Participants:
| Scene Title | Future Growth |
|---|---|
| Synopsis | More than roses grow in Eltingville. |
| Date | April 24, 2011 |
Eltingville Blocks — The Brick House
The light breeze causes wisps of Samara's hair to flow quite freely about her face. Her eyes are protected by the pair of aviator sunglasses, and her hair has been tugged towards the back of her head in a rather haphazard array of curls that had been left to air dry. Her cheeks flush a faint pink while her gloved hands— in a pair of far too big for her leather gloves— press against the bench of the garden.
The blue scarf at her neck has the opposite effect than which it's intended. The little nip of colour against the oversized grey hoodie she wears does little to conceal her appearance. The two images juxtaposed— that of the sunglasses and scarf in opposition to the grey hoodie— make her seem like a Hollywood celebrity just out of rehab than the version of careful she wishes to emulate. Or, at least, they would if it weren't for the dirt already smudged along the knees and shins of the worn blue jeans she wears.
She slides off the bench as, bringing herself to a kneel in the garden again. With a twitch of a smile, she turns to face Delia, issuing the other woman a small shrug as she tugs the leather gloves from each of her hands, laying them to rest beside her. "I haven't gardened in years," she notes with a large toothy grin. "In fact, I haven't touched anything like this since I died…"
"Because love goes where my rosemary grows~" Delia's off key voice echoes through the back yard as she turns the soil in the bed that she's chosen to put that particular plant in. Already there's a bunch of discarded little green plastic containers where seedlings of various types have been pulled and then planted properly. The majority of them are herbs, the few flowers that have been purchased are limited to roses. Turning to the other woman, a bright smile is given and she spikes the little trowel into the dirt. "Thanks for helping me, I don't know the first thing about gardens and I really want this to be perfect. I'm going to have the best lawn in Eltingville to go with the best house."
A glance is given to the back door and a smile turns a bit shy before she goes back to pushing a hole for one more little plant. "Do you have a job and stuff here? I mean… I know Mister Logan helped you in and everything but are you and Brian alright for food and stuff?" The mention of the man's name elicits a faint blush to the redhead's cheeks that she turns down to the flower bed, allowing her hair to fall forward to hide it.
"What did you think about him anyway?" The casual question is a little shaky in delivery and Delia stops, tilting a tiny seedling into her hand.
There's a stifled chuckle at Delia's comment about the best lawn. "It will be wonderful! In fact if Eltingville had a magazine I bet you that your lawn would be featured!" Sam agrees with another twitch of a smile, easing herself in her spot as her hands press to the dirt. There's something soothing about getting her hands dirty that she can't quite identify. There's a small tilt of her head as she considers the question, "I don't have a job here, but I think we're okay? For awhile anyways. I'm not really counting on being able to work. I'm supposed to be careful or something…" Her nose wrinkles slightly. "I had the good sense to tuck cash underneath my shirt." There's a pause and another goofier smile, "And the oddly good sense to die before going to college." Her parents had saved for years. With another small shrug she considers, "I'll talk to Brian."
Her cheeks flush at the notion of what she thinks of Logan, a very different blush compared to Delia's. "He's… " there's a quiet hmmmm as Sam considers how to describe John Logan. "He's not what I'd expected," a thought punctuated with a twist of her lips and an adamant nod, "He's.. he's all about business but then oddly.. I don't know. He helped me, right? I mean, business or not he got me in here. And I think— despite his business, he's not what he seems." There's a pause, "You know… I thought I needed Brian which is why I wanted to come so badly, but I think he may need me…" It's a weird thought.
"He used to run a strip club in Brooklyn but I think he trades in the stock market now or something, he's friends…ish with really unusual people." Delia says casually, popping the tiny plant into the dirt and pressing more around it to hold it up. Raising her hand, she hooks her hand and rubs the back of her wrist under her eye, leaving a small smudge of dirt. "And me, or— I'd like to think we're friends, Mister Logan and I."
Leaning closer to Samara, a shy smile creeps to her face and she lowers her blue eyes to the bed as she opens a few more holes for plants to go into. "He smells so nice, it's like… Sometimes? When he's not at home, I stand in his door and just breathe. Creepy, I know, you don't have to say it but I love his cologne."
"Um. It's not.. he doesn't.. he's not in the stock market Delia." And then with ever reddening cheeks, Sami's head shakes, "Unless," and, using the word Logan had opted for even her neck becomes red, "pussy counts as.. no, I can't do it." She'd intended to make light of the prostitution business, but she can't. Her sensibilities just don't allow it.
Sam gently digs a little hole while her hazel eyes track to Delia, "Ohmygosh… Delia?" Her eyebrows knit together some while her head cants to the side before she presses her lips together to focus on her work, but the blush doesn't fade. Finally, a single sullied hand reaches up to tug at her sunglasses, removing them from their perch on her nose, "I never would've pegged you as the type," she admits with a long expulsion of breath. "Do you have a crush on the pimp?"
"Cats?" Delia's eyebrows knit together as her chin tilts down toward the dirt and she plugs a few more plants in. She considers this for a second or two, Samara's words drowning in the ambient noise of the little garden. "Is it like show cats? But he's got a do— OH MY GOD!!" Just like the phaser, the dreamwalker's skin turns a bright crimson and both of her dirty hands swoop to cover her cheeks. "You mean— P— Like va— ohmygodohmygodohmygod… You don't think that he— he couldn't he's a— "
Shaking her head a little, she finally pulls her hands from her face. The two muddy prints left are like a child's finger painting. "He's not a pimp, is he? I mean… I— " Then, no matter how illogical, the redhead looks down at herself. "He never even told me about any of it… Like… I know it sounds stupid and everything but… Do you think I'm too ugly? Like, I'm not good enough to know?"
There's a widening of Sami's eyes, "I'm soooo sorry! I thought you knew! Ohmygosh I had no idea it was a secret he said it so openly when we talked the first time— " her eyes turn up towards the sky "— unless he was trying to scandalize me which he totally did— " Her hands trail up to her face leaving two dirt handprints along her cheeks as she shakes her head in very adamant apology— mirroring Delia's position.
"And of course you're pretty enough! I would totally pay to have sex with you— " pause. "If I was a lesbian." Pause. "Which I'm not. Otherwise I just would've dated my best friend instead of being in hot pursuit of the ghost whisperer that is Brian Winters— " And, again her head shakes frantically, "And some of those girls were way less pretty than you and I'm sure that anyone with that much makeup will have some semblance of pretty I swear it's true— I think…" Her lips press together irritably. She frowns a little, "It's how I got in here. Like a prostitute." There's a pause as she shudders, "I got solicited. Kind of."
"I bought the roses for him, you know… Like a thank you for helping me so much." Delia says quietly, trying to switch the subject from the unsavory one that's made them both change color. She quiets for a while, simply listening to Samara backpeddle, the attempt at making the redhead feel a little more worthwhile in the prostitution department earning a little bit of a smile. "Thanks, maybe he's just trying to protect me from all of it or something… right?"
Rubbing her cheek against her shuolder, she displaces some of the dirt, smearing it into a streak across her face and leaving a grimy spot on her shirt. Maybe it's her shirt, it could be one of the many she's stolen over the course of all of her moves. She's lost track. it fits though, so it can't be one of Sasha's. "He got me registered and stuff, I owe him so much. Like, I don't know if I could have done it on my own without disappearing. Hokuto, this lady that teaches me about my ability, sort of implied that I'd disappear if I got registered."
"But here you are!" Sam announces as her hands splay out in front of her like a dirty-handed Vanna White. Her smile eases some while she leans back onto her heels. "Mister Logan is very helpful," she agrees, "And he seems connected, " her words clip somewhat as she leans forward to dig a few more holes, "which is also very helpful." She shoots Delia a twitch of a smile as she fills several of the holes with various seeds.
"I need to meet a lady to teach me my ability to keep me from disappearing," she actually stifles a chuckle at her own comment. Somewhere in this place, she's coming back to herself. "Although I guess my disappearing is very different than the one your teacher implied." Not that she's disappeared since. There's actually a smirk that lines Sam's face as her head shakes, she's been going about this planting wrong. "Do you think," she begins, "if I took a seed in my hand and then phased into the ground that it would have a chance of growing? I mean, assuming I removed my hand or whatever…"
"Oooo we should totally try it!" Delia says about the idea, "You could revolutionize the entire gardening industry. It is an industry, right? I mean… They have competitions and stuff for roses, I know that much." Shaking her head to her own question, the redhead smiles a little and gathers up her little tools. They're bundled into a canvas apron and rolled up while the woman rolls from a kneeling position to her feet and then stands.
"Come on, we'll dedicate an entire bed to it. We can see how they grow, maybe they'll even grow better? Like more organic or something, I don't know." She smiles as she stoops to collect the cloth package and tucks it under her arm. "By the way, you totally have to help me with all this. I don't know the first thing about gardening and I really don't want to kill everything here. I want to take pictures of all the plants so I can show my dad, make him happy that I'm doing well instead of— I dunno… Dead bait."
"That sounds good to me!" Sam quips with a bright grin as she follows Delia to a stand. "It'd be pretty amazing if it made a difference! I keep learning all of this great applications for what I do. Like… somedays I didn't feel like taking the stairs down a floor so I just go through it…" she pauses, "The only issue is knowing when to materialize. Gravity isn't predictable." She shrugs.
Her face contorts into a frown while her head drops some, "Why would you be dead bait? You're.. you're doing what you can, Delia." Her frown deepens, "Parents don't understand everything. They think they know everything, but they don't." She swallows hard while her hand trails to her baby bump, which can't really be seen through the oversized hoodie. "You have a lot to offer and you're smart and funny and capable. You found a way to get registered without disappearing! And you're doing your best to help people!" There's a firm nod following all of this. "Your dad will come around. Dads have to. He's probably just having a hard time with you growing up and making your own decisions or whatever." With a small pause her eyes narrow, "I never realized how attached to us parents are though. I mean, until recently."
"Because you're pregnant?" Delia's blunt question comes complete with a bit of tinge to her cheeks. "I mean, because you know what it's like to be a parent and stuff… You have a whole little person growing inside of you and— well you're going to be a mom." In a way, they share that as a common bond. While not actually have given birth, the dreamwalker is a mother, in the sense that she has a child now. One tangible one and proof of another.
"Sami, can I ask you a question?" She doesn't wait for the answer, instead just keeps talking as though she's already been given the go ahead. Of course the other woman wants to hear, curiosity would likely swallow her whole… If Delia knows anything about her at all. "Do you already feel that bond now? I mean… if you miscarried tomorrow… would you be devastated or just try again?"
The blunt question is met with an easy chuckle from the pregnant woman. "I'm pretty visibly pregnant now. Not like hugely, but it's obvious if I wear anything remotely form fitting." Her cheeks flush a little as she adds, "I know he'd be kind of upset with me if he knew I told you, so you can't say a word to Brian, buuuut… he's attached to this little one too. Yesterday when he saw the bump, and he put his hand on it…" bashfully, her eyes turn to the ground, "It's different. I mean, the connection I have to this little life is…" her eyes become distant as her lips tighten into the smallest smile. "..it's unreal." Sam shrugs lightly. "I can feel him or her now," evidently she hasn't given the baby a gender today. "I sing to baby sometimes. Or read to it."
Defensively, her hand tightens to her stomach at the question, "I love this baby." The admission turns her lips to a frown. "The thought of losing him or her…" the frown deepens. "I can't tell you how much I worried about that. Every time I have the slightest cramp, even if it's just muscular, I worry." There's a hint of a frown, "And I know it's silly. We never planned for this. We never decided the time was right or we were ready to be parents, but… it's kind of beautiful in a weird way." She sighs, "I couldn't imagine being okay if I lost him or her." She frowns a little deeper, "I've had a rough few months, but I bounce back." She clears her throat, "I don't think I could easily bounce back from that— "
"Don't you ever get worried that you'll make a mistake in phasing and— I don't know— he or she will get stuck in a wall or something? It's just so easy to have an accident. You've already had one, I've had one… We're both still just learning." Not that the dreamwalker is trying to put fears into the other woman, there's just questions. Lowering her eyes to the ground, Delia kneels in front of the flower bed and lays out the seeds that will become a bed of creeping herbs of different color and variety.
"There's been dreams, not ones from me… they're memories of the future. Memories that we haven't had yet. I'm supposed to have a daughter with my ex-boyfriend," Delia's lips flatten to a thin line and she gives a sheepish look to Sami. "I've been wrestling with it because she's going to die, at least she did in the dreams. I don't know if I want to go through it, even if knowing her for as short of time as I will— Even if she's worth it."
There's a darkness that comes over Sami's eyes while her hand clasps tighter to her stomach. "I worry all of the time. But I can't live in fear either. I worried about so much. But my accident— my only worry, the only one I've ever had," which lasted four years, "put me in a phased stasis. I don't overwork myself. I watch out for myself. And— " she frowns, "— I've never gotten stuck. The only thing I've ever phased without are my clothes." For awhile her and Brian were the naked ability twins. That was quite the adventure. "And I talked to a doctor about it." She was supposed to cut back more, but that's left unsaid.
A quite breath escapes Sam's lips as she contemplates the situation. "It's not that simple. Having a baby with someone you love and appreciate and actually want to be with… it's kind of great. I was really sick for awhile, but weirdly maybe I thought of it as this odd labour of love for Brian and our child." She shrugs. "My back hurts. My feet are spreading. I'm tired a lot, although not sick anymore, but I love Brian. I love knowing that this is one is ours. That he or she'll have parents who adore each other and that he or she will be surrounded by love."
Her cheeks blush slightly. "I'm not saying you wouldn't love that baby, but I think the entire thing would be harder if I wasn't so over the moon for Brian," she shrugs.
"What if— later— your baby can't phase and you don't know? What if it's something that— I dunno— Like what if it negates abilities being used on it and you don't find out until it's too late?" Delia pauses a moment, holding up both her hands in a surrender fashion and gives a rather uncertain smile. "I'm not trying to scare you, I'm just… If I got pregnant, I don't know if I would take the risk because there's so many dangers, I'm just— I guess I'm sort of surprised that you do, since you would be devastated. It's like drinking a shot of tequila, it might not give the baby fetal alcohol syndrome once, but two or three could."
Quieting down, Delia unrolls her tools and picks up the hooked fork thing inside. After looking between it and the dark potting mix chosen to fill the flower bed, she begins to draw the tines through it, mixing it with the natural soil.
Impulsive. Reckless. That's what her parents had always called her. And Sam had been, particularly early on. Disappearing curbed some of that, but even then, some personality types just don't die. Between the memory, her already-wary self, and Delia's words, Sam slides back to the ground where she'd left her gloves and retrieves the pair, tugging each onto her hands. "I should go," she quips quickly. There's no polite smile. No paling face. Just numbness. And such is her way.
"I need a nap," she doesn't. "And Brian has probably missed me by now," because she's gotten used to disappearing and telling no one where she's headed. "I'll come by another time to help more." It's almost a promise as she straightens back to a stand and turns to go from whence she came.
"O-oh… I— alright," Delia's voice turns low and quiet at the other woman's abrupt announcement. She stops working the flower bed and raises her head to looks up at Samara, her eyebrows creeping high on her forehead in worry. "I'm sorry, I just… I'm scared. I'm stuck between wanting a future that can't happen anymore and not wanting it… because in that future I have a son with a man that I do care a lot about. I might even love him but I don't know, it's complicated."
Though the phaser seems intent on leaving, the dreamwalker seems set on continuing with her garden with or without help. "Maybe I'll see you later, can you tell Brian hi? And maybe I can bring groceries or something… You probably can't go to the community center for food… Can you?"
Delia's admission actually has Sam stopping, her feet literally stopping as she nears the exit; it's a moment's hesitation as she twists back to face the other woman. "I think…" she hmmms. "I think you follow your heart wherever it takes you," she shrugs. "It can't be easy because if it was," her nose wrinkles, "I don't think it'd be worth it." With a quiet sigh, she considers, "If it makes you happy to be with the ex, be with your ex. If this other guy makes you happy, be with him." Her eyebrows knit together some as she considers, "I'm not the smartest or most cautious or even the most athletic, but I know what it means to follow my heart. And I think in a world where everything is so dark, dismal, and un-sunny it becomes the most important thing. So do what makes you happy. If the future happens the way you saw, that's beautiful, but if it doesn't… and you've done what makes you happy today, then you're no worse off, right?" She shrugs. It seems to make sense to her.
She turns back towards the door about halfway, "I'll pass on your hello and I really can't go anywhere too public." Probably being outside is a risk. Evidently it's not one Sam thinks terribly hard on. "The good news is no one will recognize me; it's a great thing… being legally dead…"
Or not beautiful, considering the future(s) she's seen.
"Thanks for the advice, I'll bring some stuff by for you and Brian," Delia's back is to the other woman as she departs, her arms working overtime to mix the old soil with the new potting mixture that she's added. She's not quite sure if it's right but the other woman didn't seem to object to it while they were working on the other beds. "Oh my beautiful little flower beds… Has anyone ever told you that your PH balance is perfect?"
Talking to plants is supposed to help them grow, maybe talking to the stuff they're planted in helps too?