I was a heavy heart to carry

Leave any voicemail or text messages for Lucy Carrigan here.

Perhaps the strangest part of this is that she’s been here before. Not in circumstances entirely the same, of course, not even close, but it’s distinctly uncomfortable even so, reminds her of being seventeen and getting the news — seeing those two soldiers leave — that Daniel had been killed in combat. That may have been another lifetime ago, memories grown hazy with age, but Lucy hasn’t been able to stop thinking about it over the past few days, since she first found out that Tommy hadn’t survived the Purge. She’d still been his emergency contact, his listed next of kin. They’ve only been broken up for a month and a half. There hadn’t been time to change anything. She hasn’t even found a goddamn apartment yet. Now…

Now, she’s got to bury her very recently ex-boyfriend. Someone she’d loved. Someone who’d wanted her to marry him. Maybe it didn’t work out, maybe it was never going to, when they wanted such different things, regardless of how long it took them to figure that out, but that doesn’t mean that whatever she felt for him could disappear so easily. Nothing went wrong this time. No one disappeared, and no one cheated. There weren't cracks that spread farther and farther until only the slightest bit of pressure could get it to break. They just went their separate ways.

That wasn't supposed to involve Tommy fucking dying. For weeks, she'd worried about what might happen to her bar when the Purge happened. It never occurred to her that she should have been worried about her former boyfriend instead.

She just sits there, numb and closed-off, for the service, her face pale, the black dress one she'd had to buy for this occasion. Partway through, though, she reaches over to grasp Eden's hand. She isn't sure she could have done this alone, and Eden is her oldest — maybe her only — friend now. It helps, as much as anything can.

After, stepping outside, she exhales heavily, drawing her coat a little tighter around herself. The weather has finally turned, actually feels like fall for a change. There's something fitting about that, the dead leaves on the trees and underfoot, the gray sky and the brisk air. It wouldn't have seemed right, walking out into a hot summer day instead. "Thanks," she says, turning towards Eden, voice a little rough, a little thick. "For doing this with me."

A few weeks ago, they'd joked about her needing a vacation. Even knowing that it was probably the truth, at the time, Lucy hadn't thought she'd ever actually take one, or that if she did, it would be because of circumstances beyond her control. With snow already on the ground from days before, though, and a big storm rolling in, she hadn't had much choice but to close McCormick's early on Friday, sending everyone home and locking up, hers hardly the only business in Darrow to do so. Rather than going to her own place, though, she'd gone instead to Tommy's, and she can't pretend it was for any sort of convenience when she lives so close to work. It's just the only thing to make any sense, without any way to tell when the roads would be cleared, when the last thing she needs is too much time alone, stuck in her own head. Increasingly, she's been finding that there's hardly anyone here she would rather spend time with, anyway.

Even having followed the weather reports, though, and even having planned ahead, she still somehow isn't entirely expecting it when Saturday doesn't show any sign of the snow letting up. It doesn't take much for her to determine that there's no sense in trying to get to work, and after calling everyone who'd been scheduled to come in, she settles in to wait it out, grateful now that she'd thought to come here instead of staying home. As often as not, this is where she would rather be anyway, even if there are still times she feels like she's only just finding her footing here.

A blanket around her shoulders, she stands at the window for a few moments before heading back towards the bed, shaking her head. "It's still really coming down out there," she says. "If I didn't know better, I'd think you arranged this on purpose to make me take a couple days off work."

Just the way it always seems to, everything happens all at once.

When she thinks about it like that, Lucy can't say she's all that surprised. She'd known this was going to happen, or at least thought it would. Those few months of relative peace after everything went to hell before could never have lasted. She just didn't think everything would come to an end quite like this. In retrospect, she'd been lucky back in the spring. It had been a lot happening, a hell of a lot of losses all at once, but at least it hadn't been in quick succession like this. At least it hadn't been nearly all of the people she has left at once.

After days of hearing things, talk of people winding up somewhere else and coming back a few days later like what happened to Max a few years ago, she'd known something might happen. Having Max call to tell her about Brian hadn't even seemed that unexpected, after waiting for the other shoe to drop, for something to go wrong. Thinking that might somehow be it, though, that had been foolish. It only took her a day and a half to figure that out. A day and a half, and it's like the entire world's gone out from under her.

She's not even sure, now, how many times she's lost Max, or thought she did. What she does know is that having it happen now, she feels like she can't breathe, which has been the case from the time she first found out to the time it's taken her to walk to Chelsea Cloisters. In a way, it's worse for not knowing what's going on, if he's gone or if he's coming back. She remembers too well what it was like when he got back before, how obvious it was that he'd been through hell. The thought of that happening again is just as difficult to deal with as the thought of him having gone home, or wherever the hell it is people wind up after this place, and there's no way to determine one way or the other what might be the case this time.

It's enough to leave her reeling, not even paying much attention to where she's been going. She's too preoccupied, anyway, calling Raven a few times and getting only voicemail, sending a few texts and getting nothing in return. She needs someone, right now, and the two people she'd usually go to first are gone or missing or something. The lack of response is only further worrying, though, and finally, in a fit of desperation, she calls Gutters, only to be told that Raven hasn't shown up for work in a few days.

Everything happens all at once. That's nothing new. But there are only so many people she can lose before there's no one left at all.

Already outside, she makes one last-ditch effort at contacting her friend, but just as she expected, there's no answer when she heads upstairs and knocks on Raven's door. That leaves her with only one place left to go. The smart thing to do, she thinks, would be to call ahead, to see if Tommy is home at all before showing up at his door unannounced, but already she's having a hard time thinking clearly. She needs to do something or she's not sure she'll be able to keep it together, and at least Tommy's apartment is already close.

She nearly trips over her own feet as she runs downstairs, all but holding her breath as she knocks frantically on Tommy's door. A lack of answer might not mean anything, not yet, but, God, she hopes he's home.

It's become something of a pattern. When she's not at McCormick's, where she spends most of her time, she often goes over to Max and Brian's — that is, when they're not fucking each other's brains out, which she fortunately knows very little about but is still well aware is what's going on. Lucy tells herself it's just easier. It's closer, if only a little, than her own apartment is, and neither of them has seemed to mind so far, and it's nice, actually being able to spend more time with her brother now that he isn't living with her ex-boyfriend anymore. Plus, with him working for her, their hours often wind up roughly the same, so it's convenient, heading back with him for a while instead of all the way to Ocean View, or going over there beforehand and going into work together.

What it's really easier than, though, if she's entirely honest with herself, which she doesn't really want to be, is going home. It isn't as if she's never there, but when she is, it feels stifling. There's too much she hasn't dealt with yet, too much she doesn't want to, and all it really does is serve to remind her of that, and of how happy she was a few months ago. The fact of that now only makes how much things have changed since then seem even worse.

At least Steve gets it, or she thinks she does, or he just hasn't mentioned it. Then again, he's busy himself, their schedules rarely aligning, so maybe it doesn't seem like that much of a change. She hopes so. If she were ready to deal with this, she would have by now. Instead, making her way towards the nearest subway stop, she tries half-frantically to think of something she can do that isn't going back to an apartment where it feels like the walls are closing in on her. There aren't exactly a lot of options here, or it doesn't feel like there are.

Lost in thought, she almost doesn't notice Tommy nearby. When she does, though, she smiles slightly, genuinely pleased to see him. "Hey," she says. "How's it going?"

It doesn't occur to Lucy until she's already partway through cooking, her counter a mess, that she hasn't actually ever done anything like this before. Oh, she's alright in a kitchen, even if she has more experience serving food than preparing it for a group, but she's never tackled Thanksgiving before. In past years here, she went to dinners held by someone else. On the island, too, there were always people who put something together for the holiday, but she never had any part in cooking for them. Before that, there was the one fall she spent in New York, but that was different. She'd been far too busy to spare this kind of effort, and too broke besides, and anyway, with Max gone, it hadn't seemed worth it.

They're both here now, though, and it seems fitting on several levels, both because things have been fucking rough lately and she knows it, and because she feels for the first time in what feels like a long time like she has a lot to be grateful for. If there's one thing she's learned in the years since she was last at home, it's that that isn't something to take for granted. So whatever she might think about Thanksgiving and its origins, it seems worth it to make the most of, to bring together the people she and her brother care about most.

No matter how hectic, it turns out to be pretty fun, too, flitting around her kitchen, a record on the record player, stopping to kiss her boyfriend when she has a moment free. By the time people start showing up, she's still not quite finished, but close enough to it that she can head out to mingle. It feels good, doing this, having everyone here. Chances are, something will wind up going wrong before the night is over, but at least it's unlikely that it'll be half as bad as the explosions they used to have at the dinner table at home.

She almost doesn't realize it, when the date approaches. With everything that's been going on, and all the time she put into helping Neil organize Steve's surprise party, Lucy hasn't paid much attention to her own approaching birthday. It's only glancing at the date when she checks her phone after waking up in the morning that alerts her to it. After that, it's still difficult to think much of it. It's been a long time since she really celebrated her birthday, and there's no reason why this year should be any different. She wouldn't be surprised if Steve had something planned for later, but as far as she's concerned, it's just a day like any other.

Maybe turning twenty-five would have been a big deal, once. If there's anything it means now, though, it's just further proof of how far removed she is from the life she had back home, which Lucy will at least allow has been relevant lately in a way it wasn't for a long time. She's older than the brother who was born before she was. She's nearly seven years removed from the train wreck of a relationship she had in New York, back when she was fresh out of high school, a girl still figuring out who and what she wanted to be, having her whole life turned on its head. These days, that girl feels like someone else entirely. It's more than just in age that she's come a long way since then, anyway. She's practically lived lives. At least this one, lately, has been better than anything she's experienced in a long time.

Without any real destination in mind, she gets dressed, pulling on jeans and a t-shirt and walking the short distance out to the boardwalk. It's nice out here in the morning, probably more so than it will be a few hours from now, and it feels right, anyway. She's about as far from the years she spent on the island as anything else, but with as long as she lived there, there's something comforting about being near a beach.

This is stupid.

Actually, Lucy is pretty sure that's true on several levels. While it may be the case that it's been a long damn time since she's been on a date — more than two and a half years, by her count — she can't think of any earthly reason why she should be this nervous. She's known Steve for almost two years now, been close to him for one. Maybe there was a bump in the road for a while recently, but that doesn't change the fact of how much he means to her, how much time they've spent together. Hell, as far as she can tell, they were practically dating before they were dating — and she'd been nervous then, too, and not known why. At least now they're really aware of what they're doing.

That, though, she could probably rationalize. Which leaves her unable to tell which is worse, the fact that she's gone out shopping for a dress for the occasion, or that she can't stop making such a big deal out of the fact that she's gone out shopping for a dress for the occasion. People do this, they get dressed up to go on dates, and when she's had no reason to do so since showing up here, there's nothing she already has that she can wear. This isn't her making too big a deal out of it, or so she tries to tell herself. She's just doing what she has to.

Knowing that doesn't leave her feeling any less out of her element as she scans the dresses hanging up in a boutique, what seemed like a better idea than searching aimlessly through a department store. Regardless of where she goes, the price of something nice is bound to make her wince. A few, she's already passed up because of the cost, thinking it unnecessary. It isn't as if she often spends money on things that aren't necessities, though, and while a waitress's salary isn't much, what she gets from the city each month just about covers her rent. Even keeping in mind the possibility of having to help her brother out now that he's unemployed, she can afford something like this.

Some of them, anyway. Cringing at the price tag on one, then hoping the saleswoman doesn't notice, she takes a deep breath, about to move on, then spots a familiar face nearby. "Hey," she says, smiling a little. "Raven, right?"

It's a good distraction. Even if it weren't, Lucy never minds watching Mack and Flo, having grown unbelievably fond of the girls in the years she's known them, but as it is, these days, she could use just about every chance she can get not to be stuck in her own head, too. Of course, it's tempting to want to spend all her time at Max's side, but a broken arm only requires so much assistance, and the real wounds aren't ones she'd be able to do a thing about. Besides, she doesn't want to hover. With that being the case, no matter how fucked up the rest of her life seems right now, an afternoon like this is very much in order.

To say that it's quiet would be a massive overstatement, given that Mack and Flo are rarely, if ever, that, little bundles of energy instead. But they're well-behaved, at least, which she's more relieved by. Her nails are newly varnished with glitter, and there's a smudge of blue along her cheekbone, nail polish having prompted the two to use their actual paints. She's just finishing washing it off when there's a knock at the door — unexpected, when Neil isn't supposed to be back for a while yet.

"Lucy, someone's here!" Mack calls, as if she hasn't heard that herself already. Lucy can already hear the two of them making their way to answer it, but she gets there first, wanting to make a point of seeing who it is first. When she opens it, she's glad she does, her breath catching in her throat. At first, she isn't even sure who it is, only that he's clearly been handed his ass and then some. Things have been fucking weird these past few days, though, something she's been pretty well-attuned to working at Semele's, where some of the regulars have been different, to say the least. Knowing that, and seeing some of the familiarity in those features, plus the fact that he's at Neil's door, she thinks she's pretty sure after all of who this is, and it's the opposite of comforting. "Jesus Christ," she says on an exhale, frowning. "Steve?"

Lucy thinks she might well be the only person who serves food for a living only to then choose to do so in her free time, too. Objectively speaking, it seems kind of ridiculous. But these days, she thinks that free time amounts to more than she really knows what to do with. Apart from her shifts at Semele's and hanging out with Max whenever their schedules allow it, there isn't exactly a lot she has as far as obligations go to be worrying about, and having too much empty time to fill is a surefire way to leave her listless quickly. For months, she's felt like she's been drifting, anyway, just going through the motions, waiting for something to happen. As it always does, it helps to have something to throw herself into, and volunteering at the soup kitchen fits the bill pretty well.

It helps that she and Steve have been doing so together, too, though she's not sure she'd be able to put that into words for herself. But there isn't a lot she's had going for her here, and his company tends to make her forget that. It also makes the hours pass more quickly. She'd do this sort of thing anyway, but it's better, always, not to be on her own, and this is no exception. Hell, just to be reminded that she's not, if only for the time being, would go a long way. God only knows how long it will be before things go south again.

At Semele's, she'd take advantage of having a break and go to the back alley for a cigarette, get some air, have some quiet, clear her head. She likes her job, she does, but it can drive her crazy half the time, and dealing with clientele like they usually get can wear on a girl's patience. Here, though, she feels good rather than worn out, turning to Steve with a smile. "You wanna find somewhere to sit down for a few minutes?"