Trashed and Scattered

The late October chill blew the red leaves across the grass, collecting their beings into a mess of stems and jilted edges. Wiley pulled the zipper of his sweater higher, sinking his chin into the black fabric as he meandered his way across the yard. He was careful to step over the garden light his mother had forced into the soil, for fear of repeating the last loud scolding he’d received upon accidentally kicking it into a hundred tiny pieces.
Kneeling down to the ground, he set the heads of his mother’s roses atop the grass and proudly stepped back to survey his masterpiece. He’d been collecting florals all afternoon and upon their final placement, he was excited to share his work. It was perhaps his finest work to date.
He pranced over to the fence, stepping carefully onto the horizontal supporting board. Wrapping his fingers atop the perfectly leveled top, he popped his head over and peered around the neighboring yard. His eyes settled on a huddled Lexi right away, a fond smile spreading across his lips out of hard-wired habit.
“Okay! I’m ready!” he called to her, lingering along the pine until she was on her feet.
As her head disappeared around the side of the Winchester house, Wiley let himself drop back down to earth. He bounced in place with exuberance, anxiously awaiting the arrival of his guest of honour.
Lexi appeared in all her brilliance, a fresh wound stretching across her cheek, a shadow of blue and black coated along one green eye. Wiley dutifully did his best not to notice. She tilted her head with curiosity at the collection of flowers housed all in a row. At the end of it all sat her favourite stuffed animal, Rusty. He was a beaten and dingy beige dog that Wiley had been given as a gift from some estranged aunt for his fourth birthday. Lexi had taken an immediate liking to the dog, latching on with a fever. She’d never been allowed to own stuffed animal; a right she felt every girl her age was owed but she was, nonetheless, denied.
Rusty had unofficially been dubbed Lexi’s dog.
“What’s this?” Lexi asked.
Wiley grinned, spreading his arms apart to truly emphasize his creation, “Happy birthday!”
“I think you mean Halloween,” Lexi giggled.
Wiley’s smile fell a touch, “Yeah, but you weren’t allowed to come over yesterday. So today is your birthday...again!”
“Really?” Lexi burst with excitement.
Wiley nodded happily, “My mom baked you a cake and everything!”
“Why’s Rusty in the yard though?” Lexi laughed, moving passed the promise of cake and onto more important things—like there was such a thing.
Wiley grinned mischievously, “He’s the minister.”
“The what?” Lexi squeaked confusedly.
“The minister! Isn’t that what they’re called? Pretty sure.”
Lexi stared at her best friend helplessly.
“Wow, Lex,” he chuckled. “You’re nine now.”
She nodded slowly, “Yeah...?”
“It’s a big deal,” he told her seriously. “Which I think means you need a really cool birthday present.”
She squinted at him, “I’m listening.”
“What’s the best thing you could ever imagine?”
Lexi shrugged.
“I thought about it. And I think that the best birthday present ever,” Wiley continued confidently, “would be to make you a Sullivan!”
Lexi’s face shifted rapidly from confused to touched to enchanted.
“A Sullivan?!” she repeated loudly.
He smiled widely, “Yeah! You don’t want to be Peyton Winchester, right? So…happy birthday! You’re going to be Lexi Sullivan now!”
Lexi narrowed her eyes suspiciously, “Is this why you said I had to be a bride this year for Halloween?”
Wiley laughed, “Zombie bride. But no. I just wanted to freak out my mom.”
“She does hate zombies,” Lexi smirked.
“So? What do you think?” Wiley prodded excitedly. “Wanna be a Sullivan, Lex?”
Lexi giggled as Wiley extended his hand to her, wiggling his eyebrows by way of persuasion.
“Of course I do!” she beamed.
“Okay, Rusty!” Wiley called, leading his bride passed the roses. “Gather the beloved!”


An insistent ringing shook Peyton from her sleep. With a heavy hand, she patted the mattress tersely in search for the siren. A grumble beside her played into her senses, causing her eyes to shoot open with panic. She quickly whipped her head around, breathing with immediate relief as her eyes settled on a groggy Jimmy.
“Make it shut up,” he instructed with a groan.
Peyton grunted, “I’m trying.”
Finally, her fingers collided with the plastic. She pulled it open without bothering to check the ID, knowing fully well who would be so bold as to call before the sun had come up.
“Hello, Joanna,” Peyton huffed.
Her best friend grinned, “Hello yourself, Miss Winchester! Can I call you that? Miss Winchester? Or have you forsaken the name?”
Peyton rubbed at her spinning head, “What?”
“I’ve just had a lovely chat with your dear ol’ dad,” Joanna explained limply. “Are you okay?”
Peyton groaned, “I’m fucking tired. A bit drunk still, I think. But yeah, I’m okay.”
“Drunk? It’s fucking nine am,” Joanna laughed. “Did you have a Peyton night? Do you have a boy in your bed? I bet you do. I know how you get!”
“Shut up,” Peyton sighed. “It’s early.”
“Don’t you work or something?” her friend grinned. “You have to get up anyway so take me with you!”
Peyton glanced apologetically over at Jimmy only to find he’d fallen back into a deep sleep. How very nice for him, she whined to herself. With one swift movement, Peyton slid out from her bed and carried herself down the stairs. Only once she’d reached the coffee pot did she dare to speak again.
“Why do you have to call so early?”
Joanna chuckled, “Think of me like an alarm! But more fun!”
“My alarm doesn’t go off until ten,” Peyton growled.
“And more prompt too!” Joanna added cheekily.
Peyton rolled her eyes as she dumped the grounds into the maker.
“So, seriously, Pey,” her friend said, her tone far more serious than it been three seconds prior. “Are you okay?”
Peyton sighed, leaning her back against the cupboards with a dull thud, “Yeah...I mean…it’s definitely something we’ll talk about when I get home...but for now, I’m okay.”
“When you get home?” Joanna caught curiously. “And when, pray tell, would that be?”
“Soon,” Peyton breathed.
“Why don’t you sound happy?” Joanna asked suspiciously. “Don’t you miss me at all? Are you really that dead inside?”
Peyton groaned, “I do. I’m not.”
“Then why don’t you sound happy?” she asked again, lighter the second time around.
The brunette pursed her lips, searching the kitchen cabinets for answers. As if the knobs might be coated in secrets, just waiting to be pulled apart.
A sliver of Peyton’s being was elated by the prospect of returning home. She really did miss Joanna. She longed for the black walls of her shop and the familiarity and comfort of her bedroom. She was desperately missing her abundance of clothing, still hung up untouched back in her closet miles and miles away.
But there was that pesky voice in the back of her mind, ceaselessly barking at her to stay.
“Fine,” Joanna laughed after a moments silence. “Don’t say anything. I’m smart. I can figure it out. I don’t need you to tell me.”
“Jo?” Peyton eased slowly. “What do you think of fairy tales?”
Her friend hesitated, “Like Cinderella and all that?”
Peyton shrugged, “Yeah, I guess.”
“I don’t understand the question,” Joanna laughed. “I need more information.”
“Never mind,” Peyton half-smiled, giving her head an embarrassed shake.
Joanna smirked, “Do fairy tales have anything to do with your unhappiness? Did you meet the Evil Queen or something? What movie’s that from?”
“Snow White,” Peyton yawned.
“Which movie has that Mal…Malicious?...That’s not right. What’s her name? That bitch on your arm.”
Peyton laughed, “Maleficient.”
“Yeah, that! What movie is she from?”
“Sleeping Beauty,” Peyton replied flatly.
Joanna nodded her head as the knowledge soaked into her skull, “Right, right. Are you living a real-life Sleeping Beauty over there in California? Is that why you don’t want to come home?”
Peyton closed her eyes, doing her best to will the world away, “I never said I don’t want to come home.”
“You didn’t have to,” Joanna informed her. “And now you’re asking about fairy tales…I’m trying to make the connection. Want me to psychoanalyze you? Oh my god, imagine? I bet you’d be really interesting to dissect.”
Peyton’s brows furrowed themselves, “Are you done?”
“One sec,” Joanna replied blankly, still wrapped up in her visualization of Peyton laid back on a red velvet couch, vulnerably divulging her deepest, darkest secrets.
“Stop fucking picturing it!” Peyton instructed knowingly.
Joanna chuckled, “Sorry, I’m back. What were we talking about?”
“Nothing,” Peyton replied. “It’s too early for your circle talking.”
Her best friend snickered, “You love my circle talking. It’s the best part of me, don’t you think?”
“I could do without it,” Peyton grinned.
“You’re grumpy this morning,” Joanna pouted. “Have too much to drink last night? Now Poor Peyton’s head hurts?”
Peyton’s mind rolled over the events of the prior evening, most of which was a blur. But she found herself fixating on the needling conversation she’d had with Lauren. She tried her best to recall every single detail Lauren had exposed beneath the moonlight but came up mostly short.
Peyton sighed, “Jo, do you think fate exists?”
Joanna hesitated again, “Jesus. Who’s circle talking now!”
“I’m serious,” Peyton half-laughed. “Do you think fate exists?”
Her friend hummed momentarily in thought, “Hypothetically? Or, like, for you? Are we talking about Wiley? Tell me we’re talking about Wiley.”
“Why would you say that?” Peyton asked curiously.
Joanna scoffed, “Puh-lease. Because it’s you. And you’ve been spending a whole lot of time with him. Like a whole lot. Someone was bound to catch some feelings.”
“Jo—”
“Oh my god! He’s why you don’t sound happy to come home! I told you I’d figure it out! I’m so smart! Oh my god! Are you in love? Right? That’s why you don’t want to come home? You’re in love?”
“Stop that,” Peyton half-laughed. “It’s too early for an interrogation.”
“Hey, you’re the one that brought up a heavy-handed subject like fate!”
“I didn’t mean Jimmy. I was just thinking about something someone said last night,” Peyton confessed vaguely.
“Who?”
“Lauren,” Peyton replied simply, spinning around to finally fill the coffee maker with water from the tap.
Joanna pushed her brows to the top of her head, “And who is Lauren?”
“One of Jimmy’s friends,” Peyton smirked, knowing full well where this was headed.
Joanna was, for all intents and purposes, a jealous girlfriend. She was territorial over her best friend and didn’t take kindly to sharing. She’d grown up an only child and it showed. While Peyton, also an only child, was grateful for all friendships, Joanna had tunnel vision for those she cared about. She kept her circle small and important.
“Oh, I see how it is,” Joanna griped playfully. “You run off to California and find a new best friend! And I don’t mean Wiley either!”
Peyton laughed, “It was her party!”
“I don’t care if it was the damn Pope’s party, Peyton! How long have we been married? You know better!”
“Well come out here and stake your claim, bitch,” the artist teased. “Otherwise, Lauren might just steal me away.”
Joanna gasped, “Peyton Alexis, don’t even joke about that.”
“Oh shit, you middle named me!” Peyton stifled a loud laugh.
“Of course I did, you fuck! It’s been bad enough holding down the fort without you but now I hear you’re slutting it up around town with another woman!”
Peyton grinned, drowning in her affection for her best friend.
“Oh, Jo. You know you’re the only crazy woman for me.”
Joanna laughed, “Damn straight!”
A grumbling and yawning Jimmy appeared in the doorway, distracting Peyton in an instant. His lips curled into a distinct smile as Peyton waved sheepishly in his direction. He strolled to her side and firmly pressed the button to enact the coffee brewing festivities.
“Missed a step there,” he smirked, shuffling his feet to the table and collapsing into a chair.
“I was getting to it,” Peyton chuckled.
“Getting to what?” Joanna asked confusedly. “The fate talk?”
Peyton clammed up, “What? No. Can I call you back?”
“Let me guess, something—or someone—more interesting turned up!”
She smirked, “Something like that.”
“Better not be Lauren!” Joanna scolded with a hearty laugh.
“It’s not,” Peyton assured her. “I gotta go.”
“Is it Wiley?” Joanna gushed. “I bet it’s Wiley! I knew you had a boy in your bed! Yeah, you go! Go and confess your undying love! Tell him that you want to have his babies and—"
Peyton flipped her phone shut, blinking hard a few times to rid the sound of Joanna’s screeching from her senses. She tossed her phone onto the counter and shuffled her way to Jimmy’s side, plunking down into a wooden chair.
“I feel like shit,” she laughed.
Jimmy grinned, “Yeah, I fucking bet! You were pretty fucking drunk last night.”
“How the shit did we get home?”
He smiled, “We took someone’s cab. But you were fucking dead by time we got here so I had to carry you in. You’re kind of heavy by the way.”
Peyton gasped, “Fuck you! I am not!”
He nodded, his eyes wide, “Pretty sure I threw my back out. It hurts to breathe now, let alone, you know, move. I’ll probably never drum again! Better start cranking up the clientele, Lex. You’re paying my bills until the surgery.”
She grimaced, giving her head a shake, “It’s too early for you.”
Jimmy laughed, “Yeah, I get that a lot.”
“Besides endless bitching, what’s on your agenda today?” she asked curiously, eyeing up the coffee with disappointment to find it still pouring.
He shrugged, “Sleeping until I die. Care to join?”
“I wish,” she sighed. “But some of us have to work today.”
“Ah, yes,” he nodded. “Gotta earn my rent…and the medical bills too.”
She snickered, “Seriously, Jimmy. Too early.”
He smiled, folding his antics into himself, “Anything good on your artist docket today?”
Peyton shrugged, “Not really. I have an appointment at noon and you’ll never guess with who.”
“Who?” Jimmy asked flatly, too tired to give into the guessing game.
“A girl named Natalie,” Peyton stated.
Jimmy narrowed his eyes, “It’s probably not...you don’t think...she wouldn’t...”
Peyton laughed, “No, I think that’s a level of crazy even your ex-girlfriend wouldn’t stoop to.”
Jimmy didn’t look convinced.
“If it turns out to be your ex turned stalker, you’ll be the first to know.”
He smirked, “That would be fuckin’ crazy.”
“Either way, I’ll be done by four—you know, assuming I don’t get any walk-ins. Or murdered by some Natalie or another.”
Jimmy nodded.
“Want to grab an early dinner? Maybe catch that sunset we missed?”
He smiled, “Fuck yeah, I do.”
“Cool,” she smiled back, glancing over once more to find the coffee ready for ingesting. “Coffee!”
Jimmy chuckled to himself as her attention span fleeted. As she grabbed herself a mug and turned to him with an inquisitive look, he shook his head.
“I’m going back to bed,” he informed her. “Wake me up when it’s time for dinner.”
She chuckled, “Have a good day-sleep.”
“Have a good slave day,” he retorted, lingering at her side on his way passed.
She looked up at him curiously, doing her best to read the strange look scrawled across his face.
“Lex,” he said but quickly stopped, crumpling his face into a reluctant smile. “Never mind. Too early. Have a good day.”
He bent down and planted a quick kiss on her cheek before shuffling his way down the hall and up the stairs.
Peyton hesitated in place, his feel of his lips still tingling against her skin. She wondered what had been on his mind but forced herself to move passed it. If Jimmy had something to say, he would have said it—of that, she was sure.
Armed with a fresh mug of coffee and a rosy burn in her cheek, Peyton got ready for her day.

Notes

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