ArchivedLogs:Good Enough Place to Start

Good Enough Place to Start
Life Preservers
Dramatis Personae Melinda, Micah
In Absentia	19 January 2015 '
Location <NYC> Harbor Commons - Kitchens - Lower East Side
Gleaming and polished and new, the common house here boasts an enormous industrial-sized kitchen for preparing communal meals. Set up as two mirror-image fully equipped kitchens, both left and right halves of the room contain a trio of enormous ovens, each topped with twelve gas-powered stove burners. There is a wealth of cabinet and drawer space ringing the walls, and separate side-by-side fridge and freezer to each side of the space as well. Both halves of the room contain their own large central islands, black granite countertops providing a large expanse of space for food prep; beneath the center islands are stored a well-stocked supply of pans and pots and cutting boards and kitchen gear. The pantry is shared, a large walk-in room along the back wall, its shelves all carefully labelled and organized. The opposite wall has sinks, deep three-compartment ones for each side of the room. There are very clearly labeled signs in the kitchen, denoting the left half of the room strictly for preparation only of foods both vegan and Kosher; there are no restrictions on the foods prepared in the right half. Equipment from each side is color-coded and should be kept separate. Instructions request that any prepared foods served or stored in communal space keep /strict/ lists of the ingredients used for those with dietary concerns and that leftovers are marked clearly with dates before being stored. Just a little after the standard lunch hour, Melinda shows up to start cooking. There is a party to plan for, one that has come in to being in reaction to many of the events that have been threatening to break through the trend of bad circumstances that have plagued the Commons. The fare is as varied as the people who have reason to celebrate. Mel is making use of every section of the kitchen, making up two different nacho cheese dips, one vegan and the other not, with the additions of soy-rizo and chorizo, peppers and onions and garlic still browning in the skillet. Additionally, there are pizzas coming out of the oven to cool while others are being prepped to go in. She is alone for now, dressed in purple and blue striped sweat pants with a large sweat shirt over the top in a dark denim color. Her hair is braided behind her ears into twin tails, the lengths tied up against her head to keep them in check. She is humming quietly to herself as she peeks in the fridge for jalapeno jelly. Micah barges into the kitchen with not a lot of greeting, owing to the fact that his arms are loaded down with canvas shopping bags. His first load finds its way to the vegan side of the kitchen, his second to the not-vegan side, before he finally stops for a breath. Which is then used to give a little, “Hi, Mel.” After a brief lean on a table, he manages to speak a little better. “Smells good in here. I got the rest of what ev'rybody asked for from the store.” The redhead is dressed very much like he had the day off: Firefly hoodie, thematically paired with a chocolate brown 'Curse your sudden but inevitable betrayal!' dinosaur shirt over cream henley and faded jeans. "Oh, good. Good." Melinda is distracted as she finishes sliding a pizza onto the baking stone in the oven, pulling back carefully so that the dough does not come back out with her. She wets her lips as she gives a quick salute with the paddle before turning to survey the rest of the kitchen. "Okay, what do we have left to make? I'm just about to move the cheese sauces to crock pots. The stove tops should be clear. I'm cooking a couple pizzas early, but I'm mostly going save them for more immediate toasting upon request." She dusts her hands off after putting down the paddle. "We're not really cooking for the twins, are we? I mean, they're usually raw stuff, yes?" "Got a lotta veggies for platters an' I'm gonna throw in a couple of casseroles," Micah replies as he unpacks the bags onto tables for sorting into cabinets, refrigerators, or staying out for immediate use. "Some other finger foods. Gonna do some devilled eggs, make a ginger-carrot hummus dip for the veggies an' breads an' crackers or whatever." A laugh answers the question of the twins. "The twins /do/ eat raw stuff, but they love cookin', too. S'long as it's mostly protein an' delicious. I'm gonna do some spicy marinara meatballs as the specifically-meat thing I'm plannin'. I got artichokes an' mushrooms, also. S'Dusk's favourite pizza." Micah's hand moves to stroke at his opposite arm once Mel is at a less-fully-engaged stage of her cooking. "Hon? I been...once I could get people alone. Needin' t'apologise a lot. For the past couple of weeks. I don't even remember too clear, some of it. But I know I did an' said a lotta things need apologisin' for. Pretty sure y'was just tryin' t'help." He pulls the hand away to fist it, circling it over his heart. "I love you, hon. Think...we was just beyond it right then." "Only trying to help..." Melinda leans back against the countertop, arms crossing over her torso, her attention downward. She inhales deeply and purses her lips. "Pretty sure. Okay. You were hopped up on toxins and not thinking straight. I understand." She gives a little smile and turns away, heading back into the fridge. "You want something to drink?" "Other'n pain meds. an' anaesthesia, I ain't never really... It was a new experience," Micah's dry tone and cringing expression imply precisely how pleasant of one it was. "Pretty much lost two days entire comin' out of it." He chews at his lower lip, hands still working on unloading groceries, but eyes following Melinda. "Mel? Hon...I'm kinda gettin' there was more t'that y'wanted t'say but didn't. You don't have to. But. I just want you t'know y'can. Say things." He nods once at the drink question. "Any of those bottled ginger ales in there still? I bought more, but they're warm." Melinda keeps her head in the fridge for a few minutes, seeking out two bottles of the ginger ales. She turns and hands one to Micah, her jaw still set and her expression full of words as yet unspoken. She opens her bottle and takes a sip. "There's a lot I could say, but I don't know if I see the point of it. Yes, you said things that hurt me, but without knowing what they were - and I'm not really suggesting we rehash them - they cannot be stopped from occurring in the future again. If it's true that it was one hundred percent just the toxin, and you're clean now, you should hear this. I was going to talk to you again, try to stage an intervention. Try to get Jax help. Try to talk you two into making a decision without the drugs. Then I was going to be done with you." Micah listens to this quietly, no longer working with the groceries. "I remember some of it. Just nothin's real clear? I can't...I mean, it ain't fair of me to blame things one hundred percent on anythin'. But I weren't...in a good place at all mentally or physically. From the drug an' the blood loss an' watchin' what was happenin' t'Jax an' Spence an' the twins an' feelin' more helpless than I've ever felt in my life. An' I've had a lotta feelin' helpless t'compete with. So that's...just...where I was." He pulls out one of the chairs at the table, settling into it. "I'd been tryin' the same thing. For Jax at least. Tryin' t'get 'im away from Eri 'cause I was terrified he was bein' poisoned. But the more I tried t'take anythin' he was doin' from 'im. The more I tried t'take care of 'im or insist he...anythin' but keep feedin' Eri. The worse it made things. I was afraid. I was so afraid when y'was talkin'...anythin' 'bout doctors or 'im not doin' as much that it would do the same thing. An' there wasn't much worse t'/get/. I didn't know what else t'do. An' I couldn't...I wanted t'keep you safe from it, too. An' Tola. I just...didn't have anythin' left in me t'go about anythin' the right way." He just nods at this last, tone flat in all likelihood to keep the words from falling apart completely. "I think a lotta people're done with me." "Yes. I remember it all very clearly." Melinda looks less than pleased to hear the recounting. She settles heavily into a seat, glancing at the timer on the oven to keep track of the time. Her lips purse until she decides to take a drink, licking the ginger syrup off her lips afterward. "Do you understand why any of that was hard for me to take?" As if just now realising it is there, Micah slides the bottle toward himself with a barely-vocalised thanks. “I don't...remember exactly what was said. But I'm sure I didn't say nothin' /right/. It's hard enough discussin' delicate topics when y'got two brain cells left t'rub t'gether. I wasn't meanin' t'push you away or say I didn't want your help or that you weren't /able/ t'help...other'n feedin' Eri. That's a dif'rent kettle of fish. I just. Had already ruined things for ev'rybody an' couldn't take pullin' you into that, too. For your own sake, but also Tola...” His hands just toy with the bottle rather than drinking from it. “I was just tryin' not t'hurt /ev'ryone/ an' it kept makin' things worse 'cause I couldn't even /think/ anymore.” "No, you still don't understand. Micah." Melinda gets to her feet and leans over the table. "You just told me twice more that I can't protect my own child. And that it's /your/ decision to make." She shakes her head and steps away, taking a long drink from her bottle and setting it down on the counter, only to pick up the paddle, getting ready to retrieve the pizza early. She fidgets by the oven and shakes her head. "And what bothers me the most is that you still feel that way." "Honey, no. I don't think that you can't protect your own child. I never thought that. I just didn't want /me/ to be in a position t'hurt her, regardless of the outcome. Because of /my/ decisions, which I knew were impaired. It weren't like that at all." Leaving off the bottle entirely, Micah's hands scruff through his hair instead. The transfer of moisture leaves it a spikier mess. "It wasn't you. I was tryin' t'keep you /both/ away from my mess 'cause clearly...I'm still. A mess. An' still hurtin' people. An' I didn't know how else t'do that than actually keepin' people /away/. It weren't that I didn't think you /could/ protect her. It was that I knew I couldn't...protect nothin'. Control nothin'. So I didn't want y'all t'be put in that place an' have it be my fault. Where y'would /need/ t'protect her. Does that make any sense? It weren't any judgement on you or makin' decisions for you. It was judgement on me. An' makin' the only decision that I could trust at all, where I was. 'Cause I couldn't live with m'self, the way things was goin'." Melinda remains quiet, pressed against the counter for support. Her hand tightens on the handle of the paddle as she mulls it over, shaking her head at length. "Are you defending your mindset from that time period or are you admitting it was wrong?" "I'm not defendin' it. I'm just tryin' to let you know that I don't doubt your abilities as a mother, at all. An' explain how fucked up it was. I was...am." Micah's eyes squeeze closed slowly. "I just. Been spendin' half m'time in with a shrink lately. So I been doin' so much explanin' I don't know how t'do anythin' else anymore. I'm sorry. I can...I understand if y'want me t'go." "Explaining how messed up your head is doesn't necessarily help matters. I already got that. I witnessed it." Melinda inhales deeply then sips from her ginger ale. "I don't want you to ... I do want you to stop saying one of the plague words just because you're upset." She inhales deeply again, shaking her head, eyes closed. "It would help if you acknowledge that I could have handled babysitting for you, now that you're clear headed." "I'm s--" Micah clenches down hard on his jaw to stop the word. "I hate that it took that word away. I /need/ that word. So often." His head shakes slowly. "I would've let you take care of Eri for a couple hours, in our house...once they'd fed. I think...I might've tried t'say that but I prob'ly screwed it up. I just didn't want...an' Jax was...an' he'd already said no. I didn't know how t'make any of it stop." His head thunks forward onto the table a little too hard. "I'm tryin' not t'start cryin' again. I'm tryin' not t'make people deal with me anymore. I just don't know how t'make /this/ stop, neither." "A few hours, after the kid fed." Melinda rolls her eyes. "Would have." She grumbles and shakes her head again. "How about we just stop talking bout this?" She moves toward the oven and opens the door, working carefully to get the paddle under the pizza. "You're very stuck on that night, stuck in the bad. Maybe you need more distance from it." "I don't understand. Y'want me t'say it would've been a good idea t'let Eri feed from you? Or t'leave 'em with you longer with what they were like hungry, with no food? After I saw what that poison was doin' t'my husband, after how crazy it was makin' me? Sugar, I can't say that. Why would I want that for my friend?" Micah's head shakes slowly. "We didn't want Eri t'learn t'just keep bitin' /ev'ryone/, neither. It's why I was workin' so hard on that feedin' method. Which I did finish. It just needed a few days. An' Isra took Eri so we could do that, once she came 'round again... So that other people could take care of Eri. So that we could without the poison." His head shakes again. "I love you, honey. But I'm not gonna say that I would've done that. Or should've done that. 'Cause I wouldn't. I should...prob'ly leave you alone now if that means you're done with me. I get it. I'd be done with me if I could be by this point." "Oh good. You really didn't need me. Everything was fine without me. Wonderful. Fine. I have no idea what you're apologizing for then. That you raised your voice? Done. Apology accepted. Please, continue being the same way you've always been with no change. Well, perhaps quieter." Mel shakes her head and puts the paddle on the counter top. "Try to make sure that the nacho sauce doesn't burn." She turns to head out. "I never said none of that. Y'keep...readin' things I'm not sayin. I'm... I'll stop. Talkin' t'you 'less y'tell me y'want to. Think I maybe need t'institute that policy with ev'ryone. I apologise for bein' upsettin'. I should've just left it alone." Micah's head doesn't come up off of the table. "You have no idea what I've...I don't know how much more I can change without bein' dead." "Go fuck yourself, Micah." Melinda marches back over to the stove top and starts turning off burners. "Fuck you and your extremely high yet low opinion of yourself. Seriously, Micah. What the fuck. You think you're the worst person in the world, yet your opinion is the only one that matters. Obviously, that's a terrible strain upon your psyche, but maybe you should let one go. Either your opinions are the best, or you're the worse person in the world. And quite seriously? If you possibly changed that much, I wouldn't recognize you." “Please. Y'can have the kitchen. I came in while y'were workin'. I'll go.” Micah finally moves away from the table to back out of the room. "Sure, Micah, run away. Get out before you can even try to repair something with your friend. Seems like a great idea. Now I know you don't give a shit about me, just your opinion of yourself." Melinda shakes her head and moves to get out the crock pots. "How about next time you apologize, you actually try to mean it. Now all I think is that you were trying to make yourself feel better." "Do you /want/ me t'stay? Y'told me t'stop talkin' 'bout it. Then /you/ were gonna leave. I didn't wanna drive you off when this was your..." Micah just leans against the door. "I thought you /wanted/ me to go. An' I did mean it when I was apologisin'. D'you think this is fun for me? It doesn't make me feel better. If I just wanted t'feel better I'd just tell y'what y'wanna hear without tryin' t'understand. Or tryin' t'get you to understand. But I don't /do/ that. I don't /wanna/ do that. The apologisin' is just...what I need t'do. I was apologisin' for sayin' things without thinkin'. I was apologisin' for hurtin' you 'cause /my/ head's been in a bad place. I was apologisin' for makin' y'think I didn't want your help or think y'were a good mother when I never once meant t'say nothin' that could even come across that way. 'Cause it's /not/ true. Y'know ev'ry time I've done this it's just reinforced t'me what a horrible person I am, so I apologise for comin' across that way 'cause it's not just what I'm feelin', it's what people're tellin' me. Ev'ry person I'm near anymore is just...upset. At me. For things more'n what's goin' on lately. An' I had no idea...I had no idea. So what'm I s'posed t'think? What'm I s'posed t'think but I'm completely intolerable? So I was leavin' so y'didn't hafta tolerate me anymore. But if y'want me t'stay. I'll stay. Just. Tell me. What t'do. 'Cause I don't know." "It was a suggestion, Micah, not the end all be all word on the subject." Mel grabs a spatula and starts moving the vegan cheese dip into a crock pot on the vegan side of the kitchen, the yellowish goop still steaming as she works. She quiets as she listens to Micah's outburst, moving from one pot of sauce to the next. She is softer when she speaks again, thoughtful and distant. "I never thought you believed I was a horrible mother. I'm more concerned that people feel I am weak and fragile. You were sick and out of your mind. Jax was dying. You both seem so concerned with maybe making it to some finish line that may or may not be on the horizon, you couldn't possibly let someone else help shoulder the burden... even for a little while. Because I'm fragile. Because I couldn't possibly walk into my own home with that child at that age without the child getting free and killing my child while Tove and I watched." She sighs and shakes her head, "Never mind the notion that I would be unintelligent enough to not seek help on my own." "I'm not trying to tell you that you're a horrible person. I actually think you're utterly clueless how much you mean to most of the people you interact with, but in this past situation, you were willing to risk yourself and Jackson under the impression that you were replaceable and meaningless yourself, despite protestations of others. You still seem to not understand how upsetting that is." Melinda takes her pots to the sink for cleaning once the crock pots are on. "Sugar, it wasn't...about you. We weren't lettin' /no one/ take Eri. Isra is Eri's /mother/. Jax an' I were their /parents/. Is the only reason we was on that short list. An' it's Isra's family...a whole group of family with no babies at risk...takin' 'em now. Which Isra an' Dusk agreed to 'fore we even did. Weren't no commentary on you or your constitution or your parentin'." Micah wobbles a little, leaning back against the doorframe. "If anythin' happened to /our child/ or because of /our child/ based on decisions we was makin' while completely drugged up from feedin' said child, that would've been our fault. I'm not sayin' whether I'd think y'could handle Eri or not. I'm just sayin' I couldn't live with anythin' happenin' t'you or Tola. Whether the thing that happened was just...you gettin' that venom in you. Or Tola gettin' a little scratch. Anythin'. /Anythin'/. That would've been on me an' there was just...enough on me already that I couldn't handle that happenin' to /anyone/. Much less people I love so much." Micah's head shakes slowly again. "If I'd known that group of people existed from the start, I never would've entered into any of this. Or if I'd known what it'd do t'Jax. Or if I'd known what it was gonna do t'anyone. But I didn't. I blindly kept forgin' ahead, picturin' that baby as infant Shane or infant B. An' just. I had to. Make it better than it really was for them. An' when Jax was...when it was that bad. I would do anythin' /personally/ t'make it stop. I couldn't ask nobody else t'take on my mess, not the way it was. The only thing I could think at the time was t'take Eri away for awhile on my own. Let Jax recover. Maybe let the twins talk to /him/. Get some /time/ t'work things out. I know it was stupid. I've told ev'ryone it was stupid since I could think again. But it was the only thing I could come up with then. Not that I was replaceable, but that...I had t'do /somethin'/ an' there was no other somethin'. Until Ion came. An' then there was somethin'. An' I agreed t'give up /my child/ in less than five minutes of conversation. Is how desperate I was." Micah's hands lift to grind their heels into his scrunched-closed eyes. "An' it's hard. It's hard when I'm already torn up by what I did t'me family. But what an enormous failure I am. It's hard not t'feel like I'm a horrible person. When people are tellin' me that I'm selfish an' don't care about m'friends an' apologise just t'feel better an' make 'em think that I think horrible things 'bout /them/ an' that I don't care 'bout m'husband or my kids an' that I only help people out of guilt or for some kinda accolades an' that I somehow abandon people but also stay where I'm not wanted all the time an' that I'm some kinda creepy mutant fetishist who don't see the only people who'd have me anymore as people." The hands continue their rubbing, not really able to move away. "An' that ain't interpreting. At most it's /paraphrasin'/. An' that sounds like one heck of a horrible person t'me." "Wait... you gave Eri up within five minutes of conversation with Ion, but wouldn't let me babysit." Melinda just peers at him incredulously. "You do realize that you do not have to make everything match up, correlate, and make sense, because... well, some of that is nonsense." “Honey, I told you. Isra an' Dusk had already agreed to it. An' they said they had this massive group of people who had experience with kids, even ones with needs like Eri's, that was already family t'Isra an' Dusk. An' no little kids 'round t'get hurt. Isolated an' safe somewhere. An' Isra was helpin' 'em an' feedin' Eri already. Is helpin' 'em, still. Prob'ly Dusk now, too. /And/ they've got the feedin' devices I made.” Micah's head shakes again. “It just sounded /perfect/. I only wish I'd known 'bout it b'fore I started this whole mess. But sendin' Eri with 'em...it's the exact /opposite/ of handin' 'em t'one person who /did/ have a little kid at home an' who /wasn't/ already feedin' Eri. Am I makin' any sense at all?” He scrunches his shoulders, letting his head fall back against the doorframe. “I'm not sayin' everythin' they said makes sense? 'Cause a lot of it's contradictory, so it couldn't. But it's been comin' from people who were friends. So learnin' that's what your friends think of you? Even if it's not true. An' I'm so...I'm such a mess now I don't even know what's true anymore? But just havin' friends think that of you can't be...a good. An' the fact that people been thinkin' these things an' I haven't known? That they were just friendly with me an' I thought everythin' was fine? That...don't help. It don't help me know what's true an' it don't help me know if maybe ev'rybody thinks of me that way. Or if /some/ do. Who they are. Since I obviously couldn't tell b'fore.” Melinda shakes her head and scowls at the floor. "Whatever they said wasn't constructive. If wasn't delivered in a constructive manner, in a way to encourage you, then the person who said it wasn't a friend. You should ignore them. Take some time, get stable with your family and a small group of friends, then work your way back out to the people who said things that don't make sense and just hurt you when you've got a solid support system again." "Yeah. I guess. I'm just. Shaky now." Micah wriggles a little against the wall where he leans as if uncomfortable in his own skin. "This's def'nitely been a low. The low. Of things I've done in my entire life. An'...I done enough things I'm not proud of that it should've been a competition t'get there. An' I'm just. Tryin' t'dig back out. But it's hard when it feels like folks is linin' up t'take shots when I got no defenses left. Makes it near impossible t'maintain no kinda perspective. Just wanna hole up in m'bedroom an' not come out most of the time anymore." He shifts toward the table, groceries still needing to be put away, and starts with the refrigerated items that have been sitting too long. "So I do...get that I'm hard t'be around right now. S'part of why I keep apologisin' an' offerin' t'leave." "You're not hard to be around, Micah." Melinda wets her lips and shakes her head once more. "You're kind of intense right now, that's a given, but I'm sure that'll calm down after a while. Everything's been in flux." She turns back to the stove top when Micah starts working, moving the food from skillets into separate bowls. She sets them in the correct part of the kitchen before moving the skillets to the sink. "I'm ... I apologize for losing my temper earlier." “I hope so. I don't know how much more intensity I can take. Ain't no off switch for it, though.” Micah sucks the air in through his nose a little too-quickly, trying to avoid sniffling or tearing up /again/. “It's...okay, honey. If anybody gets...sayin' things 'cause of bein' in a bad emotional place...” Both hands flutter toward his chest indicatively. “I just love you, sugar. An' it's upsettin' t'be upsettin' someone that much. But I still love you.” This last comes with a sad attempt at a smile, just a little upward tug of one corner of his mouth, but a smile nonetheless. "The problem with what happened is that it tapped into some stuff that I've been dealing with lately. It still does, so explaining again just makes it worse." Melinda turns and walks over to Micah and pulls him into a hug. She sighs and rubs his back, providing he even allows the hug. "You're going to be okay, okay?" “It sounds like that might be...a little raw right now? But if y'/do/ wanna talk about it, an' with me, I'm here, okay?” Micah is entirely too easy to pull, perhaps a little more /lean/ going into his hug than usual. His shoulders shudder some but he manages to hold it together. “Thanks, hon. It's...helpful that at least one of us is sure.” "Eh. I don't know what the point in talking about it. I've got people pulling away, dying, and if I'm lucky I get to watch. When we spoke that night, I wasn't ... included in a lot and it seemed like the exclusion was growing. So, it was hard to watch people choose that again and again and not be able to do anything about it. I'd rather share some of the burden and the pain than be on the outside." Melinda takes a deep breath and hugs Micah a little tighter, not letting him go while he's leaning so much. "Maybe it's going away now. People are healthy again, but I still feel excluded. I'll get better, too, I guess. I'm... just tired." "No...honey. I mean, not with us. I can't speak for the rest of things goin' on. But we was just...collapsin' in on ourselves. An' I was just tryin' t'do damage control. It weren't that I didn't want you. I just didn't wanna hurt you. That's all. I loved havin' you there. An' that y'brought things for Eri. An' that y'wanted t'help. I just...couldn't let y'help that one way." Micah's arms squeeze a little tighter when Melinda's do. "I can't imagine how much harder it's been for you with Hive. He didn't let none of us that don't live there in, not that I heard of no how. I'm not sure what it was that he needed, exactly, in doin' that. But he came out again. So...maybe you're right. Maybe it's gettin' better, too." Melinda stiffens once more when Micah reiterates his judgment call. "Please don't explain or justify again," she pleads quietly. "I don't agree with you. We're just going to have to agree to disagree." She closes her eyes and tries to relax when he moves on to the second topic, but it's not easy. "Is it harder for me? I don't know anymore. I'm actually trying not to be special. I just... you know, wanted to survive all of this, emotions in tact." "Okay. Okay, apologies, sugar. I won't...talk 'bout that no more." Micah's hand rubs in small circles on Melinda's back. "I don't know. I shouldn't assume. Just...with Tola an' the unique relationship y'all have. I...should stop. 'fore I get m'foot lodged in m'mouth again. An' that's a stickier proposition than most feet." Attempting jokes now, look out! "What d'you need now, Mel? If y'know. An' want me t'help. I'll try." "I feel like I said my goodbyes when I thought he was dying. What do you say to someone after that?" Mel frowns as she rests a cheek on Micah's shoulder, her gaze distant. "Tola's handling it better than me. Maybe I'm just supposed to coast back into it, happy that he's just around, no other discussion necessary. I don't know if I need anything. Just going to take a cue from my daughter and throw this party and hopefully get things back to normal again." Micah just nods along, listening quietly. “I got less'n no right t'be givin' nobody advice? But after what I been goin' through lately? Maybe y'should talk to 'im. I mean, maybe now as he's ready t'talk t'anyone at all. Assumin' or not talkin's gotten me into more'n a heap of trouble s'all.” He gives Mel one last squeeze before releasing her to return to preparations. “Though. Yeah. Party t'do. S'a good enough place t'start.” "Yeah, let's get this party going and maybe conversation will be an option soon." Mel releases Micah with a sigh and turns away, staring at the refrigerator for a moment before glancing back at Micah. "Um, What was I making again? Maybe I should just help you cook." As Mel pulls away, Micah pecks a light kiss to her cheek. "You're strong, sugar. Whatever happens. You're one of the strongest people I know. An' y'got all kindsa folks here gonna back you through anythin'." He nods once, glancing at the items scattered around the kitchen. "Pizzas an' nachos, I think. But y'wanted t'wait on actually toastin' more pizzas. Just get the toppin's all ready might be what y'wanna do next? An' I...will once again try t'bring some order t'my chaos an' make somethin' good out of it." "Yeah, I can do toppings. I'm glad, you know, that we spoke. I don't like being at odds with my friends." Melinda heads back to her sink to wash up first, then heads toward the counter to prepare toppings. “Me, too, honey. I mean, I wouldn't mind a little less shoutin' at me 'til I'm gonna cry. Don't get me wrong.” Micah's attempt at a playful smile is slightly more successful in its formation. “But I'm glad we talked. Don't forget the artichoke an' mushroom for Dusk.” Might could be he's still excited about seeing the other man again, not having had the chance just yet. “We got this, sugar. We're gonna come outta this all right.” "But of course. Mushrooms and artichoke hearts for Dusk. It'll be good to see him." Melinda fishes out a jar of artichoke hearts from Micah's groceries and drains some of them for chopping. "There, now you're starting to sound more like yourself. Have to cling to some sort of optimism, or getting through anything is kind of rough." “So good. Though I'm not sure whether t'hug 'im or grovel for the extent of m'failure with his kid first. Prob'ly go with the hug. Get into the rest of it after he's had a chance t'/be/ again.” Micah tries another little smile here. “Gotta. Hey, how 'bout we make a deal. Either one of us feels like we're goin' under again? We can be our first-line life preservers. Or at least another person with a bucket t'bail with.” "I'd go with the hug first. Besides, you didn't actually hurt Eridani. There are just new caretakers that are a better match. If anything, the pair of you are going to be apologizing over and over to each other over the same issue." She nods along with his suggestion but raises her chopping blade. "And what about times when one party is going under and doesn't want to admit it? Seems an appropriate thing to discuss." "Wouldn't be the first apology match throw-down I've gotten into. Prob'ly I can take 'im." Micah's lips actually find an /honest/ smile this time. "S'about the /only/ thing I'd be able t'take 'im in, but get your points where y'can, right?" He nods to Mel's suggestion. "Y'can be meddlesome. I'll be if y'really want it. I been...careful t'get people t'ask for m'meddlin' lately. In case folks /do/ hate that I meddle an' just ain't never said. But, yeah. Feel free to throw things at m'head when I need it." "I don't know how much meddling I'm talking about, but maybe just an agreement, when one of us approaches the other about nearly being under it all, we stop and really evaluate and listen." Melinda turns her knife back to the artichokes, sliding the cut pieces into a bowl, then rinsing her cutting board before moving on to the mushrooms. “Deal. I'm gonna shift over an' get some of this not-vegan stuff goin' 'fore it spoils sittin' out. I'll bop back t'the other side for the bigger things in a bit.” Micah nods one more time, collection a couple cartons of eggs. “We've got this.”