Road trip...? (Joshua)

[Karina Ford]

Minnie Johnson was a woman of approximately fifty years, who made it her business to know everybody else’s business. When she spoke, her sentences were peppered with pet names and excitement. She had introduced herself to Karina during Karina’s first visit to her sister at the Coombe Medical Centre, and – having caught her during a moment of weakness – had extracted personal details from her that Karina now wished she had never given. The woman was a nightmare. Somehow, she had crowned herself queen of the group of people in the Pilot Ridge area who had relatives with any kind of mental illness. If she knew about them, she had found them.

The phone call Karina had received last week had gone something like this:

‘Karina, honey, can you do me a favour?’
‘I…’
‘Thank you so much! You know the upcoming meeting about events for Mental Illness Awareness Week? Of course you do. You are coming, aren’t you?’
‘Well…’
‘Excellent! I knew you would be. Anyway, it’s out of town, and you know how bad the roads are at the moment. You drive, don’t you? Well, there’s someone who needs a lift.’
‘Oh…’
‘Don’t worry, honey, he’s a real catch. Lawyer. You’ll get on just fine! So you’ll pick him up? Excellent!’

Not having the chance to get a word in, Karina had not had the chance to refuse. Which was how she found herself leaning against her car on a suburban street, looking around in the vain hope of seeing Joshua Bernstein. The problem was, finding him was proving to be a rather difficult task. When she thought about it, she realised that she knew just three things about him:

1. Minnie considered him to be conventionally handsome (much of the rest of the conversation had been made of his looks)
2. He was a lawyer.
3. He couldn’t drive.

From his last name she could guess that he was probably Jewish, but that was useless when it came to working out what he looked like. Equally, she could guess from Minnie’s comments about him being a ‘catch’ that he was probably single (though Minnie’s strength did not lie in finding out the subtleties of mankind: he was probably gay, or had a wife he had just happened never to mention). Again, not exactly the kind of thing she could use, unless she examined the left hand of every passing man to see if he was wearing a wedding ring.

This being the sum total of her information, Karina had to admit that she had no idea who she was looking for. She only hoped he had been given more information than she had. Karina checked her watch: 6pm. The meeting was at seven. This was the time Minnie had told her to wait for Mr Bernstein (whoever he may be) to appear from one of the houses.

And they were nice houses. Very much out of her price bracket.

Pulling her scarf closer around her neck to ward off the cold, Karina crossed her arms tightly across her chest to keep some of the warmth inside her coat. This was the right street. All she could do now was wait.

For a handsome, rich, non-driving lawyer. Great.

[Joshua Bernstein]

Josh would not have considered Alzheimer's a mental illness, but apparently Minnie did as she made a point of keeping him up-to-date on the news pertaining to the mentally ill. He didn't particularly mind this -- in fact, he quite appreciated having a cause to attach himself to -- but he could have done without her attempts to set him up with the young women she knew. Or any women. In fact, he wouldn't have appreciated it if she'd attempted to set him up with any men, either, but she seemed to share his mother's blindness on that issue.

He had a sneaking suspicion that she had hoped he would take to his chauffer, but as he couldn't drive and was reluctant to continue his habit of bicycling in the snow thanks to his recent bout with the flu, he had accepted the offer graciously. One car ride (well, two if you counted each way separately) couldn't be taken as interest.

He flicked off the lights, shutting the door behind him as he stepped out and onto his sidewalk, snow crunching under his feet. He wished that the snow would hurry up and melt; it was getting rather out of hand, in his opinion, and besides, khaki pants and business shirts made up almost the entirety of his wardrobe and they were not exactly winter clothing. Even with coat and scarf he felt decidedly frozen.

He trudged down the sidewalk to his driveway, scanning the street for anyside of this Karina. Several of his neighbors chose to park cars on the side of the road, either because they had too many of them (this was especially true of families with teenagers) or because they preferred to use their garages as extra storage space; they weren't supposed to do this but the HOA was functionally apathetic to the obstacle course this created unless complaints were lodged, at which point they stuck reminders in people's mailboxes. Then people would park in their driveways and garages for a few days to show they'd received the notice, but they always went right back to parking in the streets before too long.

Josh had no car, so the obstacle course wasn't a problem for him (he generally just walked his bicycle around the cars on the side nearest the lawn until he hit the open road) but when he was supposed to be waiting for someone to pick him up it was a problem; what if she parked at the wrong house? He didn't make a habit of memorizing his neighbors' cars!

But luck was with him and as soon as he reached the curb he saw a car with a young woman standing outside, huddling for warmth. He didn't recognize her car, which meant nothing, but more importantly he didn't recognize her; he at least knew most of his neighbors by sight.

"Karina Ford?" He greeted her, hoping his guess was correct. "Joshua Bernstein. Very considerate of you to offer me a ride."

[Karina Ford]

Ever since Josh had opened and closed his front door, Karina had been watching him from the corner of her eye. Well, it wasn’t exactly polite to stare, after all – even if most of the people who looked out of their windows and saw her weren’t exactly taking any trouble to hide the fact that they were looking at her with deep suspicion. So she eyed Joshua clandestinely, hazarding a small smile when he started to approach her.

When he spoke to her, the rather awkward smile turned to one of recognition. ‘Yes,’ she confirmed her name, offering Josh her gloved right hand to shake. Karina was not made of stone: she couldn’t help noticing that Joshua Bernstein was every bit as attractive as Minnie had implied that he was. Fortunately for her sanity, she had never been one to be too distracted by a pretty face. She shook his hand warmly before releasing it. ‘I’m not sure I ever offered,’ she replied, a rather mischievous smile dismissing any sting which could have been perceived in her words. ‘Have you ever tried to say ‘no’ to Minnie Johnson?’

Her car was still unlocked, and she opened her door. ‘Hop in,’ she told Josh, pulling her handbag from the passenger seat and depositing it in the back. Her car was second-hand, and very obviously so: she refused to feel ashamed of it, but she couldn’t help wishing that she had something slightly more presentable. It was clean, though, despite the fraying fabric on the seats and the scratches on the paintwork. It smelled clean, and it looked clean. Meagre, but presentable. Apart from the faulty heating (Karina preferred to think of it as ‘surprise’ heating: she was surprised when it worked) and a CD player she couldn’t quite seem to get the hang of, it was fine.

Oh, and one of the interior lights wasn’t working.

Luckily, it was on the passenger side – the seat Karina never sat in. She gave Josh an apologetic look as he seated himself, and turned the key halfway. The radio came on, quietly tuned to a classical station, and to her surprise a blowing noise could be heard from the fans. Pleased, Karina smiled. ‘The heating hardly ever works,’ she told Josh, giving the dashboard a pat. ‘Actually, that’s a lie. It almost never works.’ And now she was prattling. Karina was trying to work out if she felt this awkward when she met any new person, or if it only extended to the rich, handsome, older ones.

Probably the latter. Working in a shop does not allow a person to be ignorant of the way society views them, and there was something about the way Josh carried himself which gave her the feeling he was a couple of miles up the class scale from where she was. But at least she had the satisfaction of knowing that, for whatever reason, he was in her car. This was her turf. The radio was playing something violin-based (vague enough that her first guess would be Philip Glass, but she couldn’t be sure), and it soothed her. Satisfied that the heating was on, Karina shrugged off her coat and did up her seatbelt. When Josh had done the same, she started the engine and pulled away from the kerb. ‘So – uh – Minnie said you’re a lawyer. How’s business?’

In the dim light thrown by the street lamps, Karina had to admit: he did look like a lawyer.

[Joshua Bernstein]

"I suppose she isn't particularly good at taking no for an answer," Josh conceded. He supposed it would be more difficult for Karina; being closer to Minnie's own age gave him an advantage she didn't have.

"Thank you," He slid into the passenger side, peering about with interest. Her car reminded him a bit of Sean's van; it was probably every bit as old, which meant she couldn't be the first owner unless she was older than she looked. "Your car has...character." He informed her, "I feel like I'm in college again." If her car was similar to Sean's van in more than looks then it would last forever; he was fairly certain that the hippie van was the cockroach of the car kingdom: nothing could destroy that thing, not even his mother backing into it with her convertible.

"My bicycle doesn't come with heating at all, so you're one better than me already." Spring couldn't come soon enough; he hated having to rely on other people for transportation all the time. Perhaps he ought to see if Sean was willing to resume those driving lessons once the snow and ice had finally been dispelled.

His nostalgia ended with the sopporific music wafting from the radio; he was sure nothing so classy had ever been played in the van. Paul Simon might be considered ancient history by people of Karina's generation, but he was a far cry from violin concertos. "I know you young people think people my age only listen to Bach and Rachmaninoff, but I assure you they had rock music when I was your age." He'd come to expect people to assume that, because he'd lived half a century, he would prefer music that was older than he was. Even his nieces and nephews occasionally reacted as though nobody over the age of 30 listened to popular music. They shouldn't, not when their grandmother had every Tori Amos album known to man and his sister played Rocky Horror Picture Show music non-stop, but apparently they always seemed to forget this was the case when dealing with anyone outside of the family.

"Business is slow," Josh sighed, "Pilot Ridge seemed like the perfect place for a civil rights battle, but hardly anyone here is the least bit interested in litigation for their rights. And then I have to share the ones that do with Blue and Gold. Not that they aren't a good firm." There just wasn't enough work to go around for both him and Cobalt, not in that particular area of the law. "I'm beginning to think I should branch out, there's always a need for personal injury attorneys. Or maybe real estate law, Jimmy Murdock does real estate law and he never lacks for clients, although I think half of them think he's a cross between a therapist and a priest and I'm not sure I could handle having people ask me for advice about their personal life." He would leave that to Sean. "Maybe I should do divorce, there are always people getting divorced, even in small towns."

Civil Rights Law was his passion, but it wasn't paying the bills quite like he needed it to, not when his parents' retirement community was eating away at so much of his savings.

"So what do you do for a living?" If he had to hazard a guess he'd say Hammel; as Cobalt had once observed, everyone and their brother worked for the Institute.

[Karina Ford]

’”Character” is right,’ Karina told Josh with wry chuckle. ‘Character’ was something that her little car had in spades. If he was liking it to vehicles he had known in the…70s? (was it 70s? Karina had never been very good at mental arithmetic), then it probably had a great deal more ‘character’ than she had given it credit for. She had asked few questions when she had bought it, back in Chicago, and as a result had no real idea of how old it was. In a way, she rather liked not knowing. This way, she could put all its’ failings down to advanced age.

The music changed: more Philip Glass, and this time one she recognised – and liked. Violin Concerto No. I. Josh’s comment about music confused her for a moment, though she tried not to let it show. Was he hinting to her that she should change the radio station? Did he think she had only tuned it to Classic FM because she expected a 50-year-old lawyer to be a classical music enthusiast? Karina gave Josh a sidelong look, one eyebrow raised. ‘Was that a hint?’ she asked, a small smile twitching at her lips. ‘You must have a low opinion of ‘young people’ if you don’t think we ever listen to classical music of our own free will.’ If Josh was used to people assuming he wouldn’t listen to modern music, Karina was used to general looks of surprise when she chose violin concertos over rock songs. She would listen to both, but had to be in the right mood for something with drums and guitars before she would listen to it. That was one nice thing about living alone: she could listen to whatever she wanted without Jenna complaining.

‘I’m surprised you thought Pilot Ridge would be up for a fight,’ she commented. She didn’t sound harsh, just interested. ‘I haven’t lived here long, but it seems like a fairly conflict-free place. Even the meta-humans are much better tolerated here than they can be elsewhere.’ It was never officially recognised, but where Karina came from it was pretty difficult for metas to enter employment. There was just too much distrust.

At his mention of becoming a divorce attorney, Karina wrinkled her nose in distaste. ‘Surely divorce would be even worse than property?’ she asked, brushing a stray tendril of hair out of her eyes. ‘All those people trying to get one up on each other – who gets what, who started what. It wouldn’t exactly make you want to get out of bed in the morning.’ Karina had met a couple of lawyers during her lifetime, but they had mostly been to do with her sister’s trust fund. They had been serene, well-paid, and almost insufferably smug. Josh was a nice change – and it would be a shame if he turned into one of them. But, such was the way of the world: people needed money, and sometimes the best way to earn money was to do something you really didn’t like doing. Sad, really.

‘I work in a shop in town – The Music Room.’ There was something about Josh (she couldn’t quite put her finger on it – it was just a general attitude), which made her want to hide her cleaning job, but Karina refused to be ashamed of what she did for a living. ‘It’s only part-time, though, so I have a cleaning job as well.’

[Joshua Bernstein]

"I haven't met too many who would." Maybe his assumption hadn't been fair, but it was born of personal experience. Certainly his nieces and nephews never listened to any music composed before 1950, and even that was a bit of a stretch. "But I suppose my experience with the current generation is a bit limited." He wondered if any of Sean's students listened to classical music. Hoodies and converse sneakers and Beethoven seemed a bizarre mix, but he hadn't been young in a few years....or a few decades.

He frowned out the window at the commentary on Pilot Ridge. Conflict-free was far from the truth, but he wasn't about to disabuse Karina of that inaccurate observation. For one thing, it wasn't his place to spread rumors of the attack last summer, not when he'd been told in confidence, and for another he'd done his best to keep his own run-in with the local hate group from circulating. He hadn't even told his mother anything beyond he'd been mugged, so he certainly wasn't going to tell a woman he'd just met anything. Unfortunately, he doubted these were the only two incidences, but it was difficult to fight violence using the legal system when nobody would come forward. That included himself, but he felt he had good reason not to say anything. He really didn't want a backlash against his meta friends, and....well, there was always retaliation. He never wanted to see the twins again, even shackled in court.

"Oh, divorce would be terrible." He agreed. Simply breaking up, without having to void a legal contract, was painful enough. "Divorce makes people nuts. But people need the help, right? Better to help them navigate the legal system as quickly as possible." And get paid for it. That was the main issue, right there. He much preferred civil rights, because he always felt he was on the right side and his involvement was for justice; divorce was more difficult. Sometimes there wasn't a right side.

"The Music Room. I don't believe I've been there." He didn't shop much and when he did it was largely the necessities -- food for himself, food for Mopsey, toiletries, beer, cigarettes -- and not music. Of course, now that several of his friends had gently pushed him in the direction of jazz perhaps he ought to stop by. "Do you sell albums or instruments?"

The mention of a cleaning job caused him to cut his gaze over to her in concern. Oh. So perhaps the car was less about sentiment and more about afford-ability. Poor girl. A part-time retail worker and a cleaning lady. Maybe she was working in between college courses; there were online courses one could take that were legitimate. At least, he thought there were. But maybe she couldn't afford college and was stuck in those jobs.

Unfortunately, ever since his argument with Cobalt over Riley's landscaping job the smaller attorney had been acting as his conscience, his voice mentally popping up at the least convenient times. Like right now. You know what you sound like? You sound like a douche. Just because he thought it was distressing that a young woman was forced to work menial labor!

He tried not to look too pained by her admission. "So ah by cleaning job do you mean you run a cleaning business or you just work with one?"