Gena/Finn (26 page)

hung on the refrigerator
with a turtle magnet

Dear Genevieve,

All of us here at Stoneyhall wanted to get in touch with you as soon as we heard about what happened, but I fought tooth and nail to get to be the one to write to you first. We are so incredibly sorry for what you had to witness, Genevieve. It's always horrible when someone in our community goes through something traumatic, and even more so when it's a bright, compassionate girl like you.

Please know that you are in our hearts and that we are always, always here for you if you need us. We hope you'll get in touch if there's any way we can help, and please contact any of us if you need someone to talk to. I've included my personal phone number at the bottom of this letter. Call anytime.

With love,
Ms. Esme Prevot
(203) 555-0533

For You:

It's late. It's dark out. Bed in a few hours.

You're on your computer.

This isn't a good idea. There is not a chance fandom isn't still blowing up (there's a choice of words, good lord, never speak out loud, Finn) over the accident. I've avoided my computer since reporting that you were alive. I don't want to see what they're saying.

The thing is that, for most of the fandom, the relevant tragedy is Jake's death. And I don't know how I feel about the fact that I'm legitimately grieving about this fictional character when real people are dead. What I do know is that Zack was your friend, and you're my friend, and you're a mess and you shouldn't have to see people crying over Jake.

I tried to stop you, or maybe just distract you, to intervene in some way. “What are you doing?”

“Checking email.”

“Just email?”

You heard what I wasn't saying. “No.”

“Why don't we watch a movie or something?”

“Don't want to.”

“Evie...”

“Can you not, Finn? Can you just fucking not try to make everything fine for five fucking minutes?”

And that hurt, that still hurts, and I can't even deny it. Of course I'm trying to make everything fine. What would you do, Evie? You'd hug me and tell me jokes until I felt okay. But I've been doing that stuff for days, and you don't feel okay. This is too big. I can't help.

So now we've been sitting here for twenty minutes, twenty minutes of me sitting on the couch in front of you with every muscle tensed, pretending to watch some reality show but actually listening to every mouse click and every keyboard tap, and you're just now closing the computer. You look fine. You look calm. You walked around and you're sitting beside me on the couch and neither of us says a word. You stare at the TV with me, and we watch the people who aren't Jake and Tyler and don't talk about what we're doing.

I won't ask you what you saw on the computer.

You don't tell me.

You drop your cheek down to my shoulder like it's nothing.

You don't cry.

You don't cry, don't cry, don't cry.

October 17

Okay.

I feel like enough time has passed that we can talk a little bit.

I want to open by saying what I know we're all feeling – Zack Martocchio was a good man. He gave generously of his time and talent to his fans and he's a big part of the reason why Up Below is the incorrigible show we've all come to love so much. He was lost too soon.

But the announcement that Up Below will be staying on the air is really just proof of what we all knew – that this show is adaptable and is going to remain powerful no matter what. I think this is what Zack would have wanted. I think we'll be seeing a great new evolution of Tyler – he's going to be reckless, vindictive, angry.

I'm disabling comments on this post because I don't want to get into it with a bunch of jakegirls, obviously that's not what it's about right now.

0 Comments

Hey Gena--

Okay so I'm sending this to four different addresses because I have no idea which one is right, because your school said you weren't there anymore and was completely unhelpful about what address to send it to or if I could just write it to them and get it forwarded because Oakmoor is some kind of shithole, babe, but hello, fake Genas. And hello real Gena too, hopefully. Either way, I hope you enjoy the swirly lollipop. I blew a lot of money on these.

I miss you, girl. Let me know if I can come out and visit, okay? We'll hit it cali-style.

Give me a call when you can, okay? Remember how we made up songs about each other's numbers to remember them?

Miss you, Gena. Nice meeting you, fake-Genas.

Love,
Alanah

For You:

You're crying.

I can hear you in the dark, so dark I have to curl up against the window pane to see well enough to write this. It's heavy and slow, hospital crying, so quiet that I didn't realize it was happening until I felt the bed shake a little under me.

“Hey.” I petted your hair. “Hey, it's okay.”

You shook your head, and yeah, I know it's not. I know.

“Do you want to talk about it, Evie?”

“No.” It was barely a whisper. You still haven't talked about it. It's starting to feel weird. You and I talk about everything. You're slipping away from me, and I shouldn't care so much because you're slipping away from yourself. We have to figure out how to catch you, both of us together. Please together.

“What's in your head?” I tried, pushing the hair out of your face.

“Everything. Fucking everything.” You closed your eyes and lay there shaking.

I don't know what else to do, so I'm writing this with one hand on your back, singing songs from old TV shows, songs I don't know the words to, filling in the blanks with hums and random syllables. If you won't talk to me, I'll fill the space between us with whatever I have, for as long as I can.

You're still sobbing a little, quietly.

“It was my fault.” You've been saying this for a while now, no matter how many times I try to rub your back and rub it out of you. “I pushed. I pushed.”

I'll just stay here and breathe songs into your ear until you sleep, staring at your shaking back and out at the lights of the car dealership that stay on all night.

What if I really can't help you?

Stack of mail

Hey, Honey,

We were so sorry to hear about the accident! And I have to say, we were a little hurt that you didn't contact us. Imagine having to hear that you were involved in an explosion from a man who calls himself a key grip! We've tried so many times to call your phone. We've sent you several emails. Can you give us the number of where you're staying?

We were able to get this address from the hospital in
Humber River. Please pass along my contact information
to your friend Stephanie, along with this check for your incidentals while you are her guest. We understand you've taken a sabbatical from school. You're welcome in our home, if you'd prefer that, until you're ready to go back.

Spike and Thomas miss you...

xoxo
Aunt Jane

I think this is the last method I HAVEN'T tried to reach you. Can you just let me know if you're okay? I promise I won't bother you after that. I just...fuck, Gena.

–J

in Finn's sketchbook

someday I will write a perfect, epic poem

my magnum opus

and I will name it

tylergirl93 is a cunt.

I'll leave that my legacy, a huge goddamn middle finger to anyone who thinks that

maybe this is for the best

maybe it will be a stronger show now

like anything could possibly be stronger now

like someone dying is like taking a weight off

like a little dot,

a hundred and sixty pound TV-guide-magazine boy

a hundred and thirty scrawny shivering mess in his
brother-figure's arms

a ninety pound man of the house,

now it's gone and the load is a little lighter

instead of

there is one less person to pick up this fucking shithole
of a world

we need everybody

every pair of hands and legs and fists on board to hold us up, bracing arms across arms like cheerleaders in a pyramid

like goddamn warriors.

we need everyone

except maybe tylergirl93

because she's a cunt.

on a carefully folded sheet
of notebook paper

on the bottom of Finn's shoes

if I hear the name jake one more time i'll scream

(if I let myself believe that tyler never will again I'll die)

how do I tell steven that I lost two people

where are the funerals for dead decency

where's the hallmark card to send your parents that says

I miss him all wrong

if parents don't have to exist to be real

why should you

(i'll burn fandom to the ground)