2019-09-14 - A Walk In The Park

It's the perfect kind of day to be out and about in the park and so numerous families with children too young to be in proper school yet are here having picnics, running about, and of course enjoying the carousel. Clarissa is seated on a bench just far enough away from said carousel to not be too bothered by the cheery music, but close enough to watch the horses go up and down. She's talking to someone on speaker phone, which is really annoying the family with a baby behind her, "Michael--Michael. No. Everything you just said is wrong. I thought it said on your resume you graduated from Princeton, should I give them a call?"

The hospital is right around the corner from the park, which probably explains Abby. She's decided to enjoy this perfect day in the park on what may be some kind of break, since she's strolling around in pink scrubs. The top has a pattern of sunny little daisies. She's also got a cup of coffee in one hand, and her phone in the other, but she looks quite content to watch everyone else going about their activities while she nurses on her drink. She spots Clarissa and slows down, lifting an eyebrow slightly once she catches that bit of conversation. But she's got a big friendly smile ready to go as soon as Clarissa even glances in her general direction.

"It was Yale? Well, that explains it," Clarissa shakes her head in disgust. Yale! And in doing so Abby catches her eye, "Hold on, Michael, I'm going to ask someone nearby for their opinion--you there, from Elvira!" She waves a hand at Abby, "Do you think people would balk at eating chocolate delicacies in the shape of animals such as swans or dolphins? Or do you think having such things would be an elegant detail that people would love?"

"It's Elma. Go Eagles." Abby corrects Clarissa with a smile and a highly unconvincing bout of town cheer. But she draws close, sipping on her coffee-adjacent beverage. Her eyebrows are already rising and the corners of her mouth tensing in anticipation. Pausing, she gives the question some serious thought. "That's a good question. I think I would personally love it. I used to love, love eating things shaped like other things when I was little. Even broccoli. I'm a giant eating trees, grrrr! It's the only reason I ate them at all. But maybe some people will be squeamish about it. Especially the swans. They have awfully flimsy necks, don't they? Obviously they're not, but they look flimsy," she rambles.

Clarissa locks onto the only part of that ramble that she really cares about, "See? People love eating things shaped like delightful creatures. Now go ahead and order those chocolate swans." She presses the button to end the call before Michael can protest and nods to Abby, "I've seen these particular ones and they're solid chocolate rather than hollow so they hold up. They'll be easy to snap off if someone doesn't want to just bite down onto it." She makes a snapping motion like it's cool to just snap the neck of a swan. No big deal. "And I apologize for getting the name of your town wrong. Are the Eagles a sports team?" Clarissa does not look to be the sort of person that knows about that kind of thing.

"I kind of wonder if vegans might object, too. But unless it's vegan chocolate they wouldn't be eating it anyway, would they?" Abby muses. She's really getting into the implications of chocolate treats shaped like classy animals. But fortunately she pauses for another small sip, nodding as Clarissa explains about the swan necks. Apparently, she agrees. "Oh, it's fine. It's not very memorable. You could drive by it on the way to Olympia and not even notice." Abby shrugs. "It's the school mascot! I played in the softball team myself." And she rolls her eyes at herself there, then beams Clarissa a bright smile. "Where are you from?"

"New York. Manhattan, specifically," Clarissa basically beams with pride when saying that. She's not from here! "I lived in Boston for a little while before moving here, but I still consider myself a New Yorker. And we'll have vegan options, of course. And vegetarian and gluten free and nut free, honestly hosting a party these days is mostly just keeping track of a list of allergies." She finally seems to actually notice that Abby is wearing scrubs, "Are you a doctor at the hospital?"

"Oh!" A simple interjaction can say a lot of things. In this particular case, it means that Clarissa being from New York explains a lot, at least as far as Abby is concerned. Not that it's necessarily a bad thing. Look, she's still smiling. "Right! Maybe not vegan chocolate swans, though. You could have vegan chocolate - well, I don't know, some kind of flower maybe?" She's really all-in on this party planning business. She glances back towards the hospital and shakes her head. "No, no. I'm a nurse. What do you do? I know it has something to do with the historical society, right?"

"I chair the historical society," Clarissa confirms with a nod, brushing a bit of pollen off her skirt. "It mostly means doing community outreach, fundraising, and keeping apprised of what's happening in town." There is a pause as if she realizes this is where politeness indicates she asks Abby about her life, "So, what drew you to nursing? Do you have a specific speciality?"

Abby decides to take a seat. They're chatting, so she settles in on the opposite end of the bench with her cup, sighing and stretching out her legs, feet in comfy clogs. They're a clashing paisley mess. "That sounds really interesting!" She actually means it. "I like to sign up for that kind of thing when I have the time, at the hospital. Especially since I'm not from here, so I don't know that many people," she explains with a smile, then gets thoughtful at the question. "I don't know. There's a lot of jobs! And I like it. I feel like I'm doing some good. That's nice." She shrugs and takes a sip. "Not yet! I'm still doing rotations and - mostly I just haven't made up my mind yet."

Clarissa turns to regard Abby thoughtfully, seeming to actually be interested in hearing her replies, "What are your options? I don't know a ton about the medical profession," she trails off a bit when Abby mentions meeting people, "You'd think I'd know more people since I've been here for awhile but..." but there aren't a lot of rich people who want to associate with a possible gold digging husband murderer and poor people? Gross! "Part of why I want to throw a town wide fundraiser is to get people together so they can make connections. But if you tell anyone that it's more than a desire to make money I will staunchly deny it."

Yet another person talking on their cellphone! People can be so rude. Andy Geroux walks across the street from the police station and into the park, an iPhone pressed to his face. He's got on his usual on-duty outfit, the finest suit you can get at JC Penny, suspendies and his badge hanging from his belt. "...no, it's fine. Yes, I authorize it. She's told me that if it ever reaches four times a week that she won't do it anymore, but for now, yeah, keep it going." A pause, then, "Yeah, I know. We've got everything in order, I hope." Then, "Thanks." He presses the button to end the call, gives himself a quick pat down before finding what he's after, pulls up a sleeve and slaps a nicotine patch on a bicep before finally looking up at the very nice day in the very nice park.

Abby leans back into the bench, eyes moving from Clarissa to the park, watching the movement. "Gosh, there's a ton," she says, then takes a sip while she thinks. "My favorite teacher wanted me to go into emergency medicine. Said I'd be good at that. Or surgical. But it seems very in and out and done, right? You see a patient and then push them out the door or to critical care or..." she shrugs. "I don't think I could do intensive care. Pediatrics, maybe?" Then she just shakes her head and waves a hand through the air in a dismissive gesture. "I don't know yet!" She looks back to Clarissa with a smile and listens, then brings a hand up to her mouth and pretends to zip it up. Then throw away the key. Mixing gesture metaphors there. "That makes a lot of sense, though," she says, then looks away. And look, another new person nearby, so obviously Abby flashes a friendly smile in Andy's direction. That seems to be what she does.

"Emergency medicine seems like it would keep you busy around here," Clarissa offers, looking up when she hears Andy's voice and there's a flash of concern across her face at the subject matter of his call, but then she pursues her lips and looks back to Abby, "It might be good to have to push a patient out. I've only known you for five minutes, but you seem like the sort of person that could get attached to people that might not last otherwise. And losing someone--it can be difficult to have to deal with that day in and day out." she switches that sentence halfway through, clearly thinking better of something.

Andy gives Clarissa a briefly uncomfortable look, then glances back to the police station before approaching the pair. "I hope things are going slow and uninteresting for you, Missus Robbins." Looking to Abby his eyes can't help but take in those pink scrubs and after a moment he offers her a nod. "Ma'am. I hope things are going even more slow and far less interesting for you."

Abby makes a face, scrunching up her nose before giving Clarissa a look. "I know. And I turned down a job in Seattle because I thought it would be too crazy," she adds, nose scrunching up just a little more. "Well, it wasn't the only reason." Then she goes quiet and thoughtful for a moment. "I worked in a long-term - in a nursing home, before. I can deal with that. It's like, it's better to have loved and lost, right? That doesn't just go for romance. Maybe?" She doesn't sound too certain. "I guess I haven't lost anyone really close. Not like that," she says, then lifts her cup of coffee. It's almost empty. She flashes Andy a smile, the tiny wrinkle on her nose returning. "I wish. But I'm afraid they're keeping us busy."

Clarissa stiffens just a bit when Abby comments about loving and losing, looking away from both of them quickly. Then thankfully Abby changes the subject when she's speaking to Andy and she decides to run with that instead, "My life is always interesting, Sergeant. Have you met..." she pauses, trying to remember if she was ever introduced in such a way as to know Abby's last name. "Nurse Abby?" she gestures to the woman in pink scrubs, "She's from the next two over. Elra."

"Elma," says Andy, either mildly correcting or confirming. He gives Abby a quick smile. "Go <insert whatever the Teddy Addington High School mascot is right here>." He gives a little sniff, indicating he went to the clearly superior local school with all the self-importance of Clarissa saying she's from New York. Though it breaks a moment later with a more genuine smile and a nod to the nurse. "Nurse Abby, good to meet you. Sergeant Andy Géroux. To Clarissa he says, "My life has been interesting for the last two days. I wouldn't recommend it. A town this size shouldn't be putting out that many murders in six months. Goddam terrible. Reminds me of one of the reasons I was only too happy to run off to the other side of the country."

"Ugh, booo," Abby reacts to the local high school sports team, though that really felt a little perfunctory and lacking in aggressive school spirit. She finishes her coffee and sets the cup down by her hip, stretching her arms out while flashing Andy a bright friendly smile. "Nice to meet you, Sergeant!" The cheerfulness abates slightly at the mention of the last two days, a small concerned frown setting on her face. "It's crazy. And there just aren't as many police officers as in a larger town either, so I can only imagine how busy you are with everything. Please take care! We've had too many police officers in the ER lately."

Clarissa grimaces briefly at the mention of the murders or maybe just all the police talk, "Perhaps you should see about hiring more," she offers to Andy, "Maybe if the criminals around here didn't think the police department was so...lackluster they'd be less inclined to stay and cause problems. Maybe the training programs need to be looked at. Or are they all the same?" She waves a hand to indicate that isn't a question she's actually interested in hearing an answer for. "Either way, I'm definitely making sure my doors are locked at night."

"I've only returned to down a few weeks ago, Missus Robbins, so I'm afraid I can't take full responsibility for your perceived issues from which the department suffers. However I will pass on your concerns to the appropriate persons," his trash can, "and we will see if we can't work to better fit your idea of how an ideal police department runs." Andy gives the very rich woman a possibly-too-genuine smile. "Perhaps we could look to the NYPD for a model. Choke holds and profiling, all day every day." To Abby he says, "The only thing I'm really in danger of are paper cuts and flat feet. When they offered to start me as a sergeant it didn't occur to me that it meant less time on scene and more time reviewing paperwork."

Awkward. And Abby without any coffee left to sip. Her eyes bounce between Clarissa and Andy, eyebrows ever so slightly arched. The smile stays on, warm and positive in spite of it all, as she ignores that entire branch of the conversation. "Oh no, I've already seen a couple of pretty gruesome office accidents. Be careful around printers, just in case," she counsels Andy with a small, strained smile and a hint of a flinch. "You know, they both happened on the same week. I've never seen anything like it. The ER was packed every day for like, a couple of weeks. I wasn't even supposed to be working ER but they had to get extra staff," she comments with a shake of her head. "So be careful, anyway."

"Watch out for paper cuts, then," Clarissa offers helpfully to Andy with a sniff herself. Hmph. Cops. "Hopefully you can whip the place into shape once you recognize how bad off they all are." Abby's description of horrific things captures her attention then, "Sometimes I wonder why so many people end up moving to this town. It seems to have more than its fair share of bad luck. It's nice to know that they can increase the ER staff if necessary even if they can't do so at the police department."

Abby's warning about printers gets a grin from Andy, though it fades quickly once he realizes that she's not making some sort of dark joke. "I... really?" He tries to imagine this. Struggles. A paper shredder, sure, that's a real tie danger. But a printer? "Was it a continuous sheet printer?" Those rollers could fuck a badger up. "You know what? I'm set. I'll avoid printers. Probably good life advice for everyone." To Clarissa he says, "Would it make you feel better to know that the national average is just under 21 police per 10000 citizens, so Gray Harbor has over twice the number of police of most cities of this size? That it still might be enough suggests problems at which you may need to do more than throw bodies."

Abby offers Andy a small reassuring smile. "Oh, I'm sure your printers at the PD are perfectly safe!" Clearly, she's just saying that to make him feel better. "Well, we were still short-staffed, so things slowed down in other departments. But some things can wait a little longer than others. Anything involving people gushing blood tends to be on the urgent side of things, in my experience." Pause. "We had to pull in janitorial staff from other areas, too." Then she draws a breath. "There was a job opening. It's not as small as Elma and it's not as big as Seattle. And it's not halfway across the country?"

"Well then, Sergeant, since you seem to have a head for numbers I'm hoping you also have a nose for police work or whatever it is they call it," Clarissa replies with a thin smile, "And maybe us concerned citizens will stop being so concerned and this lovely overworked nurse will stop being so busy." Abby gets a bit of a more genuine smile, "While I hope to never end up in the ER, it is nice to know that there are caring, attentive nurses like you ready to help. Boston definitely had the better hospitals when I lived on the East Coast, but until you settle on your specialization, Gray Harbor will certainly give you experience."

"Boston. Good hospitals. Terrible pizza. Honestly not sure it was a worthwhile tradeoff, and I say this as someone who ended up at Beth-Israel after I got hit by a car while trying to cross Commonwealth against the light. The staff was great, but I had one good hospital experience versus dozens of truly terrible pizzas." Andy thinks for a moment, then adds, "Lot of racists, too." Andy nods to Abby. "It's not a bad place. Though it's a bit of a..." He wiggles his index finger in a lazy circle. "...black hole? No, that's a little too negative sounding. Vortex? Everything eventually gets pulled back in."

Abby smiles again and lifts her shoulders in a tiny shrug, starting to stand. "Thank you. And it's still better than Elma. Though maybe that's just me," she admits, mouth twisting slightly to the side as she listens thoughtfully to the two. "I'm hoping not to move any time soon. I wouldn't mind not having anything to do. I could just play cards all day! But unfortunately there's always lots of work. That's why we rake in the big bucks!" She leans down to pick up her empty coffee cup. "Speaking of which, I really need to go back. No major catastrophes right now, and I'm not working ER anyway, but still! It was nice to talk to you again," she says to Clarissa with a warm smile. And it was nice to meet you, Sergeant! Sergeant Andy, right?" She checks out her watch, wobbles her cup and slips off. "Sorry, sorry!"

Clarissa gives Andy a bit of a strange look when he describes the place as a vortex, rubbing a hand along her arm and suddenly clearly uncomfortable. She raises a hand to wave to Abby as she says she has to go and then turns her attention to Sergeant Andy. "Why do you say that? About this town? It's not like there's a whole lot here to draw people in." Says the woman that moved out and then back rather quickly after her husband's death.

Andy shrugs. "There may not be anything here to draw people back in, but people still seem to come back. I grew up on the res, my gran dies and she could move us to Hoquiam or Elma or Olympia or anywhere, but we ended up here. Then I leave, get out to Boston and DC and Portland and now I'm back here. Hell, even the progression of places I lived is my getting closer to just coming back." Andy grimaces, glancing back toward the police station. "You came back, right? Something drew you in and you couldn't shake it off."

Clarissa opens her mouth to protest but the words feel pretty hollow on her tongue so she closes it again pretty quickly. "...my husband died here. He must have loved something about this town for him to uproot us and move us here. I think I just want to know what that was. Too many unanswered questions to go somewhere else, as much as I'd like to."

"I think my father may have been from here. Which is funny, since I'm pretty sure he was Quileute through and through. Though maybe not that funny. After all, the Quinault Nation weren't always confined to the reservation. Before you people got here we were all over." Andy gives a slight shrug and looks back to the police department. "I should probably get back to work. Have a good day Missus Robbins." He looks back at her, expression somewhat strained, then turns to go.

Clarissa very carefully does not look at him, folding her hands in her lap and keeping her attention on the laughing kids in the carousel. "You too, Sergeant."