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#maybe in a past lifetime you and i were neighbors and sat on our lawns together and ate flowers? and dared each other to eat grasshoppers?
shreksstepfather · 2 years
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OH WHY I THINK YOUD EAT A FLOWER NOT WHICH FLOWER YOUD EAT I CANT READ
Idk it’s something about your vibe. You feel like me, and I eat plants with reckless abandon, so you would probs eat one, like it, eat all of that one, then maybe a couple others since you’re already snacking.
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Very very true!! I think you got my personality pinned down tbh. I used to eat flowers, mushrooms, bugs, and pinecones when I was a kid, so why not now?
I'm also a vegetarian so you got that going for you too!
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concussed-to-pieces · 7 years
Text
Downright Neighborly; Part Two
Fandom: WWE/TNA
Pairing: Jeff Hardy/Female Reader
Rating: Holy shit M.
AN: Thirst Party Saturday Crew, welcome aboard our jaunty ship once again! Tagging our usual suspects, the Prince Of Badasses @toxiicpop, Strowman's Maestro @hardcorewwetrash and the All-Seeing Polaris @oraclegazes!
(Also I apologize, but due to my laptop losing its mind every time I try to tag people I'm going to abandon the 'new tagees' list. I am so sorry everyone! D: ) Enjoy!
[TRIGGER WARNING!: For occasionally vivid descriptions of unspecified eating disorder(s) and brief allusions to drug usage.]
You supposed you could have been a little less surprised when you woke up to nothing but a note and an empty house. You ended up staying in bed most of the day, staring at the ceiling and berating yourself not only for the crying (which you couldn’t seem to stop), but for thinking that he would actually stay. Nobody ever stayed, that just wasn’t how things were in your world.
You were all alone out here for a reason.
The next few days were difficult. Calling in to work wasn’t really an option. Everything seemed to remind you of that…well. You kept thinking that you heard him, or caught a glimpse of him out of the corner of your eye. But it was just your imagination, wishful thinking.
So you rotated the fruit and swallowed your tears, and if you were a little quieter, well, that was allowed in this instance.
Just go to work, do the work, come home, go to sleep. Repeat.
You started asking for more hours. The silence of the woods around your house felt like it was crushing you on your days off so you decided that less days off were the solution. The passage of time was marked by the quiet ding of the microwave; your garden wasted away outside while you sat in the kitchen with the blinds down.
You had nightmares about Crazzy Steve suffocating you, filthy fingers pressed over your nose and mouth, about Rosemary beating your head in on the front steps with a loose brick.
And that was the worst part, waking up in a cold sweat, chest pitching for breath as you shivered and tried not to cry because you were sick of crying and no one, no one was there to comfort you.
...
When you heard the lawnmower start up one morning you thought you were still dreaming. You pulled yourself out of bed and got dressed. Movements slow and creaky like a sleepwalker, you trudged down your front steps and out into the woods.
The woods that you'd dragged Jeff through by the back of his pants, the woods you'd run through to get to safety. It felt like another lifetime ago.
You hated how your heart fell when you realized it was just Señor Benjamin, the old man offering you a friendly wave from atop the machine when he spotted you. He started making an (incredibly slow) beeline across the lawn towards you. The grass was almost mid-shin height.
“Hola, neighbor! The Hardys aren’t around at the moment, would you like to leave a message?” He asked after he’d stopped the mower blades.
You shook your head. “I was just…I mean, do you know when they’ll be back?”
“Ah, they did not give me a specific date. Mister Hardy said sometime this spring. So I will carry on managing the grounds until they get back from their Expedition.” Benjamin’s words made your heart sink and you were barely able to nod in reply.
Spring.
Who the hell just upped skirts and left these days? You huffed out an angry breath as you stalked back to your house. The anger was a welcome change from the usual misery that seemed to hang over you like a rain cloud; you embraced the hot emotion gladly. You threw open your front door and glared accusingly at the trashcan that overflowed with microwave meal packaging, the sink full of dirty silverware.
I’m alone out here for a reason and no stupid boy with stupid tattoos is going to change that shit.
You were exhausted once you were done cleaning your house, but it wasn’t the achy exhaustion of depression that had grown so familiar in the past weeks. It was the exhaustion of a hard day’s work, the kind that left you bone-tired but absolutely satisfied with what you’d accomplished. With a mental promise to fix your garden back up tomorrow, you fell into bed and slept well for the first time since Jeff had left.
Keeping occupied was obviously the best course of action when it came to staving off the sadness that threatened to swallow you whole. You fixed up your garden and filled your kitchen with garlands of drying herbs, picked more jars for preserves and kept your longer shifts in the grocery store, tried to remember to eat.
Señor Benjamin stopped in at the store sometimes for essentials, and sometimes just to talk. You imagined upkeep on the somewhat massive Hardy estate couldn’t be easy for one man to handle, but he seemed to do fine on his own.
“It is…much less exciting without the boys around.” He mentioned one afternoon, smiling in a way that indicated he was perfectly fine with that.
The days grew shorter and the chilly weather set in. Having finally saved up enough to justify the purchase, you got internet for your home usage and proceeded to look up tutorials on growing plants indoors during the less temperate months. You were determined to keep the sadness at bay even through the cold and rain of winter, doing your best to stay out of the rut of remembering, doing your best to eat.
It was hard to take baths. You felt like your ribs poked out more when you laid down, like your hipbones jutted too far. Plus, that night flooded back into your brain every time you did, and you hated crying for stupid reasons. Jeff limping into the bathroom and holding his side, the wounds on his back--
You were better off showering. It didn’t take up so much time.
You were doing fine. It didn’t hurt anymore. You forgot to eat sometimes and most days it was a struggle to get out of bed but you were fine and it didn't hurt anymore.
“You've grown thinner.”
You had been dreading the holidays (while denying up and down that you were dreading them). But this shit kind of made spending Christmas Eve alone pale in comparison.
Willow had the audacity to just…sit at your kitchen table. With an ornate, black and white cup of what appeared to be tea held delicately with gloved fingers. They tilted their head when you walked in the door, but besides that they gave no indication that anything about this situation was odd. You, on the other hand, were more than flustered. The last time you’d seen them, they were a bit more…lively.
“Well, sit down already. Can I get you a cup? It’s orange pekoe.” Willow said impatiently after you stood in the doorway for several minutes, mentally debating on whether you should flee screaming into the cold, dark woods or whether you should grab some religious artifact and start fucking rebuking the black-cloaked being currently residing in your kitchen. There was, however, a decidedly more civil air to them versus your last encounter. No afterimages in the corners of your vision, barely any echo in your head from their voice.
“I uh…you’re not going to eat me?” You asked hesitantly. You could have sworn that tea set was not there a second ago.
They smirked. “Do you really think I would tell you? But no, if it makes you feel better, I’m not here to eat you. I’m not allowed to touch you, if you recall.” You cringed at the memory and you could have sworn Willow looked apologetic for a split second. It was gone just as quick, turned back into a neutral expression. “Sit down.” You stripped off your wet jacket and hung it beside the door, kicked off your boots and gingerly sat down across from Willow. They gestured up at the ceiling festooned with tinsel. “You have been keeping busy.”
You weren't sure why, but their tone struck you as almost...accusatory. White-blue eyes were narrowed at you. When the hell had doing what you wanted become something that would annoy some...well, whatever Willow was? “I'm sorry, why are you here?” You bristled in irritation. The day had been long and busy, you hadn't been looking forward to your lonely evening but if supernatural harassment was the alternative...
You weren't exactly Ebeneezer fucking Scrooge, and the creature across from you sure as hell wasn't Jacob Marley.
“I am here because I was told to be here.” Willow shrugged. “You have been calling me, you keep talking about not wanting to be alone on Christmas.”
“I did no such thi-”
“You do not have to say things out loud for me to hear them.” Willow interrupted your retort sharply. “Your thoughts pull me. I have no choice but to listen. To...obey, as I do with him.” You flinched at the indirect mention of Jeff and Willow cocked their head. “Ah. There is still something in your rib cage for him. You certainly do spend a lot of time adamantly not thinking about him. Which is still considered thinking about him, I should add.”
You stood up so suddenly your chair tipped over behind you. Willow had the grace to appear a little startled. “Get. Out.” You hissed after storming around the table and grabbing them by the front of their robe. “Get the hell out of my house.”
“You...are very like him, in a way.” Willow's smirk was back. “Alone, but bad at being alone. You scream for companionship in your mind but you say you do not want it with your mouth. How do you think he found me? Being the quiet child is such a lonely existence.”
“I don't...” Your grip slacked off and you took a deep breath. “I don't...I don't need anyone. I've been doing alright.”
Willow snorted. “So stubborn.”
“There's nothing I can do about it!” You burst out. “He left me, okay, freak show? Obviously I wasn't enough of a draw to get him to stick around just until I fucking woke up! Maybe he could have explained...maybe I could have...look, I've spent so much time thinking about this. You don't tell someone you care about them and then react favorably when they slink out on you the next morning, that's not how this crap works!”
“This plan has been in his mind for months. Meeting you changed nothing when it came to that. And yet, everything else has changed. He does not waste physically, but his own ribcage aches. His timing is, as always, impeccably terrible.” Willow's mouth twisted into a frown. “Not to mention his handwriting.”
A hysterical little snicker fought free at how indignant they sounded. You righted your chair and sat back down, putting your head in your hands. “I've been trying so hard. The first couple weeks, all I wanted to do was sit around and cry and feel sorry for myself.” You confessed through your fingers, not really sure why. “But I got up, I did. Every day. I got up and I went to work and I tried to forget that idiot and his stupid fucking brother and their stupid fucking fights and violins and...” You trailed off, swallowing back your tears.
“Nothing has worked. Your body is waning. Your mind is an absolute mess.” Willow's words were unflinchingly honest. “You are alone and it hurts you much more than you thought it would because you care for someone.”
“'Cared'. Past tense.” You corrected bitterly. “I'm done with that.”
“You are a terrible liar.”
“I don't remember asking, freak show.”
“Your empty ribcage misses him.”
“Shut the fuck up.”
“I was there, you know. I am always here and there, though we are separate sometimes.” Willow's tone was conversational as they refilled their teacup. “After you coupled like needy animals, he laid his head on your chest and told you he didn't want to forget. And you stroked his hair like he was a child, held him to your breast. He drank deeply from you and gave you every tiny bit of messy, haphazard emotion he could muster up in exchange for your comfort.” Willow paused, taking a sip from their cup. “He is not one to prattle. He believes in actions; your coupling was him saying what he could not bring himself to say.”
“P-Please stop, I...” You had lost your battle with tears but mercy seemed foreign to Willow.
“I watched him write his ridiculous letter, agonizing over what to say without speaking in that funny way that all humans do. It is an archaic form of communication, though it seems to encourage honesty.” They rolled their eyes. “Many problems of your kind could be solved by simply speaking to one another, but where is the poetry in that?” Willow cleared their throat, folding their gloved hands beside their teacup. “I am here because you called me. I am not here to scold. I am here to say what needs to be said before you do something that would be detrimental to your health.”
Your head snapped up and you glanced at the being across from you with a fair amount of trepidation.
Willow fixed you with a stern look. “Yes, I am aware. He has promised to return, so he will. And if only for my own entertainment, I expect you to meet him head on and make him regret leaving at all. Which you cannot do languishing away in your lonely castle with your precious vegetables.”
“What the hell am I supposed to do?” You asked plainly, wiping your nose on your sleeve.
“Care for yourself as you see fit. But...do it better.” Willow replied. “You must present a vengeful lioness, not a floundering gazelle.” They stood, and the tea set was abruptly gone. “I will take my leave, 'get back behind my line', as he would say. I have thoroughly enjoyed this visit. Even though I did not eat you.” Their tone was playful but still sent shivers down your spine. You got up from your chair by force of habit to open the door and Willow waved you off. “I saw myself in, I can see myself out. If anything happens, all you have to do is call. Oh.” They paused in the doorway, tugging on the corner of their mask as if they were doffing a cap. “And merry Christmas, Ebeneezer.”
It was mid-January when you started to show real signs of neglect. You personally had known for months but having actual proof was...it was difficult.
Vengeful lioness, my ass. You thought ruefully as you stood in front of your bedroom mirror, turning this way and that. It wasn't incredibly pronounced yet, but you knew it was only a matter of weeks before your weight would drop beyond hiding in baggy clothes. This was legitimately terrifying, all the negative emotions twisted up in a knot in your sternum. You couldn't help thinking of that Alien movie, where the creature burst out of the human's chest to the abject horror of the audience.
This wasn't science fiction, however. Granted, you had struggled with your weight before, but you had been much younger. It had been easier to bounce back then. Now you weren't so sure.
You sat down on the bed, staring at your hands for a while. What if he doesn't want me? Can I even do this on my own anymore? That was your biggest fear. If you tried to be careful for this whole time, tried to keep yourself healthy instead of giving in to the little voice that told you to stay in bed, told you that you weren't hungry, only to have Jeff react poorly...
“Never want to forget how you feel, never want to forget you, darlin'.”
You straightened up. He'd said over and over in his letter that he didn't want to forget. He'd said that he would come back. He didn't know about this side of me. He doesn't know anything about me. You frowned. Never mind what people around here will say if I start showing up to work looking like a fucking skeleton.
You got up and walked down the hallway to the kitchen. All this sitting around thinking wasn't doing you any good, not when there were seedlings to water, and you still needed to eat lunch. You stared out the window over the sink as you carefully spritzed the tiny plants in equally tiny trays. It was still cold and rainy out, but the fog was promising. The ground was warming up.
Spring.
One thing was for certain, once Jeff and his kin returned all hell was bound to break loose and you were not looking forward to it in the slightest.
March came and you walked on eggshells for half the month before deciding that it just wasn't fucking worth it. He would show up when he would (if he did at all) and no amount of tiptoeing or overthinking was going to change that.
You slipped into a sort of...resigned state. Not so much a depression this time, but a coming to terms with the fact that you were almost definitely on your own here. You knew you could be in much worse shape, yes, you forced yourself to eat most days but...it could always be worse.
Five and a half months, almost six. You devoured all the information you could get your hands on, the digital copy of The Year-Round Vegetable Gardener residing happily on your phone to be pulled up during lunch breaks or for cross-referencing with The Edible Garden. Not for the first time you mourned your lack of nearby relatives, as you had no one to really bounce garden ideas off of. No sage wisdom from aunts or uncles, no cautionary tales from grandparents. You really were alone here.
It was...crushing sometimes. The weight of loneliness back on you all of a sudden just because you'd cared, because you'd been lonely and you believed some pretty promises of never forgetting (admittedly, you still wanted to believe them). You tried not to think about it too much, though. Your bed had been made, you and Jeff fell into it and now, with or without him, you were carrying on. If anything, you were impressed with yourself, with how far you'd gotten even as entangled as you were in your habits. I can do this.
Every day you got out of bed was another day you succeeded in trying, every day you took your vitamins, ate some breakfast and did your stretches was another positive step forward. And every day it seemed to become easier to do. No hair falling out, no dental problems (yet, fingers crossed on that one).
You were determined to live for yourself and, more importantly, your garden, as March drew to a close. Seedlings had grown into tough little plants and you rose extra early on the second of April to start the process of getting everything in the ground.
You had a new pair of work gloves, gifted to you by Señor Benjamin once he noticed your drop in weight, the older man stating firmly that, “you shouldn't be playing around in the dirt without gloves, think of your health!” His protective tendencies were more kindly than belittling, and he always had so many questions about how are you doing, have you eaten today? when he came to visit the store. It was heartwarming and oftentimes those conversations were the highlight of your day.
You pulled on your high boots, tugged on your new gloves and brought a baseball cap outside for added protection. You'd heard that anemic or underfed people could get sunburned easier. You'd heard nearly everything at this point, you felt.
You were relatively comfortable. The weather wasn't too hot yet, the long-sleeved shirt you'd put on was over-sized enough to allow you to move freely and you'd rolled up the legs of your leggings to the knees. They'd been getting a lot of use these days, seeing as how they were one of the few pairs of pants you owned that would still fit decently on your thinner hips. You rubbed the chilled skin of your stomach beneath your shirt absently as you marked where you would put things in the garden on your layout.
You were so focused you didn't hear the whine of the drone until it was practically on top of you. You watched it go zipping over your garden and all your nerves came flooding back in a tidal wave of fear. Vengeful lioness, c'mon! You scolded yourself, slowly getting to your feet. You debated momentarily on just going inside, locking the door and hiding away for the next couple of...forever. You could definitely live in the dark by yourself. It was probably a lot simpler than all those horror films made it out to be, right? And you'd never go back outside, ever, especially if--
“Darlin'?” You squared your shoulders, hands clenching tight at your sides. Behind you, you heard Jeff clear his throat. “I...darlin', can you turn around?”
“Don't call me that.” Every ounce the angry predator. Willow must be thrilled.
“A-Alright. I won't. I'm sorry.” He apologized, sounding shaken. “God, I know you're pissed with me but it's good to hear your voice.” Jeff swallowed hard. “I told you when I came back I'd fuckin' scoop you up, hold you tight even if you hate me. I know I deserve ya' vitriol but I sure as shit don't deserve to touch you, an' I'm here now so hit me with whatever you've got. I ain't goin' anywhere.”
“Yeah? Well maybe I am.” You snapped, still not bothering to face him. You knew if you turned around you would probably start bawling. You pretended to be studying your layout chart. “What makes you feel so entitled to my time, Jeff? Last I checked, you're the one that left.”
“We had to put Decay in the ground for the final time. We had to go on...well, like I said, a pilgrimage. I had a lot of things to fuckin’ appease before I could fix Matt. But I did it, he and I both did it. He's whole again, whole as he was before. I don't have the guilt of almost destroying his family hangin' over my head like the sword a' Damocles, and I'm...Christ, I'm so sorry. Please, please turn around so I can talk to you.”
You shook your head. There was a dull 'thud' behind you that made you flinch.
“Please, I'm fuckin' beggin', I don't care if you holler at me until you're blue in the face and I'm deaf as a post, please d...please.” Jeff implored. “It took me two fuckin' seconds to realize that I was going to be miserable without you, watchin' Reb an' Matt with Maxel and just achin' on the inside because maybe, maybe if I hadn't been such a jackass in the first place and busted Matt's head I might have had the chance to be happy with you. But I ruined everythin' for myself by bein' an arrogant asshole, wreckin' Matt and I hurt you. I can't even tell which one is fuckin' worse.”
You clenched your hands even tighter around the sheet of paper you held, threatening to rip it. “You could have woken me up.” You said softly.
“I wouldn't have left then. I barely managed to when you were asleep. I kept askin' myself whether my happiness was worth Matt's family bein' fucked up forever and that would ground me but then I'd look back at you and I'd just...” Jeff's voice trembled. “I...It was the hardest fuckin' thing in the world to leave you, I promise that. But I had to do right by my brother.”
“Why should I believe you?”
“I-I can ask Reb or Matt to come over, you ain't gotta' take my word for it this time. Shit, I can even start from the beginning and explain everything, if you want to hear it.”
“Comforting.”
“Please, darlin', I--”
“I said, don't call me that!” You yelled, thoroughly fed up with the bullshit. You angrily turned on your heel, already in the process of gathering up more choice words to unleash.
Jeff was kneeling with his head bowed and his hands in his lap, looking like a man brought before the guillotine. Your words caught in your throat as you watched his shoulders shudder violently with near-silent sobs and mumbles of, “sorry, so fuckin' sorry”.
Vengeful lioness.
“Look at me, Jeff.” You demanded once you were sure your voice would stay steady.
He glanced up quickly, looked down, and then...slowly his head came back up, so slowly. You bit your lip as blue eyes full of tears mapped your face, as his mouth opened. “I--”
“Is it everything you'd ever fucking dreamed of?” You cut him off. “Everything you ever hoped for, Jeff?”
“I...don't understand.” Jeff said hesitantly.
“Get up and come over here.” You ordered. He bolted to his feet, almost tripping over himself in his haste to obey. He spread his arms for a hug but you shook your head, taking one of his hands by the wrist instead. You lowered it to your baggy shirt and...
Jeff flinched back after feeling the sharp jut of your hip through the fabric.
Well. That was definitely a less than favorable reaction.
His whole body had gone tight; you could feel the uneasy shift of tendons in his wrist before you dropped his hand. “Why?” He asked finally, and he had the gall to sound hurt.
Jeff was reeling almost before you even realized you'd punched him in the jaw, your knuckles and wrist alight with pain from the sudden blow. You were pretty sure you'd never been this outraged in your entire life. “You abandoned me, Hardy, what the fuck do you mean, ‘why'?!” You cried.
The look on his face directly after you'd decked him was priceless, but the look he sported now put it to shame. It was confusion, mixed with something that could definitely be described as sadness. You didn't get very long to admire your handiwork though as you found yourself embraced fiercely.
You squirmed in the tiny amount of room you had, doing your best to beat your fists against his chest. “I hate you! I hate you for leaving and I hate myself for letting this happen and I hate you for looking at me like that, I hate you!” You broke down crying even while you were still ranting about hating him, breath hitching as you sobbed into his shirt.
“Oh Jesus, oh fuckin' Jesus, no, shh.” Jeff didn't seem to notice your pitiful attempts to continue kicking his ass, cupping the back of your head and cradling you to his chest. “You're thin as a fuckin' rail, you're gonna' make yourself sick if you keep cryin', please, please.” He tried to calm you as best as he could, his own voice wavering. “I'm never leaving you again, hear me? I came over here to beg your forgiveness. I'm still beggin' but shit, let me take care of you. If not me, at least let Reb or Matt. Feel like you're goin' t' pieces in my arms.”
You shook your head, still furious. “Would s-serve you right if I d-did.” You hiccuped. All Jeff did was hold you even tighter and stroke your hair. “Serve you right if I just disappeared.”
“No, don’t say that kinda’ shit. I need you. Jesus, I need you like I ain’t never needed anybody else before. Let me help you.” Jeff pleaded, pressing his forehead to your own. “Let me help. I’ll get you healthy again in no time, I promise.” He took a deep breath. “Matt an’ Reb…they know I left you. They know and they know why I did it and Matt still threatened to kick my ass. He called me a coward, a liar, everythin’ under the sun. A total punkass for abandoning you after…after everything.”
You snorted, trying to pull away again.
“Reb said you’d be traumatized and that she was disappointed in me.” That got your attention. “I hadn’t thought about it beyond worrying if you would be sad or angry with me. You were so strong when you dealt with Matt and when you stood up to Rosemary, I-I assumed you wouldn’t really...uh…well, I figured you would just be angry and ready to kick my ass when I came back. I ain't never been the smarter Hardy.”
“You didn’t think I would get depressed and turn into a fucking skeleton, now did you?” You asked bitterly. “No, you were worried about me being 'sad' or 'angry'. At least, until Reby yelled at you. Funny how that works.”
“I’m an idiot. I’ve admitted that more times than I can count during the last few months. I’m an idiot and a terrible person for leavin’, I’m an idiot for hurtin’ my brother, I’m an idiot and a bastard for havin’ sex with you and telling you I didn’t want to forget you an’ then just. Hiein’ off to parts unfuckingknown with my shattered brother.” Jeff said quietly. “Knowing you cared about me, though…shit, sometimes that was the only thing that pulled me back up off the ground durin’ this whole thing. Knowing that you care, or at least you did before I left, an’ hoping you’d be waitin’ to kick the shit out of me for bein’ dumb enough to leave you when I came back. Fixing my brother via trial by combat ain’t the easiest shit I’ve done, but I wouldn’t change a thing about all the fights.” Jeff tapped the side of his head. “Now he and I are whole again. No more Brother Nero, no more deleting me or setting me on fire or kicking the shit outta’ each other.”
“What makes you think I care?”
“You’re still here in my arms, ain’t you?” You shoved against his chest as hard as you could and all it did was make him shift a step. “Jesus, please tell me you’re fuckin’ around.”
“I’ve lost a lot of weight in a relatively unhealthy fashion. Muscle mass kind of goes hand in hand with that.” You pointed out. You didn’t expect him to look so destroyed. “What?”
“You coulda’ died. Could have wasted away and fuckin’ died while I was off doing this. You’re so fucking strong and I almost killed you. Christ.” Jeff muttered, almost like he was talking to himself. “You threw hands at fuckin’ Rosemary like it wasn’t anything, like she wasn’t the bitch that spits acid and my dumb ass almost did you in. I…I’m so sorry I put you through this.” He cupped your face, turning it gently to the side. “Fuck, fuck, look at you.” Jeff wiped some of the tears off your cheek with his thumb. “Look at you, what the hell have I done to you?”
“Please stop. I know what I look like, Jeff.” You mumbled into his shirt. “I've been doing better. Señor Benjamin started checking up on me ever since I…well, I got all gaunt and I think I worried him. I’m sure he’s over there telling Matt and Reby that I haven’t been myself.” Jeff actually released you when you pulled away this time. “I haven’t had a problem with…this, for a while.” You said, painfully slow. “I used to much more often, when I was younger.”
“Issues with eatin’?” Jeff asked, sounding confused. “You…I mean I never noticed-”
“I have been actively trying to avoid this outcome, Jeff. Doing my best. I take my supplements and sometimes I can eat, but most of the time I just…I don’t want to.” You gestured at the dirt beneath your boots. “I grow my own food as a therapeutic process. I hate wasting food so I preserve stuff and eat good, pretty-colored things and it makes it a little easier. Winter is always hard.” You shrugged. “For me and the plants, I guess.”
“Y'know, I've had...um.” Jeff seemed uncomfortable, twisting his fingers back and forth nervously before shoving his hands into his pockets. “Problems, kinda' like this. Different reasons, but I used to drop weight like a brick and...I mean, I can help, Matt too, he was around when I was like that.” He looked like he was attempting to worry a hole through his lower lip.
You sighed, crossing your arms over your chest as you saw Matt and Reby making their way through the woods behind him. Maxel had grown so much since you’d last seen him, a bona-fide toddler now walking along with almost sure steps.
Matt waved to you, smiling broadly once he got close enough. “Hello! I…” Matt began, then paused, glancing at Jeff. “Can I have a minute alone with them?”
Jeff wordlessly retreated to where Reby waited at the edge of the woods, his shoulders slumped.
When Matt spoke again he kept his voice deliberately low. “We haven’t met while I was in my right mind. But I remember you. And I remember what you did for my family.” He sounded so normal it threw you for a loop. No strange accent or medieval-sounding words. “Jeff made the mistake of mentioning to us how he…left you. He did everything for my sake but as usual, he has all the the delicacy of a bull in a fucking china shop.” Matt met your eyes, but only just. “You…I imagine it was difficult. I’m sorry.”
“I've definitely been better.” You replied, raising an eyebrow. “You seem healthy as a horse.”
“Yes, thanks to my little brother. He...it was so hard on him, on my family. I don't remember some of the things I did, and Jeff doesn't appear interested in telling me.” Matt grimaced. “Regardless of what he did, the pieces I can remember don't exactly paint me in a good light.”
You shifted uncomfortably. Why on earth was he telling you all of this? You would give anything to just go back to your plants.
“I...I speak to you today as a total stranger. And I have to ask something of you. There is a final process to solidify my recovery.” Matt said hesitantly. “A sort of new beginning ritual, if you will. Reby and I were hoping...I mean, after all you've done for us, we know it's pretty audacious of us to ask anything of you but we were hoping we could convince you to be the Hardy's guest of honor at the ceremony tonight.”
You blinked up at the man, confused. “You...what, you guys having another bonfire or something?”
“A little more elaborate than that, but the concept seems about right. We have talked on it for a while and both Rebecca and I agree that no one is better suited for this than the one who had nothing and nearly gave everything, who kept House Hardy from falling that dark night.” Matt's face grew sad. “I am sorry we could not be present during this hard stretch that you've had.”
You waved off his concern. “I did this to myself. I'm better now.”
“Will you do us this honor, then? It will be a more...formal gathering. Rebecca has offered to style your hair, if you would like.” He gestured toward his wife, who waved and smiled.
“Oh, gosh, I...um...I don't have anything to wear, really. I've never dealt with anything too formal.” Your whole face went pink with embarrassment. “You have to understand, I don't want to make you guys look bad if this is a big deal.”
“Please, don't even worry about it. The honor of your presence is more than enough, trust me.” Matt seemed overjoyed when you finally nodded, calling Reby over with Maxel. Jeff stayed put at the edge of the woods, appearing to busy himself watching Vanguard One weave through the tree trunks.
You only realized you were staring when Reby gently put a hand on your shoulder. Maxel cooed and wiggled from his spot balanced on her hip. “Did he at least apologize?” Reby asked quietly. Matt looked over at his wife, confused at the change of subject.
You nodded, feeling melancholy close up your throat. “I punched him.” You managed to admit.
Matt, to your surprise, absolutely roared with laughter, barely stopping himself from slapping you on the back. “Holy shit, you did not! That’s amazing.”
“He asked me why I looked like this! I just…I don’t know, I lashed out. It was stupid of me.” You mumbled. “It’s been a long time. I…obviously I still care about him even if I don’t want to. I wouldn’t have walloped him in the jaw if I didn’t care, y’know?”
Reby gave Matt a look over Maxel’s head and then shifted the baby to her other hip. Maxel quieted down, eyes studying your face with that customary ‘young child’ seriousness. You smiled at him, offering a little wave. The boy thrashed, starting to put up a fuss and Reby let him stand on his own.
Maxel was off like a shot, staggering steps across the uneven terrain of your yet-to-be-planted garden. “Matt, make sure he doesn’t get into anything he shouldn’t.” Reby ordered. Matt grumbled but headed after his son, quickly hoisting the little boy up into the air. You watched him go, watched him interact with the protesting Maxel and you felt…you weren’t sure what it was. Your eyes burned with tears and you quickly looked away from Matt and Maxel.
Reby caught your chin before you could stare at the ground, her own eyes kind and knowing. “Jeff will be at tonight’s ceremony, of course. He’s a big part of it. I understand, obviously better than Matt does, that being around him may be painful. You don’t have to come if it will be too much for you.” She said quietly over the airplane noises Matt was making. “I understand that it’s selfish to ask you to deal with anything else.”
“I…I just don’t really have anything to wear. What if I look silly or embarrass you guys?” You asked, staunchly avoiding looking at Jeff.
Reby smiled a little differently this time. Vengeful lioness. “Leave that up to me, sweetheart.”
You weren't sure how to feel as Reby zipped up the back of your lone black dress. “I really want to cry but you spent so much time making my face look good.” You whispered, making her laugh.
“Why do you want to cry? You look amazing!”
And it was true, you looked incredible. You barely recognized yourself. Reby was obviously a master of her craft. “I don't think I've ever liked my face or hair this much.” You replied honestly.
Reby shook her head. “You have a wonderful face and beautiful hair. You're so silly.” She said, patting your cheek carefully. She seemed a little worried as she gave you a once-over, tugging your dress so it sat better on your shoulders. “How do you feel? Will you be warm enough in this? You can still say no, you know.”
“I...I want to go.” You said determinedly. “I mean, I'm scared I'll flub something but if you guys want me there-”
“Of course we do! After everything that you did?” Reby made a noise of disbelief. “You go wait in the living room with the boys, alright? Tell them I'll be right there. Just have to fix my contours.”
You nodded, leaving after glancing at yourself in the mirror one last time. As you moved to the stairs you could already hear Matt talking to Jeff in the living room.
“...another painting, like the one you did for my bedroom. But it's got to be big enough to hang over the mantel. Rebecca loved the theme so if you want you can just continue it.”
“Whatever you want, Matt. I...shit, I'm just happy you're back.” Jeff's voice was quieter and you paused at the top of the stairs, straining to hear. “I can't say it hasn't been rough. I would understand if Reb wanted to annihilate me.”
“She knew it was an accident, Jeff. And I assume you managed to convince her you'd go through hell or high water to fix me.” Matt joked. “I...hey, hey, easy. It's alright, c'mere.”
You heard a shuddering sob and you closed your eyes tightly, inhaling through your nose.
“Christ little bro, don't go to pieces on me just yet, okay?” Matt sounded somewhat choked-up himself.
“I ruined e-everythin', Matt, everything, they hate me and I just-”
“No way. You quit this self-pity shit, Jeff. You're stronger than that, knock it off.”
You felt that you'd eavesdropped long enough and proceeded to head down the stairs as loudly as you could to alert the two men of your presence. Maxel made a surprise appearance at the doorway of the living room, staring up at you. He looked very dapper in a bright purple shirt with a soft green vest over it, and you made sure to tell him as much when you knelt down to his level. The little boy was obviously still a bit wary of you, teetering momentarily before pulling a one-eighty turn and heading back to where his father and uncle stood beside the mantel.
“Maxel! Don't be rude, when a lovely individual compliments you on your vest, normally, as a gentleman, you say thank you!” Matt scolded, turning his son back around. Maxel waved his arms in the air, giggling at the new game Matt was apparently playing. Matt sighed, shrugging at you. “Well, I tried.” He continued to spin Maxel, slow enough that he could keep his footing. “You do look great. I guess that dress you had was just fine, huh?”
“That and all the manual labor Reby put in as far as my face goes.” You said, laughing when Matt gestured with his free hand for you to spin as well.
“Show off for us, huh?”
Suddenly feeling shy, you couldn't help the way you glanced at Jeff. The other man seemed to be in a staring contest with the mantel and you fumbled to smooth out the skirt of your dress again. “The both of you look very...” You squinted, trying to smile.
“Professional, right?” Matt winked.
“Yeah, that's what I was going to say.” Definitely not weird. Matt was wearing that familiar gray and black velvet coat with a matching pair of pants, his hair semi-tamed in a bun, while Jeff was clad in loose black pants paired with an almost skintight black long-sleeved shirt that bore strange, twining patterns on the sleeves. A white rag spattered with vibrant paint hung out of the younger brother's back pocket, but it looked less like an actual cleaning implement and more like an accessory.
You caught Jeff's eyes when he finally looked up, tilting your head to the side. “What do you think, Jeff?” You knew it was cruel but you couldn't help wanting to make him squirm, even if just a tiny bit. Vengeful lioness.
Jeff looked torn, the mumbled, “You're beautiful,” a little too heartfelt for you to feel comfortable with continuing to tease him. So you obliged with the requested turn, biting your lip. Beautiful.
“He's right, you really do look fantastic.” Matt agreed, raising his eyes to rest on something behind you. “And there is my Queen Rebecca.”
“I don't know about this dress, Matt, I--”
Matt silenced his wife's concerns with a peck on the mouth. “You are ravishing as always, my love. Never worry about that. You could wear a burlap sack and put everyone to shame as far as I'm concerned.” He smiled, pressing his forehead to hers. Maxel hugged her leg, bouncing up and down.
Jeff glanced at you and you held his gaze, raising an eyebrow. He looked like he was about to say something and then Matt raised his arm to rest it on his shoulder. Jeff flinched, gritting his teeth for a split second. You watched his shoulders relax back down after a minute, as though he had been waiting for Matt to...do something.
'Matt would never lay a hand on Maxel or Reb!'
Yeah let's avoid that train of thought. You frowned at yourself.
“Alright, are we all set? I have his backpack right here so I wouldn't forget it this time.” Matt said finally, hefting the overstuffed, brightly-colored pack from its spot on the floor. He scooped Maxel up as well, his son continuing to bounce even once he was in Matt's arms.
Jeff didn't seem able to hide his smile, reaching out so Maxel could grab his hand and shake it back and forth. “Look at you go, little guy!” He grinned, making Maxel babble happily. “Almost as excited as Daddy and I, huh?”
“This will be a night to remember.” Matt agreed, gesturing to draw you close. “We must ask for a blessing before the travel. A custom, you understand.” He explained. Reby straightened out the shoulders of your dress again as Matt bowed his head, placing his hand on the top of Maxel's head. “Seven Deities, we call upon you yet again. Your loyal servants embark on a new journey and we implore you grant us your protection and strength.” Matt intoned. “I am no longer your vessel, no longer empowered as such and so I must beg a boon. Astarr, Brohare! Chall, Cohle, Gustavo! Neric, Sirko!”
He paused and Jeff proceeded smoothly, “We had ended, and now we begin again. The sun has set on one life, we beg for the sun to rise on the next. Grant us the courage we need, the will to continue, keep the ones we love safe and keep our bodies whole.” He also laid his hand on Maxel's head, over Matt's. “Protect this little one, he is our flesh and blood. Protect Rebecca, the queen of Matt's life. Protect Matthew, my brother, the master of his own destiny.” Jeff hesitated. “Protect...protect our neighbor, they have been through so much at our hands.”
“Seven Deities, I beg that you protect Jeffrey, my brother. Make us as one, and grant us victory tonight.” Matt dragged Jeff in to touch their foreheads together. “No longer master and slave, but brothers once more.”
A shiver ran through you at their words. This...didn't sound like theatrics. You wondered wildly for a moment if you were invited along because they needed a human sacrifice or something like that, but you just as quickly dismissed the notion. You'd heard elaborate prayers before. Pontificating relatives at funerals, weepy well-wishes after one too many drinks. But this...it just seemed so much more heartfelt, compared to everything else you had experienced.
Reby squeezed your hand, smiling at you. “Ready?”
“As ready as I'll ever be.” You replied, trying your best to smile back.
You didn't expect for Matt to open the front door and grab onto one side of his patiently-waiting drone.
You narrowed your eyes, debating (not for the first time) whether you were the only person here with a decently firm grasp on reality. “What the everloving shit.”
A laugh burst out of Jeff. He'd obviously been waiting for your reaction. “I promise, it ain't as dumb as it looks. Just latch on.” He said once he had himself back under control, reaching for your hand. Fingers curled gingerly around your own and he placed your hand on the drone, nodding to Matt once he did. “We're good. You uh, you might want to close your eyes.” Jeff added to you. “Can be a little much.”
Yeah this doesn't seem crazy at all. You obeyed almost instantly, resigned to the eventuality that when you opened your eyes you were going to be in your bed, staring up at the ceiling as your alarm chimed in your ear.
There was a momentary absence of noise, around four seconds. Enough that you noticed. Then sound swelled back up, louder than you expected. It sounded almost like...cheering, but muffled and distant.
Beside you, you heard Jeff inhale and his whole body shuddered. “Christ, Matt.”
“I know, it's absolutely exhilarating. Vanguard my friend, we'll need a lift after the ceremony but until then, feel free to see the sights.”
You cautiously opened your eyes and you were greeted with the sight of a cramped hallway as the white drone zipped away. Well. This was...not what you'd been expecting on at least two fronts. “Where are we?” You asked, feeling almost like you should be annoyed with the fact that Jeff hadn't let go of your hand yet.
“The ceremony, of course! From the sound of things though, we may be a bit early. C'mon, let's find the curtain.” Matt urged, leading your ragtag group along.
I feel like two years ago, teleportation would have been more...inaccessible? Exciting? Both? You mused, grudgingly allowing Jeff to guide you while you thought.
“Ah, security! Yes it's us, of course it's us. Where do we need to queue up, I assume we're not late just yet?” Matt was speaking with a man in a black polo shirt, who nodded and gave him directions to 'gorilla position', which you assumed must have been some kind of code. Unless this was a zoo?
You had so many questions, so you finally ended up pulling your hand out of Jeff's grip. The man stopped immediately, turning around and cocking his head. Matt and Reby continued on, oblivious to the fact that they were a party of three now instead of five. “What the heck is going on, Jeff?” You whispered. “What is this place, this ceremony that's supposed to happen?”
Jeff looked absolutely ecstatic, his smile pure excitement like a small child's. “It's gonna' be great, I promise dar...I promise. It's kinda' a surprise though. Can you trust me for a little while longer?” He asked hopefully. You crossed your arms over your chest and Jeff's smile faded. “I...shit, I don't know what to do here. Th-that dress is amazin'. You in it is also amazin'. You're...you're seriously the most beautiful person I ever come across, havin' you here for this is surreal and I just--” Jeff shrugged. “Sorry, I'll shut up. M' sorry. We're almost to the right point anyhow. You'll see what's up in a minute. Promise.”
“I mean I'm not against you continuing to talk about how great I am, if you're waxing poetic.”
Jeff's grin bordered on blinding. “Is...are you jokin' with me? Was that a joke? It was, yeah?!”
“Maybe.” You answered reluctantly. “Look, Jeff, I won't sugarcoat this crap. You hurt me. You hurt me a lot by leaving, I know you at least understand that much. So I don't know if we can ever be...what you might still want. What I wanted. But...yeah, I was joking with you.”
“S' more than I deserve. A thousan' times more than what I deserve. I...thank you.” Jeff said sincerely. He held out his hand. “May I?”
You looked at him for a moment. Looked down at his hand, then back up at his face. “I guess. As long as you keep talking about how good I look.”
His fingers twined through your own, roots into the dirt. “Gladly.”
All the training in the world couldn't have prepared you for what greeted you on the other side of the curtain.
It was like a Colosseum of old, high walls stretching to the darkening sky, absolutely packed with people. Your eyes widened and then Jeff released your hand. The thunderous roar of the crowd threatened to deafen you, but even with that distraction you couldn't tear your gaze away from Jeff.
Bass rhythm thrummed through your whole body and the dance he started into was almost ridiculous. You got the feeling that no one else would be able to pull it off, the gyrations of his hips and the way his teeth were bared in a fierce grin changing it from strange to absolutely warlike. Matt spread his arms wide in greeting and the arena chanted something in reply, it sounded like DELETE, it sounded like HARDY, it sounded like WELCOME BACK.
A tiny hand grabbed at your own and you looked down at Maxel. The little boy didn't seem to have any issues with the sound and you wondered at that for a second before letting yourself be pulled along by the smallest Hardy. Reby had his other hand, looking every ounce the regal queen in her shimmering black gown, even with the small neon pack slung over one shoulder. The ramp down to the floor of the arena looked like it stretched for eons, but before you knew it you had reached the base, where some kind of fighting ring had been set up. Jeff boldly took your hand again, leading you to sit beside Reby. He chucked Maxel under the chin, smiled at you one last time and then moved to follow his brother.
Numerous individuals who appeared just as...colorful as Jeff and Matt were already in the roped-off ring, all of them bearing nearly-identical expressions of awe and confusion. You were more confused about the ladders, to be honest, why were there ladders? Was this going to be an actual fight? Jeff and Matt had said nothing about a fight, just a ceremony.
“Fixing my brother via trial by combat ain’t the easiest shit I’ve done, but I wouldn’t change a thing about all the fights.” Trial by combat. A new beginning ritual. “Grant us victory tonight.”
Your eyes widened as everything clicked, as Matt stripped off his coat and climbed into the ring beside his brother to the joy of the very vocal crowd. They faced off across from the other individuals in the ring, Matt making a sharp, slashing motion with his hand that ignited more calls of DELETE. It looked like Matt said, “delightful!” though you couldn't exactly hear him over the chants of THIS IS AWESOME. Jeff took up the motion, rotating in a circle so he could observe the whole arena.
You had no idea what was about to happen but you got the feeling it wasn't going to be pretty.
The enthusiasm Matt and Jeff had was electric, the crowd screaming their approval for the two men as they fought against an incredibly tall man and his lightning-fast partner, a dynamic duo of shaven-headed individuals, the strongest looking ginger you'd ever seen and a man with athletic tape wrapped around his shoulder. The goal seemed to be the two ornate belts which hung in the air a dizzying height above the ring. Set up your ladder, climb it, grab the belts. Not nearly as simple as it sounded, especially when contending with six other men.
You were on the edge of your seat as they went back and forth. The usage of ladders was breathtaking, death defying stunts performed right in front of you! You could hardly believe what you were watching. Jeff fought with his teeth bared in that furious grin and Matt couldn't seem to stop smiling himself, the two working as a seamless team even in the face of such adversity.
It all came down to a tense moment with Jeff balanced precariously at the very top of a twenty-foot-tall ladder, his arms spread wide. He touched his fingers to his lips and blew you a kiss, mouthed what looked like, “and in this moment”, then proceeded to somersault in an effortlessly graceful manner onto the large ginger and the man with the taped shoulder, sending the three of them crashing through the ladders they'd been laying on.
You felt like everything ground to a halt as Jeff laid there motionless in a heap of twisted metal and bodies. Your mind flew back to when you had found him on the lawn, doubled over and perforated by Abyss, when he came up out of the water deleted and docile in exchange for healing his body.
You pressed your hands to your mouth, barely realizing that Matt had unbuckled the belts from their lofty perch and now held them over his head, basking in the glory of their victory. Jeff finally, finally stirred, shaking his head and opening his eyes. He blinked, looking rattled, before that smile was back and he was pulling himself to his feet, doing his best to stagger back into the ring to celebrate with his brother.
Matt grabbed his arm and tugged him upright, handing him one of the belts and then pressing their foreheads together. They wore identical grins, Jeff closing his eyes and hugging his brother tightly when Matt said something to him.
They stood shoulder to shoulder and held up their belts while the arena indicated its raucous glee in the outcome of the match, a constant roll of DELETE and BRO-THER NE-RO and BRO-KEN MATT keeping the deafening volume at full capacity. Reby seemed just as excited as you were, hoisting Maxel high so he could see his father and uncle standing tall.
It is done, vengeful lioness.
You had no idea where the certainty came from, but it was ironclad and left no room for doubt. You clapped for Matt and Jeff, even managing to muster up a smile when Jeff looked your way.
His eyes flickered for a second, shifting to Willow's white-blue, and they winked cheekily at you from Jeff's body before he shook his head again and looked confused.
It seemed like everyone knew your neighbors. Then again, the arena looked like everyone had been invited to witness their ceremony so it wasn't exactly surprising. Matt gathered his wife and son up in a tight hug once he stepped out of the ring while Jeff hobbled to stand awkwardly beside you. You twiddled your fingers and peeped over at him, catching him in the process of looking away.
“So uh...I think it was a success.” He began. You could hardly believe that after all that, he was going to try and make small talk as his brother and sister-in-law celebrated with a family hug. You were glad that he wasn't expecting anything from you, but he'd pulled off something that seemed unthinkable. “Should be fine now.” He rubbed the side of his head, wincing. “Got a pounder starting but--”
You couldn't take any more of his nervous chit-chat, wrapping your arms around his waist to hug him as tight as you could (hopefully) without hurting him. Jeff sucked in a breath, seeming startled. You stayed put and after a moment, his hand slowly stroked over your hair.
“Thank you for coming, darlin'. It helps if I got someone t' show off for.” His face didn't mirror his cocky words when you chanced a glance up and your heart twisted in your chest. He looked like he was about to start crying. He draped the ornate belt over your shoulder, mustering up a weak smile. “Looks better on you anyhow.”
“You're ridiculous.” Your fingers mapped the designs tooled into the leather, smoothed over the raised metal plates.
“No denyin' that.” Jeff agreed, his hand moving to cover your own on the belt. “Absolutely no denying that.”
You couldn't even believe the day you'd had. You woke up in the morning and everything was normal. Same hard time eating breakfast, same tall boots by the door, same tilled patch of dirt outside.
But now here you were, apparently in Florida, rubbing elbows with a family that you hadn't been sure you'd ever see again, a guest of honor at their most important trial by combat. Jeff's fingers were wrapped loosely around your own as he, Reby and Matt talked excitedly with three young men wearing matching outfits. You lost track of how many people you met, how many people you were introduced to as, “the hero of House Hardy.” You leaned carefully into Jeff's side, surprised when he dropped an arm over your shoulders and pulled you up tight against him. An absent-minded kiss was pressed to the top of your head.
You closed your eyes and sighed quietly.
Jeff lingered on your doorstep when he walked you home much later that night, his hands firmly shoved into his pockets. “I uh...I just wanted to thank you. Y'know, again. For um. For comin' out with us tonight.” He mumbled, scuffing the toe of his shoe on the ground. “You didn't have to, nobody knows better n' me that you didn't have to.”
“Jeff, I'm glad I went.” You said gently.
His head jerked up and he fixed you with a startled look. “You...you are?”
“It was quite the spectacle. You and Matt are an impressive team.”
“We been workin' together most of our lives, I sure as hell hope so.” Jeff grinned. His smile faded after a minute, replaced by something more serious. “Listen, I meant what I said earlier about the um...the weight stuff. If you want I could ask Matt, or you could talk with him. A lot of times when I would start t' plummet I wouldn't be in my right mind so I don't recall a lot of it.” He admitted. You nodded, wondering to yourself what had gone on in their household. “Well uh, I know Matt an' I will be gone tomorrow night but after that we should be home sporadically. I...anytime you wanna' drop in just to see Reb and Maxel she'll probably welcome you with open arms.” He said quietly.
“I'll keep that in mind, thank you.” You replied.
Jeff huffed out a nervous breath and then bowed deeply, one hand resting in the small of his back like he was some kind of dandy. You couldn't keep from giggling and that seemed to make him happy, if the smile he gave you was any indicator. “Have a good night, okay?”
You were reminded of an evening last year when you closed the door behind you and slid to sit on the floor. You didn't want to cry, not exactly, but your chest ached in a way that suggested you might whether you wanted to or not.
You weren't sure how long you sat there before you finally got to your feet and headed to your bedroom. You checked your phone, both disappointed and relieved to see that you had no messages. On a whim, you scrolled back through your photos. You wanted to find the picture you’d taken, the one Jeff said was of him when he was very young.
But upon reaching where it should be in the gallery, something else had taken its place. Your brow furrowed in confusion, trying to figure out what the picture even was. It was dark, a large mass of orange flames licking in from the left-
It’s what I had originally taken a picture of! The burning structure with Jeff at the bottom of it! You realized. And if the picture was back to the way it should be, that must mean…
Everything is in order.
After you tucked yourself in for the night, you stared up at the ceiling. Through the screen in your window you could hear the nighttime sounds of the woods around you and you found your eyes slowly drifting shut.
A violin’s haunting melody wound into your dreams so faint you might have imagined it, accompanied by even softer strains of gentle piano. You didn’t know how you knew it was Matt and Reby, but you were soothed all the same.
Jeff seemed hell-bent on popping in to check on you whenever he could, the now-familiar sound of his dirtbike skidding to a halt your usual soundtrack when you were out in your garden. Sometimes it was only a brief greeting, and then sometimes he stayed and helped with whatever you were doing. He made a concerted effort to inform you of when he would be leaving and when he’d be back. He and Matt apparently had to work to keep their belts from the grueling ceremony.
Matt and Reby made it a point now to find you when you were at work just to say hello. Señor Benjamin occasionally accompanied them to get your opinion on various garden ideas he had. It appeared Matt had been serious when he’d suggested he wanted to start a garden of his own and you did your best to pass along your knowledge.
Eating didn’t seem like as much of a chore anymore, as more often than not you were invited to Matt’s house for supper. It was easier when people distracted you from the fact that you were actually eating, Matt quieting the nagging doubts that you were eating too much by declaring that you looked like you needed more green beans.
You were surprised the first time he and Reby displayed their musical talents after dinner, but even more surprised when Jeff hesitantly took the guitar his brother gestured to and added his own melody to their tune. Maxel seemed to love dancing to the music his parents and uncle made, no matter what the cadence or subject matter, and you found yourself the little boy’s official dance partner on more than one occasion. He had finally overcome his wariness around you, commonly demanding to be picked up with a firm, “Uppy!”
The nights would usually end with Maxel sound asleep on your shoulder, thoroughly exhausted from his workout. More than once the feeling of his tiny face burrowing into your shirt clenched your chest tight, and you’d have to take a few deep breaths to keep from doing something embarrassing.
Sometimes you caught Jeff staring at you and his nephew when the two of you interacted, the expression on his face usually a cross between pained and wistful. You wondered whether he felt the same way you did, whether his chest tightened with unimaginable longing.
Or if he ever woke up out of a sound sleep in a feverish state, your name on his lips, whole body flushed.
Maybe it was wishful thinking, but a small part of you (which grew larger every day) hoped for it.
...
“Why do you always look at Maxel and I like that?” You asked out of the blue.
Jeff froze mid-motion, hands cupped around the base of a squat, look-I’m-doing-my-best cucumber vine. “I…I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He finally replied, brushing his hands off on his jeans and then getting to his feet. “I have to…I think I heard Matt calling me.”
“How old are you?”
Jeff snickered, crouching back down beside you. “Old habits, you know. I uh, I don’t really know why I do, to be honest.” He said quietly, shifting a handful of dirt back and forth between his fingers. “It…I guess it kinda’ makes me sad. But not in a bad way? I don’t--shit, I’m explainin’ this poorly.” He sighed, plucking a small rock out of the dirt in his hands. “Makes me think about what I coulda’ had, if I wasn’t so dumb. I ain’t…I don’t mean I’m jealous a’ Matt or something, I know I got nobody to blame but myself here. It’s just…shit, seein’ you with a little kid makes me all fucked up in the feelings.” Jeff fumbled to explain. “Makes me wonder what’s gonna’ happen when somebody good comes along, treats you right an’ you have kids and they’ll be awesome like you and I…” Jeff’s voice petered out, the tattooed man swallowing hard and staring at the dirt.
You reached out after a second, taking one of his hands in your own.
“Christ, I’m so sorry, I made this all kinds of fucked. You must think I’m a creep.” Jeff whispered. “Gettin’ all wound up over you with another guy’s kid in your arms, with my brother’s kid in your arms. What kinda’ asshole am I, huh?” He tried to joke, ducking his head. You caught his chin, tugging it back up and making him look at you. Jeff chewed his bottom lip, doing his damnedest to avoid your eyes. “I…I’m so sorry I left the way I did. I’m sorry I ruined everythin’ and I’m sorry I’m all hung up on it.” He apologized, his words choked. He shook free of your grasp, getting to his feet again. “I’m just…I’ll go, don’t need to wreck your day with this stupid, self-pityin’ crap.”
You stayed kneeling in the dirt after he headed off, the rumble of his bike fading into the distance. Your mind was a mess of emotions. The part of you that seemed to be winning wanted to head after Jeff because if he was saying what you thought he was saying, you were essentially on the same page.
Who’s to say he won’t leave again, once he gets what he wants?
You felt a bit more certain when you scoffed at that nasty little voice, the same one that chided you for being too enthusiastic about gardening and tried to get you to stay in bed on hard days. You stood, giving yourself a bracing shake before straightening out your shirt and heading for the trail. His house was separated from yours by a thick belt of trees and a crumbling stone wall that had been all but swallowed up by the woods. Jeff’s constant back and forth trips on his dirtbike had worn a smooth path into the forest floor and it was this path that you followed until you emerged onto his property.
Jeff was just heading inside as you made your way across his…creatively trimmed lawn. “Jeff, wait! I need to talk to you!” You called.
He paused, the front door half-open. “Kinda’ not a great time right now.” He replied, but he didn’t close the door.
“I’ll be quick. Probably.” You were at the porch now and he still had the door open. “Look, all that stuff that you were saying--”
“Hey, it’s not a big deal. I know I wrecked shit with you. I just…I mean you asked, I figured you at least deserved the truth, y’know?” Jeff shrugged as though he was trying to brush it off. “It’s okay.”
“It’s really not, and I think you know it.”
He made a noise like he’d been punched in the stomach.
“I mean really, Jeff, you can’t just drop that kind of bomb on me and then go sashaying back to your house for tea and fucking biscuits.” You folded your arms, doing your best to look severe. “Especially when you didn’t even give me a chance to respond.”
“Christ, I wish I’d never opened my fuckin’ mouth. Because this is the part where I lose you for good, ain’t it?” Jeff asked bleakly. “Where you go ‘wow Jeff, that’s fucked up!’ an’ you never talk t’ me again. And I never see you, and you fuckin’ tuck yourself away and stop eating and then one day--”
“You have quite the imagination.” You interrupted him, raising an eyebrow at his rambling. “But no, that’s not what I had in mind.”
“Well…what then?” Jeff seemed at a loss, opening the door a little bit more.
“May I come in?”
“Shit, uh, of course. I’m sorry, wasn’t tryin’ to be rude.” He opened the door fully and you maneuvered past him.
“Did you make all of these yourself?” You asked, distracted by the bright, abstract artwork hanging in the entryway.
“I…yeah. I paint a lot.” He sounded embarrassed. “I’ve always done it. Just kinda’…I like it.”
“Does Matt paint? Or just you?”
“Nah, I got the artsy genes. He got the smarts. And I can play guitar, sing.” Jeff grimaced. “Lot a’ good it does me.”
“You’re talented, Jeff. I mean, I’m no artist so I can’t exactly critique. But you’ve obviously put a lot of your time into this.” You gestured around you.
Jeff flushed at the praise, twiddling his fingers. “Matt always said I could do more. Open a gallery or somethin’. I…wait shit, you ain’t here for this. What am I gonna’ do about you?” He asked plaintively, shaking his head. “I said some heavy shit. So what’s your take on it?”
“I don’t want to hurt you.” You said softly. “There was more than enough of that between us. You’ve been very respectful about not pushing me even though we were intimate before, which is a refreshing change when it comes to my relationships. You also didn’t pass judgment on me for my…problem. I would say I’m sorry for punching you, though in my defense I was in a fragile emotional state.”
“I’m still waiting for the ‘but’.” Jeff’s smile was sad.
You took a deep breath. “There isn't one.” You smiled up at him, taking his hands in your own. “I think...I mean, if you're interested I would like to try again. If you're not interested, that's fine too. I like spending time with you either way.”
“I swear to God if I wake up right now, I...” He paused and stared down at your hands, his hands. “This is real, yeah? You'd tell me if you were a hallucination, right?” He demanded, making you snicker.
“Oh, definitely. No hallucinations here.” You replied.
Jeff tore his hands out of your grip and jerked you into a tight hug, cupping the back of your head as he held you close. “Fuck.” The single, breathless swear zipped like lightning across your skin and you trembled in his arms. “I've missed you so much, darlin'.”
“I missed you too, Jeff.” The knot in your chest, all the negative feelings you'd bundled up, slowly started to ease. He kissed you hungrily and you eagerly returned it, your hands sliding down to tug his hips into your own.
Jeff moaned into your mouth when you moved your hips, finally breaking the kiss. “Christ, like I was made for you.” He panted, glancing down. “You remember.”
“Mmm, yeah.” You breathed, watching as he rocked his pelvis up. “I'm not as thin as I used to be.” You didn't know why you said that, of all things. Talk about a mood breaker, what the hell were you thinking? It's true though, what if he's disgusted by how big I am now?
Jeff suddenly looked worried, hands raising to cup your face. “Hey, I ain't got a problem with you as long as you're in my arms. No matter what size you are, got it?” He said seriously, his eyes searching your own. “You're beautiful. No ifs, ands or buts, an' anyone who says otherwise, includin' the jerky voice I'm assuming is loud in your ears right now, tellin' you that you ain't hot stuff, can get fucked.” He growled, his voice deepening on the last word. “Now, I'd like to continue never forgetting you, and showing you just how pretty I know you are, and explainin' how much I need you. If uh, if you're amenable.”
You weren't able to keep from smiling, nodding eagerly and dashing away the few tears that had managed to sneak out. “Well, you know me, Jeff. I'm never against you continuing to talk about how great I am.” You teased, making him laugh.
He hoisted you up to sit on his hips, peppering your neck with light, playful kisses as he moved down the hall. “Missed you. Missed this too, but Christ, did I miss you.” He said softly, disentangling the two of you so he could open the door to what you correctly assumed was his room. It also seemed to double as his studio; there was an easel with a half-finished canvas on it set up by the window. “Come lay down with me, huh?” His words were gentle, followed by a grateful sigh when you took his hand and led him to the bed.
“On your back.” You ordered, loving how his eyes widened slightly. “Shirt off.”
“Jesus Christ that's hot. Will fucking do.” Jeff almost lost his footing trying to get out of his shirt when his knees bumped the end of his bed. “Shit, shit shit hang on.”
“How do you manage to be the most graceful thing I've ever seen at the top of a ladder, but when it comes to good ol' terra firma you're like a newborn giraffe?” You asked, making him snort with laughter even while he was still fighting with his shirt.
“Listen, you make me all gangly. I don't know if it's appealing or not but it's the truth.” Jeff protested. “I am a fuckin' Swanton master until you come along an' make me forget how to walk right.” He laid down, finally divested of his shirt, and made a grabbing motion at you. “Luckily, now I'm on my back and I don't have to worry about walkin' down here.”
You shook your head, moving quickly to straddle him. Jeff looked startled but seemed to get over it, judging from the needy, begging whimpers of “darlin'” that were only half-caught in his throat. His hands dug into your hips and you felt the swell of his cock pressing up against you through layers of clothing.
“Never thought this would happen again.” He murmured, carding his fingers through your hair while you kissed his neck and collarbone. “It's a goddamn miracle that you're even here right now and I will fuckin' take it, I will definitely fucking take it. I've had dreams like this, about you bein' here on top of me but they all ended the same.” He groaned when you rose up on your knees, words tumbling out of his mouth as you yanked down the zipper on his pants. “Ended with me wakin' up in an empty bed, in an empty fuckin' house, like you did when I left, an' I know I deserved every fucking dream, every fucking time.”
“Mmhm, at least a couple of them.” You agreed, shoving his pants and boxers down out of the way. You carefully stood, balancing on the bed over him with one hand on the wall so you could undo your own shorts and step out of them. The sound that tore free of Jeff's mouth was the best noise you'd heard in your life, half-snarl, half-whine. It made your knees a little weak and your legs shook, threatening to dump you in a graceless heap on top of him.
“Oh darlin', darlin', look at you. Just...fuck, darlin', you're not even close to bein' fair.” Jeff slammed his head back against the mattress, hands balled into fists in the blankets underneath him. “Can't handle it. Need you. I need you, I need you, please, please please.” He begged so sweet, moaning out when you obliged and wrapped a hand around the base of his cock, sinking slowly down onto him. You were so wet the motion was almost too easy, your body humming in feverish delight as you took every inch of his cock until you were finally seated on his hips.
“This alright?” You gasped. Jeff's response was to grab a handful of your shirt and drag you down practically nose-to-nose with him, his other hand jerking your sports bra out of the way so he could fondle your breasts.
“Oh, this is way better than alright. You just keep fuckin' those hips down onto me and we are not going to have a damn problem.” Jeff said through gritted teeth, keening when you obediently shifted your body. “Yes, fuck yes, darlin', oh my God get this fucking shirt off so I can enjoy these perfect tits.” He pleaded, words partially muffled as you kissed him. “Christ I ain't never needed anyone like this, I'm never, ever leaving you again. Ever. Never.”
“I'll hold you to that.” You stopped moving and cupped his jaw, try to make sure he understood the gravity of the situation as your body screamed hungrily for more, more, more!
He looked serious enough, even going so far as to take his hands off of you. “Never again.” He murmured, chuckling into the kiss you gifted him for his sincerity. “Hell or high fuckin' water, never again. The only notes I'm leaving you from now on are gonna' be dumb mushy ones that you'll find inside the refrigerator or behind the couch. Maybe some hearts in the steam on the bathroom mirror. Y'know, that kind of...uh.” He trailed off when you pulled your shirt over your head and disposed of it, then he caught the back of your neck and cradled you to his chest.
You cried out at the change of angle while his hips pistoned into you, cock dragging over your spot and your pubic mound slotted tight with his pelvis. You were barely able to move, just grinding against him and whimpering helplessly.
“Sounds like you're close t' comin', darlin'. Am I right? You gonna' come, you gonna' come on my cock?” Jeff hissed in your ear, his voice dipping low with every emphasized word. “I know you want to, I know you want to so fucking do it, darlin' I want it, God I need it, I need you, I need you to let go, fuck, darlin', darlin'-” You bit down on his shoulder in an attempt to muffle your scream when you came and Jeff made a noise that sounded suspiciously close to a sob, burying his face in your neck. “Christ, m' gonna' come, darlin' I have to pull out, I gotta'-”
“Come in me.” You panted, twining your fingers through his.
Jeff stared up at you, his whole body trembling. “Oh fuck, darlin', I-”
“Please.” You added breathlessly, making Jeff groan.
“Fuck, fuck, you can't just--like that? Fuck, if you want it. If you want it. Do you want it?” He gasped, hips quivering nervously under you.
You nodded, pressing a kiss to his knuckles and shifting your weight from side to side. That was apparently enough to convince him as he thrust up into you once more, hard enough to rock your knees up off the bed and then came inside you with a loud groan of completion.
He smiled up at you, so happily that you became self-conscious, drawing back from his warm look. “What?” You asked finally, surprised when he started to laugh, actually laugh, and he pulled your face down to his for a kiss that seemed to last for hours.
“Thank you. Thank you so fucking much.” Jeff sighed when you parted, his hands finding yours.
Tattooed roots dug deep into your soil once more, but this time you didn't feel like likening yourself to plain old dirt. No, you were a garden, flourishing now like you always should have, your skin alight with the fire of a thousand eager blossoms. You were strong and vibrant and alive, and Jeff seemed to realize that.
“You're the most beautiful person I've ever had the pleasure of knowing. I'm so glad you came over.” He murmured, that goofy smile back on his face. “You uh, wanna' get dressed again? I can show you some more of my paintings or something. Play you a song, if you want.” He offered, a little shyly.
“I think I'd like that a lot.”
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artsychica2012 · 7 years
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(via New Orleans Mayor Mitch Landrieu’s Speech on Terrorist, Genocidal Confederate Symbolism Is One for the History Books  )
With the weight of history bearing down on his shoulders, a resolute calm in his gaze and a slight tremble in his voice that spoke not of nervousness but of a deep awareness that the words he was about to speak would be recited by generations to come, New Orleans Mayor Mitch Landrieu stepped to the microphone last Friday and gave the speech of a lifetime.
I thank you all for coming today.
The soul of our beloved city is deeply rooted in a history that has evolved over thousands of years; rooted in a diverse people who have been here together every step of the way—through good and through bad. It is a history, our history, that holds in its heart the stories of Native Americans —the Choctaw, Houma Nation, the Chitimacha, Hernando De Soto, Robert Cavelier, Sieur de La Salle, the Acadians, the Islenos, the enslaved people from Senegambia, Free People of Colorix [sic], the Haitians, the Germans, both the empires of France and Spain. The Italians, the Irish, the Cubans, the South and Central Americans, the Vietnamese and so many more.
You see, New Orleans is truly a city of many nations, a melting pot, a bubbling caldron of many cultures. There is no other place quite like it in the world that so eloquently exemplifies the uniquely American motto: e pluribus unum—out of many we are one. But there are also other truths about our city that we must confront.
New Orleans was one of America’s largest slave market[s], a port where hundreds of thousands of souls were bought, sold and shipped up the Mississippi River to lives of forced labor, of misery, of rape, and of torture. America was a place where nearly 4,000 of our fellow American citizens were lynched, 540 in Louisiana alone; where our courts enshrined ‘separate but equal’; where Freedom riders were beaten to a bloody pulp. So when people say to me that the monuments in question are history, well, what I just described to you is our history as well, and it is the searing truth.
And it immediately begs the questions, why there are no slave ship monuments, no prominent markers on public land to remember the lynchings or the slave blocks; nothing to remember this long chapter of our lives of pain, of sacrifice, of shame, all of it happening on the soil of New Orleans. So for those self-appointed defenders of history and the monuments, they are eerily silent on what amounts to this historical malfeasance, a lie by omission. There is a difference, you see, between remembrance of history and reverence of it.
For America and New Orleans, it has been a long, winding road, marked by great tragedy and great triumph. But we cannot be afraid of the truth. As President George W. Bush said at the dedication ceremony for the National Museum of African American History and Culture, “A great nation does not hide its history. It faces its flaws and it corrects them.” So today, I want to speak about why we chose to remove these four monuments to the Lost Cause of the Confederacy, but also how and why this process can move us towards healing and understanding each other.
So, let’s start with the facts.
The historic record is clear, Robert E. Lee, [Jefferson] Davis, and P.G.T. Beauregard statues were not erected just to honor these men, but as part of the movement which became known as “The Cult of the Lost Cause.” This cult had one goal—through monuments and through other means—to rewrite history to hide the truth, which is that the Confederacy was on the wrong side of humanity.
First erected over 166 years after the founding of our city and 19 years after the end of the Civil War, the monuments that we took down were meant to rebrand the history of our city and the ideals of a defeated Confederacy. It is self-evident that these men did not fight for the United States of America; they fought against it. They may have been warriors, but in this cause they were not patriots. These statues are not just stone and metal. They are not just innocent remembrances of a benign history. These monuments purposefully celebrate a fictional, sanitized Confederacy; ignoring the death, ignoring the enslavement, ignoring the terror that it actually stood for.
And after the Civil War, these statues were a part of that terrorism as much as a burning cross on someone’s lawn; they were erected purposefully to send a strong message to all who walked in their shadows about who was still in charge in this city.
A piece of stone—one stone. Both stories were history. One story told. One story forgotten or maybe even purposefully ignored. As clear as it is for me today ... for a long time, even though I grew up in one of New Orleans’ most diverse neighborhoods, even with my family’s long proud history of fighting for civil rights ... I must have passed by those monuments a million times without giving them a second thought. So I am not judging anybody, I am not judging people. We all take our own journey on race.
I just hope people listen like I did when my dear friend Wynton Marsalis helped me see the truth. He asked me to think about all the people who have left New Orleans because of our exclusionary attitudes. Another friend asked me to consider these four monuments from the perspective of an African-American mother or father trying to explain to their fifth-grade daughter why Robert E. Lee sat atop of our city.
Can you do it? Can you do it? Can you look into the eyes of this young girl and convince her that Robert E. Lee is there to encourage her? Do you think she will feel inspired and hopeful by that story? Do these monuments help her see a future with limitless potential? Have you ever thought that if her potential is limited, yours and mine are too? We all know the answer to these very simple questions. When you look into this child’s eyes is the moment when the searing truth comes into focus. This is the moment when we know what we must do—when we know what is right. We can’t walk away from this truth.
Now I knew that taking down the monuments was going to be tough, but you elected me to do the right thing, not the easy thing, and this is what that looks like. So relocating these [Confederate] monuments is not about taking something away from someone else. This is not about politics, this is not about blame; it’s not about retaliation. This is not a naive quest to solve all our problems at once.
This is, however, about showing the whole world that we as a city, that we as a people, are able to acknowledge, to understand, to reconcile and most importantly, choose a better future for ourselves making straight what has been crooked and making right what was wrong. Otherwise, we will continue to pay a price with discord, with division and, yeah, violence.
To literally put the Confederacy on a pedestal in our most prominent places in honor is an inaccurate recitation of our full past. It is an affront to our present, and it is a bad prescription for our future. History cannot be changed. It cannot be moved like a statue. What is done is done. The Civil War is over, and the Confederacy lost—and we are better for it. Surely we are far enough removed from this dark time to acknowledge that the cause of the Confederacy was wrong.
And in the second decade of the 21st century, asking African Americans—or anyone else for that matter—to drive by property that they own; occupied by reverential statues of men who fought to destroy the country and deny that person’s humanity seems perverse; it seems absurd. Centuries-old wounds are still raw because, you see, they never healed right in the first place. Here is the essential truth: We are better together than we are apart.
Indivisibility is our essence. Isn’t this the gift that, we, the people of New Orleans have given to the world? We radiate beauty and grace in our food, in our music, in our architecture, in our joy of life, in our celebration of death; in everything that we do. We gave the world this funky thing called jazz; it is the most uniquely American art form that is developed across the ages—and from different cultures. Think about second lines, think about Mardi Gras, think about muffuletta, think about the Saints, gumbo, think about red beans and rice. By God, just think. All we hold dear is created by throwing everything in the pot; creating, producing something better; everything a product of our historic diversity. We are proof that out of many we are one—and better for it. Out of many we are one—and we really do love it! And yet, we still seem to find so many excuses for not doing the right thing. Again, remember President Bush’s words, “A great nation does not hide its history. It faces its flaws and corrects them.”
We forget, we deny how much we really depend on each other, how much we really need each other. We justify our silence and inaction by manufacturing noble causes that marinate in historical denial. We still find a way to say, “Wait, wait, wait, not so fast.” Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. said, “Wait has almost always meant never.” We can’t wait any longer. We need to change. And we need to change now. No more waiting.
This is not just about statues, this is about our attitudes and behavior as well. If we take these statues down and don’t change to become a more open and inclusive society, then all of this would have all been in vain. While some have driven by these monuments every day and either revered their beauty or failed to see them at all, many of our neighbors and fellow Americans see them very clearly. Many are painfully aware of the long shadows their presence casts; not only literally but figuratively. And they clearly receive the message that the Confederacy and the cult of the lost cause intended to deliver.
Earlier this week, as the cult of the lost cause statue of P.G.T Beauregard came down, world renowned musician Terence Blanchard stood watch, his wife, Robin, and their two beautiful daughters at their side. Terence went to school on the edge of City Park named after one of America’s greatest heroes and patriots, John F. Kennedy. But to get there, he had to pass by the monument to a man who fought to deny him his humanity.
He said, “I’ve never looked at them as a source of pride ... it’s always made me feel as if they were put there by people who don’t respect us. This is something I never thought I’d see in my lifetime. It’s a sign that the world is changing.”
Yes, Terence, it is and it is long overdue.
Now is the time to send a new message to the next generation of New Orleanians, a message about the future, about the next 300 years and beyond; let us not miss this opportunity New Orleans, and let us help the rest of the country do the same. Because now is the time for choosing. Now is the time to actually make this city we always should have been, had we gotten it right in the first place.
We should stop for a moment and ask ourselves—at this point in our history—after Katrina, after Rita, after Ike, after Gustav, after the national recession, after the BP oil catastrophe, after the tornado—if presented with the opportunity to build monuments that told our story or to curate these particular spaces ... would these [...] monuments be what we want the world to see?
Is this really our story?
We have not erased history; we are becoming part of the city’s history by righting the wrong image these monuments represent and crafting a better, more complete future for all our children and for future generations. And unlike when these Confederate monuments were first erected as symbols of white supremacy, we now have a chance to create not only new symbols, but to do it together, as one people. In our blessed land we all come to the table of democracy as equals. We have to reaffirm our commitment to a future where each citizen is guaranteed the uniquely American gifts of life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness.
That is what really makes America great, and today it is more important than ever to hold fast to these values and together say a self-evident truth that out of many we are one. That is why today we reclaim these spaces for the United States of America. Because we are one nation, not two; indivisible with liberty and justice for all ... not some. We all are part of one nation, all pledging allegiance to one flag, the flag of the United States of America. And New Orleanians are in ... all of the way. It is in this union, it is in this truth that real patriotism is rooted and flourishes. Instead of revering a four-year brief historical aberration that was called the Confederacy, we can celebrate all 300 years of our rich, diverse history as a place named New Orleans and set the tone for the next 300 years.
After decades of public debate, of anger, of anxiety, of anticipation, of humiliation and of frustration. After public hearings and approvals from three separate community-led commissions. After two robust public hearings and a 6-1 vote by the duly elected New Orleans City Council. After review by 13 different federal and state judges. The full weight of the legislative, executive and judicial branches of government has been brought to bear and the monuments in accordance with the law have been removed. So now is the time to come together and heal and focus on our larger task. Not only building new symbols, but making this city a beautiful manifestation of what is possible and what we as a people can become.
Let us remember what the once exiled, imprisoned and universally loved, now, Nelson Mandela and what he said after the fall of apartheid: “If the pain has often been unbearable and the revelations shocking to all of us, it is because they indeed bring us the beginnings of a common understanding of what happened and a steady restoration of the nation’s humanity.”
So before we part, let us again state the truth clearly. The Confederacy was on the wrong side of history and humanity. It sought to tear apart our nation and subjugate our fellow Americans to slavery. This is the history we should never forget and one that we should never, ever again put on a pedestal to be revered. As a community, we must recognize the significance of removing New Orleans’ Confederate monuments. It is our acknowledgment that now is the time to take stock of, and then move past, a painful part of our history. Anything less would render generations of courageous struggle and soul-searching a truly lost cause.
Anything less would fall short of the immortal words of our greatest president, Abraham Lincoln, who with an open heart and clarity of purpose calls on us today across the ages to unite as one people when he said: “With malice toward none, with charity for all, with firmness in the right, as God gives us to see the right, let us strive on to finish the work we are in, to bind up the nation’s wounds ... to do all which may achieve and cherish—a just and lasting peace among ourselves and with all nations.”
God bless you all. God bless New Orleans. And God bless the United States of America.
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