Post by Skye on Dec 1, 2010 12:26:37 GMT -5
3am;
Skye sat at the desk in front of her laptop staring at the blinking cursor that seemed to mock her. The article had been going, well, sort of smoothly, but now it was at a stand-still. Just like her life felt like it had come to a stand-still.
Glaring at the offending cursor, Skye saved the article and opened a new document. Thinking about all these things that had happened wasn’t doing her much good, but perhaps some free writing would help clear and un-clutter her head so she could think again. She looked up, to the photograph or Toby sitting on his Harley that hung above the desk. The fog shrouded Golden Gate Bridge made a nice background. She stared, seemingly lost in the photo, for a few minutes, before putting her fingers on the keyboard and beginning to type.
It had been such a short time ago, everything was going well, she finally felt like her life was in order, and things were looking up for her. In one night all that changed, and since then, it was hard to see the proverbial silver lining. She felt like she had no home, no boyfriend, her job wasn’t stable, the career she thought she wanted wasn’t tracking. Her grandparents’ recent announcement of moving into an assisted living community had opened her eyes to their advanced age and failing health conditions, adding one more layer of impending loss in her life.
Skye had always thought of herself as being part of the “new” generation of strong, independent women, able to fend for themselves. And for the most part, she was perfectly able to. She could deal with repair shops and landlords and other traditionally stereotyped shysters without getting shafted, she could manage to cook to keep herself alive, she could change her own light bulbs or talk her way out of a speeding ticket with the best of them. But even the strongest will break under too much strain. Skye had dealt with a lot the past year, from Frank reappearing in her life, attacking first her and then Toby; the attack in the ring by Sabora; Toby disappearing; being directed to move in across the driveway from Sabora; and all the little stuff in between.
In the quiet of the false dawn, the click-click of the keys continued, as Skye poured her fears, feelings, and muddled thoughts out of her head and heart. It might not be the best therapy, but it was better than letting it stew around, clogging her thinking processes. Two hours after she started, as the dawn lifted over the bay, she leaned back in the chair, yawned and stretched, and looked out the window into the softly lit yard. Early morning was always one of her favorite times, the world was quiet, still sleepy. Looking back at her screen, she was surprised when saw how many pages she’d typed. She smiled, saved and closed, shut down her laptop and rose from the desk. She walked to the bedroom, flipping the den light off as she passed, leaving her slippers at the bedside and falling into bed, barely taking time to pull the covers back. She was asleep within minutes, and slept soundly for nine hours, soundly for the first time since Toby had left.
Chris Sabora and Skye were seated in his living room, watching the news. She started to speak, “I wish I could offer some help for the situation with your daughter. But all the lawyers I know are connected to the Devils Due. And you aren’t one of their favorite people right now.” She gazed out the window, where the sun sparkled invitingly off the pool in the backyard, though neither of the occupants of the room noticed the invitation. “I’m not really one of their favorite people right now either.” She finished so softly, she might have been talking to herself.
He looked at her, “Thank you for the thought anyway.” After a long pause he continued, “Why are you not one of their favorite people?”
“Mostly because I am living here, that I took on this project. That I stayed working for the EUW, instead of… I don’t know what they expected me to do. A lot of those guys have a sense of loyalty, that... while I admire it,” She shrugged and smiled, “It’s not always practical. Annette used to call me every couple of weeks to check on me. I think she understands that I haven’t ‘left’ Toby, that I miss him terribly, that every day, I make a wish that it's the day he comes home” Looking down, embarrassed by her admission, Skye picked at her fingernails. “Anyway, that’s why.”
“I see. Again, thank you. I’ll get it worked out. She IS my daughter, and I didn’t abandon her.” His voice rose just slightly as he spoke, but he caught himself and had the emotion tamped back down before he’d finished. Skye waited, hoping he would go on. He stared at her for a few more seconds then turned back to the news.
After fifteen minutes of listening to traffic reports and the weather and where the latest art and wine festivals were going to be, Skye got back to the original reason she had come over this morning. To once again attempt more than a surface interview with him. So far, her efforts had been nigh on fruitless. This whole ‘live with him, shadow his every move’ thing wasn’t giving her much to go on. He had his emotional façade in place so well that one couldn’t tell if he was happy, sad, thoughtful or anything in between. Once in a blue moon, she’d seen a slight smile, but she hadn’t known what for. And as far as shadowing him, HA! He’d managed to elude her several times and go God knows where – well, she found out after the fact, but had no idea what had happened during the time he was gone.
“Why did you tear down the academy?” Skye asked Chris.
He turned and looked at her with expressionless eyes, “It needed to be done.” His attention went back to the television.
Skye threw her pencil across the room in frustration and glared at him, “It needed to be done? IT NEEDED TO BE DONE? That’s all your answer is? This whole ‘interview’ process has been like pulling teeth with tweezers from the start. I’ve gotten more information watching your promos than I have from talking to you directly. You know that Kirk Kennedy implied my job is on the line with this…." Her voice trailed off as a thought occurred to her. After a moment, she continued, "Wait a minute. Kirk Kennedy isn’t running things right now. That slime bucket Chad is. Maybe this whole thing is null and void and I can move back to Toby’s and forget this maddening effort.” By now, she was talking more to herself than to Sabora. Skye stood up and retrieved her pencil. With interview materials in hand, she turned her back on him and returned to the guest house across the driveway to do some serious thinking… and make a few phone calls.
Leaning in close to the mirror, she applied another coat of mascara to her already long eyelashes, accenting her carefully lined green eyes even more. After she was satisfied that she had done all she could, she leaned back, picked up the curling iron, and worked on giving her medium length red tresses some bounce and movement that would play up the shine and color under the arena lights when she was in the ring. Once that was done, she took a step back and surveyed her work. Reluctantly, she added a little more lip-gloss and declared herself done. She’d forgotten how much make-up had to be worn under the lights so she wouldn’t look pale and washed out. She laughed at the memory of having to ask Sonny for tips on how to do stage make up that looked good for both close ups and far shots. Slipping into her heels, she finished her pre-show preparations, tossed her make-up back into her bag, took one last look in the mirror and tried on her ‘ring smile’. Then she stepped through the door into the hallway.
Backstage at a EUW show was always bustling. To an untrained eye, it looked like chaos, but mostly everyone there knew where they were going and what they were doing. Skye wove her way through the workers and reporters as fast as she could in high heels, wishing her dressing room was closer to the stage entrance. Not a few of the male workers stopped what they were doing to watch as Skye made her way down the hall, but none of them pestered her. She didn’t seem to notice the attention she garnered on her way, she was too wrapped up in her own thoughts. As she reached the stage entrance, one of the lighting technicians greeted her with a compliment on her dress, she gave him a smile, and peeked out into the arena. The smell of beer and popcorn was redolent in the air and there was a hum of chatter from the audience as they waited for the show to start in earnest. It looked like it was a good crowd tonight, even though ratings were down. Skye stepped back and sighed, there was nothing to do now but wait for her cue.
Skye sat at the desk in front of her laptop staring at the blinking cursor that seemed to mock her. The article had been going, well, sort of smoothly, but now it was at a stand-still. Just like her life felt like it had come to a stand-still.
Glaring at the offending cursor, Skye saved the article and opened a new document. Thinking about all these things that had happened wasn’t doing her much good, but perhaps some free writing would help clear and un-clutter her head so she could think again. She looked up, to the photograph or Toby sitting on his Harley that hung above the desk. The fog shrouded Golden Gate Bridge made a nice background. She stared, seemingly lost in the photo, for a few minutes, before putting her fingers on the keyboard and beginning to type.
It had been such a short time ago, everything was going well, she finally felt like her life was in order, and things were looking up for her. In one night all that changed, and since then, it was hard to see the proverbial silver lining. She felt like she had no home, no boyfriend, her job wasn’t stable, the career she thought she wanted wasn’t tracking. Her grandparents’ recent announcement of moving into an assisted living community had opened her eyes to their advanced age and failing health conditions, adding one more layer of impending loss in her life.
Skye had always thought of herself as being part of the “new” generation of strong, independent women, able to fend for themselves. And for the most part, she was perfectly able to. She could deal with repair shops and landlords and other traditionally stereotyped shysters without getting shafted, she could manage to cook to keep herself alive, she could change her own light bulbs or talk her way out of a speeding ticket with the best of them. But even the strongest will break under too much strain. Skye had dealt with a lot the past year, from Frank reappearing in her life, attacking first her and then Toby; the attack in the ring by Sabora; Toby disappearing; being directed to move in across the driveway from Sabora; and all the little stuff in between.
In the quiet of the false dawn, the click-click of the keys continued, as Skye poured her fears, feelings, and muddled thoughts out of her head and heart. It might not be the best therapy, but it was better than letting it stew around, clogging her thinking processes. Two hours after she started, as the dawn lifted over the bay, she leaned back in the chair, yawned and stretched, and looked out the window into the softly lit yard. Early morning was always one of her favorite times, the world was quiet, still sleepy. Looking back at her screen, she was surprised when saw how many pages she’d typed. She smiled, saved and closed, shut down her laptop and rose from the desk. She walked to the bedroom, flipping the den light off as she passed, leaving her slippers at the bedside and falling into bed, barely taking time to pull the covers back. She was asleep within minutes, and slept soundly for nine hours, soundly for the first time since Toby had left.
●
Chris Sabora and Skye were seated in his living room, watching the news. She started to speak, “I wish I could offer some help for the situation with your daughter. But all the lawyers I know are connected to the Devils Due. And you aren’t one of their favorite people right now.” She gazed out the window, where the sun sparkled invitingly off the pool in the backyard, though neither of the occupants of the room noticed the invitation. “I’m not really one of their favorite people right now either.” She finished so softly, she might have been talking to herself.
He looked at her, “Thank you for the thought anyway.” After a long pause he continued, “Why are you not one of their favorite people?”
“Mostly because I am living here, that I took on this project. That I stayed working for the EUW, instead of… I don’t know what they expected me to do. A lot of those guys have a sense of loyalty, that... while I admire it,” She shrugged and smiled, “It’s not always practical. Annette used to call me every couple of weeks to check on me. I think she understands that I haven’t ‘left’ Toby, that I miss him terribly, that every day, I make a wish that it's the day he comes home” Looking down, embarrassed by her admission, Skye picked at her fingernails. “Anyway, that’s why.”
“I see. Again, thank you. I’ll get it worked out. She IS my daughter, and I didn’t abandon her.” His voice rose just slightly as he spoke, but he caught himself and had the emotion tamped back down before he’d finished. Skye waited, hoping he would go on. He stared at her for a few more seconds then turned back to the news.
After fifteen minutes of listening to traffic reports and the weather and where the latest art and wine festivals were going to be, Skye got back to the original reason she had come over this morning. To once again attempt more than a surface interview with him. So far, her efforts had been nigh on fruitless. This whole ‘live with him, shadow his every move’ thing wasn’t giving her much to go on. He had his emotional façade in place so well that one couldn’t tell if he was happy, sad, thoughtful or anything in between. Once in a blue moon, she’d seen a slight smile, but she hadn’t known what for. And as far as shadowing him, HA! He’d managed to elude her several times and go God knows where – well, she found out after the fact, but had no idea what had happened during the time he was gone.
“Why did you tear down the academy?” Skye asked Chris.
He turned and looked at her with expressionless eyes, “It needed to be done.” His attention went back to the television.
Skye threw her pencil across the room in frustration and glared at him, “It needed to be done? IT NEEDED TO BE DONE? That’s all your answer is? This whole ‘interview’ process has been like pulling teeth with tweezers from the start. I’ve gotten more information watching your promos than I have from talking to you directly. You know that Kirk Kennedy implied my job is on the line with this…." Her voice trailed off as a thought occurred to her. After a moment, she continued, "Wait a minute. Kirk Kennedy isn’t running things right now. That slime bucket Chad is. Maybe this whole thing is null and void and I can move back to Toby’s and forget this maddening effort.” By now, she was talking more to herself than to Sabora. Skye stood up and retrieved her pencil. With interview materials in hand, she turned her back on him and returned to the guest house across the driveway to do some serious thinking… and make a few phone calls.
●
Leaning in close to the mirror, she applied another coat of mascara to her already long eyelashes, accenting her carefully lined green eyes even more. After she was satisfied that she had done all she could, she leaned back, picked up the curling iron, and worked on giving her medium length red tresses some bounce and movement that would play up the shine and color under the arena lights when she was in the ring. Once that was done, she took a step back and surveyed her work. Reluctantly, she added a little more lip-gloss and declared herself done. She’d forgotten how much make-up had to be worn under the lights so she wouldn’t look pale and washed out. She laughed at the memory of having to ask Sonny for tips on how to do stage make up that looked good for both close ups and far shots. Slipping into her heels, she finished her pre-show preparations, tossed her make-up back into her bag, took one last look in the mirror and tried on her ‘ring smile’. Then she stepped through the door into the hallway.
Backstage at a EUW show was always bustling. To an untrained eye, it looked like chaos, but mostly everyone there knew where they were going and what they were doing. Skye wove her way through the workers and reporters as fast as she could in high heels, wishing her dressing room was closer to the stage entrance. Not a few of the male workers stopped what they were doing to watch as Skye made her way down the hall, but none of them pestered her. She didn’t seem to notice the attention she garnered on her way, she was too wrapped up in her own thoughts. As she reached the stage entrance, one of the lighting technicians greeted her with a compliment on her dress, she gave him a smile, and peeked out into the arena. The smell of beer and popcorn was redolent in the air and there was a hum of chatter from the audience as they waited for the show to start in earnest. It looked like it was a good crowd tonight, even though ratings were down. Skye stepped back and sighed, there was nothing to do now but wait for her cue.
