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Post by Emma “Emmz” Squalor on Nov 23, 2008 16:06:14 GMT -5
“I got here just as soon as I could,” Nero explained as he held Carmelita close. “You wouldn’t believe the amount of traffic on the road at two in the morning. How are you, Carmy? How is Jerome?” Carmelita opened her mouth to respond, but all that came out was a relieved sob. Emma took this as the opportunity to step forward and clarify, placing her hands on the bars of the twins’ double stroller. Fussy from being woken up and forced to take a road trip so late at night, Kit and Monty had not stopped crying from the time their father had fastened them into their car seats to now. “Mother’s with Jerome now,” Emma explained to her brother-in-law. “She said that Carmelita and I could go back and see him once she’s calmed down.” Nero took one look at his tearful wife, whose face was pressed against his snail tie. Taking no notice of the fact that Carmelita had soaked it completely through in a matter of seconds, the vice principal placed his hands on her shoulders. “It would probably be best,” he said, “if you waited on that, my dear.” Carmelita’s response was a loud sniffle, which prompted Nero to reach into the pocket of his rumpled brown jacket for his handkerchief. He produced it a moment later, and handed it to his wife. “I’m fine,” Carmelita assured her husband, and dabbed at her eyes and nose with the corner of the handkerchief. “I’m just so relieved to see you.” “I want a detailed description of the whole story,” Nero said. “But later, once you’re feeling better.” Carmelita nodded. “I don’t think I’ll be ready to discuss anything until I know for certain that my father is going to be O.K.” Emma, meanwhile, had crouched down in front of the stroller, and reached out both hands to ruffle the twins’ hair. She giggled at the way Nero had apparently attempted to style his son’s hair into four very short pigtails. She knew that if her sister was in any condition to complain, then she would have insisted that Nero fix Monty’s hair before someone mistook him for a girl. “He will be,” Emma assured her sister, and made sure to look Carmelita in the eye as she said it. *** Esmé sneezed, and was amazed that even its sweet, high-pitched sound did nothing to change the expression of utter shock on her husband’s face. “Jerome?” she asked, the ‘m’ on the end of his name almost inaudible in her stuffed-up voice. “You do believe me, don’t you?” Jerome’s arms tightened around Esmé, an action that reassured her, and she felt herself relax ever so slightly. “Of course I do, my precious sweetheart,” he replied. “I’m just in shock.” Esmé began to shiver, and Jerome pulled the jacket up over her shoulders a bit more. She squeaked again, and he kissed the top of her head. “I love you,” she said. “Andrew’s kiss meant nothing. When I felt his lips on mine, all I could think of was you. Even if something did happen, I could never again fall in love with someone else. If I can’t have you, Jerome, then I don’t want to live at all. I’d rather—” Esmé could feel Jerome’s arms tightening around her once more, and she heard him sniffle. When she looked up, she wasn’t surprised to see his eyes shining with the onset of tears. “I’ve told you time and again how much it pains me to hear you talk that way,” he said, his voice breaking as he spoke, and she watched a tear roll down his cheek. “I’m sorry,” Esmé said, and leaned into Jerome’s shoulder, drawing her knees up and feeling them press against his stomach. He hardly noticed, and hugged her even tighter. “No more,” Jerome sobbed softly, seeing no reason to conceal his emotions. “No more talk of ending your life, sweetheart. Ever again. I can’t take it… it’s breaking my heart…” “I’m sorry, darling,” Esmé said, feeling her own eyes cloud over as she reached up to wipe the tears streaking down her husband’s chubby cheeks. Jerome caught one of her hands, and pressed it against his face. “I’m going to confront Andrew,” he said. Esmé knew that Jerome had never hurt anyone, and so she was confident that no harm would come to her brother-in-law as she watched her husband dress quickly. “Do you want me to come with you?” Esmé asked, watching Jerome slide out of the bed and make his way over to the door. Jerome shook his head. “Did Andrew say anything about where he’d be when he left?” “No. But my guess would be that he returned to the waiting area.” “Then that’s probably where he is now,” Jerome said, and stepped through the door. Esmé climbed out of the bed and hurried after him.
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Post by Jenny on Nov 23, 2008 16:46:52 GMT -5
The moment Jerome stepped into the waiting area of the hospital, he was aware that someone smaller than him had thrown themselves into his arms before he'd even known about it, and for once it wasn't his wife.
'Jerome!' Emma cried, and the pretense of bravery she had been using since they had found him unconscious crumbled in an instant. So much for being strong for her sister's sake. Her stepfather smiled softly, and wrapped his arms around her just in time for Carmelita to stumble over and wrap her arms around him as well, sobbin gagain with relief.
'I'm sorry!' Carmelita cried. 'I n-never m-m-meant to hurt you, I only w-wanted t-t-to---'
Jerome laughed at her continued stuttering, and pulled her into a hug to silence her. 'It's alright, Carmy,' he said, patting her on her back lightly to comfort her. 'I'm not hurt. And you only did it because you cared.'
Carmelita said nothing, just sniffed, and her mother stepped forward to kiss her on her forehead. When the younger woman looked up, she could see tears in her adoptive mother's eyes.
'I'm sorry I was so angry with you,' Esmé said, and brushed away a few of her daughter's tears. 'I was too tired, too worried. I wasn't thinking properly. Can you forgive---'
'--Of course I can forgive you!' Carmelita cried, before Esmé had the chance to complete what she was saying, and detatched herself from her father just to attach herself to her mother instead.
Jerome took this as his only opportunity, and after saying a quick hello to Nero, who was looking particularly bewildered, and after taking a look around--and noticing that his mother was asleep on a chair, as were Faust and Colette--he noticed that Fernald Widdershins and his younger brother were seated outside.
Jerome gulped slightly. He hated arguing, and he hated confronting people. He hated having to shout, or accuse, and hadn't done any of those things to his brother since they were just children. But what choice did he have? He couldn't let it go, it was too important. What had Andrew been thinking?
He opened the doors of the hospital, and before trying to ask his brother about what had happened, crossed to Fernald, and held out a hand.
'Thank you,' Jerome said and took the other man's hook in his hand for a shake. 'I hear you were very brave.'
Fernald blushed. 'Not really,' he answered modestly, before Andrew elbowed him.
'He was far braver than everyone else, let's put it that way,' Andrew commented, and Jerome felt a little odd looking at his younger brother knwoing now that he must have harboured some feelings secretly for Esmé and never mentioned them to anyone. It was almost like seeing him in a new light.
'I didn't do anything you wouldn't have,' Fernald said, and Jerome smiled back at him.
'I think Esmé wants to see you,' Jerome lied, but he imagined it was probably the truth regardless. 'And thank you. She's in the waiting room.'
Fernald nodded, and smiled back at the two brothers before disappearing back into the hospital.
'Andrew,' said Jerome, and sat down beside him. His younger brother leaned his head back again, and evidently didn't expect what was coming. 'You were brave too, I heard.'
'No,' Andrew answered. 'I thought I was going to be, and then I just froze up. It was lucky Fernald had more sense.'
Jerome didn't know if that was true or not, but there were more pressing matters to attend to. 'I heard something else, too,' he said softly, and Andrew just stared back at him.
Jerome cleared his throat. 'What did you think you were doing,' he asked quietly, and the younger man just stared back at him blankly.
'What?' Andrew asked, and sat up to look at his brother properly. 'When?'
Jerome felt a little angry all of a sudden. Did Andrew not think he'd done anything wrong? 'When you were kissing my wife, Andrew.'
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Post by Emma “Emmz” Squalor on Nov 23, 2008 19:51:25 GMT -5
“She told you?” he asked, the question tumbling off his tongue before he could consider his words more carefully. Judging by the stern look in his older brother’s identical green eyes, Jerome wasn’t about to let Andrew off easily. “Damn right she told me,” Jerome replied in a voice he hardly recognized as his own. He almost never swore, and only did so when it was absolutely necessary. He considered this to be one of those times, and felt no remorse as he watched Andrew’s face fall. “It was an accident,” the younger Squalor struggled to explain. “It—” Jerome lowered his head, and Andrew followed his move. “How the hell do you expect to justify that sort of action?” Jerome hissed. “You had perfect control over the situation, yet you chose to follow through on something you knew was wrong.” “I couldn’t help it!” Andrew hissed back, his tone bordering on that of arguing. “She looked so sad… so sweet… so in need of love. I only wanted to console her.” “You had no right, Andrew! What you did goes against everything we’ve ever shared. How on Earth can you ever expect me to trust you again after what you’ve done?” “You trusted Esmé,” Andrew reminded Jerome. “After she came back to you— carrying another man’s child, no less —you were more than ready to trust her. And I’m your brother. How do you expect to justify that?”“I suppose I can’t,” Jerome answered. “But you and Esmé are different, Andrew. She’s vulnerable and extremely delicate— like china. Her feelings must be handled with extreme care. And what you did has shattered her trust in you.” Andrew hung his head, and looked down at the gray and blue tiles where his feet were plastered. “I know that now,” he said regretfully. “Do you think she’ll ever forgive me?” “That’s up to her. But don’t expect me to invite you back to the penthouse anytime soon.” Andrew nodded. “I understand.” *** “Jerome said you wanted to see me?” Esmé was sitting in one of the empty chairs, the side of her head resting in the palm of her hand. Emma and Nero were seated behind her, staring up at the silent television, while Carmelita had gone off to find an empty room to feed the twins. The financial advisor smiled, and nodded for Fernald Widdershins to take a seat beside her. She supposed that Jerome must have said something so that he could speak privately with Andrew. “Yes,” Esmé said. “I never—” She paused to take a sharp, inhaling breath before squeaking into her shoulder. She sniffled, and then continued. “I never got a chance to properly thank you for all you did for me and my daughter.” To Esmé’s surprise, the hook-handed man merely shook his head. “Do you honestly think I was going to stand by and let that monster hurt you again?” “Between the two of us,” Esmé said, “it was Emma’s life that was most important. I would have been equally grateful had she been the only one whose life was saved tonight.” “You have a very low opinion of yourself, Esmé,” Fernald couldn’t help pointing out. “It’s strange, considering how strong-willed you were before the fire.” “It was all an act, though. I was simply hiding behind a mask of pain and regret.” “Apparently.” “I love my husband,” Esmé went on, “and my two daughters.” She turned away briefly, and when she looked back, Fernald saw that she was crying. “So why is it so impossible for me to love myself?”
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Post by Jenny on Nov 24, 2008 12:51:03 GMT -5
'You never did, I suppose,' said Fernald, and sighed, drawing an arm around her and leading her away slightly so that neither of her daughter's might see that she was upset. 'You never believed me when I told you how you were too good for Olaf,' he paused. 'Too good for me.'
She just sniffed and laughed, and remembered being told that yes, but never remembered believing it.
'How did you ever forgive yourself, Fernald?' she enquired softly, puzzled. 'How did you ever forgive yourself for the things you did when you were younger?'
Fernald shook his head. 'I didn't,,' he responded. 'I haven't, yet. But most days I forget what happened all those years ago. It's no longer relevant, Esmé. The past is gone.'
She nodded. 'Gone,' she agreed. 'But that doesn't mean forgotten about. There's nothing I can ever do to make up for the fires I set, the people I might have killed, is there? There's nothing I can ever do to change that.'
'But you're sorry,' said Fernald. 'And that's what matters now. You aren't evil, Esmé, no matter what Olaf tricked you into doing.'
She nodded, but she would never believe it herself. It would have been terribly fitting had Olaf managed to kill her before Fernald killed him. A vicious circle. Perfectly fitting, for her, for them. All she'd ever done, it seemed, was run around in endless circles, escaping Olaf and then being dragged back, that she couldn't have thought of a better ending herself.
Not only that, but how could she be expected to think the same way about herself as she did about her family, when only she could see her own true faults, only she could think back on all the terrible, horrible things she'd done? Jerome couldn't see that, could he? He never could, and Carmelita and Emma only saw the best in her, just like she only saw the best in them. And people that didn't know her as well, such as Colette Widdershins, who she had been at loggerheads with until very very recently, found her unbearable.
Maybe that's how she really was. Unbearable.
The only thing that kept her from causing herself serious harm was the thought of how her husband would have reacted. Emma would get over it, Emma could one day get along without her, and so could Carmy now that she had her own family to think of, but to lose his wife would have hurt Jerome so badly he never would have recovered.
Even if she was an awful person, there was no way she could do that to the man who had been so loyal to her.
~
Cora was the first to notice the coldness between her sons after she awoke, and she frowned to herself. It was probably Esmé, wasn't it? She had started to think about her daughter-in-law a little differently now that she knew she hadn't run off with Olaf again, but Esmé still irked her for all the other reasons, even if she couldn't remember right now what they were.
'Andrew,' she said, as her youngest son sat down embarrassedly, and her eldest went to speak to his two adopted daughters.'Andrew, what has your brother said to you? You don't look happy.'
As her son looked to the ceiling, she thought she could see tears sparkling in his light eyes. 'Nothing,' he answered simply. 'And I was the one that caused it, Mother. Not Jerome.'
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Post by Emma “Emmz” Squalor on Nov 24, 2008 16:48:46 GMT -5
“Caused what?” Cora asked. “I don’t understand, Andrew. You’ve got to be more—”
“I kissed her!” Andrew blurted out, and he watched the pale blue eyes of his mother widen. “After avoiding my true feelings for so many years, I finally gave in and did what I both wanted and didn’t want.”
Even though her face was shocked, Cora nodded, as if she understood her youngest son’s reasons. “And what was her reaction?”
“She was upset. Even before I pulled my lips away from hers, she began to cry.”
“Oh, Andrew,” Cora sighed. “How could you have done such a thing?”
“It was never my intention,” Andrew fought to rationalize. “But I won’t lie and say that I don’t harbor feelings for my brother’s wife.”
“Feelings aren’t something you can control. But acting on them is, and what you did was completely inexcusable.”
Andrew heaved a long, desperate sigh, which shook heavily at the end. He slid out of his chair, and began to pace about the empty corridor. “Don’t you think I know that, Mother?” he asked. “Don’t you think that if I could, then I’d take it back? Don’t you think that if it was at all possible, then I’d erase these feelings I have for Esmé from my mind for good?”
“That’s hard to say, Andrew,” Cora replied calmly. “How long have you felt this way about Esmé?”
“Since the day I met her,” Andrew explained. “I thought at first that my attraction to her was inspired by her apathy and icy exterior. When she left, I thought it would give me a chance to forget about her— though it was difficult to do, considering Jerome’s reaction. Then after Esmé returned, and I saw just how much she had changed, I realized that I still loved her. I tried for many years to find a woman who matches what Esmé is, and I must admit that I’ve given up. I realized that if I can’t have her, then I don’t want anyone.”
“You shouldn’t be thinking that way, my son,” Cora pointed out. “It isn’t healthy. No one in this world is exactly alike.”
Andrew laughed, though it came out sounding strained and forced. “You’ll most likely think me a monster for what I’m about to say,” he began, “maybe even a bit pathetic. But I’ve considered on more than one occasion waiting until Emma comes of age, to see if perhaps she’ll take an interest in me. They say that women tend to go for men who remind them of their fathers, right? What if—”
“Andrew Squalor!” the old woman shouted in a surprisingly authoritative voice, and rose quickly from her chair. “What on Earth has gotten into you? First you kiss your brother’s wife, and now you’re talking of courting her daughter?”
Andrew’s face flushed bright red, and before Cora could stop him, he raced through the doors of the hospital and out into the cold, black night.
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Post by Jenny on Nov 25, 2008 16:26:29 GMT -5
Cora sat, shocked, for a moment, staring out into the black night as the figure of her son quickly disappeared. The fact that he had been wearing black and her eyesight wasn't particularly brilliant didn't help her much. She eventually turned to find her older son, and strode over to him (as quickly as her aged legs would carry her).
'Jerome!' she cried, a little too loudly for this time of the night. He winced. 'Jerome, your brother has just stormed out in the middle of the night because of your silly argument!'
Jerome's eyebrows furrowed. 'The last time I saw him, ' Jerome clarified. 'He was sitting with you, Mother.'
'Perhaps' she hissed. 'But, it was your argument that made him run off into the pitch black, to nowhere! He can't get a train now, his car's back at your apartment building, what's he going to do?'
Although it was refreshing to hear her try to defend one of her relatives, Jerome didn't appreciate being blamed. 'Andrew will be alright, Mother,' he replied simply. 'And it's his choice if he wants to leave.'
'You should go and find him!' Cora cried, and it was clear that ahd she been a little younger, she would have ventured out herself.
'I'm sorry,' said Jerome. 'But I've only just come out of a coma. And I've only just been reunited with my family. And it's Andrew that caused the argument, Mother, and so for those reasons, I don't intend to be venturing out into the dark to fetch him.'
Jerome couldn't say he didn't feel guilty for this, but what else could he do? He wasn't about to leave in search of his brother who had upset his wife so much, and he wasn't going to separate himself from his children or his wife voluntarily ever again.
'--Andrew?' said Esmé softly from behind him, and he swiveled to see his darling wife and Fernald Widderhsins looking particularly confused. 'What's happened to Andrew?'
'You happened to Andrew,' Cora replied, half-childishly, and Jerome might have seen the humour in it had the situation not been so dire. 'Once again, Esmé, you are to blame.'
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Post by Emma “Emmz” Squalor on Nov 25, 2008 19:55:32 GMT -5
Esmé could feel the tears just beginning to build in her eyes, when a defensive voice cut sharply through the air.
“I think we’ve all heard just about enough of your accusations, Cora.”
Esmé, Fernald, Emma, and Nero all looked over their shoulders, while Jerome and Cora focused their gazes straight ahead to see Colette Widdershins was treading towards them.
“Esmé has been through enough, don’t you think?” the contortionist asked, and Cora quickly found herself the object of the other woman’s anger. “Why must you insist on making things so difficult for everyone?”
Cora let out a nervous laugh. “Colette,” she said. “I must say that this is certainly a surprise. You’re the last person I would expect to change her tune about the woman you caught kissing your husband just days ago.”
“Perhaps,” the contortionist agreed. “But I’ll gladly be the first person to admit they were wrong.”
“Are you certain of that?”
“Quite.”
Fernald smiled proudly in the direction of his wife, who suddenly looked so strong despite her size.
“It’s unfair to blame someone simply because you don’t like them,” Colette continued. “In fact, I’m beginning to see a pattern between your treatment of Esmé, and the treatment by officers of the people in concentration camps.”
“That’s untrue!” screamed Cora, horrified. “And you, Colette— you’re just as bad as I—” She broke off, realizing that what she had just said only made her look guiltier. “You went out of your way to make Esmé miserable.”
“But I’m sorry for it. Unlike you, who finds it necessary to cause trouble every time things seem to have calmed down.”
“You don’t understand! That woman—” Cora pointed a shaky old finger at her daughter-in-law. “That woman over there found it suitable to kiss my son— and by that I mean the one she isn’t married to!”
“Filth and lies!” Jerome roared. “It was the other way around, Mother, and as angry as I am with Andrew at the moment, I see no reason why he would lie to you about it.”
Now that what had happened between her and her brother-in-law had been exposed, Esmé turned to flee. She could feel every eye in the room— mostly those of her family, though there were a few belonging to strangers —focused sharply on her. She let out a humiliated cry, and dashed off.
“Esmé!” Jerome called. He turned just in time to see his precious little darling race by him, tears streaming down her face.
Jerome was the first to run out of the hospital, followed quickly by Emma, Nero, Fernald, and Colette. Jerome saw Esmé rush out into the parking lot, saw her turn briefly to look at him, but never saw the oncoming car until it was too late.
He watched, horrorstricken, as the front of the car knocked into her side, causing her to slide at least five feet across the pavement. Jerome screamed, followed by Emma and Colette. Nero fought to hold Emma back, while Jerome and Fernald raced out into the parking lot.
Sobbing, Jerome fell to his knees, taking his wife’s hands in his and kissing all ten of her fingers. He was oblivious to the fact that Fernald had run over to the car and was now cursing the driver silly. Though he probably looked a lot more threatening than he sounded, considering his hooks.
“Esmé,” Jerome said, having no idea what he would do if she didn’t open her eyes. “Sweetheart. Darling. My precious little love. Please. Open your eyes…”
His voice seemed to have registered, and a moment later, Esmé’s eyelids fluttered open. “Jerome?” she asked, dazedly. “What—”
Unbelievable relief flowed through Jerome at the realization that she was alive, and he had to keep himself from hugging her in case she was hurt. “You were hit, Esmé,” Jerome explained, tears rolling down his cheeks, “by a car.”
“I was—”
“Let go of me!” Emma shouted, and tore herself free of Nero’s grip on her. “Mother!”
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Post by Jenny on Nov 26, 2008 12:47:42 GMT -5
Before Jerome couls tell Emma not to touch her Mother in case she was hurt, Emma had thrown her arms around her waist and begun to cry. Esmé winced, feeling a little bruised from where the car had run into her, but otherwise just lifted her own arms and wrapped them around her daughter.
'Are you OK?' Emma sobbed, and her tearful blue eyes looked up finally into her Mother's similar ones.
Jerome lay a calm, caring hand on her shoulder, and she turned to face him. 'Emma, sweetheart,' he said gently. 'Your Mother might be hurt.'
'I'm fine,' Esmé insisted, but then sat up and wondered if perhaps she had spoken too soon. Her face obviously portrayed her discomfort, and Jerome looked around. Fernald was involved in a loud and uneccesary argument with the driver of the car, Andrew was gone, his own mother was looking rather too nonchalant, Carmelita was clinging to Nero helplessly, and only Colette and Faust looked even remotely helpful.
'Colette,' he decided. 'Could you fetch a doctor, or someone for me? I'd rather not leave her, not if--'
Colette just nodded, and took her daughter's hand so that they would both disappear into the hospital togather.
'Does it hurt?' Jerome asked, and placed his fingers against his wife's cheek caringly.
'Y---Only a little,' she answered vaguely, and it was obvious to him that she would have said anything not to have to go back into hospital again and to avoid the drama. 'I'll be OK if you just take me home,' she answered. 'Take us home, Jerome.'
He shook his head, though it pained him to deny her anything, and her blue eyes filled with tears afterwards. 'No, sweetheart,' he said. 'I'm sorry. But Dr Leer will see you, and tell you that you're fine, and then we can go home.'
She sighed and turned her face away so that his hand was pressed between her cheek and her shoulder. Before he could assure her that she was going to be alright, and she had nothing to worry about, footsteps could be heard coming close to them.
'What's happened?' Andrew asked softly, alluminated by the glow of the lamps that lined the parking lot, and everyone looked back at him with mixed emotions.
'Where were you?' Cora asked, a hint of concern creeping into her voice even as she tried to keep it neutral.
'I was waiting to see if a bus came by,' he admitted, looking a little sheepish. 'I was only over by the edge of the hospital.'
'Esmé ran out,' Jerome explained, never looking up. 'And got hit by a car.'
Andrew would have thrown himself to his knees and sobbed had he not seen her eyes blinking in the low light, and instead held himself togetehr.
'Are you alright?' he answered, but his brother answered.
'As 'alright' as can be expected,' he answered. 'For just having been hit by a car.'
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Post by Emma “Emmz” Squalor on Nov 26, 2008 15:00:49 GMT -5
It was at that moment when Colette and Faust returned with Dr. Leer, along with two paramedics. Jerome and Emma stood back as the paramedics very carefully hoisted Esmé up onto a stretcher. She whimpered, stretching her hand towards her husband and daughter. “Don’t leave me,” Esmé begged. “Don’t worry, Esmé,” Dr. Leer said gently. “Your husband and daughter may join you in the emergency unit.” “Will someone please tell this freak to—” Leaving Faust with Nero and Carmelita, Colette stormed over to the car where her husband had stood for the last five minutes arguing with the driver. Pushing passed her husband, the contortionist leaned through the open window of the car, glaring furiously into the eyes of the driver. He was a man in his early forties who obviously worked at the hospital, judging by his scrubs. He looked as though he was overworked and overtired, but Colette did not think this a good excuse for having referred to Fernald so rudely. “I’ll have you know, buster,” Colette snarled, oblivious to the fact that she was using a phrase that Esmé Squalor had spoken many times, “that this happens to be my husband you’re talking to. And no one—” “Colette,” Fernald said, lacing one arm around his wife’s waist and pulling her back. “It’s alright. There’s really no need for you to—” Colette ignored him, and instead continued to lash out at the driver of the car. “And who are you to call someone a freak, anyway? What sort of decent human being runs someone over in a hospital parking lot?” “She darted right out in front of me!” the driver cried. “I didn’t even have time to break before that crazy—” Carmelita heard this, and rushed over to the car’s window, shoving by Fernald as Colette had done. “My mother is not crazy!” Carmelita shouted. “She was just upset.” Surprisingly, it was Nero who managed to break up the argument. “Carmy,” he said, putting his hands on her shoulders. “The doctor is about to take your mother inside.” Carmelita nodded, but before she went to join her parents and sister, she stared hard at the driver of the car. “Say anything about my husband’s braids,” she said, “and you can expect a dead fish wrapped in newspaper to turn up on your doorstep first thing tomorrow morning.” The driver scoffed at this. “You don’t even know where I live!” Nero just sighed, and began to lead his wife away from the car, followed by Fernald and Colette. *** Esmé whimpered as the paramedics lifted her off of the stretcher and laid her as gently as possible down on the bed in the emergency unit. Jerome was standing beside his wife, while the others remained on the other side of the room by the door. The only one not present was Cora Squalor, and for this reason everyone was thankful. “This is all my fault,” said Andrew, who had gotten the whole story as to why Esmé had rushed out of the hospital in the first place from his brother. “If I wasn’t so stupid, then Esmé would never have gotten hurt.” “You shouldn’t blame yourself,” Fernald said. “What happened was an accident.” “Besides,” Carmelita added, “what does this have to do with you?”
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Post by Jenny on Nov 26, 2008 16:24:47 GMT -5
Andrew paused, and rubbed his eyes embarrassedly. He took a side glance at Fernald Widdershins, who said nothing. Carmelita's eyes stayed on him, slightly wet from her earlier tears, and her eyebrows slowly lowered, and her eyes became narrower.
'Andrew,' she said after a moment. 'You didn't.' she said nothing after that, and Andrew felt like running out again into the dark and walking and walking as far as he could. 'Did you?'
'Did I what?' he asked, even though he knew full well. Carmelita nodded her head towards Esmé, who's hand appropraitely clutched her husband's while Emma stood at his side, loyal to a fault.
'You know what,' Carmelita answered, and looked briefly up at Nero, who didn't seem to be listening to their conversation, thankfully.
Andrew looked away. 'Well, everybody else knows,' he answered half-angrily. 'So I might as well tell you. I kissed her, Carmy, before Jerome woke--'
'--Are you joking?' she replied, and Andrew flushed with frustration.
'I might as well tell the whole hospital,' he muttered. 'The only people that don't know are Colette and Faust, and even they've probably figured it out by now!'
'Figured what out by---' Fernald asked after a moment, but when both Carmelita and Andrew turned to glare at him he sheepishly turned away. 'Oh,' he murmured quietly, and Carmelita turned back again.
'And then she got upset,' Andrew clarified. 'And I ran off to wait by a bus stop, and then she ran out and got hit by the car, I think. That's all I know.'
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Post by Emma “Emmz” Squalor on Nov 26, 2008 17:59:59 GMT -5
The paramedics left, giving Esmé, her family and friends a chance to be alone until Dr. Leer returned.
“I’m so sorry that I gave everyone such a scare,” Esmé said tearfully, pressing her husband’s hand against her damp cheek.
Carmelita rushed over to her adoptive mother’s side, choosing a spot beside Emma.
“Don’t be sorry, darling,” Jerome told Esmé kindly. “The important thing is you weren’t more seriously injured.”
“When I felt the car strike me,” she continued, looking at her husband as she spoke, “my first thought was that I didn’t want to die. I think too often of ending my life, and for the first time in years I suddenly found myself thinking otherwise. But I don’t want that anymore, Jerome. I want… all I want is to be happy.”
Jerome knelt down next to his wife’s bedside and planted a loving kiss on her nose. “Oh, my dear,” he sighed. “Have you any idea how happy it makes me to finally hear you say that?”
Esmé wished she could sit up and hug him. But her side ached tremendously from where the car had struck her, and her head was throbbing from where she had hit it on the pavement. However, she had enough strength to turn her head over on the pillow and smile reassuringly at her two daughters.
“Carmy,” Esmé said, “Emma. Are you two alright?”
They nodded— though somewhat tearfully —and Esmé stretched out her other arm. Emma and Carmelita clutched their mother’s hand tightly just as Dr. Leer entered the room.
“Esmé,” he said, “I came out front just as soon as I heard what happened.”
“Carmelita,” Esmé said, “why don’t you and Emma go with the others and get some coffee or something? I’ll be alright here.”
“Are you sure, Esmé?” the redhead asked.
“Yes, darling. I’m sure.”
Dr. Leer waited until everyone had left before turning back to the Squalors. “Are you experiencing any pain?” the doctor asked Esmé.
“A little,” she admitted. “In my side as well as my head.”
Dr. Leer reached down, taking the hem of Esmé’s nightgown. “May I?”
Esmé— who was usually so shy about doing anything that would reveal her stomach to anyone but Jerome —nodded her permission, and allowed Dr. Leer to hike her nightgown up to just below her chest.
Jerome had almost forgotten about the photograph sent to him earlier, and gasped at the enormous bruise surrounding his wife’s stomach. The fact that her left side was as black and blue as her stomach only increased his emotions.
“Don’t worry, Jerome,” Esmé assured him. “It isn’t as bad as it looks.”
Both the Squalors were grateful that Dr. Leer appeared to have assumed that the bruise coating Esmé’s stomach had occurred when she had been hit by a car. He didn’t ask any questions, and instead instructed her to sit up slightly in order to have a look at her head.
Considering the amount of pain she was in, it took Esmé a moment to position herself in a way for Dr. Leer to get a good look at her head.
“You’re quite fortunate,” he explained, tenderly feeling around the top area for bumps, “that the stitches didn’t open up. However, it appears you may have a minor concussion. I’d like to take some x-rays, just to make sure it isn’t anything serious.”
Jerome nodded before Esmé could try to argue her way out of it. “Whatever you think is best,” he said.
“Just give me a few minutes to set up the machine,” said Dr. Leer, and left.
Esmé wasn’t surprised when Jerome lowered his head, and with great gentleness planted a kiss on her stomach.
“Do you still think my belly is gorgeous?” Esmé asked, and Jerome could not ignore the uncertainty in her voice.
“Oh, sweetheart,” he said, stroking the spot where her ribcage curved over her bellybutton. “It could never be anything but.”
Just to make sure she knew it, he kissed her stomach once more.
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Post by Jenny on Nov 27, 2008 9:59:12 GMT -5
Her slim, white fingers patted his dark hair as he straightened up again. There was something comfortable about it, even with their daughter's and the entire Widdershins family in the same room.
Just as she had been about to remind him how much she loved him (or perhaps just as he was planning to do the same), Esmé looked up and saw that her husband's eyes were wet with tears, and she grasped his hand tightly.
'Jerome,' she said worriedly, unsure what to do now that he was in tears and she wasn't. This wasn't a situation that occurred often, and she wasn't sure if she knew how to comfort him after all. 'Jerome, what's wrong?' she gave his hand a gentle squeeze, and this only caused more tears to form in his eyes. She forced herself to sit, even if she did experience a white-hot flash of pain in her side, and her vision did blur, and threw her arms around him, dragging him down into a hug.
'What is it?' she asked softly, convinced that now no-one could hear him if he answered.
He sniffed, and kissed her. 'You're so hurt,' he answered shakily, and gently ran his index finger over the bruises on her stomach and her side, so lightly she wasn't even sure she could feel it. 'I feel sorry enough about the car running into you that I.....I can't even.....I can't believe anyone....anyone would do this to you on purpose!'
She felt an unpleasant tug of recognition and of her own upset. She hadn't thought about what Olaf had done to her before Emma arrived for a long time, it seemed, and she suddenly remembered it so vividly. It was a shock to her, and she gave a tiny gasp, and wrapped her arms around her husband tighter.
She didn't know how to reply, and she had nothing to say about what had happened, but she did have something to say about what had happened after that.
'I'm sorry,' she said. 'About that letter Olaf made me write. I didn't write any of it myself, Jerome, I didn't want you to give him anything.'
'I know that, my darling.'
'--And I'm sorry if the photograph upset you, too,' she said, and wiped his tears away, ever so careful with her nails. 'I didn't want him to send it, it was just---'
'---Shh,' Jerome said after a moment, unable to deal with any more. Everything she said made him of of all the things that must have happened to her while they'd been seperated.
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Post by Emma “Emmz” Squalor on Nov 27, 2008 17:48:51 GMT -5
Esmé cuddled closer to her husband, gently stroking a spot on his cheek where a tear had been. “I love you,” she said, and felt Jerome kiss her forehead just as Dr. Leer returned with a pair of nurses. “We’re ready to take you down to x-ray now, Esmé,” Dr. Leer explained. “Your husband may join you, but I’m afraid the rest of your family will have to stay behind.” Emma looked worriedly to Carmelita and Nero, whose own faces shared the young teenager’s concern. Esmé began to cry from the pain it caused her to be lifted up onto a stretcher by the two nurses. Just seeing his precious little wife suffer like this made tears weld up in Jerome’s eyes all over again. He had to turn and run his hand over his eyes to keep her from noticing and possibly becoming even more upset. As Esmé was being wheeled out of the room, she reached out and clasped Emma’s hand in hers. “I love you, sweetheart,” Esmé said. “And don’t worry about me. I’ll be back very soon, and then we can all go home.” Despite her efforts to reassure her daughter, Emma burst into tears, which prompted Esmé to do the same. Nero had to wrap his arms around Emma to keep her from chasing after her parents and the medical staff. Even Faust began to cry, just from seeing the reactions from Esmé and Emma. “Dr. Leer said we’re welcome to sleep in any one of the unoccupied rooms,” Carmelita said, and Colette nodded in agreement. “I think I’ll take Faust to find one now,” the contortionist said. “Come find me when Esmé is finished with her x-ray.” Carmelita nodded. “Emma, why don’t you go along with the Widdershins?” she advised. “I’m sure if you lay down for a bit, then you’ll feel better.” “Sleep?” Emma demanded through tears. “Carmy, how do you expect me to do that when I’ve never felt less like sleeping in my entire life?”“Well, then I guess our only other option is to sit and wait for Jerome and Esmé to come back, and see what Dr. Leer has to say.” “I’m just going to help Colette and Faust find a room,” Fernald said. “But I’ll be back. Would anyone like me to bring them a cup of coffee?” Carmelita and Nero said they would, while Emma requested some hot cocoa, and Andrew chose to remain silent. With a wave of his hook and a smile from Colette, the Widdershins escorted their daughter out of the examination room. *** “As you can see from the small curvature here,” Dr. Leer said, pointing to one of the x-rays he had taken of Esmé’s skull, “it appears you do have a minor concussion. Though thankfully, it isn’t anything too serious. You’ll want to take it easy for at least two weeks, which means no driving and being sure to avoid any strenuous activity. If you continue to experience any headaches after the first few days, make sure to call me immediately.” Jerome turned to his wife, smiling for the first time since their conversation in the examination room. “That means no Mulctuary Money Management,” he said. “So I’ll have no choice but to become your willing slave.” Esmé smiled, thankful that Jerome’s spirits seemed to have lifted slightly. “Well,” she said. “I’ll certainly have no reason to argue with you about that, will I?”
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Post by Jenny on Nov 29, 2008 17:08:20 GMT -5
Jerome grinned, and she smiled back. He had always loved taking care of her at any opportunity he was presented with, from her getting a cold to her pregnancy. It was a shame they had been unfortunate enough to lose their second child, when Jerome had made it clear that one of his favourite parts of the process would be taking care of his beloved wife for the whole duration of her pregnancy. She was glad that he was going to enjoy something that had come out of this whole horrible incident.
'You don't appear to have sustained any major injuries otherwise,' Dr Leer commented. 'It seems that the car hitting you hasn't given you anything but a bruise, which, even if it is painful, will clear up after a week or so.'
Esmé nodded, and Jerome kissed her forehead lovingly. Dr Leer smiled to himself, and continued his study of the x-rays he had taken.
'You know,' he said after a minute. 'I think you're quite lucky, Mrs Squalor. You're going to recover perfectly well, and you've managed not to break any bones. I'd say you've been quite lucky indeed.'
Esmé hadn't considered that. After all, being kidnapped by a psychotic criminal then being run into by a car wasn't exactly what she would have previously considered particularly lucky, but she supposed she had come out of it quite well. Her stitches ached, as did her stomach from the bruises she had sustained, but other than that, she was unharmed.
Thinking about what Olaf could have done to her, and what could have happened if the car had been going faster brought tears to her eyes. She didn't look up at her husband, wary of upsetting him further, but thought of his kind eyes and his chubby cheeks, and then of her daughter's. And then of how foolish it sounded to her that she had ever considered causing herself harm, when she was so lucky to be alive in the first place. And of how lucky she had been that Jerome had ever taken her back and saved her from her life as a criminal. How lucky she had been that someone had been around to help her raise Emma and Carmelita, and that that person had been so kind and wonderful, and that they loved her, her!, even though they were blatantly too good for her. How lucky it was that Olaf had never killed her in one of his tempers, and that she was alive now, and so priviliged.
'I love you,' she said into her husband's shoulder, dragging him down to her level for a hug. 'And I am lucky.'
~
Fernald had helped his wife and their daughter to find an unoccupied room, and had tucked his daughter into one of the uncomfortable hospital beds, while his wife had contorted herself comfortably into a chair.
Faust yawned, but stretched her amrs up to her father all the same.
'Is Mrs Squalor OK?' she asked, and it was clear that she still felt guilty for handing Mrs Squalor over unknowingly to Olaf. Fernald looked down at his little girl's glittering, tearful eyes, and kissed her on the forehead.
'Yes, daring,' he answered. 'Mrs Squalor's just fine. You can see her later if you like.'
Faust bit her lip. 'But--' she cut off, and swallowed. 'But she'll be angry, Daddy, won't she? I made all this happen.'
He simply shook his head, and pulled the blankets up so that they covered Faust all the way up to her chin, so that she'd be nice and warm, just like he did at home (even if his hooks did get caught in the blankets).
'Nobody is angry with you, Faust,' he told her. 'Nobody's angry.'
'Not even Emma?'
'Not even Emma,' he assured, and stood up from where he had been leaning comfortably against the side of the bed. 'Sweet dreams, my darling. Sleep well.'
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Post by Emma “Emmz” Squalor on Nov 29, 2008 20:33:34 GMT -5
Jerome had just finished tucking the thin hospital blanket around his wife. She was still in pain, and she was still sniffly and feverish, but it warmed his heart to see that she was smiling up at him. They were upstairs in an unoccupied room, where Dr. Leer had told them they could rest until they were ready to go home. The room had two beds, one of which Esmé was already laying in. “Would you like me to go over to the closet and see if there are any spare blankets?” Jerome asked, noting the goosebumps on Esmé’s bare arms. She shook her head, and then turned her attention to the spare bed. “No,” she said, and smiled. “But you can push that other bed over here.” Jerome grinned, and then got to work fulfilling his wife’s request. In a few moments, the two beds were one. After kicking off his shoes, he crawled into his, sighing in happiness as Esmé curled her arms around him. He wrapped his own arms around her, smiling to himself as she sneezed into his chest. He could feel her cold nose rubbing against his skin, and he shivered slightly. “Does it hurt you to do that?” Jerome asked after a moment. Esmé sniffed. “A bit,” she admitted. “But I can tolerate it, because I know it makes you happy to hear me sneeze.” Jerome smiled, but it pained him to know that his sweet, darling wife— who had endured so much hardship over the course of just a few days —was experiencing any sort of discomfort. “Is there anything you’d like me to do, darling?” Esmé smiled. “I think you already know the answer to that, Jerome.” Even before she had said it, Jerome’s hand had already begun to travel downwards. Esmé felt it slip beneath the hem of her nightgown, which caused goosebumps to break out over her shoulders. She sighed as his hand rested ever so lightly over the curve of her stomach and began to very slowly massage it. “Mmm…” Esmé purred, blushing as she cuddled closer to her husband. “You’re my sweet little angel,” Jerome said. “But I’m sure you must know that by now.” Had she not felt so safe and strangely happy, then Esmé would have argued that she of all people was no angel. Instead, she kissed her husband’s chest, scratching gently with her long nails up and down his stomach. Having Jerome massage her belly always tended to make her drowsy, like a cat having the back of its neck rubbed. As he continued, she found that it was getting harder and harder to keep her eyes open. “Love you… Jerome,” Esmé murmured. It was then— and only then —that she permitted sleep to take control, confident that when she awoke, she would find herself in the arms of her loving husband. *** Faust wasn’t sure how long she had been sleeping. When she opened her eyes, it was to the sight of the bright sunlight pouring in through the window. Colette was still curled up in her chair, fast asleep. Fernald was on the floor, apparently fast asleep with his hat pulled down over his eyes. “Mommy,” Faust said, “Daddy, wake up. It’s morning.” Fernald made a noise that sounded like a combination of a snore and a grunt. He lifted his head, and nudged Colette’s foot with his elbow. “Wha—” the contortionist asked sleepily, blinking her eyes until they adjusted to the light. “Faust, did you say something?” “I said it’s morning,” Faust repeated. Fernald groaned. “We must have been asleep for hours,” he said. “My neck is so stiff I can hardly lift my head.” “That’s because you weren’t blessed with the ability of being a contortionist,” joked his wife. “My limbs work perfectly fine after being curled up in a chair for so long.” “You know, Colette. I believe that’s the first time I’ve ever heard you refer to your ability in a positive sense.” “Daddy, what time is it?” Faust asked. Fernald pulled back the sleeve of his jacket, and looked at his watch. “It’s half past twelve,” he exclaimed. “My word! We’ve been asleep for over nine hours.” “Do you think the Squalors have left yet?” “I don’t think so. I mean, they were as exhausted as we were— probably even more. And so I see no reason why—” But Faust was already crawling out of bed and heading towards the door. “Where are you going?” Colette asked. Faust paused in the doorway, and turned to look at her parents. “To see Mrs. Squalor,” she said. “There’s something I want to say to her.” “Well, there’s no point in going when you’ve no idea where she is. Your father and I will accompany you, and we’ll find out from someone exactly where they are.” Faust thought that sounded like a good plan, and waited patiently for her mother and father to get themselves ready. *** Even before she opened her eyes, Esmé heard the reassuring sound of Jerome snoring in her ear. He really did sound cute, even if other people’s marriages had broken up because their partner snored. Esmé felt a little better after having slept for a substantial amount of time. She thought that her fever may have also gone down a bit, even if she still felt a little sniffly. Unsurprisingly, Jerome had fallen asleep with his hand resting on his wife’s stomach. Smiling, Esmé reached down and began to circle his hand around her belly until he yawned. She then let go so he could stretch out his arm, and she scooted up a bit to nuzzle his nose with hers. “Good morning, darling,” Esmé said. Jerome smiled, and began to stroke her pale arm with the tips of his fingers. “Good morning to you, my love,” he said. “You fell asleep before I could tell you that I love you.” “So, say it now.” “I love you.” Esmé was just about to kiss Jerome, when she peered over his shoulder and saw little Faust standing in the open doorway. Behind her were her parents, and Esmé seemed to freeze at the sight of the contortionist. “Good morning,” Fernald said. “I hope we’re not intruding, but Faust has something she’s been meaning to say to Esmé.” Esmé looked to Colette, who simply nodded. “Go on, Faust,” said her mother. Faust stepped awkwardly into the room, and rounded to the right side of the bed where Esmé was. Faust lowered her head, too ashamed to look the woman who had nearly died because of Faust’s own foolish mistake in the eyes. “I’m sorry,” she said softly. “I’m sorry for all the trouble I caused you and your family.”
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