#( » » conversations | aiden wright. )
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{ @rubctosis }
THE PLAN WAS SIMPLE: slip away with morning’s first light. no FAREWELLS, no word; just a dead and empty nothing. just a vacant room with a desolate bed. no notes. while her time in the capitol had been less than PRODUCTIVE on the relationship scale -- in any scale, really -- she’d much rather go without shattering any HEARTS upon leaving. ashley came to mind first. olivia’s leg was, although still occasionally painful, mostly healed. mostly USEFUL. which meant whatever little DEAL she had -- whatever excuse had been made to keep her here -- was dissipating. time was up; the clock ran out. no more TICKS or TOCKS for her within this building. she’d been away from home for too long. ( she wondered if fiona, or topher, or SOMEONE had noticed her absence. )
though there was little WONDERING going on in her mind at the time, little scheming. her eternally reckless self was all too eager to dive into the promise of some liquor her lips had long since gone without, and with most TRIGGERS children out of the equation, slipping in with the crowd and sticking to lonely corners was easier.
-- one drink, two drinks, three drinks down; a celebration of SOMETHING indeed. she lost count eventually. she lost COGITATION eventually. all that lingered was this: alcohol, CHATTER, and a single bearded figure distancing himself. leaving, as she was planning to, and her hazel eyes followed the man until he evacuated the common room. her train of though was UNCLEAR -- hazy at best -- and she was half way down the hall, trailing behind him, before she even considered asking herself WHAT THE HELL she was doing. what she WANTED. ah, but olivia was a stubborn soul; all kick, all bite. she’d push through and figure it out on the way before swallowing her pride, before TURNING AROUND like a coward.
so she found herself here, in his office, staring the escapist right in the face and teasing: “ if you thought you could just SLIP AWAY unnoticed, grandpa, you were wrong. i’ve got my eyes on YOU. “
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Someone had told him Aiden was in the chamber room, and Sherman could practically smack himself over the head for wondering where the leader of the Capitol was. Of course the older man would be there — if Aiden wasn’t out he was somewhere he could be easily accessible to the rest of the camp and any visitors that came to trade. He could remember walking through the main room to somewhere else in the building and seeing Aiden down there in a chair, reading or talking to someone or simply watching the rest of the camp as they went about their business, taking stock of his people.
Aiden was there now, standing and talking to a couple of patrollers. Sherman couldn’t tell what they were all discussing but Aiden looked calm. As calm as Aiden could be, which meant he looked tired — the bone deep weariness that no amount of sleep could remove. It made Sherman sad to see it again, but there was something so Aiden about the slumped down slope of the leader’s shoulders that it comforted him. He stopped off to the side, not wanting to interrupt Aiden’s conversation, but the patrollers moved off intent on carrying out whatever Aiden had just talked about. Sherman took a deep breath and closed the gap, clasping a notepad and pencil in one hand as his sound processor was still not working ( it simply gave a high buzzing noise over everything and made him want to scream ) and he still didn’t trust his voice to regulate properly, and opted to sign something Aiden should know by now.
“Hello.”
@rubctosis
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10.5.2020
“Late again,” I scold myself as I jog through the parking deck. I promised Charlotte this wouldn’t happen again, but I have to answer when duty calls! I check my watch as I turn the corner - 8:14; not the best time to be having dinner, especially when your reservation was set for 6:30. I pull open the glass doors of Le Pamplemousse. The host says a kind something-or-other to me, but I rush past his tuxedo without a care for the debonair way to present myself. My wife is waiting.
“Sorry - traffic,” I explain as I take my place at our usual table. “Dessert is on me tonight.” I look up to greet her beautiful eyes, but am met by her gratuitous glare. Charlotte is clutching her wallet; her plate already clean and an empty bottle of merlot within reach. “Uh, going somewhere?” I ask with no response. She just stares at my suit jacket - the one she got me from Christmas a couple of months ago. I look down; there’s blood on the jacket shoulder. We both know it’s not my blood… “Look, there’s a perfectly logical explanation for-”
“A perfectly logical explanation for what, Aiden?” she finally speaks.
“For why I’m late and why I’m my jacket is messed up and-” I just realized that question was rhetorical. I place my hands in my lap and look down. There’s plenty of music and conversation within the restaurant, but the silence between us is deafening. I knew this day would come, just not so soon...
“I-,” her voice goes out for a moment. She clears her throat and continues, “I thought we agreed that you’d stop going out there.”
“We, uh, we did…” I loosen my tie in preparation for where this conversation may end up.
“Oh, good. I’m glad I didn’t imagine that.” Her internal rage changes her face; her knuckles are white.
“Listen, I-”
“I’m not listening anymore, Aiden.” She pauses and begins to stand. “I’m done.”
“I’m sorry I was late for dinner, but you don’t have to run off just because you already ate-”
“No, Aiden…” She rumbles through her purse for a moment. After what feels like an hour, she places a yellow envelope on the table. “I’m. Done.” I know exactly what’s inside that envelope...
“Come on, Char, don’t walk away. We can fix this. You said it, we’re meant to be together!”
“Would you quit saying that?! If you believed that we were meant to be together, you would have listened when I said I wanted you off the streets, when I said I was tired of wondering if this was the day you got killed, or when I told you to hang up the suit. It was simple, Aiden, but you couldn’t resist. Your ego won’t let you!”
“It’s not that easy, Charlie - you know that!”
“Then why does it feel so easy? In fact, nothing has felt easier. I thought my decision to marry you in the first place was the easiest decision, but I can’t be your wife anymore. I just can’t. I’m just really tired of watching you get thrown off the tops of buildings.”
“But we can fix this! Just give it time.”
“Time? We’ve been in marriage counseling for a year now, and you don’t show up to half the sessions because you’re parading those damn boots around some back alley. It’d be a different story if you’d given any indication that you could understand how I felt at any point, but it’s always ‘justice this’ and ‘justice that’.” She winces her eyes to keep from crying. A couple of deep breaths later, “When will you care about the justice that I deserve? When will you stop trying to be the hero and just be a goddamn human?!”
“Char…” I reach for her hand, but she snaps it away from me. This speaks more than any emotional word she’d just used; she’s done. “I… I’m sorry, Char…” She looks down in my direction.
“I will always love you, Aiden Wright,” she says through a momentary half-smile, “but - right now - I can’t stand to even look you in the eyes.” She throws her purse on her shoulder and walks over to my side of the table. In one swift motion, she caresses my chin and kisses me softly - a moment both fully blissful and fully bitter. This could very well be the last time our lips touch… “Sign the papers, Aiden. It’ll be easier on us both if you don’t try and be a hero this time.” Just like that, she’s gone. Just like that, my marriage is over.
“Can I get you anything to drink, sir?” Waiters have uncanny timing.
“Scotch on the rocks, please.” The waiter nods and leaves me be. I slouch into the expensive restaurant chair, throw my hands over my face, and sigh. The vibrations from my watch startle me out of my sloop. Wade is calling.
“Talk to me,” I answer.
“Mr. Superlative,” Wade begins, “the city needs your help! Meet me at the top of the Northeastern Tower as soon as you can.” I look at the yellow envelope and at the empty bottle of wine across the table; no amount of super strength can fix this…
“I’m on my way.”
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