A Freeport Family Reunion

Maggie wakes slowly, unsure of what time it is. The curtained-off corner she has staked out as her own is dimly lit as she raises her threadbare blankets just enough to peek out. Even that weak light hurts. Her eyes still sting, so she can't have slept long, she tells herself. She can still feel the slight tightness of tear tracks dried on her face. She pulls her blanket back over her head, burrowing back into the straw. She clutches two objects to her chest like lifelines in a squall: an old, patched shirt, too big for its former owner, and a bottle. Maggie checks the bottle - still some left. She has no idea what kind of liquor it is, but it's strong and the bottle is pretty, and that's all that matters. The shirt still smells like Bana. It likely wont't for much longer. The smells of the barracks are too strong. The smells from the street leaking through cracks in the walls are too strong. Freeport makes everything dirty, one way or another, Maggie thinks. She can protect what's left of Bana for a little longer, though.
“She already went out to collect the dues today, Mags. She was pretty pissed you weren’t up so A.J. took your place. Youuu are so getting your ass kicked for that.” The voice is familiar. It’s cocky, rude, sincere, and childish like a younger sibling talking to their older sister. There, sitting on his old hay bed which rests comfortably close to the nearest hole to let the light in and bathed in the morning sun’s rays, is Ode. He still wears old, dingy clothes but the bad attempts to stitch the tears in the fabric make it look even worse than it used to be. His usually silver hair rings that sway in his dreadlocks are golden, like the sun. And to top it off he’s wearing a sandy colored scarf. It’s like the waves had washed him up on shore as if he were a lost treasure. Unbearably confident with sunflower seeds in his mouth but still a treasure.
Maggie stumbles slightly getting up, the blanket catching on one of her horns. She rips it off, not even hearing the fabric tear. Her head feels full of sawdust and her eyes are bleary. The words he speaks don't even register, but the tone does. That irritating, childish tone she has never allowed herself to miss. She couldn't afford to. Stalking forward, only slightly wobbly-legged, fighting the headache looming behind her eyes, Maggie stares open-mouthed for a second. "*You,*" she says, her voice still rough. Before he can respond, she throws her entire weight into an ill-advised front jab directly to his face.
The rough touch of her knuckles connect with Ode’s nose. Needless to say he wasn’t expecting that. “For fuck’s sake Mags,” he yells as he clutches his nose and maintains eye contact as he stands from the bed,” I get home and the first thing you do is jab me? I know you missed me but you got a fucking mouth for a reason!” He adjusts his nose and winces a bit before realizing their was nothing broken. “Hell of a punch though. Your late night tantrums must be REALLY giving you a workout. Your bed doing okay? I know the tears can make it a little soggy.” Even when he’s hurt, that sunshine smile of his never misses a cue to present itself much like that condescending wit. He straightens his back before throwing his hands up in a boxing stance,” And in case it wasn’t obvious, that was the only freebie you’re getting on me.”
Maggie draws back, rubbing her wrist, not entirely sure she hadn't sprained it. She'd never trained as a bareknuckle fighter. She sputters at his words. "Missed you? Tantrums? *Soggy*?! Do you- you haven't... do you even *know* what..." She falls silent for a moment, her mouth opening and closing, unable to form words. Wiping an arm roughly across her face, she glares at him. "You ruined *everything*!" she yells. "You *left* us and now... now they're *dead* and you want to talk about *TANTRUMS*?!" With a scream of pure, impotent rage, she throws the heavy glass bottle at him, hardly caring if she hits her target, just needing to do *something.*
Though he was expecting another punch, a bottle isn’t something out of the ordinary for Ode. With a slight hop back, he catches the bottle in one hand with a speed Maggie hasn’t seen for a long time. “Well since you’re having one right now I’d say now is a perfect time to talk about tantrums. Now, if you’d rather yell at me and try to throw some more shit my way-“ To punctuate his words, he tosses the bottle into the air and spin kicks it towards Maggie’s feet. As the bottle makes contact with the ground and shatters the shards are inches away from her toes. “If you wanna throw more shit, I’ll send it right back,” his fighting stance still remains but his mouth lowers into a concerned frown,” Now are we going to talk or fight?”
"Oh, now you want to talk? *Now*? Only now that half of us are... are gone? Not when you were being *weird* and *quiet* and losing?" She bends down to pick up the broken glass, thinking of AJ walking there later. She grips the shards just a bit too tight, the sting a relief from the hollow ache she's felt since Leak and Bana... Rising, she drops the glass into the rubbish basket in the corner, telling herself that she can always come back for it later, should she decide it was better suited to Ode's pillow. "I wanted to talk then," she says, quietly. "Or I wanted *you* to talk. I would have listened. I wanted to listen. But you didn't talk, and now they're gone. I was mad at you and I might have... maybe I would have seen, or I could have..." she trails off, schooling her face into a tight-lipped mask, refusing to look at him.
She doesn’t need to look at him. Her body language is enough. Ode steps closer, not close enough to get his eye gouged out by her horns but just enough. His eyelids close as his hands descend into his pockets, searching for the right words to say. “What happened to Bana?” His breaths are shaky, perhaps forced? “When Ma responded to my letter, she only told me about Leak.” The words tumble from between his lips thick with emotion. Guilt? Sadness? Apathy? It’s hard to tell as the gravely bass in his voice muddles the specifics but it’s obvious he’s not happy about his brother’s death only to find out his little sister bit the dust too.
"You would have known if you had been here," Maggie responds, unable to keep the spite from her voice. She returns to her cot, tucking Bana's shirt back under the blankets, keeping it safe. She turns, still not quite facing Ode. "She's dead. She died. She died and she didn't come back. What do you want, specifics? A fucking play-by-play? Go to any fucking tavern, anyone else will be happy to tell you all the gossip. I don't want to talk about it. I don't want to talk to you," she says, digging her fingernails into her palms, knowing her eyes were beginning to water again. Damnit, she hasn't cried in years, not even after Leak. But losing Bana too... it's too much. Everything is falling apart. She finally turns to face him fully, arms crossed, glaring. "Why did you even come back?"
Ode watches Maggie walk back to her for silently. He says nothing. He doesn’t seem to breathe anymore. The thought only returns to him when she finally faces him and the glare hits his soul. Now it’s his turn to look away. He trudges back over to his side of the room and sits, hands clasping together and eyes staring into his palms to look for another answer. When he can’t find one, he looks up to meet her gaze and it becomes obvious why he came back. “You, Ma, Bana, A.J., Leak, the food, the city, the people, the sand, the sun, the beach, the fights...,” he paused as he notices he’s been counting the reasons on his fingers,” What do you want me to say Mags? I got home sick and I wanted to see my family. I felt like I got my shit together and I wanted to come back to see the people that gave me that chance.”
His eyes don’t linger at the spot where Bana’s shirt is tucked for sister. The fresh wound on his heart would only get infected by sorrow if he let himself think on it too much. The weight of it is obvious as the tension in his shoulders makes his back arch forward. “Did you really think I wouldn’t come back after I found out our brother is dead and Ma’s fiftieth fight is right around the corner?”
The question isn’t accusatory. It’s plain. Simple and blunt.
"Oh you got homesick?" Maggie says, the resentment she's clung to, trying to ward off the sadness, finally coming to the surface. The words come out in a flood, now. "How nice for you. I hope your holiday was wonderful. It must have been nice! Things get a little difficult here, just take off. You think I've never wanted to travel? Never wanted to leave this place? But I have responsibilities. We have responsibilities. But you can't just leave, you can't just *abandon* people, Ode! You don't get to just... just abandon us and then come back like nothing happened. A lot happened. You left and they died and now everything is destroyed." She realizes that she's breathing heavily and stands back, pushing her hair behind her ears. Maggie hates how her voices sounds when she's like this, hates how she's being irrational, just like Ma always warned her.
Ode sits in silent for another moment. Much longer this time. If he was younger, he’d have probably deflected. Asked what responsibilities he had after losing over and over again. The crowd didn’t care for him anymore, he was deadweight to Ma, and no matter what Maggie did she couldn’t help him. He got out himself after he found his life had another meaning. He didn’t need to stay where he wasn’t wanted and if one person got hurt then too bad. Everyone gets hurt. This is probably what Maggie expected. The little brother of hers who couldn’t be serious even if he wanted, the one who would share his food if it meant getting an extra gold piece, and the scrappy brawler who lost it all after being on top for so long. But that’s not him now. So as he swallows the phlegm building in his mouth and breathes the words that come out next are bizarre. “I know... I know that now, Mags. Ma would never admit it but I know the old lady cared. Bana probably cried into your lap. A.J. probably slept on my bed and couldn’t sleep for nights. Maybe Leak even pissed on my sheets just to remind him that I exist. And you had to deal with it all. Like you always have.” He brings his hand over his face and wipes away the tears building in his eyes,” Mags I left because I reached my limit. It was a lot of shit and I wasn’t good at talking bout my feelings n shit. I’m not saying I’m good at it now but I’m doin better. You couldn’t have helped me, I needed to help myself. I wasn’t on a fucking holiday, I was in recovery. I was sad as shit because I felt like I reached my fucking limit. I was fucked up because I thought...” he takes a moment to grip his pants legs, almost stretching them,” I thought I’d never get out of Freeport. I thought I’d never leave and it fucked me up.”
Catching sight of the tears in Ode's eyes, Maggie feels her anger dissipate. She reaches down deep, trying to hold onto it, afraid that without it she'll fall apart. Again. She knows that Ma won't fall for the "sick" card again, probably didn't fall for it the first time. She takes a few deep breaths before she is able to speak. "Would..." her voice catches, so she clears her throat. "Would it... would it have been so bad? I know this place can be... it's not good, always. I know. The people here *suck*. It's dirty and the people give you dirty looks and the dirt just creeps in and you're not sure you'll ever be clean. That you're just dirt. We're... I'm just... Whatever. But our family is here. What's left of it. We were all here." Arms still wrapped around herself, Maggie sits on her bunk. She reaches down, picking splinters out of the unfinished wood. "We tried. I tried. I didn't know how to help but I guess it wasn't... it still wasn't enough, was it?" There is no accusation in her tone, just resignation. "It couldn't be enough. You can do everything you can and sometimes people leave anyway." Her eyes stare vacantly across the room. "They just leave."
One of the splinters sticks in her index finger, seeming to pull her back to reality. "Well. Whatever. What time is it, anyway? I have a job. I need to get ready for Ma's fiftieth. I'll give them more diamonds than they know what to fucking do with. Fucking medics."
She looks up, her eyes still red but focused. "Have you seen Ma and AJ yet? They'll want to see you."
“Mags...” The vibrations that would be words get caught in Ode’s throat. He’s reached his limit for heart to heart conversations today. He cough up any lingering emotions and spits them behind his bed before muttering,” I saw them on their way to meet with the sponsors. You know how Ma is with her meetings and A.J. gave me a hug.”
Ode stands and walks to the frame of the doorway where the family would usually bring their food so the beds wouldn’t smell worse than they already do. “Has A.J. said anything since I’ve been gone,” he asks before popping a few sunflower seeds in his mouth. The currently youngest sibling, A.J., is a brawler in his own right but perhaps due to his usage of a strange herbal steroid or some conscious choice he has not spoken since he told Ma his name. That was about 12 years ago.
Maggie hesitates for only a moment before answering. "No. I don't think so. Maybe? Probably not." She begins checking items in her satchel, strapping a few tools to her belt, wrists, and ankles. Thoughtfully, she continues: "I thought I heard him mumbling along to a song once in the tavern but... no, I definitely just imagined that. I mean, staying silent for a decade and your first words are the lyrics to 'Charlotte the Harlot'?" She snickers to herself. "I don't think so. I was two hogsheads of ale deep at that point, and you know how the ale at the Cracked Barrel is. You'll see and hear all kinds of things." "Anyway..." She scratches the back of her neck, staring past Ode's left shoulder rather than directly at him. "It was... nice? Catching up? It was something. It was... well. Welcome home, I guess. I..." Her eyes meet Ode's for a split second before darting away again. "I guess I missed you. Anyway, have to head out. Got things to do. Crime things. You know. Right. Right right right. Ahh... bye then," she says, pulling a dark scarf and cloak about her neck before rushing out the door, not waiting for an answer that she's not sure she's ready to hear.
And as suddenly as he arrived Ode finds himself alone as Maggie dashes out the door, the wind rushing behind her blowing his dreads to the side. He doesn’t get angry or try to stop her. “That’s probably the closest thing I’ll get to a heart felt welcome,” he thinks as he continues to munch on sunflower seeds. Unfulfilling but they keep him going. He leans against the wall closest to Maggie’s bed for a moment, lingering on the now shut door to make sure it won’t open again. Once he’s sure there won’t be any unexpected visits, Ode sits down on Maggie’s bed and rummages through her blankets until he finds Bana’s shirt. “Still too big,” he mumbles to himself before bringing the fabric to his cheek. Memories of carrying the yellow skinned tiefling through town and ruffling up her hair after every fight pour into Ode’s focus uncontrollably. The memories well in his eyes, almost getting the shirt itself damp in them but they remain in his sockets, not able to roll off into view.
The memories of his sister are still fresh even as he buries the shirt back under the blankets. He gives the burial a pat with his hand before rising up while muttering,” I love you...” His eyes glance around to the other empty beds. “All of you...”
He is thankful they aren’t there to hear him.