Participants:
| Scene Title | Blackbird |
|---|---|
| Synopsis | Sometimes the truth was there all along, a person just needed to listen. |
| Date | October 7, 2010 |
Retirement Home
Blackbird singing in the dead of night
Take these broken wings and learn to fly
This floor of the retirement home is one of the sadder ones. The white floor and white walls look more like a hospital than a home or apartment. It's where the sickest of the sick go, and one of those places some people go to die. Victoria Russo has been here for just over three years; had lost it after the death of her daughter, or so Brad always believed. Her dementia had set in not long after September's death, but that's how it went, how it's always gone.
Brad lingers in the doorway outside his grandmother's room, that issue of Pause magazine with his face printed over it rolled up in his hands. Visiting her was always an adventure. He sucks in a deep breath before knocking on the entranceway and stepping in, issuing that woman that spoiled him rotten in a life long past, the most charming, toothy, dimpled smile he can muster. "Hey Nana," his voice is quiet, hushed as he nearly tentatively comes towards her. He'd traded in the suit for the day for a pair of faded blue jeans and a blue button up shirt.
In her hayday Victoria Russo was one of New Jersey's finest, her hair always up and her makeup always perfect, prim and proper like a woman from Connecticut. Which is where she originally came from before marrying George and moving with him to New Jersey. To this day she still holds to the same standard, though her hair is thinned to almost balding, and she can't keep her hands from shaking as she puts on her makeup every morning. Still, when she looks into the mirror, she sees the elegant black haired woman in her fifties, not the woman in her late seventies.
Brad's entrance to her royal chamber earns a contemptuous sniff and Victoria turns her head as a Queen would when merely acknowledging a servant. "Benjamin." It's the same name she's called him for four years now. "I don't suppose you've found your fiance yet, then again you were never good for much aside from leaving."
All your life
You were only waiting for this moment to arise
There's a quiet sigh as Brad shuffles into the room before running a hand through his hair, the magazine held out as a peace offering. He doesn't come as often as he should; he knows this. He's known it for years. "Nana, it's Brad… and…" he swallows harder, it's not his way to argue with a mentally ill woman, but after so many years of being told he was incapable of finding his fiance, there's little he can do other than cringe.
He manages the last bit in a raspy whisper as he approaches her even more, that magazine held out for her to take. "…Karolina … died… you came to the funeral. You held my hand. Remember?" His eyebrows knit together tightly; he's never quite coped thanks to his grandmother's new nuances.
Black bird singing in the dead of night
Take these sunken eyes and learn to see
"Brad, I don't understand why you insist on calling yourself by that silly middle name when it's obvious that you're only trying to pander to me after driving my daughter away." There's a milky tinge to her aging eyes, cataracts that haven't been operated on that cloud her vision just enough to be unable to recognize him. That might contribute to the state of her hair and makeup too. "It's all your fault that she doesn't visit me anymore, you know." Her thin finger is as sharp as an icepick as she butts it against the younger man's lapel.
Turning her head toward the window, a few tears sparkle in the old woman's eyes. "I'm so close to meeting my maker. All I want to do is see my September again…" her aged voice cracks with sorrow as she stares blindly toward the cloudy skies. "You need to tell her you love her and that you'll marry her, she'll come back then. Her and the baby…"
"I'm your grand — " wait a tick. Benjamin. Benjamin, his mother's fiance. All this time she's been confusing him for his father, not his middle name; all this time she's been blaming him for driving away his own mother. He swallows hard as his eyebrows furrow further. He watches that finger press against his lapel, as his lips press together, the ethics of the situation wearing heavily upon him. With a loud clearing of his throat, he struggles against his will, but he replies gruffly, "I… I don't think…" he clears his throat again, "Do you think I still love her, even after she disappeared?"
Angling her head so that she just catches him out of the corner of her ancient eyes, Victoria's entire frame jerks as she gives off a haughty sniff. "Of course you do. You loved her through the war, you came back to her and then you let your silly job come in between the two of you. Honestly, Benjamin Ryans, I always thought you were a much better man than that." Her wrinkled hands reach over to pat Brad's hand between her own, a beseeching gesture as she looks squarely at him.
"You made a mistake, tell her that you love her, Benji." The fond nickname that she used to call him hasn't been uttered in decades, not since before the television host was born. "She'll forgive you if you do the right thing and be with her instead of your job."
All your life
You were only waiting for this moment to be free
Blue-grey eyes blink fiercely, desperately trying to process everything that's transpired. His blinks become harder as he tugs on the bottom of his shirt. "Through the war?" He coughs lightly. Benjamin Ryans. A full name. Something to go on, finally. "I… was with her for a long time?" He presses his lips together tightly before gnawing on his bottom lip.
"Why do you think I let my job come between us? And why didn't she tell me about… the baby?" There's something eerie about talking about himself in the third person, particularly as a baby rather than his actual name.
Blackbird fly, Blackbird fly
Into the light of the dark black night.
"She's as stubborn as her father, that's why. In her mind if you didn't want her, you didn't want him either. Oh you should see him, Benjamin…" The old lady's voice swells with pride as she talks about the baby, a smile that Brad hasn't seen in years even creeps across her face. "He's such a little prince. Looks just like you, you know. I know that it breaks poor September's heart every time she looks at him." Letting loose a sigh she half lids her eyes and looks down at their hands. "You'd fall in love with him, such a little character. He loves to hear people laugh and see them smile."
Brad hmmms quietly. "Gra — George is stubborn," he agrees with a faint nod of his head. His eyes sparkle brightly at the smile, a glimmer of hope rarely seen when he spends his time with this woman. With a broad grin, he nods again, "So he's a good kid? And… he looks a lot like me. I'm sorry looking at him hurts her at all. I'm sure he won't want that burden growing up." His mother had always had a sadness that he couldn't explain or quite understand, but he'd lived with it, and let it go as best he could. "Do you think September will ever move on?"
Blackbird fly, Blackbird fly
Into the light of the dark black night.
"Oh, don't you worry, Benjamin, September's a good mother." Victoria reassures the young man, patting his hand again. The fond smile that passes over Brad isn't as warm as the ones he's been given growing up, but it's much better than the looks of disdain that he's been getting for the past few years. "You would have never let your job come in between the two of you if you could just see her with that baby."
Pat pat pat
The gentle touch of the paper thin skin is soft and smooth, as though she didn't have any finger prints. Her eyes betray a sadness as she shakes her head to Russo, "She's never going to move on, Benjamin. She's devoted to you and to your son. She'd never let another man raise him. There's only you."
Blackbird singing in the dead of night
Take these broken wings and learn to fly
All your life
With a nearly uncomfortable shift of his eyes, Brad nods a little. September had always been a little sad. Not absent, just strangely withdrawn through everything. His cheeks tinge a pale pink before he does something likely uncharacteristic of Benjamin Ryans, he leans forward and plants a soft kiss on his grandmother's forehead. If he's never going to see her smile again, at the very least, as Benjamin Ryans, he may as well appreciate it for what it is.
"She's an amazing woman," he states as he slides backwards, giving himself pause for an exit. While he's not entirely sure what to make of Ryans' life with Primatech paper, he knows one thing for certain: his mother loved his father, and that's enough to inspire him to know this man.
You were only waiting for this moment to arise,
You were only waiting for this moment to arise,
You were only waiting for this moment to arise
