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talesofnox · 4 years ago

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(Yes I did the editing. like it or love it?)

word count: 1515

tags: newsies, newsies live, newsie movie, kid blink, kid blink newsies, newsies writing, newsies headcanon, newsies imagine, newsies fluff, newsies fanfiction, newsies blurb, newsies oneshot, newsies drabble, kid blink oneshot, kid blink imagine, kid blink drabble, kid blink fanfiction, kid blink headcanon, writing, oneshot, imagine, drabble, fanfiction, blurb, headcanon

a/n: I do not know any of the characters’ actors personally, nor do I own the rights to their characters. What’s written below the tag is a work of fiction and should subsequently be treated as such. I am essentially using the actors as a face-claim and almost never, a name-claim. I am creating my own character and using the actor / character as a secondary fictional character, using features for details. I do not and never would directly associate the actors with any ideas used in my own writing. This writing is to be used for entertainment and fictional purposes only. Thank you for understanding and if you do not understand, fuck off, please and not thank you.

Newsie Headcanon

THE STORY OF NEWSIES LIVE: KID BLINK

So…Newsie Live: Kid Blink

He does not wear an eyepatch on his face (most likely so it is easier for Andy to dance)

We get to sea him directly about 57 minutes into the show, where he is retrieving his block of papers from Wiesel

But, God damn it(‘scuse my language), he is a scab at this point in time, but we never get to know the canon reason he does not where an eyepatch, so I came up with a Headcanon about why exactly the newsies call him Kid Blink

FLASHBACK

Blink was young when he joined the street rats as a newsie, maybe 7 at the time

His father had been absent for most of his life

He lived with his mother who worked in a brothel in New Jersey

She was an amazing mom, never even giving a hint to any of her clients that Blink (Or if we’re using his birth name, Mason) existed

His special hiding spot was the large cupboard in the corner of the brothel owner’s office

(she was a lovely woman who did not even bat an eye when Blink’s mother showed up with him)

Blink’s mother was paranoid and constantly cautious—she could never live with herself if someone reported her, and the police were sent to take Blink away from her

So, she taught him morse code so they could communicate id there were any customers in hearing radius

Blink became so talented in the silent language that the two could have full conversation by the time he was 4 years old

MOVING FORWARD

Blink’s mother sometimes had aggressive customers, but nothing would ever compare to the last one

As it had turned out, Blink’s never-present father had left, running away to the Bronx and taking a new wife

The new woman became pregnant and the two were happy

Until she and the baby girl passed away in the middle of the birth due to bleeding complications

Newspapers tell the rest of the story: Blink’s father went ballistic when he heard the news

He grabbed a pistol he kept hidden in a couch-side cabinet and did not hesitate to shoot the assisting midwife

The shot alerted the head midwife and she appeared in the doorway, but before she could even get a sound out, she too, was shot in the head, and dies instantly

The man ran in the dead of night, having discovered from an old gambling buddy where his ex-wife and son had disappeared to

Blink’s mother did not have any customers, and as a result, they liked to sit in her room upstairs speaking in morse code when they heard a scuffle downstairs

There was a series of pops before a stomping on the stairs echoed throughout the house

Blink’s father appeared in the doorway, the pistol in his hand and multiple specks of blood splattered across his lips and face

Blink was told to run

He did so, but thought his mother had been behind him the entire time

He heard a deafening pop, and suddenly, he had been knocked over by the dead weight of his mother’s body

He screamed, a shrill cry as he burst into tears, struggling to push his mother off of his bruising form

His father approached him next but was tackled from behind by a gaggle of police constables

He was taken away and Blink was lifted away from his mother, kicking and crying out for his ‘mommy,’ he just wanted his mommy

He began to calm down, and so, the policemen holding his arms loosened their grips and eventually, let him walk freely

Blink did not hesitate to run; in fact, he jumped out the two-story window, and landed on the fire escape

He scaled the ladders as fast as he could through the many alleyways

All he could hear were the muffled shouts calling for him to come back

Everything else was just…silent, he could not pinpoint what was happening to him, but all sound came back in full force when he finally collapsed in an alley 3 miles from the brothel

Blink spent another few weeks traveling through the state and eventually made it into the busier part of New York City, Manhattan, to be more specific

He never got word if his father had been arrested or not, which made him paranoid that he hadn’t and was free to walk the streets and find him one day

Everything’s legal in Jersey, am I right?

Blink eventually stumbled his way into Newsie Square about midday, meaning no newsies were there to see him

He went to look at the World Distribution Center gates but before he could get past the Horace Greely Statue, he was tugged by his collar

Two older boys (about 9 and 10, and looking much too similar to not be related) stood in front of him, looking menacing but nervous at the same time, as if they were regretting what they were about to do

The two brothers / cousins—Blink did not know— roughed him up a bit and giving himself a black eye and a shallow cut on his lip and cheek

Before the one who had been called Morris, could kick his sternum again, a group of shadows appeared at the alley entrance

A young newsie, his face and arms strew from paint smears, had seen the fight, and ran off to find his leaders

He returned with a group of older boys who approached the trio

Morris and Oscar (as Morris had named him) stood slack as they looked at the newsies before they moved away from Blink

No one noticed the way Blink scooted backwards into a corner

Oscar and Morris left the alley in a rush, being chased down the street by a few younger newsies behind them

The boy with the paint on him was the first one to approach Blink, joining him in the corner by sitting crisscross in front of the timid boy

He introduced himself as Jack—near ten at the time

Jack asked Blink a few questions, but became baffled when all Blink would give as an answer was blinking his eyes

It was most likely that Blink was saying SOS or some other message relating to him desperately wanting some form of help, but Jack did not understand

One of the older boys got the hint that Blink would not answer any questions he could not shake his head to, and bent down next to Jack, asking Blink if he had a family, and after telling them no, Blink agreed to head back to the Newsboy’s Lodging House with them

Blink followed them out of the alley and was greeted by another small newsboy

He wore a grey flat cap and fiddled with a large cigar he pulled from his overshirts pocket

The boy introduced himself as Racetrack—a strange name, he later explained, he was christened with when he was found to be following an older boy to the Sheepshead Races every few days after selling

Race asked what Blink’s name was, not knowing he did not speak

When Blink only coded SOS once more, Race locked at him, astonished; he thought Blink’s way of speaking was amazing

The large group of boys tumbled their way down the cobblestone streets back to the lodging house, Blink on another boy’s—Spoons was his name—back when Race stopped in his tracks before grinning goofily and shaking his head, his curly blonde hair jumping with his glee

“I know! Wese should call ya’ Blink! Cause ya’ don’t talk, only blink ya’ eyes to ansah.”

Apparently, Race was a God, because all the boys started cheering and, once they got through the house up to the bunk room, Spoons plopped Blink down on a hard mattress and slapped an oversized cap on his head

Blink had no complaints with the name, instead smiling and welcoming it over his birth name any day

Most of the younger boys only called him simply ‘Blink,’ but most of the older boys coined the name, ‘Kid Blink’

Blink stayed mute for nearly a year, before he finally uttered his first words to the newsboys

He explained his birth name, but only his first, but all the boys already called him Blink so when someone randomly called him Mason, all the others were just like, “Who?”

Years go by, and he stays a newsie, becoming best friends with a boy name Mush—named for his simpleton-like comments at times—and they stayed selling partners for a long time before they became too old to sell together

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hippychick006 · 6 years ago

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5.03 - Free to be you and me

Or the one where Sam and Dean don’t share any screen time or even talk at all. Having said that, there’s some good scenes that switch between the brothers to show what each of them are doing. I also like the juxtaposition of how awkwardly Dean and Castiel work together in this episode, with how seamless Dean and Sam worked together in the previous episode. Jared has some great scenes with Adrianne Palicki, Mark Pellegrino and some guest actors that did a great job with playing hunters. Dean’s primarily with Castiel, though I did like the Raphael scene the first time I watched.

It’s an important episode in terms of the myth arc and Sam finding out he’s Lucifer’s vessel, but on re-watch, I’d fast forward through many of the scenes now.

The episode opens on Sam sleeping (or trying to) in a motel room. I’m issuing a shirtless!Sam alert for this one. He rolls over and sees Jess is beside him. This scene is so sweet. I love when they manage to bring Jess back in interesting ways. We see that Sam loved her very much. Sam says he misses her so much. She asks him what he’s doing running away. He says it’s different this time, “Last time I wanted to be normal. This time I know I’m a freak.”

Jess: Even at Stanford you knew. You knew there was something dark inside of you. Deep down, maybe, but you knew. Maybe that's what got me killed.

Sam denies it, but Jess says: “I was dead from the moment we said hello.” Jess tells him she’s trying to protect him from himself, he can’t run, the past will always catch up with him and the people closest to him will die. Sam says he won’t make that mistake again. Jess says things won’t ever change with Sam. Sam looks down and when he looks back up, Jess is gone.

After the title screen, we get taken back to one week earlier. I like the scenes we get that switch between what Sam and Dean are doing. Sam’s dropped off (in a different car than we saw him hitching away in last week). He’s arriving at the motel we saw him with Jess in the opener, which is in Garber, Oklahoma. When he opens the trunk to get his belongings, we switch to Dean, closing baby’s trunk and it’s clear from the way he’s suited and booted (not to mention the weapon he places under his coat), that Dean’s on a hunt alone. Fyi, Dean’s in Greely, Pennsylvania, which google maps tells me is about a 21 hour ish, drive from where Sam is.

Sam gets a job at a bar and Dean’s killing vampires with one liners: “Eat it, twilight.” Sam wipes his brow while he’s chopping lemons, Dean wipes his blood covered face after chopping the head off a vampire. Sam’s cleaning the bar, Dean’s cleaning baby.

We get the same effect as the last episode in that the soundtrack song – Lynyrd Skynyrd Simple Man – changes to be heard coming from the radio as Dean is driving. He looks over to the empty passenger’s seat as he drives.

We next see Dean in a motel room and this scene is one of the ones Hellers always pull out when everyone else says they don’t see Destiel. Castiel appears suddenly behind Dean. Dean jumps and thumps the sink. He’s clearly annoyed and glares, “Don’t do that!” He turns around and Castiel is standing far too close. Dean can’t look at Castiel, not because of attraction, but because he’s angry at having to tell Castiel the same thing over and over and it’s awkward that he’s too close: Dean: Cas, we've talked about this. Personal space? Castiel does move back, but he again comes into Dean’s space during the scene. I’m at a loss for how anyone sees these scenes as “romantic”. There’s clearly a power imbalance and it’s uncomfortable to watch Castiel continually disrespecting Dean’s wishes.

Long scene short, Castiel needs Dean’s help to trap and interrogate the angel that killed him (Raphael), to get God’s location.

Dean: You're serious about this… So, what, I'm Thelma and you're Louise and we're just going to hold hands and sail off this cliff together?

Dean asks why he should do this and receives the answer that no angel will dare harm him. Dean: “Oh, so I'm your bullet shield.” Castiel says Dean’s the only one who will help him. He even adds a please. Dean agrees, Castiel reaches up to zap Dean’s forehead, which Dean vetoes because “last time you zapped me someplace I didn’t poop for a week...we’re driving.”

Back to Sam – or Keith, since he’s using a different name – Lindsey the bartender flirts with him, asking if he plays darts. Sam says it depends what they are playing for. Lindsey says when she wins, Sam can buy her dinner and tell her his life story. Sam agrees. He steps up and I think he scores 100, but then gets distracted by the news, which is freak hail, lightning strikes and fire, all affecting a single local town. The older bartender (not Lindsey), turns the TV off and says: Damn. Is it me or does it seem like it's the end of the world?

Dean and Castiel have arrived in Maine. Dean asks why they’re here (not sure why he didn’t do that on the drive). Castiel wants to speak to a deputy sheriff that saw the archangel and his plan consists of: “We'll tell the officer that he witnessed an angel of the Lord, and the officer will tell us where the angel is.”

Unsurprisingly, Dean does not agree with that plan. He puts a fake ID in Castiel’s coat, then adjusts his tie to be properly done up (like you would do with a child), and tells him that when humans want something, they lie. Long story short, this is the scene where Cass holds his ID badge upside down and Dean says, “He's, uh, he's new.” This scene would be funnier if we’d got an explanation for when Castiel had a picture taken to get a fake ID done, otherwise the scene just doesn’t make sense as it stands.

They interview the deputy who witnessed the incident (which was a riot that turned into an explosion at a gas station). Castiel “helpfully” interjects on occasion with things like “It's angels and demons, probably… they're skirmishing all over the globe.”

Sheriff (to Castiel): Come again? (to Dean) What did he say?

I think what’s funny about this is that Castiel is sitting nearest the ear the sheriff can’t hear with (as it got damaged in the explosion), so there’s an element of, “am I really hearing this right?” at play here.

Dean and Castiel speak at the same time and it’s certainly not winsync. Dean: nothing, Castiel: demons. They repeat this. Then Dean covers with: Demons, you know, drink, adultery. We all have our demons, Walt.

Once they get past the awkwardness, they learn that one guy survived the explosion, not a scratch on him.

Dean: Let me guess, he just, uh, vanished into thin air?

Sheriff: Uh, no, Kolchak. He's down at Saint Pete's.

I had to look up Kolchak reference. This is from wiki: Kolchak: The Night Stalker is an American television series that aired on ABC during the 1974–1975 season. It featured a fictional Chicago wire service reporter—Carl Kolchak, played by Darren McGavin—who investigated mysterious crimes with unlikely causes, particularly those that law enforcement authorities would not follow up. These often involved the supernatural or science fiction, including fantastic creatures.

Wasn’t this what Kripke originally wanted to go with, a reporter investigating urban legends? Glad he went with the brothers.

Castiel helpfully repeats “Saint Pete's.” to Dean and not for the first time this episode, Dean really wishes his brother were here.

Down at the Saint Pete’s hospital, the survivor – local mechanic Donnie – is catatonic. Raphael has left his vessel in a terrible state. Dean: So, is this what I'm looking at if Michael jumps in my bones?

Castiel: No, not at all. Michael is much more powerful. It'll be far worse for you.

Oh great, that’s just…

Sam’s researching revelations (in latin), presumably because of the issues happening in the local town. He picks up his phone and scrolls past everyone to get to Dean. His brother isn’t on speed dial?! He has a lot of names, a couple I think we met. Interesting that Brady isn’t among them. He ignores my shouting, “Just call your brother, you idiot” and scrolls back up to Bobby’s number.

He tells Bobby about the omens he’s found. 'And upon his rising there shall be hail and fire mixed with blood.' He says they’ve already got the first two, so blood can’t be far behind. Bobby asks why Sam’s calling. Sam questions that Dean didn’t tell him (about Sam not hunting).

Bobby: He told me.

Sam: Yeah. So, I just thought you might want to find out who's in the area and put a man on this.

Bobby: Okay, let me see if I can think of the best hunter who might be in the immediate vicinity—oh, that'd be you.

Sam says he can’t and that he’s got to go. Bobby protests, but Sam hangs up the phone. Bobby looks sad.

Dean’s in an abandoned house, looking through his dad’s journal. Castiel flaps in and Dean asks where he’s been – presumably Castiel just did his usual and disappeared without explanation. Castiel responds: Jerusalem.

Dean (sarcastically): Oh, how was it?

Castiel (perfectly seriously): Arid.

I miss this Castiel that didn’t understand humour and took everything literally.

Castiel sets a jug on the table and Dean asks what it is. Castiel responds that it’s oil, very special and rare. Dean makes a joke about trapping Raphael with a nice vinaigrette. Then asks more seriously “Isn't that kinda like trapping a hurricane with a butterfly net?” Castiel says it’s harder. Dean asks if there’s a chance of surviving this. Castiel says Dean does (have a chance), implication is, Castiel doesn’t. Dean: So odds are you're a dead man tomorrow.

Castiel confirms this and Dean seems completely unperturbed (I miss these days), He asks Castiel what his plans are for his last night on earth.

Castiel: I just thought I'd sit here quietly

Dean disagrees and suggests booze and women. He quickly discovers through Castiel’s awkwardness that the angel hasn’t ever done the deed (why would he, he’s not human?). Dean: There are two things I know for certain. One, Bert and Ernie are gay. Two, you are not gonna die a virgin. Not on my watch. Let's go. (no hellers, he’s not offering his own services, he’s taking him out to get laid with hookers).

Back at the bar, Sam sees hunters he knows walk in and turns his back, walking away to try not to be recognised. No luck, the hunter calls after him and blows his alias by calling him Sam. Lindsey calls him on it and Sam says it’s his middle name, which she laughs at. Lindsey asks if the guys are his friends. One (Steve) answers: Hunting buddies. With his dad. Samuel here is quite the hunter himself.

Lindsey: Wow. You killed deer and things?

Tim: Yeah… and things.

Awkward! Sam gets them drinks and Tim apologises for busting him. I like seeing hunters from around their dad’s time, but sadly these guys will turn out to be assholes. They tell him about the demons and that Bobby told them Sam was off limits. Sam confirms it, but Tim says they really could use all hands. Sam say’s he’s sorry. Tim tries again, but Sam’s not having any of it. They leave for the hunt, telling Sam he’s buying them beers when they get back.

Lindsey: So, your parents were drunk when they named you and you shoot Bambi?

Sam says it’s a long story, but Lindsey’s had enough, she’s buying dinner and they are going to talk. Sam says he can’t, but Lindsey is insistent. Got to say, I’m not respecting the boundaries with either Castiel or Lindsey in this episode or actually Dean in terms of Cass getting drunk and having sex.

I absolutely have to say kudos to Misha for this next scene though. He looks absolutely terrified as he looks around the scantily clad women: “This is a den of iniquity. I should not be here!”

Dean: Dude, you full-on rebelled against heaven. Iniquity is one of the perks.

A hooker approaches and asks Castiel’s name. He doesn’t answer so Dean has to answer for him, which makes Castiel jump. Dean asks her name in turn, which turns out to be Chastity. Castiel downs half his beer then Chastity tugs Castiel up and leads him away. Dean stops him, giving Castiel money saying: “If she asks for a credit card, no. Now just stick to the basics, okay? Do not order off the menu. Go get her, tiger.” Castiel doesn’t move. Dean: “Don’t make me push you.”

I’m can’t help wondering if this is something Dean also did with a young Sam.

Another hooker walks by and Dean turns to follow her. He’s having a drink with her at the bar when they hear a scream. He goes to investigate, Castiel is standing in the hallway, more disheveled than normal. Chastity is pissed and shouts at Castiel and then also at Dean as she angrily stomps off, still grumbling.

Dean: The hell did you do?

Castiel: I don't know. I just looked her in the eyes and told her it wasn't her fault that her father Gene ran off. It was because he hated his job at the post office.

Dean rolls his eyes: Oh no man… This whole industry runs on absent fathers. It's, it's the natural order.

They have to exit quickly, and Dean laughs when they get back outside. Castiel asks what’s so funny. Dean: Oh, nothing. Whoo. It's been a long time since I've laughed that hard. It's been more than a long time. Years.

Back with Sam and it looks like Lindsey has finally worn Sam down as they are eating dinner. Lindsey’s still trying to get Sam’s story and asks again about the guys from earlier. Sam says they used to be in the same business together. When Lindsey presses for details, Sam tries to change the subject.

Lindsey: Witness protection, right? You're Mafia?

Sam (laughs): I'm not Mafia.

He sees Lindsey is switching off and relents a little as he tells her “I used to be in business with my brother. Truth is I was pretty good at the job. But...I made some mistakes, I did some stuff I'm not so proud of, and people got hurt. A lot of people.”

Me having just re-watched the entirety of the last few seasons. I’m going to need to see a list of the people that got hurt because of what Sam did. Stat!

Lindsey asks what Sam was hooked on, because she knows the look. Sam looks uncomfortable, I’m thinking drinking demon blood isn’t something he can easily fess up to at addiction anonymous groups. Lindsey pulls out a medallion and says she’s three years sober. Sam: “You work in a bar.”

Lindsey: So do you. Look, Keith. I don't know you and I'm the last person to be giving advice, but I do know that no one has ever done anything so bad that they can't be forgiven. That they can't change.

Castiel and Dean are at the hospital. Castiel is pouring the oil in a circle around Raphael’s vessel explaining that no angel can touch or pass through the flames (or they die). Dean asks how they’ll get Raphael there. Castiel says there’s something like a phone line between a vessel and his angel. You just have to know how to dial. He leans down to Donnie’s ear and chants in Enochian.

Dean: Just out of curiosity, what is the average customer wait time to speak to an archangel?

Castiel: Be ready. He lights a match and drops it on the oil, which bursts into a ring of flame.

Much later (that it’s turned from day to night. Dean and Castiel are driving back to the abandoned house. Dean: “Well that's a day I'll never get back.”

He enters the house and Castiel grabs him and tells him to wait. There’s bright white light and Raphael is there in Donnie’s body, impressive lightning display of his wings. Dean isn’t so impressed, he says all Raphael’s done is shot the lights in the room. Raphael responds: And the Eastern Seaboard. He threatens to take Dean to Michael. Dean says he’s going nowhere with Raphael. Raphael reminds him of the stomach cancer Zachariah gave him. Dean said it was hilarious.

Raphael: Well, he doesn't have anything close to my imagination.

Raphael’s arrogance is his undoing though as Dean says they knew he was coming. Castiel lights a zippo and and drops it. Raphael is now standing within a circle of fire and glares at Dean. Raphael glares at Dean who responds. “Don't look at me, it was his idea!”

Castiel asks Raphael where God is, Raphael says he’s dead.

Back at the bar and Sam’s cleaning up. Tim’s back and asks Sam if he’s got something to tell him. Sam says no and asks where the other two are. Tim answers that Steve’s dead and that the demons told them things about Sam. Sam refuses to talk but Reggie arrives and he’s holding Lindsey hostage with a knife.

Raphael and Castiel continue to have daddy abandonment issues. Though it’s nice as part of this discussion that Dean puts the blame for the apocalypse where it belongs:

Raphael: Careful. That's my Father you're talking about, boy.

Dean: Yeah, who would be so proud to know his sons started the frigging apocalypse.

Back at the bar, Sam falsely confesses to starting the apocalypse.

Me @Sam, you’re doing great sweetie. If only the others involved would take some responsibility for their own actions. Thankfully, before I can really get started on this topic, we quickly go back to Dean, Castiel asks Raphael that if God’s dead, then who brought him back. Raphael suggests Lucifer because he needs all the rebellious angels he can find. Castiel realises Raphael truly believes God is dead so doesn’t know anything. He goes to leave. Raphael warns him about just leaving him here, that he will find him.

Castiel: Maybe one day. But today, you're my little bitch.

Dean: What he said.

Best part of the episode is back with Sam as this is a great scene. Tim has a tube of demon blood and wants Sam to take it so he can go with them and kill the demons. Sam refuses but Tim says they’ll kill Lindsey if he doesn’t. Reggie has handcuffed Lindsey to the bar and advances on Sam. Reggie charges Sam who impressively tosses him onto a pool table and starts punching him, but Tim takes Sam down and together with Reggie, force the demon blood into Sam’s mouth. They force his mouth closed until he swallows. They retreat and Sam gets up, he spits the blood in Tim’s eye who can’t see to fight back now. Sam gets the upper hand and the kick he gives Reggie is worth watching the episode for. Sam hauls Tim up and looks as though he’s going to kill him with Reggie’s knife, but sees Lindsey watching and she’s terrified. He stops and tells them both to leave. They say they’ll be back, but I’m pretty sure we never see or hear from them again.

Dean gives Castiel a pep talk about missing fathers. “I mean there were times when I was looking for my dad when all logic said that he was dead, but I knew in my heart he was still alive. Who cares what some ninja turtle says, Cas, what do you believe?” Castiel believes God is alive and Dean says then go find him. Castiel asks how Dean is. Dean says he’s good.

Castiel: Even without your brother?

Dean: Especially without my brother. I mean, I spent so much time worrying about the son of a bitch. I mean, I've had more fun with you in the past twenty-four hours than I've had with Sam in years, and you're not that much fun. It's funny, you know, I've been so chained to my family, but now that I'm alone, hell, I'm happy.

Thankfully, when Dean glances to the passenger seat and it’s empty, we see from his face that all of that was just Dean’s usual bullshit where he puts his game face on to try to convince others of what he’s saying.

Back at the motel room, Sam is sleeping (in a t-shirt this time – wth Sam? Pick a sleeping attire and stick to it!). He hears Jess call his name and he wakes abruptly. Jess is back and Sam kisses her. He tells her he loves her then sits up and faces away from her on the bed. He tells her he misses her but she’s wrong about him. “People can change. There is reason for hope.” Jess tells him there isn’t and then morphs into Lucifer (Sam doesn’t see this). Sam asks how Jess can be so sure

Lucifer: Because you freed me.

Sam gets up and moves away.

Lucifer: You are a hard one to find, Sam. Harder than most humans. I don't suppose you'd tell me where you are?

That would be a nope as Sam asks what Lucifer wants. Lucifer wants to give Sam a gift for freeing him. Sam wants nothing from him. Lucifer tells Sam he’s sorry, but that Nick is just a Plan B. He can barely contain him. Sam asks what Lucifer is talking about. Lucifer: Why do you think you were in that chapel? You're the one, Sam. You're my vessel. My true vessel.

Sam looks horrified: “No. That'll never happen.”

Lucifer: I'm sorry, but it will. I will find you. And when I do, you will let me in. I'm sure of it.

Sam realises Lucifer needs his consent, which Lucifer confirms. Sam: I will kill myself before letting you in.

Lucifer: I'll just bring you back. He sighs and continues: Sam. My heart breaks for you. The weight on your shoulders, what you've done, what you still have to do. It is more than anyone could bear. If there was some other way...but there isn't. I will never lie to you. I will never trick you. But you will say yes to me.

Sam says he’s wrong, but Lucifer says he knows Sam better than Sam knows himself. Sam asks why him.

Good question, Sam, let’s listen carefully to the answer:

Lucifer: Because it had to be you, Sam. It always had to be you.

Hold up there sparky, “it always had to be you” Sam, until the writers wanted to bring Lucifer back and decided that anyone can be Lucifer’s vessel, including another angel, so your entire storyline this season is now a complete waste of time, which can be added on to last season being a waste of time since all that was required to free Lucifer is a witch and a spell. Having said that, scenes like this one over the years are why they keep bringing him back. It’s a very good scene between Jared and Mark.

Poor Sammy, the hits just keep coming for him. Up next, the End, or the one where Jensen works his ass off, doing double time and Jared comes in and steals the episode. (paraphrasing Jensen’s words).

#supernatural #season 5 #rewatch #5.03 #free to be you and me #episode recap

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petergiuliano · 7 years ago

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The Story of 5282, The Secret Specialty Coffee Code.

Google the number ‘5282’ and the word ‘coffee’ and look at the results: what pops up is a list of seemingly random specialty coffee companies. Is this a secret numerical code? A cryptic, occult message? A strange, numerological coincidence?

There is a reason, and a story behind the reason, and story begins at the dawn of the 17th Century. In 1602, the Dutch government, seeking to compete with the English East Indies Company who had a grip on the lucrative spice trade with the far East, established the Verenigde Oostindische Compagnie, literally the ‘United East India Company’, known outside Holland as the ‘Dutch East India Company’. Under its charter, the company had the right to, among other things, build forts, maintain armies, and enter into treaties with Asian leaders on behalf of the Dutch government, all in the name of building a powerful spice trading business. The company went to work quickly, building and capturing ships and establishing trading bases in Indonesia, seeking to control the super high-value spice trade.

The Dutch East India Company or ‘VOC’ was ruthlessly successful. A series of battles with the English peaked in 1623 with the ‘Amboina Massacre’, when 20 tradespeople, including 10 English sailors, were captured, tortured and beheaded by the VOC on Maluku, one of the famous ‘spice islands’ I wrote about recently. Anyway, the Dutch basically dominated the spice trade throughout the 1600s. At the end of the century, however, trouble was on the horizon. Increased competition from other trading powers and an unstable market for spices left the VOC looking for alternatives to the spice trade. Coffee seedlings stolen from Yemen in 1699 were planted near the Dutch base on the island of Java and survived; creating a possible alternative to spices as a cash crop for the VOC. In 1711 the first coffee exports from Java landed in Europe, and the Dutch East India Company began its transformation into the biggest coffee production and distribution entity in the world. Alas, the Dutch company was as ruthless at coffee farming as it had been at dominating the spice routes. Using forced labor from local Indonesian farmers under the policy of cultuurstelsel, now known as ‘enforcement planting’, the VOC grew and transported huge amounts of coffee to Europe and elsewhere, and before long, coffee volumes from Java exceeded those from the largest coffee exporter of the time, the port of Al-Mokha in Yemen. By the 19th century, ‘Java’ coffee was ubiquitous, and ‘Mocha-Java’- a blend of coffee from Java and Yemen- was famous. Both terms- Mocha and Java- became synonyms for coffee itself. Java was coffee and coffee was Java. That is, until 1876, when disaster struck: the deadly Coffee Leaf Rust disease hit the island, and the crop was decimated. Though coffee is still grown on the island today, Java coffee never fully recovered.

The very next year of 1877, thousands of miles away, Tivadar Puskás, a colorful, brilliant Hungarian who had already had careers as a travel agent and a gold miner, pitched an idea for a ‘telegraph exchange’ to Thomas Edison. The exchange would enable switching between multiple lines, allowing numerous connections to be made among telegraph subscribers in a community. The idea found use, but not in the telegraph: it was perfect for application in Alexander Graham Bell’s new ‘telephone’ system. The first experimental telephone exchange was built in Boston by the Bell company in 1877, and the next year, a commercial exchange was built in nearby Lowell, Massachusetts. These early telephone exchanges were usually named for the town in which they operated; to get connected to a friend, you would tell an operator the name of the exchange where your friend’s phone was connected, then the name of your friend. The operator of your exchange would connect to the other exchange, and the operator of that exchange would connect you to your friend.

Just a year later, in 1879, an epidemic of measles broke out in Lowell. Local doctor Moses Greely Parker, apparently kind of a catastrophic thinker, feared that a bad measles outbreak might wipe out the operators at the popular Lowell telephone exchange, and it would be difficult for replacement operators to be trained on all the names they would need to know to make the connections. He suggested the use of numbers instead of names, and the idea of the ‘telephone number’ was born. In this system, the number of a telephone subscriber- say 252- would always be prefaced by the exchange name. So, ‘Lowell 252’ would become the format for the phone number. For nearly 100 years, phone numbers would follow the ‘exchange-number’ format. Exchange names proliferated beyond place names, as more and more exchanges were built. When making a call, you’d just pick up a phone and tell the operator the exchange and number. (Hence the title of the popular big-band tune ‘Pennsylvania 6-5000’). This is why, when the first dial phones were introduced- like the iconic Western Electric 50AL ‘candlestick’- they had little letters above the numbers: you could dial the first two letters of the exchange- ‘LO’ (aka ‘56’) for LOwell, then the number. Long after the advent of direct dial, people knew their numbers in the exchange-number format: my grandparents’ number in the 1950s was PLeasant 2-2562.

By the 1960s, people stopped using exchange names in phone numbers. Everyone was dialing numbers by this time, and it suddenly seemed easier to skip the ‘exchange’ prefix and just remember the phone number in all-number format. Letters on telephone dials and pads began to seem like a quaint anachronism. (However, no progress goes unchallenged. In 1963 an organization called the Anti Digit Dialing League was formed to combat the pernicious habit of all-digit dialing. They had thousands of members.) In 1967, the toll-free number was introduced, and with it came a new custom: the ‘vanity number’, a custom phone number, requested by the telephone subscriber. Often, vanity numbers tried to spell a word related to a business, using those letters on the dial put there to identify the now-obsolete telephone exchange name. Those old letters had found a new use! ‘Phonewords’ became a craze in the 1980s and 1990s, and many businesses began requesting vanity numbers with built-in phonewords.

The ‘80s and ‘90s were also a boom time for specialty coffee: lots of specialty coffee companies were formed during that time. And, since OBVIOUSLY any brand new specialty coffee company needed to have a cool phoneword-based vanity number, folks were on the lookout for coffee-related four letter words (since phone numbers always end in four digits). The search was on. “Coffee” had too many letters. “Brew” could be beer. What about Java, that old nickname for coffee? ‘JAVA’, aka ‘5282’, was perfect: four letters, a synonym for coffee, kind of exotic, rakish and affable in a jokey-sort-of-serious way. Dozens of specialty coffee companies formed in the 80s and 90s have 5282 in their phone number: Canada’s Colony Coffee and Tea, Olympia’s Batdorf and Bronson, Goleta, California’s Carribean Coffee Company, and my alma mater Counter Culture Coffee in North Carolina are among them. The practice continues to this very day, as companies gleefully request 5282 numbers of their very own. However, the fashion of phonewords has declined somewhat, and companies don’t as often write their number as 1-800-555-JAVA now, preferring the slightly more dignified 1-800-555-5282, and people eventually forget the number-word connection. Do they know that the number has in its history the 17th century spice trade, the rapacious Dutch East India Company, stolen coffee seedlings, enforcement planting, a Hungarian inventor, a measles outbreak, and a paranoid-yet-clever doctor from New England? Does anyone remember that ‘Java’ is an island, and that people used to actually talk to an operator when they needed to make a phone call? Regardless, here is what I will promise you: if you care about coffee, you’ll be seeing the numbers ‘5282’ EVERYWHERE now.

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ecotone99 · 6 years ago

Text

[RF] [Pt.1] When the Tingle Becomes a Chill

Dan Kovalchik and his mistress, Kelly, stroll through The Point, the sky dimly illuminated with light pollution from the city below. They are departing the water’s edge, next to a large fountain, which is shut off with the winter weather in mind. Having just had dinner downtown, they decided to take a detour and gaze upon the confluence of the three rivers which explain for some of the fragmented geography of Pittsburgh. The Monongahela, Allegheny, and Ohio rivers meet at this point, marked by a state park directly across the Allegheny from Heinz Field. They walked slowly, holding hands and talking lightly, both quietly excited to return to their hotel room.

Dan is married. His wife, Tina, is home with their son, Evan. Tina knows where he is and what he is doing but at this point in their marriage, it matters very little. They sleep in separate beds, and other than sometimes crossing paths in the mornings before he leaves for work at his investment firm, or the quiet, tense dinners they share several nights a week alongside Evan, or perhaps occasionally on the weekends when they both happen to be home, they live almost completely separate lives. Dan prefers it this way, and he is willing to believe that Tina does too. After all, if it was that big of an issue, why was she still there? Waiting for him at home, cooking his dinners, doing everything possible to appear discontent but passive.

Ah, he remembered, thinking this over as they walked. The money. Dan’s father had been a banker. He was born into a trade which happened to make him a hell of a good living, just like his father before him. Tina, on the other hand, was the daughter of a Somerset County coal miner, and had came from nothing. Born Tina Greely, she had been married once before, to a boy she went to high school with named Craig Randolph. In the few short years they were married, they had no children but otherwise lived what was outwardly God’s own Americana fantasy. Craig worked long hours running equipment at a strip mine, Tina waited tables for some extra money. Then, one night when Tina was almost freshly twenty one, Craig had been killed following a catastrophic brake failure on his truck while returning from work. Having lost contact with her parents over their disapproval of her marriage to Craig, she took what money she had and moved to the city. She began tending bar, making reasonable money and doing alright when at age twenty three she met Dan. At the time, Dan was twenty seven. For him, at the time at least, it felt like love at first sight. Tina still had her youthful looks then, and after a few drinks he asked for her phone number.

They dated for two years before he asked her to marry him. Another two years later, Evan came into the world. They had both wanted to have a child, and it seemed like the right thing to do. Upon getting pregnant, Tina left her job and had since fallen into the role of homemaker, something she generally excelled at. Dan went to work, made good money, kept the house heated, cooled, filled with food and aplomb with running water and electricity. Tina stayed home and made sure that her boys were fed, the house was clean, and all the little errands that Dan had long since decided were beneath him were taken care of. This was the nature of their relationship, and this is why he knew she could do nothing to change it. She needed him, and Evan needed him. In his eyes, his wife’s main duty overall was to keep him satisfied, and where she could not give him satisfaction, other women would take her place, and she would have to accept it, god dammit.

He thought about satisfaction as his hand slid down the back of Kelly’s dress. She was twenty five, much younger than Dan. She was a receptionist in his office, and though he had been unfaithful in the past, it had never felt this good or lasted this long. They saw each other mostly on weekends, but on this occasion he couldn’t help himself and decided to spend Tuesday night in the city to see her. He no longer felt the need to lie to Tina or make up excuses, he instead opted on just telling her he wouldn’t be home for dinner. When he told her, her trite response told him that she knew what was going on, but again there was no protest. She had not told him she loved him when she hung up. As his hand meets the bottom curvature of her ass, Kelly looks up at him, grinning before biting her lip. He begins to lean in for a kiss, but he hears the sound of approaching footsteps and he turns to look. A man is walking behind him. He is dressed in all black, with a sweatshirt on and his hood up, head pointed towards the ground. He is walking quickly in their direction, but Dan pays him no mind and turns his head back around, focusing again on his hand that is firmly gripping Kelly’s ass. He thinks about all the mischief they will get into the moment the door swings closed behind them at their hotel room.

This sweet train of thought is interrupted by a gunshot that he does not hear, coming from the snub nose .357 in the hand of the hooded man, who has shortened the distance between them to about five feet. He holds the pistol in his right hand, which is now coated in a leather glove, and puts a bullet right behind Dan’s left ear. It exits through his cheek, leaving a large hole that immediately spews blood. Dan immediately falls to the ground face first, and begins spasming and thrashing wildly on the concrete. Kelly looks down at him, aghast, arms raised and mouth open in a scream which has not yet found its voice. Before she can react any further, the man stands over Dan, points the pistol at his head, which is laid on his left cheek as it begins to pool blood on the concrete, and fires a second round into his temple. Dan stops writhing as the pool grows, slowly but surely. Kelly finally screams hysterically before the man turns the gun in her direction, causing her to run. Content with her effort to flee the scene, he drops the unregistered and serial number-free revolver, before he crouches down next to the still-bleeding corpse of the former Dan Kovalchik. He hastily searches Dan’s pockets, coming up with a wallet and a caseless iPhone. He doesn’t bother to see how much is in the wallet, but he quickly removes Dan’s Rolex before he gets back up and begins to head in the opposite direction. Walking along the riverside, he tosses Dan’s phone in the omnipotent blackness of the Monongahela. Walking another ten or so yards, he does the same with the wallet before doing the same with the watch. Soon enough, he reaches the overpass which his car is parked under. He gets in and begins his journey across town before the engine warms up.

———

Steve Ryan waits nervously in the furthest corner booth of a seedy diner in Greenfield. He sips his coffee purely out of oral desperation rather than a desire for energy. He worries that if he finishes this second cup he may be liable to vibrate out of the seat. In the interior pocket of his jacket, there is an envelope containing $10,000 cash. However, this is only a minor part of what is making him nervous. The money is payment for a contract on a man’s life. This ten grand is to be added to the five grand paid up front to a man that Steve knows only as Buck. Buck has been hired by Steve and his lover, Tina, to kill her husband, so they can cash in on his life insurance. Any moment now, Buck should come through the door. Either that or he had been caught and was currently telling tales to whoever would listen inside of central booking. He sipped his coffee again and tried to ignore these thoughts.

He had met Tina while they were grocery shopping, and he felt an immediate connection. Eventually they began to run into each other more and more, and it became apparent that these were no longer accidental encounters. He got her phone number and on innocent enough terms, they met for coffee. This began a passionate affair, one that he had felt guilty about at first, but as he saw deeper inside the fallacy that was Dan and Tina’s marriage, his conscience quieted on the issue. Their affair continued and went on for months, and they began mutually fantasizing about the life they could share together. Steve made a respectable living as a residential carpenter, building houses for a small local contractor. As time went on, the fantasy began to grow legs, and one night Tina brought up her idea. They could have Dan killed. He had a half a million dollar insurance policy with his company, this plus the other assets Tina would inherit would be more than enough for them to start over wherever and however they wanted. At first, of course, he was apprehensive. There was that old feeling of guilt he had when they first began sleeping together. Then, one night she came to see him, crying, with a fresh bruise on her face. She told him that Dan had hit her after he confronted her about his infidelity. That was enough for him. Tina said she knew someone who could do it, and Steve agreed to front the money. Fifteen grand seemed reasonable, if it could be done clean.

The glass front door swung open and the bells hung on the inside jingled to announce the presence of Buck as he walked in the door. He was a big man, hair slicked back with gel and a full, long beard. He looked around and spotted Steve in the rear corner, who flagged him down with a slight wave. He walked to the back and sat across from him. At first he said nothing. Steve held his breath and saw the tattoo on Buck’s neck that read “YOU SUFFER” as Buck looked to his left, annoyed.

“It’s done,” Buck said quietly.

“Are you sure?” Steve replied, exhaling.

Buck glared at him and began to say something the lone waitress manning the establishment appeared next to their booth and asked Buck if he wanted anything.

“Check’s fine,” he replied sternly. She walked away, looking displeased. Buck watched her walk away before he leaned in to a menacing distance from Steve.

“I wouldn’t be here if there was any doubt. Give me my fucking money.”

Steve’s eyes widened and his hand shook as he removed the envelope from his jacket, after looking around the room like a panicked animal to be sure nobody was watching. He handed it from under the table to Buck, who was looking less angry and had settled on being annoyed instead. Buck didn’t count it, but he took a quick peek inside for some mild assurance that he wasn’t about to commit a second murder tonight. He put it in his own jacket. A moment later, the waitress returned and handed Steve his check. No longer wanting to hang around, Steve drained the rest of his coffee and walked the check to the register. He finished paying just as Buck walked out the door behind him. He came out shortly after and saw Buck climb into his car, a piece of shit black Dodge Stratus. He fired it up an drove off as Steve watched, still nervous for some reason. He watched Buck travel down the street and turn away, thinking about what he had gotten himself into.

A man was dead. A man he did not like, but a man nonetheless. He thought about Dan, probably zipped up in a bag and on a ride to the coroner’s office. He thought about Tina, probably having just received the call informing her that her dear husband and the beloved father of her only child, Daniel Allen Kovalchik, had been shot dead in an apparent robbery in downtown Pittsburgh. And we have a witness and a description, ma’am, but unfortunately I have to inform you that the witness is a hot young piece of twenty something ass that your husband was fucking! Steve snapped out of all these ugly thoughts and got into his truck. He let it warm up a moment before he pulled out onto the street, heading towards home.

———

Tina sat on the couch, glass of wine in hand, staring across the room at the home phone in the kitchen. She placed herself strategically in this spot in the living room so she would have that few extra seconds before she reached the phone once it rang. It was seldom contacted by anyone other than telemarketers, but if everything went according to plan it would be ringing fairly soon, with what would in most cases constitute as bad news. She had made Steve promise her that he wouldn’t call her that night under any circumstances. So if Dan was indeed dead, and she had a feeling he was, she would find out from the authorities.

She had put Evan to bed at 9:00, and it was approaching 12:30. In the mean time she had drank a few glasses of wine and broken into her emergency cigarette ration from inside the freezer. She kept a pack of Marlboro Menthols in there for times when she found herself more stressed than usual, and she had smoked three of them since Evan had gone to bed. She didn’t like him seeing her smoke, so when she did it was with great care to avoid his impressionable gaze. She had mostly quit, besides these brief relapses of course, but seeing her son grow up to smoke would break her heart.

She told herself she was doing this for Evan. On top of doing an uninspiring job as a husband, he wasn’t a contender for father of the year. As it turns out, you don’t have a lot of time to raise your son if you’re always working or cheating on your wife. If she had the money he had, she could give him a great life. Not that life was bad for him now, but it could be better without Dan in the picture. But the reality was, she was doing it primarily for herself. She hated Dan. She thought long, hard, and often about killing him herself. It had almost happened a few times, as she lay awake in bed listening to him come home late and go to bed in the next room. She thought about the gun she kept in her walk in closet, which he didn’t know about it, and how she could stop him any time she wanted if she ever worked up the nerve. Luckily for her, she didn’t have to. She called Buck.

Buck was an old friend from her hometown. He had been a less than savory denizen of their town, but she always had a soft spot for him. But, she had heard in passing back then that Buck had done a murder for hire for another local. A man in Somerset had raped a fourteen year old girl and walked away without a conviction over a technicality. Buck was paid by the girls father to get rid of him. The body was never found. Tina trusted Buck, for whatever reason, and one day, after finally convincing Steve to go with it, she reached out to him. He was surprised to hear from her. They met for dinner and caught up. The conversation veered towards the topic of murdering Tina’s husband, and Buck responded positively. He named his price, and she agreed. Over the next few days they hashed out details via several face to face meetings while Evan was in school. He would wait for a night he was far from home, in the city maybe, and out in public. When Dan had called to deliver one of his varied bullshit excuses that afternoon, she knew this was the night. She called Buck from a pay phone and gave him the address of Dan’s office. From there he would tail him until the moment was right.

The phone rang. It spooked her so bad she almost spilled the rest of her wine. She shot up out of the chair but slowed herself crossing the kitchen to the phone’s place of residence on the opposite wall. She waited for what seemed like a fair amount of time before she picked up.

She inhaled sharply. She had practiced this. The voice, the inflection, the growing sense of worry in her voice as the call went on toward the impending bad news.

“Hello?” She asked, clenching her empty fist. Her knuckles turned white but she kept it clenched as hard as she could.

“Hello, is this Mrs. Tina Kovalchik?”

“Yes, speaking.” She worried that sounded too rehearsed, too mechanical but she proceeded.

“Hello, ma’am. I’m Gregory Dillon, I’m with the coroners office here in Pittsburgh. Look, there’s no easy way to say this, but we think we found your husband, ma’am. You are Dan Allen Kovalchik’s wife, correct?”

She paused. I was, she thought.

“Yes,” she said with a slight crack in her voice.

“Well we believe we have him here but we need you to come make a positive ID. Are you available to come down now?”

She let the waterworks go now. She began to wail. She held the phone to her chest. As the tears flowed from her eyes, authentic emotions came with them. She thought about how it was over, Dan was dead, he was gone now. The pain he caused her was over. She cried at the thought of her newfound freedom from him. She thought about this and her new life with Evan and Steve, Steve who may raise Evan better than Dan could.

“…. ma’am? Look, I’m sorry… I know this is hard, but we need you to come in. Can you do that now? Or is there someone else we can call if you’re unavailable?” the voice of Dillon asked. She gathered herself.

“No, no. I can come in. I’ll be there as soon as I can,” she said before hanging up, without saying goodbye. Perhaps a goodbye was too casual at a time like this. She took off her bath robe which she’d be sitting in and replaced it with her coat. As she zipped up her coat, she thought about Evan. Should she tell him now? She decided against it. Not worth getting him out of bed. She phoned her friend Dawn down the street, informing her of the situation and asking her to watch over Evan for a little while. Through teary eyed, choked patterns of speech Dawn agreed to come over and make sure Evan was safe and none the wiser for the time being. She checked the pocket of her coat for her keys and headed to the door when she caught a glimpse of herself in a mirror before she reached the threshold. She examined herself. Some of her youth still remained even at thirty five, but much of it was replaced by the troubling early stages of crow’s feet and smile lines. She had perennial bags under her crystalline blue eyes from the stress of motherhood amidst a failing marriage, and surely this situation wouldn’t make her look any younger. Some days in the right light, she could spot the beginning of graying in some strands of her dark, wavy hair. This all worried her, but now was not the time to worry about such things as age and former beauty. Once again she checked for her keys before opening the door and walking into the cold, lonesome driveway to warm up her Jeep before embarking on this late journey into Pittsburgh.

———

The next day was long and terribly out of the ordinary for Tina. She got home early that morning after going and identifying her late husband’s corpse on an examining table in the Pittsburgh City Morgue. She displayed a face shock and despair over Dan’s death, and the coroner seemed to buy it. The shock was fairly genuine, though. Perhaps she hadn’t considered this detail in its entirety. She only saw him for a moment before she looked away but it was an image that would remain with her forever. His face, which had still been handsome despite his age and her slow burning hatred of him, now had a half dollar size hole in his cheek that had exposed part of his eyeball. The side of his head was worse. She didn’t look close enough to see his brain from inside of the grotesque crater that now occupied the side of Dan’s head, but she saw the small chunks of pink and gray matter that clung to what remained of his salt and pepper hair and she finally turned her head and confirmed that this was the corpse of her husband. She felt a slight relief, though from the shock. It made it feel more real to her, and she figured it did for the coroner as well.

Tina got home as the sun rose and came in to find Dawn sleeping on her couch, used tissues scattered on the floor and the coffee table before her. Dawn was nice but she had always been very dramatic, and Tina nearly had to stifle a laugh at the thought of her fucking neighbor mourning Dan more than she was. She even knew, to a certain and very limited degree, about Dan’s shortcomings as a husband and father, and had suggested very bluntly to Tina that she leave Dan. Some times before she fantasized about a world where she could just leave Dan. But he would never let it happen. On top of him being in nearly complete control of her finances, his pride was too great. She reminded herself that this was the only way, and this was how life was to be from now on, before she woke Dawn from her slumber. Dawn woke up and they talked for a few minutes, Dawn repeatedly expressing her sympathies while quietly sobbing on the couch. Once the tears stopped for a brief intermission Tina managed to usher her out, and she took a moment to prepare for the hardest part of all of this.

Evan loved his father, and Dan had loved him too, though he did a poor job of showing it. Every day Evan eagerly awaited the arrival of his father from work, and he would always pout when he would have to work late, et cetera. He was still asleep, blissfully unaware of the loss he had suffered, and she considered letting him wake up on his own, but she decided that it had been put off long enough. She went into his room upstairs and peered inside. He was asleep with his head under the covers, shielding his face from the sun peering in through the blinds. She cleared her throat and entered the room and once again she was leaking bona fide, sorrowful tears at the thought of what she had to tell her son. The guilt returned finally, but she couldn't stop herself from sitting down on the edge of the bed and rubbing what appeared to be his arm to gently wake him. He stirred under the covers for a moment before he poked his head out. It was a little early for him to be up for school and he looked confused. She swallowed hard.

———

Steve was at work and attempting to go about his day as usual. He still had not spoken to Tina and he was nervous again. It was late morning and even though he dipped instead of smoking cigarettes he joined the other guys on the site for a smoke break behind someone’s truck. They were all talking about the buildup to playoff football but his mind was elsewhere. Still in that diner in Greenfield, sitting across from some madman for hire that had just killed a man. He heard voices talking around him and he looked up at the group of fellow nicotine fiends surrounding him.

“… yeah, fuckin’ guy got shot twice in the head right downtown at the point. Said it was a robbery. They didn’t get the guy."

Steve froze. Once again he stood there, eyes wide, feeling rather far in over his head. He recognized this was good news, but hearing about it took him way off guard. It took him a moment to gather himself but eventually he chimed in on the subject, agreeing that it was a heinous crime, and the city was most certainly not what it used to be.

At lunch, he called her, finally. She answered quickly from her cell phone, talking quietly. He figured Evan must be near. He wondered how he was taking the news. This would surely be hardest on him. They talked briefly and for what seemed like no particular reason. They did not mention what happened, they just seemed mutually reassured by each others presences on the other end of their respective lives. Steve finally started to feel the stress beginning to lift from his shoulders. But he wondered, would he always worry? Would there ever be a time this was totally behind him? Perhaps it was too early to tell. As he marks a stud to cut, he breaks his pencil and cusses at the splintered piece of wood and graphite that remained in his hand. As he went and grabbed a replacement from his truck, he wondered how long it would take for this all to feel normal. He worried that it may never feel that way, then he worried it may feel that way far too soon.

———

That afternoon, Tina once again finds herself clad in her bath robe with a glass of wine in hand. Evan is finally achieving sleep upstairs. He has taken the news miserably. He has sobbed all day on and off and she fears it is only really beginning to set in on him that his father is truly gone. Tina has cried some too, but only over the thought of what this did to Evan. Seeing him like this was almost enough for her to feel a slight sting of regret, and she has to remind herself continually that this was still the right thing to do. It was around three, and the increasingly low sun of the late autumn day began to cast shadows that ran across the living room and create strange, non geometric shapes through the leaves on the maple tree in the yard. She stares at them for a while before she gets another glass of wine, most of which she finishes still standing at the counter.

Returning to her position on the couch, she props her head up on the arm and stares at the ceiling, watching the fan attached to the high living room ceiling as it rotated endlessly above her. She watches this and envisions her life beyond this point. Once the insurance money comes in, she and Evan and Steve will move elsewhere. Steve is skilled and he can find work, plus with the sizable amount of capital she is about to inherit they can buy a nice home, perhaps something near the ocean like she had always dreamed of. Growing up in the often bleak surroundings of Western PA coal country, dreaming of the ocean seemed to be the only reasonable means of brief escapism from the rust belt reality that surrounded her.

Soon she was drifting off into a light sleep, imagining her and Evan on a beach, smiling, playing in the sand. They laugh and chase each other among the dunes for hours, eating lunch under an umbrella during brief periods of rests between frolicking in the sand and splashing around in the gentle Atlantic surf. She didn’t know where it was but it was distinctly Atlantic, with cool, greenish water washing ashore near them with the tide. Perhaps the Carolinas? She didn’t know. But they were happy, oh so happy, maybe as happy as they had ever been. As the sun began to descend into the western sky behind them, they walked up a narrow path up through the dunes to a large, two story house that sat proudly overlooking the ocean with a widow’s walk on top to match. She sees herself atop the walk, glancing out over the darkening sea as the sun sets red to her rear. The waves crash upon the shore and she smiles down at Evan who stands at her hip and smiles back up at her, and she knows she has done the right thing. The feeling of her sleeve being tugged jolts her awake. She sits up quickly to find little Evan standing next to the couch, having just woken up. He still has a sullen look about him but he has stopped crying, at least. He says nothing, but she welcomes him onto the couch and he hugs her as he buries his face in her side. She pats him on the back as a tear streams down her face.

“I know this is hard, Evvie. And it may be unfair. But we will get through this, just you and me. We don’t need anybody else, baby. If you stick with me, I will make sure that everything is taken care of. I love you so much, baby, and I just want you to know that. Everything I do is for you, and nothing will ever change that.”

She heard him sniffle and he continued to embrace her. They sat like this for a while, as she played with his hair and watched the sun go down through the window facing the maple tree out back. In the comforting silence of this moment, her thoughts returned to her and her son, happy on a beach somewhere. She thought about Steve. She loves him, as far as she can tell. and he is welcome to join her in this illustrious fantasy of middle class bliss. She will see him in person soon, and they’ll begin to plan their escape. Holding her son close to her body, thinking of the possibilities, she finally feels a sense of promise about the near future. Careful not to let Evan see, she smiles weakly.

———

Within the next week, Dan is buried. He has a closed casket service at a nice funeral parlor. The day of the funeral is, frankly, exhausting for Tina. All day she is comforted by her friends and loved ones, and those of Dan’s, and she must continue her crocodile tears for the whole of the event. Though Dan’s parents are several years dead, the rest of his immediate family shows up in force. His two brothers bring their families. Cousins come from up in Erie to pay their respects. She sees them as extensions of Dan’s father, who always looked down on her family for their lower middle class and heavily rural roots. She senses a contempt among them, which has always quietly angered her and today is no different. Though keeping up her facade is tiring, she has grown to appreciate the constant sympathy being handed down by those around. If nothing else, it means she is not under suspicion, at least by those around her. Even Dan’s brothers shake her hand gingerly and let her know that if there is anything they, or their wives, can do to assist her in this trying time. On the surface, she is appreciative and humble on top of her apparent sadness.

In the furthermost reaches of what may be called her reptilian brain, though, Tina feels victorious. Everything is going to plan. She refuses to acknowledge these thoughts, but they prevail, and every time one of her neighbors or Dan’s family members attempts to comfort her, as she dabs her eyes with a balled up tissue on the exterior, she laughs at them from within. Things are in motion with the life insurance payoff. At night, after Evan is asleep, she searches the internet for homes on the coast. Mostly the Carolinas, though Maryland, in spite of its high taxes, begins to interest her as well. Dan is buried that afternoon in a large Hillside cemetery overlooking part of the city. Tina hears one of Dan’s cousins remark that there is no space for her in the ground next to him, and she pretends she is none the wiser.

The following year is full of great change for all involved. After several months, Dan and Tina begin to date more publicly, or at least with Evan now being aware that they see each other. Tina does little to explain this to him and he remains stoic on the topic, though Tina assumes he is at least confused by the concept, if not outright upset by it. They begin to look at homes together, and eventually decide on a small, waterfront home on the Eastern Shore of Maryland. Not exactly the coast, but she hears the Chesapeake is beautiful. Steve looks forward to scouring the bay for rockfish and Evan expresses mild interest in being close to the beach, which he has never seen before. Steve accepts a position as a foreman for another residential construction contractor in the area. They will work primarily building vacation homes for folks looking to take weekend getaways to avoid the hustle of the DC/ Baltimore metro, and he will make considerably more money than he did before. Tina looks forward to continuing her station as a homemaker, and reading more often from the comfort of a wooden adirondack chair on their own private slice of beach.

The new family, if you could call it that, drops everything and moves about eight months after Dan’s death. Neighbors and relatives whisper rumors about Tina having an affair before his passing, she figured as much, but she leaves all this behind as they embark eastbound and down across the turnpike. They travel in a rather unimpressive convoy of her Jeep in the lead, loaded with luggage, while Steve follows behind in his pickup with a u-haul box trailer in tow. Evan sits proudly in the front, after several minutes of campaigning to join Steve on the trip instead of his mother. Steve is happy to oblige, and does his best to keep him entertained on the long trip with jokes he reminds him not to say around Tina.

They make their new home in the summer. Within weeks they are unpacked and settled in. Steve began work, and enjoyed the relative ease of being a foreman. The paperwork is plentiful, but it beats hanging drywall while age forty looms around the corner. Evan enjoyed a few more weeks of summer vacation before starting school at the end of August. He attends a private Christian school, an idea which had initially brought on the ire of Tina, but after seeing the state of public schooling in the area she had changed her mind. Time went on, as it so often does, and they all became further and further accustomed to the new lives they were leading, but with the passing time inevitably comes change. Change could be a good thing, but when you have everything you ever wanted, it tends to be the opposite.

———

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