Pieces of the Memories (Drabble Set 12)
Title: Pieces of the Memories
Author: audreyii_fic
Fandom: Twilight (Team Jacob)
Rating: T
Characters: Swan Family, Black Family, Clearwater Family
Genre: Humor/Angst/Friendship
Warnings: Occasional language.
banner courtesy of lilabut
Summary:
Renee leaves Charlie and Bella. AU drabble series.
( beginning)
The Time Sue Clearwater Apologized For Trying To Kill Her Husband (Harry)
Harry doesn't hear the shouting until he opens the front door. This is a good thing. Five Alarm Fights are audible from the street.
"What the hell were you thinking, Leah Clearwater? You're seventeen, not seven! I can't believe I'm even having this conversation with you!"
Harry glances up the stairs; Sue is yelling at Leah's closed door. He goes to the kitchen and pours himself a glass of orange juice. "What happened?"
Seth doesn't look up from his math homework and shows no concern for the noise overhead. "Leah had a fight with Jacob at school and she punched him."
"That's a new one."
"Yep. But she didn't punch him 'til he called her a bitch."
"I see."
"Yeah. I'm glad." Seth taps out a few numbers on his calculator. "I think I was supposed to punch him if she didn't, since he called my sister a bitch and all. And I don't think I can reach that high up."
"Do you know why he did it?"
"'Cause she said stuff to Bella when Mrs. Black died and that's why Bella stayed away. Leah has anger displacement issues. Do you think Bella will come back now? I think she should."
Harry has to bite his lip to keep from smiling. "Anger displacement issues, huh?"
"Mom's got them too. And she got them from Grandma." Seth's tone is very matter-of-fact. "I haven't decided yet if it's nature or nurture. Will you pass me an apple?"
Harry shakes his head as he takes an apple from the counter and tosses it to his son. "Sometimes I wonder where you came from."
"Leah played outside too much."
"How long have they been going at it up there?"
"About ten minutes. She's probably out the window by now."
"Right." Harry sets the empty glass aside.
The maple in the back has turned fiery red in the cool autumn air; the leaves are rustling even though there's no breeze, and they stop moving as Harry walks across the yard. He leans casually against the trunk and starts picking dirt out from under his fingernails. "You have problems, Fuzzy Duck?"
A long moment of silence from inside the tree, broken by a reluctant: "Lots of problems."
"Which one's the biggest?"
No response.
Harry pulls a tiny splinter out of the palm of his hand. "You shouldn't have hit Jacob."
"He would've hit me if I wasn't a girl, and therefore according to the categorical imperative he willed the action to become universal law."
"I can't help but notice these philosophical treatises come in handy when you're trying to excuse your behavior."
"That's why philosophers write them in the first place."
"I suppose that's true."
There's another rustle overhead; Harry doesn't look up. "I did a bad thing, Dad."
"Is that so."
"Uh-huh."
"And what are you going to do about it?"
"There's nothing to do."
"No?"
"It doesn't matter anymore. It's not like it'll make a difference. Once you mess up it doesn't get undone." A thunk like someone kicking a branch. "It was too long ago anyway."
Harry finishes with the nail of his left pinky and starts work on his right thumb. "Leah, did I ever tell you how your mother and I met?"
A long groan from twelve feet up.
"I was three," Harry continues without pausing. "Billy and I were at the playground, and the prettiest girl I'd ever seen slid down the slide. She was wearing overalls and a pink tank top--"
"--and you knew that she was the one," says a bored voice.
"I walked up to her and said, 'My name is Harry Clearwater and I'm going to marry you.'"
"And she pushed you over in the sand."
"Right on my face. Everything I ate was gritty for two days. Have I told you this before?"
"Only six or seven thousand times."
"What about the time she threw a rock at me after I made her a valentine?"
"That too."
"And when she almost drowned me in the river when we were twelve?"
"Yes, Dad."
"Well," Harry says calmly, "did I ever tell you about how she said she was sorry?"
"Look, I-- wait, what? Really?"
"Really. She said she was sorry she pushed me over and threw a rock at me and that she's glad I can hold my breath for as long as I can because it would have sucked if I'd drowned. I'm quoting directly."
"...how come you didn't tell me that part?"
Harry smiles. "Because she said it last month. After three glasses of wine, of course, but it was still nice to hear."
A long, exasperated sigh. "Dad, is there a point to this?"
"No, not really." His fingernails are clean. "It's just that there's no statute of limitations on apologies, Fuzzy Duck. That's all."
Silence.
"Anyway," Harry says, "you need to climb back up before your mother realizes she's been yelling at an empty room for fifteen minutes. Open your door and apologize to her, then spend the rest of the evening thinking about what you're going to do next."
The leaves of the maple shiver for a moment, then still. "Dad?"
"Yeah?"
"Why Mom?"
He looks up. "Excuse me?"
Leah is clinging to a branch high overhead and her brow is furrowed. "You're a Clearwater. You could have married any girl in La Push unless Billy or Quil Senior wanted her first. Mom tried to kill you and then didn't apologize for it for twenty-five years, so why her?"
Harry just shrugs. "She was the one." When he sees his daughter scratching at the bark he adds gently, "All the smart boys like a little bitchiness, Leah. Otherwise life gets boring."
She shrugs too, and the shrug is the same as his.
***
Borrowing (Embry)
If Embry pounds any harder on the garage window he's either going to break the glass or knock himself off the milk crate. "Jake! Dude!"
Thunk. Thunk. Thunk.
"You said you'd loan me your saw!" (The last storm knocked a tree over in the yard and some of the branches too big to move even with Mom helping.) "Open up, you emo douche!"
"Can I help you?" a voice says.
Embry does fall off the milk crate at that, but Mr. Black catches his arm before he hits the ground. "Sorry," Embry says, embarrassed. "I, uh, kinda need the power saw."
Mr. Black glances in the window, which is caked with grime; he doesn't need to stand on anything to see. "This is getting ridiculous," he grumbles before rapping on the side of the building. "Jacob!"
Thunk. Thunk. Thunk.
"At least we know he's in there," Embry deadpans.
Mr. Black tries the door; it's locked. "I suppose he's got the spare key with him."
"Yep."
"This is coming out of his allowance." Mr. Black wedges the head of his cane behind the doorknob and gives a hard pull; the muscles in his shoulders stand out, the frame cracks, and the door swings open.
"Wow," Embry says.
Mr. Black smiles.
The garage isn't meant to be closed up and the air inside is musty. A long frame is stretched out in the old hammock, tossing a tennis ball against the ceiling repetitively; there are headphones over his ears and he doesn't acknowledge their presence.
When it comes to Bella Swan, no one can mope like Jacob Black.
Embry picks up an empty soda can and throws it at Jake, bouncing it off his forehead. "Dude, if that's Evanescence in the Walkman I'm revoking your guy card."
Jacob opens his eyes and scowls as he sits up, though he quails slightly at the look on his father's face. "It's Dio."
"Whatever. Where's the saw?"
"Oh, right. Sorry. It's over there." The bruise on Jake's cheek is fading; yesterday it looked like someone had taken a baseball bat to his face. Leah's strong.
Embry digs out the saw from under a tarp and Jacob flops back on the hammock, and both boys flinch when Mr. Black booms, "Out of the garage, son."
"I'm fine in here, thanks," Jacob mutters. (Embry remembers when they were nine and Jake slept in the garage for almost three months after his mom died. Even though Jake was obviously sad Embry had still been jealous; his bedroom didn't have paint cans or a mini-fridge.)
"I didn't ask your opinion."
"But--"
"Now, Jacob. There's a lot of work to do and it's not going to wait because you're in a funk."
(Even before the epic fight with Leah Jacob had spent two days sitting in the cafeteria pushing cookies from his lunch bag around the table, and when Quil had asked what was up he'd just mumbled something about Charlie Swan being a lousy cook. Embry is pretty sure that unless the Seahawks make the Superbowl Jake won't stop being in a funk any time soon.)
Jake scowls again and throws the tennis ball against the ceiling with renewed force. "I'll be in soon," he says.
Mr. Black's face turns red, and Embry decides it's time to make a getaway. "I'll see you in school," he says quickly, hoisting the power saw. "Thanks for the loan."
The frost is starting to settle in early now; the grass in the yard crunches under Embry's feet. Before he makes it to the road, though, he hears Mr. Black calling his name. "Yeah?"
Mr. Black catches up quickly for someone with a cane, and he's got nylon rope in his hand. Behind him, Jacob is walking back into the house. "Take this too. Just in case you need it. I know that storm took out your oak."
"Oh. Thanks."
"Have you--" Mr. Black pauses, a strange look on his face, then starts again, "--are you able to do this on your own? The tree moving, I mean?"
Embry frowns. "Mom'll help."
"I know. I mean, I'm sure she will. But... I suppose it's hard, being the man of the house?"
"Nah." Embry really doesn't think about it that much. Lots of kids on the reservation only have one parent. Besides, he's seen some of the jerk-offs Quil's mother has dated, so all things considered he's pretty happy that it's just him and Mom. "I do fine."
Mr. Black nods slowly. "Well... if you ever need help, with trees or... questions, or anything else... you can always come to me. I'll be here."
"Okay. Thanks, Mr. Black."
"You can call me Billy."
Embry nods. He shifts the weight of the saw as he takes the rope. "Thanks, Billy."
"Sure, sure."
***
Two Girls
One girl parks a truck in the driveway. The other girl sits on the front steps of the house.
The girl from the truck approached the house hesitantly. "What... what are you doing here?"
"I didn't think you'd really stay away," says the girl on the steps. "I missed you. We all did. I'm sorry."
There is a long moment. The girl on the steps picks at her fingernails.
Then the girl from the truck says, "Do you want to come in and have some lemonade?"
( next)
Author: audreyii_fic
Fandom: Twilight (Team Jacob)
Rating: T
Characters: Swan Family, Black Family, Clearwater Family
Genre: Humor/Angst/Friendship
Warnings: Occasional language.
banner courtesy of lilabut
Summary:
Renee leaves Charlie and Bella. AU drabble series.
( beginning)
The Time Sue Clearwater Apologized For Trying To Kill Her Husband (Harry)
Harry doesn't hear the shouting until he opens the front door. This is a good thing. Five Alarm Fights are audible from the street.
"What the hell were you thinking, Leah Clearwater? You're seventeen, not seven! I can't believe I'm even having this conversation with you!"
Harry glances up the stairs; Sue is yelling at Leah's closed door. He goes to the kitchen and pours himself a glass of orange juice. "What happened?"
Seth doesn't look up from his math homework and shows no concern for the noise overhead. "Leah had a fight with Jacob at school and she punched him."
"That's a new one."
"Yep. But she didn't punch him 'til he called her a bitch."
"I see."
"Yeah. I'm glad." Seth taps out a few numbers on his calculator. "I think I was supposed to punch him if she didn't, since he called my sister a bitch and all. And I don't think I can reach that high up."
"Do you know why he did it?"
"'Cause she said stuff to Bella when Mrs. Black died and that's why Bella stayed away. Leah has anger displacement issues. Do you think Bella will come back now? I think she should."
Harry has to bite his lip to keep from smiling. "Anger displacement issues, huh?"
"Mom's got them too. And she got them from Grandma." Seth's tone is very matter-of-fact. "I haven't decided yet if it's nature or nurture. Will you pass me an apple?"
Harry shakes his head as he takes an apple from the counter and tosses it to his son. "Sometimes I wonder where you came from."
"Leah played outside too much."
"How long have they been going at it up there?"
"About ten minutes. She's probably out the window by now."
"Right." Harry sets the empty glass aside.
The maple in the back has turned fiery red in the cool autumn air; the leaves are rustling even though there's no breeze, and they stop moving as Harry walks across the yard. He leans casually against the trunk and starts picking dirt out from under his fingernails. "You have problems, Fuzzy Duck?"
A long moment of silence from inside the tree, broken by a reluctant: "Lots of problems."
"Which one's the biggest?"
No response.
Harry pulls a tiny splinter out of the palm of his hand. "You shouldn't have hit Jacob."
"He would've hit me if I wasn't a girl, and therefore according to the categorical imperative he willed the action to become universal law."
"I can't help but notice these philosophical treatises come in handy when you're trying to excuse your behavior."
"That's why philosophers write them in the first place."
"I suppose that's true."
There's another rustle overhead; Harry doesn't look up. "I did a bad thing, Dad."
"Is that so."
"Uh-huh."
"And what are you going to do about it?"
"There's nothing to do."
"No?"
"It doesn't matter anymore. It's not like it'll make a difference. Once you mess up it doesn't get undone." A thunk like someone kicking a branch. "It was too long ago anyway."
Harry finishes with the nail of his left pinky and starts work on his right thumb. "Leah, did I ever tell you how your mother and I met?"
A long groan from twelve feet up.
"I was three," Harry continues without pausing. "Billy and I were at the playground, and the prettiest girl I'd ever seen slid down the slide. She was wearing overalls and a pink tank top--"
"--and you knew that she was the one," says a bored voice.
"I walked up to her and said, 'My name is Harry Clearwater and I'm going to marry you.'"
"And she pushed you over in the sand."
"Right on my face. Everything I ate was gritty for two days. Have I told you this before?"
"Only six or seven thousand times."
"What about the time she threw a rock at me after I made her a valentine?"
"That too."
"And when she almost drowned me in the river when we were twelve?"
"Yes, Dad."
"Well," Harry says calmly, "did I ever tell you about how she said she was sorry?"
"Look, I-- wait, what? Really?"
"Really. She said she was sorry she pushed me over and threw a rock at me and that she's glad I can hold my breath for as long as I can because it would have sucked if I'd drowned. I'm quoting directly."
"...how come you didn't tell me that part?"
Harry smiles. "Because she said it last month. After three glasses of wine, of course, but it was still nice to hear."
A long, exasperated sigh. "Dad, is there a point to this?"
"No, not really." His fingernails are clean. "It's just that there's no statute of limitations on apologies, Fuzzy Duck. That's all."
Silence.
"Anyway," Harry says, "you need to climb back up before your mother realizes she's been yelling at an empty room for fifteen minutes. Open your door and apologize to her, then spend the rest of the evening thinking about what you're going to do next."
The leaves of the maple shiver for a moment, then still. "Dad?"
"Yeah?"
"Why Mom?"
He looks up. "Excuse me?"
Leah is clinging to a branch high overhead and her brow is furrowed. "You're a Clearwater. You could have married any girl in La Push unless Billy or Quil Senior wanted her first. Mom tried to kill you and then didn't apologize for it for twenty-five years, so why her?"
Harry just shrugs. "She was the one." When he sees his daughter scratching at the bark he adds gently, "All the smart boys like a little bitchiness, Leah. Otherwise life gets boring."
She shrugs too, and the shrug is the same as his.
***
Borrowing (Embry)
If Embry pounds any harder on the garage window he's either going to break the glass or knock himself off the milk crate. "Jake! Dude!"
Thunk. Thunk. Thunk.
"You said you'd loan me your saw!" (The last storm knocked a tree over in the yard and some of the branches too big to move even with Mom helping.) "Open up, you emo douche!"
"Can I help you?" a voice says.
Embry does fall off the milk crate at that, but Mr. Black catches his arm before he hits the ground. "Sorry," Embry says, embarrassed. "I, uh, kinda need the power saw."
Mr. Black glances in the window, which is caked with grime; he doesn't need to stand on anything to see. "This is getting ridiculous," he grumbles before rapping on the side of the building. "Jacob!"
Thunk. Thunk. Thunk.
"At least we know he's in there," Embry deadpans.
Mr. Black tries the door; it's locked. "I suppose he's got the spare key with him."
"Yep."
"This is coming out of his allowance." Mr. Black wedges the head of his cane behind the doorknob and gives a hard pull; the muscles in his shoulders stand out, the frame cracks, and the door swings open.
"Wow," Embry says.
Mr. Black smiles.
The garage isn't meant to be closed up and the air inside is musty. A long frame is stretched out in the old hammock, tossing a tennis ball against the ceiling repetitively; there are headphones over his ears and he doesn't acknowledge their presence.
When it comes to Bella Swan, no one can mope like Jacob Black.
Embry picks up an empty soda can and throws it at Jake, bouncing it off his forehead. "Dude, if that's Evanescence in the Walkman I'm revoking your guy card."
Jacob opens his eyes and scowls as he sits up, though he quails slightly at the look on his father's face. "It's Dio."
"Whatever. Where's the saw?"
"Oh, right. Sorry. It's over there." The bruise on Jake's cheek is fading; yesterday it looked like someone had taken a baseball bat to his face. Leah's strong.
Embry digs out the saw from under a tarp and Jacob flops back on the hammock, and both boys flinch when Mr. Black booms, "Out of the garage, son."
"I'm fine in here, thanks," Jacob mutters. (Embry remembers when they were nine and Jake slept in the garage for almost three months after his mom died. Even though Jake was obviously sad Embry had still been jealous; his bedroom didn't have paint cans or a mini-fridge.)
"I didn't ask your opinion."
"But--"
"Now, Jacob. There's a lot of work to do and it's not going to wait because you're in a funk."
(Even before the epic fight with Leah Jacob had spent two days sitting in the cafeteria pushing cookies from his lunch bag around the table, and when Quil had asked what was up he'd just mumbled something about Charlie Swan being a lousy cook. Embry is pretty sure that unless the Seahawks make the Superbowl Jake won't stop being in a funk any time soon.)
Jake scowls again and throws the tennis ball against the ceiling with renewed force. "I'll be in soon," he says.
Mr. Black's face turns red, and Embry decides it's time to make a getaway. "I'll see you in school," he says quickly, hoisting the power saw. "Thanks for the loan."
The frost is starting to settle in early now; the grass in the yard crunches under Embry's feet. Before he makes it to the road, though, he hears Mr. Black calling his name. "Yeah?"
Mr. Black catches up quickly for someone with a cane, and he's got nylon rope in his hand. Behind him, Jacob is walking back into the house. "Take this too. Just in case you need it. I know that storm took out your oak."
"Oh. Thanks."
"Have you--" Mr. Black pauses, a strange look on his face, then starts again, "--are you able to do this on your own? The tree moving, I mean?"
Embry frowns. "Mom'll help."
"I know. I mean, I'm sure she will. But... I suppose it's hard, being the man of the house?"
"Nah." Embry really doesn't think about it that much. Lots of kids on the reservation only have one parent. Besides, he's seen some of the jerk-offs Quil's mother has dated, so all things considered he's pretty happy that it's just him and Mom. "I do fine."
Mr. Black nods slowly. "Well... if you ever need help, with trees or... questions, or anything else... you can always come to me. I'll be here."
"Okay. Thanks, Mr. Black."
"You can call me Billy."
Embry nods. He shifts the weight of the saw as he takes the rope. "Thanks, Billy."
"Sure, sure."
***
Two Girls
One girl parks a truck in the driveway. The other girl sits on the front steps of the house.
The girl from the truck approached the house hesitantly. "What... what are you doing here?"
"I didn't think you'd really stay away," says the girl on the steps. "I missed you. We all did. I'm sorry."
There is a long moment. The girl on the steps picks at her fingernails.
Then the girl from the truck says, "Do you want to come in and have some lemonade?"
( next)