Participants:
| Scene Title | Gloomy Gus |
|---|---|
| Synopsis | Tasha's getting a little moldy and Joanna's having a not bad day, so she attempts to air her daughter out successfully. |
| Date | December 12, 2010 |
Solstice Condominiums - Joanna's Condo
Much like the dining room of Tasha's Gun Hill apartment, the dining room of Joanna's condo has been turned into an art studio and a study — with Colette not answering most of her calls and having left Grand Central without inviting Tasha along, the little Ferrywoman has thrown herself into the more mundane but challenging task of catching up on all of her classes, studying for finals, and finalizing the myriad of art projects that account for large percentages of her final grades.
Stacked along the wall are several canvases in varying degrees of completion. The table and the carpet are both covered by tarps, and the former by books, notebooks, and painting supplies. The smell of the room is a mix of paint and turpentine, and Tasha can be usually found here feverishly working: this week is finals week and so all deadlines are looming.
Today she's dressed for painting; despite the cold wintry air outside, she's in cargo shorts and a black t-shirt, paint splattering both the clothing and her limbs as she finishes a piece. It's too abstract to know for sure what it represents, but the colors are dark, foreboding, shadowy and bleak. Earbuds snake into her ears; the music bleeds through in tinny notes that might be recognizable as The Cure's "Pictures of You."
It's a good day for Joanna. Tasha can tell when her mothers days are good, she is out of bed, she is in to work and can get by on over the counter painkillers. Most days are a moderate day for Joanna and there have been some bad ones. But today, is a good one.
But for all that the Lawyer's days vary, Tasha's, she knows, are all bad. Inwardly weeping for her girlfriend who never shows up and is not where she is supposed to be. The faint sound of the music brings about abject disapproval for how loud it is, but Joanna stands in the archway to the den with hot tea in hand and watching Tasha work. She won't say that she doesn't enjoy the turmoil that her daughter is in, because secretly she does because it means that her daughter is home. But she would be a bad mother if she were to say that she does. Because her daughter is hurting and it's fueling the art that's in her home. The incompleted art.
Turning to dip a paintbrush in the palette that sits on the table, Tasha catches sight of her mother in the doorway through peripheral vision, and she sets down the paintbrush, pulls out the earbuds and smiles — she tries not to show the turmoil she's in, but she knows her mother is aware of it. It'd be hard not to be — Tasha, who used every crayon in the big box of crayons until they were worn down to a nub, seems to only be using the dark colors these days.
"Hi," she says, a paint splattered hand reaching to the iPod in her pocket to turn it off. "You're up — do you want to do anything today?" She knows Joanna tries to make the most of the "Good days" which might mean shopping or something else that probably pushes her body too far.
"I thought we might finish some christmas shopping. In as much as Amazon.com will actually send to the door, some things I just don't trust" Joanna offers up, determined that Tasha needs a break, to surface for some air. "You're starting to get a bit moldy too, and there's this thing, called the sun. You're lacking your vitamin D" She's trying to joke, make her daughter smile. Her sister - Tasha's Aunt - had returned to her family and left the two of them alone.
"As much as the sun comes out these days," Tasha says with a shrug, glancing out the window at the cloudy day. "Still, can't complain when it's not polar bear weather out like last year, right?"
She picks up the paintbrush she'd set down a moment ago to dip it in the cup of water, picking up a cloth to blot it dry. Christmas shopping seems ludicrously extravagant when she knows that her friends have almost nothing but the clothes they fled in, fifty miles to the north. "Sure, let me go change. I think I have enough done that I can finish tonight and tomorrow and get everything turned in on time."
"It'll just be for an hour, maybe two. Then I'll order in and you can sequester yourself in here and finish up and I won't bother you at all till you're done other than to slip the food in front of you and pop in a caffeine IV" She Shifts just enough to produce Tasha's boots with a smile. Seems like she came prepared and wasn't going to accept a 'no'.
"Who did you still have to get for?" It's a polite inquiry, she hasn't nosed about to see what's been put on the credit card. She knows her daughter is associated with the so called terrorists, hasn't seen Colette rear her head, and hasn't seen Tasha or followed her when she takes off.
"Should we get something for your father?"
Taking the boots, Tasha glances down at her paint splattered clothes with a smile. "I still have to change, and wash my hands. I don't think Bloomies wants me touching things with my grubby mitts as they are," she says, beginning to move toward the doorway and into the hallway.
"I don't need to get anything for anyone except you. There's not a lot to celebrate this year, and I don't expect anything from anyone but you, so it's a moot point," she says in a flat voice, head down as she heads toward her room. Glancing over her shoulder, she shakes her head. "Dad's probably staying off grid for long past Christmas, Mom." She pauses mid step, and narrows her eyes a little, voice growing a little softer, less stoic. "You know that, right?"
"If I thought any other way Bee bottom, I'd be crazy person. But you saw him, and so you know how to get him something. Just means that we get him… something to help him while away the hours in hiding. Like sweaters and some books" Warms tuff. Wool socks would be practical right? Argyle wouldn't be good. "We'll have as good a christmas as the city will allow us this year and ask santa for a better one next year. With our family and loved ones still with us" She gestures towards the the rest of the apartment. "Go, get ready, it'll take me that long myself"
Tasha's dark eyes drop and she nods, cheeks flushing with a little shame at her pessimistic attitude. If Joanna can be in the Christmas spirit, then so can she, right?
"Maybe some sheet music. He has his bass with him," she points out. "Batteries and an iPod loaded with good music. Books. I'll get it to him, yeah."
She turns and disappears in her room to change.
There's solar charges for ipods right? She remembers his music, what he likes. Sheet music will be plenty and sweaters, a christmas care package for her ex. Books. They'll find their way to Vincent, and at least someone in the family will fare well this christmas and have a little cheer. Tasha speeds off, to go take care of getting and dressed and Joanna starts for her room. Grab some pills and head for the door. Figure out what to get her daughter.