2019-12-06 - Day Drinking

(TXT to Ciprian) Beth : Can we meet up tomorrow? I just had something incredibly fucked up happen and I don't know what to do with myself.

(TXT to Beth) Ciprian : Of course. Can we meet for breakfast after I drop Ashira off at school?

(TXT to Ciprian) Beth : Okay, but can you just come over after you drop her off? I think I will loose my shit and I'm afraid of people seeing me.

(TXT to Beth) Ciprian : That's fine. I'll be there around 8:30, is that okay?

(TXT to Ciprian) Beth : That's okay.

(TXT to Beth) Ciprian : Okay, I'll see you tomorrow.

True to his word, around 8:30 Ciprian appears at the funeral home. He enters through the public door, looking around and calling, "Beth?" He's wearing a suit, as is usual for him on a work day, but he doesn't look in any particular hurry to get to work. Instead, he looks concerned, of course, though as he waits he does grab one of the pamphlets there are for grieving families so that he can peruse it briefly in the manner of one who likes to read things and probably finds something wherever he goes.

One of the funeral attendants, a young man in his early twenties whose youthful gangliness and large adam's apple makes him look ill fitted in his suit, comes out of the office. "Beth is upstairs. She's not feeling well today." He explains before he says, "You can head up and knock on the door if you-" Just then the door upstairs opens, and Beth calls out, "Ciprian? Come on up."

The door is unlocked. Beth is sitting on the couch in a camisole and skirt. The jacket is draped over the back of the couch. Her pantyhose has been peeled off and left on the floor in a balled up pile. She looks like she hasn't slept yet.

Ciprian looks over at the young man who appears, setting aside the brochure as his eyebrows raise. "Okay," he starts to say, but then he hears Beth. "Thanks," he says to the other man with a lifted hand and a little wave, before he starts upstairs. The scene he comes into has him pausing on the threshold, his eyes widening in mild surprise -- of course, she did say that something fucked up just happened to her.

"That bad, huh?" he says with a little smile, but it doesn't quite reach his eyes. He looks more concerned than anything else. He starts into the room, taking a seat on the couch, near but not right next to her. "What happened?"

Beth has an arm wrapped around herself as if she can hug herself tight enough it will all be okay. She reaches for her glass of whiskey on the coffee table and lifts it to her lips to take a sip. "Uh, well last night I called the Medical Examiner because this girl I picked up had signs of foul play. So Yule Duchannes shows up. You know him? I think he's around your age and went to our high school." She has another sip. "So, uh, he examines the body, we call the cops, and then we go back downstairs to move her. And..." She trails off, and her face contorts. She runs a hand over her face before she continues, "We were moving her, and she was alive."

Ciprian nods at the mention of Yule when she asks if he knows him, but he doesn't interrupt further than that, just lets her continue. When she does, there's another little widening of his eyes, and he sits back, looking around and then past her to the door, as though there's suddenly going to be a corpse bursting through. Of course, there is not, and his shoulders relax a little bit as he turns back to her. "Wow," he murmurs. "That's...a lot." It's an understatement, and he seems to know that it is, but still. What else can one say?

Beth turns her head to look into his face when he says it's a lot, and her eyes gloss over. "That's just the beginning of it all. She was trying to get up, but her bones kept breaking, and we couldn't help her and all she could do is scream and..." Her breathing picks up a little, and she puts her hand on her chest like she can feel her heart beating. "And then Mr. Robinson uh...deceased in my refrigerator? He started beating on the door to let him out. And we did, and he fell and smashed his face in, and the girl was crying blood and..." She sniffs, and rubs her wrist over her nose. "And then it was like it didn't happen at all."

"Oh my god." Ciprian looks...well, pretty horrified. If Beth, who does not get horrified by much to do with death, is horrified, then it stands to reason that Ciprian would be extra horrified. He is generally a stoic man, but his face is a shade paler at the retelling. "I'm sorry," he says. There's a brief pause before he goes on. When he does, he's a lot more quiet, and he looks around again, this time as though he's worried about being overheard. "Have you ever heard of the Veil?"

Beth puts her whiskey down and actually leans forward a bit to put her head more level with her knees. She takes in several deep breaths to steady herself before she sits up straight. His question gains a curious look from her before she shakes her head. "No. Does it have something to do with the waking dreams? Cause I've been having them more and more often."

"Yes," Ciprian confirms, settling back against the couch and letting her take a minute, before he goes on. "It's not a dream. Well, it is a dream, but not a dream. It's...you wandering in the the Veil. I don't know everything about it -- my sister knows more. I just know enough to stay away. There are things that can feed on you there, in dreams. In the Veil. It's thinner here in Gray Harbor, or at least I think that's right."

Beth watches his face as he talks and there is a look of supreme anxiety on it. "So that's why it's so strange here? This Veil thing?" She pushes a hand through her hair before she reaches for her whiskey again. "Is there any way I can stop it from coming? I've never felt unsafe down there, and now I can't make myself go to the basement." She takes a swallow of the whiskey and grimaces as it burns down her throat.

"Yes. That's why." Ciprian reaches up to rub his face as he lets out a little sigh. "I don't think so," he says after a moment. "I think the more you use...whatever you have," and here he makes a little vague gesture between them, possibly encompassing them and their abilities both, "the more likely you are to get pulled in. But I almost never use mine, and I've still been pulled in. I don't think there's a way to stay out of it fully, unless you move away. Nothing like that ever happened to me in Boston, but I couldn't stay there. I didn't want to leave Riya here by herself."

Beth leans her head forward briefly. "I guess I have been using it more. It's just...people come to me, and they are so hurt, and it feels wrong not to give them a moment of respite from the pain, even if it doesn't last long. I remember when my brother died I would have done a lot just to numb the pain for a little bit." She finishes off her whiskey and reaches for the bottle. "I can't move away. My entire life is here." She pours more whiskey into her glass. She may be a little drunk which is a harsh thing at 8:30 in the morning. "Fuck. I'm going to need a therapist."

Ciprian doesn't look like he's judging -- not at all. Certainly there are people who use it more than he uses it. After all, he'd just said that he literally doesn't use it at all. "I understand," he says, still quietly, though this time his tone has taken on a different timbre, and there's sympathy in his expression. He does, however, have to let out a little laugh at her last words. Sure, it's not an amused laugh, but it's something. "Yeah," he says with a nod, "probably. I should have one, too." He watches her for another few moments, before he continues, "I'm sorry." For any number of things, really.

Beth takes another swallow of the whiskey, crunching on a piece of almost-melted ice. She looks at Ciprian when he tells her he's sorry. "Thank you. For being such a good friend." She looks away and down at her arms. "I hooked up with my ex the night before Thanksgiving. It's funny cause if you had asked me who I would have called for something like this before it happened I might have said him. Depending on my mood. But when it actually happened? I just knew it would be easier to talk to you."

Ciprian smiles when she says this, and this time it's an actual smile. Sure, it's small, but it's genuine. "Well," he says, "sometimes when you take sex out of the equation, it makes things easier." He shrugs, "Not that I'd call myself an expert on that, but I'm glad to be your friend. It's been...hard, since Harriet left. I don't have that many people I can talk to, either. I'm trying to get out more, and you're one of the people helping me with that, so thank you."

Beth nods her head softly in acknowledgement of what he's said. "Maybe that's all that was left between us, and that's why I didn't call." She says, and she sounds a little sad, but mostly she's tired. She turns her head to look at him while he speaks, and there is some sympathy in her eyes. "I'm sorry for your marriage. I mean I don't know her I just know what she did to you, and I don't know if you were actually happy, but it's still a bit like a death? The end of something like a marriage, I mean." She takes another swallow from her glass. Her cheeks are a little rosy from the whiskey.

"Yeah. It is." Ciprian shrugs again, lifting a hand to wave it away -- whatever 'it' is. "Things end, I guess. I mean, that sounds trite but it does help. You grieve about it, too. Not in the same way, but sort of. I feel like it's even a little bit stranger, and you get less closure because the other person is still here and walking around somewhere. You could potentially see them around. So it's kind of better for me that she's really gone, because I don't have to run into her all the time."

"Do you know where she is?" Beth asks curiously, and she takes a swallow from her second glass of whiskey this morning before she stands up from the couch, and falls back down with a snorting laugh at herself. Even trauma cannot kill the amusement a drunk person feels at their own awkwardness. "Has she contacted you at all?"

"No." Ciprian shakes his head, almost a little bit too hard. "I don't know where she is, and she hasn't contacted me." Another little laugh escapes him then, though it's more with her laugh than at the subject matter, which is not amusing, unless you like dark humor. Which some people so, and it's a valid choice! "Maybe she'll eventually want to see Ashira, and I'll have to deal with that then. I'm kind of dreading it, honestly. But hopefully she'll just go her own way and let us go ours."

"So you only know she hasn't dropped off the face of the planet cause she signed the divorce papers?" Beth wonders aloud before she says, "That is rough. I'm sorry." She finishes off her whiskey and thankfully doesn't reach for a third glass. That might be a bit much for nine am. She does lie down, her knees bending so she doesn't put her feet on him because, as they'd established earlier, they don't know each other like that.

"Yeah, more or less." Ciprian leans back when she lies down, leaning his head back and crossing one ankle over the other knee. "Thanks." He's quiet for a long moment, just sitting there thoughtfully with her, until he continues reluctantly, "I should get to work. I'll check in with you after, all right?" It's not really a request -- sure, he asked, but he'll probably do it anyway.

"I think I'm drunk enough to sleep so now would be a good time to slip out." Beth says, and she reaches for the throw on the back of her couch to wrap around herself. "Thank you. For coming over, I mean."
There is a pause before she begins, "And...uh, if you do come over later, can you not bring your daughter? I think I'll probably be drunk or high if I'm being completely honest." She smiles apologetically, "I figure I've got one day to be fucked up over this and then it's back to work."

"Good. I'll cross my fingers for you, anyway." Ciprian smiles, and he stands up, picking up the empty glass and the bottle. Not in a judgey way, but just like he's trying to be helpful. He does nod, though, at her last words. "Of course. Thanks for the warning." He heads toward what he figures is the kitchen, and when he comes back it's with a glass of water which he sets in the place of the whiskey. "Get some rest. I'll see you later." That said, he turns toward the door.