Gena/Finn (24 page)

how can you not k

I've been distracted, okay?

I might be in love with two
different people and that might
make me the most awful
person I know.

and evie's losing her mind and
lying to strangers and writing
weird poetry on random
scraps of paper

and zack martocchio is dead,
and

Oct 3, 3:24 am

and Jake is dead?

I'm an appalling person

come to bed, appalling
person.

>>upbelowfiesta: the party never dies

October 4

Roll call:

By now, most of us have heard the news of the fire on the set of
Up Below
. A lot of really irresponsible rumors are going around, so here's my attempt to put some of those to rest – and I'm only going to post VERIFIED FACTS here, guys, no hearsay. If you've heard about any of the cast or crew, let me know in the comments, but please, no gossip, only cold hard 411.

So, the news:

We know Carl Casden is okay, because he gave an interview. In it, he mentioned a hospital in Toronto, but he didn't say who had been hospitalized.

This article suggests multiple deaths.

We have a photo of Toby Frost in an airport. You can sort of see the date on the list of flight times behind him, so we know this is after the explosion.

Anybody heard anything about Zack Martocchio, any of the writers, the showrunners, etc? Please comment!

>>>>Tylergirl93 reblogged this and added: this article confirms three deaths. Thank god Toby's okay

>>>>MioMy says: word of _EvenIf?

>>>>Tylergirl93 says: haven't heard

>>>>finnblueline says: _EvenIf is safe and with family

on the back of a receipt for tilapia,
celery, and minute rice

When Jake was my brother it was hotter,

Los Angeles and dust clouds and Spanish screaming

we drank Kool-Aid out of plastic bottles

We twisted off the caps and left them on the black floor

the one with the carefully placed fluorescent crosses
and circles

this is where you stand, this is where you move.

Zack and Genny played onscreen together

billed under their wrong names

and me and Jake undressed in the green room and drafted text messages to Alanah

For You:

Sometimes being with you is like Chicago again, when everything was easy and fun and falling into place. Except it's even better, because we're together with Charlie in the room to see what we are, and so you can get to know him, and so I can really work out how it all fits together. He likes you. I can tell by the way he messes up your hair when he's leaving for work, by the way he brings home coasters from the bar because he noticed you collecting them from around the house.

I really, really hoped it was going to fix everything.

But it's not working out that way at all, and not for any of the reasons I would have expected. Charlie's spooked, but he's trying. I fall asleep with you as many nights as not, and it's warm and comfortable and he looks in on us before he goes to bed and smiles like a father, and on one memorable day he brought a blanket and kissed your forehead and you squeezed his hand a little as he was leaving.

Last night we all watched TV together – something frothy with a laugh track, nothing that'd make you think too hard about anything – and now I'm awake in the middle of the night, staring at a blue show's-over glow on the screen and the two of you curled up together like cats.

I wish I could say everything was better, Evie. More than
anything.

across several of the coasters
from Charlie's bar

When Jake was my brother it was More than Oak

it was cottonwood swings that scraped your back when you fell off

it was people who called me Genny

and people who called you Zack

when Jake was my brother

when things could be touched

I know it was you because you were the one who held me when the voices left

You were the one who pulled me away from deadlines

you were the one who cuddled me in a blanket in my dorm on Monday nights

when you were my brother it was pornography in our heads and we had no idea

For You:

Today was my first day back at work. At least, it should have been. Actually, it turned out to be the day I lost my job. And also, incidentally, the day you lost your mind.

I really didn't see this coming. I don't know how. God knows no one could say I've been employee of the year. I guess I forgot everyone else's sun doesn't rise and set with you. I guess I convinced myself it was okay.

My things were in a box behind the receptionist's desk. She handed it over without any acknowledgment that she even knew who I was, and a manager came and escorted me from the building, I guess in case I got violent or something. All of this should probably upset me more than it does, but the truth is that I'm just relieved. You've been staying home with just Charlie, who sleeps a lot during the day and just doesn't know you like I do. He can't take care of you like I can. I want to be the one taking care of you. Oh, hell.

There's no relief in what's happening to you, just empty horror, and I'm sitting awake replaying it in my head instead of worrying about where the hell the money's going to come from now.

Charlie made spaghetti for dinner. He loves to cook, and I love to eat. It's a good partnership. He was all expectant and cute putting food in front of you for the first time, trying to hide his anticipation in chatter about work and the extra shifts he'd picked up because we need the money.

You pushed the spaghetti around on your plate.

“Isn't it good?” Charlie's not always so anxious to please. He likes you. He wanted you to be happy with him. My Charlie.

You nodded, too fast, too hard.

“Evie, what's wrong?”

“Stop,” you whispered, pulling your knees up to your chest. “Stop, stop...” and you were crying into your spaghetti, hands pressed to your ears, shaking your head over and over.

You're in bed now, still crying, rocking back and forth, and I've never felt helpless like this. I don't know what to do.

“Shut up,” I can hear you whisper. “I'm not yours.”

For You:

I woke up alone in the middle of the night. We fell asleep together in the guest bed, but when I woke up you were gone.

Charlie was in the bedroom, sprawled all the way across the mattress, no you. The kitchen was dark and empty. I checked corners. Nothing.

I've been worrying about this for days. If you ever left the apartment, you could go anywhere. This isn't your town and you're not in your right mind. You could be wandering the streets or fucking abducted or...shit, I don't want to think about it.

There are relative lulls, and then the world explodes.

No, that's not fair.

It's not fair to equate the sound of shattering glass from the bathroom with an explosion. Not now. Not anymore.

But my heart was fucking vibrating, still hasn't settled, and the bathroom door was locked and you weren't answering, and I started seeing spots, and Charlie was behind me out of nowhere shouting in his I-think-you've-had-enough-to-drink voice, his don't-fuck-with-me voice.

I've been worrying about you slipping away from me for days.

Shit, I don't want to cry, I don't want to get out of control right now.

I found you standing in the dark staring at what remains of our mirror, your hand a mess of blood and glass.

“I had to kill the real one,” you whispered, in that voice I'll never forget.

posted on the fridge

I know it was you because Zack was beaming in
interviews and kissing his Shakespearean love child

You were the one who was with me

You were big brother and I was little sister

We were Gena and Jake.
When Jake was my brother Zack was alive

off somewhere in someone else's fantasy

burning fiery inappropriate

your machine anatomy.

For You:

I'm on the roof tonight.

I never would have thought to come up here. This isn't something I would have done on my own.

The wind is whipping the pages in my journal, so forgive my bad handwriting. I'm having to hold the thing down with one hand and write with the other.

It's a miracle that I'm up here at all. I was coming back from checking the mail (bills, bills, and a care package from my mother that will probably include some newspaper articles about the crime rate in San Francisco and Los Angeles, because she hasn't grasped that that isn't where I live, and possibly also some Nutella). The hallway was breezier than it normally is, and on impulse I looked around the corner that leads to the fire escape exit and found it propped open.

You're lucky that alarm's been broken since we moved in.