Participants:
| Scene Title | Untitled |
|---|---|
| Synopsis | After months apart, a reunion that should have been nothing but sweet is filled with bittersweet nothing. |
| Date | January 13, 2011 |
Dorchester Towers — Russo's Apartment
I'm just another body down
It took Jaiden a week to rebuild the engine of his borrowed boat. Stubborn pride combined with his word ensured that the boat he borrowed would be returned in as good of condition or better than the way he borrowed it, and when you give your word that it'll be returned in good condition, it better. And since it was being used to ship supplies to the island under the guise of fishing, it was in everyone's best interest that he get it going.
Still, can you imagine changing out a camshaft without the right tools? Not fun or easy, let me tell you.
After the work, Jaiden's headed straight back to civilization to see Delia at the last place he heard she was - her brother's apartment. Still greasy and in need of a long, hot shower, Jaiden bounces on his toes in front of the door after knocking with glove-covered knuckles, leaving a small greasy smear. He doesn't know what to expect - only that Delia is hopefully there and will hopefully see him.
Internal bleeding round and round
From inside the large apartment, housekeeper plods heavily to the entrance, uttering little phrases in Spanish. They're muffled through the door. Rosa's life was much easier before Russo's little sister came to stay with him, especially since most of the young woman's visitors have a language problem in that they don't speak hers.
When the door opens and she spies the greasy man on the other side, her eyebrows twitch together. "Maintenance?" Her monotonous voice is quick with that word, she'd called the doorman eons ago about the leak. Waving him through to the kitchen, she points toward one of the appliances that's surrounded by towels. "Dishwasher. You fix."
And all I can think of are ways to die alone
"No….I'm here to see Delia. It's Jaiden. Is she in?" There's really not much more Jaiden can say to the Hispanic housekeeper than that, standing there looking exactly like he just climbed off of a boat after a too-long trip down the Hudson river.
And all I can think of are ways to die alone
The housekeeper's eyes narrow just a little bit and she shakes her head. "Senior Russo no aqui," The graying haired woman studies the man for a long time before glancing at the door where the greasy smear has been left. "Dishwasher, you fix." Again, he's pointed into the kitchen before Rosa walks away and down the hallway.
There's a sound of a familiar voice, speaking a little too slowly. "Rosa? Qu— Q-Quien es?" The reply and whatever comes next is muffled as another door clicks shut. He can hear her but for some reason, her voice seems to be coming from the same place. Not like the Delia he knows at all, the Delia he knows would have been at the door.
A portrait of my skeletal gain
The Delia he knows would have lept into his arms and peppered his cheeks with kisses. The Delia he knows would have had breakfast ready and pulled him into the shower for a playful bath before sitting down to ask about his day. The Delia he knew, he hasn't seen or been with in a very, very long time. But that voice…that whisper thin voice hidden behind the door….it could only be one person. He pauses, looking at the kitchen and the dishwasher Rosa thinks he's supposed to fix and heads in there. Not to fix the dishwasher - the running water and soap is there to make him a little more presentable.
After a bit, his hands are clean, his face is clean, and his hair is arranged in a slightly less mop-like style. He does open the dishwasher and pulls out the bottom rack to make Rosa, if she comes in, think he's working on it, before heading down the hall to the door where he heard the voice coming from. There's a pause as he stands in front of the door, knuckles barely brushing the wood before he gets his nerve up and knocks, lightly, before opening the door and peering inside. "Delia? Is that you? It's Jaiden."
Left selfish and hungry so feed me the pain
Silence.
Behind the door, a very thin Delia sits up in bed with a wooden puzzle scattered around the tray on her lap. Though it's made to be challenging for a three year old, she's been trying to put it together for well over an hour. There's a dog piece that fits into where the dog goes bark bark, a cow piece where the cow goes moo moo, a chicken piece… and so on and so forth.
Blue eyes too large for her emaciated face stare at the painted white wood and she licks her lips slowly to wet them. That's a voice she recognizes, a name that she knows. Heart beating loudly in her chest, she clears her throat and parts her lips. "J-Jaiden? Jaiden you are here?"
Escape reality with new pain
The knob turns, slowly, and the door swings open on well-oiled hinges, without even a squeak. Standing in the doorway is Jaiden, looking utterly exhausted, dirty, dressed in clothes that need to be cleaned before they're considered wearable again. "Del…" his voice cracks. he can't get the rest of her name out. "I'm here."
Rosa be damned. Jaiden enters the room slowly, his boots causing the floorboards to creak with each step, his hands scrubbed clean in the kitchen sink with some dishwashing soap and a heavy scrubbing sponge. he's not going to touch Delia with filthy hands - not after what went on. "Delia…." he stammers. "I…I got here as quick as I could. The boat's engine…on the island…I couldn't make it until just now…." He swipes his eyes with the back of a hand. "You're awake. Thank god, you're awake."
Then let the cycle start again
She looks much too thin, her body didn't take well to how long her mind was gone. Jerking head movements have her looking up at him as he approaches with something of a tentative smile on her face. "Jaiden… You are here." Her breathy voice seems somewhat uncertain and a small movement of her hand has her pinching herself, just in case.
"I— " a long sigh is let loose and her eyebrows furrow together in confusion. Swiping her hands across her lap, she pushes the wooden toy and all of its little pieces to the floor beside the bed, making room for the Australian to sit. Also creating a minefield of sharp objects for him to navigate but the place to sit is most important. "Brad made Christmas."
And all I can think of are ways to die alone
Much too thin. The curves and softness have been replaced with edges, bones jutting out from skin in a way that looks uncomfortable. He doffs his jacket, dropping it on the chair next to the door, and navigates the minefield of pieces, nudging a few aside with a sweep of his foot a bit roughly, clattering against the floor, before he sinks down on the offered place on the bed, his hands searching for hers. "I'm here, Delia….took me a lot longer than I wanted to, but I'm here. I missed you so much."
And all I can think of are ways to die alone
Looking down at the bed, Delia stares at the spot he sits in for a long while before gazing up at him and chewing on her bottom lip. The expression on her face is nothing short of confused as he finds her thin hands and clasps then with his own. Hers are cold to the touch, possibly from poor circulation since the air in the room is a nice temperature. She doesn't say much in regards to where he was, there's no scolding or fit throwing. "I— " in fact there isn't much of anything at all.
"I miss you too," her reply is accompanied by a small smile, strained, and she looks down at their hands. "Did not know if you would come. Lu and dad…" her voice drops off and she shakes her head slowly, dropping her eyes to the floor.
Dream of content, a pain filtered farm
His hands are warm and soft, just like she remembers, but probably a little larger than hers are now. She reminds him almost of when he was in Somalia and saw the victims of famine…barely able to move or hold their heads up…and this is Delia. This is his love. Jaiden sniffles softly, bending to brush his lips over her skin, nodding. "Things are getting kind of dangerous. Your dad's up in Pollepel, and Lu…well, I'll tell her where you are so she can come visit. It's safer for you to not have lots of people know where you are."
All I can say…
A heavy breath is taken in and let loose again in a long sigh. Giving Jaiden a small smile, she nods in answer to what he's saying. "Nick came. Took me swimming." One of her hands lifts to the boogie board propped up in the corner, draped over it is a vintage swimsuit that's drying out from a long soak in chlorinated water. "I can stand." Then her eyes drop again and she shrugs, "sometime I can stand."
The odd manner of speaking, as though she's learning it all over again for the first time, is possibly one of the first things to catch attention. The second, she doesn't move, not really. The third, for the first time since Jaiden has known her, Delia's clothing is all brand new and all designer.
Dreams are bad when all they do is leave the truth behind
Apparently Delia's brother saw fit to spoil the girl whenever she woke up. hell, it's what Jaiden would have done, to be honest. Giving her the things that she deserves, putting her in finery. Sure, it's what could be done, but it's not Delia. Not really. Jaiden's hand strokes over her cheek lightly, the fingertips tracing the curve of her cheek and over her lips, as if memorizing the shape all over again. "You were out for so long, it'll take a bit to get you back on your feet and to your old self again." Jaiden pauses for a moment, nibbling his lower lip. "Is it okay if I hold you?"
Dreams are bad when negativity's a state of mind
There's another quick glance toward the boogie board, then down the hallway where Rosa is currently scrubbing Jaiden's muddy footprints from the carpet. Maintenance men, all the same, all just treading all over nice clean rugs.
"Rules…" Delia says quietly running her hands up from his to his forearms and resting them there. She leans forward slightly, if only to sneak a peak at the Hispanic woman on her knees and give her an imploring look. "Rules say no staying night. Only Cheza." Reaching up, she places her hands limply against the Australian's shoulders. The feel of them is so foreign. With a small uncertain grimace, she pulls her hands away again and lowers her head. There's a guilty expression set there, ashamed. "Jaiden, I— " she begins slowly, uncertain of how to proceed. "Jaiden… I live in Nick's head."
Dreams are bad when all they do is leave the truth behind
Jaiden's eyes close as she rests her hands on his forearms, on his shoulders, feather light, almost as insubstantial as when she was in the dream. "I don't understand…" Jaiden says softly. "You're here. You don't live in anyone's head."
Dreams are bad when negativity's a state of mind
"Not— No. I— " She doesn't have the words, and in response Delia's hands fall limp to her sides as she's unable to vent her frustration with her current situation. "Before I— " fluttering her fingers through the air, she closes in on herself and pulls her hand into a tight fist and places it over her heart. "Come home. Out there." She points toward the window, whose blinds are almost always closed in order to keep her privacy. "Nick, I live with Nick, here." Two fingers poke at her forehead. "Hold me. Keep me alive. Here." She pokes at her forehead again.
Lowering her hand again, she lets out a frustrated huff of breath and purses her lips into a thin line. "How to say— " Blinking twice, she widens her eyes and reaches for her iPad. It's a form of communication that she's been trying to avoid. It's slower than simply speaking now but with great effort, she manages to eke out a few sentences.
I lived in Nick's mind
It's hard being here
I don't know what to do
Dreams are bad when all they do is leave the truth behind
Communication is communication, and no matter what, any is better than none. Not being able to get out the right words is frustrating, and in Delia's case, could be agony, not being able to articulate what she wants to say. He leans over and watches as the iPad is brought out, the text editor fired up and the sentences typed out laboriously. "Right now, Delia, you're doing what you need to do. You're getting better. Stronger. More like your old self." His hand rests lightly on her knee, squeezing. "You feel like a boat without a rudder right now. You've lived in dreams for so long, the real world doesn't seem real anymore does it?" He links his fingers with her, lifting her hand to give her a kiss on the backs of her fingers, his unshaven face tickling a little. "I love you, Delia. More than words. My love for you, I think, had something to do with that other dreamwalker letting you go. And now, you're here. You're back in the world with me."
Dreams are bad.
Nodding emphatically in agreement, Delia's eyes brighten and she smiles. "Yes, dreams. Nick." She taps the side of her head again and lets out a small sigh, smiling. "With Nick." Now that that's out of the way, she leans back against the pillows and twists her head toward the hallway. Her eyelids slowly slide downward until they're closed halfway. "Cheza, Cheza going to come soon…" Sleep.
Dreams are bad.