Description
A Greater Society - Chapter 86: Pride by Ratte
Story
I don't know how long it's been.
Days, weeks, sure, but by now I'd lost count of them all.
Months? By now, easily. I'd barely noticed the turning of pages in my calendar. Days of importance and interest seemed to sneak up on me no matter how well-marked they might be beforehand. There came a point where days no longer mattered beyond the number I might write down on some piece of paper laid in front of me.
Time passed not as minutes, but as sheets of paper.
As assignments, as folders taken one morning and given up the next.
It was all such a blur I could no longer remember what I might have worked on just the day before.
Records? Transfers? Maybe.
Taxes? Inventory? Certainly possible.
While I might have tried to tackle the increase in work with gusto it wasn't long before it began wearing on me. As much as I'd try to laugh it off, that it was just my getting old, I knew that just wasn't true.
They all knew, too, but I tried to avoid the subject.
The amount of work I was taking to support my family kept me at my desk from the usual morning until only a couple short hours before bed. I'd barely the time to break off at noon for lunch or at closing for dinner, too deep in work to even consider what I'd need to do to compensate for the time I'd lost. Defiantly, but expectedly, Daniel and the three children would instead opt to dine out in the lobby during those times and further ensure I'd eat something. I really didn't like eating at my desk, lest I get something on my work, so it was a little bit of a chore trying to work while taking bites here and there.
Not to mention that should I protest it would waste further time. As much as I loved Daniel I found myself wishing that he maybe loved me a little less if only to make things easier for everyone.
As time continued to fly by I soon found our children older, along with ourselves, though I barely remembered the celebrations. Bits and pieces of memories involving the town's ramiotran population, various flavorful foods, and quiet evenings.
I found myself more distant from everyone and it hurt me in a way I couldn't even begin to describe. The very fabric holding together our lives was also the antagonist of it all, the shears tearing at the seams. If I were on the outside of this matter I'd maybe find some humor in the irony, and even more so when considering those at the heart of it all-- my children, all new types, and all with a rather unsavory history with pure types. With my being a pure type I tried to be more careful with the things I did and said, though they didn't seem to hold against me what I happened to be.
...So much of our lives was held together by irony.
---
More days, more weeks.
Sand disappeared from one end of the hourglass to the other in what felt like the blink of an eye, time lost to a seemingly endless mountain of work. I felt both good and bad that our children had their assigned chores as without them I don't think I'd have a moment of rest whatsoever before bed. I knew they weren't terribly thrilled with the idea of working around the house, though.
As much as I wish they didn't, they did seem to pick up on the value of that work. Not just for the household as that was more or less a given, but for me on a personal level. I never liked troubling others with the things I needed to do or think about so their perhaps begrudging willingness to tend to things meant more than they might have realized.
Sura and Saffron in particular seemed to almost read the very air of the lobby where I was always working. The little tasks I'd sweat over while running my pen across an endless stream of paper would find themselves sorted out before too long. I'd notice similar from Daniel who by now was de-facto in charge of groceries and dinner, including the money for said groceries.
"Please, Daniel, y-you don't need to--"
"I think by now we're both well aware that yes, I do," he'd sigh, "but what ya gotta understand is that this is something I want to do. Hell, it's something I've been doin' longer than ya think. This is just making it official, really."
"Wh...Why would--"
"Sam, please just listen to me for a moment here," he said, placing his hands on my cheeks and resting his snout atop my head. "This is my home, too. You're my family, too. I feel like I gotta help out because I care, because I want y'all to be happy and to succeed. I promise it's not a negative thing-- far from it. I also make more per hour than you do and if it means givin' ya a little more time during the day then that alone would be wonderful."
I didn't know what to say.
"...But I know ya take pride in your work and I don't want to take that from you," he continued. "This is something I didn't want to bring up if I could avoid it, but it's kinda push come to shove. Please let me help out, here."
This was a situation I'd hoped to avoid, but knew well enough it was only a matter of time. Daniel was very observant to the point it was almost disarming, picking up on even the slightest changes in my actions or demeanor. He was good at his job, I suppose.
He was also right about my pride, which I hadn't really considered much before then. I hadn't any useful skills or talents so I poured my pride into my work ethic and efficiency. Without those things I may as well just not exist. Was my pride a bad thing?
Was it...why we were in this mess?
...
The idea that I'd gotten everyone into this situation made me feel sick to my stomach, quickly pushing away from my partner to run out of the room, down the hall, and to the bathroom to relinquish my dinner into the nearest toilet.
I heaved and heaved for what seemed like forever until there was nothing left but sour, burning bile. My throat and mouth were on fire, my unkempt bangs dripped with sweat from the sudden hotflash and sprint. I could do little more than rest my arms upon the toilet seat and stare down into the bowl, my reflection broken up into pieces from the mess I'd just made.
It was, wasn't it?
Before I had a chance to fight it my eyes began welling up-- the impotent, salty drops trailing down my face and joining my dinner.
"...Samuel?" came a quiet, deep voice behind me.
Normally I'd panic and flail but all my strength -- what little I had -- seemed to have left me. I sat crumpled on the bathroom floor leaning over the toilet bowl, the pungent odor of bile assaulting my nostrils with every breath I took.
Maybe that's what I deserved.
Past my head fog I could just barely make out the soft thud of large feet against the tile floor, followed soon by the presence and gentle squeeze of a hand on my shoulder. While it startled me I couldn't even flinch.
"Alright, Sam, let's get ya fixed up," he said, stirring and shuffling behind me.
I heard a squeak of a water knob and a hiss from the tap. A moment later I was presented with a cup of water.
"Rinse your mouth out with this first and spit it back into the toilet, then I'll get ya some to drink," he said while rubbing my back.
I took the cup without turning my head and did as instructed, offering the empty cup back to my partner. He took it and redid the motions, my taking a few shallow gulps of what I was given. It took a little time but I did manage to choke down the full contents of the glass.
From above me an arm stretched out to hit the toilet's handle, flushing away my sweat and shame. That arm soon came for me, one wrapped behind my back while a hand took one of my own in an attempt to stand me back up to my feet. Try as I might, however, I couldn't seem to stay standing as though my very being had been shaken.
I did this to myself.
I did this to all of us.
It was impossible to see at this point, my eyes fully coated in saline tears. My mind felt like it was trapped in a black box with no light in sight, lost in darkness and with only the sound of my thoughts to keep it any company.
I mustered my feeble strength into my hand, grabbing and squeezing Daniel's shirt in some attempt to right and steady myself. Through the numbness in my legs I forced them to work and hold me up, sharp pins and needles stabbing my feet with every little step and movement I made.
"Sam, let me help you get back to the bedroom," Daniel requested from above me, his arm still wrapped behind my back.
I did this.
Without a word I took a step forward in an effort to leave the bathroom, but he was right behind me and unwilling to part.
"Please, Sam, let me help you," he again requested. "I just don't want ya fallin' in the hallway and gettin' hurt."
Help me?
I stumbled a bit but caught myself with the doorway.
I caused all of this.
Slowly I turned the corner and entered the hallway, following the right side wall. The mere thought of accepting help after this revelation disgusted me and would likely just put me right back in the bathroom to heave more bile into some unfortunate toilet.
Daniel seemed to understand, at least to an extent, to let me do what I felt was right, but all the while trailed close by my side should I lose my balance and fall. He kept at my pace, slowly but surely making our way down the hall and back to the bedroom. Without a wall to grip the journey from the door to the bed was a trial, my head and body feeling as though they were full of the water of a restless sea.
My hands finally met the edge of the bed, my fingers flexing to reassure me of what it was before I pushed myself further to crawl back into the undeserved warmth.
"...I'll be right back, okay?" Daniel said with a sigh, looking back to me before disappearing back down the hallway and leaving me alone with my thoughts.
Alone, like I should be.
Today was the first day time seemed to slow. My head was both blank and buzzing with thoughts and memories as I recalled the past several years, trying to pinpoint all the times and places I'd done wrong...or at least could have done better.
...Could have been better.
I should be better. I'm supposed to be better.
I had nothing but examples of what not to do, what not to be. I knew to be better than that.
At the end of the day, though, we were here. I was stuck in the only job willing to humor me for the children I kept and loved because I was too proud to do anything else.
The light rays upon the floor in front of me were broken by strange shapes, but I hadn't the strength to turn my head to see who it might be. All I could tell was that it wasn't the shadow of my partner, and while this would normally unsettle me I couldn't find it in me to move and even welcomed whatever they might do to me.
Scare me.
Hurt me.
It didn't matter anymore.
Footsteps of an unfamiliar rhythm echoed through the room, drawing nearer and nearer before stopping just out of eyeshot.
"It didn't have to be this way, Reverend," it said above me, a voice I'd never heard before.
I blinked once or twice, the shadow having disappeared in the interim. It was like they'd never...
...Like they'd never been there.
My thoughts were interrupted by Daniel's reappearance, his taking a seat on the side of the bed as he offered an antacid and a glass of ginger ale. It took all I had to sit upright and take the offering, and a quick glance to his face didn't seem to hint at anything unusual having taken place just moments prior. Either they'd run off exceptionally quickly or they were never there at all.
...And the latter seemed more likely. Knowing what it meant I spoke not a word of it, drowning my words with the ginger ale.
"I'm sorry if I said anything to cause that," he said, scratching his head.
...No.
"I know you're under a lot of stress lately and I just want to help, is all," he went on.
...Please don't...apologize to something like me.
"...You work real hard, Sam, and I just...want to make it easier for ya," he said, stroking my sweaty hair. "I didn't mean to offend and I certainly didn't mean to make ya sick."
...Just stop...please.
"Not to...um, aggravate this ordeal, but...I can tell something's up with you even if I don't know what it is," he said, moving his hand from my hair to my cheek. "I know ya don't like when I offer, but I feel I'd be lettin' ya down if I didn't: You can talk to me about whatever ails ya, and we can do it out in the infirmary where it's truly private."
I couldn't speak and I could only barely look at him.
"...I won't force ya, but I'd really like ya to," he said, taking the empty glass as I chewed the antacid. "I love you, and I want to make you happy."
This was...all my fault.
My ears dipped back as he stood back up, offering another small glass of water to chase what I'd chewed. I slowly downed it and gave him back the glass, which he just set aside on a small table next to the one used for the ginger ale. He walked over to the door and closed it before coming back to the bed, crawling up to his usual spot from the foot as to not disturb me. Once he was situated under the comforter he took the corner and opened it to invite me to lie down, the dizziness answering the gesture for me as I lowered myself back down upon the bed. The covers came up and over me, bringing his big arm with them. Instead of pulling me closer he'd come closer on his own, loathe to be away from me for any length of time.
"No matter what happens, or what's happened," he whispered, burying his snout in my hair, "I'll always be here."
Despite the storm in my head I felt my hand cling feebly to his arm as I finally drifted off to a restless sleep.
---
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Tarov
MemberI'm going on with my head-canon that Reverend is Prometheus. He was punished by the gods for giving fire to New Types, and is forced to repeat his torture--working his live and his kid's childhoods away--to eternally repent for his sins.
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