#also when i said feedback i meant nicely worded feedback dont hurt me im fragile

[downbytheouterbanks]

Happy Place (Rafe x reader) pt 3

part 1 & part 2

The second Sarah walked into her room and caught sight of you sitting cross-legged on the floor, with the same confused look that you had when she was teaching you how to use a tampon, she knew it was go time. She immediately mirrored your position and sat cross-legged in front of you, her presence made you somewhat snap out of your daze.

“Honey, what’s got your panties in a twist? Do you need a lesson in Diva Cups now?” Sarah joked, trying to lighten your mood so you would open up to her. She was successful has she earned a soft chuckle from you. Sarah had her hands placed on her knees and you grabbed them, holding her hands in yours as you looked at her with the most serious expression she had ever seen grace your face.

“Sarah, I’m going to tell you something and you have to promise to not get mad at me and unfriend me because you are my best friend and also like my only friend on this island and  I would spontaneously combust if I didn’t have you in my life.” You let out while holding eye contact with Sarah.

“Why would I get mad?” Sarah asked as she quirked her head to the side, not understanding your urgency.

“Sarah I need you to say you won’t get mad and promise me.”

“I won’t get mad, I promise, here,” She takes both of her hands from your grasp and holds out her pinkies to you, “double pinky promise.” She says with a comforting smile. You lock your pinkies with hers, dramatically placing a kiss on both of your hands, complete with a “MWUAH” after each kiss. “Now spill, missy!”

“Okay, so remember when we were younger and we talked about how in all the cheesy romance movies we used to watch, every couple had like a moment? You know like the moment they realized they have feelings for each other?” Sarah nods her head, signaling you to get to the point. “Well, I think I just had a moment.” Sarah’s eyes went wide and she gasped.

“Oh my god, with who?”

You took a deep breath, not happy that you have to admit it out loud since she couldn’t piece the puzzle together, “With Rafe.” Little did you know it was at that moment that Rafe was walking by Sarah’s room, and at the sound of his name coming from your voice after what just happened between you two, how could he not eavesdrop?

For the first time in her life, Sarah had no words to say. And that made you panic, launching into a word vomit explanation.

“I mean it’s not like I came onto him or anything and he didn’t come onto me either! It’s just you were still in the shower and my sunburn was bad and I needed something to put an end to the fire that I was feeling and I could reach my back to put the aloe gel on myself so I asked Rafe and he didn’t mean to see my tits, that was my fault I didn’t see the mirror! But he looked away really fast and then everything was fine until he breathed on me and I think I moaned? Not like because I wanted him or anything-GOD NO! It was just he breathed on this one spot and then it felt good and then the next thing I know, he’s helping me put my shirt back on and then we are just kinda holding each other and I thought I was just thinking but I said something out loud and I REALLY WISH I HADN’T because honestly, I don’t think I can look at him the same-” and with that, Rafe decided he didn’t need to listen anymore, he backed away from the door, retrieved a bottle of whiskey, and retreated back to his room, which he did not plan on leaving until you were gone. What Rafe didn’t hear was how you finished your ramble.

You had continued on to say, “like I think I’m attracted to him but I don’t want to pursue anything if he doesn’t feel the same way and especially not if you aren’t cool with it.” As soon as those words left your mouth, you closed your eyes and took in a deep breath.

“You really had a movie moment with him?” Sarah softly asks, and as you open your eyes you are met with a look of hesitation and doubt from your best friend. “How do you know?” You look around the room, trying to formulate your next words.

“This may or may not make sense but like when he held me like so close to him and then I looked him in the eyes, it was kind of like everything was still like I was absolutely paralyzed but like I could feel butterflies everywhere.” There is a moment of silence after you say this and you still refuse to meet Sarah’s gaze until she gives your hands a squeeze. When you look at her, she has a soft smile on her face which you return.

“That sounds really special,” She says and all you can do is sheepishly nod, “but like my brother, really?” At that, both of you get lost in a fit of giggles. When the two of you finally catch your breath Sarah hesitantly asks, “So what are you gonna do?”

“I mean in all honesty, I didn’t really think that far because I don’t want to mess up our friendship or my friendship with Rafe.”

“(Y/N),” Sarah says in a serious tone, “I don’t think there is anyone else on this planet who could balance out my brother. As long as you don’t ditch me for him, I’m okay if you want to see where it goes. I mean you said you had your movie moment and that is something that we have both been dreaming about, what kind of friend would I be if I made you miss out on that?”

Sarah and you still had chick flicks to watch and pizza to eat, however, so any business with Rafe, you promised would wait until the next day. When the morning rolled around, you and Sarah lounged about in the kitchen, Sarah making her famous banana pancakes (they’re only famous because it is the only food she can make from scratch), patiently waiting for Rafe to be lured out of his room by the smell of breakfast so you could talk to him. Ten am quickly turned to eleven am and Rafe still had not made an appearance from his room, you were starting to get anxious because you promised your parents you would be home by noon so you could help your mom get ready for the gala that was being hosted at the country club later that evening.

“Maybe just go knock on his door? He could still be asleep.” Sarah suggested as a last-ditch effort, you were starting to panic and feel that maybe you over-romanticized everything that happened in your head, maybe he didn’t get those same butterflies that you did.

“Okay, wish me luck.” And with that Sarah shot you two thumbs up before you made your way up the stairs, your pace slowed as you approached the door, trying to prepare yourself for every possible situation. When you finally found yourself standing in front of his door, you took a deep breath and then knocked, “Hey, Rafe, sorry if I’m waking you up but I… I uh just wanted to talk to you. I wanted to talk about what happened yesterday.” You waited for any kind of response and when nothing came, you knocked again, “Rafe? It’s (Y/N).”

On the other side of the door, Rafe laid on his bed, staring at the ceiling. He was debating. Should he just ignore you? Would you go away if he just stayed silent? He decided to see how his silence would play out. You tried knocking one more time and even tried his doorknob but he locked it last night so it didn’t budge. After trying the door he heard your footsteps retreat, “finally”, he thought to himself.

You grabbed your stuff from Sarah’s room before making your way back down the stairs and into the kitchen to tell Sarah. She tried to tell you that maybe he had his AirPods in or she also assured you that he could be a REALLY heavy sleeper sometimes, but you just took it as a sign. You thanked Sarah for having you over and gave her a kiss on the cheek before heading out the door of the Cameron house, saying that you’ll text her when you get to the gala tonight so the two of you could meet up because even though her parents weren’t there, Sarah and Rafe still had to go and represent the name.

Your walk home consisted of you trying to talk yourself out of the romantic fantasy you had built up in your head, trying to cushion the blow of rejection. It’s not like you liked him for that long, right? It’s been maybe ten hours since you started feeling something towards him. Maybe it’s just a harmless attraction. He is hot, there is no denying that and you have never been in that kind of contact with someone you found attractive before, so maybe your brain just shut down when he touched you? That could happen, scientifically speaking, right? By the time you crossed the threshold of your house, you were emotionally drained from all your inner monologue and you despised your attraction to the male species.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

You finished slipping on your heels as your mom appeared in your doorway, “Hey, sweetie, are you sure you want to drive separate?”

“Yeah, I just want to have some time to myself to mentally prepare for this. Plus, I don’t know how long I’ll be able to last at this thing.” Your mom nods and lets you know that they were leaving now and would see you there.

Your parents left and you got up to approach your mirror, your emerald green gown complement your complexion and the freckles that had begun to pop up all over your skin from being in the sun. You felt elegant, the shape of your dress was classic and the fabric draped over your skin. You felt sexy, the dress was constructed with a deep-v showing just the right amount of cleavage and with a deep-v that left your still sunburnt back exposed. You felt free, the dress held you in above the waist without constricting you, and then the skirt held excess folds of fabric that could billow in the wind and expose your entire right leg from the well-hidden slit.

You couldn’t wait to see what stunning outfit Sarah had chosen so you sent her a quick text as you made your way out of your house letting her know you should be at the country club, ready to dance to crappy music and eat flavorless food in about 15 minutes.

Sarah was waiting for you outside, a stark white gown adorned her figure, making her sunkissed skin stand out. She dorkily pretended to be a paparazzi, using her hands to mimic taking pictures of you as you made your way to her. You shook your head and giggled before mustering up the most dramatic model strut, and when you finally got to her she yelled, “pose for me!” You just giggled at her antics and linked your arm with hers, and she led you through the crowd inside the building, introducing you to people who you didn’t already know, but more importantly, leading you to the buffet outside.

Sarah and you made your way outside, the large patio of the country club had the food buffet on one side and the open bar on the other, separated by the dance floor littered with people of all ages acting as an obstacle between the two necessities of the night. Upon seeing the food, the two of you wasted no time, desperate to see what sustenance there was, on the other side of the dance floor by the bar, your entrance was noted. Rafe stood with Topper and Kelce, “eyeing what company was up for grabs tonight,” as Topper had put it.

Rafe’s eyes landed on you the moment you had stepped outside, he sucked in a breath, stunned by how gorgeous you looked. Topper had also taken note of your entrance, “Damn, that new girl is something else. Did you see the slit in her dress? What I wouldn’t give to run my hand up her leg and-”

“Topper, watch what you’re saying, she’s my sister’s best friend.” Rafe cut him off, jaw clenched.

“Oh damn, she’s been hanging with Sarah? Lucky you, man, I mean look at her!” Topper exclaimed gesturing to the buffet area where you and Sarah now stood, “Like she has such a nice rack on her-” Rafe clutched his whiskey glass tighter, “I could just imagine how perky they would be-” Rafe clutched his whiskey glass TIGHTER, “I just want to like get my head right in there y’know? See how hard I could get her-” Rafe’s grip on his glass was fatal, it shattered in his hands, causing Topper to stop his rambling and turn to him.

“What the fuck, man?” Was all Topper could let out before Rafe decked him.

“I told you to watch what you’re saying, man.” Rafe had grabbed Topper by the shirt and now held him close enough that he got spit on Topper’s face as he said those words through gritted teeth.

“Well, you should have said that you were pussy-whipped instead,” Topper said as he pushed Rafe off of him. That was the moment everything went to shit.

You and Sarah’s heads had whipped around to the bar at the sound of the glass shattering and at the moment Rafe punched Topper, THE FIRST TIME, you began weaving your way through the mass of people keeping you from him.

You had lost sight of the fight as you navigated the crowd, you just kept praying the sounds of brawl would stop. When you finally broke through on the other side, you let out a relieved sigh as a group of people tore the two guys apart.

“Rafe?” You timidly let out, biting your lip as soon as his name left your mouth.

His head snapped over to where you stood, your face was ridden with concern, he watched your eyes rake over his body, almost as if you were doing damage control. When your eyes came back up to meet his, you saw shame swimming in his pretty blue eyes.

You spoke, again, but this time more sure of yourself, “Rafe, wanna come with me to get some air?” He nodded his head and you approached him, signaling the guys who were restraining him to let him go. You held out your hand for him to grab and then you wordlessly led him from the stunned crowd of onlookers and out to the parking lot, as you approached your car you used your free hand to grab your car keys from the pocket in your dress. You gave his hand a gentle squeeze before letting it go to open your passenger side door for him and then heading around the car to the driver’s side. You put the key in the ignition and started the car, music from the radio flooded the space and the air conditioning blasted a much needed cool breeze onto the both of you.

You just sat there, your hands resting on the steering wheel, looking forward, you didn’t know if you should look at Rafe or not. Taking a deep breath in and out, you moved your right hand from the wheel to the gear shift and put the car into reverse, when Rafe spoke up, “What are you doing?”

“I’m driving”

“Why?”

“We can’t sit in the parking lot anymore.”

“Why?”

“You’re hurt and bleeding and need to be cleaned up.”

“Oh.”

“I was honestly expecting you to say “why”, again. You have a really good impression of a 4-year-old, you know that?” You heard him chuckled softly at your remark and quickly stole a glance at him as you were driving, a soft smile sat on his bruised and cut up face. Silence washed over the two of you, again, the only sound was coming from your car, the blowing of the air conditioning, and the soft hum of the radio.

“You just drove by my house,” Rafe pointed out the car window and looked at you, puzzled.

“Yes, I know. You’re coming back to my place.” Your answer was met with a sigh from the boy in your passenger seat.

“You know you don’t have to do this, I’m a big boy who can take care of himself.” You couldn’t help but laugh at his response.

“Well, one, I would think that a BIG BOY would know not to get into fights with someone who seemed to be his best friend. And two, I don’t trust you to be alone right now, you are being far too quiet which means you have a whole bunch of emotions stirring up in you.” Rafe scoffed at your words before responding, “You don’t know what happened and you don’t need to care about me.”

“You remember you owe me a favor, right?” Rafe hummed in response to your question.

“Well consider this me cashing it in, do me a favor and just let me care about you, okay?” You say as you pull into your driveway, putting your car in park and getting out, moving around your car to get the door for him, he laughs at this as he gets out, “Wow, (Y/N), I didn’t know you were such a gentleman.”

“Whatever, come on, punching bag, I have a first aid kit in my bathroom.” You say and as you hold your hand out, again, for him to grab, allowing you to lead him to your room.

When you open your door to your room, you don’t think much of it. It is the same room your have stayed in every summer for as long as you can remember and he has been in here before, but when Rafe crosses into your room he stops in his tracks, bringing you to a holt. You turn around to see him looking everywhere, taking it all in, “Wow,” he breathes out.

“What?” You looked at him confusedly.

“It’s really your room now like it reflects you and who you are now, it’s not just the stereotypical summer beach house room.” His gaze finally shifts back to you, you’re still holding his hand and a sweet smile graces your face.

“I guess I never thought about it that way, now come on, let’s get you cleaned up.” You tug him along, again, dropping his hand as you get into your bathroom to reach for the first aid kit in your cabinet before patting the counter and stepping back, motioning for him to sit on it. He obliges and you open the first aid kit, laying out everything you need next to him on the counter. Rafe watches as you step between his thighs and gently grab his hands in yours, inspecting the one that once held a glass of whiskey, you wince, “Rafe, there’s a piece of glass in your hand, doesn’t that hurt? How are you so calm right now?” You grab a pair of tweezers to retrieve the glass from his skin and as you set your focus back on his hand he responds, “It doesn’t hurt when you’re holding it.”

You feel your face flush, “Okay, Romeo, you might want to rethink that,” you say as you use your tweezers to pull the piece of glass from his skin. He hisses from the pain and lets a few expletives fall from his lips. “Shhh, shh, shh, it’s okay. It’s okay.” You try to soothe him, you use one hand to tend to the wound left behind by the glass and the other rests on one of his knees, your hand giving it a soft squeeze and then absentmindedly letting your thumb rub side to side motions. He places his free hand on top of your hand that rests on his knee, “oh, sorry,” you say and take this as a signal to pull your hand away but he quickly dismisses you, “no it was nice, keep doing it, I just wanted to hold your hand.”

“Oh, okay, but I need it for a second to put a bandaid on this cut. Who is your favorite Scooby-Doo character?” You say as you hold up your box of Scooby-Doo bandaids.

“Velma.”

“Huh,” you say as you search in the box for a Velma bandaid, “I pegged you as a Fred kinda guy, he’s the man with the plan and suave with the ladies.”

“Yeah, well,” Rafe responds as you open up the bandaid, “Velma reminds me of you so she’s my favorite.” He states softly in a matter of fact tone.

“Oh.” Was all you could say as you gingerly placed the bandaid on his cut before you carefully bring his hand up and place a kiss with a quiet “mwuah” on his now Velma protected wound.

A quiet giggle escapes your lips, and his, as you place his hand down and move your attention to his next injury to tend to. “Hey, (Y/N/N)?” Rafe quietly asks. You hum signaling him to continue. “Would you, uh, kiss all of my boo-boos? My mom used to do that.” You look up at him with apologetic eyes and nod at the blushing boy, you remember his mom, she was easily the kindest person you had ever met. So you continued on in silence this way, you cleaned the cuts that scattered his knuckles and then leaned into him to clean the few cuts that were scattered on his face. First, you cleaned the one on his cheekbone, then the one above his eyebrow, placing a chaste kiss to each spot.

You looked at the last cut you had yet to acknowledge, the cut on his bottom lip. Rafe looked at you, he knew what you were staring at and he broke the silence, “I’m all cleaned up now, (Y/N/N),” he tried to ease whatever you were feeling but you just shook your head, you knew he felt your hesitation.

“No, I don’t want you to get an infection or anything like that,” you assure him (and maybe yourself) as you grab the washcloth and run it under the warm tapwater one more time. You lean into him and gingerly dab at his lip.

“(Y/N/N)?” Rafe mumbles.

“Why are you talking when I am trying to clean this giant-ass cut in your lip?” You say somewhat exacerbated, and lean back just enough so you can look him in the eyes. His face flushes and he averts his eyes from meeting your gaze.

“I just was gonna say that you have a really cute concentration face.”

“Is that all?” You ask as you start to lean back in, he nods, and you bring the washcloth back up to his lip, dabbing at the cut a few more times before going to lean back from the very close proximity you had found yourself in, placing the washcloth down. You’re about to move completely from your position between his legs when you remember his words from earlier. A flush overtakes your face and Rafe notices, “what?” he inquires with his eyebrows raised and his lips parted. Before you can talk yourself out of your moment of confidence, you lean back into him, your faces mere centimeters apart, you move your gaze from your focus on his lips up to meet his eyes.

“What are you doing?” He whispers, following your lead and leaning in so your noses touch.

You lean, lips grazing his as you whisper, “kissing your boo-boos, Romeo.” Your eyes fluttered shut as you felt him press his lips against yours, desperate for more, and you were tempted to give in, but you pulled back which elicited a groan from the bruised boy on your counter. You brought your hand up to his cheek and he leaned into your touch as your thumb gently stroked his cheek, he brought his hand up to cradle your face in the same manner, you bit your lip, trying to suppress the grin that his touch brought to you. He noticed this quirk of yours and traced his fingers down your face and traced along your lip, making you release the bite you had on it, “don’t hide that pretty smile from me.” He now held your chin in his hands as you smile at his comment. You slowly retract your hand from the place it has found cradling his face, which brings a frown to his features but you just place a peck to his lips as you grab his hands in yours, giving them a slight tug before you drop them from your grasp you back into your bedroom. You sit on your bed, leaning against your headboard as you watch him slowly make his way to you, climbing onto your bed. He shimmies his body about on the bed, making you laugh, “Hey don’t laugh at me I am trying to get comfy, and it’s hard to do when you’re sitting up like that! What do you think you’re doing? We just kissed, it’s snuggle time.”  

You shake your head at him, but he just continues to look up at you from his position laying sprawled out on your bed. Rafe lets out a small cheer as you slink down on the bed, the two of you lay there for a moment, just laying down and looking at each other before you lean in and place a kiss to his forehead, to both his cheeks and then to his lips, your hands reaching up to comb through his hair making a content hum come from him, “babe, I’ll play with your hair if you lay your head on my stomach.” He smiles as the two of you adjust, you laying on you back while he scoots down to rest his head on your stomach, his hands playing with the tulle of your dress, “I like that,” he says before you even have the chance to run your fingers through his sandy blond locks. You giggle, “like what? I haven’t even touched your hair, yet.”

“No, I liked you calling me “babe”.”

“I can do that, right?”

“I would think so, you’re my girlfriend now, right?”

“Hmmm, I don’t know about that. Only if you’re my boyfriend now.”

“Okay, I would like that very much.”

“Babe.” You said, liking the way it rolled off your tongue.

This prompted Rafe to prop his head up on your tummy, “what?” he asks.

“Oh, nothing I just wanted to see if it worked.”

“You know there are a few other things that we can see if they work.”

“One step at a time, babe.” He giggled and then moved his head back to its previous position so you could continue playing with his hair.

After a few minutes of comfortable silence, he spoke up, “so like does this make me your favorite Cameron sibling, now?”

a/n: so that’s all folks, i wasn’t planning on doing any more parts to this story, i hope you enjoyed it! it is my first fic so i would really appreciate any feedback you have! also a huge shoutout to angie, i would not have written this without her support ((:

taglist:

@myjjbaby @drewswannabegirl @prejudic3 @starkeybaby @spicybluelays @fav-imagines  @spilledtee  @pookie-cleary  @little-ms-awkward @babygurlbarnes  @drewsephsmiles  @junkiemuppettxx

#time to do a week worth of econ homework in an hour #teehee #i need to learn time management #i hope this doesnt suck lol #also when i said feedback i meant nicely worded feedback dont hurt me im fragile #anyways back to the regularly scheduled tags #drew starkey #rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #rafe x reader #rafe cameron obx #rafe cameron outer banks #rafe cameron imagine #rafe imagine #obx imagine #outer banks imagine #my writing

[samanthasroberts]

The Great Dying: Happiness Comes on Day Five

My family has come to Hawaii.

Hawaii, like an aging model, is still gorgeousjust sometimes in a fragile, wasted way.

My parents were here a long time ago; they came on their honeymoon, back in the Old World times. They bought a hotel-and-airfare package to Honolulu. They went scuba diving in the coral reefs and touched real rays and even one dolphin, they said.

Of course thats not an option anymore, but you can snorkel all you like in fiberglass reefs stocked with colorful farmed parrotfish and now and then a robot shark.

I love the parrotfishs bulgy, fat lips.

Lydia Millet

About

Lydia Millet is an American novelist and conservationist. Her third novel, My Happy Life, won the 2003 PEN Center USA Award for fiction, and she has been a finalist for the Pulitzer Prize as well as a Guggenheim fellow. Her newest novel for young readers, The Bodies of the Ancients, comes out in January. The Great Dying is adapted from her YA book Pills and Starships, published by Akashic.

Back then, they ate at restaurants with views of sparkling aqua-blue bays; they went to luaus and drank fancy drinks with paper umbrellas. (We still have those; some of them have my parents names printed on them, from a honeymoon party that was held for them. robert & sara, says the faded writing, hawaii, may 2068.) They took small trips to the other islands, even the one that used to be a leper colony.

These days Honolulu and most of Oahu are seawall and salty aquifers and long, long blocks of abandoned buildings.

But they wanted Hawaii anyway. They were nostalgic. So this time we came to the Big Island, where were staying in a hotel with a view of Mauna Kea. Ive seen pictures of it from way back when, white at the top and majestic. Theres never snow anymore, even at 14,000 feet, but the volcano still looms.

Its just the four of us: my mother and my father, my little brother, and me. Its the four of us here for our last week.

A week is the period the companies usually suggest, once you finalize dates. Any longer and customers can get morbid, or even, if they decide to refuse their pharma, hysterical. And then the whole thing collapses. Any shorter and theres not enough time for good-byes.

My parents arent even that old. My mother had me in her late sixties, and two years later she had Samand though theyre vigorous and healthy on a physical level, on an emotional level theyve decided theyre done.

This would be harder without the training we did at home, without the pharma regimen they have us on. Even with those tools its still intense and vibrant, and everything seems inflected with meaning. Cursed with meaning, almost. Meaning attaches itself to everyday objectstoothbrushes, swimsuits, dangly earrings. Here in the hotel suite, I look at these normal items and everything seems like it portends something.

We just got here and already were on the brink of tears at times, or at least my mother and I are. My father and Sam are trying to act stoic, though now and then I catch one of their hands or a bottom lip trembling.

Meanwhile the edges of objects glow, blur, and fade as I look at them. They all seem permeable or aliveas though the aliveness of objects is there to compensate for my parents being ready to die.

I dont think its the pharma thats doing it, either. Sam and I arent even on a full pill regimen yet. On Day Four well have the option of a powerful tranquilizing blend: Thats Good-Bye Day. They like the contract holders to have their memories intact to say good-bye, because the fifth days pharmathe last pharmacauses forgetfulness. It brings on a long-term memory loss that wipes all memories associated with trauma, so they go out happy.

Happiness comes on Day Five.

Its early afternoon. My parents and my brother have gone out for a walk, and from the balcony of our suite I can see them strolling, their light clothes flapping in the breeze off the ocean, on a trail along the high jagged bluffs.

They carry umbrellas that protect them from the sun but also hide their faces from me. They could be anyone.

The bluffs were well engineered and have been planted to look wild, in a fake way. There are scrubby bushes from the desert, South American cacti and Chinese beach roses (according to the brochure) and even, now and then, dune grasses and sand. They hide the concrete seawall beneath the artificial bluffs so that you dont have to remember where you are or whenso you can almost forget youre not in Old Hawaii. Forget, in other words, that youre living at the tiny tail end of the fire-breathing dragon of our history.

The company my parents chose is a midsize outfit that likes to boast how it hires locals. So our rep, when it came down to it, was a lady my mother had once played golf with.

My mother isnt the golf type at all, by the way. She barely knows how to play, but one time she competed in a small-golf game for charityits mostly small golf these days, unless you have huge money to throw away on travel to one of the big courses, plus water-use finesand because she had a good sense of humor, at least till recently, she was basically the comic relief, I think.

But that one day was when she first met the rep, Jean.

Jean showed up at our apartment a couple of months ago, in the hour before dinnertime when we usually hang out together and talk about our day and stuff. The four of us were drinking cocktails in the living room. Being 15, Sam doesnt drink that much yet, but my mother had offered him a junior can of wheat beer.

And there she was at the doora compact, middle-aged woman from the 10th floor, frosted hair, braided wedge heels. Id seen her in the elevator once or twice.

This is Jean, said my mother softly. Jean, these are our children, Nat and Sam.

My name is Natalie, but I go by Nat.

The woman smiled and sat down and looked at us with a gentle but still oddly businesslike expression.

Your parents thought it might be good to have me here is how she started in.

Sam looked up right away. Hed been reading off his device.

Youre service, he said flatly.

I do work with a service company, said Jean.

She didnt miss a beat and didnt seem awkward; she had a forthright attitude without being domineering.

Youre the counselor, or whatever they call them, said Sam.

Im coordinating the personal aspect of outreach, conceded Jean.

On the contract we purchased recently, put in my mother, soft-voiced. Mine and your fathers.

Sam picked up his beer and drank most of the rest of it, a flush rising on his skin.

I had been sitting at the bay window, looking out over the garden. Our apartment complex was nice, with trees and water features and little striped chipmunks, because chipmunks always poll higher than squirrels.

Anyway, I liked to drink and take in the view.

But then, without really noticing my own movement, I turned so I was facing the room, my back against the view of the trees. In the pit of my stomach was a heavy new stone. At the same time my arms and legs felt light and liquid, like the bones in them had softened.

Why didnt you tell me? was the thing I said.

Were telling you now, sweetheart, said my mother, coming to sit beside me on the ledge. She put one arm around my shoulders. Its all according to schedule. The timing is what they recommend.

They encourage the parents not to get emotive when theyre disclosing. It only makes things worse. So my mother sat there next to me, her arm on my shoulders light, keeping a kind of professional attitude. With her free hand, she shook the cubes in her glass and raised it to drink.

My father stood facing us all with his tumbler of whiskey. His face bore a kind, bemused expression, as it used to when Sam or I would cry and he had no idea how to stop it.

You can still take it back, said Sam, with a kind of hurt urgency. Please, MomDad! Take it back!

Honey, said my mother, we dont want to. Or maybe a better way to say it is that we weve lived for you two ever since the tipping point, sweetheart. Youve been whats kept us going.

The tipping point was when we couldnt do anything more to stop the planets runaway warming. There were feedback loops in the climate system, like the albedo effect and water vapor increase in the atmosphere and plankton die-off in the oceans. So even though wed stopped emitting so much carbon and methane, we couldnt stop the seas or the temperature from rising. At least for a few centuries.

Both of you are practically grown up, said my mother. And when it comes right down to it, you dont really need usnot in the day-to-day sense. You think you do, maybe. But we know deep down that you can take care of yourselves. And you will.

You cant say what were feeling, said Sam, shaking his head. Only what you are.

It helps, for peace of mind, said Jean to Sam, if you keep argumentation for later. During this encounter, this time of disclosure, weve found that what allows for peacefulness is just listening.

Fuck listening! said Sam.

He was bright redlike someone had dealt him two slaps, one on each cheek.

And really, went on Jean calmly, as though he hadnt said anything, theres no rush here. Theres plenty of time. Remember, all contracts are voidable right up until the end. So theres absolutely nothing to make you nervous.

She didnt mention what we all knew: that theres a stiff financial penalty for last-minute cancellations. She didnt need to. My parents knew a couple whod canceled just five hours before their contract was about to start, but at that point it cost like 90 percent of the full price. And they ended up buying a new contract a couple of months later. That meant less money for the survivorsa tainted legacy.

But youre doing so well, begged Sam, turning to my mother.

I felt frozen.

Youre doing really well, youve got your moods well stabilized lately, he added.

No, yeah, son, said my father. Well were not too bad off. Were not personally complaining. We feel so lucky, compared to lots of people. No question. And you knowits not any one big thing. You know? Its not a dramatic situation, theres no particular, exact catalyst here. But we feel like, for one, heywhy not quit while were still ahead? You know, leave while weve got our health. And theres still no impairment. We all saw how Mamie got after she passed 100.

Youll be all right. You have such great resilience, added my mother. Wewe think youre very strong.

Oh please, said Sam.

Try to see it from our point of view, my father said. When we were young, there were still big animals swimming all over the oceans. The rivers and the forests had all this life in them, not just the squirrels and pigeons. You could go anywhere in the worldwe drove a gas-burning car when we were young. We flew on huge airplanes. Whenever we wanted to!

My parents keep thinking, somehow, that one day well hear about how different the world used to be and for the first time well understand them.

But isnt the world always different for the kids than it was for the parents? Sure, maybe its more different now. We get it.

But this is the only world we ever knew.

For Old World people like us, you know, said my mother, weve had as much as we can take of seeing everything go away. And we dont think we can bear towhat happens if, if it keeps going how we think it will.

Of course, we hope and pray it wont, said my father staunchly, tossing back the last of his whiskey. We figure, go early, while everythingswhile theres still hope. You know.

But I knew what he wasnt saying: They couldnt stand to see our future. They couldnt stand to watch us struggle.

Its never an easy decision, put in Jean.

Not helpful, I thought.

But then, the companies put the counselors in the room partly to deflect the family members feelings. Or fears and tears, as they say.

Your mother is so tired, Sam, said my father. He was fiddling with a pile of black and green olives on a tray. The olives were stacked in a pyramid, like in a picture Id once seen of ancient cannonballs. They should have been a tipoff that this was a special occasion, so to speak, because olives arent the kind of food we get every day. We both are, if Im perfectly honest, he added.

We sat there for a while, not knowing what to say.

Eventually Jean suggested we take a walk outside, through the courtyards of the complex. Walks are popular with service companies. Low-cost momentum, I guess, and a natural mood boost.

So we prepared ourselves fresh drinks, mostly in awkward silence, and took them with us into the elevator. We gazed outside as the car descended.

The elevators in our complex are external and made of a shaded glass, so you can see the sky and then the buildings below it, and as you drop, the trees in the courtyard come up to meet you.

Down through the green canopy, down along the tree trunks. Finally we landed facing the rock gardens, the fountains and splashing waterfalls of perfectly reclaimed sewage.

What a nice evening, said my mother, and we looked up dutifully at the fading bands of red and yellow in the western sky.

One thing we do have, in the New World, is beautiful sunsets.

I think what put my parents over the edge was a trip they took a few months ago, a light-rail weekender to the place where my father grew up. It wasnt a coastal town in the strict senseit wasnt right on the beachbut it was on a river delta, maybe 20 miles from where the true coast used to be. When the first storm surges came that couldnt be stopped by seawalls, the town got an influx of coastal refugees. Wave after wave followed, though most of the people didnt stay. Back then they were migrating to places like Ogallala, with fertile land or thick forests. If you look at an old map animation, you can see the masses moving away from the coasts, inward and upward from New York and Florida, from Southern California and the dying cities of the desertLas Vegas and Phoenix, say. The animations look like storms or vast, sky-darkening flocks of birds.

Sometimes, at home, I take a mild mood softener, sit at my screen, and gaze at the animations dreamily. You can customize them to show whatever details you wantthe continent shrinking as the oceans rise plus the massive migrations. I also like to watch the building of the seawalls. You see the swamping of Cape Cod, the swallowing up of the Florida Keys. Islands all over the oceans contract to the size of pinheads, then vanish. You can zoom way out and watch the planet rotate, see the surges of ocean that followed the melting of the ice.

Theres something lovely about it, lovely like Eno or Mozart, thoughespecially without pharmait can be sad.

Anyway, my fathers hometown had been leveled by the waves of refugee camps. Nothing was left of the houses and gardens of his leafy street, the school he walked to holding his younger brothers hand, the swing sets and climbing gyms at the park where he played. All that was gonethe whole town had turned to tent cities and landfills and fields of composting toilets.

My dads baby brother died a while back, a do-it-yourself deal. He hated the service companies. So other than us, my dad has no family left.

For a while after that weekend trip, he and my mother were so quiet that sometimes we forgot they were there.

Before we left for Hawaii, my parents helped Sam and me move to a group facility for survivors who arent old enough to live alone. The two of us will go back there after the trip, to live for a few months till I turn 18.

Then, the morning we left, Sam and I picked them up to catch the boat that brought us here. That was the worst. The apartment where we had lived was bare. Their luggage stood in a neat row against the wall, small cases packed with only bedrolls, some toiletries, and a few clothes. It was a shock to see the sterile whiteness of what used to be home.

Well, said my mother, turning back to cast a glance at the empty living room as we were filing out the front door, good-bye, everything.

Sams coming up the path again toward the hotel building, so close hes almost beneath meI see the circle of his shiny white umbrella. My parents arent with him. I squint: I can still see the two of them, out at the edge of the cliff.

The oceans turning anoxic, scientists say. Its what happened 250 million years ago in the Great Dying, otherwise known as the P-T extinction eventthe biggest mass die-off in Earths history. And now its happening again. The seawaters turned more acid from the carbon its storing, so the ocean food chain has mostly collapsed. Big burps of methane are bubbling out of the water along the continental shelves.

Where there used to be corals and whales and sea lions and seahorses, now theres mostly bacteria and archaea and viruses. The odd school of mutated jellyfish. Plus the garbage vortex and the chemical streams.

But still, Mom and Dad stand at the edge of the bluff, their arms around each others waists, and look out over the faraway waves like anything could be therelike those waves might still be the glittering roof of a marvelous underwater country.

The Fiction Issue

Tales From an Uncertain Future

Read More

.end-bug { background: url(https://www.wired.com/wp-content/plugins/feature-story-builder/builder-frontend/assets/images/w.png) no-repeat; background-size: 16px; width: 16px; height: 16px; }

Source: http://allofbeer.com/2017/11/14/the-great-dying-happiness-comes-on-day-five/

from All of Beer https://allofbeer.wordpress.com/2017/11/14/the-great-dying-happiness-comes-on-day-five/