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"i know what that spells, daddy!" iliana chimes as she settles in directly at silas' side, like the cutest barnacle that's ever existed. amara and theo laugh, waiting as the timer ticks down before their characters take off into the map of rainbow road. silas scoots out ahead even though both he and amara got the speed boost to start. it's almost annoying, being constantly behind; a metaphor amara finds herself realizing she felt more often than not in her marriage. even if silas didn't cause it directly. after spending most of her life knowing she was the smartest, it took its own toll. but as it is with most things, amara catches up.

on lap three, she waits and lets silas lead. she watches him take out each opponent that tries to reach first place. a few times she makes sure to take first in order to make it seem like she's not just riding his coat tails while he does all the work. just as they're heading into the final stretch, amara goes for a glowing box and within the roll of luck - she pulls a blue shell. with mario and luigi on silas' tail, he isn't paying attention to the fact that she's coming up right behind them. she releases the shell and pushes hard enough to pass all three right after the bomb has been dropped. the swiftness of the move propels her kart across the finish line.

iliana and theo cheer when yoshi is claimed the victor. "would you like a best two out of three bet?" amara asks, smugness seeping into her smirk. "the only thing you handed to me just now was the first place trophy." theo's smile grows wider, excited at the idea of watching his parents competitive streak return to the days of his even younger youth. "you pick the course, dad." and amara nods in agreement, "the loser should get the advantage."

“well, he did!” silas argues, knuckles tapping on the counter as lips spread into a smile. “but that doesn’t make it any less true.” he sits back, looking her in the eyes and folding his arms over his chest. did it irk him that picassouche was borderline flirting with his wife? yes. it did. what happened that night had been a response to insecurity. it wasn’t something he had experienced within their marriage. not like the masquerade ball, when he punched noah and got into a—literally—bloody brawl. he wouldn’t sucker punch anyone as a grown adult and father but that wasn’t something that was totally off the table. he’d do anything for his children—and amara, too. get his knuckles bloody or cover up a murder for one of them, anything. the expression on his face softens when his ex-wife talks fondly of his compliments. “did you just compliment my compliments, perez?” a bit of heat pricks at the nape of his neck and cheeks. 

it’s a good thing that iliana and theo come barging into the room; otherwise, the flirtations might have continued and taken them into dangerous, abandoned territory. the blond’s demeanor remains bright as the kitchen is filled by their children’s joyful and eager voices. he pushes up from his seat to follow behind the trio but stops as amara turns and looks back at him. “oh, i remember.” their competitive streaks made any game fun because neither of them went easy on each other. silas knew that if he let amara win, it would make more upset than if he beat her. 

sporting a very serious demeanor, he takes the controller and then plops onto the couch next to amara. he selects princess peach, rousing a giggle out of the kids. “are you ready to get your b-u-t-t handed to you, amara?” eyes aim a narrowed, combative glower. as the game starts, silas hits the gas and drives ahead, indiscriminately throwing shells and banana peels at anyone ahead of him. a menacing cackle erupts from his chest.

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she's surprised when she notices the sudden shift in silas, how he almost shrinks into himself. where they once were the perfect balance for each other, they now seem to be on a seesaw. when one goes up, the other comes down. amara didn't mean to make it that way. she tries her best to cheerfully reply to him, "it's in my office at work; the focal point of the room, like it's meant to be." she winks, trying to pull him back from the trenches of whatever feeling or memory he's stuck within. she prefers to think about when they hung the painting in the dining room. how their mock argument turned into the kind of insulting, flirty banter they'd had when they first met. none of it real, all of it enticing them to make use of the fact that their house had been child-free that night. amara wishes they could have it back.

but when silas recalls the exact comment from when the piece was given to her, amara knows she's assessed his mood correctly. "i thought he 'got that compliment from a 'how to compliment' book for dummies.' wasn't that what you said?" she waits for him to stand a little straighter, to feel pushed enough to give her some fight before she cools him back off. "your compliments are better, because they're real." or at least at one point they were. for what ego or falseness silas could have at times, the genuine compliments he gave to people were always some of the most thoughtful ones she'd ever heard. no one would assume someone like silas would notice them in such a deep way but when he did, it could stop a person dead in their tracks.

iliana appears at her father's side without either he or his ex-wife noticing, taking them by surprise. "daddy, it's your turn!" the little girl beams as she hands her controller to silas. there was a lot of work on sharing going on and despite silas being iliana's natural first choice, she was getting better at it. "you too, mom!" theo calls from the couch. "i set up rainbow road since iliana and i can't play it together." his sheepish voice makes amara laugh, heading in that direction before turning back to silas with a smile. "come on, princess peach. it's time for you to remember how good i am at this."

bright hues draw into slits, attention remains undivided on her facial expressions. body hunches forward, arms folded and resting atop of the counter, taking in amara's features on this rare occasion. he fights the urge to reach out and touch her face. trace a thumb under her lower lip, admit that their divorce had been a mistake and if she wants to put the blame on him, he'll accept it, as long as they can be together again. lately he's been feeling nothing but uninspired and lost.

however, as she recalls the night the painting had been gifted to her, his thoughts close in and everything goes black. it had been a milestone in her career, hadn't it? something to celebrate, isn't that what he had wanted when they left that gala. when his former art teacher put in the good word for her and she got an interview in this very same city that held so many possibilities and a future. your means of punishment are more thought out. he can't help staring at her as if her words had twisted his heart and wringed out the blood. it wouldn't have been as painful. he hadn't meant for her to think he was punishing her. he would never do that to someone he someone he loves. that night, he made something so special for her about him. instead of lashing out with a fit of jealousy and doubt (more suspicion about the man's intentions and motives), he should have showed her how proud he was to be her husband and not gone to sleep huffing and puffing.

he follows her gaze to the piece that had replaced the painting. lips part open but instead of boasting about how tasteful their kids are because they inherited it from him, he just turned his head down and rubbed the back of his neck. fingers run over the short blond hair that has been growing since the buzzcut incident. "but of course, it does look much better." silas' throat feels dry before adding, "i hope you kept it, at least." he stares into the lukewarm liquid inside his cup then looks her in the eyes. "most uniquely beautiful person, isn't that what it said? stanley wasn't lying."

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with a comedic wiggle of her eyebrows at the use of the word sinister in relation to her, amara leans forward on the island to hear silas' thoughts. his answer is anything but surprising. it elicits a laugh from her that sounded like something he used to be able to cause frequently. because of course that was what he would choose. "that makes total sense," she can admit when she regains her composure. "you never did like that thing." and though it's gorgeous, even amara can admit her own complicated feelings towards it.

the night it was gifted to her had been tumultuous to say the least. it was back when they were young, theo was barely out of the toddler stage and iliana had been born barely six months prior. emotions and stress were constantly fluctuating in tandem but amara was starting to take leaps in her career; and after watching silas receive his accolades in a steady procession, she'd been delighted to be the co-curator at one of seattle's best art galleries. even better, being given a piece by an artist who had officially put her curating talents on the map was just the cherry on top. if not for the somewhat inappropriate words that followed. "a uniquely beautiful piece for the most uniquely beautiful person i've met in this world."

silas had taken it in stride, waiting until they got home that night to question what was going on. amara almost finds herself missing that version of him now - wonders if she hadn't shot down his jealousy and told him to be better than it, he may have fought a little harder when their marriage began to fall apart. "your means of punishment are always more thought out than some simple destruction of property," she notes, not as a dig but as a simple truth. "it's not here anymore." amara's gaze moves to where it used to hang in their dining room. "the kids wanted something with more color and i couldn't argue with how pretty it is. they have your taste." she gestures for silas to look at what hangs on the wall. a new piece for a new time, and one that read as something their father would have picked himself.

if only for a second, silas' eyes widen. his glass planet display is harmless and hurts no one! a far away memory of a younger, giddier and green self, browsing the shops for decor for his brand new office. had it not been for amara, that collectible wouldn't be in his possession in the first place. while he was a self-proclaimed connoisseur, it only doubled in the company of an artist. "you're more sinister than i thought." perhaps it's true what they say: once the rose colored glasses wear off, you finally see someone's true colors. except two can play that game.

fingers idly tap on the ceramic as he ponders her question. truthfully, it never once crossed his mind to destroy something of hers. maybe because he knows how much she treasures her possessions and how careful she selects them. although... there is that painting who's meaning he fails to understand but that isn't the reason why he wants to tear thing to shreds.

it was the artist who gifted her the piece that made his skin crawl with jealousy and a dash of vexation. back then, of course, he had to play the part of doting husband. someone giving such a... gift to his wife is supposed to be a compliment. "your stanley carson piece." he answers, concealing the venom hiding underneath his words. she found it charming and what was he to do? "it deserves to go straight into the garbage. it's not even worth the fuel." while it was a harsh thing to say, these divorced couple exercises might convince him that they had made the right choice. instead of thinking of what could be, the what-ifs.

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THE PRINCESS BRIDE 1987, dir. Rob Reiner

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—Virginia Woolf, "Mrs. Dalloway"

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the affection could have sent her mind spinning, had she not been aware of what journey lay ahead of them. charlie's sweet kisses would be moments to return to, in her solitude of the future in which he wouldn't be in front of her doing exactly this. "i know you won't," bea replies with a kiss to him of her own. one that's got a bit more gusto behind it, pulling away only when she hears another whistle of warning from joe. "and i don't intend to let anythin' happen to you either." it was as close to a promise as either of them could make, and that was more than good enough for bea.

there's an instantaneous kinship between the three of them on the road, especially between joe and bea. "well that makes sense," she calls up to him. "given that you look so much older than us." her hands take a stronger hold around charlie's middle, winking at him when he turns around to smile at her. if the other outlaw wants to tease, he should know he's messing with the world champion of it. "you know, i've always wanted a daddy. any chance you're single, joe? my mama's quite the looker. we could find you someone to make googly eyes at if that's somethin' you're interested in." at that the horse ahead of them slowly come to a stop, with joe pausing until charlie and bea are at his side. the young woman beams beneath the straw hat her mother gave her before they all departed. "i know you're a travelin' man but i think the women in my family are prone to finding that attractive." she snorts when joe's gaze narrows, taking in her claim to see how genuine it is until he realizes it's not. "you're a spitfire. i like it."

it's enough of a compliment for bea to take deep down into her soul. even if she and charlie lost each other sooner rather than later, she'd always have these few days where she felt enthusiastically alive. where she laughed and smiled in equal measure and found a few people who met her personality with open arms, the way she'd always wanted to be embraced. "in all seriousness, what's the plan beyond that marriage certificate? what do y'all need me to do?"

although charlie almost blanches at the thought of bea witnessing what he does for a living, it is in everyone’s best interest that the necklace be pawned as soon as possible. since the gang is staying at the dubois farm, they are all prime suspects and guilty by association. when she bats her thick, dark lashes, his train of thought derails. a big, dopey grin spreads across his face, reaching out to grab her by the arms and leaning forward to plant a spontaneous kiss on her lips. “you’re somethin’, bea, somethin’ truly special.” he whispers after pulling back but keeping a hold on her.

their moment is interrupted as joe approaches the pair and whistles to get their attention. he dips his head and gives them both a knowing look before turning his attention to charlie, “you ready t’go? y’all can keep on canoodling when we return… if we return.” his voice is light in spite of what comes out of it albeit sincere. the other bandit shakes his head, “ah, don’t sound so grim, joe. we’ll come back.” charlie says after gently releasing bea and placing his hands over his pistols, “‘cause we got ourselves a shooter.” head tilts in the songstress’ direction.

for a second, joe looks on in disbelief but he knows not to judge a book by its cover. charlie seemed all prim and proper when they first pulled him out of a river and now he was a solid criminal that spoke like the rest of them. “well, welcome aboard, miss bell. we’ve never had a lady in our crew so i must warn ya, things might get a little intense but since ya’ willfully volunteered, i reckon you’re up for th’ job.”

to think that last night they’d both been lamenting saying goodbye. thank ya’ oysters. charlie feels it’s inappropriate to be grateful that poor stu got the stomach bug but fortunately, it wasn’t fatal. it means he gets to spend a couple of more days with bea and he was going to cherish every second. “i won’t let anythin’ happen to you.” he takes both her hands and squeezes them before planting a soft kiss on her cheek.

after they all say their goodbyes, they take off on the road on their respective horses. joe leads the pair along the trail, whistling a cheerful tone then pauses. “so here’s how we’re gonna play it out when we go into town,” he begins, “i’m gonna say i’m bea’s father who’s accompanying her and her husband to get a marriage certificate.” since his back is turned to them, they can’t see the grin on his face. “i figured that’s the best story we can come up with since you two can’t stop makin’ googly eyes at each other.” grifting isn’t charlie’s strongest talent let alone in the presence of someone he seems to be besotted by.

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amara didn't remember buying silas the sweater, but it causes her infatuation with it to makes more sense. she smiles at his teasing, covering her mouth with her hand as giggles threaten to spill from her. "i didn't have a list," she rebuttals, though there were a few key things that came to mind. "clothes wouldn't have been on it, anyway. but some of your more expensive office decor…" her voice trails off as she shrugs innocently. "you could buy a new wardrobe but those special pieces you love…" amara's fingers tap around her cup of coffee in a menacing fashion. "would have been harder to replace."

in her darkest hours, amara had definitely thought about causing some destruction; wanting to make a point that may have been heard louder than something that came from yet another verbal altercation. they'd both been equally petty just as they had been at the very beginning of their relationship. or rather, back when they still loathed each other. "your glass planet display called to me. many times. except i've always thought it was one of the most beautiful things we-" amara stutters, correcting herself quickly, "you own. so, it was spared." she takes a few calming sips in order to stop herself from over-explaining, from appearing like she cared too much or was enjoying herself by teasing or threatening him.

"what about you? did you look at anything of mine and think: if i set this on fire or toss it outside to let the rain ruin it, i wonder how bent out of shape i can make her?" his ex-wife's dark hues narrow, "don't lie, you little deviant. i know the way you think."

their easy conversation shows that it’s possible for them to co-parent civilly. silas turns his body halfway to spare a glance at the living room. their kids smashing buttons and yelling, attention completely absorbed by the screen’s flashing lights. it brings a soft smile to his face, well, a conscious one. he hadn’t noticed the one that’s been sitting on his lips throughout their not alone, alone time in the kitchen. appearing as though he was subtly bewitched.

“i’d rather she express herself than keep it all in but i understand where you’re coming from. we’ll be partially responsible for who they become someday.” as much as he jokes about their behavior or pokes fun at their quirks, silas has a positive outlook on their children’s future. “when the younger generations inevitably destroy the planet, they won’t be among the tyranny. they’ll either live or die as heroes.” he expresses dramatically then lifts his mug in a mock toast before taking a gulp. there’s a distinction between a regular coffee and amara’s that can’t be compared. even his fancy nespresso machine is no competition. he holds back from closing his eyes and emitting a pleased hum.

“you bought me this sweater.” a soft smile tugs at the corner of his lips. coincidentally, he had worn it on a day that he’d see her. everything else he owned doesn’t exactly scream ‘field trip chaperone.’ being accustomed to suits and dress shirts of various colors. he figured that those might have been a bit too flashy for the rest of the faculty and their affliction to beige. amara would have probably accused him of showing off and being overdressed for a museum. “but now i’m curious, what other pieces have you thought of ruining?” a brow rises inquisitively, he pretends to look aghast by the comment but he can’t hide the mischievous glimmer in his eyes. they have no real reason to spare each other’s feelings anymore and he’s eager to know what she truly thinks about him. a hand gently settles on the counter’s surface as his eyes level on hers, “and don’t hold back.”

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Anaïs Nin, Delta of Venus, originally published: 1977

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the trees you grew up with have not forgotten you. their branches still whisper your name in the breeze and their roots remember the paths your feet once traced through their shade.

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Leila Mottley, from Woke Up No Light; Poems; "when the tinder doesn't spark,"

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RACHEL ZEGLER via Instagram (March 16, 2025)

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in their short time together, bea's been able to paint what she believes to be a clear picture of who charlie thinks he is. the problem is that vision doesn't align with the charlie she sees. they're at odds for the most part, sharing some traits but on the whole - they're different. she watches his gaze move from her to over his shoulder and back again. nervous, pensive, deeply ashamed even though he shouldn't be. she wants to ask if he hurt someone in order to get that necklace but before she can, bea realizes she doesn't care one way or the other. they've all hurt people. or worse, if she allows herself to recognize charlie has probably done certain things she may have been frightened by. but if he's ashamed, it doesn't stick around too long. he and his men need help.

beatrice listens closely, wondering if charlie is asking what she thinks he's asking. nothing is explicit: he's giving her the chance to wish him well and send the men on their way. but of course that's not the option a girl like her would choose. she's used to getting up to her version of no good, and her shooting skills having always been above average. mr. dubois taught her how to go toe-to-to with him, and he'd fought in a war. surely that had to count for something.

"i could be your shooter," she beams, unapologetic; coming at the problem head-on and unafraid of what the consequences might be. for most of her life, bea had been bored. she looked for attention, and sometimes trouble. being with charlie could give her a bit of both. it was an easy yes to give, if that's what the cowboy was looking for. "havin' a lady with the two of you might call less suspicion, too." she bats her eyelashes and widens her dark hues with a smile, "and look at me…" bea says as she takes a small step closer to him, calling on the last bit of womanly wiles she has in order to finalize the plan. "who would believe i'm up to no good?"

"please don't leave me behind." stu begs after swallowing the pill bea had supplied. a bad oyster isn't going to kill stu because this isn't his first time at the rodeo. it just renders him bedridden and in no condition to travel miles to the next town. which is a shame because he's one of their best shots. by a fluke that they encounter any trouble, they'd be down to charlie and joe. randy's good on a physical fight and overall defense but has a terrible aim. an exasperated laugh falls out of charlie's lips, "wouldn't dream of it, stu. ya' get a good rest now. we'll get everythin' handled." he offers an assuring nod before stepping out of the barn.

the instant their gazes connect, charlie looks away in shame. some cowboys are honest working people, passing by towns and working in farms for a silver dime. others storm towns, stealing from anyone that has something take. taking the earnings of hardworking folks and generationally wealthy people. their gang only swindles from the rich so that makes them not as bad as the latter but not as honorable as the aforementioned. nevertheless, stealing is stealing. he feels undeserving to be in the presence of someone as principled and honest as bea.

"it ain't that, bea. i trust ya'..." even though they met merely hours ago, there's something about her that feels safe, trustworthy. "i just—it's just that you're too good." charlie steps closer, catching her deep gaze in his. "and 'm not." he whispers, shoulders slump defeatedly. tongue runs along his lower lip, looking over his shoulder then back at her, "we stole a necklace from a real important guy's daughter. he's likely searchin' for us that's why we were in hurry 'bout gettin' out of town." he explains, drawing in a deep breath. cerulean hues widen slightly, teeth worry at his lesser lip, "a couple of us are gonna have t' go over to the next town and pawn the necklace so it's someone else's problem. joe and i are goin' but we're down by one shooter. that would be stu but as ya' can see he's not feelin' so hot..."

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quiet laughter comes from her, both at silas' joke about their children and his fear that amara might dump her coffee over him. "like i said this morning, you haven't given me reason to do such a thing." her own smile mirrors his, lighter and less strained than the rest of their day together. "but i will admit i've definitely had thoughts of ruining other pieces of your clothing. never that sweater, though. i've always liked it." she remains where she is, situating herself back against the counter for support. her gaze scans silas and familiar thoughts return. how handsome he looks, how the sweater he's wearing accentuates the color of his eyes. the truth, despite both of their teasing, hangs between them. they've had their moments through their separation and divorce, but something as trivial as ruining each other's things hadn't been a preferred method of warfare.

finally there seems to be a level of calm between them that silas and amara haven't had in quite some time. seeing him back in the home they built their family in and subsequently lost is more bitter than sweet, but amara finds his presence about as normal as it can be. she doesn't notice theo's attention, or iliana's; how their son pulls her back and stops her when she attempts to get up from the couch to join her parents. seeing silas in her kitchen is reminiscent of the feeling she got the first time they were together and she woke up to his body still beside her. she fears that if she does anything to break the bubble, she'll regret it. she'll lose him before she has a chance to appreciate the fact that he's here. and that they're getting along.

"plus, we're not alone, alone." she juts her chin over his shoulder, gesturing to their kids. "i have to set a good example." amara's voice softens in an effort to not be overheard, "we don't need to give your daughter another method of 'expressing her emotions' that could end up with a major mess." iliana had already found plenty of ways to voice her disapproval of the certain injustices to her short life without learning more from her parents.

once their group of four had settled for dinner, having iliana and theo made the conversation run smoothly their voices filled in the silences that neither silas nor amara could have sealed. from there on, things had improved since the afternoon's debacle. he noticed that his ex-wife appeared more relaxed and eased into being in close proximity. although the thought that his presence made her uncomfortable does make him uneasy, he does his best not to overstep.

after kicking off their shoes in different directions, the kids race down the hallway. theo cheers in triumph after beating iliana to turn on the television and console. no fair you cheated! cheater cheater pumpkin eater! silas picks up their shoes and lines them up in neatly against the wall. a familiar aroma beckons him towards the kitchen, he stops under the door frame and watches amara. when she turns up, he freezes and returns the smile. "it's been a minute since i've had coffee this late." it's easy to blame it on laziness but the truth is that drinking a cup of coffee alone in the evening doesn't feel the same. "thanks." he takes the mug and lifts it towards his lips.

"four? that's quite generous of you. i give them two." a chuckles leaves his lips, glancing in the direction of the living room. pushing his sleeves up his arms, silas remembers what amara said earlier. i hate that it's like this. in response, he simply sat there, looking absolutely stupid, dumbfounded and quite frankly, speechless. swallowing the knot that formed in his throat, overcome by emotion that he didn't think would crash onto him like a giant sea swell. "this is nice..." lips curl into an appreciative smile, nodding slowly before drawing in a deep breath. "we're here, alone and you haven't poured your coffee over my head. thank god, by the way. this is one of my favorite sweaters."

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Now you hang from my lips Like the Gardens of Babylon With your boots beneath my bed Forever is the sweetest con

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they both take off in a run for the barn within a few paces of each other the whole way and when charlie asks for cold cloths, bea sprints back home. along with some compresses, she brings two antihistamines in the form of pills that were given to her family by the dubois'. "try to get him to swallow this, it'll help with the swelling in his throat." even without knowing much, bea can tell there's some kind of poison pumping through the man's body. she drapes one cloth across his forehead, waits for charlie to get the pill down him before draping the other against his neck. "just give it time."

beatrice steps back, removing herself from the barn altogether. so the men could talk, or plot and plan. whatever they thought was best. she felt guilty for hoping stuart's condition was a slow progression back to health but still the thoughts remain until charlie comes outside. "what is it y'all stole?" she asks quietly, having gathered the information from stuart's slip up and general knowledge about bandits. or the kinds of cowboys who came into town and left shortly thereafter. they weren't ranchers. they weren't lugging around money like they'd robbed a bank. beatrice knew what was left: jewels and gold.

"i won't say anythin'." dark hues take him in, assessing what charlie actually makes of her. was he hiding the truth to protect her or because whatever it is they've stolen is too valuable to even utter the name? under her breath she adds, "you can't have laid with me all night, wanting what we wanted… and think i'd sell you out. i don't need to be a rat to get paid." bea wasn't afraid to sing like a canary when it came to bad men. she'd sell an evil man down the river without blinking. but not charlie. not that group of men she knows he's helping protect by staying silent. "i wouldn't do that to you."

"well, how 'bout that? so am i." charlie whispers in bea's hair, moving a hand out of her dress, gently smoothing and tidying up the skirt. somehow it makes perfect sense that they'd argue over on who would give the other affection. not that such day would ever come. he'll be gone come morning. so he holds her close, taking in the scent of her hair, memorizing the weight of her body on his, her gentle breathing after falling deep in sleep. lulling him into a slumber that takes him amply, reminiscent of a time when things had been simple with a twinge of longing.

what wakes him from such a wonderful shuteye are voices that only become recognizable once he's gained enough conscious. the pounding in his head is nothing foreign. those glasses of whiskey always seem to catch up in the mornings and he usually wakes up with a killer hangover from drinking the day before. startled by the older woman that he can assume is bea's mother, he sits up and looks down at his half unbuttoned shirt. an anxious grin cracks his lips, holding back a curse. foul language in the presence of a respectable individual is disrespectful. fingers quickly work the buttons to the top before scrambling up to greet bea's mother.

"'s nice to finally meet you, ms. bell." since beatrice's last name is bell he assumes that's the case for the missus. he extends a hand for a handshake then contemplates her invitation before looking in the direction of the barn where the rest of the gang are. they’re probably getting ready to leave, anxious to get that jewel they stole pawned in the town located a couple miles away from the scene of the crime. it brought less suspicion among authorities seeking a gang of thieves. their portraits on the posters had been so poorly drawn, lacking their likeness and relying on witnesses that had only seen a blur of them. charlie knew for a fact that he wasn't that hideous. except he'd be stupid to complain about it.

"that's mighty kind of you, ma'am but-" a frantic joe sprints across the barn and interrupts their conversation, eyes wide and wild. "charlie! you gotta come quick. it's stu. he's burnin' up with a fever." charlie pulls on the suspenders hanging by his hips whilst listening. it must have been something he ate. stu is always gorging on delicacies. it must be true what they say, too much of a good thing is a bad thing.

as they approach the barn to check on stu, he's laying on a pile of hay, red as a lobster and sweating like a piglet. "stu... stuart? how are ya' feelin'?" charlie kneels beside the agonizing male, unafraid of catching anything if what stu has is contagious, "oh charles, i ain't ever wanna see an oyster in my life again." he groans then yelps as charlie smacks his arm, "i told ya' not to eat that stuff." seafood has a strange effect on his body. makes his throat close up. the doctors ruled it as an allergy and charlie has never touched it since he was six. he can't imagine it doing any good.

"bea, do you have some cloths we might be able to use to drench cold water to keep stu here cool?" he asks after rising from beside stu and stepping towards her.

"we gotta get out of town." one of the bandits urged, "what about th' ne-" charlie clears his throat, meets the other’s eyes and shakes his head slowly. well, this puts a delay on their plans.

[hwrote]

in the same regard that theo took after his mother, iliana was in equal measures just like silas. not only did their daughter take after him looks wise, but their personalities were identical in just about every way. theo rolls his eyes at iliana's teasing, wishing there was a world in which he got to have his parents company without having to share the spotlight with her. but he'd gotten them for the whole day, time he'll cherish both now and when he's older; and iliana hadn't. older brother instincts take over and allow her the opportunity to have silas and amara's undivided attention. "no one died, iliana. grandpa artie is fine," amara replies with a laugh. their daughter was at the age where morbidity was becoming a common topic of conversation. that post-kindergarten clarity brought forth endless questions about life and what comes after. "we're having dinner together tonight."

after the silence of iliana's processing, theo quickly adds, "and dad gets to come over after, too." it makes iliana beam. her hand shoots up for silas when he stands, taking it in favor of driving with him over theo and amara. "for mario kart?" the little girl asks as she and her family make their way towards their vehicles. "mario kart, dessert. whatever you want." amara smiles down at both of her children, hoping silas takes the comment at face value; as an apology without actually giving one.

"daddy, i want noodles and company," iliana notes, receiving no push back from theo or amara. it had options, it wasn't particularly fancy, and they would have plenty of time to be together back at the house this way. amara wonders if iliana's thought of those things, if she didn't opt for a hibachi experience because she wanted as much of her dad's unadulterated company as she could get. amara stops at her car with theo, letting silas know the plan was fine with her. "we'll meet you two over there."

their dinner, thankfully, lacked the awkwardness of theo's field trip. silas and amara's conversation flows easier when it's lead by their two children. the less they had to sit with themselves, the better. she doesn't protest when silas offers to pay for everyone, doesn't bat an eyelash when she has to take theo and iliana's backpacks so silas and their kids can pick up dessert on the way. as long as it makes them happy. she manages to get home, change into a more comfortable outfit, and start warming up a small pot of decaf coffee for she and her ex-husband to enjoy before the kids burst through the front door. sugared up on ice cream, they barely even acknowledge her presence before turning on mario kart. when silas enters the kitchen just off the living room, she pushes a cup across the island for him. "just in case you need a little bitter after all that sweet."

they'd picked up that idea - a decaf after dessert - while on their first spring break trip together. it was a very french, or in their case, french canadian thing to do and for amara, the habit stuck. she smiles at him, remembering the countless nights they've engaged in this ritual. "they probably won't last more than four races before they're fighting each other, so, i'd drink that fast if i was you."

their daughter's outbursts are untamable. once she starts, there's really no stopping it. it's disconcerting how that much wrath fits into such a small body. except silas recognizes iliana's tantrums as if he's looking right into the past, at a tinier, slighter more chaotic child with identical golden waves and an ambition to gain control of a situation far too unattainable. amara's right, there's on point in arguing about that.

be honest with yourself. green optics sharply settle on her dark, pleading expression. upon letting out a defeated, nearly theatrical sigh, forearms rest lazily on the table's surface. "i guess not." he rolls his eyes upward before crushing the empty bag in his hand into a ball. a small but visible smile slowly spreads across his lips at the memory but as soon as he realizes what his muscles are doing, he clears his throat and takes the last swig of his soda bottle. as theo retreats to join the rest of his classmates, silas tosses the crumpled bag and bottle into the trash can at arms length from them.

as amara starts off at an apology, he raises an eyebrow and waits for her to finish. feigning disinterest in her and whatever she has to say now that their son isn't there. what finally comes out of her lips cracks through his callousness and reveals a jolt of surprise. as if she read his thoughts and unlike him, had the courage to express them. before his lips even open to speak and muster something to say, she walks away, leaving him soaking in the confession. for the remainder of the field trip, silas remains uncharacteristically quiet and speaking only when spoken to. still charming and extroverted as ever but with an air of self-consciousness and unease that only amara would recognize.

when they return to the school and iliana parades down the steps, followed by her clique. she waves goodbye before squealing and sprinting towards her family. "mommy! daddy! theosaur!" some of the kids had been making fun of her after her parents divorce had been the talk of those meddling pta parents so she made sure to let it be known that her father hadn't abandoned her and that her mother wasn't miserable. "how's my sugar plum fairy princess?" silas kneels down to eye level, taking her backpack off her shoulders and holding it. iliana huffs and sighs, "not good." she pouts, "it's not fair theodork got to spend time with you guys alllllll day while i was stuck here for-ever." their daughter sticks her tongue at her older brother. "did something happen?" it's so rare that both her parents come to pick them up from school. "who died? grandpa artie?" only that old man threw tantrums that would put hers to shame and he's also one of the oldest people she knows making him the most susceptible to be a victim of the grim reaper.

[hwrote]

amara takes note of the pointed cheeto being forced in her direction, and with a polite smile responds, "no, silas. i have no fear about getting my butt kicked. what i do fear," she says as she looks down at their son pointedly, "is our daughter trying to play, losing, and then throwing a meltdown of epic proportions. i'd like the evening to be pleasant, if that's all right with you." the final statement comes out a with a level of acidity she didn't intend, the subliminal messaging right in front of his face: don't leave me to clean up a mess you make with your children.

in an attempt to once again cool off tensions, she adds, "besides, i don't think you've beat me on that level since the first day we had the game. be honest with yourself." amara giggles cause an instant ease in theo, knowing that for all his mother's losses, what she said is true. she's undefeated on rainbow road. but when her gaze rises to meet silas, she understands how that final comment sounded. it's something that was said at another time, with a far heavier connotation. dark hues plead with him, in a flash, to stay level.

as if the universe knew what might be coming, theo's teacher calls the children to get ready to head out on the final portion of their field trip, telling the once couple they've got about five more minutes to themselves. the second after theo heads off and is out of ear shot, amara turns back and prays they aren't headed for another spat. "i wasn't trying to-" the words die in her throat. what is she trying to do, exactly? what is she feeling? this is not a moment in which she wants silas to feel bad. she never wants him to feel bad. amara starts to put the rest of her small lunch away, staying quiet as she does so; breathing slowly and carefully as something sharp cuts through the jumbled mess of her mind. "i hate that it's like this," she admits before having a chance to stop herself. more than that, she hates that it ever got like this to begin with. she rises and takes her unfinished lunch along with her before he can respond; rejoining their son and the rest of theo's class so she can't say anything else that could cause an issue.

today is starting to feel taxing and it makes silas feel terrible. spending more hours with his son should bring joy and it does but he also feels uneasy. pulling the weight of his armor and devising comebacks as though he was a less developed version of himself from years ago. a challenge that he needs to face sooner than later. things won't go back to the way they used to be and it's time to reach the stage of acceptance in his journey of grieving a failed marriage.

"oh, i'm not busy at all." he sniffs after pulling away from his thoughts and lifting a shoulder in a shrug, "i freed up my schedule for the entire day for this excursion." running against time during a field trip would not only add to the stress but it's also a jerk move to rush an entire group of children or dip out in the middle of the day to go to work. silas is the director at the science center and practically runs it so he's going to demonstrate just how much sway he has. "i'm in." lips stretch into a soft smile as he looks at his son then shift for a second in amara's direction.

theo bounces his leg underneath the table, a clear indication that his son is pleased and despite the awkwardness that awaits them tonight, silas feels a rush of secondhand happiness. both he and their son let out an exaggerated groan in unison as his ex-wife declares that they will not be racing on rainbow road. the blond aims a sneer at the brunette from across the table, he sticks a hand into his bag of cheetos. "why? are you afraid of getting your as- butt kicked?" using a puffed corn snack to point at her, "hmm?"