perform_admirably | (no subject)

Spock's been patronizing a local grower for the entirety of the spring and summer, an organic grower who sets up show in a small number of locations in the city. Today it is the young man with the long honey-brown hair behind the register, which is stationed just outside of the city park.

As Spock reaches out for a red bell pepper that's caught his attention, considering the possibility of a stir fry, the cashier stops him.

"You buy this stuff a lot," the man, almost a boy really, says in a drawn-out drawl of a voice.

"Because I eat 'this stuff' on a daily basis," Spock replies.

The boy raises both hands, almost mockingly defensive. "S'alright, I didn't mean nothin'. You're a good customer, is all. Hey--" he says, leaning closer to Spock's puzzled, straight face from behind the rows of celery and cucumbers. "You're a real good customer. Think you'd be interested in a more special product? 'Cause you seem hella discreet and stuff."

"Special?" Spock asks, more dismissive than actually curious.

"Special. For you, I got Blackberry Kush, Pineapple Express. It's all great stuff, it'd help a dude like you out in serious ways."

"I didn't know that you sold fruits."

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Lifting one shoulder in a shrug, I say, "It's not really that simple. This place frustrates the fuck outta me, but I've been doin' this for seven years. You and Jim have lives you wanna go back to. I kinda don't."

The only life I've got any interest in is with Mike and the twins, and right now, that life is here.

"Asking too many questions about it kinda seems like pokin' at a bear, you know?"

I kinda don't sticks with Spock, enough that he falls quiet, deep thought obvious in the single furrow that splits his brow as he stares at Neil.

"Poking at the bear?" he asks, before parsing his way through Neil's words. "You are concerned that there may be consequences if you refuse to take your life here for granted? This life is preferable to you, regardless of the artificial circumstances?"

"I know that none of this is real. That I've got no fuckin' control over it, and if I look behind the curtain, I might not like what I find," I answer, stopping for traffic so we can cross the road, the apartments just a block over.

"I'm real, Mike's real, you're real. My daughters? I don't know. They've only ever existed in places like this. I just... I don't like being fucked with, I'm not crazy, but I don't know, man."

The truth is, the only life I've ever had that was worth fuck all is the one I built on the island, the one I brought with me here. But we're on a fucking crosswalk on a busy street, and it feels weird just blurting something like that out.

Something about I don't like being fucked with resonates with Spock, whether or not he would ever admit to it. He gives Neil an incisive look for a moment as he turns sideways to let a couple pass on the sidewalk, carefully juggling his groceries.

Despite his own feelings to the contrary, there is a kind of logic in what Neil has to say. "Whether or not it's real, your experience of it makes it so. You would rather have a satisfying life rather than one of ultimate truth, at all times. I admit, I do not entirely disagree with your outlook. Only, I wish I could do the same. I do not feel like I am making much of a difference in the lives of others, here."

"If it's any consolation, I like havin' you here," I say with a crooked grin, but I understand what he really means. "The first... two years that I spent in a place like this, I didn't do shit. I sat around, complaining and fighting with my boyfriend and fucking. It took me a while to find my feet, you know?"

And now I run a sex shop. I'm not sure everybody'd agree that's a worthy service that makes a difference in people's lives.