tumbataure | 178th page

Well you won't know until you make it. That's kinda the whole point. But I can tell you, if somethin don't sit right with you, that's worth checkin out.

[yes. rip up those rules. throw them away. how did he make it into priesthood. no one will ever know. maybe this religion values smartmouthed little rebels]

Feelin like crap is usually the first sign you're doin somethin you shouldn't.

[ watching his silhouette and trying to understand what he's getting at. how frustrating it must be to be a priest, like trying to teach poetry to fish. ]

What did you feel, Father? When you were about to be married?

[narrows eyes briefly before looking down, knows he didn't mean to turn it on him, but he can't help react defensively.]

Like I was doin the right thing.

[he doesn't really remember, which is weird. how they met or why or where but it doesn't matter much, just that they did it for the kid and, well aaron may not make his heart pound but he's a good guy. usually. he could have done worse.]

Do you? Feel like it's the right thing?

[he'll just redirect that back around because delving into his history is equal parts confusing and headache-inducing at the moment for reasons unknown]

No. No, I don't, not at all. But whenever I try to do the right thing, I always end up ruining--[ exasperated headshaking ]everything?

[ why does he think that. ]

He has someone, I know that he does. And she's very kind, good to him, I'm certain. Who am I to take him away from her?

[ starts to chew on a thumbnail, because it's making his stomach churn that he can't see the priest's face. they've only just met but he trusts this man, bone-deep and deeper. ]

[doesn't question his assertion that he's a ruiner. which is probably one of the shittiest things that could choose to bubble up from the memory bank first but there it is. just takes it at face value.]

Sounds like you already got it worked out. I mean, you know there's a right and a wrong here.

[he's not gonna tell him what to do because it's not his place, but he can catholic guilt trip him six ways from sunday]

It sounds so simple when you say it like that. [ the next is softer, half to himself, but half intended for the priest to hear it. ] Where were you before, when I needed to hear it.

[furrows eyebrows, defensive again. he's never gotten so defensive with someone before. it's his job to sit and listen and offer advice, try to help, be some kind of guide. not take offense to every little thing. shifts in annoyance, throwing a glance at the divider. an automatic response comes to mind, like when you run through an argument in your head after it's already through, but it's too biting and he rewords it slowly, in that way you can tell he's being careful with what he says]

I'm always here if you need to talk.

[ isn't normally so aggressive either, but he feels trapped in this booth, like he can't leave until the priest releases him. double-takes when the response sounds a little wrong, like when an actor goes off script. ]

[ but this sounds so much better than what he'd been expecting it helps him to relax, shoulders sloping instead of winding tight. he leans closer to the lattice, trying to watch the man's eyes to see how sincere he is. ]

But what if it's too late now. What if I can't turn back?

[looks down at his lap when he leans in and smiles nervously, scratching at his forehead. are we still talking about the wedding. this is a very nervewracking confession]

You can uh, you can always turn back. Right up till the edge of that cliff. Sorry, I just, are you sure you've never been in here before because I could swear-

[can't help but veer into the unprofessional but it's bothering the holy hell out of him]

[ lets out a breath so quickly it's like he just swandove into ice water. ]

-That this is chillingly familiar? [ that you, specifically, are familiar. and not in a howdy-neighbor sort of way. ]

[ would gilda laugh at him if he told her he's going to have to ditch on his own wedding because he can't stop staring at the priest scheduled to officiate it? he knows norman wouldn't find it very funny. ]

Yeah. Yeah, somethin like that.

[catches his eyes through the grid and watches him for what's that. oh yeah. another uncomfortably long period of time.]

I'm sorry, I don't usually.

[nope. you are freaking him right out. makes the sign of irish jesus cross and absolves him hurriedly. alanis morissette god loves you, act of contrition, etc. gets up to let himself out]

[ throat feels so dry, the next thing he tries to say just comes out kind of croaky. why is his voice so weird, anyway. did he have a childhood illness or something? did he have a freaking childhood. ]

[ kind of hypnotised into sitting still while their eyes are locked, but as soon as the priest moves he's getting up too. i'll come with you. i'd rather be here. ]

No, I understand, I don't think-- Wait, please.

[awkwardhandsing out of the booth. ]

I'm sorry, I have a lot of work-

[nope nope nopeing ahead of him to his office. closes it between them. beelined. pls stop triggering me. this is weird and uncanny.]

[ comes up short against the door, hands flattening against the surface. just scared the shit out of their priest, and probably should care, but does not. no, sir. ]

[ doesn't call out again, but he does stand there for a while. just stares down at the doorknob, seeing himself opening a latch without using his hands, seeing the priest in a beautiful room that has no doors at all, seeing a wall that's supposed to become a door he isn't supposed to open. ]

[ is this. is this a nervous breakdown. is this what nikolai said would happen if he didn't stop drinking so much coffee. ]

[awkwardly clears his throat.]

Hey. Sergei. [flawless pronunciation.]

Do you know if— Actually, are you okay? You look...

[has never actually seen anyone look "anguished" before, because all appearances to the contrary he doesn't actually live inside a soap opera, but sergei looks textbook anguished. that might even be anguished longing.]

...Stressed.

[...??? who the hell is sergei who the hell are you what are you doing get out of my bubble. ]

[ oh right. husband. the priest is named john remington, and he's married, and this is his husband. ]

Mister Remington...Jones. I'm, I'm sorry I'm-- [ looks between him and the closed door, the absolute absence of sound behind it, and tries to get himself under control. come on, sergei. this kind of behavior isn't going to reflect well on the mayor's assistant, or by extension the mayor, and norman would be disappointed ] --not feeling well.

I might have. Have gotten upset with Father Remington. I wanted to apologize but... [ textbook anguish. ] Please pass on my regrets.

[ flees. ]

[watches sergei's panic attack with the kind of fascination people watch train wrecks with. oh, but then he's leaving. aaron halfheartedly raises a hand to stall him.]

Hold on, Mr. Kalashnikov, don't—

[oh it's too late. he's gone. frowns the way he'd gone, but aaron doesn't know what he'd have said anyway. "don't marry that guy" seems a little abrupt.]

[sweet jesus on a boob cracker.]

[slowly cracks door open with one hand braced on it like he might need to slam it shut again quickly. leans out a little to watch him go and then to aaron with an entirely harassed look]

[i think i just got a stalker i don't know what the hell just happened. sos]

What are you doin here?

[turns back to the now open door and winces at john.]

I— My shift's over. I wanted to—

[takes a breath. tries to organize his thoughts enough to spit out a coherent sentence.]

You know how sometimes you say a word so much it loses all meaning? Well that hasn't happened yet: I'm sorry. I'm still sorry. I think it's pretty clear I have no idea what I'm doing, and I, I don't even actually know why I'm doing what I am doing, but I think it's pretty clear I'm not good at, at...

[more deep breathing.]

I don't know what I'm doing but I want Heather to be okay. I want her to be more than okay, I want her to be perfect, because she deserves that, and I want to be a part of her life and I want you to be happy too but I think maybe we'd be better off not married.

[slightly panicked staring. that last part got away from him. what he gets for talking to the other john for five hours.]

This would be easier if you quit looking like you were about to slam the door, by the way.

[stares at him during his whole. speech. did you practice that? you practiced that. looks around paranoid before yanking him into the office by the front of his shirt before he makes more of a scene]

You wanna divorce. From our fake marriage. Really?

[turns to him after closing the door. is that what he got out of that]

[did that really sound practiced to you]

Is that all you got out of that?

[because the operative word was supposed to be "sorry," not "divorce." although that word was also important.]

Don't you? And that's a serious question, I mean, you don't seem all that thrilled with it either, and for crying out loud, Jack, we're being audited by the government, and we're— I know we work as friends, but everyone and their dog seems to know we don't work as a married couple, any more than, than that poor kid and the Walsh boy do.

[stops. thinks about that. makes a face.]

All right, no, we work way better than they're going to, but the fact remains that all of this pretending isn't really working for us, and it's not really working for Heather either.

John.

[no wonder we can't fake it until we make it you can't even get my name right. who the hell is jack. crosses arms and looks at him uncomfortably. i don't like real breakups but fake ones suck too]

What'dyou think's gonna happen to Heather if we break it off?

[isn't that the whole reason they did this in the first place]

That's what I said.

[isn't it? he thought that was what he'd said. stares uncomfortably back at john for another few seconds then drops into a chair and stares at the desk instead.]

I don't know. She's, she.

[has a momentary breakdown running through disaster scenarios. what if she gets adopted by the joys. oh god no that can't happen.]

I don't know. Every time I think I've got a handle on, on anything, it just flies apart, I just. All I know is I have to keep Heather safe, but I don't know how to do that without— I mean you're really okay with this?

What? You're like a roommate except we get paid to live together. What's not awesome about that?

[man he came to terms with their arrangement a long time ago, who knew aaron was still kicking around issues about it. must be the baker thing. hey, deal with it.]

Besides, you're a good dad. Why screw up her life just because we have to pretend to be a couple once a month?

[unfolds his arms and shrugs, scratching behind an ear idly. if he was pissed last night, he seems to have mostly forgotten about it. i mean he hasn't, because he holds grudges like a son of a bitch, but with the trigger thing and everything else in between he kind of has to prioritize]

Look, I was pissed. You screwed the pooch once, it ain't gonna happen again, so just come home. You can play footsie with white bread all you want as long as you keep it under wraps, it's seriously none of my business.

[laces his hands behind his neck, looks up at the ceiling. john is right. aaron knows john is right. it's not even that The Arrangement feels that wrong, what feels wrong is more the farce that aaron keeps turning it into every time he sees craig.]

That's kind of it, I don't even—

[internal parse error. because the idea of infidelity is so alien to him except that it isn't because he's being so constantly unfaithful. it's. he doesn't even know who he is anymore.]

I— No, we're. We're done. I'm not. He and I are done.

[just as soon as i tell him.]

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⇒ ⇒ this definitely counts for two.

⇒ we'll just keep dean at 1 we don't want to get ahead of ourselves.

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