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Post by NELL DOE DALE on Dec 16, 2011 20:30:51 GMT -5
Nell craddled her phone between her ear and shoulder as she pulled the vinyl out of its casing, her eyes darting over the print. ”No, I don’t have anything planned,” she reassured her friend on the other line. ”You’re fucking awesome, all right, just call me tonigt so you can take me. Thank you, thank you, thank you!” Nell rolled her eyes good-naturedly. ”You’re going to give yourself an anneurysm.” She hung up, not knowing if she was actually excited for tonight’s plans. As much as she hated it, she didn’t get as excited about things as she used to. But she felt like she was getting better—at least, she hoped she was. Please let me get better. It wasn’t like babysitting with her friend after picking her up from work is going to be fun anyway, but she would at least enjoy the girl’s company and looking after her cousin. She was spending a lot of time around children, and it she believed it was good for her. Just seeing so much life and energy was kind of inspiring.
She picked up another vinyl—Rossini, it was—thinking of how she actually needed to get a record player so that the albums wouldn’t just be for decoration. They were collecting dust in an old orange crate. She was more collecting them for the sake of collecting them. It was something she’d started when she first knew something was wrong. At least I like them. It was better than collecting something that held no purpose or point. She would listen to the albums, trying to learn the Russian or French words. Italian and Spanish ones were easy enough, the former because it was so similar to the latter. She had most arias from Madama Butterfly and Los amores de la Inés memorized, and she was searching for the Spanish one at this point in time. Unfortunately, it didn’t seem that there wasn’t too wide a variety of opera vinyls there. There were more Led Zeppelin and The Beatles, and she was tempted to buy a few. You don’t really have the money.
Nell sighed as she put the Rossini back. Her last paycheck from the daycare went toward rent and bills that she was late on after being fired. She really did not have any money to spare. And it wasn’t even an option to spend her father’s money. She was not going to do that anymore, especially since she hadn’t spoken to him in weeks. I should call him. But her fear stopped her, as it always did. She didn’t know if she could do it, face the man. A part of her wanted a relationship with him, but she really didn’t know what kind of relationship. They would never have the bond that a father and daughter should share, no matter how much either of them tried. It just wasn’t possible. What else was there, then? How could they even get on anymore when she didn’t know where they stood with each other.
She took a sip from the coffee in her hand, a staple on these winter days. The red scarf around her neck was another one, and so was the black jacket she usually wore outside. She was just about to pay for the vinyls she had collected—it was an addiction, really—when she noticed a familiar face. ”Hola, Py,” she greeted cheerfully. She was in a relatively good mood considering, probably the fact that she had been talking to her friend before and that the records provided some sort of comfort to her. ”How are you doing?” she asked, tilting her head. It’s been a while since she had really spoken to him. She always liked to see a friend, however. Especially now that it felt like she was lacking in many. ”What brings you here?” She knew that the boy was into music, so it interested her to know what he was looking for. Or maybe he was getting a movie or something, she never knew.
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Post by lili3 on Dec 16, 2011 21:30:07 GMT -5
Pyson sat in the front seat of his Skyline parked outside the local coffee shop, his head was spinning with all the mess he'd gone through today, all in the name of pursuing the career he wanted so badly. He'd been looking over the contracts to be signed to have him start playing for the orchestra in just a few short weeks, it seemed like only yesterday that this was just an idea in the back of his head and now it was all coming true-- very quickly. He sighed softly and took a sip from the mocha in his hand, come to think of it, everything about his life seemed to be moving so fast these days, career, practices, school work, and on top of that he was moving to a new grade. He put the keys into the ignition and started the car, the low purr of the engine served to calm his nerves, but not as much as he'd like. He needed some sort of diversion, something out of the norm of his day to day routine.
It was not until he'd drove some time that he spotted the record store, he looked at the building while the traffic light was red, trying to think if he'd ever been inside. Deciding that he hadn't he pulled into the parking lot and let himself out into the bitter cold one more time, clinging onto the warm cup of coffee for dear life as he carefully rushed to the door-- not wanting to slip on a bit of ice or snow that the city crews hadn't gotten off the sidewalks. He pushed the door open and scanned the warm little music store and when he was satisfied with the atmosphere he made his way further inside. His first stop was the video rack, aside from music Py was a bit of a movie buff, so he had to see if there was anything new or interesting out for him to watch. Unfortunately nothing caught his eye, so he moved on. Straight past the CD racks and back to the vinyls on the wall. He absolutely loved these things because no matter how good the masters of classical piano sounded digitally remastered on CD's, for some reason they always sounded better-- and more authentic, on the vinyls.
He was deep in thought, his pale gaze flipping quickly past all the new pop albums, and even some of the older classic rock, pausing here and there to look at the albums with interesting cover arts. No, he knew what he was looking for, though he was almost positive he wasn't going to find it. He jumped a little when he heard a voice from behind him, he had been so focused he hadn't been paying attention to much of anything else around him. He stood up straight, his back just slightly stiff from being bent over the rack for so long, and turned to look and see who'd called him by name.
His eyes fell on Nell, automaticly his expression went blank. He'd heard through the inevitable gossip lines of the academy about her trial, at first he'd been happy that she'd gotten the charges dropped, but then he realized what she'd done. Kept secrets, lied, and to his face. His heart sank when he saw her, he'd loved this girl like a sister, even if she didn't know it. But now all he felt for her was.. Well he wasn't sure what he felt. He turned back to put his attention on the records again. He felt a lump swell in his throat, he hated the feeling. But no matter how much distaste he had for a person, in this case Nell, he couldn't bring himself to be outright rude to her. Not for now at least. "Oh.." He paused for a second, moving to the next section. "Hi Nell." His greeting was short and curt, not warm like he'd usually receive her.
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Post by NELL DOE DALE on Dec 16, 2011 23:27:22 GMT -5
Nell had been expecting a warmer reception from Pyson. After all, she considered him a good friend. Her mind didn’t instantly go to the information that he may have known, because she wasn’t sure if he was maybe having an off day, or if she’d simply surprised him. The expression on his face and the tone could have meant anything. She didn’t want to become a suspiciously paranoid person, always wondering what people were thinking of her, what they may have known about her. Information of her life was like a book or a song in the free domain, and anyone had access to it. At times she tried to forget about it—it just wasn’t worth working herself up about all the time. At times she let it affect her, the fact that the reason some friends didn’t return calls, the reason she’d dropped contact with so many people, was because of her history and the fact that a murderer who lied to them wasn’t the safest person to trust. Nell didn’t want to think about that.
Still, she didn’t know how to receive Pyson’s brusque response, in which he didn’t answer her question. ”Something up?” she questioned, just worried if he was troubled, not wanting to jump to conclusions and considering that he may have known more than he should. There may have been a lot going on in his life that she didn’t know about. Everyone had pressure, stress, fear—sometimes people just had an off-day. That’s why whenever she got a cold reception from people in the same vein as Pyson, she didn’t let her mind jump to the bad things. She just assumed that they were dealing with some personal issues. Of course, she would never pry. If Pyson didn’t answer, she would just drop it and leave it there. She was courteous enough for that—especially to her friends—and she didn’t want him to feel pressured. Maybe he had a test on his mind? He’s a senior now right? She liked to remember things like that, and so she asked, ”How’s senior year going for ya?” Always amiable, always smiling. She had to be.
Instead of asking her questions again, she started with a new topic, hefting the records in her arm like a child, since her other held a cup of coffee. ”Looking for anything specific?” she questioned, as if she actually worked there. She didn’t really know who ran the place, even though it would have been a good place to consider for a job. Nell was just happy with the daycare. It was rather easy for her, even though the children could be as wild as chipmunks on speed. Her lips almost twitched into a smile thinking about it. Her kids really did make her happy, at least happier than she’d been as of late. Or maybe it’s good old Prozac? She really couldn’t tell at this point, and was afraid that her moods may have been so influenced by the drugs that she wasn’t actually getting better on her own. The anti-depressants were just giving her a high, something to get her through the day, and she didn’t want that. She wanted a permanent fix, something that would last. ”Maybe I could help?” Hey, she was good with customer service. She’d worked at a bar for a year, you get used to dealing with people. And besides, she liked dealing with people. It wasn’t a challenge or irritating to her. Even if people were acting like Pyson. She didn’t put too much thought into it. Just an off day.
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