Every man supposes himself not to be fully understood or appreciated. ~ Ralph Waldo Emerson
~ ~ ~
Hi, my name is Jeanette. Isn’t that a pretty name? I picked it out myself, but it isn’t my name all the time. Sometimes my name is something else. I can’t remember what. Carrie tells me sometimes, but I always forget.
The first time I saw Reeves, he was wearing a blue tie. I remember because he had blue eyes and when I saw his blue tie with his blue eyes, I thought that it was lovely. I waited patiently for him to come and talk to me, because all of the men in ties would come and talk to me eventually.
But he took a long time as he talked with some of the other men in ties, so I sat in my chair with my arms folded and waited. While I waited, Carrie came to talk to me.
“Hello, Carrie,” I said happily. I liked it when Carrie came.
“That’s Kevin Reeves,” she told me. She meant the man in the blue tie.
“I like his tie,” I told her.
“The last time I saw him wear a tie was years ago.”
“You know him?”
“I used to,” she said, looking at him. “He’s the reason why I’m here, you know.”
“Really? I’ll say ‘thank you’ for bringing you to me.”
“Don’t. I hate him.”
This confused me. But Carrie wouldn’t talk to me anymore after that, so I waited longer. I couldn’t hear what he was saying as he talked to the other men, so I just looked at him. He had brown hair that was a little too short and a beard that was a little too long. But his eyes were so beautiful, even from as far away as I was.
Finally, he seemed to be done talking and he came to the plexiglass window that was between us. There was a phone attached to the wall next to him and he picked it up. His voice came in from speakers mounted on the wall inside my room. I didn’t look for the speakers anymore. It used to confuse me, to see someone talking in front of me and hear their voice coming in from all sides, but I’d gotten used to it.
“Carrie?” His voice was small and unsure. It didn’t match the way he looked: tall, broad and strong.
“Carrie’s not here right now,” I told him. “I don’t know where she went. But you can talk to me if you want. My name is Jeanette. Isn’t that a pretty name? I picked it out myself. It wasn’t always my name though.”
I had talked enough for my turn, so I was quiet so he could talk. But he didn’t. He just looked at me for a moment, then turned and spoke to the other men. They said something and he looked back at me. I waited, but he still didn’t talk. He looked sad. Carrie came back and talked then.
“Why are you talking to him? I told you that I hated him.”
“He looks nice,” I told her. I was annoyed at her for interrupting his turn.
“He’s not,” she said angrily.
I ignored her then and focused on the window again.
“I’m sorry. Carrie can be kind of mean sometimes.”
It took a moment for him to talk, but finally he did.
“Yes, she can, can’t she?” His voice was still small and unsure. It made me said. I hoped he didn’t talk like that all the time. “Um, is there anyway I can talk to her?”
“Carrie’s very shy,” I told him. “She usually only talks to me. Is there anything you want me to say to her for you?”
He hesitated.
“Carrie, I…” He paused and seemed to think of something different to say. It took him a long time and I squirmed because my jacket itched a little, but I waited patiently. Finally he spoke again.
“Tell Carrie that I love her and that I’m sorry.”
“Sorry for what?”
He looked very hard at me then and I was a little uncomfortable with how long his blue eyes stared at me. I closed my eyes so I wouldn’t have to look at him.
“I’m sorry… for everything,” he said finally, then hung up the phone. I heard the click as it came down. I opened my eyes and he was turning away from the window. I saw him wipe his eyes. Had he been crying? Did I make him cry? What did I say?
“I’m sorry,” I told him, but he didn’t hear me as he went to go talk to the other men again.
* * *
If the doctors noticed his tears, they didn’t say anything. Reeves wiped them away as best he could so they wouldn’t show, but he was certain that someone noticed. The whole conversation had just been so unnerving. And yet, he was glad he came.
“As you can see, Mr. Reeves,” one of the doctors was saying, “we’re doing everything we can. We think it would be best if she remained here.”
“What would happen if I tried to take her home? Haven’t her abilities-”
“We can’t be sure. We have never had an accident here, due to safety protocols, but outside the hospital, we can’t be sure. There are many, many variables, not the least of which is that we aren’t even entirely positive her abilities are existent at all.”
Reeves rubbed a hand across his face.
“This is all my fault.”
One of the doctors laid a hand on his shoulder.
“Not at all, Mr. Reeves. It’s not anyone’s fault. With her lifestyle, this was almost inevitable.”
Reeves turned and looked at her, staring after him with a look that had no recognition in it at all.
“I know,” he said. “That’s why it’s my fault.”
There was a paper on Reeve’s seat on the bus, but he didn’t bother to pick it up and read it. He couldn’t help but see the headlines, however: “Red Power to be given keys to the city”. He sat on the paper in contempt, hiding it from anyone who might be passing.
He stared out the window the entire ride home, but didn’t see anything. He would have missed his stop had his neighbor not tapped him tentatively on the shoulder on her own way out of the bus.
“Kevin? Are you headed home?”
He jumped a little at the contact and looked up at her. She smiled at him apprehensively.
“You seemed a little zoned out. Are you getting off to go home or are you going somewhere else?”
“No, I’m getting off. Sorry, Suzanne.”
He let her go first, then climbed out of the bus after her. She fell in step beside him as they walked towards their apartment building.
“Kevin…” she started, then hesitated. Kevin looked at her, surprised. Normally they didn’t talk on the way back to the building. The most they would say was a polite “Good night” as they split off at the entrance.
“Sorry,” she said, looking embarrassed.
“No, it’s all right. What’s wrong?”
“I was just going to ask if you were all right. I mean… You look upset.”
Reeve looked down at the sidewalk as they walked.
“I just had a rough day,” he said. He could feel Suzanne still looking at him, waiting for him to elaborate, so he lifted his head and met her gaze, but didn’t say any more.
“I’m sorry,” she said finally, then looked away. They walked the rest of the way to their apartment complex in silence.
“Good night, Suzanne,” Kevin said as they went in opposite directions, and she lifted her hand and smiled in a sort of parting, but didn’t say anything.
* * *
Carrie was back and I was angry with her.
“You don’t have to be so rude!”
“I told you not to talk to him. That means I don’t want to talk to him either. And I don’t want to talk about him.”
“But he said he’s sorry. Why is he sorry? How do you know him anyway?”
“I’m not talking to you anymore, Jeanette.”
“You’ve said that before.”
“I mean it this time.”
“You’ve said that before too.”
Then she sulked and wouldn’t talk to me anymore. I was angry, but then I remembered something. Carrie thinks I don’t know, but she talks to herself when I’m asleep. I found out when I first came here, when the men in ties showed me a video of Carrie talking and asked me if I remembered it at all. I laughed at them then - because how could I remember something that Carrie did if I was asleep? - but Carrie never found out that I knew. It’s the only secret I have from Carrie, but she has secrets from me, so I don’t feel too bad about it. I decided that I was going to pretend to sleep and then let Carrie talk while I listened. Because I wouldn’t be asleep, I could hear her and she’d never know.
I didn’t know he would come back, but he did. I smiled at him this time as he sat down in front of the window. He seemed more relaxed as he picked up the phone.
“Jeanette, right?”
“Hi.” I tried to wave, but my arm was stuck, so I just smiled wider. “You’re Kevin, right? Kevin Reeves?”
“That’s me,” he said and he smiled. He had a wonderful smile, even when it was surrounded by the beard.
There was a moment’s silence and he looked thoughtful.
“Do you…” He paused. “Do you know who I am?”
I laughed. “Yes. You’re Kevin Reeves. You just told me.”
He looked a little sad then and I knew this wasn’t what he meant. I thought hard, trying to think of something to cheer him up.
“Carrie told me about you,” I said. It was a little lie, because I had just overheard it from Carrie. She hadn’t actually been telling me. But he seemed interested again.
“She told me that people thought you were a hero,” I continued. He suddenly looked very nervous, looking behind him at the men with ties. They didn’t seem to notice and he leaned in very close to the plexiglass.
“I’m not,” he said nervously. I frowned.
“Carrie told me. Carrie doesn’t lie. She said that you used to be a s-”
He closed his eyes and held up a hand in a “shush” motion.
“That’s rude,” I said. He opened his eyes and looked confused.
“What-”
“Interrupting people. It’s rude.”
“I’m sorry. It’s just…” He looked behind him at the men in ties again. “That’s…” He leaned closer and his face looked very serious.
“This is a special secret that only Carrie knows. Can you keep it a secret?”
I nodded. I was very good at keeping secrets. I only told Carrie and she already knew this secret, so I didn’t have to tell anyone at all.
He frowned then, but he didn’t look mad, only upset.
“Did you tell Carrie what I said yesterday?”
“I did,” I said proudly. I always remember things like that.
“What did she say?”
I frowned then, but I wasn’t mad, only upset. I spoke quietly because I was sad to have to tell him.
“It wasn’t very nice,” I told him.
“But what did she say?”
I told him. He looked sad and I felt sorry for telling him.
“I think she was just mad,” I told him. “But I wanted to ask you: Why is she mad? When she talked to me later,” - again, a little bit of a lie because she hadn’t actually been talking to me - “she didn’t talk about you as if you made her mad. She told me about how you danced one time.”
His face changed then. He looked confused, then upset, then nervous.
“She told you about that?”
I nodded. I waited, but he didn’t say anything more about it.
“Are you going to come back again?” I asked him.
“Yes,” he said.
I smiled at him. I liked him, even if Carrie didn’t.
* * *
When Kevin got home, there was a new message on his answering machine. He pushed the button and listened to it through his open bedroom door as he undressed.
“Hi Kevin, it’s Suzanne. I was just, you know, calling to check up on you. You’ve just seemed a little down lately and I was worried. I wanted to know if you’d like to, um, come over for dinner sometime or have a beer and just do something fun. I mean… Um… Yeah. Give me a call back, okay?”
The machine clicked off. Kevin sighed and hung his tie in the closet. Suddenly the phone began to ring.
Kevin was down to his underwear and he hesitated, but all the curtains were closed in his apartment, so he went into the living room without bothering to put on pants. The portable phone was buried underneath a pile of junk mail on his sofa and he dug it out right before the machine clicked on. He answered it without looking at the caller id, and then instantly regretted it.
“Kevin?” The voice was young, male and familiar.
“Chris?” he asked, just to make sure.
“Yes. Kevin, man, it’s good-”
Kevin hung up the phone, then pulled the cord for the base out from the wall. He went to bed that night thinking about dancing.
She had been waiting at the bus stop before he got there that one morning. He had never seen her before and so didn’t pay much attention more than was needed to avoid bumping into her as he walked past to sit on the bench. It was drizzling just a little bit out, but neither of them had umbrellas. They just waited together, him sitting and her standing.
She spoke first, turning to him as if she had just noticed him, even though he had been sitting in the same place for over three minutes.
“You seem awfully familiar,” she said. He looked up, startled.
“I, uh, get that a lot,” he stammered. It was actually true, too. “I guess I just have a familiar face.”
“Do I know you from anywhere?” She cocked her head, looking at him a little more closely. She had a pretty face, oval and delicate, with short black curls of hair framing it. He would have remembered had he met her anywhere. It was a face designed to be remembered.
“No, I don’t think so.”
She looked at him harder, bending over a little to put her face somewhat level to his.
“I could swear I’ve seen you somewhere before…” She peered closer. Suddenly her face lit up with recognition.
“Yes, I know! I recognize you now! You were in the paper!”
Her voice was loud and Reeve looked around nervously, hoping no one heard her.
“I think you have the wrong-”
“No, it’s you! I recognize the little mole!”
She pointed to her own chin, indicating the spot on his chin where a small mole resided, small but prominent.
“You’re Everyman, aren’t you?”
Damn his mole. She was being far too loud and was sure to attract attention soon. And the bus was coming. He could see it rounding the corner up the street.
“Listen,” she was saying, “I’m not going to tell anyone. I’m just… I’m your biggest fan. Could you… could you…” She was rummaging around in her bag. He tried to edge away from her, but she lifted her head then and stopped him, grabbing his sleeve and shoving a pencil and paper at him. “I’m sorry, but can you sign this for me?”
Would it make her go away? Watching the bus approach out of the corner of his eye, he scribbled his fake signature on the paper. He tried to hand them back to her, but she was just staring at him with an excited expression.
“I just… I can’t believe it’s you. That I… You…”
She seemed overcome with feeling then and couldn’t speak, just waved her hand in the air and then covered her mouth, gazing up at him with shining eyes.
“Wow,” she said, the word muffled beneath her hand.
“It’s been very nice meeting you, uh…”
“Carrie,” she said quickly, her hand still muffling the sound.
“Uh, Carrie. I’m sorry, but I’ve got to go now.”
The bus was at the stop by then and the doors swung open with an agonized shriek of under-greased hinges.
“Wait!”
She grabbed his sleeve again.
“You don’t want to take that bus.”
“Why not?”
“You just don’t. Believe me.”
He looked at her for a moment, memorizing her pretty face, promising himself he would be avoiding her in the future.
“This is my bus,” he told her.
“No, you don’t want to take this bus.”
“Yes, I do.”
The bus driver honked the horn impatiently. Reeve tried to pull away from her grip on his sleeve, but she was stronger than he would have expected.
“Ma’am, I-”
“Carrie,” she supplied quickly.
“Carrie,” he snapped, pulling his sleeve away, “I really have to go now.”
“No.”
She all but tackled him then, wrapping her arms around his shoulders and pulling back with her entire weight. It wasn’t enough to make him fall over, but it certainly stopped him. The bus driver gave them both an incredulous look, then pulled the lever to close the doors.
“No!” Reeve called, trying to extricate himself from her grip. She was very strong, but so was he and he didn’t want to hurt her. But the doors had already closed and the bus lurched forward.
“What… What are you doing?” Reeve demanded, finally getting a grip on one of her wrists and trying to pull her off.
“Uh… Dancing with you?”
She was insane, he decided, still pulling on her wrist. She clung to him like a monkey.
Suddenly an explosion roared down the street. Reeve snapped his head around just in time to see the back of the bus rear up like a bucking horse and then fall back down the asphalt.
“Nice dancing with you,” Carrie said from behind him and then she was no longer clinging to him. He whirled around, but she was gone. Swearing, he turned again and ran towards the bus.
The rear end of the bus was completely destroyed and the driver ended up with a concussion and a cracked rib, but there were no other casualties. The bus had been completely empty at that hour. Carrie had saved his life, Reeve realized. It wasn’t until that evening he had found out the whole thing had been her doing in the first place.
* * *
Carrie wasn’t happy, but I was. Reeve came back every day for several weeks. Some days he looked happy and other days he looked sad, but he always came. He was the only person who had come to visit me that long and it was nice.
One day, he came and he had shaved his beard. His hair had grown out to be almost a little too long, but with the beard gone, it didn’t matter. It made him look younger, like a little boy.
“What happened?” I asked. He rubbed his chin. It was a different color from the rest of his skin.
“I just decided it was time for something different.”
“What happened to his mole?” Carrie asked. He blinked.
“I, uh, got it removed.” His voice was quiet and unsure again, like it always it was when he was talking to Carrie. But Carrie was gone already, not listening to him.
“I’m sorry,” I told him. “She’s just grumpy.”
“Why?”
“She doesn’t like you,” I told him. He looked sad.
“I like you,” I said quickly and he smiled a little. Now that his beard was gone, his smile was even more wonderful.
“Why doesn’t Carrie like me?” he asked.
“I don’t know. She won’t tell me.”
“Why do you like me?”
“You’re nice,” I told him. He smiled, but it was a sad-looking smile. But he wouldn’t tell me what was the matter.
I tried to ask him about it the next time he was there, but he didn’t want to talk about it.
“We always talk about me,” he said. “I want to talk about you.”
“What about me?”
“I don’t know. What about you?”
I tried to think of something interesting.
“I’m an angel,” I told him. He laughed a little.
“Sure you are,” he said, but I could tell he didn’t believe me.
“I really am,” I said.
“Right.” He was smiling at me. “And I’m Batman.”
That confused me.
“Nuh-uh… You’re Everyman.”
He looked around nervously.
“Not anymore.”
“Well, I am an angel. Carrie told me so.”
He looked sad.
“All right. If Carrie says so.”
I remembered something then and I was sad.
“Actually, she told me I used to be an angel, but I’m not anymore. Just like you used to be Everyman, but you’re not anymore.”
He just looked at me and smiled sadly.
* * *
When Reeve got home one day, there were three messages on the machine. All of them were exactly the same.
“Hi Kevin, it’s Chris. Look, I, uh, I’ve been thinking. I know you’re angry with me. I would be too. I’d really like to apologize. Can you meet me at the coffee house tomorrow out there? I’d really like to see you.”
Reeve ignored the messages, all three of them. But for the next week, when he would come home for the day, there would be more of the same message. It was always exactly the same, as if Chris were reading off a script, except that the “ums” and “uhs” would be in different places. Reeve would listen to it all the way through and then delete it. There were no other messages. He didn’t call Suzanne back. She didn’t mention the phone call when they saw one another on the bus or on the street.
Then one day, about a week or so after the first messages from Chris, there was a different message.
“Kevin. It’s Chris. I know why you’re ignoring me and I don’t understand. I won’t be calling you anymore. I’m sure I annoyed you.”
There was a silence for a moment and Reeve reached for the button to erase the message where Chris continued to speak.
“I heard that you’ve been going to see Carrie. I never understood you two and I never will. I don’t understand any of it. I…”
Chris’s sigh in the recording was raspy over the phone line.
“Please, Kevin, I just want to understand. This is the last time I’ll ask, but if you could just meet me at the coffee house tomorrow at three, maybe I could understand some things. Please. It’s been three years.”
The message came to an end and Reeve deleted it.
The next day, at two fifty-two, he was seated at a corner table, nursing a hot cocoa and glaring at the scene-by-scene account of Red Power's latest wonderful act of heroism.
Three o’clock came and went and Reeve was about to leave when the little bell above the door rang and Chris walked in. He sighed and scanned the room wearily, as if he had done it many times before. Then he saw Reeve and his expression changed. It was like his face couldn’t decide between astonishment, happiness or anger. Reeve looked back at his newspaper.
It was a long moment before Chris sat down across from Reeve. Reeve looked up once, but Chris was still wearing his dumbfounded expression, so Reeve ignored him for a while longer. Finally Chris spoke.
“I’d finally given up on you.”
“I thought I told you never to give up.”
“I tried it. Didn’t work so well. Thought I’d take a cue from you this time.”
Reeve laid down the paper then.
“I haven’t given up on her,” he said firmly. Chris’s eyebrows met as he furrowed his brow.
“Her? You gave up on me!”
* * *
He didn’t come at all that day. I was sad and Carrie made fun of me for it.
“He’s gotten bored with you,” she said.
“That’s not fair,” I told her. “Maybe he’s busy.”
“Too busy for you. It’s not hard. He’s probably sick of talking to you through a window. It’s not like he can do anything for you.”
I didn’t talk to her for the rest of the day.
One of the men in ties came in to give me a shot later. I didn’t talk to him because I was still angry with Carrie. He gave me the shot, then looked at me with a worried face.
“You okay today, Jeanette?”
“I just miss Kevin.”
He sighed and rubbed the spot where he had given me the shot, helping the pain to go away.
“Is he coming back?” I asked. There had been people before who had come to see me but had stopped.
“I don’t know.”
“I hope so.”
He looked around. I looked around too, but there was no one around. He leaned closer and spoke quietly while he put a bandage on my arm.
“I heard he’s trying to get you out of here.”
He looked at me, maybe wanting to see what I’d do, but I just nodded.
“I wouldn’t be here anymore?” I asked. I had never thought about not being in that room anymore. It was all I knew. Carrie had told me about other things, things outside, but I had never thought about going there.
“Well, we don’t know for sure if it will happen, but yes. If he gets all the paperwork filled out and we do some work, you might be able to leave here.”
I didn’t say anymore, but shifted uncomfortably in my jacket. The man readjusted the straps to loosen my arms a little and I smiled at him, but I still didn’t say anything, even when he left. I wanted to think. I wanted to ask Carrie something, but she didn’t come to talk to me. So I sat and thought.
* * *
Reeve tried to pick up his paper again, but Chris suddenly slammed his fist down on top of it, tearing the top a little. A few patrons of the coffeehouse jumped and turned disapprovingly to Chris. He ignored them.
“I don’t understand why you… How can…”
He had half-risen from his seat. Reeve looked up at him, not moving. Chris glared down at him for a long moment, the tendons in his neck standing out. They stared at one another, both silent. Then Chris slowly sank back down into his chair and took a deep breath. It shuddered as it left his lungs. Reeve waited a moment before speaking.
“Yes, I gave up on you, Chris. I’m sorry. I didn’t know what else to do then.”
Chris just stared down into his lap.
“You could have stayed. Could have given up on her. Why did it have to be me?”
Reeve glared at him as he sank lower in his seat.
“You weren’t the one going through a mental breakdown.”
Chris looked up then. Reeve put his finger to his chin in mock thought.
“Oh, wait, you were the one who caused the mental breakdown!”
Some patrons looked over at them again in disapproval at their noise, but Chris didn’t notice as he stood up again.
“Well excuse me if I wasn’t going to stand by and let evil take over the city. I’m not the one who was willing to look the other way. I actually did my job. It’s not my fault that my job, the job you should have been doing, had unfortunate consequences. You could have been a man enough to do it yourself!”
Reeve hadn’t thought he would see her again. Actually, he was sincerely hoping that he wouldn’t. And yet, the day that he found he was sitting next to her at the bar, he somehow wasn’t surprised at all. She certainly wasn’t.
“You’re a hard man to find,” she said, crossing her fish-net clad legs. He turned back to his drink before answering.
“It’s part of my job.”
“Yeah…” She stared out into the distance above the bar, swirling her glass in her hand. Finally she turned to him. “About your job.”
Reeve looked around, but no one was paying them any mind.
“What about it?”
She leaned closer to him, her hand inching closer to his on the bar, and looked up at him curiously.
“No vigilante acts? No dragging me in for questioning?”
“No.” He put his glass down, then reached over and put his hand over hers. She looked at it in surprise, then made a small noise as he wrapped his fingers around her wrist and squeezed.
“I figure I’ll question you now.” He tightened his grip a bit more. She winced, then smiled at him coyly.
* * *
It was actually three more days before he came. Carrie kept telling me he wouldn’t come. I kept telling her that he would, but after day after day went by, I almost began to believe her. Then he finally came. He looked tired and his beard was starting to grow back, but I was happy to see him anyway. He stood at the door talking to the men in ties for a long time and I waited impatiently for him to come and talk to me. I sat up straighter and shifted my jacket a little so I was more comfortable. Even Carrie couldn’t make me unhappy now that I had seen him.
Finally he came to sit at the window and picked up the phone.
“Hello Jeanette,” he said. “Sorry it’s been so long.”
“It’s all right,” I told him. I couldn’t stop smiling.
“Is Carrie here today?”
“I haven’t been talking to her. She was mean to me.”
He looked concerned then. He had dark circles under his eyes and he looked kind of scary with his droopy eyes. But I was still happy to see him.
“How was she mean?”
I shifted uncomfortably. Sometimes my jacket really itched. It always seemed to itch when people asked me things like that.
“She said you weren’t coming back.”
He scratched at his head.
“Listen, Jeanette…” He hesitated. My stomach suddenly clenched and I didn’t know why. Maybe it was how he wasn’t looking at me.
“Is there any way you can… find Carrie?”
I wrinkled my nose, thinking about it.
“I don’t know. I think I tried it one time. I don’t remember how it turned out.”
“Can you try? I have to try and apologize to her.”
I looked at him, at his cheeks that hadn’t been shaved. I could see a little scar on his chin. Is that where his mole used to be?
“I can try.”
“Go away,” Carrie said grumpily. “I don’t want to talk to you.”
“But he came back. He wants to talk to you.”
“But I don’t want to talk to him.”
“Please? For me? He said he wants to apologize.”
She was silent for a moment, then finally sighed.
“One time. This is the only time.”
* * *
Ugh. I hate this man. Why am I even talking to him? It’s his fault that I’m here. His and hers.
“Carrie? Is that you?”
He looks different. Thinner. I miss his mole.
No… No I don’t. I don’t care.
“What do you want? Make it quick.”
“Carrie, I… I just want to say that I’m sorry.”
Mmm-hmm…
“I talked to Chris the other day.”
“Who?” The name sounds familiar. But I can’t…
He looks nervous now. He looks around, looks down at the ground, then leans close to the window and whispers into the phone.
“Red Power.”
That bastard! I remember now. He’s the one that did this to me. He’s the one that saddled me with her.
“And what did he have to say?” I’m calm. I’m calm. No sense getting upset. The straitjacket keeps me from moving anyway. Don’t want to hurt myself. Again.
"He told me what happened."
I'm not calm. I'm burning. She's trying to get in my head. Trying to calm me down. No! Damn it, I don't want to calm down.
But I'm burning! Someone help me!
~~~
A/N: Sorry for any formatting problems. There are supposed to be two separate sections to each character's POV, but they seem to be sort of getting lost with the way YWS is insisting on formatting this. Which is unfortunate, because I was really trying out some formatting effects for this story. *sigh*
