Mystery Lake

[35] Love

Helping the old lady prepare the meal was a comforting task and position for Roxy, with no complications or need for reflection.

Aside from some initial, minor clarifications, there were few questions to be asked and scant words to be spoken. That didn't stop the old lady from asking them quietly and happily. In any scenario that made sense, Roxy had accrued a sizable debt from the old lady's kindness and attentive cheer. And every instance she attempted to seize, lower, or settle that debt just led to greater struggles. At the same time, Roxy knew innately that caring for someone and making sure they felt good was not something you needed to pay for, even if the payment was intangibly priced.

The Griffins. Oh, the Griffins. To all outward appearances, the Griffins were a perfectly happy group of people masquerading as a family.

Mom, nothing like Maggie mom. Her mom, Joel's mom. A slim, slender figure who only strutted and pranced when necessary. Joel was her tool to be keenly wielded. Just take care of this for a moment. The simplest words about the most stressful tasks. No matter how he threw himself into the necessary demands of family or how easy those items seemed from a distance, they still wore him down, as if designed with radioactive agents, eroding metronomes, and soul-sucking specifics. Every attempt to sleep under his family's roof felt like the sustained application of water torture without actual water.

They required things; they didn't ask for things. Affection was transactional—the love economy. The notion of genuine, unconditional love first appeared to Joel as a rumor in a class and a curious commitment from his older brother. He provided comfort. Joel expected to owe him and work off that debt. The assurance that nothing was required or implied in return was like a foreign language to Joel. Not to say that you paid for life; nothing overt like that. But for young Joel, affection was a credit system.

You spent time with someone, you put in the work, you did the things they needed, you listened where required, you expressed devotion, you contributed a portion of your life and credit, and in return, you received the requisite love you asked for. Break that contract, and nothing is guaranteed. It took Roxy a long time to realize how fucked up this supposedly family relationship was.

His father wasn't much better. He was a low, sniveling man who plaintively shrieked at the most minor issue. For all the speech classes he attended and all the gestures he made, he was quick to resort to the simplest wedges of words. Do it now! Why aren't you listening? I'm so angry! Why don't you care? You don't do anything!

His voice didn't have much of a lingering effect on Joel's consciousness. The booming voice was Mom, the bad Mom. Don't be a baby. What are you whimpering and weeping for? It won't change anything. Just go do what I tell you. Get rid of that. Stop it. Don't pretend to be such a weak, useless idiot. Get up, get to it, and do it now. You're a man. You oughta act like a man. Men don't cry. They're better than that. You don't need to sniffle and whine.

That's not what you deserve. You deserve to be strong, better than you think, and true to who you are. You are a man, you worthless piece of shit; don't you dare give in to sniffling. You have to be tough, you have to be strong, you have to be bold, you have to protect, and you have to be the best example to anyone, to everyone, to the world, and to all. You have to take care of everything for us and whoever needs it. Just don't get walked over.

A confusing twist entangled. Joel was so simple but wrapped in this nest of uncertainty. Everyone said the former. What a simple, idle goofball! Not a worry in his head. Nothing but jokes; nothing but the simplest notions and emotions. Does he even think about anything at all? That's what they thought, so why disappoint them? Keep it simple.

Oh Joel, you're such a simple heart; you're such a simple fart; you dumb dumb. That's all there is to it.

Roxy had to take a break after mixing to wash up, but mostly to hide the trembling of her hands. Love is a debt you can never repay, but you must contribute every cent. She had you; she had her youngest boy. She had the final version of exactly what she wanted—whatever that was. And now Roxy was the opposite—an antithesis, lean on the better girly smart words. Girl is smart, and boy is a dumb. That's how it goes.

How much love did Joel ultimately get credited for? He worked hard. He burned through what they needed. He got paid. He earned it. Devotion and dedication. Charm and shackles... chuckles. Bitterly, literally exhausting. Just the simple life. No no no don't start crying again; you stuffed it down so well.

Mom was a force. Mother was the enforcer, the wall, and the unattainable. You are not as good as that brother, not as good as this brother, and not as much of a man. Fight harder, push harder, and keep at it.

Hugs came when she decided they were to be doled out. The few quiet times she allowed him admittance into the Kingdom of Mom made no sense. He didn't do anything; he didn't achieve anything special, and yet he was rewarded. An irrational reward.

Joel knew there was a toxic mass of psychology woven into his consciousness. A mess. Jess had one just like it. She recognized so much in him. She saw when he didn't declare and shout love and achievement but simply slipped it in as a quiet code, a whisper of kindness. Was that healthy or broken? As long as she was happy, as long as it wasn't like at home. Loud, grubby, and painful.

Did Joel's parents ever really care about him? It was an open question, without judgment or requirement, that he give a firm reply or any reply at all. It was a question he wanted, and she gently answered it. Don't lie to your reflection. Don't tell yourself that things are one way when they never were. Be honest with your questions and, especially, with your answers. The only one you're deceiving is yourself. She took so long to finish in the bathroom. The shivers eventually went away.

Unfortunately, a rough and increasingly achy spot in her throat felt like the kindling leading to a full illness. For the last couple of years, that seemed like a bigger deal than it should've been. Trucker fucker better not have released his fairy bug on her. Neither of their hosts seemed sick, though maybe she got too close to the crazed beast. Or maybe Ross spirit vomit had a faster health effect than contagious craps. Not likely. It could've been anyone or anything at the truck stop or before. She just hoped that no one else got sick from what she was feeling or whatever she encountered.

Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

Now her fairy companion decided to make herself known. Not any time before when she could've offered up more. She wrapped her arms around Roxy without want or need. Some random fairy spirit made of not water genuinely cared about her more than the woman who birthed her and wanted her to have enough stamps on her devotion card to fill out the proper rewards, while Screamy McSnivel demanded everything. Home life. Such a fucked-up home life.

Except for her brothers. How did the rest of them walk away so well-adjusted? Maybe they weren't, and she was just tinting the side of her family that mattered, but they kept her sane. And her brother deserved an answer.

She squeezed her phone close once her hands were dry, and after she explained to the old woman, that she would be back in a moment. Several hours since surviving and screaming inside.

Hey bro.

Yeah. Simple.

I'm all right well. As all right as I can be. I'm upstate with some friends and other people. We're all right. It's been a busy and complicated day. We visited a lake. Something of a life-changing experience, bro. You know. The usual. Food at a local diner could've been better. Jess made things better, as she always does. Always looking out for me. She's taking care of me. No worries. Taking it easy in a small town not too far from the border, although there are still all sorts of crazies.

Thank you, man. I was recently reflecting on how much our parents fucked us up. I know we've about it—their systems, their games, their demands, and so much other crap. But I want to thank you for being my truest role model and aspiration for my entire life. I'm all right, but I just want you to know that. You took care of me. You took care of all of us. You deserve every mom and dad award you never got. I'm going to have a fantastic break, and I hope you have a great evening. There are some things I need to talk to you about later, but it's not a big deal. Just life shit. Still fine; still just figuring stuff out. Talk to you soon, bro.

Not even a drop of emoji to color it or plop it all into a goofy package. He'd probably worry about that, but not enough to wanna make physical video contact. Roxy could've amended or elaborated on any of that, but she left it alone.

You have a little sister, bro. I know you always like to share free smiles. I hope you have a smile about that. She wasn't going to say that, but thinking it was progress.

Chiara picked up where she had to leave, although Roxy took care of the little things, along with tidying up and whatever else the old lady asked for, without condition or cost. Why couldn't more families be like the Triton one? Heck, Barry had a better family situation, along with Miranda.

They all chatted for a while, with Ross returning from the basement after his wandering reflection. Roxy didn't draw attention to herself, but she invited him to enjoy dinner when it was ready. No scolding or sneers. It would've been easy to compare aspects of her parents to Ross or Alyssa, but neither of them deserved it. Not even close.

Wistfully aloof for a long while, Roxy got to wandering back down those busy, beautiful steps to the quiet, hidden doorway. Eugene had snuck by and out of the store, actually leaving it unattended, which alarmed Roxy. Not a big deal, but after the monster strike, what a disappointment to maybe wind up with trouble because some opportunistic asshole decided to snag something valuable. She kept guard in the area and scrutinized the steps.

Wandering between the roughly arranged aisles and avoiding their remaining blockades didn't reveal some special trinket she immediately needed, nor did she discover some unseen antique to give her answers or newfound questions. The place was so sharply, desperately normal, and that wasn't a bad thing. Classic comfort with a sprinkle of the strange. All they needed to do was sell some comfy mini beds, rare bean chairs, and oodles of the best blankets. Complete the sleep, just a little bit more.

From the edge of her ear, Roxy heard a steady, repeated rattling that could've been someone banging a kettle drum down the street, a roughly rumbling truck, or insistent knocking on the door. The last one probably seemed the most likely. Was she supposed to answer? Surely, a place like this would have alternative communication... But then the owner was able to fall into a deep sleep, such that summoning his mother was the best way to get through. She would take a peek, at the very least.

Stepping slanted and sideways down the steps was more comfortable than taking them with her tired toes. The cramped bottom didn't hint at someone on the other side of the door, so she called out and asked who it was, passing on the basic authority of...maybe someone who answered the mail for the business. No answer, not even the faintest suggestion of one.

Cautiously, she unlatched the door and cracked it open to examine what awaited her on the outside this time. Nothing. Practically nothing at least; a few darkening slivers of walkers wandered away from the shop, and there was no suggestion that anyone had been nearby or what they wanted out of her. She pressed further outside to inspect the sidewalk merging with the road.

Before she could retreat, a subdued but sharp voice called out, "Over here, please."

Standing to the right under the newly shimmering light of a streetlamp was the man in black she'd already encountered twice before… Agent Cerberus. He wore the same suit as previously, with his black shades securely pressed around his eyes.

Roxy straightened and pulled her hands back without taking a step away. From next to her, she heard a second voice. No matter what she expected to hear, she was perplexed by a gentle, dulcet, soft, high-pitched tone squeaking through the subtle sounds of the evening.

"Excuse me, umm, ma'am..."

Turning to see who the voice belonged to, Roxy was startled by the looming, mountainous presence of Agent Rydia overwhelming her sight, again dressed the same as before but with her glasses tilted up and twinkling dark eyes calmly peering in her direction. Rydia spoke again in that same, high-pitched, meek little girl voice.

"My apologies, but could we have just a moment of your time to ask a few questions, please?"