Participants:
| Scene Title | To Learn |
|---|---|
| Synopsis | A heart to heart and some revelations. |
| Date | February 20, 2011 |
Breakfast passed, and then lunch. The new house stayed in relative quiet. Koshka emerged at some point after the morning's excitement of a ghost-dragon-monster to fix the boys lunch only to disappear again once they were settled with a standard of PB&J and warnings to keep the noise down. The room she'd been working on since early morning is as clean as it can get without a fresh coat of paint or new flooring.
Evidence of the work has been cleared away, taken along when Koshka returned to her sleeping space to straighten up. Sitting on the floor, the teenager works with a more idle nature than would be shown to a task. Hands moving slowly to refold clothes and stack them neatly. The back pack her belongings had been toted in lays open and empty, save for the remains of her stash of treats. Some Tootsie Rolls and a box of Bottlecaps.
Samara had crashed shortly after breakfast. The night without sleep had taken its toll, bringing her to a state of sheer exhaustion by the time breakfast had been cleared. She'd bundled herself up in the periwinkle blanket, tightly winding herself within. She'd forced herself up after the kiddies had lunch; she'd like to sleep tonight if she can.
She'd had a quick shower, gotten into a change of grubby work clothes to help out, and had gotten herself to work at cleaning out the main linen closet.
After the morning she'd felt the need to seek out the teen of the house. Which brings her to this room. She lingers in the doorway, leaning against the doorframe as she crosses her ankles. Carefully she steps into the room. "It looks good," she comments quietly as she cranes her neck to examine it. "A coat of paint and it might even feel kind of like home." Her head tilts slightly, "I'm thinking… lilac? Something pretty and light and airy… what do you think?" She rolls up the sleeves of her work shirt.
There's a scarf tied in her hair, keeping strays out of her face while she works. "What do you think of it? Think it'll be good? A little echoey but that will improve once we get some more furniture in it…"
Koshka glances toward the doorway as she hear's Samara's arrival, a short flick of her eyes toward the woman and then away again. The idleness of her task evaporates, method and movement of folding her belongings becoming more economical. Initially, the teenager shrugs in response to the questions, sparing only another glance toward Sam.
"Whatever you pick, I'll paint," Koshka decides after that first response. She picks up a stack of shirts, fitting them into the open pack. A mix of pants and shirts follows, then the bag is scooted up to the wall near her pillow. Turning back, the girl picks up the cleaning supplies with a sigh. "I'll get back to work now."
"Well I was thinking… " Sam begins as she straightens her lips, and takes a deep deep deep breath, poised to spout whatever she needs to get out, "that we could do it together I mean think of how awesome that could be and we can do the whole process together from start to finish" she holds out her hands in front of her as if being concerned she's going to be interrupted "we could choose the paint drive to the store and paint the whole room together a colour you like and it could be good," her sentence ends with a noisy laboured gasp for breath.
She swallows while her arms cross over her chest. "What I mean is…" she sighs, "Are you okay? I.. I thought maybe we should just talk or— " but Koshka is already talking about working, drawing the slightest, very short-lived frown, Sami's intuition serving her well. She steps a little further into the room shuffling along the floor to meet Koshka.
Again, Koshka shrugs at first. Normally she'd be ecstatic about going to the store, picking out the colors and generally participating in the work, but her demeanor is more subdued. "..If you want to," she says, casting another glance toward Samara. "I'll go with, or …stay here and keep working. It… I'll just… whatever you want me to do."
The cleaning stuff, a rag really, though a bucket of water sits nearby, is clutched in both hands and held before her. Koshka follows up with taking a slight step back, a streak of worry showing briefly. "I'm fine," she answers. "Just… I was told to clean. And… I should do that."
"But you don't seem fine," Sam objects in a squeaky voice with a crinkle of her nose. Her hands fall from her chest and tuck carefully into her pockets. "And yes, there's a lot of work to do here, lots of cleaning to be done and you're doing good…" She frowns a little, just a stitch, as she leans against the wall.
"I'd like to think that over the last few months I've gotten to know you and this isn't your version of fine. I mean, you're smart and hardworking and stuff but you've never been so quiet. I know that like what happened wasn't.. I mean it's not.. it was not good. And I'm not going to pretend it's all okay, like trust issues or.. whatever.. but.. " she releases a slow breath. "We care about you. I know it's weird to see the adults try to act like adults, but we're.. " she sighs. This is not her strength at all.
Koshka sighs and drops her gaze, head bowing slightly. "Just… I'm fine," she says again with a shrug. One hand releases its hold on the rag, lifting to clasp instead the back of her neck. "I know, I really screwed up… I… I didn't think it would hurt anyone. Or…" The girl shakes her head, lower lip sucked in and bitten upon.
"I'm really sorry I did it," the teenager continues, more quietly and sincere. "I… I tried once since coming back and… one time became more." A look is directed toward her bag, Koshka's teeth finding her lip once again. "I don't want to risk anyone…"
A tiny nod is given to Koshka's words. "It could've been bad, but it was okay, right? I mean, a person can't change the past, but they can aim to do better in the future." Sami issues a weak smile as her hands move to her hips. "And I know you didn't want to hurt any of us.. you just need.." she frowns slightly as she backs up against a wall. Slowly she slides down it, murmuring to herself rather than Koshka, "…your life isn't just about you… that's all.." Sam rests her head against the wall.
"And it's a balance, I guess. Of risks. I mean one day you're off doing your thing invisible to the world, responsible to no one and then you have this family you'd never expected…" she draws her knees to her chest tightly as she peeks up at Koshka again.
Sinking as well, Koshka sits cross-legged on the floor. Elbows rest against her knees, the rag twisted between two hands. "It's just… I didn't think anyone would be hurt by it. Not… bad hurt, not any of the kids being taken away." Because she keeps her secrets, more tightly guarded than she keeps her candy horde. "If I got caught then… I don't know, but… they wouldn't have found out about you or Brian or anything."
Koshka drops the rag to press the heels of her hands to her eyes. "I didn't …I'll …when this place can be lived in I'll… Sable might let me go back to the Garden.."
And that gives Sam pause. There's a sharp suck of air through her lips following which her lips are sealed tightly together. Her legs are hugged tighter to her chest and her forehead meets her knees, hiding her face from the outside world. Everything has been raw the last few days. And her normal reaction is generally an emotive one. The sniffle is quiet at first. And then louder.
But Sam's face isn't seeable, not as she folds her arms around her head, minimizing the light coming to her eyes. "Y.. y… you're not happy with us..?" it's a question murmured into her arms and legs, keeping her emotional state an altogether secret. Or, trying to anyways.
"That's not it," Koshka, for once, is quick to reply, panicked and looking up at Samara. "No.. it's… I thought… because I risked everything for stupid reasons." She presses her lips together, chin quivering slightly. "Sami… I don't… I want to stay with you guys. You're… you're the only almost family I have. I…"
The teenager lets out a breath and lowers her head again, staring at the floor going misty. "I'm sorry," she whispers, hands clasping together before her. "I just… I know you guys can't trust me but… I want you to. I'll …whatever it takes. Even… even moving back to the Garden."
"Then stay," Sami sniffles again, choking back the forming tears. Her head cants to the right, facing Koshka with those once again reddened eyes. "I'm sorry," she squeaks. "It's just so much at once I'm sorry…" her hand presses to her forehead tightly as she cranes her neck a little further.
"If you want to stay, then stay. We.. we care about you. We.. I don't want you to leave. I missed you when I was gone. And there's been so much change already and the kids need stability but so do we I need to know who is around and what they can do— " she sighs through her tear-stained face.
"I'm…" she frowns. "I don't want you to go," the admission is honest, exasperated with the tears. "We need your help and not just with cleaning this place up. Like in general… and having you around is like having my little sister around without the craziness— "
"I'm just a screw up," Koshka explains miserably. "I don't want you worried that… I'm not going to do anything like that ever again. Never, even… even if it's life or death." Lifting her head, the girl peers toward Sam. Her own eyes are watery, held back though barely. But seeing Samara in such a state, she flinches and presses her hands to her face.
"I'm sorry, Sami." No amount of apologizing, though, will make Koshka feel better. She's determined she's the cause of the unrest, accepted that she's failed utterly and thus the cause for the young woman's anguished and teary state. "Please don't cry again… I just… want to make it like things were before." Though her tone implies understanding, it's unlikely to happen.
There's another loud sniffle and Samara wipes her eyes. She forces a smile, weak, watery, weary as she rests her head against the wall. Her throat clears, "It's not.. it's been a crazy few weeks." Her hand combs through her hair, brushing it behind her ear. "I'm.." She presses her palms to her eyes, scrubbing away the salt from her tears.
She rests her cheek along her knees, head still turned towards Koshka. She sniffs again. "There's just a lot going on. I mean I was dead just months ago and now I'm alive and now I'm really living— " she shrugs slightly. "It's a lot. I mean… imagine a life where you couldn't talk to anyone couldn't be seen by anyone and then you meet someone who turns everything on its head. Getting married, looking after some kidlets, trying to be responsible, figuring out how to be responsible…" her cheeks flush.
Koshka scoots across the floor, turning upon reaching the wall to sit beside Samara. Her knees go to her chest, arms wrapped around them and hands gripping her forearms with a worried-white knuckled grip. "You do great with the kids," she says once settled, taking a wavering breath. "Just… me screwing it all up.. You are responsible."
Koshka earns another smile amid all of the tears. She mops the moisture forming along her cheeks. "I…" she begins quietly. "It's not just this. I'm sorry, this is so not adult right now— crying is just how I deal with anything," her hazel eyes cut over to Koshka as she straightens. "It's just.. a lot of things." Her cheeks flush brighter as she rests her cheek on her knee again. "We're not telling people yet, but.." she sighs lightly and shakes her head. Something for later, maybe.
The shadow of a frown furrows Koshka's brow as she looks up at Sam, still watery eyed and unsure. "What.. I don't… Last time you weren't telling people…" The girl looks passed Samara to the doorway, then back again. "…Is everything okay with you and Brian?"
"No no no nonononono— " Sam holds up her hands semi-defensively. "I mean, yes, we're okay. We're good. We're.. doing well. Like really well." Her face reddens more now. Her eyes are dry now as she presses her palms into the floor. Her smile becomes sheepish. "I.. I'm not going anywhere. We're getting married soon, likely. And things are.. " there's another twitch of a smile. "No, it's nothing like that just.. I'm pregnant." Her eyebrows arch high. "But we're not telling people."
"You're what!?" Koshka's face falls, though a grin tries to pull out. Really it ends up being a conflict of emotion that only ends with the girl half laughing and half crying. It makes sense for why Sami's being all emotional now, and really, honestly, she's happy for the two of them. But simultaneously she feels worse for even thinking about trying thievery again.
"I'm so sorry," the teenager says, her forehead going to her knees. "I mean… I'm really happy but… Sam.. I let you and Brian down… I let you down. I…" She pauses, jaw working soundlessly for a moment. "..I want to make it up… some how.. a… another chance. Please. I… so I can get things for you…"
"Sorry. I am terrible at dropping this into conversation," although it was worse with Brian. Mid-fight. Pre-violence. "Brian is no better," she mutters, the memory of how he just casually mentioned it to Colette fresh in her mind.
"I know you're sorry. I get it.. and I want to trust you again. It's just.. going to take time, okay?" her smile eases some with an unusual sparkle. "And it's not about getting thing, we care about you. I care about you. And you're doing good with the work on this place." She reaches out to squeeze Koshka's shoulder.
"I understand," Koshka answers, still torn between misery and excitement. The former still seems to be winning out. Her head lifts just a little, enough to place her chin on her knees. Eyes settle on her feet, moist and still leaking. "..I know. I'm… —I know."
Sami slides closer to Koshka, wrapping an arm around the teen. "You are awesome," she encourages as she too sniffles. Koshka's tears keep her own eyes watery, but the support is here still. She squeezes a little tighter as she leans into the teen. "Everything.. this will be okay. Just.. remember, right?" Sam releases a slow breath, "And I.. I'm still learning. But that's the point. To learn. And get closer to the mark next time."
