Marc approaches his house, opening the door as soon as he reaches it. He's agreed to go to the beach with his friends, of course, but he was having second thoughts at needing to stop at home to get his swimsuit. Despite what he'd said to Mallory, he really isn't keen on stopping in. He spends time with friends to get away from his family.
Well, his mother's fine, if a bit overwhelming in her compassion. His father's the one who he tries to stay away from, when he can. Aside from the occasional business trip, it's difficult, since Joe Fitson will take any excuse he can find to take a day off; it's a polarizing effect, for the most part. A few days staying well into overtime at the office, then a few days where he finds some excuse to work from home or take more PTO than he was probably meant to have.
Were Marc his own father's boss, he'd fire him, but he unfortunately isn't. Instead, the higher-ups all agree that they can let Joe's behavior slide on the simple fact that he's been working so long, and anytime they've even tried to get somebody trained to assist with his workload it hasn't worked out. Marc wonders if that's because the trainees couldn't stand his father's absurd organization methods on the data he's responsible for, or if they just couldn't stand his personality. 'Both' seems to be the answer which makes the most sense.
Lucky enough for Marc, his father isn't in the dining room when he opens the front door. With that potential off the table, he sighs in relief and makes his way upstairs to his room, to get his swimwear. Swimming at Myna Beach was never warm, but he hadn't gone hypothermic yet either. Still, it was generally agreed that it was safer to swim in that water with a bit more fabric on, so most people use rash-guards. He's never seen anyone but tourists attempting to wear bikinis to that beach.
With the swimwear retrieved, Marc gets changed into it and stuffs his dry clothing into a tote bag so that he can change back when they're done, since he's planning to continue hanging out with Chris for as long as he's able to. He doubts he'll be able to stay over tonight, what with Chris's cousins visiting, but at least he can eat dinner at the Gonzalez house.
On the matter of Chris's cousins, he's already decided that he's not especially fond of the orange-haired one. It's got nothing to do with the fact that he doesn't shower enough, either; rather, that guy's been acting weird towards Mallory. Marc may not be able to pinpoint the reason why he feels protective of her, but that doesn't change the fact that he is. Something about that guy just makes him feel... Uneasy.
That's the best way he can describe it. Unease is the way that Dawson Packard makes him feel. It isn't a matter of feeling possessive over Mallory, because of anyone in the world, she's the most impossible to possess. And if it were Marc who Dawson was fixating on, he thinks he'd be equally as put off by it. He doesn't want to go thinking the worst of his best friend's cousin, but he also isn't about to turn a blind eye to it. Just because somebody is someone's relative doesn't excuse them from being suspicious.
Once Marc's changed and has everything he needs to bring with him, he moves to duck right back out of the house without being noticed, but his mother's walked into the kitchen. She smiles at him, and he freezes as he waves, then gives in and walks into the room, keeping his voice low, "Hey, Mom. Is Dad home?"
"Not right now," Marc's mother, Deborah, shakes her head as she answers, "He went out to get a few small things for his woodworking, that's why his car's still here. He should be back soon, if you need something from him?"
Marc taps the counter, frowning, "The opposite, actually. I was hoping to miss him altogether."
"Well, you should if you get going soon. What were you up to?" Deborah asks, tapping her fingers on the counter in front of herself. She doesn't even question why her son wants to avoid his father; she would avoid him too, if she had the opportunity. It wasn't that she saw him as an absolutely awful husband, or even a bad person necessarily, but she had been young and too starry-eyed. Joe Fitson was fine, she thought to herself, but he was not worth giving up on her dreams for.
She had truly been a fool, but that was all in the past now. There was nothing she could have done about it, because she didn't have anything that really compelled her as grounds for a divorce. It wasn't like she needed a sturdy reason, but it would help her to avoid losing anything. Were she to divorce Joe, she didn't want to take anything from him, but she didn't want to lose a thing to him either. Most especially not her son. Deborah seemed to many like the model of a housewife, not worth much more than the meals she cooked, but she did have a college degree. She had passed the Bar Test, too.
It is weird, she thinks, being a lawyer who'd never had the chance to tackle a single case. Joe couldn't technically stop her, she knew, but there was something about being with him which kept her from finding any opportunities. Maybe it was pathetic that she let an idea like that; Just the idea, control her, but she never claimed to be a person of strong character.
"I was hanging out with Chris and the others," Marc answers, "I just stopped by to get my swimsuit, since Chris decided he wants to go by Myna Beach. The others are going to meet me along the way if I just walk a little bit faster. They are slow as a group."
"Friends do tend to be," Deborah chuckles, lifting her hand up to pick at her nails, "I won't keep you longer, okay? You should get going. Enjoy the day with your friends, sweetie. If you happen to run into Jacob, could you tell me how he's doing? I lost his number again."
"Mom," Marc rolls his eyes as he wanders toward the door, "Sure, if we somehow end up either getting arrested or going to John and Mallory's house, I'll let Jacob know you said hi, and that you need his number again. Or you could just call the town's non-emergency crime reporting number and hope he picks up."
"He's the father of my son's new friends, can you blame me for wanting to be on good terms with him? You never know when you might need a favor from somebody. Now shoo!" As Deborah tells him to shoo, he's already got the door open and one foot out. As expected, he catches up with his friends without a problem. When he arrives back to the group, they're discussing school lunch.
That's a nice, generic subject that everybody has some thoughts on, an easy way to break the ice in a group.
Marc joins in seamlessly, "So is it a universal thing that absolutely no potatoes served at a school can ever actually have anything resembling the texture of potatoes?"
"Good point," Mallory says, pushing her glasses up, "I do not see school potato as potato, but as gouache. That's what it is, really."
"What the Hell is gouache?" Dawson questions, ever the uncultured one.
"It's a type of paint," Mallory explains, "And a style of painting, at the same time. It's extra-thick, so it gives the painting a bit more of a three-dimensional feel. Anyway, I don't have to worry about school lunches anymore. John makes bagged lunches for both of us!"
"I hate to toot my own horn, but they are pretty good," John says, pressing his fingertips together, "I make a mean sandwich. I use a lot of fresh produce from my garden too, when it's in season."
"You'll have to let me try one sometime," Tina gives John a smile, "Just the facts that they're sandwiches made with fresh produce makes them sound great. And I trust Mallory's judgment, too."
"Don't trust my judgment," Mallory holds her hand up, "I mean, I can tell when a food's good, for sure. But I also like a lot of food's that are definitely not good for real. Like peanut butter and banana sandwiches-"
"Don't trust my judgment," Mallory holds her hand up, "I mean, I can tell when a food's good, for sure. But I also like a lot of food's that are definitely not good for real. Like peanut butter and banana sandwiches-"
"Those are good, though," Dawson interrupts.
"With mayonnaise," Mallory finishes.
"Oh," Dawson doesn't know what to say.
"Mallory," Marc shakes his head in disbelief, "I like mayonnaise as much as the next guy, but that is a bad mayo."
"Huh, well," Mallory holds a finger to her chin, looking up at the sky, "I think it's good, yeah, but it is a bad mayo for sure. That's the kind of thing I really love. Plus, if all the food I eat is disgusting to other people, then I never have to worry about my lunch getting stolen when I one day work in a soul-sucking office job."
"Remind me never to let you cook for me," Chris mutters.
"Come on, Christopher," Mallory scoffs, "Like I'd ever cook for you anyway. I can barely cook for myself. Cereal is too much cooking for me most mornings, and that doesn't even involve heating anything up. Just putting it together."
"You can cook pancakes," John adds in, unhelpful.
"Just because I can doesn't mean I want to," Mallory answers, putting her hands back behind her head, "It's not like food is even all that great, really. I just eat to sustain myself, or just because the food happens to be there... Unlike you and Dad, John. You gluttons."
"I eat fruit," Marc adds in his two cents, useless as they are, "That's about all that I eat for the sake of eating, otherwise, yeah, food's not like an amazing experience or anything weird like that."
"I can't even believe I'm friends with you right now," John shakes his head, holding two fingers up to his own temple as he sighs, "I mean, honestly. Food is an art form, people! It's tied in with culture, climate, and all sorts of things like that. You really should enjoy food! It has so much personality!"
"I do enjoy it," Mallory shrugs, "But I wouldn't be crying myself to sleep if I had to go a month eating nothing but ration-bars, or cardboard."
"Mallory..." Tina starts, raising her eyebrows with a coy smirk, "You like the taste of ration-bars, don't you?"
Mallory turns red at this statement, whirling on Tina with her cheeks puffed out, "No, of course not! Nobody likes the chalky texture and near-tastelessness of ration bars!"
"Sounds to me like you're praising them for those facts," Tina waved a finger in front of herself, "Come on, you need to be honest with me, and with yourself. Embrace your love of the blandest food mankind has ever created and admit that the only reason you'd be okay with spending a month on them is because you secretly love them."
"I dug this grave for myself by saying how much I like terrible foods," Mallory groans, backing off with a slump of her shoulders, "Yes, you're right. Unfortunately, I do enjoy the lack of flavor that ration-bars offer. That doesn't change my statement, though. I don't think delicious food is a necessity to enjoy life."
"Yeah, me neither," Dawson agrees with her, and Tina resists the urge to kick his shin with the lies he's telling, "In fact, I'll even eat foods that I hate. It's just to stay alive anyway, so why does taste exist?"
"Well, on second thought," Mallory notes, "Food is actually pretty cool. The fact that different people can taste things differently and appreciate or hate them is kind of fascinating, even if I don't think that tasting good things is all that important to happiness... I still don't want to eat foods that are disgusting, like strawberries."
"Who doesn't like strawberries?" Dawson questions.
"Me," Mallory gives her answer in a matter-of-fact way, without any hesitation, "I like other fruit, but strawberries and strawberry flavored things just make me gag. I won't ever eat another strawberry if I can help it."
"Hey," Chris butts into the conversation, pointing behind himself, "Yo, everybody. Come on. Let's turn right here."
"But that's not the way to Myna Beach..." John says, looking around and trying to figure out why Chris is acting so strange. Unfortunately, they aren't able to react in time due to confusion, and a voice that the majority of them aren't fond of hearing speaks up behind them.
"Ah, Marc. Where are you and your friends off to dressed like that?" Joe Fitson had been walking back from the store on the opposite side of the street, and crossed to speak with the group, "Isn't the weather a bit off for swimming?"
"The temperature's fine, even if it's a little cloudy. It doesn't look like it will rain today," Marc answers, looking up at the sky, "So we're going to Myna Beach for a bit. Oh, these are Chris's cousins, by the way."
"...Charmed," Joe notes, keeping his attention on his son, "And you're sure that swimming is all you're doing?"
"What else would we be doing, going on an expedition to find some hotsprings to take a dip in?" Mallory involves herself, hands on her hips, "We're wearing swimsuits. What could possibly be suspicious about that?"
"You could be going to a party," Joe answers, waving his hand in the air next to himself, "A degnerate party with somebody who owns a hot tub... Like, say, Evan Temmer?"
John freezes up at the mention of that name and steps forward, almost protective of Marc, "We don't talk to Evan anymore and you know it, Joe."
"I don't know anything," Joe responds, clenching his fists, "And you should watch your tone, John Shingle. My son has kept secrets from me before and I'm right to worry that he'll do it again, so forgive me if I don't believe that a gaggle of teenagers aren't up to no good."
"Dad," Marc glares at him, "We really are just going swimming. Chris is on the swim team, remember? Swimming is too important to him for it to be used as an excuse."
"I guess there's nothing I can do based on suspicion," Joe sighs, and throws his hands up as he turns back around, "Whatever. Don't say I didn't warn you if you do something stupid. and face the consequences for it."
With that, Joe Fitson leaves the group behind. There's silence for a while before Tina speaks up, "Who's Evan Temmer?"
"Evan's a kid in my grade, likes acting as if he's older than he is. He's pretty rich, so he's pretty popular," John answers, folding his arms over his chest, "We used to hang out with him a lot, but he... Well, he turned out to be a little bit of an asshole. I guess rich guys sometimes are, right?"
Marc hesitates, but does add in an explanation of his own, "I dunno if he was really trying to be an asshole, though. He just didn't know how to take no for an answer, in certain situations. Truth is, when he asked me out I might have said sure, let's give it a shot, if not for my dad."
"Of course," Mallory steps in, "Word travels fast in a small town like this one, you know? Even though Marc turned him down, Evan spread a rumor that they were dating. Joe freaked out, and we had to come up with some story about us all hating Evan now just to get him to lay off Marc a little bit. You can probably tell he didn't lay off much."
"Goddamn," Dawson shakes his head in a dismissive fashion, "What the Hell was that about? Gay people just don't have any sense of boundaries, huh?"
"We're still friends with Evan. We just don't hang out outside of school anymore, because he pulled that one dick move, and now Joe'll be up all our asses if he sees us in the same place," Marc wrinkles his nose at Dawson, "It has nothing to do with his sexuality, and that was just one boundary that he admits he fucked up on."
"It's straight guys who don't know what boundaries are," Chris jokes, "So I've heard, anyway. I guess anyone can cross the line, but every rumor has a reason."
"If some guy did that to me, I'd beat his ass," Dawson puts his hands behind his head, "You can do what you want, I guess, but don't expect me to meet this Evan guy. As far as I'm concerned, anyone who'd pull that is a huge tool. Telling someone you're dating a person when you're not? Who would do that?"
"Dawson," Tina mutters, trying to communicate that he ought to stop talking without making it seem as if she's outright defying him.
"Look, Dawson," Chris stops walking as his feet touch the pebbles of Myna Beach, "I dunno what you're hearing from anyone, but if you're going to hang out with me and my friends, you have to be a little bit nicer than that. Evan's a good guy, and I hear enough trash talk about him from Joe. I don't need to hear you ragging on my friend, too."
"Even assholes deserve a second chance," John doesn't seem quite as forgiving as the others, but he's got a light tone as he says this, "Really, as long as they're trying to get better, assholes need friends to encourage them to change."
Dawson looks between everyone, then huffs through his nose as he walks away down the beach, leaving the rest of the group behind. Nobody bothers to try going after him, or even calling out for him to calm down. Eventually, Mallory turns to Tina, "Your brother is kind of a dick, no offense."
"None taken," Tina shrugs, "He is."
"Though... Even assholes deserve a second chance?" Mallory questions, looking to John. He shakes his head at her, but she puts both hands on her hips and separates her legs in a determined stance, "There's gotta be something worth somebody's time in that guy, and I'll find it. Well, not like I think he'll be worth my time, but somebody's, you know?"
"I wouldn't recommend that," Tina says, and everyone else agrees with her. Chris, too, isn't especially fond of his emotionally maladjusted cousin. It's beginning to seem like nobody does, but that can't be true. Dawson has plenty of friends at school. Maybe somehow, some types of people are drawn to someone as absurdly crude as Dawson Packard.
"Come on. What's the worst that could happen?" Mallory asks, then wanders down the beach towards the water, "Anyway, Chris. I'll race you. Ready to stomp me?"
"Always," Chris jokes back, dashing down to stand next to her, waves lapping up at their toes. John runs forward as well to cheer his sister on, leaving Marc and Tina standing at the head of the beach, looking down.
Marc looks to Tina, then speaks up, quiet, "You should stay here."
"What?" Tina questions, eyes wide as she turns to look back at him, "I don't- Why?"
Marc shrugs, "Because you're fitting in with us? I feel like you'd be better off here than back in New Mexico."
"Huh," Tina hesitates, bringing her arms up around herself, "Well, maybe you're right, but... I wouldn't make you deal with Dawson any longer than you need to. Seems like nobody's getting along great with him."
"I'm not saying Dawson should stay here. I'm saying you should," Marc steps closer to Tina and reaches out, putting a hand on her shoulder, "I'm pretty sure that Chris's family would let you stay with them. If they wouldn't, then I know for a fact that Jacob; I mean, Mr. Shingle, would."
Tina chuckles a bit, "You know John and Mallory's Dad well enough that you call him by his first name?"
"Nah, he's just one of those types of dads who says you should call him by his first name. Everyone calls my dad Joe because they hate him and it's disrespectful, but Jacob's always just trying to be the cool dad," Marc explains, "I guess it kind of works? As much as a police officer can be the cool dad, anyway. He's trying his best."
TIna nods before she speaks again, "He sounds nice. Well, that explains why John and Mallory are such sweethearts..."
"Yeah, they were actually raised well," Marc agrees with a small laugh, "I mean, if you ignore all the snark, those two are some of the nicest people I've ever met. Mallory's even saying she'd give Dawson a chance to prove he's not as obnoxious as his first impression? That takes a certain type of person for sure."
"Heh. Yeah, that's saying something," Tina admits, "Maybe it's shitty for me to say this about my own brother, but I don't think that there's anything there for Mallory to find. He's... Well, he's probably a walking trash bag. I don't mean that as an insult, I mean it as, there's not any good there. And a trash bag could have been filled up with something to donate to charity or something, but he just got garbage."
"You think that he could have been better?" Marc asks, not seeming at all put-off by Tina's terminology. Despite it being rude and a bit cruel, he just finds himself agreeing with what she says.
"I dunno. Maybe. I guess there's still time, he could mature some more," Tina says, "He could end up being a better person. And he probably could have been better from the start if we weren't left alone all of the time... Well, I'm just thinking about things which aren't true right now. It's pretty pointless to think about what-ifs like that. And Hell, maybe he really isn't as bad as I think."
"You're defending him now?" Marc asks, and Tina just shrugs in response. He scoffs, "Don't. Just... Don't bother, okay? I didn't like the guy from the moment I met him, so obviously, there's something about him that's really unlikable. You don't need to stand up for a guy like that just to try and sound like you're a better person for not hating him. You're allowed to dislike people. Even if they are related to you..." He hisses, scratching the back of his neck as he looks away.
Tina leans to look at his face, "So you don't get along with your father too well, huh? I mean, he really seems like kind of a dick."
"He is," Marc groans, dropping his arm to his side, "My dad's... Well, he's just the kind of guy who's way too proud of having a son? You know, he's always encouraging me to be more masculine and shit like that. It's pretty goddamn lame."
"I know someone like that," TIna suddenly recalls, "Back in New Mexico. Her name's Anna, and she's really obsessive over having a daughter. She makes her dress up all the time, makes her act especially girly. And in a way my friend appreciates that, but it can also be annoying to have somebody putting such specific expectations on you..." Tina thinks for a moment, "I guess, even I've experienced having expectations put on me, but I can handle them. I like having an idealized version of myself to strive for."
"I don't," Marc says, "I don't like having people expect anything of me. Makes me feel like I don't have room to grow or change... Like I just gotta stick to a mold, you feel?"
"I get it," Tina agrees, and she does. She can see it in him, the effects of growing up like that. The entire group is at the age when they begin to develop a real sense of self-questioning and identity, and it can be suffocating to start having those thoughts in a situation where one has always been willing and ready to let their identity be shaped by someone else.
---
Jacob Shingle likes to think of himself as a good man. At least, that's what he tries to be. It's not like he has any scale to measure himself against, and he's certainly made his own fair share of mistakes in his lifetime, but he still holds onto the idea that he's a good person. He is a good person.
Jacob has two children, and he lives with the two of them in a somewhat nice two-story house. He's never left his hometown of Mesteri because he has a stable job and the real estate market here is absolute garbage, which for anyone looking to afford a home, is great news. The island's inconvenient and lacking in jobs, has been since shortly after the conclusion of World War II. It's a dying town, but he calls it home, and he doubts he'll ever leave. This is where he'd hoped to build a future with his wife.
Even with her gone, he doesn't want to leave that idea behind.
John, the elder of his two children, is fifteen now. He seems to keep to himself for the most part, and unlike most parents, Jacob is glad for that. Fifteen was how hold he himself was when John was born, and though he doesn't regret the outcome of that ordeal, he wouldn't wish the experience on anyone but his worst enemy. It was hard to deal with all the guilt and scorn at the time, but he and Adelaide had worked through it enough that she was already pregnant with Mallory by the time the pair was graduating.
There was just that much love between them. It's been eleven years now since she died, not soon after Mallory was born. At least John has a few fond memories. It's been over a decade, and Jacob knows that he'll never truly be over her. Nonetheless, he keeps moving forward. It's a very important thing to do, he's well aware. Jacob has to be there for his children, and even when he was still in active mourning, he's always made sure to put them first.
His career choice is even linked to his children, in a way. He became a police officer because there's a shortage of them in Mesteri, and an abundance of crimes that go utterly unnoticed. Having been a teen himself not too terribly long ago, Jacob's work with the police sometimes makes it seem like he's the only one who's really trying to keep the kids safe. There's juvenile crime all over, and in a town such that everyone knows everyone, anyone who knows their neighbor's doing something illegal will probably keep quiet out of fear for their own secrets being revealed.
Jacob doesn't have those qualms, though. He doesn't have secrets at all; It isn't that only his nearby neighbors have a grasp on the more unsavory aspects of his life, but his secrets were already all up on display in the past. Perhaps now that his kids are reaching the point where they're transitioning from children to adults, he'll have to be a little more concerned, but for the time being he's happy to keep tabs on everyone and act on anything which is truly unsavory.
At least, as much as he's able to learn about. People are more careful with their gossip around a police officer, so he doesn't hear as much as other people might. He knows enough, though, and he's busted several people with this tactic in his career. He has a deep-seated desire to bring due legal process to anyone who needs it, especially the worst type of people in the world who always seem to fly under the radar in towns like this one.
There's still a shortage of police, even compared to the town's population, but Jacob likes to feel that he's making some small difference to that situation. Obviously, he's not about to single-handedly stop all crime in Mesteri, but he can certainly work to make sure that he stops everything he can.
A comfort to him is that recently, his children have made another friend. They're both very kind kids, but they have sarcastic streaks and introverted hobbies that keep them from being too sociable. Their friend Chris introduced them to his own childhood friend, and Jacob's glad for that. Deborah Fitson is a lovely, compassionate woman. She's a bit flighty and forgetful, but she has her own fair share of talents.
Joe, meanwhile... Jacob can't say that he's fond of Joe Fitson, the few times that they've met. It could be that it's only a reflection of his offense at meeting such a brazen homophobe with his own bisexuality in mind, but that man definitely rubs him the wrong way. It's a wonder that somebody as kindhearted as Deborah wound up with a guy like that, but Jacob can't presume to know how they got together.
It's a strange family, he thinks. Not that they're especially odd in any measurable way, but he just can't understand what they're doing in Mesteri. He knows that they moved to town before Marc was born, but they bought quite a nice house, and a nice car, and Joe's income is certainly enough that they could have settled down to start a family in someplace nicer than this.
Especially considering that they moved here from Kansas. It would be one thing to want to get out of Seattle, away from the city to have a child in a quiet town, and there's a variety of options for housing here that would give them the benefit of picking and choosing for individual features in a home... But it wasn't like most of the midwest wasn't in the same position. There were plenty of great homes for raising a family in those states. Really, it doesn't make sense for anybody to move here from that far away.
As far as he knows, they don't even have any family in this area. That's the most confusing part. Well, he doesn't have time to dwell on that sort of thing today. He's visiting his mother to help her with some housework projects; Hanging some framed puzzles that she's recently finished putting together, fixing a leak in the roof. Jacob always spends his days off in one of two ways; Doing something fun with his children, or finding something else to busy himself with.
He doesn't like to be bored, and there aren't a ton of televisions shows which interest him in a particular amount, so he finds himself with strange hobbies. When he's not messing around his own home or helping his mother at hers, he enjoys baking and putting together model vehicles. Planes, boats, whatever kits he can buy for cheap that he thinks will look good on shelves around the house. He finds it funny that he's ended up with such a stereotypical dad hobby, but it does help give the house some life that it wouldn't have otherwise.
He's still a single dad after all, and though he makes good enough money, it's not so much that he can splurge on real decor for the house. Any extra money he ends up with goes toward his children, because he had a great childhood right up until he screwed it all up for himself. He wants to give his kids the world, or at least their own pleasant childhood where he can.
