A Spot on the Beach, Saturday Late Evening

[thismaskiwear]

Katchoo had, by some twist of fate or sick joke on the part of the universe, managed to completely miss seeing Francine at all since she'd woken up this morning, and wasn't even aware Francine was at the reunion; she hadn't exactly gone out of her way to ask. She left her current phone number with Francine's mother whenever she moved or changed phones, but that had, for the better part of the last couple of decades, been the extent of her contact with her erstwhile best friend.

She'd spent the day wandering the island, checking out her old haunts and taking time out every now and then to field a call from Rosa and make arrangements for her latest gallery showing, and it was well after dark by the time she made it down to the beach.

Katchoo didn't set foot on beaches much these days, living in Santa Fe as she did, and they were tied up in some bittersweet memories for her. Not that it stopped her from taking a moment to just stand there, looking out across the reflection of moonlight on the waves, and thinking back. She might be mellower now than she'd been in her high school days, but she hadn't broken the habit of brooding yet, and wasn't about to start now.

[OOC: For one, la. Re PB, yes, I think I'm hilarious and thatsamilkshake encouraged me.]

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[thismaskiwear.livejournal.com]

Katchoo hadn't heard that. She hadn't heard anything but the sound of the ocean and the stupid persistent song playing on a loop in her brain, and she'd made up her mind that really, enough was enough.

Why stay here on the beach and get lost in her own maudlin thoughts? She had plenty enough time for that at home, and there were people she -- surprise -- actually wanted to check up on while she was here.

Silently, unaware of any momentarily distracted observers in the darkness, she got up and trailed along the edge of the water for a while before heading back up to the road and into town.

[thatsamilkshake]

"Is that all? I signed the permission slip already; it's on the desk in the family room. Tell her -- oh. Well, give her a kiss from me in the morning, th--"

Why Francine looked up at that point and not sooner or later, she couldn't say, but she couldn't say much of anything now, looking at the dark and empty beach. There was nobody there at all, and Francine found herself wondering if there ever had been.

"Honey?"

She leaned back against the guiderail behind her, throat too tight to answer, still.

"Francine, dear, is everything okay?"

Eyes closed against the sight of the empty shore and voice so strained that it cracked halfway through the first word, she finally answered, "Oh, Momma. It's not. It's so not."