Sophinisba Solis (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
sophinisba) wrote2006-07-11 09:54 pm
sophinisba) wrote2006-07-11 09:54 pm
Five Things that Never Happened to Stokely Mitchell, 5: Getting Kinda Used To It
Finished! All parts on the Stokely tag.
Part 5, mostly gen, PG
5.
That's Madelyn, her second, getting on the bus with her big sister Jenny to go to kindergarten for the first time, smiling as she waves goodbye. And Sally, with the baby in one arm, waves back, happy for her little girl, heading off to make new friends and learn what her teachers have to tell her.
She's happy for Maddie, for both of them, but it hurts a little too, seeing them grow up so fast. In another few years little Michael will be leaving too, and then Sally will have all day to herself here at home. And that will be all right too, Lord knows she has enough work to keep her busy, but it's a little sad to think about. She doesn't like to think of getting older, or of being alone.
Then Michael's talking, babbling at her in his own baby language and looking at her with big brown eyes like she ought to understand, and it makes her laugh out loud and lift him up in the air. And she's happy again to live in this present, to raise her children, to love and be loved.
This is the good life, Sally thinks. She's ended up exactly where she's supposed to be. And everyone she knows feels the same way. Most of the world has been brought around by now; almost everyone's found the same peace and contentment Sally and Stan have. Every once in a while you hear rumors, but Sally really can't understand why anyone wouldn't want a life like this. Sure, she has moments of restlessness, times when she wonders how things could have gone differently, but that's only normal. And it always passes quickly enough. Really, she thinks, as she feeds her beautiful baby boy, what more could a woman ask for than this?
A few hours later she's put Michael down for a nap, and when the mail comes, to her surprise, there's a letter for her. Stranger still, it's not addressed to Mrs. Stan Rosado but to Stokely Mitchell! Mitchell is a name she hasn't used in ten years, since she married Stan, and she stopped using Stokely the year before that, back in her senior year of high school, just after she started going out with Stan. (Her new friend Delilah, who'd also helped her come up with simpler, more elegant look, had suggested the change.) There's no return address, but the stamps have funny writing on them and the postmark is from Bombay.
She looks at the envelope while she's still standing on the doorstep, and April Hansen from next door waves hello. Sally smiles, waves, decides to step inside before she opens the letter. She takes it out, unfolds the paper, and reads,
She folds it up again. And for no reason she can understand, she goes into the bathroom and locks the door.
Stokely, she thinks, the woman you used to be, the woman you could have become. So funny of him to keep repeating that name over and over again. Casey always was such a strange boy. Such a surprise to hear from him; she always had wondered where he and Zeke had gotten away to.
Stokes. People used to call her that. A sullen girl, with dark clothes and too much eye make-up. An unhappy girl, back in high school, before she started going out with Stan. Sally tries to remember the books Casey says she used to read, tries to understand why such unlikely and unlikable things would have interested her. And why would Casey think she'd want to go back to that, or give up what she has now? Her marriage to Stan, her three beautiful children, her beautiful house? Why would anyone want to leave Herrington? Why would anyone want to resist this?
It's not completely hopeless. Well, of course it's not! She shakes her head, thinking Casey must be confused and misguided, but he shouldn't be held to blame for anything that's happened. He and Zeke must have had a hard time of it, all these years on the run. They really don't need any more trouble, and Casey was always a good friend before he went away, so she won't bother to say anything to Stan about it. Or to her friends, April or Delilah or Marybeth. Best she not mention it to anyone at all, come to think of it.
It's probably best if Stan doesn't see the letter either, she decides (and the decision surprises her, because it's not like her to keep anything from him). She looks down at the paper in her hands and reads the phone number at the bottom. It's only ten digits long, and she always was good at noticing and remembering details like that.
Do you remember that?
Within minutes she's burned up the letter with Stan's cigarette lighter and dropped what was left in the toilet and flushed. And gone back to the baby's room to check on him while he sleeps, peaceful. This is the good life, she tells herself.
But the phone number is easy. Stokely won't forget.
series tag | fic index
Part 5, mostly gen, PG
5.
That's Madelyn, her second, getting on the bus with her big sister Jenny to go to kindergarten for the first time, smiling as she waves goodbye. And Sally, with the baby in one arm, waves back, happy for her little girl, heading off to make new friends and learn what her teachers have to tell her.
She's happy for Maddie, for both of them, but it hurts a little too, seeing them grow up so fast. In another few years little Michael will be leaving too, and then Sally will have all day to herself here at home. And that will be all right too, Lord knows she has enough work to keep her busy, but it's a little sad to think about. She doesn't like to think of getting older, or of being alone.
Then Michael's talking, babbling at her in his own baby language and looking at her with big brown eyes like she ought to understand, and it makes her laugh out loud and lift him up in the air. And she's happy again to live in this present, to raise her children, to love and be loved.
This is the good life, Sally thinks. She's ended up exactly where she's supposed to be. And everyone she knows feels the same way. Most of the world has been brought around by now; almost everyone's found the same peace and contentment Sally and Stan have. Every once in a while you hear rumors, but Sally really can't understand why anyone wouldn't want a life like this. Sure, she has moments of restlessness, times when she wonders how things could have gone differently, but that's only normal. And it always passes quickly enough. Really, she thinks, as she feeds her beautiful baby boy, what more could a woman ask for than this?
A few hours later she's put Michael down for a nap, and when the mail comes, to her surprise, there's a letter for her. Stranger still, it's not addressed to Mrs. Stan Rosado but to Stokely Mitchell! Mitchell is a name she hasn't used in ten years, since she married Stan, and she stopped using Stokely the year before that, back in her senior year of high school, just after she started going out with Stan. (Her new friend Delilah, who'd also helped her come up with simpler, more elegant look, had suggested the change.) There's no return address, but the stamps have funny writing on them and the postmark is from Bombay.
She looks at the envelope while she's still standing on the doorstep, and April Hansen from next door waves hello. Sally smiles, waves, decides to step inside before she opens the letter. She takes it out, unfolds the paper, and reads,
- Stokely,
She folds it up again. And for no reason she can understand, she goes into the bathroom and locks the door.
- Stokely,
Zeke says I shouldn't write to you, that it's dangerous and pointless. He says that once you see our names and know that we're still free you'll report us... or you won't even need to, that the information will just become part of the greater mind without you having to say anything. Don't tell me I'm paranoid, he says, it's not paranoia if it's true. And I laugh and say he's not paranoid enough if he thinks the greater mind doesn't know exactly who we are and what we're up to already.
I haven't tried getting in contact with anyone else from our old life, Stokes, but I can't help thinking that if anyone on the inside could be sick of it, if anyone could be part of it and still want out, it would be you. You used to be a rebel, Stokes, do you remember that? Back when we were in high school, before Zeke and I left town.
I've talked to other people who've been commuted and they say they don't remember the precise moment when it happened, don't remember when everything changed, and don't remember anything from their lives beforehand all that clearly. I wonder if you can, Stokely. I talked to you in the library one time about the books you used to read and the movies you watched. Do you remember that? You used to read a lot of science fiction, stories about robots and monsters and aliens. I told you I thought there might be aliens in our school, and you didn't want to believe it at first, but then you saw what happened to Mr. Furlong and what happened to Delilah at Zeke's place. And you were on our side. You were going to help us fight them.
Zeke and I went out to get some stuff from his car and I didn't say goodbye to you, Stokes, because I figured I'd see you again in a few minutes. But once we were out there some of the others started coming for us and Zeke told me to get in and we just started driving. I think we were the only ones to get out of Herrington that night. We've been running ever since. The aliens followed us everywhere we went and there doesn't seem to be a place on earth that they haven't reached by now, but we keep running, and we're not alone anymore.
Stokely, you don't need to stay where you are. You don't need to be part of it anymore. I know you thought back then that the only way to undo this was to kill the queen, but we've met a woman here in India who can get individual people back. She lays her hands on them and she's able to reach the part that never got touched by the greater mind, and bring that back, bring back your own mind and your own self. Don't you miss the woman you used to be, Stokes? Don't you want to find out who you could have become? Our friend has taught her technique to other people and she's working on teaching Zeke and me. By the time you get this letter we won't be in India anymore, of course, and I can't tell you where we're going, but you can get in touch with us by leaving a message with the phone number at the bottom of this letter. If you can get to Miami we can get you out of the country and to somewhere safe. There are safe places still. Not whole cities anymore, but there are apartments, there are places out in the wild where people are still thinking for themselves. There is a resistance, Stokes, and it needs you.
I'd so love to see you again, Stokes. It's not completely hopeless, even now. You can get out any time you want. Please get in touch with us.
Your friend,
Casey
Stokely, she thinks, the woman you used to be, the woman you could have become. So funny of him to keep repeating that name over and over again. Casey always was such a strange boy. Such a surprise to hear from him; she always had wondered where he and Zeke had gotten away to.
Stokes. People used to call her that. A sullen girl, with dark clothes and too much eye make-up. An unhappy girl, back in high school, before she started going out with Stan. Sally tries to remember the books Casey says she used to read, tries to understand why such unlikely and unlikable things would have interested her. And why would Casey think she'd want to go back to that, or give up what she has now? Her marriage to Stan, her three beautiful children, her beautiful house? Why would anyone want to leave Herrington? Why would anyone want to resist this?
It's not completely hopeless. Well, of course it's not! She shakes her head, thinking Casey must be confused and misguided, but he shouldn't be held to blame for anything that's happened. He and Zeke must have had a hard time of it, all these years on the run. They really don't need any more trouble, and Casey was always a good friend before he went away, so she won't bother to say anything to Stan about it. Or to her friends, April or Delilah or Marybeth. Best she not mention it to anyone at all, come to think of it.
It's probably best if Stan doesn't see the letter either, she decides (and the decision surprises her, because it's not like her to keep anything from him). She looks down at the paper in her hands and reads the phone number at the bottom. It's only ten digits long, and she always was good at noticing and remembering details like that.
Do you remember that?
Within minutes she's burned up the letter with Stan's cigarette lighter and dropped what was left in the toilet and flushed. And gone back to the baby's room to check on him while he sleeps, peaceful. This is the good life, she tells herself.
But the phone number is easy. Stokely won't forget.
series tag | fic index