Snippet #2688002

Post-revolution, post-everything-she-knew, Lauren was a more decisive person than she had ever been. Fear no longer controlled her like it had or at least did not keep her in a state of paralysis. She wouldn't let anyone decide her fate for her or let her will be subverted by another's. Such was her reluctance to be made vulnerable again that it took a whole lot to get close to her. She also believed once someone learned she was not all meekness; once they saw the blood in her gums and skin under her nails that they would turn away. The one person who had known her best was dead. And would he have even liked what she had become she wondered? Maybe... After he got over the fact he was dead.

To be known so briefly and never again was its own little Hell. But her life was not completely devoid of relationships; there were some people who were relentless enough to befriend her and demanded to be let in; people who really didn't know quite what they were getting into. People like Debbie Wallace.

"HONEY. Put that thing down before you take someone's eye out." Debbie hollered before hastily prying a rather large steak knife from Lauren's grip.

It was the next day at work and Lauren had already burned herself on the coffee pot machine, dropped a plate, and been generally a frazzled mess up until she intervened. She didn't like the distracted manner in which her co-worker was operating, turning all sharp objects into hapless weapons. She placed it safely in the industrial sink basin before unleashing her knowing gaze on her friend.

"Is it Jackson again? What's he done now? I swear that boy is as wild as a bag of feral cats. I'd of slipped some Xanax into his corn flakes ages ago were he my son. And, you know, my boys ain't exactly the best behaved bunch."

She tossed her candy apple red hair over her shoulder with pursed set of lips. "What? Don't judge me until you've had to corral five of 'em. Plus they daddy, I'm just sayin' is all."

At first Lauren continued to hold a phantom steak knife in her hand, dazedly listening. It was hard to fathom that this was her only friend but Debbie, within her endless twangy spiels always had a few good nuggets of strangely sound advice. When Lauren realized she had probably been staring blankly for too long, she tuned back into the conversation, frantically putting her hands out in front of her.

"Oh no no no I wasn't thinking that I just--"

She conceded to Debbie's well-meaning pestering, knowing the only way to keep her from continuing was to tell her the truth. "--- Yes, it's Jackson. He got in trouble again... He came home with the police yesterday. He set off a bomb with his friends in a school locker!" She said, resting resting on the formica countertop with her face in her hand. "I just don't understand what I'm doing wrong..."

Debbie placed a consoling hand on Lauren's back, halfway into a prime hugging stance already. Her affection was a sloppy, demonstrative thing.

"You can't beat yourself up about it. Boys will be boys and whatnot. I think he just likes him some attention. My Coby is the same way, always spray painting dicks on the barn door. I spent a fortune on cover up paint, but I ain't doing it no more. I'm gonna leave that large neon penis for the neighbors to see. They know how it is raising kids these days."

She quickly steered Lauren back upright, and embraced her friend warmly. Where as most people might have bawked or been embarrassed on Debbie's behalf, Lauren listened to her friend with an unflinching amount of stoicism. She had grown quite used to her detailed storytelling of her family that verged on the explicit. It was only when Debbie pulled her into a warm sentimental hug that she became uncomfortable, managing to pat her two times stiffly on the back before she turned to collect some dirty plates from the counter.

"Lucky the cops brought him to the house instead of charging him, it could've been a helluva lot worse. It's almost like..." Debbie was careful not to make eye contact here as she worked a casual inflection into her tone. Her body language, however, betrayed her. "you've got a special friend on the force looking out for Jax. One could almost say a friend with benefits." She finished, finally facing her with eyebrows raised in both question and accusation, dishes clutched tightly to her chest in voracious curiosity.

"You mean John? What are you saying?" Lauren arched an eyebrow back at her, resting a hand on her hip.

Debbie nearly barked a laugh, "Was that who we were talking about? Funny, I didn't even mention a name and your mind jumped straight to Griner. Very telling." She hummed smugly. "I think you know EXACTLY what I'm saying, more so than you'd like to admit."

For so simplistic a person, she had a razor sharp intuition, especially where men were involved. She shuffled Lauren's discarded plates into her own stack with practiced ease.

"Ain't nothing to be ashamed of. Honestly. He's as good a man as any."

She often found Lauren to be a bit sensitive in her objections. Deb was hardly a spring chicken, but Lauren had the propriety of Debbie's eighty year old grandmother.

"It's not like that -- we're not --" Lauren's cheeks burned red and she pursed her lips shut. Anything she said she knew would only affirm Debbie's suspicions. As she had read in a copy of Shakespeare long ago, 'The lady doth protest too much, methinks.' Instead she waved her hand dismissively at her then grabbed a rag to begin cleaning tables.

Deb just smiled. "You could do worse, so be careful, you string him along for too long and he will find another filly to chase. Men are fickle like that, fickle and stupid." She sighed, the weight of the many stupid men of her past sitting heavily on her chest. "And I bet that good looking man, with all that pent up aggression...probably dynamite in the sheets." she snorted and giggled conspiratorially. "God bless Terry's soul, he ain't exactly exciting in the bedroom. You know what I mean? Slap a girl a little, pull some hair! Though, if he tried that shit outside of the bedroom, in say the kitchen, he'd be liable to get a slap right back."

It was true Lauren wasn't completely oblivious to Griner's attention of her and didn't necessarily dislike it -- it had its advantages and disadvantages. But there was no future, not the future that she could sometimes see the sheriff picturing in his hopeful eyes.

In fact it was this affection and familiarity that were making her contemplate a move, despite having promised her son they would stay until Spring. With Jackson suspended from school probably for the next week, there would be plenty of opportunity to pack and get out of dodge. She looked up from the table she was wiping as Deb came out of the back. Catching her eye, she smiled wistfully before quickly absorbing herself back in her task.

It wouldn't be easy breaking the news to Jackson they would be moving again, it never was, and there was something about this time that made her regret it just a little more.