Chapter Twenty-One: Strawberries & Cream
August 2006
She looks fine.
In that totally manic, fake way that apparently only you can see through.
But that’s still ‘fine’, right?
Right?
“She seems ok. Doesn’t she? She’s alright? Ok? Fine?”
On the bed behind you Leah snorts in both amusement and real pain. “This means nowt to you, does it?” Andrew sighs impatiently as she holds up the hand he’s been trying to bandage, “Ouch!”
“It wouldn’t hurt so much if you’d just stop moving it!” He whines, pulling her wrist back.
You skirt a little closer to the edge of the balcony, from here you can see Faith’s back only just down to her waist- where Rosy is perched. Hopefully no one will look up and you’ll have enough time to move out of sight if she turns round. “God, that’s an awful haircut.” It barely brushes her shoulders- that awkward length where it’s growing out- and choppy like she’s cut it herself. Which she probably has.
“Buffy, y’ girlfriend just crushed m’hand wit a handshake- and din’t notice- I think she got more on her mind than her hair.”
What happened to ‘Ma’am’? Ok, so it made you sound old, but they gave you a lot less sass while they were calling you by it. “She’s not my girlfriend.” You reply absently around a strawberry.
The two of them scoff.
“So… why are y’ hidin’ up here?” She drawls out in that weird Scottish accent that means you only understand every other word.
“I’m not hiding!” The room needs cleaning! It’s pretty and all but half of it’s coated in miscellaneous baby stuff. Oddly the only part clear of clutter is the cot. Which is fine- just because Rose is nine months old now doesn’t mean she can’t sleep in your huge, empty bed!
“Y’ spent six weeks non-stop organising t’ party then Kennedy tells y’ she’s bringin’ Faith and suddenly it’s y’ room that needs the sortin’. That’s called ‘avoidance’.”
Andrew nods, “It’s true.”
You watch Kennedy, and her stupid, straightened hair, step out from behind a stall and wrap a long arm around Faith.
You’d always thought of her as extraordinarily short, for no reason other than you dislike her. Now though, she seems to stretch on for centuries with… really attractive legs.
If they were a little less skinny.
Stupid enabler!
She can’t be all ‘drugs are bad; don’t let Faith near them!’ and then run off with her to Columbia… or wherever it is they make cocaine. Now they’ve come back with matching hair and enlarged pupils. At least Willow isn’t here, she wouldn’t just glare at Faith she’d do all the things you’re wishing would happen to Kennedy to her.
“Kennedy is so watered down… She’s like a less exciting Faith. Or a brattier me. God I hope Rose doesn’t grow up into her.”
“If you hate her so much, why’d you give her a job?”
You look Andrew up and down like he’s an idiot- which he is. Obviously he’s never been in hate with someone before. “Just keeping my enemies closer than my friends.”
It had actually ached your gut to not laugh watching her get excited about her promotion. Not quite as excited about the job as Xander and Faith had been, but as they were both spawn of abusive alcoholics suffering from chronic underemployment (unless you counted prostitution- which you don’t) their enthusiasm was to be expected. And as an employee she received an invitation to the school’s summer fair. Which is either good or very, very bad.
Leah frowns, both at you and the strawberries she’s trying to skewer with one hand, “Y’ no’ going t’ walk her into an accident, are ya?”
“I can’t promise that.”
“There’s really no reason to hate her- I’m pretty sure they haven’t progressed to a relationship yet, just sex.”
“Andrew, do you think if I sew your lips shut you’ll be quiet or should I just go ahead and rip out your throat?”
The two of them skirt back further onto the bed, “Just saying!”
“Well don’t!”
In the garden below, Faith lifts Rosy over her head and does that cute jiggle-the-baby-until-it-giggles thing. Her shoulder blades jut out unattractively.
“She looks… she’s…”
“Pretty sure ‘f someone sneezes near her she’ll snap in half.”
Faith doesn’t worry about ‘girlie’ things like her appearance particularly- which leaves you to do it for her. She’s never had the best relationship with her weight; she ignores it and it… runs off for a holiday.
Or some other equally disgusting imagery.
The point being, she gets a cold and drops ten pounds.
She’s wearing a tea-dress, which, despite the fact it’s unusually appropriate, looks pretty grotesque on her. Through the bright colour and pattern you can almost see her ribs- and that’s from this distance! Her arms look like thin twigs attached to the muscles Slayer Healing diverts all her food to.
“I know, right? I mean, when was the last time she ate.” Andrew bitches in his best Valley Girl accent and a scarily good impression of you when you were fifteen.
“Are you done using my bandages yet?” As if there was only the one set in the castle! “Thank you for the strawberries though.”
“Oh they were Sats…u… uh, you’re welcome?”
Great, just great- she sent them up here as her little spies! You are so going to kick her ass when you see-! Oh crap. Leaning over the balcony to try and find her so you could summon her up here and out spill your angry raging was… almost definitely not your brightest idea.
Kennedy glares at you harder. “Oh bollocks. Kennedy saw me.”
Andrew replies with a Japanese swearword and then shrugs when Leah snorts, “I thought it was more situation-appropriate.”
“She’s not shaggin’ Sassy y’numpty! I’d know- we share a room.”
“Doesn’t matter if she is or not- just what Kennedy’s telling Faith.”
They pull stupid faces at each other like little kids trying to gross each other out. A quick smack with a pillow shuts them both up pretty quickly. Leah clutches her sore hand, “There’s a reason y’ name rhymes w’ ‘stuffy’!”
“My mom wanted a puppy?”
“If I had a puppy I’d call it Fifi.” Andrew, the boy gay-jokes were possibly invented from, muses.
“Faith wants a puppy.” Well, Faith wants a lot of things, a puppy is just one of them…
Stupid guilt train.
“I just want a happy ending.”
They make puking noises, “You’re so corny.”
Unlike Leah, Andrew is refreshingly uncynical. If there were such a word. “It’s going to be ok. Faith goes down but she always comes back up.”
“What if this time she doesn’t?”
Leah sighs, reluctant to be drawn into this conversation “She’s ‘your girl’, Buff. She always comes back. Y’ put her in coma, sent her t’ prison and dumped her jus’ because y’ friends wanted y’ to. But she still came back.”
“I’ve really got to stop letting Dawn tell you things...” They have become the epitome of ‘creepy best friends’; finishing each other’s sentences, joined at the hip, near-actually able to read each other’s minds... attracted to the same boys but not minding. It’s not that you think Leah isn’t a sweet girl but she wouldn’t have been the type you’d expect your baby sister to be friends with- too cocky and mature.
But she’s not such a ‘baby’ sister anymore- now she’s self assured and achingly clever. Dawn starts at Oxford University this fall; you already think she’ll fit right in. You couldn’t be prouder if it was in any way your doing.
Xander’s asking Faith a question, something about which drink she wants, as if she can actually make a decision right now. “Just give her the damn orange juice!”
“What?” Leah asks, making the word sound so much like ‘och’ you have to batter down a smile.
“Nothing, just… stupid Xander, trying to make Faith choose between drinks.” As if she can concentrate right now.
Kennedy has sloped off somewhere, but even without seeing her you can still feel her eyes burning holes in your soul. Or that might not be Kennedy.
“Any idea why Rowena is giving me the Glare From The Back Of Beyond?”
“She lost a lot of money on you?”
“Andrew!” Leah growls, her accent getting thicker as she yells, “Wha’ part o’ ‘secret’ do y’ not understand?”
You shrug for him, “The part that says ‘secret bet to see how long it is before Buffy dumps Faith’? Though that’s kind of sweet- that she thought we’d last. I was beginning to think she didn’t like me.”
The two of them share a disappointed look, “She doesn’t. It was a bet to see which one o’ y’ would give up on parenting first.” Leah shakes her head, “She lost.”
“Oh. Ok. Kind of dislike her too now.”
A throat clears from behind you, “With you it’s generally mutual.”
“Kennedy…”
It’s not, actually, mutual- no matter how jealous you are or how much you might claim to hate her. She’s still an unpleasant monster of course but she’s Faith’s best friend and… sometime bedfellow. Point being, she’s there for her and you respect that.
“You crawled out of your hole because…?” She sneers at your tone.
“You sent me an invite.” Oh. Yeah.
“I wasn’t thinking straight!”
Leah snorts, “We know.” Then shrinks back as you glare. “Sorry. Satsu said it was ok.”
“Don’t listen to her!”
So you’ve got your own ‘creepily close’ best friend –that doesn’t mean it’s ok for her to go around telling people everything! And by ‘people’ you do of course mean ‘her other best friend’… does that mean that because Satsu is your best friend and Leah is her best friend and Dawn is hers that there’s some kind of weird, incestuous friendship square going on here? Or would you need to be best friends with Dawn too? Can the word ‘incestuous’ be used about something other than sex?
Do you really, really need to calm down?
And is it weird that you’d invite Faith with the intention of never actually seeing her- just checking that she’s ok?
For nine months her blood ran through your veins- you’re her only family over the age of one.
“Buffy,” The hair rises on your arms as Kennedy clutches them. “At least go and see her. Without you all she does is vacillate from-”
“I don’t want to hear about your weird sex parties, ok?!”
“-One extreme to the… other… what? ‘Vacillate’ doesn’t… how did you ever graduate high school?” She glowers at you like a stern teacher to a very stupid child. “And also- sex? Parties? Ha! All she does is sleep! I had to pump her full of caffeine just to get her out of bed this morning!”
Something about her just makes you want to smack her. “Well you shouldn’t have bothered- I don’t want to see her!”
“I didn’t bring her for you!” She spits, “I did it for Rose- that little kid who deserves to see her mother.”
Kennedy is still holding onto your arms, her grip only just the pleasant side of bruising. You scowl defiantly back at her, knowing your face looks nothing more than petulant and not entirely caring.
“It’s been three months, you’ve made your point.”
“I’m not ‘making a point’- I’m taking control of my life back!” Not that you really want it at this point.
“If a life without Faith means having control then you’ve been playing with your hands tied behind your back since you were fifteen!”
‘Disarming’. How very ‘Faith’. You remember those few weeks, way back when you’d just started to warm to the interloper and before your own nightmares of stakes and humans made you push her away… She’d smile at you with those twinkling eyes and press careless kisses to your cheeks and lips, forgetting all her premature sexual prowess in the crush she was lost in.
You’d been just as bad; stealing her favourite pullover because you knew that it was actually her only one and she’d have to ask for one of yours (because you wanted her to be reminded of you constantly… and hers fit so snugly under your pillow). Despite being on academic probation she’d stolen you from classes, first with a paper trail of notes around the school and the promise of crazy stories and then with a hastily drawn heart on a windowpane.
“I met Faith when I was seventeen.”
“Oh, who cares?!” Kennedy grouses, mistaking your sorrow for rejection, “It’s been… uh…”
You roll your eyes, “Seven years. Your math is as bad as mine.” To be honest, you could probably tell her to the day but that seems a little excessive when you’re pretending not to care.
“Whatever. Point is, it’s been a long time! Buffy, please, you’ve got to take her back.”
You sigh and finally pull yourself away from Kennedy’s grip. Why is she always asking you things you can’t answer? “I can’t.”
“You have to! You know that without you it gets worse.”
“I know, and I’m sorry, but I can’t have her affecting Rosy like that.”
“It’s hard for her-”
“Yeah, well it’s hard for me too!”
Why does nobody get that? It’s all ‘help Faith’, ‘save Faith’- what about ‘help Rosy’? ‘Save Rosy’? They’re all so frightened to mention it and you’re terrified that as soon as they do, it’ll be real. She’s sick, ill, whatever. ‘Failure to thrive’, the doctor said, shaking his head, ‘but we can’t find any medical reason.’
Of course they couldn’t. Your life just isn’t that simple.
But it’s not all about Rose- you’re a person too! You deserve some down time, those few blissful hours when Satsu is taking care of Rose or she’s finally asleep and you can just curl up in the big armchair by the TV and watch hours of mindless dross. Because you can.
“I can’t love her and love myself. She’s…” What? Everything. Too much.
It starts to rain. The little girls outside in their pretty dresses squeal and run for cover. Their parents look around in concern, still too unsure about this world to know for sure whether or not the downpour is demonic. Andrew jumps into action, jamming the French doors closed like a fussy housewife, upset about the rugs. He doesn’t even live here anymore!
Kennedy pulls at her form-fitting tweed dress, the only person warm enough to not have a coat wrapped around her. You hope Satsu can wrestle Rosy away from Faith long enough to put yet another layer of baby-clothes on her.
“You’re good for her.”
“And she’s bad for me. It’s pointless to keep doing this, it’s stupid and pointless and… I mentioned pointless right? I love her and I wish that it made a difference, that it mattered… but it doesn’t!” Leah and Andrew, reaching the pinnacle of ‘uncomfortable bystanders’ check the exit routes and jump when you circle around Kennedy, accidentally into their escape path. “Love doesn’t make the world go round, it doesn’t care for a baby or bring in a wage or… or support me when I need it because I’m drowning here Ken, ok? I’m drowning. I don’t know what I’m supposed to do. I just… I just wish my mom was here because suddenly I’m meant to be this- this adult with a baby and a job and a house and I need help! I need to look after Rosy and I need to look after myself. I can’t do that with her around.”
“So take her to the fucking doctor! Don’t go playing like some shitty little martyr, like this is all her fault and you’ve tried so damn hard with her! You give up! This is what you do! Every time she gets into one of her… her- every time she gets like this you run away! You leave her in a mess for other people to fix up and you run away.”
“Don’t you dare!” You snarl, “Don’t you dare talk to me like that! I’m the one who has to live with it! I keep coming back because I love her!”
You’re the one who got her off the drugs- both times! You’re the one who saved her from starving herself to death after killing Lady Guinevere! You’re the one who picked her over the closest thing you’ve ever had to family! You’re the one who’s life brought her back from the near death! You’re the one who visited her in prison even when Angel stopped going! You’re the one who sat by her hospital bed nearly every shitty day she was in that coma! You’re the one who wouldn’t give up when everyone else said she was evil! You’re the one who kissed her!
And you’re the one who fell in love with a beautiful fifteen year old, so full of energy she bounced; all grins and swishing hair, clever little innuendoes and tempting naughtiness.
You’re the one who has to watch that be destroyed by something you can’t even name.
Something you don’t want to. “Why don’t you take her?”
“What?”
“Why don’t you take her, Kennedy, if you want to know so fucking badly… why don’t you take her?”
The cold steel behind your voice scares her, it’s obvious, she looks so unsure suddenly, so afraid.
“Why don’t you take her to the doctors? Why don’t you see what drugs they’ll pump her full of? Why don’t you watch as they turn her into some lifeless drone and take away every good thing about her, every spark of life? Why don’t you?”
The three of them shift uneasily, unwilling to meet your eyes. You unexpectedly get the feeling that it’s not guilt they’re trying to hide from you but pity. Instead of anger you just feel drained.
Faith stands under the canopy, Rosy still wrapped in her arms, talking intently to her about something probably deep and profound, desperate for her daughter to have the start that she never did, to have the chances. The green dress sticks to her, soaked by the rain. You can see her hipbones and then, when she turns, her hollow cheeks and sunken eyes.
She catches your gaze and holds it, still speaking to Rose. When she moves to press a kiss to the child’s forehead your own aches in longing.
“Because I don’t want to know.”
