Suzie probably has her guilt. But I think I have my own, too. I know Papa loves me. And I know he wouldn't want me to think this way. He told me himself yesterday, when I watched him dance around the living room and then broke down into stupid tears. He said I was his beacon. His north star. He said Evellyn would've loved me and he seemed so sure when he said that. Would Gray and I have gotten along? What kind of siblings would we be?
God, is this survivor's guilt? Is that what this is? My bedroom in California should've been the guest bedroom for Gray. The bedroom Papa slept in was for him and Evellyn. It should've been for them. It should be them...
"It should be them," I echoed in a broken whisper. I dropped the pencil and journal onto my lap and clutched my head.
Such toxic thinking, Darce!
No amount of wishing will bring them back. No amount of dwelling over the "what-ifs" is going to change anything. But these thoughts are my monsters for the night, and they've come out to play.
I felt like a pot threatening to boil over. It was all too much. My heart feels pierced with sorrow. My head feels like it's going to burst open with the sheer amount of thoughts pushing at the seams of my skull. I want to run from the echoes in my head. I want to hide from the emotions that pulse strong with every beat of my heart. I want... I need...
I pulled at the covers, searching for my phone. When I finally found it, I scrolled through my contacts until I found the one person I knew would be my voice of calm and reason. I smashed my thumb against the call button.
"Please pick up. Pick up," I begged in a whisper, pressing my forehead against my palm. I let the tears freely fall as the ringing stopped and the person on the other side answered in greeting.
"Hello? Darce?"
"Jessica," I sniffed. I swiped a sleeved arm across my eyes. "I need you."
ahhh, it feels so nice to put out a chapter again <3 since updating, i've turned 21 and went back to school! really wanted to put out a new chapter before school got busy and then i ended up having an anatomy exam right after coming back so lolol. stay tuned for some darcy/jessica/reece action in the next chapter. as always, your patience is very much appreciated. just another struggling college student doing her best out, ya know <3
chapter q: what does home mean to you?
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