The Tiff Singularity (A Collection of Lake Wonder Fiction)

This Godless Endeavor #0: Not-Halloween

The morgue buzzes quietly, machines whirring under the sound of the music Kay Clark does her paperwork to. It's something the three of them decided on together, mostly without Tiff's input. It's more of a courtesy on Kay's part than anything-- Type O Negative, because Dr. Deseret thinks it's funny and that's the way compromises go sometimes.

Tiff dries her hands on a paper towel instead of the sides of her jeans. Another compromise-- Dr. Deseret cares deeply about hygiene. Tiff supposes she doesn't blame her; the woman has been a doctor for longer than Lake Wonder has been a town. She was there when surgeons scrubbing their hands became fashionable. At the very least, Tiff has gotten enough scoldings that even she can't forget.

"Hey, Kay," she calls, knowing full well that Kay is in another room entirely. "What's left to do before I leave?"

"Have you cleaned the lab equipment yet?" Kay calls back. Her voice is low and gravelly, but clear enough that Tiff can understand her from next to the sink.

"Not yet!"

"Do those, then! Hey, Dr. Deseret, do you have that information I needed for this paperwork yet?"

Kay doesn't get an answer.

Kay doesn't get an answer.

Snickering as the woman groans and exits her office, Tiff turns around to the sink and pops her own earbuds in. As fun as the compromise is, there's no point in forcing herself to listen to what Kay likes when she could be listening to something else entirely. She skips through the few Chameleons songs there. There's no need to think about Mr. Mathew right now. She isn't sure why, but The Chameleons always make her think about Mr. Mathew.

It has been two months since she last saw him, and seven since everything went to shit. And what is she supposed to say to him? I'm sorry your life got ruined by the whims of fate? I'm sorry you got powers that were meant for your son and had to help save the world? I'm sorry that I liked you before but the way you acted when you were possessed by a shadow creature made me terrified of you because every man I've known that occupied the dual demographics of middle-aged and father has treated me horribly and I thought you were going to do the same so I started throwing grapes at you when you started pointedly ignoring me after I told a cop you were my dad because I couldn't think of anything else to do? I'm sorry I don't know how to say I care about you without yelling it at you? I'm sorry I'm so blinded by my sense of duty to the nebulous greater good and my compulsive need to volunteer that I refused to hear your entirely valid and frankly correct reasons for bowing out of a form of godhood I will never admit I am terrified of?

Please. She can't say that. That stupid. He probably wouldn't want to hear it, anyway.

She saw him at the grocery store the other day, when she was trying to get her aunt to commit to the bit and buy her grapes. Like she always does when she sees someone she is avoiding, she ducked down until he was gone, then went to hide in the bathroom until her aunt threatened to leave her at the store. It's normal. It's just a thing she has to do. It's fine. That way, she doesn't break down between produce displays and tell him every thought she has had since April. Writing letters in her head works just fine for now.

It isn't like she has to see him often anymore. It's not like there's a science bowl at the college level that she and Percy would participate in together. All good things must end, and the same is true for the horrible and awkward.

Tiff disassembles the pipettes. She doesn't know why this is the type that Dr. Deseret has them use. Maybe there just isn't room in the budget for new ones that aren't made like this. Maybe she's just a traditionalist.

She tries to focus on the task at hand. Truth be told, she always lets her mind wander when she's working with her hands. Mundane tasks like cleaning lab equipment, painting, sewing, or building bombs in the basement of a friend's half-abandoned cabin in the woods are all things that don't require much thought for her.