March 2015

"That is the fourth guy you have turned down tonight."

Molly is surprised she even hears Hazel over the club music as she sips on her third drink of the night. It's good that her mouth is preoccupied. She really doesn't know how to answer her friend, which is weird because she can always talk to Hazel. The only time she had been at a loss for words with her had been when Hazel called her up hysterical over her pictures being on a revenge porn site, but that had made sense since it had been indirectly Molly's fault, considering Seth had retaliated against Hazel just because Hazel told him off.

So yeah, that had been the one time her inability to communicate had made sense.

This time? She just doesn't know what to say. Hazel knows about Hunter, so maybe nothing needs to be said-

"Hey sweetheart, you want to dance?"

Molly gives the man a quick once over. He's decent looking. Tall, probably 6'4", chestnut hair, bedroom eyes. At one point, he would have been her type.

But she likes how Hunter is only two inches taller than her. She likes putting heels on to get him to roll his eyes over suddenly being a smidge shorter than her. This guy just doesn't compare.

"No, thanks," Molly chirps, then downs her drink before starting on her fourth, already slightly watered down due to sitting there, "Nice meeting you though."

The guy sputters for only a few seconds, seemingly shocked that she has the ability to turn him down, before leaving to scan the room for someone else.

"Make that the fifth," Hazel says suspiciously.

"No," Molly tells her slowly, meeting Hazel's eyes, "This is my fourth drink."

Hazel rolls her eyes, "I meant the fifth guy you've turned down. And I might not see what you see in men, but even I can tell at least two of them were good looking. Why don't you have some fun?"

Molly smiles sweetly at her and throws an arm around her, "I am having fun. Fun with you, my dearest, most gorgeous friend."

Hazel gives her a look, "You better watch out. People might think you're a lesbian."

"What's so bad about that? You're one, so lesbians must be great," Molly asks, squinting.

"But you're not," Hazel reminds her, "And you are getting hit on left and right and just turning every guy down. Does that mean things are official? With Hunter?"

Molly lets out a sigh, "I don't know. We talk everyday. I feel like my chest is swelling with joy whenever I hear his voice."

"Okay, now I know you're drunk," Hazel says, amused, "A sober Molly Taylor would not say that."

"Ughhh, I miss him!" Molly groans, throwing her arms and head on the table in dramatic despair. Hazel patting her back only helps a little.

"It sucks when Samira is overseas on active duty, so I get it," Hazel tells her, "Distance can be a bitch."

Molly turns her head to look at Hazel but doesn't lift her head off the table, "Where is Samira anyway?"

Hazel purses her lips, "Her parents' house. It's their anniversary weekend. My presence wouldn't help matters."

"Those fucking bitches," Molly scoffs, before lifting her head just enough to sip at her drink.

Before Hazel can come to the defense of her almost in-laws, Jerome and Rubina walk over draped over each other, as per usual. Usually, Molly thinks they are adorable. Rubina is the only girlfriend Jerome has had who hasn't gotten weird over Molly hanging out with Jerome so much. Now she just thinks Jerome is showing off.

"What's wrong with the two of you?" Jerome asks, glancing at both of them.

"Molly is lovesick," Hazel informs their friend, "And a bit drunk."

Jerome shrugs before sitting next to Molly to ruffle her hair, "Aw, Molls."

"And she's been turning every guy who approaches her down," Hazel continues, "The number of broken egos this woman is causing is adding up,"

Jerome nods, "Well, it is Molly. She's gorgeous. It would be weird if she weren't hit on wherever we go."

"Jerome, nuh uh, don't call me gorgeous in front of Rubina. I like her," Molly tells him, turning to stare at an amused Rubina, "I mainly attract creeps. I would never attract Jerome, don't worry."

"It's true, you do attract a lot of creeps. That's actually a nice word for a couple of them," Hazel mutters, and Molly feels a bizarre pang of guilt for even bringing the word creep up, "Hey, you're sure Hunter isn't a creep, right?"

Molly scoffs, "No. I wouldn't be this fucked in the head over him if he was."

She does cheer up slightly. She dances with Jerome and Rubina dances with Hazel, the couple probably taking pity on the both of them. After they decide enough's enough when it comes to clubbing, Molly goes back to Hazel's house to camp out on her couch. She's not drunk enough to have a hangover in the morning, but she isn't sober enough to make the hour and a half drive from Pittsburgh to Morgantown. She could hitch a ride with Jerome and Rubina but coming back to just get her car would be stupid. She’s sober enough to know that.

But she's drunk enough to try to call Hunter back when she sees there is a missed call.

"Don't do it," Hazel warns, trying to make a grab for her phone, "Friends don't let friends call SOs drunk."

"But Hunter got me this phone because my last phone was a piece of shit," Molly says, "It would be courteous to use it to call him."

"I approve already," Hazel answers, "Because your last phone was a piece of shit."

"He also got me this case," she tells her because Hazel needs to know, "Because he thought the color looked good with my hair."

Hazel nods seriously, "He has good tastes."

Molly nods as well before bursting into a fit of uncontrollable giggles.

"Go to bed!" Hazel laughs as Molly curls in on herself in drunken hysteria, "I'm so glad you are happy drunk but it is 1 am."

"H-hypocrite," Molly tells her, still laughing, "You're drunk too."

"Yes, but I hold my liquor better," Hazel answers, "You're a lightweight. That's what you get for spending the last few months working on the weekends, which makes no sense because having your weekends free is supposed to be the main perk of being a teacher."

"I was fighting the school board until February on the after school programs and available transportation," Molly informs her, wiping at her eyes as she tries to chill out.

"How very noble," Hazel says, "But you got it all approved, so that doesn't explain staying such a bore."

Molly clears her throat, "I stay at home on weekends and work on all of the plans and materials for the programs so that I don't have to work with Skinner one on one after school. He creeps me the fuck out and I avoid him at all cost."

Hazel's eyes narrow, "Yeah, you've said that."

Molly tries to nod solemnly, she really does. But Hazel just looks so serious and Molly just doesn't feel that way right now and before she knows it, she's bursting into laughter again.

"Molly," Hazel sighs, "Stop laughing about your boss being a fucking perv."

"I'm just laughing," Molly starts, trying to collect herself, "because I really do attract creeps. I don't know why. I don't get it."

Hazel gives her a look, "Because you're fucking hot. You attract the majority of people. The creeps just can't control themselves around you. The normal people can semi-function and they don't stand out as much."

"Hunter stands out," Molly says, leaning back against the couch, "Not like the creeps. He stands out in a good way. I miss him."

"So you've said," Hazel replies, but sounds softer than she did before.

"I went out with him when I was in LA," Molly says suddenly, "So I haven't been a dud for months. You should know that."

Hazel bites back a grin, "I stand corrected. Until tonight, you've only been a dud consecutively for 6 weeks. But yeah, I figured you had a lot of fun."

"I also jumped out of a plane."

"Wait, what?" Hazel asks, sitting up, "You, Molly Taylor, jumped out of a plane?"

"Strapped to Hunter's chest. I felt like I was out of my mind, both literally and with amazement," Molly reminisces.

"Alright, you weirdo," Hazel says, gesturing towards the phone in Molly's hand, "Call him back. But put him on speaker so that I can vouch for you or redirect you in case you start coming off as too much of a romantic, drunken idiot. Besides, I want to say hi to the guy who got you to jump out of a plane."

“Right,” Molly nods, completely all about this, “He needs to meet you now. You’re my best friend. He can meet Jerome later. He’s only my second best friend.”

Molly goes into her contacts and presses Hunter’s name. The phone rings three times and it makes her wonder if he has to be on set tomorrow and is in bed already because even though it is only a little after 10pm in LA, Hunter has been on set as early as 5 am before-

“Hello?”

Molly is pulled out from her thoughts at the greeting. She’s not quite in control right now so the first words out of her mouth are “Why are you up?”

Hunter chuckles at that, “Did you not want me to be? Why are you up?”

“Because I’m happy and having fun,” Molly answers honestly.

“It’s past 1 am there. What are you up to that’s so fun?”

Molly looks around, “Sitting on Hazel’s couch. It’s a really good couch.”

“It’s not,” Hazel objects, “You should have taken it when we stopped living together, if you love it so much.”

“But you deserve it,” Molly insists, bouncing on it a little, “Look, it’s still soft and cushiony.”

“It’s not. You’re just drunk and your body is too numb to feel the lumps.”

“Ah, so that’s what you’re up to,” Hunter says knowingly.

“Your girl is a lightweight. You should know that,” Hazel says, slightly leaning into the speakerphone, “It’s what she gets for not going out in six weeks. Any tolerance she had is destroyed.”

“I had four drinks,” Molly retorts, “That is respectable.”

“They were frilly, girly drinks.”

“Stop being so sexist towards my drinks!” Molly warns her, before redirecting her attention back towards the phone, “Hunter, this is Hazel, my best friend since we were seven and one of my roommates in college. She made me put you on speaker phone because she wanted to meet you and make sure I don’t say anything stupid.”

“She’s been saying sweet, stupid shit about you all night,” Hazel informs him, “I just wanted to make sure she didn’t embarrass herself.”

“You’re supposed to make me look cool, not sell me out-”

“Wait, Hazel,” Hunter interrupts, sounding both elated and urgent, “What kind of ‘sweet, stupid shit’ has she been saying? I need to know.”

Molly gives her a warning glare, before Hazel puts her hands up in surrender, mouths, “Sorry, just fucking with you”, and directs her attention towards Hunter, “All good things. She turned down five guys because of you.”

“The restaurant or five men?”

“I would never turn down a good burger,” Molly tells him seriously, “Hunter, you know this. You have to know this.”

“Five men,” Hazel clarifies, “A couple of them were really good looking too and she just brushed them off like they were dust. Broke their hearts like it was nothing.”

Hunter lets out a sigh, “I guess I can’t blame them. She is hard to resist.”

“I don’t care about them,” Molly says, curling up on her side of the couch, “I don’t care about them because none of them are you. One of them wasn’t short enough to be you and the others weren’t cute enough.”

“Hey, I’m not that short,” Hunter laughs, sounding extremely happy despite the comment being interpreted as a jab, “I’m 5’11”. That’s respectable.”

“Perfect height, I agree. I too hope that one day I can be 5’11"," Molly says, "Justin would hate it."

“Molly, you haven’t grown since you were 15,” Hazel points out annoyingly.

“I don’t know, I was stuck at 5’9” until I was 20 and randomly shot up two inches,” Hunter says, “Random growth spurts in your early twenties can happen.”

“Yeah,” Molly sighs sadly as Hazel starts to look at her funny, “But I’m going to be 25 in September. That’s mid-twenties. That’s so old. I need to get my shit together. Accept my height. Accept my life.”

“Molly…” Hunter starts, “As a 28 year old, I am going to tell you now that 25 isn’t old. Neither is 24, which is what you are right now.”

“And a half,” Molly points out, “I’m 24 and a half.”

“My apologies,” Hunter murmurs, “I thought people stopped counting half years by the time they were 10.”

"Well, apparently not me," Molly tells him as she curls up on her side of the couch, "It's past 10 o'clock there. I didn't wake you up, did I?"

"Nah," Hunter tells her, before stifling a yawn, "I was waiting for you to call. Figured I would give you until at least 11."

"You shouldn't sacrifice your sleep for me," Molly sighs, "Don't you have a shoot tomorrow?"

"Unfortunately," Hunter says, "First Saturday shoot in months. It's a 6 am call though and we are ahead of schedule. I bet we will be done by 4 pm."

"And then you're off," Molly says, yawning herself, "Until when? August?"

"Yep, mid-August."

"Do you have anything lined up? Any movies?"

"I finished the storyboards and shot list for one last weekend," Hunter tells her, "Production starts April 20th. It's a three month shoot."

"Who's the director?" Molly asks, lifting her head to fluff up her pillow.

"Darren Aronofsky."

Hazel had been so quiet and on her own phone that Molly honestly forgot she was there. But right then, Molly feels a jump at her feet. Tilting her head down to look at her, Molly raises an eyebrow in confusion.

"What the hell, Molly?" Hazel hisses, leaning in, "Who the fuck are you dating?"

"Hunter," Molly says slowly, because she should honestly know.

"I thought you said he worked on some teen show!"

"I prefer for my IMDb page to be eclectic," Hunter chimes in, "It confuses people and makes me an enigma."

Molly watches as Hazel goes red before recovering, "Sorry. I didn't think you would be able to hear me."

"It's all good," Hunter tells her, sounding more amused than anything, "This is actually a really big step up. I was surprised that he even knew who I was, let alone that he wanted me to do his fucking movie."

And maybe it is her alcohol in her system or just the fact that Hunter deserves this, but Molly feels so immensely proud and happy for him getting an opportunity like this.

"You should see your girlfriend's face," Hazel suddenly says, glancing at Molly, "She looks so proud of you right now."

"Yeah?" Hunter says, sounding as though he's extremely pleased over that possibility, "How so?"

"Big goofy smile on her face, a dreamy look in her eyes."

Molly lightly kicks Hazel's thigh, "That last one is just the alcohol. And Hazel, I repeat, you agreed to let me call him so that you could make sure I look cool."

"I know," Hazel sighs, "But that task is even harder than usual tonight."

"You're such a bitch," Molly murmurs, closing her eyes and nuzzling into the pillow so that Hazel can't interpret her facial expressions anymore.

"Aw, don't say that to your friend," Hunter says softly, "I like her. I like that she's calling you out on your secret sappiness and letting me know about it. It's heartwarming and informing all at once."

"You're a bitch too," Molly says as Hunter chokes out laughter.

Hunter gets over his fit of giggles quickly enough and lets out a sigh, "I'm a bitch with another 6 am call tomorrow morning and should probably be getting to bed."

"Fuck, did I wake you up?"

"I already told you that you didn't," Hunter says, tenderness in his voice, "That I was hoping that you'd call."

"You probably weren't hoping for a drunken Molly."

"I like all of the versions of Molly," Hunter tells her seriously, "Every single one."

Molly feels heat rise to her cheeks and a warmth spread through her chest then nudges Hazel with her foot as she starts to hear her friend try to hold back squeals of delight. Molly clears her throat and successfully moves past it, "I bet you wouldn't like a demonically possessed Molly."

Hunter lets out a loud laugh, "I'd rather not find out about that one. Stay away from Ouija Boards and cursed ancient artifacts if at all possible."

"No promises," Molly shrugs, "...I'll let you get to bed. Have a good day at work tomorrow."

"Have a good day off tomorrow," he tells her softly, "If you're not busy, I want to call you and run something by you after I get off of work."

Molly feels a knot form in her stomach. She fucking hates anticipating shit, "What? Just run it by me now."

Hunter stays silent for a moment, then says, "Nah. I want to wait until you're sober. Drink some water and eat some food before you go to sleep. I don't want you feeling sick."

"It better not be something shitty," Molly warns him, sitting up again, "Because I tend to perseverate on stuff."

"It's something good, I promise," Hunter snorts, "Or at least I think it's a good idea. I wouldn't bring it up if I thought you definitely wouldn't be up for it."

"Fine. Keep me suspense," Molly sighs, putting her head back down, "Goodnight. I'll talk to you tomorrow."

"Night."

Molly reaches over and ends the call, lies back down, then stares up at Hazel's living room ceiling.

"You do have it bad," Hazel says softly, "Damn, Molly."

"I feel like fucking crying," Molly mutters, sniffling a little, "I don't know why, but I do."

Hazel stands up and comes over to her side of the couch before kneeling in front of her to stroke her hair.

"Because he's a really great guy," Hazel tells her seriously, "Even I can see that. He's a really great guy who sees how incredible you are and you wish he was here. Plus, you're still drunk.

Molly lets out a wet laugh, "Yeah. That probably sums it up."

Hazel gives Molly a small smile, then presses a kiss against her forehead, "I'm going to make you something to eat. I think Samira has ramen in the pantry. If Hunter would find out that I didn't make you eat something, he would probably like me a lot less."

Hazel leaves the room and Molly has no one else to focus on but herself. She just focuses on the ceiling instead.

------------------------------------

When Molly wakes up and successfully manages to avoid a hangover, she cooks breakfast for herself and Hazel before even thinking about her dad. She hasn't seen him since the airport. She's talked to him on the phone a few times but the last time had been a week ago. Things are still strained, but Justin had been right. He isn't doing well. Molly could have told anyone that for a year, but now that it is a more established fact, it makes her nervous. She called him the other day with no response and she called him when she got up this morning, but still got nothing.

"I think I should probably go check on my dad today," Molly says, putting eggs on Hazel's plate.

"How is he doing?" Hazel asks before digging in.

"I don't know."

Hazel gives her a look, "Do you want me to come with you?"

Molly thinks on it. On the one hand, it would be nice to have someone there to support her if her dad ends up not being well. On the other, any type of audience probably wouldn't be appreciated by the man.

"Nah."

She doesn't regret her answer. She doesn't regret it when she gets her things together and she doesn't regret it when she gives Hazel probably too long of a hug before driving towards Franklin Park. She can never rid herself of the feeling any time she pulls up the driveway, residual emotions that have persisted ever since she was 13 and her dad moved here. It was a step up from her childhood home - closer to the upper part of upper middle class - and, as beautiful as it was, had no personality whatsoever. Any personal touches had been made by her ex-stepmother. She hadn't spent much time here, just enough to have a room that always looked more like a guest room than a teenage girl's room, while her step-brother's had been decked out in sports memorabilia.

She should probably check in with Mason. He should be a junior in college now. She hasn't talked to him much since she moved to go to WVU. He may have been a pain in her ass growing up but until she had reconnected with Justin five years ago, he had been the closest brother figure in her life, even if that meant not that close at all.

But first, her dad.

She gets out of the car and walks up to the front door, then rings the doorbell. Nothing. She knows her dad has to be here. Both of his cars are and it isn’t like he goes out with friends much anymore. Even if he did, he probably would be the one driving. She knocks, rings the doorbell again, then grudgingly finds his key on her keychain to unlock the door.

“Dad?” Molly calls out, “It’s me. You here?”

At first, there’s nothing. No confirmations, no sounds of walking towards the foyer. But then she hears a loud clatter from the kitchen. Walking in that direction, she begins to hear muttering that she can’t really understand and a sense of dread begins to form in her gut, a dread that makes her want to turn around and just walk back to her car, drive away, and wait to check on her dad next weekend. She has to force herself not to do that.

When she arrives at her destination and stands in the archway, that sense of dread just grows stronger. Dirty dishes stacked high in the sink, and several beer bottles lining the counters that her father is desperately trying to throw into a trash bag, the kitchen isn’t exactly in the state for guests. She’s seen worse. She went to school at one of the top party schools in the nation. She had been to enough frat parties to not be phased by a kitchen like this in general. But her dad’s kitchen? Her father who had literally created a color coded chore chart for both his first family and his second family had never been the type to let things stack up. Ever. When she had been a teenager, she actually would occasionally yet bitterly think that the only reason someone young and pretty like Madison would be interested in an asshole like her father was due to the fact that they were both fucking neat freaks.

That probably hadn’t been the reason. The reason Madison got with him and stayed with him for thirteen years had probably been for the money. Security for herself and the son that she had popped out in high school and raised herself until shacking up with her father.

But it wouldn’t surprise Molly if this was the reason she left.

“...Dad?” Molly calls out again, softer this time, “I rang the doorbell. Did you hear me?”

Her dad acknowledges her, but barely. Not with a cordial greeting or an awkward hug. Not even with a wave. All he does is barely look at her before obsessively fretting over his mess again, talking under his breath to himself the whole time. It takes everything within Molly not to curse in frustration before she forces herself to walk over him, “Dad. Dad! Stop for a second.”

She puts a hand on his shoulder and he immediately recoils, curling in on himself and gripping his hair. That’s when the panic attack hits him. Fuck.

Fuck.

As she tries to be soothing and lead him over to the kitchen table, she really wish someone was there to soothe her and tell her this is all going to blow over. Justin is surprisingly the second person on that list while Hazel is the third.

--------------------------------

She gives her dad an hour before calling Dr. Tessler’s emergency number.

In that hour, there are only about five minutes where her father seems somewhat alright as he tries to assure her that he’s fine and not to worry about him. The rest of his hour is spent pacing, muttering under his breath, and breathing erratically. When tears begin to fill the man’s eyes, she gives in and calls the number, the one that she has only because Justin managed to get their father to agree to see this woman in the first place. She had been hinting towards her dad that he should see a therapist the last eight months, at least on the few visits she had made.

But he’s seeing someone now and that’s what matters, especially during whatever this is. The woman thankfully answers and Molly is able to describe what is going on. The relief she feels when Dr. Tessler says she makes house calls and will be over soon is almost comical.

She gets her dad to wait in the living room, as he mutters on and on about being “just fine” and not to worry about him and stays with him until Dr. Tessler arrives. When Molly introduces herself and is able to study her, she realizes Dr. Tessler is maybe in her early 40s at most and that honestly surprises Molly. It makes her wonder if this woman has enough experience to deal with her dad. If that experience is enough to make him better. But it’s more experience than what she has so she lets Tessler take the reigns.

“I’d like to speak to your father alone,” Dr. Tessler tells her, “At least at first. Gauge where he is mentally without anyone else in the room. That way, he won’t have extra stressors around. Or put up a front.”

She can’t find it within herself to feel even slightly offended over being seen as a possible stressor. She’s just relieved that she has a reason not to be in the same room for a little while.

“I’ll uh…” Molly starts, trying to think of something productive to do, “I’m going to go clean the kitchen. If you need me, I’ll be in there.”

The house is mostly quiet and it’s unnerving for Molly. When she’s at her own house and is cleaning, she usually has music on or is talking to Hunter - or sometimes Hazel, Jerome, Rubina, or Justin if she gets an earlier start. Something to preoccupy her. But she doesn’t feel like talking to anyone right now and it would be pretty fucking insensitive to blast music on her phone. She can’t even put her headphones in because there is a chance Tessler might call her in or need to ask her something.

So she cleans, alone and in silence. She focuses on soaking and scrubbing off the plates and pans that have dried, crusted food on them since the dishwasher probably won’t be able to get it off and she cleans the counters before working on the floors with the WetJet. She’s sitting on the ground going through the fridge when Tessler comes back in.

“I gave your father a mild sedative,” Tessler tells her quietly, standing above her, “He’s calmer now and has been communicating. I also called the pharmacy to adjust his medication. Unfortunately these things are trial and error until we all gain a better understanding of the extent of your father’s symptoms, psychiatric needs, and responses to his treatment plan. I have spoken to him about a previous incident that occurred back in October and we both agree that it is important that you’re fully aware of the matter, since you are his closest immediate family member. Would you mind coming in to talk with us?”

Honestly? She does fucking mind. She doesn’t want to deal with this at all, only this time it isn’t out of anger or bitterness, it comes from straight up fear.

But what else can she say?

So she follows Dr. Tessler into the living room and sees her dad sitting on the couch, staring off into space but a lot calmer than he had been. She goes over to sit on the loveseat, while Dr. Tessler opts for the armchair. Past that, Molly doesn’t know what else she is supposed to do or say. Everyone seems to be waiting for the other person to talk first.

“Alright,” Dr. Tessler says, giving in first, “I spoke to your father about what caused him to get so upset over the last several days. On Monday, during his appointment, we discussed an incident he had back in October. This was quite distressing for him and unfortunately brought his anxiety levels back up. Craig, do you want to tell your daughter yourself or are you wanting me to talk to her?”

Her dad, now with a haunted look in his eyes, just shakes his head and whispers, “I can’t. I can’t.”

Dr. Tessler nods her head, “Do you want me to discuss it with her? I need your permission. If you no longer want her to know, that is up to you.”

“You can…” her dad starts, before gesturing towards Dr. Tessler, “You can talk to her about it. I can’t fucking say it.”

Dr. Tessler takes a moment and it honestly feels like the longest few seconds of Molly’s life. She has never wished she could go back and clean a fridge more than she does right now.

“As you are probably already aware, your father has severe depression, along with a few other mental health diagnoses, and has only recently begun talk and medicinal therapy in the last few weeks,” Dr. Tessler says to her, “This past Monday, he opened up about the suicidal ideation he has had on and off for the last two years. This ideation resulted in an attempt back in October, where he took several pain pills and attempted to drink himself to death. He woke up the next morning and did not seek out medical or psychiatric attention but has not had an incident like that since. Upon discussing it, both briefly with your brother back in February and more extensively with me, it has been an issue he has been fearful of and has been perseverating on.”

Ice. That’s all Molly feels right now. Ice isn’t a fucking emotion, but that’s the only way she can describe the feeling that’s going through her veins, heart, and every other organ in her body. What the fuck is she supposed to say? Is she supposed to say anything? Is she expected to?

“Okay,” Molly chokes out, barely above a whisper. She can’t really think of anything else.

Dr. Tessler must take pity on her because she continues, “I understand that this is upsetting to hear about. But you should be aware of what your dad is going through right now, especially since you were the one to see him, both the day after his attempt since he called you, as well as today.”

“The day after…” Molly starts, then shakes her head and finally looks at her dad, “What do you mean you called me the day after your attempt?”

The man’s hands are shaking as he tries to compose himself and explain, “I...I had woken up and was very sick that morning. I thought about trying again or uh...or using a knife. But I...I just wanted to see you again. See if you would come see me.I love you so much, Molly. I just wanted to see you. I know you have pushed me away for good reasons. I hurt you, your mom, J-Justin. I know that’s why you don’t come to see me much and I understand. But you...you came that day. I...I don’t know what would have happened if you hadn’t. I don’t know if I would have seen you again. If I would have seen Justin again. Anyone. But you stayed and visited for a while and I guess I changed my mind.”

Molly feels herself trembling as she tries to stay calm, “So are you saying that if I wouldn’t have come over that day, you would have killed yourself?”

“I don’t know,” her dad chokes out, “I honestly don’t. Th-Thinking about it...it scares me. Gets me too upset. That’s what happened this week, I think. If I had gone through with it, it wouldn’t have been your fault. This is...This is all on me. The reason I am like this is because of me.”

Molly feels like she is only half present after that. She barely says a word as Dr. Tessler discusses coping skills and the importance of communicating concerns and changes in behavior. She stays silent as Dr. Tessler schedules multiple appointments for the upcoming week. She stays silent as her father excuses himself to go lie down and as she walks Dr. Tessler to the front door before the woman turns around.

“I’m hoping that you will stay with your father?” Dr. Tessler inquires, putting her jacket back on, “At least for the week? The meds take time to adjust but I am hoping they will have an impact on his mood and that getting out of the house on a regular basis to come to my office may help him focus on a routine.”

“I…” Molly starts, suddenly unsure of what to say, “I work an hour and a half away. I’m only in my second year of teaching. I can’t really take off of work.”

Dr. Tessler purses her lips, “Staying with him all day probably isn’t necessary. I don’t think he needs constant supervision. But I do believe he needs daily company to keep him on track for a little while. I don’t believe he’s been taking his meds everyday so he should have someone to remind him of that. He desperately needs socialization as well. That is extremely important. I understand that an hour and a half is a long drive, but is it possible to do it just for the week? I don’t want to have to recommend an in-patient stay for him while this gets sorted out if it isn’t needed.”

Molly lets out a breath and nods, “...Okay. Fine. I’ll make it work.”

Dr. Tessler nods, “It was nice meeting you, Ms. Taylor. Due to his emotional state and the sedative I gave him, I suspect he will mostly be relaxed until tomorrow. He might even sleep until then since he hasn’t been sleeping much. I recommend you take that time to relax as well.”

How the fuck is she supposed to relax? But before she can ask, Dr. Tessler is already walking to her car.

She just goes back and works on the fridge. And then she works on deep cleaning the other rooms before starting on her dad’s laundry.

It’s when she’s doing her dad’s whites that her phone rings. Maybe she desperately needs the socialization too because she answers it without even looking at the number.

“Hello?”

“...I haven’t called in awhile. I want to see you again. I miss you so much. We were so good together. We should give it another try. Please, Molly. Please.”

Instead of the dread or the fear or the annoyance that she usually feels when Seth calls, she feels white hot rage. And fuck, it just takes over.

“Listen to me,” Molly says quietly, “You called me on the wrong day, you obsessive motherfucking son of a bitch. I’m not putting up with your shit. I hate you. I never want to hear or see from you again. Fuck you.”

Seth begins to laugh, but the laugh holds no humor. Yet he keeps laughing and laughing and laughing and-

Molly hangs up. As soon as the calls start up, she turns off her phone and puts it on top of the dryer. She wants to scream, scream as loud as she can, but the last thing her dad needs right now is to be disturbed or woken up. So she settles for kicking the washer so hard that she leaves a dent in it.

Four hours later, she runs out of stuff to do. She tries to turn on the TV, but the sound begins to annoy her so she turns it off. The silence bugs her, so she goes onto Google Music and puts The Accidental Natives’ album on. Hearing Nathan’s voice makes her miss the guy and it obviously makes her miss Justin. She could call him. Even if Seth is still calling, she can still call Justin and just ignore the beeping notifications of another call coming through.

So she turns her phone on. It powers up quickly and she puts in the code before the main screen pops up. At first, there are no calls. But within a minute, one begins to come through.

Bedford Gallery

Maybe it’s a psychic connection between siblings. Maybe Justin somehow knows she needs to talk to him. Maybe he needs to talk to her too. Regardless, she answers.

“Hey, Jester.”

It sounds more forced than usual - sad, probably - but using Justin’s childhood nickname gives her a sense of normalcy.

“Justin? You there? Hello-”

“If you ever hang up on me again, I will slit your throat and fuck you as you bleed out.”

Before Molly can say anything to that - not that she can get a word out - the call ends. No more come through.

It isn’t the first time that Seth has disguised his number as the gallery’s. It isn’t even the first time that he’s threatened her. It is the first time he’s threatened to kill her though, as well as the first time he’s directly threatened sexual violence. He’s insinuated things before. Even though the police say there is no proof, Molly knows he is the one who attacked her and ripped her dress almost completely off before being chased off by a homeless man (whom she now knows as Jerry) running at him with a half empty glass bottle of liquor. She could make excuses as to why he tore at her dress to other people, but not to herself. That being said, he's never admitted to it or straight up said he would sexually assault her.

He has tried to blackmail her, he has fucked with her property and privacy. But most threats to ruin her in some way or another remained just that: threats. Molly would like to think it’s because he’s more sane than he lets on, but it’s really because he’s too smart to threaten something, risk it being documented, and then being the first suspect in line if the threat that he made is actually carried out. So it is doubtful that Seth is actually planning on slitting her throat and raping her.

It still makes her feel sick. She feels bile in her throat and she forces herself to swallow it down. She refuses to have that kind of physical reaction to Seth. It may be stupid, but it would make it feel like Seth won this round.

She still calls the Bedford Gallery, even though Seth most likely isn’t actually there, and talks to Lola briefly. She asks if anyone weird has come in and Lola is confused the entire conversation. When Lola offers to get a hold of Justin, Molly politely declines.

“I just got this weird call,” Molly says in explanation, “Maybe my phone is glitching or something. It just said the gallery’s name on the caller ID so I wanted to make sure everything is okay.”

“We’re good here,” Lola tells her, “I mean, Max and I can check to make sure no one called you from our end but the main number is the lobby phone and I haven’t left the desk.”

“It’s probably just some glitch then,” Molly says, forcing her voice to become lighter, “Weird.”

“Yeah,” Lola says, “That is weird. I mean, Justin isn’t here right now, but I can call him just to be sure-”

“Nah, don’t bother him with it,” Molly says quickly, “I’m sure it’s on my end. I better let you get back to work.”

“Okay,” Lola says, “Nice talking to you, Molly.”

“You too.”

Molly ends the call. She isn’t hungry and she can’t think of anything to do to take her mind off of anything, so she goes upstairs, checks on her dad who is still asleep, then goes to her old room and sits on the bed and that’s where she stays. She doesn’t read, she doesn’t listen to music, she doesn’t play fucking Candy Crush, and she doesn’t move for an hour until her phone rings again.

Hunter Novotny-Bruckner

She gives a little more thought to answering this time, but ultimately the prospect of hearing Hunter’s voice wins out over it possibly not being Hunter at all.

“Hello?” she gets out, bracing herself for the worst.

“Hey,” Hunter says, sounding tired but happy, “I just got back home. Traffic was a bitch but the season is finally over. How was your day?”

Before Molly can even stop herself, she’s wailing. The sobs and tears hit her full force and she can barely catch her breath and she can’t fucking deal.

“Molly?!” Hunter calls out, extremely alarmed, “Hey, what’s the matter?! Are you okay?”

As Hunter pleads with her to talk to him and tell him what’s going on, Molly is just trying to get a fucking grip, at least to the point where she’s not so embarrassingly hysterical. She takes the phone away from her ear for a few seconds, wipes at her face, and at least tries to talk.

“M-My dad is-isn’t doing well,” Molly cries out, “I-I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Hunter tells her, his voice strained, “Don’t apologize. What’s going on?”

“I can’t talk right now,” Molly gets out through her sobs, “I’m sorry. I’m just having a really bad day.”

“Fuck, I wish I was there,” she hears Hunter mutter desperately.

“I wish you were here too,” Molly admits, her face crumpling as she whimpers, “I’m at my dad’s. I need to go check on him. I gotta go.”

“Molly, wait-”

Molly ends the call before she can embarrass herself further. A little while later, Hunter calls again but she just turns her phone off as soon as his number comes up on the screen and goes to bed.

------------------------------------------

The next day, Molly wakes up with the only kind of headache you can get from crying yourself to sleep. Slowly sitting up, she swings her legs over the side of the bed and puts her clothes back on from yesterday just so she can go down the hall and get into the shower. She had only had one spare outfit in the trunk of her car and this outfit was more appropriate to visit her dad in than a club dress. She’d have to leave extra early tomorrow morning in order to get dressed for work and pack enough clothes for the week. Fuck.

She tries not to focus on it. She just goes out to the pharmacy and picks up her dad’s new prescriptions, then makes sure he takes all of his morning meds with breakfast. She spends the rest of the morning watching TV with him and occasionally trying to get him to engage in some form of conversation. She doesn’t even turn on her phone until 2 pm.

She has two missed calls from Hunter, as well as a missed text. She feels like shit for worrying him like that. She doesn’t know if she’s ready to call him yet, to face the embarrassment that her breakdown is starting to bring on, but she does open his text.

Hey, I’m here if you want to talk, okay?
My phone is literally right next to my head
on its loudest setting and everything. I don’t
give a shit if you call at 3am. I’m really worried about
you and I hope you know that I care about you so
fucking much. Let me know how you’re doing

Molly lets out a breath, thinks about what to say, then begins to type.

Hey. Sorry for freaking you out last night.
I just had some stuff happen and none of it
was any good. I guess I let it build up.
I know you’re going to get on me about
apologizing but I really am sorry that you
had to hear that. I’m okay. Don’t worry.

Molly presses send before she can overthink it. Two hours later, she still receives no response from him. Although it isn’t like Hunter is obligated, she wonders why he wouldn’t send her some sort of acknowledgement, especially after emphasizing on how worried he was.

She only gets to perseverate on it for another half hour before her phone begins to ring with Hunter’s name on the screen. Although she isn’t really ready to voice everything that went down, she has been waiting to hear from him for two and a half hours and that’s enough to get her to answer.

“Hello?”

“Hey,” Hunter says, the sound of commotion in the background, “I thought it would be weird to ask for your dad’s address so that I can send him a get well card or a birthday card or whatever.”

“Yeah, that would be weird,” Molly confirms slowly.

“Right,” Hunter agrees, “It’s only cute when you make up shit like that to get an address out of someone.”

“Huh?” Molly replies eloquently.

“Can you give me his address so that I know what to tell the Uber driver?” Hunter asks, “I just got off the plane. I meant it when I said I wished I was here with you.”

Jesus Christ. Molly doesn’t know if she is hormonal or what, but she is so fucking close to bursting into tears again. She is so close to telling him she’s never loved a man more than she loves him and that scares her because they've never exchanged "I love yous" at all.

“Who’s watching Katniss?” she chokes out instead.

“Quinn,” Hunter says softly, “Katniss is safe, don’t worry. Now, your dad’s addre-”

“I’ll come get you,” Molly answers, her voice stronger.

“Aw, Molly, you don’t have to-”

“I want to,” Molly tells him, “Just text me your terminal info and I’ll be there soon, okay?”

“Alright,” Hunter tells her, “I’ll see you soon.”

Molly tells her dad that her boyfriend - for lack of a better word - is in town and asks if he minds if he comes over, tells him that Hunter can get a hotel if it's an issue. If her dad was okay and not sick, she would probably bring him over. Actually, no. She probably wouldn't be here to begin with. But he's going through something pretty huge and she does have to make sure he's alright with someone he's never met staying at his house. Hunter might be here to support her, but Molly is obligated to support her dad right now.

While her dad seems confused about Molly even having a boyfriend, he says that it's fine. Whether that's because he's genuinely okay with Hunter staying here or because he doesn't want to risk Molly being upset with him, she's not going to question it.

She just accepts the answer and heads for the airport.