—chapter four.

  ❛ more than just anger issues, you know ❜  

ELODIE HAD TWO PROBLEMS THAT SATURDAY MORNING. One more immediate, and the other the type to slowly drive her insane over the slower pace of the day.

Firstly, she had no food in her house. That was upsetting because, in the morning, she was more of a ravenous beast than human and needed at least some sort of nutrition to start the morning. All she had, though, were condiments and tea, and neither would fuel her enough to live through the morning. And so, she was forced to walk down to the corner store  and buy the cheapest, worst breakfast sandwich someone could buy. It was dry, flavourless and cooked straight to the bone, and it was disgusting - but what other options did she have, save for energy drinks and marshmallows?

It was a bad way to start the morning, to say the least.

The second issue of hers sat with a very, very strange man named Diego Whatever-His-Last-Name-Was. There were a lot of sub-issues that revolved around him, to be sure, but the largest was that she had absolutely no clue who he was...and no idea how she was going to figure any of it out.

The only times she had seen him was at the bar, with limited conversation airspace, and then when he was saving her life just the last night. Two contrasting events and yet the limited information from both played the same - he was a weird, semi-assholic man with an affinity for knives and a tendency to play on the stupidly-mysterious side of things.

 At Wallow's, well it was not like she could just drop everything and interrogate him. He was a customer, after all, no matter how curious she got she had to mind some manners. They had chatted in between her 'cleaning up'. But that hadn't said a thing about him. He was annoying, she knew that, but irritation and a weird scar didn't just spell out a backstory, did it?

And the other night was no time to play detective. For reasons she didn't want to think about.

Elodie grimaced. Despite all she had told herself, her mind had immediately raced back to the other night and played the events like she was one record short of a good time. How could she have been so stupid? She knew the streets, and she knew always to be on her game, and yet she had practically waltzed her way to the butt of the gun. If the mysterious 'Diego' had not been there...

...she shook her head adamantly. Focusing on what she should have done was not going to help her out. There were bigger fish to fry.

Elodie huffed and set her tea mug down. She'd have to do better than just replaying the details she had already seen - she was better than that. Wasn't she? And sure, she only had a name and a creative description - 'weirdo who favours sunglasses indoors and crap masks, lurks in alleyways, plays Robin Hood at four in the morning in the weirdest of skulking areas' - but anything could be found out, in that day and age.

Right...?

TWO HOURS LATER, AND ELODIE was realising her hopes were wrong, and the world did not indeed have all the answers.

Or any, for that matter.

She had headed to the library, figuring that was the best start of any half-assed investigation of hers. But to no avail. All the computers gave her was a handful of rumours and past scandals, and how was she supposed to know which one fit in with her tall, dark, admittedly handsome stranger? And why were there so many Diego's in one city?!

Elodie had found a great deal of articles, but all of them bordered on totally insane and she wasn't sure which ones to take as fact. Apparently decades before she had moved to the city, there had been a secret society of children that played superheroes, but they had been dismantled and most had disappeared from the public eye. They had seemed to be a big deal, judging from the sheer number of saved articles and clipped magazines, but half seemed more fact than fiction, and nothing she could draw an accurate image of 'Diego' now. If any of them were really him, anyways...

She did find a picture of an independent journalist that had shared photos of a mysterious Kraken that certainly could have been him. If only she could deblur the disaster that image was. There were a couple of things like that, where it could be him but the quality was too bad or the image too crappily done for her to know for sure.

And so in the end, Elodie walked home empty-handed, were mere fragments of a half-beaten truth on a family she wasn't sure was really real. It certainly sounded it, but who knew? And what if Diego wasn't even remotely connected to them? Wasn't like she could travel back in time to check.

Asking him would have to be the answer - but how? When? Would she ever see him again, or was he a twicer-and-dipper? She wasn't totally opposed to calling up every Diego in the city, but it wasn't high on her list of joyous activities. Yet again...

Elodie huffed and slammed her snowy boots to the floor. From there went her coat, thrown haphazardly to the ground with the same frustrated fervour, and then her toque, bashed about like such an innocent piece of clothing deserved her wrath. At least for their sake, she hadn't worn gloves, or they might look even worse.

Once she was done, the young woman leant her weight against the wall and groaned as loud as she could without getting a noise complaint. Not much more than beating up woolly outer-clothes could be done to make her feel better, but damn if she wanted to. There was too much aggression roiling in her veins, it nearly made her sick - it wanted out, and she had no way of obliging the feeling.

And to think, it was all because of a stupid one-named man. Oh, how it made her furious - at her own self, no less!

But before she could sink even deeper into her crisis, the phone rang.

Elodie's head snapped up, attention successfully diverted. She darted around the corner and into her kitchen, lifting herself up to the counter and reaching for the device, all in one go. "Hello?"

"Lola?"

"Wait, holy cr-Ellis, is that you?"

A small chuckle echoed at the other end, sweet and shy. "Grandmother got a phone!"

"Wow, is that right - ain't that a miracle! I can finally hear your voice again!" She shifted her weight against the countertop, grinning. "And when did this happen?" 

"Just now! Grandmother just gave me your number so I could have the very first call!"

"Man, that is so awesome? Um, hey, is she-" Elodie paused her own sentence. Her hand clenched, then unclenched; the finger-spider danced across her legs. "Nevermind. How's school? How's everything there? Are you still working on the piano?"

"School's okay, and -- oh, I've stopped going to piano lessons."

"Oh." The finger-spider froze, then trembled. "I-I'm sorry. Um...everything okay, with them? There's no like...um, no problem with the money, or--?"

"No, not like that. I just..." the boy on the other end hesitated. "I didn't really like doing it...I'm sorry."

The finger-spider was killing itself then, self-inflicting moon-shaped scars onto its soft underbelly. Despite the pain, it picked and picked at the palm, eager to erase the anxiety welling in its human heart. "Don't be sorry, Ellie. I don't want you to do something you don't like, you know? I'm glad you stopped and cause you wanted to, not just-yeah."

"It was a nice instrument, I just don't think I'm built for the piano."

She laughed at that, nervous and high - unnatural. "Well, that's okay. You'll find another passion to fuel, right?"

"Yeah."

She didn't like the way his voice had dropped so low- was it shame? guilt? a secret he wouldn't tell her? - but there was no point in grilling the poor boy. Elodie cleared her throat and moved to focus on his her first point, "how's school going?"

"Okay, I mean...it's school."

"Well, sure, but there's got to be something good?"

He paused on the other end, thinking it over. "Well...I mean, we're growing ducks, soon. My teacher said once she gets the O-K from the school board we can set up the in-que-bay-tor and have them grow right there in our classroom!"

Perhaps grow was not the right word, but the excitement in his little voice placated the finger-spider. It relaxed its talons and laid down peaceful on the right leg, waiting for its next chance to rise again.

"That's amazing, buddy. I'm so happy for you!"

"She said we might even start next week!"

"Wow!" It wasn't hard to fake her excitement, then. Hearing him say anything happily was enough for her to smile. As long as there was something happy, something good enough to make him talk with such animation, she could deal a little more easily with the fear of his unhappiness.

But he's good, she reminded herself. He's not you.

They chatted for a moment or two more, Elodie asking more and more in an attempt to gage how 'good' he was really doing. Ellis had never been an outgoing boy and he did not have a lot of friends, from what he and Grandmother had told her. Most of his 'downtime' was spent at home, though, helping the older woman with housework, or creating eccentric oddities from things he found around the house. And he sounded happy with it usually, but a part of Elodie knew there was always more she could be doing for him.

"Um, is Grandmother there, Ellie?"

"She's in the kitchen, right now."

"Okay - can you switch me to her? Just for a moment, then I'd love to hear more about those ducks."

He knew what that meant, of course. She could hear the phone in his pocket as he ran because of course, he had no idea that someone could hear that, and just had the mission of finding grandma. She also heard his sweet, high voice raise to tell her that 'Lola's on the phone, and she wants to say hi' in the innocent way that every child deserved. And though the nickname stung like salt on an open wound, she still smiled.

He's happy. He's not suffering, you've done-

"-hello? Hello?"

"Hello, Grandmother."

"Elodie, oh - are you alright?"

"What, yeah - why shouldn't I be?"

"Well, I - oh, nevermind." Her tongue clicked loud into the speaker. "Are you doing alright there? Eating, sleeping enough?"

"I'm fine. Doing good. But..." she toyed with the phone string. "I'm curious about you guys, though."

"Me?"

"Yes, you," she gritted out. Already she felt her patience wash away, the thunder rolling in with distant 'booms'.  "And Ellis - why didn't you tell me he stopped the piano lessons?"

"I did not realise I had to run all of his decisions by you, first?"

"Well, I - you don't, I just -- I can send more money, okay? I can send whatever you need if it's that, I'll just need a couple weeks but-"

-she was cut off by the sharp voice of the woman on the other end, who despite being across the country, made it feel like she was right there scolding her. "You do not need to send more of anything. He wanted to stop, it wasn't me or you or anybody else but the child's free will."

"Okay, but-"

"-but?"

"Well, what is he doing now?"

"He does what he wants."

"But - that's not enough for him!"

"Who are you-"

"-don't do that to me. I - I want him to do sports! Or clubs, or...fucking something with his time to make him happy," she groaned, clenching and unclenching her fist around her sweater sleeve. The finger-spider was growing angry again. It wouldn't be long til it attacked. "I want him to be happy, grandma."

"He is happy."

"How can you be sure?"

"I live with him, I take care of him, I see the child every day - I know when he is happy and when he is not. And he is okay. He's a happy, well-developing child who just has no interest in the piano." 

"But he just hangs out at home, and he doesn't really seem to have friends - does he have friends, or is he lying to me on that, too?"

The woman on the other end sighed. "You worry so much. Too much. It'll give me a migraine."

"He is my brother! Of course I'm going to worry about him."

"Yes, some worry is fine, but you worry too much."

"How the hell - you can't just tell me I'm worrying too much!"

"I can, and will." Her tone was sharp, suggesting for Elodie to calm down, or else. "Listen to me, child."

But Elodie didn't want to calm down. And she was listening. She heard every single word the old woman was saying, but it couldn't fit with all the thunderclouds. They roiled and raged and threatened to pour, and she was quickly giving into its toxic energy.

"Ellis is fine, and you send more than enough to support him. You have done more than most would do, and we both appreciate you for it."

"But...well, you could have told me that he quit piano..."

"Why, so you could worry?"

"No, so I knew the situation-" and to worry, who the hell was she kidding, "-and I could try - try to just - I don't know. I just want him to be okay, and with all this going on, I'm worried about his health."

The older woman sniffed. "Maybe it's not his you should be worried for...how are you holding up with all of this?"

"I'm fine. Don't worry about me."

The other end went silent for a moment before she heard the scraping of wood against wood. That silly old rocking chair - it had been so long since she had seen her or it, and yet she could picture them both, swinging gently in the living room. 

Her thunderclouds wept a little, at the image.

"I am worried about you."

"Well, don't be. S'a waste of time."

"Elodie."

Her fist clenched again, reddened. "What?"

 "It's not healthy to internalise like this. You'll destroy yourself from the inside out."

"How many times do I gotta say that I'm fine? Cause I'm dandy. This....this doesn't even bother me."

"You are a horrible liar, child."

"I'm not lying. I don't give a sh...I really am just dealing with it." Her fingers tightened their grips on one another, red and aching. "Sure, it's not pleasant, but I'm not going to die over a little extra stress."

"We both know who this is - you can't just erase that slate and move along, Elodie. You're foolish to even think such things."

She was starting to really hate where this conversation was going. The clouds had just hovered before, but they were getting angry with the lack of action - and all the throwing around of 'he' and 'what he did' wasn't sedating them.

"Look, it's just matter of time before he's dealt with and we can live our lives without his mistakes ruining them."

The chair squeaked, squeaked, then shrieked in the background. Her rocking was growing violent. "You can't run from your past like you think you can. He was your father. Why must you play martyr for a-"

"-stop, I-"

"-you weren't raised a liar, were you? Because all this running from the truth is disappointing me."

NO, he raised me a - she cut the storm off, fighting back the lightning with red-hot, trembling hands. But it wasn't enough; the thunder raged proud and cut her screams out with its own - he raised you, not her. He raised you and you were a liar, because he raised you-

"-I'm fine," she squeaked out.

"You're allowed to still care about him, we all are. But he made a mistake, child. He can still be your father and-"

-the phone dropped from her hand to hang unattended, with garbled speech reaching only the floorboards. She couldn't hold it any longer; the rain fell down her cheeks in torrents, evaporating off only for ten more tears to take its place. Elodie bit down on her lip, hard, choking back the sobs so they just died in her throat.

It was getting too hot. She was getting too hot. Too many memories, too many thoughts- the storm wasn't going anywhere, and she had run out of ideas on how to tame it.

"Elodie? Elodie!?""

She could not talk, too overwhelmed for anything but breathing through the pain. She trembled in place with her hands pressing to either side of her head, as though that push would stop the bits and baubles from exploding like hot coals around her. Everything was clenched and tight and running hotter than she could control - and she was just so frustrated, and angry, but not at anything or one but herself. Nothing but herself, in the tiny apartment that could go up in flames and die all around her, and-

"-Elodie, are you still there?"

Her fingers left her skull to find the phone cord, raising to her ear. She could hardly hear beyond the burning, but she did know she couldn't give in yet. Had to give a proper sign-off. "Yeah, I'm here, sorry I dropped...the phone."

"What is the matter?

"Nothing."

"Elodie. I know you-"

"-I gotta go, okay?" She wanted to talk more, needed to explain herself and figure the situation out, but that could be done later. Maybe even the written word - something where she did not have to talk out loud and on the spot. If she wouldn't burn the paper... "I ordered food, it's here now, we'll talk later, and...tell Ellie I love him, okay?"

"I love you too, Lola!"

She squeezed her eyes shut and tried not to think about how soft and sweet and sad those words were from the boy's mouth. Not even to mention that damned nickname-

-Elodie could barely mumble the words back before pressing end and slamming the phone down again. She fell with it too, knees colliding angrily with the counter top and coming undone on the floorboards - but rising up again, hurrying off to the bathroom where maybe she could cool down.

It never made sense, how upset Elodie got talking to them. Not to her. She loved them and she wanted only to give them that, but almost every conversation that began so happily ended with the rainclouds, and everything getting too hot, and before she knew it -

-she hated getting so angry, maybe at him and maybe at her and a whole lot at herself, cursing herself out for fucking over the only ones she loved. But the bringing up of him...she had no right. She should have just left it be, well maybe not but - she didn't have an answer to her own internal monologue.

Everything was just too hot.

The water began to run in the small tub, but despite how long it always took to fill the tub, Elodie began to undress immediately. She threw her clothes off in a rush and hardly even glanced at her own reflection before sliding herself into the water, no longer willing to wait in order to soothe the heat radiating through and out of her body.

It was not enough, despite how ice cold the tap ran, but it would have to work. She needed it to. 

Elodie leant her head back and sighed, inhaling through her nose as the water moved to cover her torso, then up to her chest. It would be far too cold in a moment or so, but as her body cooled and radiated heat all at once, it was relieving and comforting and she appreciated the seconds of relaxation before shit got real again.

Maybe in the future, she would need a better solution than ice baths - especially in public situations, that could be a bit too risque for her liking, but for the moment it worked. 

She'd work on battling the storm later.

Updated Note - this chapter was a lot of work to redo, but honestly? it's writing i don't hate and i'm proud of, it's far from perfect but it's much better than it was before. i forgot how much i love imagery, mate (but also...past elle really didn't know what that word meant and it showed...).

Thank you for reading; let me know what you thought!