[Fic] Healing Six - White Noise
Healing
Sydney Alexis
Six - White Noise
[Age: 11/16]
[Eleven]
Melanie was waiting right in front of the school at four o'clock sharp. Gus made it a point to be the first child out hoping his mother wouldn't make a scene.
Not bothering to look or speak to him, Melanie navigated her SUV through Toronto's streets before stopping in front of a nondescript office building.
"I'll be back to pick you up after your appointment," she said tersely.
Gus nodded grimly. It turned out there 'little side trip' was to one Dr. Reginald Winston Walters, III, child psychologist extraordinaire.
Dr. Walters office was too bright, too colorful, and uncomfortable as hell. The only chairs he had to offer were fuchsia colored beanbags that looked like rejects from the seventies. The walls were painted in primary colors and the carpet was bright white. The entire place was overwhelming.
Not that Gus told Dr. Walters any of this. No, Gus protested passively; he obediently sat on the beanbag chair, stared at the bookcases full of toys, and actively ignored every question volleyed at him, which started with…
"So, Gus, your moms tell me you have problems with your anger."
Gus wanted to laugh out loud. No, he didn't have problems with his anger. Who would have anger issues when their bratty little sister got away with destroying your shit because she had a fucking label to her behavior problems.
"They tell me that you acted out against her," Dr. Walters tried again.
Funny how the truth got twisted. He let go of her wrist; gravity did the rest.
"Your school's cumulative folder states that you're no longer actively participating in class. That you spend most of lunch and recess alone, reading."
And it also says that he was maintaining his work despite all this, but, of course, shrinks like to focus on the negative.
"Your file also suggests that your kindergarten teacher back in Pittsburgh never encountered these types of problems with you. It says you were a happy, active child that enjoyed helping out wherever you could."
And that, ladies and gentlemen, is why his Mommies expected him to clean up after his stupid sister. She's not even his fucking sister. They weren't related.
"Everything seems to indicate you were fine until you moved up here," Dr. Walters ventured.
Gus shot the doctor a hard stare before returning his gaze to the clock on said wall, watching the second hand tick across it's surface.
"By your reaction, I'm guessing that your move here is partially at fault. It says here that your father still resides in Pittsburgh as well as several close family friends." A beat. "Moving can be difficult. Especially when moving long distances from people that mean so much to you."
Gus swallowed hard and watched the clock. Tick, tick, tick…
"Your mother mentioned that you spent the summer with your father…"
More digging. Gus read a book about paleontologists--men and women who spent hours sifting through sand and dirt to find one stupid little bone. Gus idly wondered if that's how Walters felt every day, sitting in his too bright, too ugly office listening to children whine about their lives. It seemed like a colossal waste of time.
Then again, Gus had seen Internet sites about salaries. Seems Dr. Walters was pretty well compensated for all those hours lost looking for bones.
"…it says here that you seemed to have enjoyed yourself. Never gave your father any problems."
No, and he hadn't given his mothers any grief for months. It was JR's job to cause all the drama--temper tantrums and tirades, stomping feet and slapping hands. She'd work herself up into a frenzy until she was covered in tears and leaking snot bubbles. They always caved to her whims. Well, Lesbi-moms, welcome to the present and your future because Super Nannies don't come swooping in to deal with your shitty parenting skills. You've managed to form one brat and one angry, resentful, put-upon kid.
"Do you know that your mothers love you very much, Gus? They wouldn't have brought you here if they didn't."
The funny thing is that Gus did understand the concept. It was a lesson they'd taught him--it's possible to love someone that you hate so completely. At first, he'd only felt it for JR, but, now, he felt it for all three of them.
"It also says that here that you begged your father to stay with him the night before you returned home."
Gus' eyes shot back towards Dr. Walters.
"Why didn't you want to return home, Gus?" A beat. "Are you going to say anything?"
Gus looked at the clock and saw there was less than a minute left. He stood and began slipping on his coat, scarf, and gloves before slinging his messenger bag over his shoulder. Hand grasping the doorknob, he turned to look at Dr. Walters one last time.
"Your office looks like a circus accident."
Every Tuesday and Thursday after that, Gus would spend an hour under Walters’ Big Top and the rest of the week, he'd be at the library reading his way through the children and young adult section.
Therapy, in Gus' opinion, was a waste of time. The only things he would comment on were stuff he'd read that week. It was during his seventh or eighth session that Dr. Walters actually called him on it.
"You seem to be pretty well read for someone your age."
"Yeah, well, the library is free. Might as well use it."
"So you spend a lot of time there?"
"Where the fuck else am I going to go? It's warm there. It's quiet. And, the faster I learn all the shit I need to, the faster I can graduate and move the fuck out of here."
"And where do you intend to go?"
Gus shrugged and looked down at the scarf he'd been playing with. He hadn't meant to say anything.
After a long, drawn out silence, Dr. Walters responded.
"You mean you want to go back to Pittsburgh to be with your father."
Gus didn't respond. After that, he went back to staring at the back wall. After four weeks, his moms stopped making him go.
[Sixteen]
Gus liked his dads' place because it was quiet there. Hours could pass with just the ticking of Brian's keyboard as he worked on a campaign and the swish-squish sound as Justin painted. Gus could curl up on the sofa and read or take a nap or draw or build computer programs on his laptop and all of it without Justin Timberlake or the Lesbi-moms screeching through his head at a million beats a minute.
At the same time, he knew he could stop either of his dads and just talk to them. They'd put everything aside for a couple of hours and listen. And yeah, Gus wasn't so stupid that he didn't realize he fucking hated his mothers for ignoring him unless he screwed up. It always seemed like they were racing to their jobs or functions for said jobs.
Borderline debt seemed like it was something neither of his moms considered when they moved to Canada without a working permit, a home, or any locked-in employment opportunities. They also failed to realize that taxes were a lot higher than in the Pitts.
So, the four of them crammed into a fucking cracker jack sized house. Lindsay took a job as a personal assistant in a temp agency and Mel commuted to some border town and took a job in a legal firm making a little more than half her previous salary. Money was tight in that 'let's clip coupons and only go on double coupon days' kind of way. Even the supplemental income that Brian and Michael sent didn't exactly go to the kids; it was spent on 'luxuries' like utility bills and mortgage payments.
Needless to say, two frazzled, sleep deprived parents on a fixed income wasn't a fabulous combination. Who knew June and Ward could have some fucking all out scream fests? Not like this was news to him; they seemed to like to fight at least twice a month--usually around the time the bills came in.
When he was a kid and his moms were fighting, Gus would hide in the closet under a blanket, little fingers gripping onto his Daddy Bear. He'd use his Superman flashlight to read through the latest children's book his Momma had checked out of the library for him. Lips moving to the text, he tried not to listen to their angry words because, the last time they yelled that much at each other, he and his Mom moved out.
When he got older, Gus begged for an iPod, never telling his father he used it to mask the sounds of his mommies arguing. It wasn't like they were the poster family for domestic disturbance, it's just that the shit got old. Every time Gus screwed up, great Mother Melanie of Patience would swoop down and scream at Lindsay how Brian was a fucked up choice for a sperm donor. She'd proclaim over and over again that his jizz was swimming with god only knew how many illegal substances and that they had, in turn, caused Gus to become the fuck up that he was.
Yeah. Gus knew Mel loved him and understood that she kind of, sort of tolerated and respected Brian. He even knew that she was saying all that shit just to make Lindsay hurt, but knowing it and offering up acceptance and forgiveness were two separate things.
They also always seemed to forget that the sound of their screaming carried.
And, yeah, maybe that's why JR played her shitty-ass boy bands so loud.
Raising a tentative hand to his cheek, Gus fingered the red and swollen skin caused from the ring on Melanie's hand. The metal had bit into his flesh when she'd slapped him two nights ago leaving an indentation in the skin.
Maybe he'd deserved it. Maybe he hadn't, but it had fucking hurt. Not the actual action itself, but the anger behind it. Proof that there was a part of her that hated him. Not that he needed it. He knew it was there all along in the way that she never quite met his eyes. Then again, he'd taken after his father in one department; he told people exactly what he thought of them, and, if they didn't like it, they could blow him.
Gus closed his eyes and let her angry words wash over him over and over again until all that was left was white noise.
Seven - Home
Many thanks to shadownyc for betaing.
Sydney Alexis
Six - White Noise
[Age: 11/16]
[Eleven]
Melanie was waiting right in front of the school at four o'clock sharp. Gus made it a point to be the first child out hoping his mother wouldn't make a scene.
Not bothering to look or speak to him, Melanie navigated her SUV through Toronto's streets before stopping in front of a nondescript office building.
"I'll be back to pick you up after your appointment," she said tersely.
Gus nodded grimly. It turned out there 'little side trip' was to one Dr. Reginald Winston Walters, III, child psychologist extraordinaire.
Dr. Walters office was too bright, too colorful, and uncomfortable as hell. The only chairs he had to offer were fuchsia colored beanbags that looked like rejects from the seventies. The walls were painted in primary colors and the carpet was bright white. The entire place was overwhelming.
Not that Gus told Dr. Walters any of this. No, Gus protested passively; he obediently sat on the beanbag chair, stared at the bookcases full of toys, and actively ignored every question volleyed at him, which started with…
"So, Gus, your moms tell me you have problems with your anger."
Gus wanted to laugh out loud. No, he didn't have problems with his anger. Who would have anger issues when their bratty little sister got away with destroying your shit because she had a fucking label to her behavior problems.
"They tell me that you acted out against her," Dr. Walters tried again.
Funny how the truth got twisted. He let go of her wrist; gravity did the rest.
"Your school's cumulative folder states that you're no longer actively participating in class. That you spend most of lunch and recess alone, reading."
And it also says that he was maintaining his work despite all this, but, of course, shrinks like to focus on the negative.
"Your file also suggests that your kindergarten teacher back in Pittsburgh never encountered these types of problems with you. It says you were a happy, active child that enjoyed helping out wherever you could."
And that, ladies and gentlemen, is why his Mommies expected him to clean up after his stupid sister. She's not even his fucking sister. They weren't related.
"Everything seems to indicate you were fine until you moved up here," Dr. Walters ventured.
Gus shot the doctor a hard stare before returning his gaze to the clock on said wall, watching the second hand tick across it's surface.
"By your reaction, I'm guessing that your move here is partially at fault. It says here that your father still resides in Pittsburgh as well as several close family friends." A beat. "Moving can be difficult. Especially when moving long distances from people that mean so much to you."
Gus swallowed hard and watched the clock. Tick, tick, tick…
"Your mother mentioned that you spent the summer with your father…"
More digging. Gus read a book about paleontologists--men and women who spent hours sifting through sand and dirt to find one stupid little bone. Gus idly wondered if that's how Walters felt every day, sitting in his too bright, too ugly office listening to children whine about their lives. It seemed like a colossal waste of time.
Then again, Gus had seen Internet sites about salaries. Seems Dr. Walters was pretty well compensated for all those hours lost looking for bones.
"…it says here that you seemed to have enjoyed yourself. Never gave your father any problems."
No, and he hadn't given his mothers any grief for months. It was JR's job to cause all the drama--temper tantrums and tirades, stomping feet and slapping hands. She'd work herself up into a frenzy until she was covered in tears and leaking snot bubbles. They always caved to her whims. Well, Lesbi-moms, welcome to the present and your future because Super Nannies don't come swooping in to deal with your shitty parenting skills. You've managed to form one brat and one angry, resentful, put-upon kid.
"Do you know that your mothers love you very much, Gus? They wouldn't have brought you here if they didn't."
The funny thing is that Gus did understand the concept. It was a lesson they'd taught him--it's possible to love someone that you hate so completely. At first, he'd only felt it for JR, but, now, he felt it for all three of them.
"It also says that here that you begged your father to stay with him the night before you returned home."
Gus' eyes shot back towards Dr. Walters.
"Why didn't you want to return home, Gus?" A beat. "Are you going to say anything?"
Gus looked at the clock and saw there was less than a minute left. He stood and began slipping on his coat, scarf, and gloves before slinging his messenger bag over his shoulder. Hand grasping the doorknob, he turned to look at Dr. Walters one last time.
"Your office looks like a circus accident."
Every Tuesday and Thursday after that, Gus would spend an hour under Walters’ Big Top and the rest of the week, he'd be at the library reading his way through the children and young adult section.
Therapy, in Gus' opinion, was a waste of time. The only things he would comment on were stuff he'd read that week. It was during his seventh or eighth session that Dr. Walters actually called him on it.
"You seem to be pretty well read for someone your age."
"Yeah, well, the library is free. Might as well use it."
"So you spend a lot of time there?"
"Where the fuck else am I going to go? It's warm there. It's quiet. And, the faster I learn all the shit I need to, the faster I can graduate and move the fuck out of here."
"And where do you intend to go?"
Gus shrugged and looked down at the scarf he'd been playing with. He hadn't meant to say anything.
After a long, drawn out silence, Dr. Walters responded.
"You mean you want to go back to Pittsburgh to be with your father."
Gus didn't respond. After that, he went back to staring at the back wall. After four weeks, his moms stopped making him go.
[Sixteen]
Gus liked his dads' place because it was quiet there. Hours could pass with just the ticking of Brian's keyboard as he worked on a campaign and the swish-squish sound as Justin painted. Gus could curl up on the sofa and read or take a nap or draw or build computer programs on his laptop and all of it without Justin Timberlake or the Lesbi-moms screeching through his head at a million beats a minute.
At the same time, he knew he could stop either of his dads and just talk to them. They'd put everything aside for a couple of hours and listen. And yeah, Gus wasn't so stupid that he didn't realize he fucking hated his mothers for ignoring him unless he screwed up. It always seemed like they were racing to their jobs or functions for said jobs.
Borderline debt seemed like it was something neither of his moms considered when they moved to Canada without a working permit, a home, or any locked-in employment opportunities. They also failed to realize that taxes were a lot higher than in the Pitts.
So, the four of them crammed into a fucking cracker jack sized house. Lindsay took a job as a personal assistant in a temp agency and Mel commuted to some border town and took a job in a legal firm making a little more than half her previous salary. Money was tight in that 'let's clip coupons and only go on double coupon days' kind of way. Even the supplemental income that Brian and Michael sent didn't exactly go to the kids; it was spent on 'luxuries' like utility bills and mortgage payments.
Needless to say, two frazzled, sleep deprived parents on a fixed income wasn't a fabulous combination. Who knew June and Ward could have some fucking all out scream fests? Not like this was news to him; they seemed to like to fight at least twice a month--usually around the time the bills came in.
When he was a kid and his moms were fighting, Gus would hide in the closet under a blanket, little fingers gripping onto his Daddy Bear. He'd use his Superman flashlight to read through the latest children's book his Momma had checked out of the library for him. Lips moving to the text, he tried not to listen to their angry words because, the last time they yelled that much at each other, he and his Mom moved out.
When he got older, Gus begged for an iPod, never telling his father he used it to mask the sounds of his mommies arguing. It wasn't like they were the poster family for domestic disturbance, it's just that the shit got old. Every time Gus screwed up, great Mother Melanie of Patience would swoop down and scream at Lindsay how Brian was a fucked up choice for a sperm donor. She'd proclaim over and over again that his jizz was swimming with god only knew how many illegal substances and that they had, in turn, caused Gus to become the fuck up that he was.
Yeah. Gus knew Mel loved him and understood that she kind of, sort of tolerated and respected Brian. He even knew that she was saying all that shit just to make Lindsay hurt, but knowing it and offering up acceptance and forgiveness were two separate things.
They also always seemed to forget that the sound of their screaming carried.
And, yeah, maybe that's why JR played her shitty-ass boy bands so loud.
Raising a tentative hand to his cheek, Gus fingered the red and swollen skin caused from the ring on Melanie's hand. The metal had bit into his flesh when she'd slapped him two nights ago leaving an indentation in the skin.
Maybe he'd deserved it. Maybe he hadn't, but it had fucking hurt. Not the actual action itself, but the anger behind it. Proof that there was a part of her that hated him. Not that he needed it. He knew it was there all along in the way that she never quite met his eyes. Then again, he'd taken after his father in one department; he told people exactly what he thought of them, and, if they didn't like it, they could blow him.
Gus closed his eyes and let her angry words wash over him over and over again until all that was left was white noise.
Seven - Home
Many thanks to shadownyc for betaing.