Howard Bassem (
iselldrugstothecommunity) wrote2012-10-14 05:15 pm
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But Time Takes Time, You Know [Musebox]
It's hard to research things that haven't happened yet, Howard discovers. Rather than hitting the library, like he would have on Stacy, he has to spend a lot of time thinking, sitting around talking to Barbara about every detail he remembers of his family history. Every year that passes by, the memories get a little more obscure, a little less refined, and he starts to panic, thinking that he won't have enough information to track down his family at all soon.
Over endless cups of tea, Barbara asks questions ("do you remember your mother's maiden name? do you know where your father's parents were from before they came to California? do you remember what their professions were?") to try and drag out the useful information, but it ends up being a stray memory of a Christmas dinner that puts the pieces in place.
"My grandma has to be in San Francisco. They had a one year wedding anniversary ornament on the Christmas tree of the Golden Gate Bridge, and I'm pretty sure they got married in 1969."
What they were doing in San Francisco is beyond his knowledge, but it's the closest they have to a shot. He doesn't know what hospitals his parents were born in, or where his paternal grandparents might be now, or even what year his parents are going to meet. It takes a lot of agonizing before he decides to spend all that money he's been saving in a can under the sink on plane tickets for him and Barbara to go there, but when he invites her she agrees that it's important to him, and besides, how often does one get to vacation in America?
So they both have suitcases packed and a promise to be back in ten days, waiting for Ian in the kitchen to come drive them to the airport. Howard's nervous, naturally, because he's not sure how he'll introduce himself to total strangers as their grandkid from the future. But he's come to relax a bit - a bit - over the last few years, and as such he just chews his lip and bounces his leg a bit rather than panics. He even got six hours of sleep last night. It's truly a miracle.
Over endless cups of tea, Barbara asks questions ("do you remember your mother's maiden name? do you know where your father's parents were from before they came to California? do you remember what their professions were?") to try and drag out the useful information, but it ends up being a stray memory of a Christmas dinner that puts the pieces in place.
"My grandma has to be in San Francisco. They had a one year wedding anniversary ornament on the Christmas tree of the Golden Gate Bridge, and I'm pretty sure they got married in 1969."
What they were doing in San Francisco is beyond his knowledge, but it's the closest they have to a shot. He doesn't know what hospitals his parents were born in, or where his paternal grandparents might be now, or even what year his parents are going to meet. It takes a lot of agonizing before he decides to spend all that money he's been saving in a can under the sink on plane tickets for him and Barbara to go there, but when he invites her she agrees that it's important to him, and besides, how often does one get to vacation in America?
So they both have suitcases packed and a promise to be back in ten days, waiting for Ian in the kitchen to come drive them to the airport. Howard's nervous, naturally, because he's not sure how he'll introduce himself to total strangers as their grandkid from the future. But he's come to relax a bit - a bit - over the last few years, and as such he just chews his lip and bounces his leg a bit rather than panics. He even got six hours of sleep last night. It's truly a miracle.
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"I can call Ian in the morning if you're tired," she offered, "I've nothing urgent to say, I only wanted to check in."
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"Howard? Did you want to say hello?" she asked, holding her hand over the receiver, "John's sleeping, so it's only Ian."
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When he's finally done monopolizing the telephone (and the conversation, really), he hands the phone back to Barbara.
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"Did you get all of that?" asked Barbara playfully. Another moment of idle chatter and she wished him a good morning, told him she loved him, and hung up the phone. She then sat on the bed and smiled at nothing.
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Then he's neck-deep in a fitful sleep, one hand occasionally searching around the pillow near his head for his cats.
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When she woke, the first thing Barbara noticed was just how empty Howard's bed was. She listened for any sounds in the room to indicate where he might be.
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It's still dark outside so he figures he's in the clear. He slips the key into the lock for the hotel room and struggles with it for a moment before getting it open - and finding Barbara awake.
Oops.
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"Howard, where have you been?" she asked and scratched her head where the bedhair was at its worst. "It's 5am."
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He closes the door behind him but decides not to walk over to the bed - he thinks he might have to use the wall to get there without stumbling, and that would surely be a giveaway. He doesn't even know Barbara's already put it together.
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Barbara got up from her own bed, pushing the covers aside. She can see how flushed he was looking, and the perspiration on his brow. Although Ian had never come home in such a way, she wasn't unfamiliar with the looks of a drunk man.
"Come on, Howard. You need some rest," Barbara said and held out her arm for him to take.
not the schoolmarm look! D8
Which is a lie, because he actually doesn't feel like sleeping at all right now. He feels restless and guilty and there's a rising feeling of dread in him.
"God, I'm so stupid." He's going to be hungover when he next sees Rose and Hal. The idea chills him.
Take it! TAKE IT! ...what?
"Lie down," Barbara told him. She moved the bin closer just in case he was going to vomit. He didn't like that queasy, but it was always a possibility.
Barbara left him on the bed to wet the face cloth in their bathroom. She returned to press it against his head gently. If nothing else it would clean up the sweat on his face a little.
After another moment she let him lie there alone while she fetched the kettle. Once it was filled with cold water from the tap, she brought it over with a glass.
"Hangovers are caused by dehydration brought on by the alcohol. I want you to drink a few glasses of water. It will help you a little once the alcohol has worn off."
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"I wasn't planning on drinking, I swear, I just was going to check it out and come home, but there was this guy there and he said I had a nice face even though I'm missing teeth and my nose is all crooked and he kept buying me drinks and you know what it's like when people put stuff to drink right in front of me..."
He hiccups and drinks a little more water. In his drunken rambling he didn't bother to hide pronouns, and he doesn't even notice. He strokes his fingers over the wet cloth, looking over her face as if trying to confirm that she isn't angry at him. He'll feel terrible knowing he disappointed her.
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"Howard, it doesn't matter. Just try and rest for the moment."
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And he really isn't the sort of person who needs to feel emotions more keenly than he already does.
"I want what you and Ian have and I'm never going to get that, and then tonight there was like forty minutes where I was like okay, maybe I could someday, but then I was too drunk and I had to get out of there." His voice feels like slush in his mouth.
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Barbara's hand is warm and soothing on his back and he wants to just focus on that. He shuts his eyes and tries to visualize her hand like a red shape in the darkness. "And I'm saying I can't. No one's ever going to want me when I'm a mess inside and out."
Who would have anticipated being so anti-social could make him so lonely? "It was nice for like, forty minutes to feel like someone wanted me like that."
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"Close your eyes," she told him gently, "and breathe nice and deeply."
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