2021-12-07 - 15 Years In The Bottle

Another flat, grey, endless sky stretches out like a smothering blanket over Gray Harbor. Another shrill ring of the bell that marks the end of the 9-5 shift at the mill. Another steady troop of tired townies that trudge out into the still, cold autumn air.

Henry shivers and pulls the collar of his coat more tightly around his neck. He stands next to his car in the parking lot, a black Audi sedan, and keeps his eyes on those who are headed his way, searching for someone in particular. It doesn't appear to be a meeting that he is relishing. Or, at least, he seems nervous. He shifts his weight as he scans faces, and occasionally glances down to the gift-wrapped bottle of something or other that he holds in his hand.

Catherine doesn't look too excited that the work day has ended. Though her sullen expression must be a natural one rather than a true reflection of her emotions as she is carrying on a conversation with some other workers. Sure, it is mostly grunts and shrugs, but at least she is not yelling at them to go away. She even dares a raising of a hand that could be a 'see you later' gesture as she peels off towards the row of motorbikes parked near the gate.

Dressed in boots and overalls, there is a motorcycle helmet under her right arm and a satchel bag over her left. Catherine quickly ties her hair up and is about to put her helmet on when she spots something she very much did not expect to see. Now the sullen expression may reflect her emotions. The glint of anger in her eyes certainly does. Most of her wants to simply continue leaving without saying a word but that wouldn't be any fun. Placing her helmet on the bike seat, she walks straight towards her brother. Are her hands clenched as fists? Yes. Yes they are.

Henry involuntarily takes a step backwards, or, rather he /would/ if there weren't a big black car right behind him. The one he parked there. There is a dull thunk as his shoe heel hits the tire. "Hey, Kitty-Cat."

Catherine was probably six when Henry left for college, and he hasn't been back. Not until three weeks ago or so. He's guessing, however, by the expression on his sister's face that his old nickname for her didn't stick. "Um...long time no see." He risks a smile.

Kitty-Cat? Kitty-Cat! Judging by the way Catherine's eyes flare at that name, it is unlikely it has stood the test of time. It's a wonder she doesn't deck him there and then. But they are at his work and if she makes a scene, she might get the sack. Well-played, Henry.

"Not long enough" is her growling reply as she stops a couple of feet away from him. Catherine's gaze boring into his eyes before she looks him over with evident distaste. His car seems to make her even angrier. "You've done well for yourself" she notes in a seething tone. "I guess that happens when you've got no responsibility except yourself."

This is going well.

Henry swallows thickly, then looks to the car with a 'leave my baby outta this' expression. He doesn't seem to want to keep his gaze off of Catherine for long, however; he knows he's bought himself some time, but he's not sure exactly how much.

"Ki--Catherine. Look," he says in the most soothing tones he can muster, "I didn't come here to pick a fight with you. I just...wanted to say hi. I've been back in town for a few weeks and..." And what? And I only just now decided to say hello to my sister? His voice trails off. "I, um...brought you a present." He holds up the wrapped bottle. "I don't even know if you like scotch, but I'm told this one is pretty nice."

"You've been in town how long? You forgot how to get to the lumber mill? Forgot the address of our parent's place? You know, the house you used to live in. They might even want to see you." Catherine glares down at bottle. A voice inside her suggests using her 'powers' to rip it out of Henry's hands and smash it into that car that he obviously loves more than his family. But that would reveal too much. That would bring 'Them' back.

"You last seen me since I was, what, six? Seven? What was it about me as a child that said to you, 'I bet she would love a bottle of scotch'. Was it how upset I looked when you ran away?" They may have talked on the phone since then. Maybe even some e-mails years ago but Henry was not one for coming home. Or, at least, Catherine never saw him in the flesh. Just pictures her parents would sometimes show her. At least her voice is being kept to a dull roar. No loud yelling to alert the firm's security or her co-workers.

"You don't drink it yourself? Can't be that good then."

"Three weeks," Henry admits, with a low, slow exhalation. His free hand rises to run through the unruly mass of his hair. "I'm sorry I haven't come by before now," he continues after a moment. And he at least looks like he means it. "It's...hard to explain. And I feel like if I try to do that, it will only make things worse. But. When you get out of this place, and then come back..." He trails off, clearly at a loss.

Then the scotch bottle gets a look. "I thought maybe we could drink it. Together. I've had scotch before. Just not this particular brand. Single barrel. 15 years." He waggles it a little, then abruptly looks defeated. "Sorry. This was probably a shitty idea."

"It may or may not be a shitty idea. It was certainly a shitty way to do it. You haven't called mom or dad, have you." Catherine shakes her head, though more in disappointment than fury. "You are a fucking coward, Henry. Trust me, your lack of explanation is making things a lot worse already." She scuffs her feet, pursing her lips in thought as she tries to contain rage and think clearly. Not easy.

"Fifteen years, huh? They barrelled it when you fucked off? So, it's kind of like a celebration of your absence." She hates herself for conceding even a little. "That is worth drinking to." Her eyes narrow at her brother. "Have you come back to stay?"

"I -- yeah. At least for a while. I took a job at Addington Memorial." Henry nods in the general direction of the hospital. "Listen, Catherine. I -- I fucked up. Some serious shit happened to me here, and I ran from it. I admit that. I was absolutely a coward. But," and here he lifts his chin somewhat defiantly, "but I also lived to see another day." Unlike John. It goes unsaid, but it hovers over the two of them like that relentless gray sky.

"I saw mom and dad the first night I was here. They know I'm back." He glances down, then back up. "And I'm sorry that it's taken me so long to come and see you. You're right. I'm a coward. I knew you'd be upset. But. I'm here now. If it's not too late." There's a kind of question mark at the end of that sentence and he studies her face.

"Some serious shit happened to me too but I didn't get to run away!" Catherine spits back at him, voice finally rising to a yell before she glances around to see people staring at her, if only for a moment. Her next word is much quieter. "Fuck." A deep breath to calm her down before she truly loses it.

"Nice of mom and dad to tell me" she mumbles; they may get an angry encounter later. "I guess you're working as a shrink now. Probably looking for a patient you can write a book about. Someone like your crazy sister." There is much bitterness in her voice but Henry's quasi-question has her thinking. Is it too late for them?

Another "Fuck!" as she looks away from his querying eyes to find something interesting to look at on her boots, arms wrapped around her chest now in full defensive mode. "Fine. I'll drink the scotch with you...and then we'll see where we're at." No point in wasting a bottle of fine alcohol.

Henry watches Catherine for a long moment, unblinking as she works through this rather...intricate moment. There is some noticeable relief at her ultimate decision.

"I'm sorry that serious shit happened to you, Catherine," he says softly into that lingering silence. "But I was in no position to help you. I just would have made it worse. Like with John." His smile is sad. "Sometimes we have to help ourselves before we can help anyone else. " A beat. "No matter how much we live to regret it."

"Don't you dare say his name!" Catherine is on fire again. "He died because you weren't there for him. And you haven't been there for the rest of us either. We should be the ones that are proud we're still alive. Help yourself before you can help others? I heard that you weren't there for him because you were drunk. Is that true?" A nod to the bottle. "Ironic gift." Still, she said she would drink it with him and give him that chance to explain. Even now, she won't go back on that decision.

A jerk of her thumb back towards her bike. "I'll take my bike. Your new place I guess. Don't want to be drinking in the mill car park. I'll follow you."

"That's true," Henry says slowly and simply. He nods, then opens the door to the car, tossing the wrapped bottle in the back seat. "My new place it is. Oak Street."

And with that, he opens the driver's side door and slips inside. A moment later, the Audi purrs to life, and Henry leaves the mill.