Quitte Cet Enfantillage



Scene Title Quitté Cet Enfantillage
Synopsis Michelle's discovered the change in the weather and the unseen aspect and decides to have a little talk with it.
Date March 3, 2010

Brennan Household, Brooklyn

Michelle has a dirty little secret. Her husband knows, disapproves, but when you love someone, some things you tend to overlook. It's only now and then and while she knows from the medical standpoint how bad it is for you, she would declare that she is french and it goes hand in hand with wine and that one now and then will not kill her while she waves her hand about and talked very clipped, stressing the wrong syllable in the words.

She's a closet smoker.

Right now, she's not in a closet, but instead standing on her front steps in a nightgown and slippers, bathrobe open with it's ties hanging to the side. A pink thing with worlds best mom embroidered on the pocket and her name across the left breast. A present from Marlena that has had plenty of loving and will probably be replaced soon. Maybe. Michelle's sentimental enough she might see about saving it. Turned into a pillow.

It's not one of her youngest's nightmares that's driven her out of doors, still waking up screaming about bodies melted by monsters in ways that only three year old's can imagine and fathom in the depths of their minds and in the dark of the night. Harve had already borne the brunt of her anger for having put their daughter in such a position but had quickly apologized later for the misplaced blame. It wasn't as if he could have predicted a body would be in the alley and he'd done what he could to protect her from seeing more of it.

The cigarette is drawn up to her mouth, lips forming a gentle O around the filter and pressing together, cheeks pressing inwards from the pressure when she inhales, holds, then blows it all out into the air. She's not a single bit cold, despite that it's hovering around zero. Outside her little aura of heat that is. She's not watching the tree's move in time with a gust of wind, or the car that paces past the door with it's headlights on and engine in need of repair. It's half past two in the morning and she's staring up at the sky.

"Qui sont vous?"1 As if having a conversation with god and he could hear. Though really, it's a conversation with the powerful atmokinetic or what she assumes to be one. She could feel it in her bones. It'd already made her call home and spend an hour jibbering in fast paced french with her mother and laughing in an attempt to alleviate the effect it had on her. But she was right back to feeling it again. Bad moods are contagious, everyone knows that. Wasn't like she could just walk away from this.

"Qui vous a faits desserré ? Pourquoi le faites-vous ? Il n'a aucun sens vraiment. Une perte est intelligible, ou peut-être un départ de quelqu'un que vous aimez, mais que vous faites, il affecte plus que vous."2 She'd long since given up on keeping her neighbours warm. They could bend to the mercy of the almighty central heating and take care of their own places. Was simple enough to keep her own place warm, one adjacent to her, but… the two at the same time. It wasn't so much that it was difficult but impossible. Temperature didn't budge. Period. She could only manipulate her own space so much too. Forget the block or the borough. That's what she'd been out here doing.

"Il affecte la ville et il affecte l'état, tout le littoral. Je le croisé vous reçoit seulement dans le problème et qui que ce soit qui vous manquiez le veulent ? Apprécieraient-ils que vous faites ? Je sais, je sais que quelquefois on ne peut pas l'aider, je me veux dire, regarde. J'ai couvert cette partie de la ville avec la neige récemment dans ma colère à mon mari, mais vraiment. Vous devez demander l'aide. C'est la plaine de cela. Vous devez demander l'aide. Demandez-le, avant qu'ils vous trouvent mon ami solitaire. Mieux s'excuser un moment du froid oui, que s'excuser de plus mauvais?"3 The cigarette is brought back up to her lips, the same action repeated. She'll have to use mouthwash when she goes back in.

"Vous devriez aller la trouvent. Il doit être un elle. Aucune femme dans son esprit juste ne porterait le deuil sur un homme à ce titre. Il y aurait la fureur et le fait d'éclaircir et nous aurions la tornade. Apportez ses fleurs, descendez sur votre genou, professez que vous êtes désolés et quittez cet enfantillage. Que vous soyez un homme et cela devrait expliquer tout cela assez oui?"4 She crushes out the last of the smoke against the outside of the stone steps, brushing at it with some snow to clean away the ashes before stepping down to the sidewalk and leaning over the side to drop it into the garbage bins hidden behind wrought iron fence and shrubbery.

"Ne nous faites pas vous trouver. Vous ne l'aimerez pas. Pas un morceau simple. Quittez-le si. Grandir. Renvoyez-la"5 She turns, heading back up the steps to her front door. "Ou portez le deuil plus silencieux"5

Michelle's front door closes quietly leaving the air to lower back to it's natural climes as the door gives a groan and a thunk reverberates of a door being locked.

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