The First Hundred Years are the Hardest (Sean)

[Barbara Robinson]

Barbara wasn't sure if it was because of the season or something else, but whatever the reason, Shake just hadn't been seeing that many customers over the past few weeks. Were the winter months always this slow? There had been a steady trickle of customers during that day's lunch hour (well, eleven to two, really), but now that it was a bit later in the afternoon, the joint was virtually empty.

Not that Barbara minded, necessarily: so long as she did enough business to pay the bills, she would rather it not be too crowded. Crowded meant more work to do, at any rate, and more running around, which obviously wasn't her favorite. As it was, the woman now sat on her side of the bar by the register, a few pieces of paper spread out on her section of the bartop. They contained spreadsheets of her finances over the past few months; she was thinking of hiring a new parttime waiter - maybe a student or something like that, so she wouldn't feel so bad about paying them less - and wanted to make sure she had it in her budget. It looked like she did, but she tried to be as careful as possible with her money because she certainly knew what it was like to feel the pinch. Her mother used to say the first hundred years were the hardest; she used to reply the second hundred were probably also pretty lousy.

Over in the corner, the jukebox blasted out Benny Goodman's cover of "Sing, Sing, Sing (With a Swing)." As far as she knew, it was the most famous piece from the swing era. Hell, if nothing else folks these days knew it from the Nabisco commercials. The piece was a bit older than her shop was supposed to be by about 15 years, but she figured it was still good enough to use. At any rate, she liked the music and figured other folks probably did, too. A spoon sat beside the papers, which had clearly been in use at one point. Hey, why not help yourself if nobody else is interested, right?

[Dr. Sean Neville]

Since Chanukah lasted for eight nights and eight days, Josh had both the time and the ability to divide his attention between home and his parents in Burlington. Tonight, the attorney had promised to visit his mother and father, which left Sean to his own devices for the evening. He didn’t mind at all, since the holiday held no personal significance to him; he simply enjoyed spending time with Josh, celebrating as his partner saw fit.

Since he had been left alone, the telepath chose to take a detour before going home after work. That brought him to the mall, with the intention to indulge his sweet tooth.

As he walked among the shops, weighing his options, he passed an ice cream shop and a familiar figure seated near the front. Barbara, whom he’d met at the Holiday Bash.

They’d had more than a bit in common, if he recalled. And since the shop was otherwise empty, he thought she could use the company. Or at least a paying customer. Particularly since there was no “closed” sign in the window, alerting him to the fact that this was a business procedure.

As he stepped over the threshold, a bell jingled, announcing his presence. A smile crossed his lips in greeting, as he asked, “I hope I’m not interrupting?”

[Barbara Robinson]

Normally, as the bar was situated fairly close to the entrance, Barb would see immediately when a new customer had arrived. At this point, however, the woman had been so certain that nobody else would be coming that she had allowed herself to more or less bury her nose in her spreadsheets. It wasn't until she heard the bell, then, that she looked up from her work to see a familiar face.

"You sure are," she said with a grin as she ostentatiously shoved her papers over to the side; she had gone over the numbers a dozen times that day, so it wasn't as though she was actually busy. Frankly, she had been waiting for someone or something to pry her away from all those numbers. "Come on in; how've you been?" She asked, taking a moment to clear the area a bit better so that he could sit near her at the bar if he so chose. "How are things over at the school?" Barbara remembered him mentioning that he worked at Hammel; she wondered if they were on break like normal schools were.

Seeing Sean reminded her of all that happened at the holiday party, which was now a few days passed. On the whole, it had been an enjoyable evening, even if it had gotten a bit weird towards the end and ultimately culminated in her seeing a strange man's behind out in the parking lot. It had still been nice to meet a few new people, particularly Sean, with whom she had found quite a bit to talk about.

"Anything I can get for ya?" She asked as she leaned on the bar.

[Dr. Sean Neville]

While Sean was a naturally curious person, he wasn’t particularly nosy, despite what some other people in town might think. He didn’t crane his neck to glance at the papers she shoved aside, although his telepathy told them they were business-related. All the more reason for him not to intrude.

With the invitation, he stepped further into the shop, taking the opportunity to assess it. The atmosphere was warm and welcoming, exactly what one might expect from an ice cream shop, and he was sure – at least he hoped – that it was full of life and customers during the warmer seasons. Winter was difficult for ice cream sales, particularly in a place like Vermont with long winters and seemingly perpetual snowfall.

The telepath approached the bar, looking up at the menu to browse the options. While doing so, he answered her question, “Things are fine. We’re winding down for the winter break, which is nice. Then most of the students will scatter to the four corners of the country until January, and the rest of the staff gets a few weeks of relaxation.” In the intervening time, he had work to do, particularly to make sure that all students had new scripts for their medications before returning home, and that those prescriptions were filled. He didn’t want anyone to run through their anxiety or depression medications while on break.

“And how have you been?” From what he had seen and learned of her during the party the other day, he had become fond of her.

“And I think a brownie sundae, if you have brownies within reach. But with mint chip ice cream, I think.” That fit the season nicely.

[Barbara Robinson]

Barbara wouldn't mind telling him what the papers were for - frankly, she would feel comfortable telling just about anyone that she was simply going over some business expenses - and had in fact shoved them away so unceremoniously just to show Sean that she was joking about him interrupting. But after poring over those rows and columns on and off for the past week, she was all too happy to get a little rough with them.

Sean was correct in his assumption about the summer business. Usually Barbara would hire two or three part-time waiters, since it tended to get very busy, particularly in summer evenings when young families liked to come buy for a treat after dinner. Hiring a few helping hands also meant that she could run out if she needed to and leave the storefront in capable hands if she trusted them enough. In winter, she was basically stuck here from ten until nine.

Her curiosity regarding Hammel was certainly satisfied by Sean's response; she had to admit that, despite having lived in the area for quite a while, she didn't really know much about the school. Not being a meta-human herself, she'd never had occasion to go visit, and it wasn't as though people just whipped out their powers here at Shake. She found the whole thing fascinating, especially that they got breaks like other kids (she tried to avoid using the phrase "normal kids," though it sometimes slipped while just in her thoughts). She nodded her head as he mentioned that he would have a few weeks to relax. "Sounds nice," she noted.

"I've been good, I've been good," she replied, and unlike most people, she actually usually meant what she said when folks asked her how she was. She had nothing to complain about, anyway; she had enough money for now, business was a bit slow but would pick up come spring, and beyond that everything else was chugging along. "Trying to figure out if I can-slash-should hire a kid to help out around here for the next couple months," she added, looking bemusedly over at the papers. "Sure doesn't look like I need the help, does it?" She asked, gesturing to all of the empty tables.

Barb couldn't help but laugh. "Within reach? I knew I liked you," she said through a toothy grin as she slipped on a pair of plastic disposable gloves and opened up the case of brownies sitting on the bar admittedly a few feet away. "Worth the trip for a friend," she laughed as she placed it into a dish. "Mint chocolate chip, mint chocolate chip..." she recited to herself as she searched through the bins before finding the right container. "Oh, how's umm..." she began, thinking for a moment as she plopped a few scoops of ice cream into the dish, "... oh, Josh?" She felt a bit guilty for forgetting the other man's name, but heck, she'd met four men in rapid succession and was surprised she remembered any of the names at all. The ice cream joined the brownie in the dish, and Barb went to work quickly adding some whipped cream, hot fudge sauce - the thickest in Vermont, she liked to say - and cherry before placing it down in front of Sean. "Fit for a king," she said, reaching down below the bar to fetch for him a napkin and spoon.

[Dr. Sean Neville]

“If you do want to hire a teenager, I know a few who are looking for work,” Sean remarked. While Hammel’s internship program didn’t include retail work, he still knew of several students at Hammel who needed the pocket money, as well as the older children of a few families in his neighborhood, although they were less in need of the paychecks. Families on his cul-de-sac tended not to hurt for money.

He settled beside her on a stool, stretching his legs a bit to make himself comfortable. One arm leaned on the bar counter for support. “And I can help make sure that the ones with good work ethic are steered in your direction.” Sam was occupied through an internship for the next several months, but Vincent remained a liability. Not that Sean was concerned that he would actually apply for a job, but there were several students who were ill-suited to customer service jobs. Or in Vincent’s case, employment as a whole. But several other students would make model employees and would get on well with her.

Sean smiled at the mention of his partner, and he turned to watch as Barbara set about making the sundae. “Josh is doing well. With the holidays approaching, court begins to thin out and slow down, which means he gets a bit of a break too. And he’s enjoying Chanukah with his parents tonight.” Josh went out of his way to mention to everyone that he didn’t celebrate Christmas, partially as an attempt to fight erasure of his cultural and religious identity and partially due to his contempt for the Christmas season. As such, it had come up during the Holiday Bash, when people wished each other Merry Christmas amongst the drinking, dancing, and cavorting. Sean, likewise, was open about his laissez-faire attitude regarding the entire season.

The telepath’s smile widened when Barb set the sundae down before him. It looked and smelled delicious, and he was positive that the taste would match appearances. “This looks wonderful,” he remarked with delight.

[Barbara Robinson]

An eyebrow raised into the air inquisitively as Sean mentioned knowing some students that might be looking for work. If Sean knew them and was willing to recommend them, they were probably pretty good, no? "Yeah, I mean I'm hoping to give it to someone who could, ya know, use the money," she said, leaning against the bar with one elbow as she was apt to do. "But one or two kids has already inquired, so I guess I should give them first go, ya know?" She added. Initiative and all that, she supposed. Might as well hire someone who really wanted it. "Appreciate the offer, though; I'll let ya know if I'm still lookin'." She still wasn't completely sure that she would be hiring anyone anyway, but the idea was sounding more and more practical the longer she thought about it.

"Oh good," the brunette replied as Sean mentioned that Josh was doing well. "Glad to hear it." She had learned at the party that Josh was a lawyer of some kind; she didn't remember the specifics, but it had sounded like pretty important work at the time. She found it very interesting that even the court system lightened up a bit over the holidays. "Boy, I guess things are really windin' down for the year then, huh?" She asked thoughtfully. She nodded as Sean mentioned that Josh was celebrating Chanukah with his parents; that was another little tidbit she had picked up at the party. She did have a good memory, when she tried.

Barbara nearly beamed with pride as Sean complimented the sundae; she secretly really enjoyed seeing how adults turned into little kids when a big ol' bowl of ice cream was placed in front of them. It especially meant something coming from someone like Sean; he seemed to have this important job and this big life with lots of friends and such; Barbara didn't know much about that. "Yeah, I think I'll have one too," she replied with a laugh as she set about making up a dish for herself. Who was she to resist a bowl of ice cream? And she hadn't had mint chocolate chip in a long time.

"So remind me what you do at the school?" She asked as she brought a spoonful of ice cream up from her own dish into her mouth and chewed thoughtfully. It had been mentioned at the party, but only just before a bit of craziness started, and she didn't recall. "I know you said you work with the kids." She was dying to ask what they were like - not the ones he dealt with specifically, but the meta-students in general - but figured such a question might seem too nosy.

[Dr. Sean Neville]

Sean nodded. “Of course; that’s only fair.” The applicants who had taken the initiative and already applied were entitled to having their applications reviewed. His offer had been if she hadn’t began the process yet, as well as to avoid another situation like the one with Josh’s law firm last year. Although he was sure that anyone who wasn’t Josh or Janice would actually interview for a job before hiring, particularly one that involved customer service; it wouldn’t be easy to shove someone in the back where their conduct had no direct impact on sales here. “But if you need recommendations, you can always contact me.”

The telepath nodded, concurring with her assessment. “They are. In a few weeks, we’ll have the New Year. And hundreds of people across this nation will have to cope with the fact that time marches on.” He didn’t envy their analysts the inevitable fallout of doomsday proclamations failing to manifest. He also hoped that there would not be a spike in the murder-suicide rate when the twenty-first arrived, although that had been the case with Y2K.

It was a shame.

However, another smile touched his lips at her suggestion, distracting him from that train of thought, and he nodded once in enthusiastic agreement. Since she wasn’t busy, and he was already distracting her, there was no reason (as far as he was concerned) for her not to join him in eating ice cream. It was precisely what one needed at the end of a workday.

With that, he brought the spoon into the ice cream, taking off a fair helping of both mint and brownie (as well as hot fudge), before bringing it to his lips. Then he sighed in pleasure; it tasted even better than it looked. “This is Heavenly.”

Sean took another spoonful and swallowed before he answered her question; it was rude to speak with a full mouth. “I’m the on-staff psychiatrist,” he explained. While he couldn’t divulge information about specific students and their confidences, and he also couldn’t speak at length about Hammel official business and the content of staff meetings, he was always happy to talk about his job. Despite all of the street, he loved working at Hammel; he wouldn’t have remained there for so long if he didn’t find his position rewarding.

As well, he did care deeply about the students. “And I do get to work directly with them, which is nice. Even though it isn’t always in the best of circumstances.”

Sometimes it was, and he had protégés as a result. Other times, he had to sit in his office lecturing Vincent Verax about jumping off the roof.

[Barbara Robinson]

Barbara nodded her head in gratitude. "'Preciate it," she stated. Speaking with Sean about the issue had helped her all but make up her mind on the matter; she appreciated having someone to bounce ideas off, which wasn't a convenience she often had.

The middle-aged woman misconstrued Sean's remark about the new year as one less about the Mayan calendar and more about people just generally not being pleased as time moved forward. Getting older and all that. She had to agree with them, though, at least to a point: she sure wasn't getting any younger, and getting out of bed in the morning to come to the shop and wait on people all day wasn't getting any easier. As it was, she didn't know much about the Mayans and all that mumbo-jumbo. She supposed that was because she didn't pay attention to the news much: it was mostly just depressing anyway.

Barbara certainly didn't wait for the place to be empty before breaking out her trusty spoon, but it did help make the experience a bit more peaceful. She grinned as she watched the man take his first bite. "Yeah, now just imagine getting to work here," she replied facetiously. "You'll start lookin' less like you and a lot more like me," she added with a hearty laugh. "Glad you like it, though," she said sincerely; again, this seemed like a high compliment coming from the likes of Sean Neville, as opposed to the random folks who came in every so often.

"Right, right," she thought aloud as Sean reminded her of his occupation. That sounded like it could come with its fair share of stress and then some. "So, like..." she tried to think of the way to ask her next question. "Does that mean you got somethin' goin' on, too, or what?" She was interested in knowing if he had some sort of special ability if he worked at the school; she figured that wasn't an impolite thing to inquire about, though the question was intentionally left vague just in case.

[Dr. Sean Neville]

"You're welcome," Sean said, and he was content to leave the matter there. If she requested his help, he would gladly render it. If not, he would learn about her new hire one way or another, through direct visits or scuttlebutt.

Sean chuckled as well and set down his spoon precariously atop a mountain of mint and chocolate. His hands moved quickly to his stomach, covered as they were by his sweater which added another layer of padding. Grasping the sides of his stomach, he said, “It might be a bit late for cautionary example.”

The telepath wouldn’t say that he was in poor condition, and his doctor agreed with him there. But he also was a far cry from Josef’s figure, but that was fine; Sean was proud of his love handles. They brought with them memories of a thousand happy moments and baked goods.

“But I do like it very much.” Hands returned from his stomach to the countertop, his right lifting the spoon once again. “Thank you,” he added, sincerely. He was grateful for the treat and the pick-me-up.

Sean only managed to eat a few more bites before she asked the question. As a teenager, and then later while in college and medical school, he had felt the need to warn people about his telepathy. At first because he had such poor control, and then later because he had felt that others had a right to know, due to lack of exposure to meta humans elsewhere. As he’d aged, the psychiatrist had found more comfort in what he owed others, and no longer mentioned his abilities as a matter of course. At the same time, he did nothing to hide his powers, and if asked, he spoke candidly and at length. As such, without hesitation, he answered, “I do. I’m a telepath.”

A proud one, at that.

[Barbara Robinson]

Barbara snorted. "Oh please, I could fit you in my mouth whole," she retorted with a toothy grin before plunging the spoon into her mouth once more. Boy, was she glad Sean arrived when he did; not that she hadn't been picking at the various cartoons all afternoon, but it was nice to sit down and have a real treat like this. As far as she was concerned, being a bit overweight was a small price to pay for getting to enjoy all this.

She lifted her free hand. "Not at all," she replied, looking down at her dish. She decided then she wouldn't charge him for it. She had enough money, and it was nice to do something for someone you liked. Barb had so few of those that it made it a little more special. Besides, she was in a good mood now.

Barbara didn't know much about those 'super powers' (as far as she was concerned, that was sort of what they were to her), and beyond that she just didn't have much in the way of 'book smarts.' She wasn't bright academically, but she had street smarts and good instincts, which was what had allowed her this modest success in the business world. As it was, she completely misunderstood what telepathy was. "Oh, so you can, like, see my future and all that?" She asked, a bit excited, between bites. "So tell me, when am I gonna make my first million?" She was joking, of course, about that part, but she really did think that was what Sean had meant.

[Dr. Sean Neville]

Sean quirked his eyebrow at her, grinning at the remark. “That sounds like a challenge.” Of course, that was merely part of gentle teasing and conversation; they both knew that no such thing was possible. And even if it was, it wouldn’t happen.

With that, he began to attack his sundae with gusto, eating several large spoonfuls of ice cream, fudge, whipped cream, and brownie. The flavors blended together exquisitely, and he enjoyed himself thoroughly.

But it was a rare person he met who didn’t know the meaning of the word “telepathy.” Not only was this Pilot Ridge, the town with the highest number of meta-humans in the United States, if not North America as a whole, and everyone knew metas if they weren’t also related to one or two or associated with Hammel in some way. But also his power was one with which popular culture and literature seemed obsessed. As a result, he was unused to someone not recognizing his telepathy for what it was, or confusing it with another power.

People often assumed he could do more than he could, but their assumptions bore some similarities.

Quickly, the psychiatrist shook his head. “No, I can’t tell the future at all. I’m a mind-reader.”

He didn’t find that term any more accurate than he had as a boy, since his powers didn’t quite function that way. But it did get the point across.

[Barbara Robinson]

Barbara laughed heartily. She appreciated a man who could take a joke and fire one back; it seemed rare these days that someone a bit older - and that was a phrase she used to describe both of them - could find humor in the world. She joined Sean in enjoying their sundaes, and for a few moments everything was more or less quiet as the two adults amicably gobbled down their desserts.

The brunette had to admit she was a bit embarrassed to be corrected; she wasn't sure she ought to feel that way - it seemed like a big word to her, at least - but she couldn't help but wish she had known the true meaning of the word in the first place. "Oh, oh, I see," she said, nodding her head fervently. "I'm sorry, you'll have to forgive me if I'm not totally up on the lingo," she added, using her spoon to scrape down the sides of the dish that she had rather quickly polished off. "It's like... okay, so I know what Hammel is and all that, ya know? Like, I'm not totally stupid," she explained. "But it's like, I don't know, I get that Pilot Ridge is chock full o' superheroes and all that jazz, but I guess I just don't pay that close attention to that stuff. Everyone's got their own stuff, ya know?" She shrugged her shoulders. "I mean, it's cool though, ya know? Not for me, but it's cool." What exactly she was talking about was unclear, but she did think it was interesting that people had... special little characteristics.

"So, like, how does it work?" She asked, changing the subject to Sean's abilities specifically. "Like, do you just hear what people are thinking whether you wanna or not, or do you have to kinda like... climb inside?" She did find that fairly fascinating. "I mean, not to pry or anything. But it's not every day someone who can read minds walks into your store." Or maybe it was and she just didn't know. Whatever.

[Dr. Sean Neville]

Sean shook his head. While he was used to a certain amount of misconceptions about meta-humans (and he did what he could to promote awareness and positive images), there were certain myths that he needed to dispel. Near the top of that list was the idea that meta-human abilities endorsed vigilantism.

One foray into that, as necessary as it had been, was more than enough for a lifetime.

“There aren’t superheroes,” he said. “That’s part of the entertainment industry. Meta-human powers are a lot mellower, and we’re all townspeople too,” he added with a smile to show that he wasn’t upset, but merely wanted to make that point.

He’d had one too many arguments with Kathleen and Colin to take comfort in that notion.

“And it’s fine; I don’t expect everyone to know everything about abilities. Back when I was in college, I was the only meta that any of my friends had ever met.” That had been an interesting conversation the first few times, and then he had learned to prattle it off by rote.

He took another few bites of his sundae before launching into that speech. “It isn’t prying.” Rather, it wasn’t prying that he found particularly invasive, since he was fine to answer questions about his powers to people he considered friends.

Turning to make eye contact and show that she had his full attention, he began to explain. “It’s like another sense, so I hear basically all of the time. I can tune in and out if I want to.” And the ability to create mental shields was the most important lesson he had learned at Hammel. “If I focus, I can learn a lot more. But I don’t go out of my way to listen to other people in public; people are entitled to their privacy.”

That was his necessary disclaimer.

[Barbara Robinson]

Barbara nodded her head fervently as Sean corrected her. She knew superheroes weren't real; she had merely been joking, or rather, over-simplifying the existence of meta-humans to associate them with the Hollywoodified version of the same idea. "Right, right, sorry, sorry," she said, as she turned from the bar to place her dish on the sill of the window connecting the bar to the kitchen; the kitchen was only in use during the lunch hour, and the cook who worked during that time had gone home by now. She would clean the dishes later. "Didn't mean to offend." She could tell he wasn't actually offended; she just didn't want there to be any sort of messy misunderstanding. "I just meant folks who are a little special, ya know?" Hopefully that wording was a bit better.

She listened with genuine interest as Sean described his ability. "Oh, that must've been a pain then," she replied, imagining a time when perhaps he couldn't control what he heard and when. Though, heck, maybe he could always do that; she didn't really know. "So, like, when do you use it?" She thought that was an interesting question due to the fact that he was a psychiatrist of some kind, and she imagined there were points at which listening to someone's thoughts would get to the truth of the matter more readily than trying to pry it out of them little by little. By now she was leaning fully on the bar, quite interested in this conversation.