|
Post by Trent Peters on Aug 16, 2007 21:29:56 GMT -5
Nothing had been the same in the last few days. Trent Peters' home was filled with so much unspoken tension it was making his head hurt. Silence had never been so damn loud. His daughter Olivia had left for summer camp three days ago, along with his other daughter Serafina. There was no word from either girl at camp yet, so Trent really had no idea how that arrangement was working out, although he couldn't say he would be really surprised if the girls got into a full-on catfight at camp. They'd never really shared that sisterly bond, and Trent couldn't blame them...it was all his fault anyway. Everything seemed to be lately.
Aside from the girls leaving for camp, Trent's other girl had left the house earlier that day. His wife Camilla had gone to the one house on the planet that Trent couldn't be paid enough money to set foot in - Leo Johansson's house. And to think that Trent had even introduced Leo to his future wife Piper back in high school. The old days back at Marrimont seemed like they were ages ago, but in reality nothing had really changed. Either way, Camilla had gone to the Johansson house to be with her son Matteo for the day, something she did once a week. Her departure left Trent alone in their rather large Park Avenue penthouse.
That was something Trent couldn't take - being alone in that apartment. Especially when he was left alone with thoughts of his wife and whose house she was in. He had to get out of that apartment. Trent locked the door behind him and stepped into the elevator. The elevator music, as irritating as it was, was somehow soothing compared to the painful silence of Trent's apartment. He stepped on to the street without a plan as to where he was headed, and he stopped to think for a moment. Sticking his hands in his pockets, he thought about where he could go to get away from his boring, every day existence.
Well, it wasn't that hard to figure out - if he wanted to go out of the ordinary there was really only one place to go...Aria's. Trent wouldn't exactly be welcomed with open arms there, but it somehow seemed like the right place to go. Strange as it seemed, he felt comfortable there despite Aria's nagging and bitter comments he endured every time he visited. Besides, no matter how much she complained, Trent knew deep down she would enjoy the company - she was alone too with Serafina at camp. So he made his way to the Finn residence, which was only a few blocks down on Park Avenue.
Approaching Aria's apartment, Trent braced himself for the interrogation and death stares he was about to receive before knocking on her door. He tried to think quickly when he realized that he had no real reason for visiting. The only times he was ever even allowed in the apartment without questioning were his visits with Serafina. With Serafina at camp, he needed a good reason for being there, and he didn't exactly have one.
|
|
|
Post by Aria Finn on Aug 16, 2007 21:58:43 GMT -5
The phone rang for the seventh time, sill no answer. Perhaps 43 calls was enough for one day, but Aria couldn’t help it. Serafina was off, alone in the world, having to fend for herself. Well, she was at camp, but it was all the same for Aria. Not that it really mattered, no matter how many times, or from how many numbers she called from, Serafina never answered the phone at camp. Aria had four years experience with this, and yet every year she expected her daughter to at least send her a letter. Maybe then Aria wouldn’t worry so much, or have to bribe camp workers to send her detailed reports on her daughter’s doings. All of it was out of love. Sort of.
She ran her finger around the lip of her glass, the ringing sound filling her ears, she had to admit, it was sort of nice being able to sit and drink all day, without Serafina or anyone else going on about the dangers of over drinking. She had been drinking in excess for 19 years and she was perfectly fine. The television was still running, though she never watched it, Aria just needed the noise and the occasional flashing of lights. It kept her connected to the real world, something she couldn’t afford to loose. But she never paid attention, the news ran for hours on end and she could no easier talk about current events than give up liquor cold turkey. She exhaled a perfect cloud of smoke, it settled for a moment, before dissipating and blending in with the air, when Serafina was gone, Aria’s breathing air was 50% cigarette smoke, maybe more depending on her stress level.
A commercial for canned pasta rang through her mind, the jingle playing over and over again. Aria scowled and stood up, flicking her ashes into an artfully placed solid gold ash tray. It was the sort of thing that could be considered excess, which was exactly why Aria had it. There was a knock on her door. No one ever visited Aria, aside from the occasional worker from the building complaining about the fumes her apartment supposedly emitted, or maybe one of Serafina’s friend who didn’t know better than to wait until Aria was out before going into the home, and a few Mormon converters who had been sent as a joke by Serafina to convert her mother. They stopped coming after Aria offered them a pack of cigarettes and a bottle of vodka, for free.
She slinked over to the door, her heels clicking loudly; a half way filled glass in one hand, and her ever-present cigarette hanging from her perfectly painted lips. As she approached the door, wondering why anyone would bother her, she couldn’t help but pray it was her daughter, home again from camp, she missed her mother too much. That was not the case.
Her eyebrow arched and she had to take a sip from her glass to stifle a laugh, “Are you lost or something? Did your cab run out of gass? Are you selling something, because whatever it is, I'm not interested.” She asked Trent, who for some reason, unknown to her, was standing on the other side of her door. Serafina is at camp, Trent.” She took a long drag and exhaled slowly, Trent hated her smoking, he always had. That was probably why she still smoked, just to bother him. “So, why are you here?”
She smiled, sharply, leaning back into her apartment to put the glass down. With a final puff of her cigarette, she stamped it out on the doorframe, “How terribly rude of me.” The ashes left black semi-burned circle on the flawless white paint, her smile grew. “I suppose you want to come in?” She carefully pulled the door open, and turned back into her room, not waiting for an answer, “Don’t sit down, I’ve just had the furniture cleaned. No use in getting it dirty.” She picked her glass back up, and waited, very interested to hear Trent’s explanation for his being here. She lit another cigarette, "Sorry pet, old habits die hard.”
|
|
|
Post by Trent Peters on Aug 16, 2007 22:26:10 GMT -5
From the very second the door swung open, Trent was faced with the exact greeting he'd been expecting. Even if he'd never shown up unannounced before, he would still be able to play out the scene in his mind before it even happened. That was just how well he knew Aria. Although she would never admit it, Trent probably knew Aria better than anyone in the world did. And although Trent would never admit it, he probably knew Aria better than he knew anyone else - even Camilla.
He hadn't always thought that, but after he found out about Camilla's affair with Leo, he'd changed his mind quickly. Everything he'd thought he knew about Camilla was shattered, and he suddenly realized that he knew Aria better than his own wife. It didn't mean he cared for Aria more, it just meant that she was more dependable. Perhaps it was Aria's utter lack of dependability that made her so reliable - because she could always be counted on to be unreliable. Aria remained the same no matter what, and Trent found it comforting.
Just like every time he greeted Aria, Trent acted eager and excited to make up for her lack of enthusiasm in seeing him. "It's lovely to see you too, sweetheart." Trent said, in his Australian accent that still hadn't faded after twenty years in the states. The first sixteen years of his life had cemented his speech patterns in for life. As he spoke to Aria, Trent leaned in to kiss her on the cheek, even though he knew she was guaranteed to duck her head and avoid the kiss as she always did. Aria hated any form of touch from Trent - he hadn't been allowed to touch her since Serafina's birth as he held Aria's hand through labor.
Again, nothing had changed in the longest time. Trent really stopped expecting anything to change by now. "Yes, yes, I'm aware that the girls are away. I uh, I actually," Trent racked his brain quickly, what could he make up on the spot? He was never any good at lying at all. It would've been a useful skill, considering all the mistakes he tended to make, but he'd never acquired the gift. "I need to pick up some things, I'm sending a care package to Olivia and I thought I'd send one to Serafina with it. You know, to save on postage." Trent smiled at Aria, who was nearly his height in her impossibly high heels.
When Aria invited Trent to come in - sort of - he followed her in without really answering. She didn't seem to expect an answer anyway. "So, if there's anything you want me to send along with the snacks and letters and whatnot, I figured I'd stop by and pick them up." Trent glanced around the foyer. None of the couches looked any cleaner than usual, but then again, Aria more than made up for Trent's lack of skills at fibbing. She did it with such ease she didn't seem to think twice. "I already got a letter from each of them, they're having a great time and they haven't killed each other yet. But I'm sure you know that already." Trent continued although he wasn't even entirely sure if Aria was listening, since she certainly wasn't looking at him.
Ignoring Aria's warning about the furniture, he sat down in a chair at the kitchen table. There was no way she could even pretend she had the sleek metal chairs cleaned. Trent winced as Aria made a reference to her smoking. He'd been telling her to quit for more than eighteen years now, not like it made the slightest difference to her. Aria had never cared about a single thing Trent had to say, or if she did, she never let on to it. "So how have you been? You doing alright?" he asked, speaking to her back and looking at her thin frame, which was looking thinner than usual.
|
|
|
Post by Aria Finn on Aug 17, 2007 16:45:07 GMT -5
Aria kept her back to Trent for as long as she could, staring at picture frames near the entranceway and setting them back down, she was stalling, she always stalled. It wasn’t a conscious thing, she didn’t set out to leave those long awkward pauses; they just lingered around everything she did or said. Aria just exuded that air, it was nearly impossible for her to have a normal conversation, one in which she said nothing that offended or left everyone else at a loss for words. So in true Aria form, she stood there for a few more seconds, waiting. She let her breathing slow and become a little too infrequent, she was testing herself again. For a few seconds she even forgot Trent was there, and so when she finally did turn around, she was a little startled to find him standing a few feet away, looking at her.
“I’m simply tickled that you decided to stop by.” She rolled her eyes, like some sort of a sixth grader trapped in a 35 year old woman’s body, which in some people’s minds, she was. In one fluid motion she avoided Trent’s attempt at a normal greeting and picked up a picture, suddenly acting interested in the photograph, though she saw it multiple times everyday. In fact, she wished she hadn’t picked that one up, it was of her and Serafina at Serafina’s 6th birthday party, the left half of the picture had been violently ripped off one day when Aria was in some sort of PMS induced rage, part of Trent’s shoulder was still there. Aria grimaced and set it down flat; she hated that picture but her daughter insisted it stay in its home on the side table, Aria didn’t bother to object, and with the new frame and her ripping, it was really just Aria and Serafina.
“Girls?” She asked, turning around once again to face him, confused for a minute before remembering his other spawn, that of Trent and Camilla. “Oh of course, the other one? Still alive is she?” And your wife?” She didn’t care at all what he said, it wouldn’t affect her in any way shape or form, but at times, she liked to appear concerned, “How very sweet of you, I’m sure she would love to get a package from you, I don’t really know what she needs, I think she brought enough shoes although, there is one pair I’m think she meant to take, I’ll get those in a minute.” She went through a short mental check list of things she could send her daughter, things that Serafina would want, not need. Needing things was overrated; besides, Trent probably had bug spray and Kleenex or whatever it is one sends their child already packed away. “Speaking of camp, that reminds me, I need to send Matteo a letter or a little something. Would you mind mailing it? If you’re going to the post office.” It was a dirty move, low and right to the gut. Her favorite kind.
Aria couldn’t believe it. She was fuming, Serafina and the spawn had already written letters, and Aria had gotten nothing, her mailbox was empty, she had called hundreds of times, and nothing. “Of course,” she said, her voice as even as her face was pleasant, her lying was impeccable, “I’m glad she’s enjoying it, but I still think she would have been better off at Heaven's Glory.” She sighed flittering about her kitchen counter doing nothing. She heard Trent pull out a chair, that meant he would stay for a while, or at least a few minutes, what exactly was he looking to do? Have a chat? She pursed her lips and took another puff from her newly lit cigarette, “I’m perfectly peachy. But you know what they say. I good day is only a bad day waiting to happen.” She finally turned and sat down across from him, and meeting his eyes for the first time, “case in point.” She waved her cigarette-wielding hand in his direction.
“And I suppose this is the point in time when I ask how you’re doing and how your marriage is and tell you how happy I am to see you?” It was the indirect approach, she could ask without asking, and then act indifferent. Though, in truth, a little piece of her, a very, very small piece, really wanted to know. And as Serafina was too old to pump for information without her realizing it, Aria would have to resort to this.
|
|
|
Post by Trent Peters on Aug 19, 2007 22:43:49 GMT -5
Following Aria's gaze, Trent watched as she pointlessly examined every picture that was resting on the mantel, although he could pretty much guarantee that she knew every inch of each one by heart anyway. He knew she was deliberately trying to avoid looking at him, and in a way he understood. It wasn't so hard for Trent to look at Aria, although he couldn't say he didn't get a flood of memories when he did, but looking her in the eye was a different story altogether. It was like every time they held each others' gaze, he could feel her resentment and blame burning into him, and part of him wanted to make her the teenage girl she used to be, the one he used to love spending time with, the one who was long gone.
Just as Trent had expected, Aria dodged his well-meaning lips and he missed her defined cheek completely. It hurt Trent inside, that Aria hated him so much he couldn't even touch her, but he understood her boundaries and respected her. Instead of making some snide remark about her cold rejection, he just blinked at her and walked right by her. There was nothing else he really could do anyway, especially since they'd fallen into this pathetic little routine of theirs.
Sometimes Trent wished that he never had to see Aria at all, but other times he wished he could live with her and Serafina all the time. He just wanted to tell someone these thoughts, but who could he tell? Certainly not Camilla, and not Aria or his daughters. Everyone he knew would use anything and everything he said against him in order to turn others away from him and have him to themselves. It had turned his life into a game.
As Aria ran through a half-mental half-spoken-aloud checklist of what she wanted to send to Serafina at camp, Trent only half-listened. It didn't really matter what Aria was sending to Serafina. He would send it all of course, along with her favorite snacks that he'd bought at the supermarket earlier that day - all the opposite kinds of snacks from the ones that Olivia enjoyed best of course, leading him on a wild hunt around the store to satisfy the opposite tastes of his two girls.
Either way, the package wasn't his real reason for being here, and Aria would figure that out soon enough. "Whatever you want, Ari." he said between her words, using his old pet name for her. "And yes, they're both still alive and well, as much as it might bother you to hear it." He was grinning so Aria would know he was kidding, but somehow Trent knew as soon as the words left his mouth that the humor would be lost on Aria. She would see it as an insult, not a playful jab. He'd never really learned to think twice before speaking to Aria.
And then Aria pushed it one step too far, like she always did. Trent was always beating himself up for not learning from the past, but Aria was no better than he was. She was different in so many ways, so much colder, but in so many other ways she would never change. Trent stood up to face Aria when those biting words left her pursed lips. "Aria." He said seriously, his face grave and his body rising to its full height. "That isn't cute, it isn't funny, and it isn't alright for you to say something like that to me." He was trying very hard not to raise his voice, and for once he seemed to be succeeding in keeping his cool. "You know how I feel about that god damned bastard child." he muttered, not even thinking about the fact that his own daughter with Aria was a bastard as well.
Before he let himself get carried away, Trent sat back down in the cold metal kitchen chair and ran his fingers along the smooth lines of the matching table. He drummed his fingertips on the cold surface and looked at Aria who was insulting him as usual while waving her stupid cigarette around. He could practically see the cancer in the deadly smoke and shuddered at the thought of himself having that same habit, however lightly, in high school. Trent had never been addicted to cigarettes, but he'd smoked socially as a teen, and the thought of it now disgusted him.
Enough was enough by this point though, Aria really needed to learn her own limits when she was throwing her verbal punches at Trent. He looked up at her from his seat and tried his best to make eye contact, however much she avoided it. "Aria." he said quietly, though there was no need to speak any louder in the quiet apartment. "What happened to you?" It seemed like a stupid question, but Trent really meant it. "You used to be so....I don't know. You were more ... compassionate. Empathetic, maybe. Why are you so cold? Why are you so angry?" The words came from Trent peacefully, as if he'd finally given up fighting himself to keep the thoughts inside. They really needed to be said.
|
|
|
Post by Aria Finn on Aug 20, 2007 16:49:59 GMT -5
Aria was in pain, not physical pain, but more of the emotional kind. It had simply built up over all those years and suddenly, it surfaced. She massaged her arm, not thinking or concentrating on anything in particular. All Aria needed to do was get through those few remaining minutes and she’d be fine. It would be time to self-medicate again, and that always made her feel better. In a twisted way, she almost looked foreword to having to see Trent or Camilla or Olivia, it gave her another reason to hit the bottle, a reason people understood, it was better that sheer need for something, having an excuse.
She shot Trent a sideways glance when he mentioned his wife and daughter being alive, and that possibly bothering her. For a split second, she almost thought he was on her side, before she remembered, that was highly unlikely and it was more of a slur that anything else. “I’m not that morbid,” she murmured. The effort it took to yell was tiring, and she wanted to save any need for screaming until she was certain the time was right. It was a bizarre sort of self control, the only kind she ever used, but Aria was simply saving up any pent up anger for later use; she could tell she would need it later; that was always how it went with Trent.
A slight frown crossed her face, and her brow creased. “It was a perfectly civil question. I’m sorry if you thought I was pulling some sort of an emotional trick.” Her voice was icy, hard, and lacked any emotion. Even Aria, herself, couldn’t tell whether she sort of meant it or not. Perhaps bringing up Matteo was pushing it a bit far, but she was bored. She wanted to see just how far she could go before Trent snapped. A twisted game, no doubt, but Aria was a slightly twisted woman. “Do I?” She asked, responding harshly to the word bastard. She had heard it enough in her day. Her own parents had used it quite often in Serafina’s early years, before Aria finally cut them off. After her mother’s death, her father softened, but the word still cut like a knife. “Do I really know how you feel about that bastard child?” She raised her eyebrow, waiting for some kind of response from him. “That poor little bastard.” She paused, rubbing her arm again, as though all of her problems could be solved by working out a kink, “Which one?” The question was simple, and to the point, but the way Aria said it made it almost like asking what the meaning of life was. There was no way Trent could get out of this one, and even if he could, Aria wouldn’t let him.
The chair was uncomfortable, it always had been. That was part of the reason why Aria had purchased them in the first place. It would keep people from sitting on her perfect kitchen furniture. Sadly, it often just resulted in people sitting in them anyway, and wishing they had picked a better seat. Aria almost wanted to move into her living room, she was farther away from any sort of vice, and at least in there she felt at home. The kitchen was a foreign place, Aria rarely ate and cooking was an even rarer occurrence in that household. Any time Aria was actually hungry, the feeling wore off by the time she got over the shock, or she would just drown it out. Like most things.
The smoke from her half smoked cigarette spiraled and curled upwards, every once in a while Aria had to have the painters in to remove the stains from the ceilings and walls of her apartment, and she went to the dentist twice a year to get any signs of her habit removed. Like it didn’t exist. Aria smoked more when Trent was around, that was one fact she didn’t often admit. It bothered him, and therefore in her mind, it made perfect sense to increase her intake, to bother him more. She eventually stamped it out on the sleek table, brushing the ashes off the table and watching them drift to the floor.
Trent’s words startled her a bit. And she just looked at him for a moment before she could even think of something to say back to him. She hadn’t changed had she? Was she really that different. “I don’t know what you mean.” She finally managed to get out. It was a pitiful response, but a response just the same. “I’ve always been bitter.” She glanced around the table and at the countertops, trying to locate a glass or a bottle, anything to help quell her anger, or those thoughts that just wouldn’t go away.
“You learn, after a while, that putting up walls is best. Don’t you think?” She paused, suddenly longing for the tendrils of smoke again, but she ignored the urge, and kept talking, “It is much easier to let things slide off when you’ve got an iron façade.” She smiled, a cold and very Aria, in the new sense of the word, smile, “Besides, I’ve grown fond of it. And honestly, I think you know why I’m so very angry. If you concentrate very hand maybe it will come to you.” Her voice was sugary now, dripping with honey and all too sweet. “Have you thought of it yet?” She asked, cupping her chin in her hand and leaning her elbow onto the table, letting her face get as close to his as she could possibly allow. Which in fact, wasn’t that close at all.
She leaned back in her chair, slowly crossing her legs and tapping the pointed toe of her shoe against the floor. The sound was deafening in the silence. “Its been 18 years, and I’m still angry. You'd think I'd have gotten over it by now. But I haven't. I've come to terms, but I'm still bitter. But I do have one question for you Trent, why didn't you let me go when I wanted to? Everything would be so much easier, on everyone.” She sighed, letting her current train of thought finish before saying anything, she didn’t want to get carried away, “You’d have Camilla, Olivia, and your life.” It was one of the few times Aria had ever said their names without spite, now she was just angry in general, “I’d have Serafina. We’d all be happier. You would never have to see me.” Truth be told, Aria didn’t think she’d be any happier living with her sister in London. Though Serafina would have a cute accent, Aria would probably be just as bitter, but no one would know the difference. “Why didn’t you just let me go?” She was pretty sure she knew the answer, something about stepping up and being a father to his mistake, but Aria was sick of that, whether it was true or not. She stopped talking then, she felt she had say enough. That had to suffice for now, answer some questions. All she wanted was her bottle of gin, so she could rock herself to sleep.
|
|
|
Post by Trent Peters on Aug 29, 2007 21:44:44 GMT -5
All that false innocence Aria was using to play dumb was beginning to make Trent sick. Her bitter sarcasm and mock naivety felt like a strong punch in the face to him as she pretended to have no idea why Trent had reacted so to her cruel jab about Matteo. It was such an unnecessarily low blow that Trent absolutely didn't feel that he'd deserved at all. "Of course, Ari." Trent said in a lower voice, feeling that it would be better just to dismiss it than to try and force Aria into admitting she'd known what she was doing to him all along...which of course she did. But they both knew Aria would drop dead before admitting to the games she played with people.
The very second that the word 'bastard' left Trent's mouth, it was like another premonition popped into his mind and he saw the scene play in his mind before it happened. The very next look on Aria's face was identical to the one he was picturing, the one he'd received from her too many times to count, after every comment he made that rubbed her the wrong way. It wasn't a strength of Trent's to think carefully before speaking, although he tried, and he had never in his life considered Serafina to be a bastard child, although technically she was. Just the fact that she belonged to Trent completely dismissed that thought from his consciousness.
It was now clear that Aria didn't share the same views on the matter as Trent did. With that cruel icy tone in her voice that she seemed to reserve specially for interacting with Trent and Camilla, she asked that horrible question, "Which one?" and Trent was frozen like a deer in headlights. He'd dug himself into a horrible hole and was looking up at Aria helplessly from where he sat in the cold metal chair at the bottom of the ditch. Struggling to scramble his way back out, Trent's eyes darted across Aria's face as he tried desperately to form logical words out of the reckless thoughts sprinting around his brain. "Aria, you - I think - you know what I - we both know that I don't - it's not like - it was never - I don't mean it like that - I couldn't, I could never..." Trent's rambling thought process was pouring out of his lips and not making much sense at all so he put it to a stop. "Aria." He said her name softly and closed his awkward semblance of a sentence with just that, praying she would understand.
With a loud and deliberate sigh, Trent dragged his hand up to his head and motioned to push his hair back, even still forgetting that it wasn't there anymore. All his life, Trent had sported long blonde curls that he was known for, and along with that hairstyle came his ever-present nervous habit of pushing the locks out of his face. He constantly found himself doing that, running his fingers through his hair, pushing it back and out of his eyes. Shortly after moving in with Tanner, when Trent had left Camilla after the news about Matteo, Trent had shaved off all the hair, leaving a short stubble behind. His scalp still felt foreign to him, especially since he'd allowed the hair to grow back numerous times when he missed it, and had only recently shaved it again a few months ago.
Although his motion to push his hair back was a failure, Trent's sigh was still the same as ever, and his emotions were all too familiar to him and Aria alike. "I'm sorry." he muttered, a little bit under his breath, although he knew Aria heard every word and he wanted her to. "You know I hate it when that -" Trent stopped himself from referring to Matteo as a bastard once again, "child is referenced in any way." He was trying to explain himself to Aria, but he knew it was a lost cause. Aria knew exactly what she was doing - they both knew it - she was just looking for ways to hurt Trent, and it was reaching new levels that Trent was having trouble coping with.
Listening intently as Aria answered his question with a sickening surplus of sugary sarcasm in her delivery, Trent could feel himself getting nauseous as his blood boiled at the same time. Aria sparked such a wide range of emotions in Trent whenever he was near her. She sickened him whenever she mocked him or referenced uncomfortable subjects, and she angered him to no end with nearly every word out of her perfect little mouth. But at the same time Trent felt a strange comfort in being near her, like things could be normal and nothing would have to change. On top of it all, Aria had only grown more beautiful and alluring since they'd known each other, and on occasions Trent felt a familiar lust for her which he shoved deep inside himself because it was so wrong. Aria was a thunderstorm to be around, and Trent loved it as much as, if not more than, he hated it.
It took Trent a few moments to think up an answer for Aria. "It's not like that Aria. I don't - I don't regret what happened." Trent's words were heavy, possibly more loaded than anything he'd ever said to her in their lives. "If none of it had ever happened, or if I'd let you go when you tried, I wouldn't have Serafina. I love her just as much as you do Aria, and life without her wouldn't be the same, you know I feel that way." Trent paused for a few moments and stared at the smoke coming from Aria's parted lips. "It's not only that though, I would - I mean, believe it or not, I'd miss being around you too. I know you hate having me in your life, I really do understand, but I just don't feel the same way, you know that too." Trent chuckled ever so slightly as he answered Aria. It was a hard thing to say, but somehow Trent felt like she needed to hear it.
Deafening silence floated in the small space between Trent and Aria as they stared at each other. "I could've never let you go like that. I thought I explained it to you years ago. I would've never, ever been able to live with myself knowing that I was the father of a child I abandoned. That there would be a child out there who never knew their dad because of me, who would feel rejected and unloved because of my selfish actions. It would've killed me." He opened his mouth to say something, closed it again to think, then began to speak again. "I couldn't live with the thought of burdening you so immensely and never helping you out. I'm in this as much as you are, we both got ourselves into it. I knew that from the start." Trent felt like he was finished, at least for the moment.
|
|
|
Post by Aria Finn on Aug 30, 2007 16:57:44 GMT -5
Ari. Ari. Ari. Ari. Did he have to call her that? It was a term of endearment, a nickname. The kind of thing that was only supposed to be used by close friends and relatives, not ex boyfriends who may have fathered your child; it wasn’t supposed to work that way. Aria pursed her lips, staring into the emptiness of her glass. When had it emptied? Had she spilled some of it? She tried to replay the past few minutes in her mind, but the disappearance of her beloved liquor never surfaced. She stood as her expression slowly turned into a deep and worried frown. Her eyes didn’t leave the glass though, as she walked the few steps to the liquor cabinet, unlocked it, and selected the correct bottle. She knew it all by heart anyway. She put the bottle down gently, and filled her glass to capacity. She took a careful sip before remembering her manners. “Oh! How rude of me, gin?” Aria asked, in an almost normal voice, extending the bottle in Trent’s direction, grabbing a glass off the nearest countertop.
Aria tuned out the world for a moment, like she always did, zoning in and out. It was almost like she wasn’t there, like Trent wasn’t there. Of course, by that point Aria didn’t get drunk. Aria was drunk. She probably hadn’t be sober in weeks maybe months depending on how one defines sobriety. The left hand dangled carelessly off the edge of the table, the still burning cigarette tilted downwards. She hadn’t meant for the conversation to get so personal. In fact she hadn’t even meant for there to be a conversation. But there she was, talking to Trent and even offering him a drink. Well, Aria can’t stay nice for too low, and the moment he began to try and dig his way out of the bastard mistake. A devilish smile began to play about her lips.
No matter how hard Trent tried, Aria was not going to let this lie. “You’ve never really had a way with words, have you?” It was the mothering tone she had never used with Serafina. Her eyes were wide and understanding, Aria had gotten a little too good at this game. It was a near clean sweep every time she played it. When would Trent catch on? She dropped the smile when he said her name, again. Why did he keep doing that? Saying her name? It made her feel, off. Bizarre in a way she was most certainly not comfortable with. “Will you stop saying that?”She breathed out, exasperated, “don’t say my name, just…..” She trailed off, even she knew that her reasoning wouldn’t make any sense outside of her own drunken mind. Or maybe it would, but she didn’t want to know.
“And why do you do that head thing?” Aria waved her hand towards Trent, with his head rubbing. “Do you have a migraine? Do you need an aspirin? Do you have head lice? Am I making you nervous? Would you like to leave?” She said the last one with an added lilt. But there was a little bit of her didn’t really want him to leave, she was alone. Aria was always alone. Company was nice every once in a while, even if she had made it her life’s goal to ruin that particular company’s life. Therein lies the paradox.
For a minute, Aria wondered what exactly Trent meant by sorry. Did he mean using the word bastard? Probably, or maybe he was apologizing for his pitiful excuse of an explanation. “Fine.” It was sharp and to the point, but what’s more is, she meant it. “I forgive you.” Again, she wasn’t quite sure what she was forgiving him for. But she didn’t let herself ponder that for too long, she would probably end up in unwelcome territory. “I suppose I know what you mean, in a way.” Her understanding streak couldn’t last forever, “Your wife, we used to be friends you know?” Aria smirked, as though the last statement had been funny, “when Serafina was younger, I used to think she’d rather have her as a mother. You’d be such a sweet family, the four of you. Trent, Camilla, Serafina, and Olivia Peters. Two pretty parents with their two pretty blonde girls.” The word blonde left her tongue with a little ring of spite, “No one accidentally dying their hair brown?” She sighed, knowing full well that neither of them regarded Serafina’s stage as a brunette, an accident.
“Everyone would be happier that way, with Aria out of the picture. I’d just be an old friend from high school, or maybe not.” She stopped rather abruptly, she had given that topic much too much thought. Aria never meant to let her mind wander like that…but. The idea plagued her, wouldn’t they all be happier if Serafina had just been Camilla’s?
Aria waited, not wanting to say anything else, ever. She pulled her cigarette back her to painted lips, taking a long drag and exhaling. So she let him talk, letting her mouth stay slightly open, so the effort of smoking was decreased to impossible proportions. Aria let it stay there for a few moments, listening to Trent, but trying not to look at him. Looking at him, was well…it was. There were no words to describe the feeling she got when she looked at Trent. It was horror, guilt, hatred…and a few other things all mixed into one. But maybe what Aria hated most, was that after 18 years, she had never been able to desensitize herself to Trent. No matter the emotions, she always felt it tenfold when he was around.
“You really don’t regret it?” Her question was almost hopeful. She still needed the assurance. But as hopeful as she was, Aria was Aria. “Never once did you wish that we… that you and…in St. Bart’s… or maybe that I had just gotten an…” She couldn’t finish any of her sentences; they were all too embarrassing or painful. To think that she had actually slept with Trent, the moment it crossed her mind, she filched. Moments like this made her wish she could drink herself into a coma. A coma would be better than this.
“Sometimes even I wish that, maybe I could just know how everything would have turned out…without.” She let the word her go unsaid, that way she could deny it at all costs later on. “I am twenty-eight, I mean thirty-five.” She cursed inwardly. Aria couldn’t exactly lie about her age to Trent. “And my entire life after my Junior year in high school was Serafina. I spent my twenty-first birthday with a three year old.” It was a little ironic, even Aria knew that. She had missed out on every normal experience after seventeen. “I just want to know, maybe I could have gone to college or gotten married.” It was too personal, and once again, Aria cursed her loose tongue. Why was she saying things like that? Trent didn’t need to know any of it.
She emptied her glass and set it down gently, “Hate is a strong word.” Did she hate Trent? Maybe, Aria wasn’t even sure what she though about him. Hate was just the easiest emotion to feel. She was angry all the time, hate came naturally. “You would have gotten over it, you could have lived easily without her. In time, you would have forgotten all about me, and her. You’d be some sort of a glorified sperm-donor.” It was one of her favorite phrases. “Besides, you have another daughter. The first one had too much Aria in her? Might as well just try again. See if we can do better the next time around.” She stared at him blankly, willing herself to scream or rant or rave. But she was in the mood for sarcastic games, painful ones that would take a lot of explaining to get out of. “Serafina has never been a burden, she’s my child.” Not yours “I love her.” More than you. “She needs me.” I need her. "She didn't need you." But maybe I do.
She met his eyes for one of the first times in a very long time. Aria blinked once or twice, her eyelids fluttering. “And here we are, eighteen years later.” It was simple, but she couldn’t think of anything else to say. If she still cried as often as she used to, the tears would be flowing by then. She sighed, propping her chin up with her hand, she smiled, an almost real Aria smile. But by the time she realized what was happening, she had wiped the silly grin off her face.
|
|
|
Post by Trent Peters on Aug 30, 2007 20:05:54 GMT -5
It was difficult for Trent not to stare at Aria as she sipped her drink. As useless as it was to nag Aria about her smoking habit, it would be unthinkable to make any sort of comment about her drinking. Not only would it be useless and completely in vain, but she would most definitely flip out if anyone brought up that touchy subject. There was no doubt whatsoever. There was also no doubt in Trent's mind (or in Serafina's, Olivia's, Camilla's, Ty's, or anyone's who knew Aria) that Aria's drinking was a serious problem. But everyone who knew her knew that there would be a right time and place to say something, and it hadn't come yet.
Shaking his head, Trent rejected Aria's offer of gin. Trent hadn't been a heavy drinker at any point in his life. The last time he'd let himself go completely out of control, he'd injured his future wife Camilla. In a twisted way, it was a good thing, because that led to their relationship, but it was still bad because he hurt her. Few things in Trent's life had been as painful as knowing he hurt someone he cared about so much, and it still pained him just to think back on it. Trent waved his hand along with the gesture, and added, "No, no I'm good," urging Aria to put the alcohol away.
Stumbling over his words, Trent looked pathetic and he knew it. This wasn't a new development however. Aria had always seen Trent as pathetic in her eyes, or at least she'd made him think that for their whole lives. Come to think of it, Aria had spent her whole life making Trent feel bad about himself, and for some twisted reason, he still couldn't keep himself away from her. "Yeah, that's never exactly been my forte." Trent joked, smiling sheepishly at Aria. For a moment it looked as though Aria was going to smile along with Trent and appreciate the bit of humor, but the tiny beginnings of a smile dropped from her face suddenly.
It was a mystery to Trent why Aria was suddenly asking him not to say her name. He knew that Aria didn't really like when he used nicknames with her, because she hated feeling close or friendly with her, but he really couldn't help it. It just slipped all the time because it felt right. As much as Aria seemed to despise Trent, he felt close to her, and a term of endearment like "Ari" just came naturally to his lips when he addressed her. But now she was asking him to stop saying her name altogether and she was clutching her head gently the way she always did while drinking. "Why? What's the matter?" Trent didn't really expect an answer from her, but he asked anyway.
Then Aria started to crack at Trent's nervous habit. She was being utterly ridiculous by even mentioning it and pretending like she'd never seen it before. He'd been pushing his hair back and running his fingers through it constantly since before they'd even known each other. "No Ari," he started, wincing briefly as he slipped out the nickname once again, but ignoring it. "I just miss my hair is all. You do remember that I used to have a lot more hair than this, don't you?" Trent knew that there was a little bit more bite to his sarcasm than necessary, but he was only fighting fire with fire. He always tried to keep his cool around Aria, no matter how much she provoked him, but sometimes it was hard not to snap at her.
Still, it was a relief when Aria actually said that she forgave Trent. Those were rare words to hear from Aria, and Trent didn't take them for granted. Forgiving people was something that she did as rarely as admitting she was wrong, and there was a slim to none chance of that ever happening after being around her for years. Her next words were painful for Trent to even listen to. When Aria went off on a tiff like this (nearly always with a considerable amount of alcohol in her system - but when wasn't that the case?) she would start beating herself up and saying horribly untrue things about herself.
Which was exactly what she was starting to do at the moment. She looked like she was about to cry, but Trent couldn't tell. Aria often teared up and her eyes were watery when she went on a drunken rant, and she rarely ever cried, especially in front of Trent, so he wasn't really expecting it to happen, but there was always a chance. The look on her face was so pained that Trent felt the same hurt she was feeling, although there was no reason for either of them to be feeling that way - the words coming out of Aria's mouth were completely untrue. Which was why Trent felt he had to stop her before she got carried away with it.
Reaching across the table, Trent motioned to cover Aria's hand with his, but decided against it, and rested his hand on the table a few inches away from hers. Aria never let him touch her, and this moment would be a bad time to test it, to say the least. "Come on Ari, that's not true. Don't say things like that, you know it's not true. This is your family too - we are your family. I don't know where you're getting these ideas from." Trent looked up at Aria and tried to make eye contact, but she was avoiding his gaze like the plague. "You need to stop saying things like that, Ari. We all need you, and though I know you'd never admit it, you need us sometimes too."
Despite Trent's words, Aria was still firmly avoiding his gaze. She was so deliberate in her efforts that there was no way she could even try to pretend she wasn't doing it on purpose. Trent began to lose himself in his thoughts at that moment. He started to wonder why she was so intent on not looking at him. Did she think she might break down and cry? Was it too hard for her to look at him because of painful memories? Did she feel the same things that he felt when he looked at her? For some horrible reason, Trent found himself praying it might be the latter. He wanted Aria to feel the same way he felt so he wouldn't be alone, even if it meant she might have to feel painful or wrong feelings. He just didn't want to be alone.
For a few moments, Trent brought himself back to think about Aria's question. It didn't take him very long, there wasn't much to think about. He'd already spent the last eighteen years of his life thinking about this question, he didn't need to waste minutes on it now. "No." he said deliberately. "I really don't regret it." Trent took a moment to pause before continuing. "I've thought about it. I've thought about what might've been; what our lives might've been like. But I've never regretted it. That's completely different." He hoped he was making some sort of sense to Aria, because he was really confusing himself a bit too.
It was all Trent could do to stifle a laugh when Aria began to say she was twenty eight. It was so typical of Aria; to attempt a lie even around someone she knew she couldn't lie to about whatever she was saying. She lied so often that she had to actually catch herself like that, the way Trent had to catch himself looking at her the wrong way. Aria was opening up to Trent in ways she rarely did, and he was really enjoying it. He had almost fallen in love with the real Aria years ago, and he loved seeing glimpses of her even now. He wondered if maybe he did love her back then, and if he did, did it mean he never really stopped? It was hurting his brain to even think about it, so he just listened while Aria said the same type of things he'd been saying.
Finally setting her glass down, Aria was at it again. She never failed to do this, it was the one thing she was always dependable for. Whenever she was being sensitive or understanding or compassionate, or anything that she would undoubtedly consider weak, she would change in a heartbeat and say things that were cruel, harsh and completely unnecessary. Nothing infuriated Trent more, and he began to lose his cool. "Aria." he said seriously, raising his voice more than he meant to. "Shut up!" He slammed his hand down on the metal table a little too hard, and Aria seemed startled. "Why the fuck do you say things like that? Do you get some sort of sick pleasure out of making me feel like shit?" Trent was yelling by this point, but Aria deserved it and she knew it.
By the time Aria finally made eye contact with Trent, he was so angry that he didn't want to look at her, but he did anyway. "I don't know how many times I need to say things to you before you'll understand them, but this is getting ridiculous! Just shut up already!" Trent shouted at her, his hand remaining still in the place where he'd slammed it down only moments earlier. His eyes were full of rage as he stared into Aria's, and he could swear he could see the cruel ice in her blood at that moment.
|
|
|
Post by Aria Finn on Aug 30, 2007 22:00:08 GMT -5
For a few moments Aria felt something she hadn’t felt in a long time. Hunger. She was starving, a deep ache wrentched through her stomach. Twisting and turning and making her feel a little too woozy. They always say never to drink on an empty stomach. But Aria’s was always empty and she always drank despite that fact. She tried to hasten the relief by drinking faster. But it was tacky, chugging her gin like she was some sort of white trash. She looked back over her shoulder, trying to remember if she even had any food. Probably not, especially with Serafina gone. There was most likely a carrot or two in the refrigerator. But it wasn’t worth it. Aria turned back to the table, her head tilted to the side, each time another pang of hunger hit, she winced. Finally there was physical pain, everything she had been feeling emotionally was now manifesting itself with a vengeance. It was almost comforting though, she rarely felt anything. Eventually, perhaps after a minute or two, it subsided, it always did.
Aria was quickly snapped out of her hunger induced panic when Trent declined her offer of a drink. She hadn’t really thought he would take it. But it was always worth a try. “Suit yourself, but if you ever have the slightest inkling for a drop of something…strong.” She grinned, “let me know.” Honestly, maybe she and Trent would get along better if he was a drunk. They could have deep conversations regarding the best brand of vodka or which glass complimented which wine the best. That was the type of conversation she yearned for. The kind that had no connection to her real life. Something as far away from her and Trent as possible. No one around her drank. Perhaps they did, but to Aria, it was an art form. Every drop was semi-sacred, nothing was to be wasted. Even taking a sip was perfected. Aria lifted the glass to her lips, but didn’t tilt it for a second. She almost put it back down. But Aria didn’t have that type of will power. The cool liquid ran down her throat, it burned a little. But it was a welcome burn. Better than any hunger pain or emotional dilemma. A welcome jolt of reality, the good sort of burn.
Watching Trent attempt to explain himself was her kind of entertainment. Aria could have watched him fumble his words and backtrack for hours and hours on end. “No you're right; maybe you should just stop talking altogether.” Her smirk widened, “Then I’d be saved your excuses, and you could stop trying to make them.” She thought for a moment, planning her next words carefully, “Like the excuse about why you came here today. If you had really just wanted something for Serafina, you’d have taken it and left long ago.” Truth be told, Aria was sort of glad that wasn’t the case. Trent would have been in and out in a minute or two, and she would have had to spend the rest of the day alone and angry. Never a good combination despite the person, but in Aria’s case it was lethal. “But you’re still here.” She stopped, realizing that his being there was partly due to her keeping the conversations alive, “And I’m still talking to you. Imagine that.”
“Nothing.” She hissed, her annoyance creeping up on her slowly. It always started that way; she almost was like her old self, until the years of anger and overindulgence after overindulgence began to resurface. Sometimes, she would try to resist the urge to snap at someone. Ty or Serafina for example, but with Trent it was useless. Sooner or later, the bitch reemerged. “I’m fine, I would just prefer if you not…” It sounded foolish when she put her ideas into words, in fact no matter how she tried to rephrase it, her reasons just made her seem juvenile. “If you wouldn’t say that.” She felt four years old. There should have been a giant lavender bow in her hair and a matching dress. She glanced down, as if to check and make sure she wasn’t wearing Mary Jane’s and white stockings. A soft sigh escaped her lips, there was no lavender or patent leather to be seen. Just the green dress she had put on that morning. Or maybe it had been the night before, her sense of time was waning.
“Ari?” It was really starting to bother her, hadn’t she just told him not to say that. But even Aria was better than Ari. “Must you call me that? I’m not seven.” Aria looked at Trent’s head. Yes, she did remember his hair. She had been quite fond of it in high school. When Trent had first shaved it off, even Aria, who hated him, was slightly horrified. “Of course I do.” Her tone was relatively neutral, “I liked it better long, you should grow it back out.” It was a side comment she hadn’t meant to make. “Not that my opinion matters.” Blunt and to the point. As always, Aria kept herself distant.
The awkward pauses in their conversation grew. They were more frequent, longer, and more awkward. Aria knew that the awkwardness was nearly all due to her lack of ability to connect to people. She traced her slender finger along the cool table top, drawing a swirling design. Watching the slight beading appear and then disappear as abruptly as it had come. The pad of her finger left a trail, smeared in the once perfectly polished metal. Her nails were short, she had chewed them nearly to the nub in anxiety. Every week she went in to get them done, but a day or two later, they were a chipped and ragged mess. Her one feature that she let be anything less that flawless. She stopped her ‘art’ and examined her hands. They had been pretty at one point in time. In the days when she had still played the piano she had considered them her best feature. Now they were disgusting, a flaw.
Aria bent her hands into clumsy fists and rested them back on the table. She breathed carefully, in and out, in and out. The sight of her hands was distressing enough. She watched, horrified as Trent’s own, less repulsive, hand extended in her direction. Was he actually trying to do what Aria thought he was? What on earth could possibly be going through his mind. Her pulse quickened, and her anger rose. Despite the fact that he never made it as far as her hand, the though hung in the air. It horrified her. “All I’ve ever asked you…” Her words were breathy and disjointed, “Please, just don’t, don't even try to...” She pulled her hands back to her lap slowly, and then stood quickly. Jumping back from the table, she was pacing then. The pacing was déjà vu. And that only made it worse. “Why did you have to do that?” She felt a tear balancing on the edge of her eyelid, and she quickly brushed it away. “You can’t touch me, that’s the only thing I’ve ever…” She brought her hand to her eyes again. She was, for lack of a better phrase, freaking out, and he hadn’t even touched her. Eventually, she had to turn away from Trent, staring at the cabinets as she attempted to calm herself down. “My family?” It was angrier this time, though she still couldn’t look at Trent for fear he would notice the fact she was almost crying properly.
“How could you ever even suggest that you and your fucking wife and daughter were my family?” She turned, but kept her face down, the fury was overriding any sort of sadness, and finally she looked up, meeting his gaze head on. She didn’t care that the remains of her short lived near cry were on her face, or that her eyes her red and slightly swollen, “I. Don’t. Need. You.” The idea that she did was ridiculous, why on earth would she need him? But she did. Aria needed Trent. It was a fact that would die with her.
She rested her hand on the back of her chair, and slumped back into it. For some reason, pacing just made her feel worse, besides all this thinking and trying to monitor what she said was tiring. She could feel her self slipping away. Out of the corner of her eye, Aria watched Trent, looking at her. He was trying to make eye contact again. She knew it. But she didn’t know why. Did he really want her to start having some sort of a fit? Was the idea of causing that sort of emotional pain amusing to him? Aria knew Trent didn’t think the way she did. He didn’t set off to hurt people, she did.
So Trent said he didn’t regret Serafina. It was nice to know, or at least hear him say it. But she had always known that Trent didn’t regret it. It just made her feel worse for those times when she herself wished she could go back and change everything. To have your child despise you was a pain worse than any other. If Aria could have saved herself from that, would she? Maybe she wouldn’t drink as much, or perhaps she’d have a few friends. But it was too late for changes anyway. She had made her decision all those years ago; Serafina was now a legal adult. Her life wasn’t even in Aria’s hands anymore, nothing Aria said mattered. Not that it had after Serafina’s eleventh birthday. “And when you think about how it could be different…what is it you imagine?” The question was sincere. One of the few true questions she had ever asked. She looked up at Trent. Hopeful. Part of her could assume what he would say, something he thought would make her happy, but that wasn't what she wanted to hear. Aria wanted to know the truth.
Her own tongue got the best of her again. Finally, after dozens of tries, Aria had gotten Trent to react in the way she wanted. She could deal with anger. “Testy, testy.” Her smile was cruel, “Aren’t we getting a little too upset. What would your mother say if she saw you talking to a lady like this?” Of course, Aria had met Trent’s mother, but that wasn’t really the point. She just wanted to get him as pissed off as possible. Until his anger matched her own. “Didn’t she teach you any manners?” She avoided the questions, instead just asking her own. They were light and airy, there was no substance or purpose to anything she said. Finally, she got around to the one she though was worth answering, “I say things like that because it gets you so worked up. You’re quite the laugh when you’re angry.” She winked and leaned back in her chair.
“Don’t take your feelings out on my table. If you’re so upset,” she crossed and uncrossed her legs slowly. Keeping composure was a lot easier than she thought it would be. “get mad at me. After all, I egged you on didn’t I?” The cruelty behind her honeyed tone was subtle, but sharp. “So tell me Trent,” she pronounced every letter in his name, “why so angry? Did mean Aria say something nasty to poor little Trent?” She didn’t break his gaze. It was a staring contest, like in fifth grade. Who would fold first? As far as Aria was concerned, she could do this all day. She crossed her legs again, letting her shoe dangle from her toe. This was what she lived for. “I’m waiting.”
She waited, her dark eyes narrowed, they were fighting. Full out fight. She was angry, just better at using it against others than Trent. Rage gets your no where. She knew that, and Trent probably did too. If Aria hadn’t been so ‘invincible’ feeling from the alcohol or so crazy in the first place. Angry Trent would have scared her, but instead it made her laugh. A sweet, bell like, almost angelic laugh rang out. And still, she waited.
|
|
|
Post by Trent Peters on Oct 7, 2007 13:38:52 GMT -5
As Trent stared at Aria with cold and judgmental eyes, he tried so hard to see in her what he had once seen, so many years earlier. When Trent thought back to their relationship eighteen years earlier, he could clearly remember Aria’s content, even joyful, face and every last emotion that he had felt as he looked at it lovingly. But now, sitting across from her in the cold metal kitchen of her cold, modern, and uninviting apartment, he couldn’t find any of those things in her face – the face that was now harsh and angular from undoubtedly self-inflicted emaciation, and bitter and angry from Trent’s own actions. He could only see the person she had become sitting in front of him, as if Aria had tried on purpose to erase every bit of her past self from existence. Whether it was intentional or not, she had succeeded; Aria from the past was gone, as far as Trent could see.
In place of the hope, wonder, and innocence that Trent used to detect on Aria’s kind face with ease, the first emotion to jump off her face at the moment was pain. That was all Trent could see as he looked at her now, a pain that couldn’t be eased by anything Trent could do, and just that very thought pained him as well. The look was wiped off of Aria’s face in a split second and she quickly acknowledged his rejection of her offer for a drink. The last time Trent was drinking, he’d ended up not going home at all, but no one knew the truth about that night – no one. Camilla had been so worried, poor Camilla, she’d called Trent’s cell to leave twenty four messages on his machine and she hadn’t gotten a wink of sleep that night because she waited up for him to come home, but he never did. When he finally did walk in at eleven in the morning the next day, he was viciously attacked by his hysterical wife, and he tried to spit out the fake explanation he’d been working on the entire walk of shame home. He told her that he’d had too much to drink, which was true, and that he’d crashed at Tanner’s apartment for the night, which wasn’t true, and that his phone was dead, which was not true either. Camilla wanted to know why Tanner or Ty hadn’t thought to call her, but Trent just shrugged it off.
In order to save Tanner’s ass from the wrath of Camilla in this state, he rushed to the bathroom to take a shower and pulled out his phone to call Tanner and warn him about the lie. Just to make his problem even more twisted, Trent had to lie to Tanner about where he really was as well, and said he’d spent the night at Aria’s but didn’t tell Camilla because she’d jump to conclusions. That lie was a lot closer to the truth, but Trent didn’t let anyone know that. The actual events of the night were far too humiliating for Trent to admit to anyone, especially Camilla, especially Aria. He’d had so much to drink that he’d gone all the way across town from the bar to Aria’s apartment, but he never went inside because it was three am. Instead, he’d fallen asleep on her fire escape trying to think of something to say to her. Luckily for Trent, Aria never found him out there, nor did anyone else, and that was the only thing he could think of as Aria offered him a drink. There was no way he’d take it.
Trent knew he was blushing by this point, but there was nothing he could do about it. He’d dug himself a grave and now he had to lie in it, because this ditch was a little too deep to crawl out of. Aria had verbally backed him into a corner, something she was eerily expert at; a tactic she employed against Trent far too often for his liking. “Sorry,” was all he could manage to mumble. There really wasn’t anything else to say, he’d inadvertently called their daughter a bastard. And now Aria had to go and point out the fact that he’d obviously shown up with intent to do more than just pick up something for Serafina, in typical Aria fashion. “Oh, I apologize, Ari,” he said, with a bitterness in his tone that only Aria could coax out of him, “how inconsiderate of me to keep you company and chat for a few moments. And don’t act like you seriously don’t want me here, because if that were true you would’ve thrown me out a long time ago. But I’m still here, and you’re still talking to me, imagine that!” The mocking in Trent’s voice was undeniable and he cocked his head with a little smirk as he looked at her.
The pure bitterness in Aria’s voice was far superior to that in Trent’s. No matter how angry with her he got, his cruelty was no match for hers. “If you say so,” Trent said simply, smiling softly at her. As childish as Aria was acting, and as irritating as her attitude was, Trent almost appreciated it a little. As long as Aria was acting childish and only mildly irritable, she was still acting a little vulnerable and somehow more likable than when she was purely angry and sarcastic. So if Trent was made to pick and choose, he would undoubtedly select the babyish Aria over the cruel adult one. It wasn’t really a difficult decision anyway, he’d rather be nagged than actually ridiculed and humiliated any day.
It was all Trent could manage not to bust out laughing as Aria shifted uncomfortably in her seat at the repeated use of Trent’s favorite nickname for her. It really was amusing, any situation that made Aria feel awkward was quite humorous, simply because the rest of the time she was just so cool and composed like nothing ever got to her. But Trent, of course, knew better. He knew more of Aria than anyone did, because he’d seen just about every side of her that there was to see, and he knew that no matter how badly she tried to fool the world, everything got to her in some way or another. She would act unflinching, like she could care less, but it was a fraud that she played along with, a product of her true lack of self-assurance. “Actually, yes, I absolutely must call you that. It’s a force of habit that I can’t quite seem to shake,” he said obnoxiously with a little wink. Just like that, Trent’s mood jumped like it was adjusted by a light switch. “I shaved my head for a reason, Ari,” Trent added, “and you’re right, your opinion doesn’t matter.” Trent knew that wasn’t fair, to be so mean to her like that, and as mean as she was herself, it still hurt him to say something like that, but it was a sore subject.
Just as Trent’s hand was creeping across the table and nearing Aria’s, she did what she always did, she freaked out. Their hands were so close that Trent swore he could feel the heat radiating from her fingertips, the heat that he was unsure her body even had anymore, since he hadn’t touched her in so long and from his distance she just seemed impossibly cold. He was trying, he really was. Trent was trying with every ounce of his being to just brush off all of Aria’s cruel words and to just be kind to her. He couldn’t have found kinder words to say to her if he’d tried, and it was beyond him why she couldn’t just accept his compassion for once in her entire life. He’d even respected her boundaries and decided against touching her hand with his like he’d originally intended, but this was how he was repaid of course, she threw a tantrum as usual and made him feel like a horrible person like she always did.
Trying to keep his cool, Trent took a deep breath as Aria leapt up from her seat. He actually rolled his eyes as she started to pace back and forth across the room; God, she was such a damn drama queen. It was ridiculous how she blew everything out of proportion, but he tried to resist saying so. “Aria!” he said sternly, as though he was scolding their daughter. “Will you just calm down for God’s sake? Did I touch you? No, I let the little haptephobiac be, so just sit down and get a grip!” Trent took another deep breath when he finally finished. He didn’t even want to wait for a response from Aria, because he knew it couldn’t be good, no matter what she said in response. Aria hated being yelled at, especially by Trent, and although that wasn’t really yelling for Trent, she would certainly interpret it as such.
Although Trent could handle Aria’s stupid little tantrum over her fear of being touched, this was taking it to a completely new level. “Are you kidding me, Aria?” His voice was flat and cold. He tried not to let his rage completely flow over everything else. “Would you mind trying not to be a self-absorbed ingrate for ten seconds of your life?” As hard as Trent was trying, his voice was still rising. “We are your family and you know that. Who else do you have? The loving family who disowned you and lives in Paris without you? Yeah, they definitely treat you better than I do. In fact, I aspire to be as kind and compassionate as they are to their lovely daughter.” Trent’s voice was loud and dripping with sarcasm. He wondered why he ever even tried to be nice to Aria. It wasn’t like she ever tried to treat him with anything but abuse. “And you don’t need me? Okay Ari, keep telling yourself that.” The words were bitingly true, and Trent knew they’d hit home.
It took Trent a moment to really think about Aria’s question. What did he imagine for them? When he thought about their lives being different, what did he see? To be perfectly honest, Trent didn’t really know. He thought about it all the time, but there was never a clear picture in his mind of a different future, a different life. He knew that the only other option he really saw was the life he would have if he never left Aria for Camilla at all, if he’d never married Camilla and had Olivia, he would never have the pain of the dark Matteo secret, or the hatred for Leo. It would just be him and Aria and Serafina, and they might actually be happy…but even that seemed a little too far-fetched to ever be true, even in a dream world. “I’m not sure, I just…what if I was never with Camilla at all? Do you…do you think that we’d be happy? I mean, me you and Fina? Would we be happy if there was nobody else?” As soon as the words left Trent’s lips, he knew it was a mistake to let them out. Not only would Aria hold them against him forever, but she was instantly back to bitch mode as well.
This was it, the last straw of the day. Every day that Trent spent with Aria, there was a ‘final straw’ that would cause him to just storm out and be done with it, and this was the climax of that day’s argument. As the realization hit Trent, he began to realize as well that the same thing would probably happen again later that week, and again, and again. Would it ever end? Would this stupid battle with Aria ever come to a close? Probably not, and it was all Trent could do to just attempt weakly to fight back. With Aria, there was no strategy except to fight fire with fire. “Go on Aria, keep insulting my mother. You think I give two shits? You grew up with me, you know she didn’t. You know exactly what kind of mother she was to Chels and I, you're almost as good as she was – almost, but not quite.” Trent knew that was hitting below the belt, he knew that Aria constantly worried about whether or not she was a good enough mother, but he was beyond the point of caring – although he would probably be up all night thinking about it, like he always was after a major fight with Aria.
She just had to keep going, didn’t she? Aria never knew when to shut up, that was the one weakness she had in battle. She never knew when enough was enough. “I’m done with this Aria. You’re not even worth it.” Trent got up from the table and began to walk towards Aria. When he was standing right in front of her, so close that he could smell her absurdly expensive perfume, he added, “You’ll be waiting for a long time then.” He walked past her angrily, and reached for the door. As Trent turned the knob, he had one last wicked thought and couldn’t resist tossing it in. He glanced back at Aria and looked her up and down. “By the way, have you gained weight? Those extra pounds look really good on you.” He turned around and walked out, slamming the door behind him as hard as he could without worrying about actually breaking the door.
|
|
|
Post by Aria Finn on Oct 7, 2007 15:40:45 GMT -5
Aria watched Trent closely. It was like a game, a sporting match. it was, perhaps, her favorite form of entertainment, a sick twisted game that that only Aria could enjoy. But in those few passing moments, of her watching him out of the corner of her eye, the cold and passive aggressive rules of her sport dropped away, it was a bizarre second or two. One she could barely remember once they passed. She wasn't sure what they had been talking about, only that the dull ache of hunger lingered and that the fiercest, and strongest of her emotions, which in truth were limited, anger, was creeping slowly up her spine. She let his words register, they dripped sarcasm, the kind she favored most, unless it was being used on her. She paused, swallowing the instant biting remark that surfaced the moment after he had finished speaking. Did she regret his coming here? No. With Serafina gone, Aria had little to do. In fact, even when Serafina was there, Aria rarely saw her daughter. Company was not a norm in the Finn household. Aria's hospitality was certainly not well known throughout the city. Few people were welcome in her home, Trent was not one of them. But he sat there, and Aria couldn't imagine asking him to leave. As much as she told herself she hated him, she was indescribably lonely. "Apology Accepted." She said, letting only the slightest ring of manners remain, the rest was sarcasm. Two could easily play that game, and Aria always won.
Nicknames bothered Aria. She had had many throughout her life, some much more favorable than others. Truth be told, Ari had been one of her favorites. Finny-Foo being her least, a gift of her second nanny in between the Swede and Angelina. Aria had faked tears and informed her father that said nanny had hit her, and that was that. At the time Aria hadn't considered the fact that the woman would probably never get another job again. But she was a little girl, little girl's aren't supposed to think of those kinds of things. The lying had started early, and by the time Aria told that particular lie, she was well seasoned. Unfortunately, Trent had ruined Ari for her. Or maybe she had ruined it for herself.
She had finally worked Trent up enough that he was getting angry. It was what she had set out to do, wasn't it? It was too late either way, there was no going back. "I guess it is like the habit I have of calling you a Fucker then, isn't it?" She asked him, not bothering to disguise her voice with any hint of sweetness, she'd need all of that for her next blow. Even to Aria, it would be low, almost too low for her. But at that point in time, with the gin in her system and the anger creeping up faster and faster, "At least you've got Cammie's opinion to rely on." She smiled, a full fledged, toothy grin, "And she's made so many fabulous choices in the past hasn't she?" Aria stopped, looking directly at Trent as she began to form her words again, she ticked off her examples on her fingers, "She went after another woman's boyfriend, then she slept with another woman's husband, she had a child out of wedlock and didn't plan on telling you?" She smiled again, only not so smiley, "You're correct in trusting her completely, after all people can change can't they?" She sighed, feigning boredom, when in fact she was ridiculously interested, "I'm sure the fling between Camilla and Leo is long over, else they've learned to use protection." Low, very, very low.
If Trent had touched her what would have happened? Would Aria have burst into flames? Probably not. Would she have burst into tears? Probably. It didn't matter really, because she was close enough to crying as it was, despite the fact he had stopped short. She didn't know why the idea of him touching her repelled her so much, or why, every once in a while she still dreamed about him, and not about him being brutally killed. Those mornings were bizarrely happy for Aria, though as soon as she could piece the remnants of the dream, it was washed away. Almost anything could be rinsed out of one's memory by the simple process of a few ounces of vodka, and then a few more.
"I'm not the one who needs to get a grip." She said slowly, keeping her breathing even, nice and easy, she could get through this conversation without embarrassing herself. And then he would leave. It would be wash time again most likely, a visit to Dr. V. Odka. "I don't need to calm down, I'm perfectly fine, I was just expressing my....just don't do it? Don't even try! No matter how noble your intentions, I can't deal with it, it is just too." Weird? Horrible? Missed? Wonderful? What? It was too.....something. Maybe too much of too many things, every conflicting emotion rushing though her body. It was too, everything. And he was yelling at her, did he want to corner her like some beaten dog? He wasn't allowed to do that! It wasn't fair, she was the one who was supposed to have the power in the conversation...not him! A frown creased her brow and her lower lip trembled a bit. It wasn't fair. He wasn't being very nice.
The word family always caused a slight feeling of discomfort. She had always thought that she had a good family when she was growing up. Until they left her out in the wind that was. But after her mother's death, her father sort of came around, though never fully. Her sister's had been there, in spirit, living in different continents could put a damper on a relationship, no matter how hard you tried. Aria knew that, but worse was the fact that Trent did. Trent knew exactly how close Aria was to her remaining family. The disjointed Finn clan's black sheep. Poor Aria, they would say, she had such a bright future. "They love me." She muttered slowly, her words catching in her throat. It pained her as she admitted to herself, eternally, the fact that she didn't know if they did anymore. Aria was a different person than the one they had loved. That girl was long gone, accidental and purposefully, Aria had packed away every last reminder of her old self, and locked it away.
So maybe she needed Trent. It was the way those fish need the little sucker things to keep them clean. That was how Aria needed Trent. A sort of symbiosis perhaps. Aria wouldn't admit it, ever, to anyone that she knew exactly how much she needed Trent, maybe more than she needed Ty. In that moment of realization, the truth hitting her like a ton of bricks, or at least a few bricks, her frown deepened. What could she possibly say to Trent? She could keep up the pissed thing, and knowing Aria she would keep it up. But for a minute, she sat there speechless. She, for the first time since she'd met him all those years ago, had nothing to say to Trent. She almost didn't want to say anything. She didn't want to dig the knife any deeper, to twist it that final bit. So she didn't.
The silence on her part was startling, or maybe it was only noticeable to Aria who tried her hardest to fill every speechless void with the sound of her own voice. Silence was horrible at times, and perfect at others. Right now, it was simply there. Neither good nor bad, slightly peaceful almost. Well, again, to Aria it was. She let her mind settle, if only momentarily. His next question startled her almost out of her silence, almost into some kind of a dream like trance in which she would have answered him truthfully. But thank God, it was almost. "What do you mean would we be happy?" She asked, knowing exactly what he meant, "Maybe we would but it doesn't matter, does it? It is much too late for changing the past. We've all made our decisions and now we must live with them. No matter how much we wish we could go back, we can't. The past is over, gone." It was true, but not the real true. Aria wanted to tell him what she really thought, how she often wondered about the same thing, picturing the three of them together, happy. But she couldn't, wild horses couldn't drag it out of her.
"I'm not insulting your mother, Trent." Aria hissed. And she wasn't, she was insulting him. Aria had problems saying bad things about mothers, well not her own and Camilla, but most other ones. It was her greatest fear, well one of them, that she would be branded as a failure of a mother. Was she that bad? The tears she had been trying her hardest to hold back began to slowly pour down her face. She could feel the oncoming sobs being to slowly rack through her body. It was too frail to stop them from manifesting themselves in the greatest way possible. "I'm not a bad mother." She managed to get out between tears and coughs. She was tired, and too upset to realize how freakishly venerable she was. Not just then but at all times, every time she was around Trent she put up walls, which he eventually broke down. She hid herself behind them, this had been the first time, in a long time, she had let herself get this carried away around Trent. Usually she could keep her composure until after he was gone. But not this time.
The last thing he said to her was the worst, the kind of thing that made Aria wish she was dead. At least if she was dead, Aria would be literally, bones. How could he say something like that, tell Aria she was fat? Or at least, ask her if she'd gained weight. She couldn't fathom a response in her current state, and just watched, still crying, as he left. The door slammed shut with such force that the whole apartment shook, Aria included. Her fragile frame rocking back and forth as she tried to think of something to do or say that would let her get the last word. But it was already too late, Aria was alone once again. And Trent was long gone, he was going home to his wife. Maybe Aria needed him, but did Trent need her? No, he probably didn't. She was really just a thorn in is side.
The sobs subsided eventually and the anger set back it, it was more of a rage then anything else. She stood, calmly from her collapsed place on the floor in the hall. And brushed herself off, with the push of a button the entire apartment was filled with Queen's Greatest hits. And Aria went about her way. Her movements were quick and forceful. With ease she smashed a semi-priceless vase, pushing it off a side table. She kept moving, stepping on the broken shards, lightly, not noticing the fact that her lack of shoes caused several pieces of the expensive porcelain to lodge themselves in her foot. The pain was almost welcome. The stupid picture of Serafina and Aria with Trent's arm was next to meet its maker. The frame hit the wall with a resounding crack, leaving a dent before clattering to the ground. She would probably end up destroying the entire apartment before her rage went away.
She was so angry, every other feeling, every other though was gone, nothing remained but pure anger and the resounding sadness that gnawed at her very being. Her lack of strength prevented her from doing much more damage than smashing every breakable thing within her reach, furniture lay untouched as did her shoe collection but nothing else it seemed. Besides Serafina's room, which was locked with a key Aria did not have. She slid to the floor, a flood of emotions sweeping over her. What had she just done? And more importantly, was she really gaining weight? Just the thought of it made her stomach bubble and twist. She felt like she was going to throw up, she knew she would. She dragged herself to the nearest bathroom. Letting herself curl into a ball on the floor. How often had this happened? Aria lying, sobbing, on the bathroom floor, waiting to vomit food that wasn't there. Wanting to remove every trace of it before her system, to see how long she would last without it, how little she could live off of before she simply wasted away.
Her she felt a searing pain shoot through her left foot, the product of a small shard of porcelain that was still lodged in her arch. She stood, gingerly resting herself on the edge of the bathtub, trying to squeeze it out without having to see any more blood. She grimaced, but triumphed in the end. She stood, making sure not to put any weight on her now injured foot. Her reflection was a disgrace. Hair standing up on end, eyes red, mascara running down her face, her lipstick smudged, and her foundation streaky. In truth she looked horrible. Aria twisted the faucet, letting cold water rush into the marble basin. A few splashes and her face was more or less clean, she scraped her hair back into a messy bun, and looked back at herself. Her makeup always made her look harsher, thinner, hallower. Fresh-faced she seemed more or less the same as she had ten years beforehand, maybe more. She looked at herself, eyes blank and expressionless, "Aria." She said softly, her voice cracked, "What have you done?" She turned from the refection and backed away, dodging broken glass and crushed flowers as she walked.
Her bedroom was only a few feet away, which was a good thing as if it had been any farther she probably wouldn't have made it. With a little effort she wrenched the door open, staggering a bit as the weight offset her own. She had made mistakes in the past, but this was one of her worst, she had trashed her own house, as a grown woman, and would have to deal with it in the morning, whenever that was. Before the maid could see what Aria had done. She would probably sleep for hours, maybe an entire day if she was that depressed. Aria slid out of the green dress that was not ruined, and into her biggest and least feminine pajamas. She pushed her phone off of the receiver, making sure that no calls could get through. Not that anyone would call her, no one ever did. And if they needed her that badly, they had a key to her house, or knew not to bother.Collapsing onto her bed, she curled into a ball, the fetal position, something truly weak. In her last moments of consciousness, Aria heard a few words of the music that was playing, it sunk in, as she finally drifted off.
"Each morning I get up I die a little Can barely stand on my feet Take a look in the mirror and cry Lord what you're doing to me I have spent all my years in believing you But I just can't get no relief, Lord! Somebody, somebody Can anybody find me somebody to love?" [/u][/color]
|
|