fandomhigh | Coping With Change | Tuesday, Period One

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coping with change

Coping With Change | Tuesday, Period One

"Hi, everybody!" Cecil said. "We've got all sorts of changes to talk about this week. Like, what happens if you lose all your memories? Or what happens when you get new ones? There's a whole thing about finding out you're not who you thought, and really, you don't have to get everything all dumped on you at once for that. Although I guess it helps, right?"

//That... really depends on the situation,// Jono replied, a bit more on the subdued side, today. //Dealing with memory loss can be stressful. Coming back from it isn't necessarily any easier. And the island will do more than simply take away your memories. We've had weekends where you'll have lived an entirely different life, and coming to grips with what you did as somebody else...//

He hiked his shoulders up a bit.

//Things that mess with memory and with identity can leave a person uncertain about the one person that they feel they should be able to trust more than anybody else. And if you can't trust who you are, what can you trust?//

"Well, really, who can you ever trust?" Cecil added breezily. "Apart from your scientist boyfriend."

//Mine's a psychiatrist. He lost his memory, too. Which isn't really the point,// Jono replied, his voice reflecting a sigh that he couldn't quite share, otherwise. //The fact remains, identity and things beyond our control that might cause us to question it are big, terrifying topics that we don't want to think about.//

"So we're going to talk about them instead!" Cecil said. "Talking's much better than thinking. Just ask...well, pretty much anyone!"

Jono despaired of you sometimes, Cecil. He really did.

//We're going to talk about it,// he agreed all the same, a little less exuberantly. //With a focus on your personal feelings about this weekend, and how you chose to cope both without your memories and once you got them back again. I... am not too proud to admit that I spent most of Monday in bed. And not entirely because of a second failed attempt at a wedding, either.//

"I drank," Cecil offered. "It's generally the best thing when you want to forget things you shouldn't know."

//... I don't think the school actually encourages us to say that to the students, Cecil.//

Cecil frowned. "Are you sure? Why?"

//Quite sure. Underage drinking and encouraging it as a coping mechanism and forming unhealthy habits...// He shrugged. //Not that I didn't do my fair share of drinking at around that age myself while I still could, but there are probably better ways of dealing with one's problems.//

Like staying in bed, Jonothon?

Cecil shook his head. "This place is weird."

Jono shook his head in turn.

//You won't get any argument from me there,// he agreed. //But that's what we're going to deal with today, because thinking about this isolated incident is easier than contemplating anything much more permanent or potentially disastrous. Talk about what worked. Talk about what didn't work. Don't talk at all. Don't listen at all. Hell, leave the room if you feel you have to. Do whatever you need to in order to deal with this one, and we'll get into less immediate traumas next week.//

Unless something happened this week too, but this soon after an amnesiac weekend? What were the chances?

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"Wasn't the first time," Ada said, echoing Dante, though where his voice had been dull, hers had an undercurrent of anger under it. "--an' it won't be the last."

Jono considered that answer carefully, considered that anger quietly, and then nodded, just once.

//Do you need to not be here for this talk, Ada?//

He didn't know particulars, but hell, even he didn't want to be here for this talk, and all of his most horrifying incidents of this sort of thing were behind him. Dragging something out of her that made her this angry wasn't his place, or his goal.

She wanted to say yes so badly. Just grab her bag and leave.

...and possibly hurt her friends in the class by leaving them behind while she got to run away. Not happening.

"Marti -- my momma -- got a version of early-onset Alzheimer's," she said flatly, opting for the half-truth over the more painful (private) honesty. "So do I. What I need is for th' island to stop acting like m' condition is somethin' fun t' play with."

Jono inclined his head a little, processing that. Trying not to look like it was rocking him as hard as hearing that news from the mouth of one of his students really was.

What he settled on, in a quiet, understanding tone, was, //It isn't bloody fair of it to throw that back in your face like it's some sort of game.//

Christ, was else was there to say? Prying into her feelings on that was even more insensitive, especially with an audience. And if she wanted to talk, she would.

//I'm sorry that its chosen form of amusement this weekend was something so personal, Ada. It can't be easy to deal with even when Fandom isn't rubbing it in.//

"Of course it's a game." It was slightly more tired than angry this time, though the anger was still there. "'S just the odds are rigged an' th' house always wins. You can't expect anything else."

Which was carnie-speak for 'life sucks, put on your big kid pants and cope.'

It was funny; carnie-speak in this case seemed fairly universal. Jono gave a slow nod of his head, not about to argue. Some things didn't have miracle cures. Some horrors didn't get happy endings. He understood that all too well.

//Expecting anything else just makes it that much more difficult to deal with the disappointment when it comes,// he allowed. //Sometimes, being realistic is all there is left.//

Why even try to preach hope for the hopeless?

Dante didn't say anything - didn't want to interrupt her and even if he had, he wouldn't have known what to say.

This shit sucked, and it was worse for her, and he just-- something. Wanted to help. So she would get a foot, giving the back of her chair a tiny nudge in support.

... Sometimes he really was remarkably like a cat.

Ada hid a little smile and dropped a hand back behind her chair to wriggle her fingers at him in a silent 'hello.'

Sometimes he really was remarkably like a cat. Lucky for him, she liked cats.

Dante smiled back, making big, expressive eyes at her in an attempt to be funny, or at least cheer her up.

She was...fine. Ish. Fine-ish. Angry at Fandom for hurting both of them, but angry was better than being heartbroken again.

But maintaining anger was exhausting, especially in the face of Big Kitten Eyes from Dante, and she scrawled a quick note before flicking it into his lap.

milkshakes after your work this week?

~~Because of COURSE nothing was going to happen between then and now, not when Fandom had just finished messing with them.~~

Dante folded open the note and tilted his head.

sure. can also do drinks, he wrote. maybe head out on the bike.

The note landed neatly in front of her on the desk; uncanny accuracy at work.

Cecil caught sight of the two of them. "You're passing notes in class?"

He peeked over at the note and gave them a disapproving look. "It's not even properly encrypted! Haven't you learned codes and things yet? What if someone intercepted it?"

Ada smiled brightly.

"Maybe I forgot how t' code."

Her voice was cotton-candy sweet, but her eyes were murderous.

Dante didn't bother with the sweet. He was glaring daggers right at Cecil.

"Someone intercept it? What, like you?"

He was just trying to make his friend feel better, damn it.

"I suppose," Cecil said. "Or maybe the squirrels. Or...well, anybody! Coding stuff is really much safer, if you have to write it down."

He...was pretty much oblivious to the glare. Sorry, Dante.

"Thanks for the tip," Dante said sarcastically. "Talk by computer stuff next time. Got it."

"Oh, it doesn't have to be computer stuff," Cecil said. "Just, like, a basic substitution code, or a made-up language, or something like that. You could even write down morse code in Modified Sumerian if you wanted. Nothing too hard, just be sure to change it up so no-one catches on too fast."

"So what's morse code for 'get lost'?" Dante asked.

Nope, still couldn't nail 'sweet'.

"Oh, gosh, my morse is so rusty!" Cecil said. "Which probably makes it a better choice for you, really."

About then, Cecil got hauled off by Jono, which was probably just as well.

"Oh. Did you?" Cecil asked. "Or is this a hypothetical?"

Ada just stared at him.

"What part of 'I got permanent memory loss' did you not get?" she asked, incredulous. "I got no way of knowing what I've forgotten."

As far as she was aware, she'd never learned any codes besides the ones her family used around Townies or Social Services, but... there was always the possibility that she had, and that the little swim in Alabama had taken them from her.

Hooboy. Sorry, Ada. Jono was going to kind of grimace - no mean feat for a man with no mouth - and then wave a hand at Cecil, in what he hoped was maybe a universal gesture for 'leave off.'

And then, just to be absolutely clear that it was meant to be just that, he was going to make his way over and, while resisting the urge to haul Cecil bodily out of the room, kind of put a hand on his shoulder and give his head a shake.

//Bad timing, mate. Leave them to whatever method of note passing they like on this one, alright?//

He understood that Cecil meant only the best, here, but... Christ.

"Um...Okay." Cecil didn't quite see what the problem was, but he could sort of sense there was one.

"I'm sorry?" he told Ada. If it sounded a bit quizzical, it was because he still wasn't sure what he'd done, but he'd apparently stepped on someone's etiquette somewhere?

"Ain't gonna be no more notes t'day." Ada was reaching for her bag by her feet. "'M done."

You'd said they could leave if they needed, Jono, and Ada was calling your bluff. She didn't particularly want to be in her room, alone, but it was better than being here.

Christ.

It hadn't been a bluff, and Jono was holding back, not moving to so much as suggest that she ought to stay. He gave her a little nod, a sort of quiet acknowledgment that she needed out. And then he just kind of shook his head and went to stand by his desk.

Well. That had happened.

Coping With Change | Tuesday, Period One

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