Daylight

Viv’s POV

I closed my browser window after reading the “Breaking” section one last time. I couldn’t help but feel a little smug, seeing the ‘Bathers on the RS website after helping to arrange the whole thing.

However, any feelings of satisfaction I might have given in to were interrupted by Bobby and Steph, who were arguing at volume level eleven.
Good thing we were mostly alone in the AP trailer.

“All I fucking said was, Why is it that all the good punk bands are from Sweden?” Bobby was hollering when I tuned back in.
“And all I said was, You’ve gotta be kidding me!” Steph yelled back. “Just look at all the great American punk bands there are!”
“Most of whom are defunct or falling apart!” Bobby countered.
“Oh, fuck that, Bobby!” Steph grabbed her press pass and stormed out of the trailer before he could answer her.

Bobby sank into a rolling chair, closing his eyes and rubbing his temples.
I couldn’t resist: “Trouble in Paradise?”
The intern held out one hand, the other still busily trying to hold off a headache. “Don’t…say…anything,” he hissed at me.

A snicker escaped before I could hold it in.

“Laughing at me counts, you know,” Bobby warned me.
“Sorry,” I mumbled.
He finished massaging his head, having apparently given up trying to relieve tension. “Viv, can I ask you something?” he questioned timidly.
I hesitated. “I don’t know; will answering you get me yelled at?”
He sighed. “No. Sorry about that,” Bobby said resignedly. “But…can you tell me…why in God’s name do women act they way they do?”
I leaned back in the desk chair I was occupying. “There are lots of answers to that question, my friend,” I responded carefully. “Some of them could probably get me kicked out of the sisterhood.”
His eyes popped open. “What??”
I shook my head. “Nothing. A little humor…a very small amount, as it turns out.” I looked at him. He was miserable. “So how long have the two of you been arguing?”
Bobby sighed again. “I dunno, maybe…a week and a half,” he muttered. “So, like, half the time we’ve been together on the tour.”
I raised my eyebrows. “Are they substantial arguments, about anything serious?” I asked.
He shrugged. “Nah, mostly about stupid shit, just like now.”

I thought, Marriages break up over stupid shit, kiddo.
Out loud I said, “Can you think of anything that might’ve set her off?”
“No,” he groaned.
I hesitated before asking, “Is Steph…hormonally challenged?”
Bobby looked up at me. “If she is,” he remarked, “she might wanna see a doctor. It’s been going on a lot longer than I’d think would be normal.”
“Okay, so we can scratch the personal stuff,” I mused. “Either of you have problems with Tim or other staff, that might be leaking into the general relationship?”
He twisted his mouth in contemplation. “I know she had a meeting with Tim recently, I don’t remember when exactly,” he answered. “But we all had meetings with him, you know, about where we think the internship might be headed.”
A light was beginning to dawn. “And most of you are equally dedicated to your journalism majors,” I pointed out. “Maybe it had her thinking about what happens…after the summer’s over?”
“You think?”
“Competition’s a powerful issue.”
He frowned. “But we all have a year of school after this summer. And an internship’s no guarantee of a job anywhere,” Bobby replied.
I leaned forward conspiratorially. “Look,” I said in a low voice, “I’ve seen how Tim can be sometimes. He likes to keep people sharp by pitting them against one another. It’s not right, but he obviously thinks it gets results.”
“How do you know that?”
I shrugged. “I’ve had other bosses who’ve been similar,” I muttered. “Instead of creating a team, they thrive on tension, which maybe isn’t the healthiest thing to do, especially to people who don’t have much work experience. Yeah, things can be cutthroat at a magazine, but you still need to cooperate with each other in order to get out the publication every month.”
Bobby looked thoughtful.
I lowered my voice a little more. “A few veiled threats seem to be his stock in trade as well,” I all but whispered. “He might have said something about personal relationships and their place, if you know what I mean.”

His mouth opened a little in shock.

“It’s not like you two take a lot of trouble to hide what’s going on,” I continued. “And if this was mentioned to Steph and not to you, she might be having a lot of internal stress about it.”
Indignation took over his features then. “We are none of Tim’s business,” he stated.
“Sure you are,” I remarked. “Interns might be regular employees someday. Tim—and other bosses, too—might see current behavior as an indication of future behavior.”

Bobby sighed. “So what do I do?”
“Talk to Steph, first thing,” I suggested. “If you guys really are in a relationship, and you want to stay there, you both need to find a way it can work. If it doesn’t”—I held up my hand to stop his protest—“it’s not the end of the world. It’d make things awkward, but that can’t really be worse than arguing all the time, which would only prove Tim’s point.”
He got up right away. “I don’t want that to happen.”
I smiled. “You really like her, huh?”
He considered for a moment, then his own face brightened. “Yeah—yeah, I do,” he confirmed. “I don’t know what’s gonna happen in the next year, or the next day, but I’ll be goddamned if I let someone else tell me what I can or can’t do with a girl I like.”
“That’s the stuff,” I encouraged him.

Just then, the trailer door creaked open, and there stood—Steph. She looked shyly at Bobby.
“Hey,” she said softly.
“Hey,” he answered.
“Lunch?” she asked. “We gotta talk.”
“Yeah we do,” Bobby agreed. He turned to me. “See you, Viv—and thanks.”
I nodded, and the two of them left without another word.

Sometimes it’s good to be old..er.

And sometimes not.

A few minutes later, my phone rang. I looked at the caller ID and sighed, really not in the mood for the conversation that would surely follow.
“Hello?”
“Vivian?”
“Yes, Mary, it’s me. How’s things?”
“Fine, fine,” my sister said in a tone that implied that things were far from fine. “How’s Petula?”
I’m good, thanks, and you? “She’s doing great. The band was just featured on the Rolling Stone website,” I said cheerfully, knowing she would hardly care.
“That’s nice,” Mary agreed in a vague tone. “Nothing…important…going on?”
By important, I assumed she meant sex, and since I wasn’t sure, and it was none of my business or hers, I didn’t really answer her. Besides, Joe seemed like a nice guy, and Petula was more than likely not going to get serious with him anyway.
“Everything’s normal, Chief,” I answered in my best secret-agent voice. “The operatives have been given their instructions, and all is proceeding smoothly.”
God, but I loved fucking with her. “Vivian, this is no laughing matter,” she reminded me.
“I’m sorry, was I laughing? Must’ve slipped out.”
“I don’t want to worry about her all summer,” my sister fretted.
“…But you will anyway,” I finished for her. “Look, Mary, she’s fine. She’s having a great time, the band is doing well…as far as I can tell, all her dreams are coming true. Isn’t her happiness the most important thing?”
That got her right where she lived. “Of course, I want her to be happy,” Mary insisted, “but….”
“No buts when it comes to happiness,” I interrupted. “Please, Mary, I know it won’t do any good to tell you this, but really: don’t worry. I know it’s not in your nature, but give it a try. You might sleep better and not get an ulcer.”
“Don’t tell me how to feel about my daughter,” she said coldly.

There was a pause while I decided the best response.

“I love her too,” I said quietly. “I know it upsets you to have her so far away, but I’d tell you if something was actually wrong. And so far, nothing is wrong. So maybe your energies would be best spent another way.”

I waited, but she said nothing.

“And maybe you could call her yourself,” I continued.
“She’d just lie and tell me everything’s okay,” my sister grumbled.
I was a little shocked. “Petula doesn’t lie,” I replied. “In fact, sometimes I wish she would. She might spare some feelings that way.”
“And you’d know about that, wouldn’t you, Viv?” Mary asked me. “Listen, I have to go. I’ll talk to you in a few days.”

As she hung up, I muttered, “Jesus, I can’t wait.”