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Part Two

She didn’t know when or how it happened, but Lucy must’ve somehow managed to get herself into her pyjamas and into bed, after the previous night’s ordeal.  The hot sun came in through her window, onto her forehead, heating it uncomfortably.  She opened her eyes and glanced at the clock.  11:30, it said.

What had happened, last night?  She remembered going to the bar, talking to Alex – to Alex.  What else had they – Oh, no.  Oh, God.  Lucy pushed the warm covers off of her body and slid out of bed.

In her tiny room was her bed, her dresser, her easel and, hanging by the door, a full-length mirror.  She went to the mirror.  Her makeup was still on, only slightly smudged, and her hair extremely dirty.  She saw no signs of further activity with Alexander, but was still rather uneasy, wondering if she had done something she would regret.

What a fool, she was!  She had meant just to help the guy out in a tough time, and she just made things worse!  He had enough problems on his hands, and didn’t need a romantic downfall to make him feel worse!  And what if he felt something for her?  What if he thought that the kiss actually meant something?  She’d hurt him even more, and maybe even have an unwanted suitor on her hands.

“Stupid, stupid, stupid!”

Lucy looked back into the mirror.  She needed a shower.  What if she bumped into him on the way to the bathroom?  Why doesn’t she just take her clothes off now, to make the meeting even more awkward?  Maybe do a little dance into the showers?  Well, she has to go out some time.  She probably won’t even see him.  No, he’s probably at class.

Taking a deep breath, Lucy calmed herself down and took the doorknob.  Exhaling, she turned it.  Directly across from her room was the common room’s television, and sitting on the sofa was Alexander Goth.

“Shit.”

“Oh, hello,” Alexander said.  The T.V. wasn’t even on.

“Hi, Alex.”

Alexander rose, and made his way to Lucy.

“Lucy,” he said, looking at his feet, “about last night.”

“Yeah.  Alex, I think that maybe we were both a little drunk, and we-”

“Went too far, yeah.”

“Yeah,” Lucy said.  “Uhh…  Alex, exactly how far did we go?”

“We kissed!”  Alexander said, slightly indignant.

“Right, just making sure,” Lucy said, and, her embarrassment powering her mouth like electricity, she continued at high speed, “I’d like to clarify that I’m not the sort of girl to throw herself at guys, like that.  I don’t kiss people the first time I meet them, normally.  I had actually never kissed anyone before, you know.  I just said too much.  Pretend I didn’t say that.  Oh, God.  I mean – Alex, I didn’t want that to happen, and it’s not why I talked to you.  I just wanted to say hi when you were feeling down, and I made things worse.  I’m sorry.”

“No, I understand,” Alexander replied.  “I agree.  We went too far, and it was silly of us.  After we kissed, you backed away, and not long after retired.  I know how you felt.  I didn’t read into it.  I think that what occurred last night was just two lonely, vulnerable people coming together.”

Lucy sighed, deeply relieved.

“Yes!” She said.  “Exactly!”  She gesticulated randomly in Alexander’s general direction.

They stood there, at her door, for a few moments, unsure of how to disengage.  Finally, Lucy dismissed herself to the showers.  In her absence, Alexander decided to retire to his room, in order to ensure that he not bump into Lucy again.  After locking the door behind him, turned to see his desk, the computer on top of it, still on.  He sent an E-mail to the registrar, declaring his major.  Something made him decide on Psychology.

Refreshed by the steam, Lucy towelled herself dry, and wiped the condensation from the mirror above the sink, in order to apply her makeup.  Lucy always felt better after a hot shower, and even that morning’s socially alienating and uncomfortable events were no match for the combined powers of hot water clean skin.  This morning ritual had such a congenial effect that when Lucy left the dorm, fully dressed and smelling of flowers, she greeted the hot rays of sunshine with a smile and walked with a spring in her step around campus.  This was most characteristic of Lucy Burb, and she had always been called a bouncing ray of sunshine, no matter where she went.  In high school, she went to many parties, and was always the center of attention, making everyone laugh with her inexhaustible sense of humour, and would always find a way to cheer her friends up, when they were sad.  Still, that morning had left a bad taste in her mouth, and so she decided to wash it away with something sweet – so she went to the campus coffee shop.

Lucy entered the shop to find three women standing in a group in front of the counter.  One of them, a tall blonde, sighed loudly.

“Hey, Castor!  Hurry up or I’ll Castor-ate you!”
            A voice came from the back room: “Yeah, I’ve never heard that one, before.”

The blonde woman smirked.

“Oh, grow up,” said another girl, a brunette in a read sweater.

“Because you’re so grown up?” The blonde said, sardonically.

“Actually,” said a rather fat man with blonde hair, who then rose from a nearby sofa, “I think castration may be a fitting punishment: make the Greek House slave a eunuch.”

The brunette laughed quite hard, and the blonde stepped towards the man and caressed his unshaven fat face with her knuckles.

“Oh, Kev, you’re adorable, you know that?”

The man, Kevin, turned pink and mumbled incoherently.

Castor emerged from the back room, wearing glasses with green lenses, which matched the store apron he wore over his every-day clothes.  He was carrying two enormous cans of coffee beans, which he emptied into a large grinder.

“I’m back!” he cried over the clamorous motor and crunching beans.  “What’ll it be?”

“Yeah,” said the blonde, “I’ll have a double espress-”

“Yes, Tiffany?” Castor addressed the brunette.

“Oh, shut up,” the blonde said, as Tiffany laughed.

“No, you shut up.”

The brunette was not the one who spoke – it was the third woman, a very tan girl with black hair, who had been silent and, Lucy observed, rather sulky-looking up to this point.  The blonde’s mouth hung open and her eyebrow stood cocked in disbelief.  Tiffany the brunette sighed and put her hands on her face.  Quickly, Castor broke the tension.

“So, what’re you having?”
            “Double espresso,” said the blonde.

“Chai Tea Latte,” said Tiffany.

After a moment, Brittany, still rather sulky, said “Brewed coffee.  Black.”

In the silence that followed, the three girls looked around themselves and, Lucy could see, wondered why they even bothered trying to stay together in a group.

After Castor gave the girls their drinks, he removed his glasses and rubbed his eyes.  Putting his glasses into the apron pocket, he turned to Lucy.

“Hey.  What’ll it be?”

Lucy was going to order, but noticed that his eyes, like his glasses, were a deep green.  He had long, curly brown hair in that perfectly messy, beachy manner, which complimented his innocent smile.  This was all on top of a body that, Lucy could see through the apron, was, in a word, ‘scrumptious’.  Scrumptious?  Oh, yes!  She still had to order.

“I’ll have a café au lait and a slice of that pound cake.”

Coming up,” Castor said.  He made the motions of readying her order, and, as he ducked into the dessert display, Lucy saw the blonde girl approach her with a smirk on her face.

“Hot, eh?” she asked.

Lucy laughed, slightly embarrassed.

“Oh, don’t be embarrassed, girl!  I know that look.  Girls have their tastes, and Castor’s everybody’s taste, I’m sorry.”

“Yeah, I was this close to ordering him instead of my pound cake.”

“He’d probably be sweeter.”

The two laughed.  Lucy loved making people laugh, and thought that she may want to get to know these girls better.

“I’m Heather.”

“Hi, I’m Lucy.”

This exchange about Castor reminded Lucy unpleasantly of Alex.  She grimaced and pushed it from her awareness.  When her order came, she sat with Heather and introduced herself to the other girls.

Heather, Tiffany and Brittany, Lucy quickly learned, were the soul members of Sim State University’s Tri-Vaar sorority.  Tiffany and Heather were both relatively light-hearted girls, and laughed readily at Lucy’s jokes, but Brittany was almost completely quiet and laughed very rarely, and, evidentially, in spite of herself.

When everyone had finished their drinks, the sorority girls excused themselves and parted – but Heather stayed behind to speak to Lucy privately.  As the two left the shop, Heather said,

“Lucy, I should say: if you’re interested in Castor, that’s fine.  As I said, he’s everybody’s taste.  Normally I’d tell you to go for it, but in this case – well, you’d stir up a lot of drama if you did, and I never thought I’d say this, but it’s not worth it.”

“Oh, I wasn’t actually considering it-”

“That being said,” Heather interrupted, “I don’t want to hear that kind of talk.  If you like somebody, go for it.  That’s my philosophy.”

“What?” said Lucy, “How can that work?  How can everybody go for whoever they want?  That doesn’t really make sense.”

Heather shook her head.
            “Lucy, you’re an art major.  I’m a drama major.  We thrive on passion, on emotion – that’s the key to our work.  That’s what it is to be human.  Have you ever heard of that guy, like, Epicurus?  There was a cool dude.  He had it right: death is the end, and we only have a limited time until then, so we should enjoy it.  Your senses, your emotions – it’s all a part of who you are, and what you do.  Enjoy the arts, enjoy your passions and enjoy the world.  Obviously, there are places where it’s not worth it to do whatever you want – Epicurus even said that it’s important to know when to stop, that’s just common sense – but our society, right now, is just so up-tight.  Don’t care about what people think, Lucy, and just do it.”

Lucy thought about this.  Her mother would certainly disapprove.  Oh, why does she care about what her mother thinks?  She’s away from that self-absorbed woman, now.  The idea does seem appealing.  And she knows when to stop – normally.  The thought of Alexander crept back into her head, the image of his closed eyes coming closer to hers, their lips slowly parting – no!  She looked directly back at Heather.

“I call it the ‘Think Pink’ philosophy – light-hearted, fun, but still sensible.  It’s really the way to live.”

Judging by the clothes Heather had put on that morning, she certainly was ‘thinking pink’.  Still, something about it didn’t sit well with Lucy – but she wasn’t sure if it was her thinking that, or her mother.  Why did she feel so uneasy about this?  Thoughts of Alex returned, and closed in on her.  She felt trapped within them, and claustrophobic, the unpleasant memories squeezing the breath from her chest.  Once again, she distracted herself.

“You know,” Lucy said, “that’s not such a bad idea.”

“You know,” Heather responded, “it’s really not.”

 

For the next several months, Lucy and Alexander did not speak.  As it was characteristic of herself, Lucy distracted and distanced herself from their awkward situation.  Alexander, meanwhile, escaped into his studies, at which he excelled, and into solitude.  Unlike Lucy, however, he could not forget.  That kiss they shared was not, as Alexander had told Lucy, and as he tried to tell himself, meaningless.  He did feel something, that night, and even as he lost touch with Lucy, that feeling remained.  When they crossed in the dorm, though he tried to look away, and to avoid her, but he still could not help but want to approach her.  It wasn’t love, he told himself.  It was just friendship.  He wanted to be Lucy’s friend, because she had been the first person ever to reach out to him.  His heart was far from aflame, he thought.  This was true – but even in the darkness of his solitude, there burned a candle.  It was characteristic of Lucy to forget, but it was characteristic of Alexander to remember.

Lucy, over that time, excelled in her studies, but was more apt to skip class and use her rapidly expanding influence (for it was widely known that she was a friend of the Tri-Vaar Sorority, and was very likely to be invited to join) to persuade others into writing portions of her papers for her.  She even, much to the excitement of Heather, became romantically involved with an extremely good-looking student named Alan.  Alan was a rather serious man, a biology major, with a cleft chin and dark eyes, hair and skin.  He was also an avid athlete, with a very muscular build.  His relationship with Lucy was never particularly stable, but they enjoyed each other’s company enough to stay together for some time.  Despite her efforts to forget Alexander, she made sure that he never found out.

By December, however, much of this changed: Lucy’s romance was still secret, but the air between her and Alexander had cleared, thanks to an encounter they shared with a snowman.

In November, the campus was thick with snow, and near Christmas, Lucy decided that she would make a snowman in front of the dorm, to greet entering students.  She had nearly finished, when Alexander appeared on the porch.

“Hi,” he said, not thinking.

Lucy, terrified at the sound of his voice, thrust a carrot into the side of her snowman’s face.

“Hi,” she responded, not looking.

“Here,” Alexander said, “his nose is crooked.”

“Oh, thanks.”

“Do you have anything for arms?”

“I’m going to take some branches from those pine trees, there.”

“Oh, okay.”

They stood there for a few moments, unsure of what to say.

“How are your classes doing?” Alexander asked.

“Oh, pretty well.  I’m really enjoying my program.”

“Wonderful.  So am I.”

“You’re in, what, physics?”

“No, Psychology.  I decided on psychology.”

“Oh, that’s cool.”

Alexander peered at the snowman.

“You know, his chest is a little uneven.”

“Is it?  Oh, it is.  Here, I’ll fix that.”

Together, they disassembled the snowman and made each portion perfectly round.  During this process, there was much laughter, and by the time they had repaired the snowman, their relationship was repaired, as well.

The next few weeks were extremely happy for Alexander.  The final exams and papers found him in his academic element, and his returned friendship with Lucy gave him a lighter heart than he had had for a very long time.  His unusual levity, particularly when with Lucy, made it impossible for him to deny his feelings for her any longer, and, as he could no longer keep it secret, he made out to tell her, on the last day of exams.

While Lucy sat her final exam, Alexander ate lunch in the cafeteria, which was situated directly to the right of the dorm’s entrance.  As she came in, he rose to greet her.

“How’d it go?”

“Good,” she said.  “Quite good.  I think I aced it.”

“Great,” Alex responded.  He was silent, for a moment.  Mentally, he kicked himself.  Why was he standing there?  He had to tell her.  He had to force himself.  This was the moment he was waiting for – DO IT!

“Lucy,” Alex said.  Someone turned on the radio at the far end of the cafeteria and some salsa music played loudly. 

“Yes?” Lucy enquired.

“Lucy, do you like this song?”  Alex asked, indicating the radio.

“Yes, actually, I do.”

“You know what you like,” Alexander observed.  “I’ve definitely noticed that about you.”

Lucy never understood that term, nor what it was to be someone who ‘knows what she likes’, nor whether it was a compliment, and so made a non-committal grunt.

“That’s something I wish I knew,” Alex pursued.  “Everything’s uncertain with me.  You know what else, Lucy?”

Lucy did not.

“You’re the kind of person who doesn’t care what people think.  When you want to do something, you go out and do it.  That’s another thing I wish I could do.  Even when I know what I want, I’m too worried about what’ll happen to ever do it.  I think I may emulate you, in that respect.”

“What?”  Lucy exclaimed, thinking of Alan, unwanted pangs of guilt pinching the back of her neck, “No, I don’t know about that.”

“It’s free, Lucy.  Something I’ve never really been.  Maybe you have regrets, but everyone has regrets.  You’ve made me discover some things about myself.  I’ve figured out some things I like.  Like dancing.”

Suddenly, Lucy remembered the way she felt, that warm September evening, with Alexander Goth, the beautiful artist, the eloquent poet, the creative genius; she recalled what she saw in his face when he played in the bar, and why she let him kiss her.

“Do you want to dance?”  Alex asked.  Asking this, he felt awkward and self-conscious; the cafeteria was mostly empty, but there were a few people there, who could easily observe him make a fool of himself – but, no, Alexander forced himself.

Lucy forgot about Alan, and, feeling a rush of emotion, laughed, and danced with Alex.  Alexander was stiff, at first, but as he and Lucy danced closer to each other, he became more comfortable, and freed his movements.  As the song ended, they stopped dancing, and Alexander, acting, for once on impulse, touched Lucy’s face, and drew her towards him for a tender kiss.

At that moment, there was a yell audible from behind the glass door of the main entrance.  Lucy pulled herself away at the sound.

Alan threw the door open and ran through.

“Who’s this?”  He bellowed.

“Who’s that?”  Alexander asked.

Lucy’s eyes darted nervously between the two men.

“Alan, this – Alex, uhh…”

“Lucy!”  Alexander exclaimed, looking upon the woman with hurt eyes, “You didn’t tell me you were seeing someone.”

“What?”  Alan shouted.  “How long has this been going on?”

“No!”  Lucy cried, “No!  Alan, I haven’t been-” she tried to find a way to word the sentence without hurting Alex.  “Alan, it’s not…”

Alexander turned red.

“Oh, my God, I didn’t know – I’m…  Lucy, had I known that I was unwanted, I-”

“Alex, no!  You’re not unwanted, I mean-”

“He’s not, is he?”  Alan said, still furious.  “Well, what do you mean?”

Lucy felt very nearly like crying: she was trapped in her worst nightmare, without a hope for escape.  A thought then hit her.

“I mean I’m leaving!  Goodbye!”  Lucy ran from the building.  She ran down the road, and made her way to the Tri-Vaar sorority house.  She rang the doorbell.

“Lucy!”  Tiffany cried, as she opened the door.

“Hi,” Lucy said.  “Are you still looking for a new member?”

 

Alexander, meanwhile, explained his situation to Alan and resumed his solitude in his room, which he decided was far too busy for his liking.  He decided that, if he were to get enough scholarship money that semester, he would move into a private residence, and spend the rest of his studies in solitude.  He was simply not cut out for campus life.

Back on track!

My friend sent me the file tonight! I’ll start writing tomorrow morning. It’s 11:00, here, but the time stamp probably won’t reflect it.

Delay

Hi, everyone.

I’m afraid that there’s been a delay — I was hoping to get the next part done in April, and it is now May.  Well, I’m afraid that my exam schedule was busier than I expected, so I didn’t really have time to write.  And now — well, I’m in England, and have been rather busy settling in.  I’ll be here for a few months, staying with a relative, which is all well and good for me, but bad news for you, because I don’t have The Goth Story file with me!  Fear not, however: Last month, I sent what I had done of Part II to a friend of mine, who is a critic, to read and give me feedback.  I’ll just send her a message, and she’ll send the file whenever she gets the message.

 I’ll get it done soon!

New Header!

Hello again.

If you’ve been here before, you’ve probably noticed that I changed the header to a picture of Pleasantview.  It’s not the best header for the stroy, I know, but it’s better than the completely irrelevant “Wooden Bridge Before a Leafless Tree in the Fog” theme.  What do you think?  I can crop it in two ways: with the shore in frame, but the hills and the top of the water tower out of frame (I have it like that now), or with the shore out of frame, but the hills and the water tower in?  I think it looks better this way, but I’ll change it if you think differently.

As for the story itself, I’ve written about a page and a half, and I’m not sure how long it’s going to be.  It’ll be out some time in April, but I’m not sure how soon: school is taking up all of my time, right now, and I’m going to be in England on May 1st, so I’ll have to pack and get my affairs in order — but I’ll get it done soon.

Since I’m making you wait, I’ll give you a little hint of what’s next to come:

Part two is focused more on Lucy, and we see her character in much greater detail.  I don’t want to give anything away, but she ceases to be the completely adorable, perfect girl we saw in part one; she has her flaws, and, I hope, will be more believable.

So, until then, au revoir!

Hello!

Thank you all so much for all of the positive feedback I’ve recieved, both here and on The Sims 2.com BBS!  It’s been fun to write, and I’m glad you’re enjoying it, too.

So, since this has just begun, I’d like to explain some things about how this series works.

  1. I’m treating this not as a story about a game, but just as a story that happens to be in the Sim universe.

This means two things: that I’m taking certain liberties with the Sims universe, and that I’m making a bit of an ironic comment about nerddom and fanfic, ha ha.

2.  While I’m taking liberties with the game, the story is essentially what happened in the game.

This means that the names are all the same, and the events are portrayed (more or less) in the same way that they turned out in the game.  So, for instance, Lucy and Alexander really did have their first kiss on their first day at Sim State, and Mortimer Goth really did die the day Alexander went to University, and that’s why these things are in the story in this way…  Although, I suppose, some of the events I did specifically for the story (the kiss, not Mortimer’s death, but it works out better that way, anyway — you’ll see how this plays into the plot later!

3.  In real life, I’m about the same age as Alexander is in this point of the story (Eighteen, first year University), so I don’t have a huge ammount of time on my hands, particularly now, when I’m so close to final exams.  So, the stories may come in a bit slowly during the year.  But the summer’s coming, so I’ll have more time, then! 

 

I think that’s really all you need to know for the story.  The rest would be no fun if I gave it all away!  If you have some more questions, I’ll address them in future Author’s Notes.   Until then, goodbye, and happy simming.

Part One

10 Years Later

 

            After unpacking his things, Alexander spent most of his first day on Sim State University campus reading in his room, leaving only once to go to class.  His first day of post-secondary education, the day he had been looking forward to for all of his life, after the miserable years of elementary school, when he was either made fun of for his glasses or, when he came home, for having to wear a uniform to his school; after the lonely years of high school, after his sister left home and married the artist, Darren Dreamer, and he would sometimes go days speaking only a few words to his father; the day his whole life had been building up to, had been unceremoniously blasted apart when he was informed of Mortimer Goth’s death. 

            Pointless as his life now was, his stomach’s call became louder and louder, until he finally decided to make his way into the cafeteria and eat.

            Taking a bowl of macaroni, Alexander sat at one of the long tables and ate, keeping his head so low that it took him a moment to realize that the girl across from him was trying to catch his attention.

            “Excuse me,” She said.  Alexander looked up.  She was wearing a white tank top with a red sweater over it, making her round face look like a strawberry with a brown bob-cut. 

            “Yes?” Alexander responded unenthusiastically.

            “I’m sorry, but I think we’ve met.  Alexander Goth?”
            Alexander looked at her again.  Who was she?  Perhaps she had seen his picture in the Sim City Times, and was trying to sneak her way into his address book, or even ensnare him and get his fortune.  But she did look familiar.  Yes, they had met.  Where had he seen her before?

            “Yes,” Alexander said.  “And you are?”

            “Lucy Burb.  We met…  Gosh, it must’ve been ten years ago.  I was nearly eight, I think.”

            Ah, that must’ve been it.  Some vague memories of a little whitewashed box in the Southwest corner of Pleasantview returned to Alexander’s mind.

            “Dear me, yes.  Lucy, I haven’t seen you in years.”

“I know!  I didn’t think we’d have shown up at the same dorm.  I didn’t even think you’d go to a dorm.  Or that you’d probably go over to the Academie, rather than this place.”

“I’ve always wanted to study at Sim State U,” Alexander responded.  “These brick walls with ivy souls, the homes of poets and physicists alike.”

Lucy smiled.

“You haven’t changed, Alex.  Not at all.”

Alexander’s cheeks turned pink, for a moment, and his lips formed the shadow of a smile.  His melancholy heart felt a finger of warmth for the first time in years, and he knew that the hand was Lucy’s.

“Why are you in Landgraab dorms?”  Lucy asked.  “I know you can afford a better res.”

“My father insisted that he not pay for my studies at all.  I agree with him.  I’d like to earn this by myself.  It will build character that I fear I’ve never built, having lived so decadently in our manor for all those years.  When I think of how my Pleasantview fellows must live in the lower-east side, I remember how fortunate I was.”

Lucy smiled.  Was this a rich man feeling genuine guilt over his birthright, or was he feigning the emotion for the sake of social gratification?  She didn’t know, nor would she try to find out.  Alexander was in a particularly hard time, and she wanted to help him through it.  She saw that he began to look downcast, having been reminded of his father.

            “I’ve heard about your bad news, Alex,” she said.  “I’m very sorry.”

            Alexander sighed.

            “Thank you,” he said.  “Although, I should have seen this coming.  His health has been failing since I was in high school.  It’s just a shame that it had to happen now.  We began to grow more and more distant when he-”

            He stopped himself before giving this secret away.  How could he have even begun to talk to this girl so freely?

            “Yes?” Lucy asked.  “It’s all right.  I honestly won’t tell a soul.”

            Alexander remained silent.

            “It’s all right if you don’t want to say,” said Lucy, “but you’ve already said this much.”

            That was true, Alexander thought: he had already said that much.  It would be silly of him not to continue.  If this woman was asking out of genuine concern, it would be rude of him not to.  And if she weren’t – well, surely, silence could only lead to speculation, and speculation is almost always worse than the truth.

            “When my father married Dina Callinete.  That’s when we began to drift apart.  I thought that – I think that – she was only interested in his money.  But father wouldn’t listen to me.  We’ve never argued; not even about this.  After all, it was his affair, and not my business, but my suspicion hovered over me every time I saw him, and he could sense it.  We spoke less and less.  My relationship with Dina soured, and we began to argue.  I don’t even know about what – I suppose that she knew what I think, and acted defensively.  But whether or not I am correct, we drifted apart, and now can never again fall back together.”

            Lucy took a moment to reflect on this.  She couldn’t imagine the kind of pain that Alex must be going through.  And she had the nerve to ask him about it.  She had to help him, somehow.

            “When I was a teenager,” she said, “I was very lonely.  My parents – well, we were so poor, my father was always at work, and my mother…” she considered her words. “Was just very distant.

            ‘When I turned seventeen, I made some friends who…  Who made me feel better.  We had parties, and did things together – we all belonged to each other, like a family.  We always used to go to a place near here – on campus, actually – that would always cheer me up.  We all liked it there.  And they didn’t ID us, either.  But it’s just – well, you’re having a hard time, and this place is special.  I think you’d feel better if you went.

            ‘Really, it’s great.  There’s live music, they make great drinks, it has a really friendly atmosphere.”

            “Where are your friends, now?”  Alexander asked.

            “They moved to Strangetown.  They’re in the Fiesta Tech.  Some moved into urban Sim City, and are working full-time.”

            “Do you see them much, any more?”

            “No.  I think that’s it for us.”

            They sat, reflectively.

            “Do you want to go?” Lucy asked, “The sun’s setting.”

            Alexander sighed.

“I see.  Well, I why not?  I will go.”

 

            The bar was decorated in a nearly garishly bright retro ‘60s motif, with shocking pink and blue walls, with psychedelic flowers painted on them.  The flower design was mirrored on every surface and piece of furniture in the room, except for the dark purple linoleum floor.  The decorations were chosen, Alexander hoped, with more than a hint of irony, but whether or not the room was intended to look as horrific as it did, it had an undeniably fun, animated atmosphere that made the anachronistic surroundings more than acceptable.  In one corner stood a piano, a drum set, a guitar and a bass, with a sign advertising that it was “Open Mic Nite”; in the opposing corner was the bar.

            Lucy and Alexander sat at the bar and ordered some drinks: Alexander a good, strong scotch, and Lucy a cosmopolitan.

            “So, do you still play the piano?” Lucy asked, playing with the lemon wedge on her glass.

            “Yes,” Alexander replied.  A slight pause followed.

            “You could elaborate,” Lucy said.

            “Oh, yes,” Alexander replied.  Why did he say ‘yes’ so much?  Say something interesting, man!  “Do you?”  Oh.  Well done, sir.

            “No, I’ve never played anything, I’m afraid,” Lucy answered.  “I paint a lot, though.  That’s why I went here, instead of La Fiesta Tech, actually.  The SSU art program is the best in the nation.  Do you know what you want to study?”

            “No,” said Alex.  “I think physics, maybe, but…  I’m just not sure.”

            The night wore on: Alexander took another scotch, Lucy an appletini, and another, and another, as the hours passed.  Alexander and Lucy talked.  Their conversation was flighty, but engrossing.  Alex had never talked so much in one evening.  He found Lucy so endearing, so warm and engaging.  There was something comforting about her, something that made him open up.

A few people began performing solos on the instruments on the other side of the bar, and Lucy and Alex took a table and began to watch.  After a few solos, Alexander stood up.

“Alex?”  Lucy asked.  “You going to play?”

Wordlessly, Alexander approached the guitar.  He took it up and began to play a melody he had heard once in a film.  The song was rather well-known, such that the soloists who played previously, and were still at their instruments, joined in:

 

In the velvet darkness of the blackest night,
Burning bright, there’s a guiding star.
No matter what or who you are.

There’s a light over at the Frankenstein Place.
There’s a light burning in the fireplace.
There’s a light; light in the darkness of everybody’s life.”

 

  Lucy had never heard Alexander play, and could not imagine the talent that she saw before her.  She rose from her seat.  Alexander stopped, and began a new song, but this time, he sang.  As he sang, he looked at Lucy, standing over the crowd at the tables, her eyes enchanted, her hands together over her heart.

 

Some time after midnight, Alexander and Lucy walked in drunken merriment back to their dorm.  They lingered on the patio, again deep in conversation.  College rock emanated from a stereo by the sliding glass door, and Lucy began to dance.

“Do you dance?” She asked Alexander.

“No,” Alexander replied, laughing.

“Not at all?”

He used to dance with his mother to her salsa music, before she went missing, but he wasn’t about to tell her that.

“I’ve never danced,” he said.

“Come on!  It’s easy.  Just move.”

Alexander stepped towards her and stepped side to side, uneasily.

“Move your hips, and your arms.  Loosen up.”

“Like this?”

“Like anything.  It doesn’t matter – just move.  There you go, Alex!”

Alex.  Who had called him Alex?  In school, he was Goth, and to his father and neighbours he was Alexander.  No one called him Alex.  Except his mother: his mother called him Alex.

“Lucy,” Alex said, putting his hands on his partner’s waist, “you’re really fun.”

“You’re really fun too, actually,” Lucy responded.  “You’re full of surprises.”

In the moonlight, the two looked at each other.  Alexander saw a warm, unassuming sprite, and Lucy an elegantly cold, beautiful gargoyle.  The moonlight illuminating their pale forms, Alexander and Lucy put their arms around each other, and closing their eyes, shared their first kiss.

Prologue

            In the Pleasantview valley, the few homes and businesses stand inconspicuously on the green grass, bathed in eternal sunshine.  All of them white and most no more than a few stories tall, they lie in a suburban stupor, inconspicuous and plain.  Facing North, one sees the steep banks of the river on the far left, and the bridge that runs over it; then the whitewashed “Fiesta Flats”, with their tan, urbane inhabitants.  Across the street lies the tidy box in which local artist Darren Dreamer resides, and then the stately manor of the wealthy socialites, the Pleasants. Further east is the perfect façade of the Mavric family, notoriously reactionary and in fierce competition with the Pleasants for social supremacy, and then, in the poor, unfashionable outskirts, the aptly named Brokes.

            Amid the white stucco and sunbathed palm trees, however, stands a building so conspicuous and unusual that its inhabitants would likely be completely ostracized by Pleasantview society, were it not for the fact that they were the single richest family in Sim City.  The Goth residence was raven-black, nearly four stories tall, with a functioning observatory on its roof and had the Goth family cemetery within its grounds.  Its owner, the elderly Mortimer Goth, was an ill-tempered recluse, whose wife had mysteriously disappeared three years before – the exact circumstances of the event were a mystery to all, except, rumour had it, to Mortimer himself, although everyone was convinced that the secret would die with him.  His two children, Cassandra and Alexander, were similarly reclusive, clad always in severe black.  Alexander was a musical prodigy, always headlining piano recitals around the city.  Cassandra was a noted scientist who had sparked near outrage by revealing that she had been involved with one of the suburb’s most eligible and active bachelors, Don Lothario, not by simply being seen in public with him, but by actually, seemingly out of nowhere, announcing her engagement to him!  This reputation would have proven too much for any other family in Pleasantview, but, of course, the Goths’ family fortune saved them from all.

            As they were such a prominent family, it was important to be connected to them – and so, one hot Saturday morning, his neighbour, Daniel Pleasant, invited Mortimer to take coffee and to chat.  And so they sat in the kitchen, sipping and chatting.

            “You know,” Daniel Pleasant said, “My sister has a daughter about Alexander’s age.”

            “Eh?  You have a sister?” Mortimer squawked.

            “Uh, yes,” Daniel replied.  “Jennifer.  She’s married to John Burb, now, and took his name – that’s probably why you didn’t know she was my sister.  She lives down by Don Lothario.”

            “Ah, yes.” Mortimer grunted, evidentially dismayed that Lothario’s name had to be dragged into the matter.

            Daniel’s wife Mary-Sue floated numbly by, absent-mindedly dusting the fireplace in the adjoined dining room.  She was the one who had invited Mortimer over and forced Daniel to make him coffee: Lord knows that she needed as many family friends as she could get, if she wanted a promotion.  Since losing her first job in municipal government, after inadvertently replacing the Mayor’s speech with the first act of Titus Andronicus, she had taken a job as a paramedic at the local hospital – unfortunately, however, she had not advanced as quickly as she had hoped.  Her husband, meanwhile, was near the top of his career as an athlete, and Mary-Sue was feeling more than slightly bitter about this.  But that’s another matter entirely.

            “Anyway,” Daniel continued, “she has a daughter named Lucy, who’s eight years old.  How old is Alexander, again?”

            “Eight,” Mortimer said.

            “Oh, wonderful.  Perhaps I should tell Jen to have Alex over, some time.”

            “Yes, Perhaps,” Mortimer said, looking into his coffee.  He hated coffee.