Nothing Is An Accident (Felicia)

[Adam Trumper]

Midtown was quickly becoming a familiar area for Adam Trumper. Chicago to Midtown was a big change, for instance Chicago was much bigger. Midtown wasn't even close to being the size of Chicago. But they each had the same characters roaming the streets, only Midtown seemed to be worse. Adam did fit in, but then he didn't. He was recovering from his addiction, but he used to be one of them. Temptation struck him every time he turned a corner, the need for his vice burned through his veins. It took all of his strength to turn it down. Maybe that's why he was exhausted all of the time.

A cool breeze blew by, it rustled some leaves, and made his long hair come off of his shoulders. He loved this weather, and then he hated it. He wasn't very good at deciding what he liked and what he didn't like, it was almost easy to please him because of that. He ignored the chill that was sweeping over him, it was his own fault for standing out in the rain. Adam was on his way home from playing for that day, it was the only way he could make a living.

His hand gripped the case of his guitar tighter, it was the only thing he had that could give him an income. Walking the streets of Midtown at night wasn't exactly the smartest thing to do, even if he could defend himself. Adam was a gentle, loving person, he used to be muscular and he was tough. But he only defended himself, and his loved ones, when possible. He didn't see a point walking around fighting everyone who came across his path. It was useless.

Adam enjoyed times like these, and then he hated them. There he went again with the lack of ability to decide. The quiet times when he was alone haunted him, they mocked him. And then he enjoyed them because he was by himself. He could remember a time when he loved having someone by his side, someone that he could just lean over and give her a hug. And everything would be alright. Times were different now, there was no one with him anymore and he was left to fend for himself.

He wondered if her death was on purpose, he wondered that many times. He knew that she didn't like to live with pain in her life, and he knew that she believed that nothing was an accident. The pain of her death was getting to him again, the loss hurt him, he could barely even stand thinking about her...he couldn't say her name. Pain was all he felt now.

[Felicia Barrientos]

Felicia hated this place. Hated it. Really, she did. yes, she knew it was the Land of Promise, of opportunity, the golden ticket into a whole new life. The way Papá talked, Felicia half-expected God Himself to come thundering through the streets, a chorus of angels to descend from on high in a brilliant flash of power and glory. But, as she surveyed her surroundings, she saw no blinding light, heard no singing, felt no glorious beauty, and was still waiting for some revelation to come to her. She kicked at a rock, watching it skitter across the cobblestones, as she let out a cackle, listening with satisfaction to the sharp edge of her voice slicing into the dark. Oh, she couldn't believe she was here, in La Ciudad de Nueva York--the gateway, the jewel, the inconceivable opportunity. The unbelievable nightmare.

Papá would say she hadn't tried, hadn't given this place a chance, and if she would only swallow her bitterness, she could begin to open her eyes to a whole new way of life. She was too smart for that kind of talk; she'd watched him fail, and it was failure by all standards, unless, of course, he counted abandoning his home, language, culture, and appearance as some kind of ridiculous progress. Knowing him, he probably did, and she'd had enough of his idiotic ideas, which is why she was here. She hated Los Estados.

Midtown gave her a rush. Word on the street seemed to indicate that she should be afraid, but Felicia had never been one to worry, and she certainly didn't think things through. Besides, who was to say she wouldn't welcome death? She liked the feel of air in her lungs and a breeze on her face, but the thought of a little adventure appealed to her immensely, and she wasn't sure she would mind paying even the highest price for some escape from this banal hell that had become her life. That's why she liked Midtown...or at least, didn't despise it like she did the rest of the city. The people here were despicable, and Felicia liked despicable. There was nothing to hide.

She straightened her cap, reminded of the shorn hair hidden beneath. So there was something to hide. Felicia narrowed her eyes at the thought; it was at times like these that she resented her womanhood, and she had to admit that the only thing she was really afraid of was that her true identity would be revealed. She took great pains to keep her face smudged (which wasn't hard), her clothes baggy, and her cap snugly in place at all times, but she wasn't sure how long she could keep up the act. The guys at Midtown were pretty quick, especially Mike. She'd only actually seen him once, but from the looks of him, she doubted there was much that he didn't catch. And what really alarmed her was the way she'd felt when he was around...more like a girl than she'd felt in a long time. Well, she would just have to keep a reign on her thoughts. It was that easy.

Suddenly restless, Felicia quickened her pace. She had nowhere to go, no one to meet, nothing to do. The street was, for the most part, deserted, save for a few straggling wanderers here and there. She observed them from a distance, noticing that one swung the case of a guitar as he walked slowly along his way, head down, seemingly dejected. A smirk flickered across her face and, unable to resist, she laughed again. Perhaps it was out of contempt for something she couldn't place, or maybe she just enjoyed disrupting stillness. She didn't know, didn't care. Still laughing hysterically, Felicia dropped to the street and sat cross-legged on the curb.

[Adam Trumper]

Adam was continuing his walk when he heard an unfamiliar noise. Laughter. Who would be laughing in Midtown? The sounds in Midtown were mainly leaves rustling and sometimes footsteps. There were people around every corner, watching, waiting for someone to drop money. Women roamed corners, watching for men they could ask for. Children didn't exist in the small neighborhood, if there were children there they were the children of whores.

He turned around, looking for who was laughing. His grip tightened on his guitar case, if someone took that then they took his life. His heart began to beat, yes, he was scared. Adam took a shaky breath, it was probably nothing. Just a cat, there were a lot of cats in Midtown, and they made a lot of noise. Half of the noises he heard at night were cats knocking down things.

What if it wasn't a cat? What if someone was actually there? He took a few steps and then turned around, what to do in a situation like this? He figured it was nothing and put his free hand in his pocket, he sighed. Paranoia was a curse. His green eyes spied someone across the street, he turned to look at whatever it was. It was too dark to notice, his eyes desperately tried to make out a figure. "Who's there?" He didn't even realize he said something until afterwards. His knuckles turned white from clasping the case, his breathing became uneven. Was the person a dealer? No..that would be too much, too much to bear. He could only hope it wasn't.

[Felicia Barrientos]

Felicia didn't even know what she found so hysterically funny. She didn't even know if she found the source of her laughter (whatever it may be) comical or extremely terrible. She'd gotten into the habit of doing that lately: finding things that were clearly awful to be surprisingly hilarious. The unbelievable satire that was her life would have made her want to drop, laughing, to the ground, if the fact didn't always remain that it was real.

She wasn't in much of a caring mood at present, and as she continued to watch the dark figure across the street, she felt no sympathy. Maybe a decent person would have seen such a dejected-looking figure as an opportunity to extend some kind of kindness, but not Felicia Barrientos. Instead, as she watched the man roam about the street, clutching his guitar case, she felt nothing. Just another person, another unfortunate soul condemned to lead a life of poverty and loneliness. Perhaps if she had shared that feeling of loneliness, her heart would have softened, but Felicia knew she needed no one, had trained herself to need no one. This guy should be able to wise up and do the same.

Suddenly, a voice broke into her thoughts, one that almost certainly belonged to the man with the guitar.

"Who's there?"

His voice sounded shaky, unsure, fearful. Felicia snorted. Sure, it was Midtown, but he was a man, and as far as she knew, he hadn't done anything to anyone, except disrupt her little pity party. Sighing, Felicia got to her feet and straightened her cap, scraping one boot against the curb. Barely having to think about her manly gait anymore, Felicia sauntered out from the shadows, grimacing as the moonlight flooded her face. Then, letting a half smile form on her lips, she rolled her eyes involuntarily as she stopped right in front of the man with the guitar.

"Tranquila, mae. Tranquila..."

[Adam Trumper]

"Tranquila, mae. Tranquila..."

Adam's eyebrows raises as he saw a figure step into the light. It was still too dark to tell if the figure was male or female. The figure said something, it sounded foreign, it had to be foreign. He didn't have any knowledge with any other language. Slowly he shook his head, "I don't understand." He said. Now he felt like an idiot, it was interesting to see all of the different cultures, but he was never approached. Adam didn't like feeling confused and it humiliated him when he had to say he didn't know what they were talking about. It was a bad feeling.

He looked the shadowy figure over, sometimes in their body language you could tell if the person was male or female. It was still to dark to tell, and the figure wasn't giving him any hints. The figure was shorter than him, by how much, he couldn't tell. And they wore a hat, he knew that because of the shadow the hat gave off. He licked his lips, he wasn't about to ask the sex of this person. Especially if they spoke a completely different language than him.

The figure came closer, and was standing right in front of him. He was able to see them better now, maybe if they spoke again he could tell if they were male or female. Voices were easier to identify than faces, that's how it was for him.

((Ack, sorry its so short!))

[Felicia Barrientos]

Felicia hadn't wanted to see anyone. The dark streets of Midtown were company enough on a night like tonight, and although she knew danger was everywhere, she couldn't help but feel excited thinking of what could be lurking around the corner. Sometimes, on nights like these, she even dared to let a sliver of hope take root...maybe the next silhouette she saw would come striding down the cobblestoned street, whistling softly into the cold air, and burst into a loud guffaw at the sight of her face, his familiar laugh ringing loud and clear, and his warm brown eyes dancing in spite of everything. Things would be different if Ale were here.

But the man who stood in the street before her wasn't her brother, nor was he Mike Greaser, or anyone else she even remotely desired to see. In fact, she wasn't sure what it was that had prompted her to get his attention in the first place. She was beginning to regret it. On the other hand, she had nowhere else to be, nothing better to do, no one different to talk to, and wandering the streets alone was beginning to get quite banal. If whoever this guy was proved to be completely uninteresting, she decided she could always fake incomprehension and babble away in her own tongue.

English came easily to her, but she hated the sound. She hated how difficult it was to disguise the feminine quality in her voice while speaking in a language that was, until recently, so unfamiliar to her. She would use her native tongue, and if this man turned out to be more interesting than he looked, perhaps she would attempt actual communication.

"¡Chist! Dije 'tranquila'. Hay nadie de quien usted necesita temerse, ¿ok? ¿Y que haces andando las calles durante la noche?"

[Adam Trumper]

"¡Chist! Dije 'tranquila'. Hay nadie de quien usted necesita temerse, ¿ok? ¿Y que haces andando las calles durante la noche?"

Adam studied the figure in front of him, the tone, the sound quality the figure spoke with sounded like they were female. The voice had a feminine quality about it, and the language she spoke in sounded beautiful. It was almost like a song, the intervals, the round tones, and how the 'r's were rolled captivated him. He blinked, unsure of what she had said.

He licked his lips and shook his head again. "I don't understand." He repeated, maybe she was the one who didn't understand English. He felt almost embarrassed, he didn't know the beautiful language she spoke. And English sounded stupid now to him. That was the only language he knew, and it seemed boring, and ugly now.

New York was interesting in the way that everywhere you turned there was a new person, a new sight, a new feeling, a new emotion. Everything about New York was well...new. That's why he came here, he was beginning to feel like a new man. He was trying to leave the past behind, and he was trying to move forward. It was hard on days, especially days like this, but he made progress everyday.

It was silent between him and the girl, he felt awkward, he felt the need to say something. "I'm Adam..." He said.

[Felicia Barrientos]

Exactly as she'd suspected. It was difficult to hold back a grin at the man's obvious lack of comprehension, and she watched as he licked his lips, an odd expression coming over him.

"I don't understand."

Of course he didn't. No one did. No one here in this wretched, overrated city of New York understood, and although this ignorance irritated her, Felicia was glad of it. Before he'd disappeared, she and Ale had enjoyed countless hours of fun tormenting the nervous and intimidated grocers, always so laughably polite and concerned. But Alejandro wasn't here now, and Felicia almost felt a pang of remorse as she studied the poor, weary man in front of her. He seemed distant, as though his thoughts wandered a million miles away and hadn't been anchored in the present any time recently. But who was she to care? She tossed the thought away defiantly.

"I'm Adam..."

Well, that was something. She hadn't quite expected him to introduce himself. In fact, from the disheveled look about him, she was almost surprised he knew his name. If there was one thing she'd learned, it was that the folks of Midtown were a ragged bunch. Felicia knew she was no exception, knew that the dirty clothes that hid her body weren't a bad reflection of the person inside, but she wasn't the worst of them. This man, however, seemed oddly out of place. She wanted to know why.

Cocking her head as if in confusion, Felicia furrowed her brow, careful not to let her eyelids flutter, something she'd found ruined her masculine image. Finally, widening her stance and rocking back onto her heels, she thrust her hands deep into her pockets. Gesturing her head toward the man, she spoke huskily, "¿Su nombre es Adam?"

Then, not waiting for a reply, she thumped a grimy hand to her chest, "Y yo...me llamo Ale."

[Adam Trumper]

Adam watched the person in front of him, he first thought she was a girl, but now after watching their mannerisms and they way that the person stood and talked. He was now thinking that they were a man. He tilted his head to the side slightly, as if he could get a better look at this person. They had both masculine and feminine traits, it was bothering him. He wanted to have a straight answer. Was this person male or female?

He didn't like confusion, and this person was confusing him. Life was confusing enough for him, why make it more confusing? He blinked, trying to get his eyes adjusted to the dark enough so he could see this person better. Oh well, it was no use. Maybe the person in front of him was just a feminine man, it could happen. Or they could be a masculine female, or a girl that dressed up in boys clothes. Why they did that, Adam had no idea. He preferred girls who kept their femininity, that was his own personal preference, though. Different people liked different things.

"¿Su nombre es Adam?"

A frown came up upon his strong features. Did they just not understand that he didn't know what they were saying? He heard his name in the mixture of the words, what were they saying about him? With his luck the person was probably making fun of him to his face, and laughing at how ignorant he was. He nodded slowly, "Yes..?" He asked, questioning and confusion lingered in his voice.

"Y yo...me llamo Ale."

Since he introduced himself, maybe they were saying their name. Me llamo Ale, he thought no parent would name their child "Me" or "LLamo", so he decided that their name was Ale. "Ale..." He said, trailing off. He didn't know what to say next, it was clear the two didn't speak the other's language. Why bother trying to have a conversation?

[Felicia Barrientos]

He was studying her. He was studying her, and Felicia didn't like it. His scrutinizing eyes seemed too knowing, too suspicious, and although the thought of being found out wasn't the end of the world, being kicked out of Midtown would be. But this man wasn't a newsboy, was he? She glanced down at his guitar, took in his rumpled attire. She could only hope not. If Mike found out...

No, she wouldn't consider it. The man was some kind of entertainer, nothing more, and Mike would not find out. She'd planned this too well, spent too many nights devising the perfect scheme, carefully placing each detail where she needed it in order to pull everything off. She'd fooled the boys of Midtown, hadn't she? A smug feeling of satisfaction returned to her at the thought, and she turned back to the man in front of her, sizing him up as she debated her next move.

By the expression on his face, it seemed to Felicia that unless she began to throw in bits of words he could comprehend, her new friend would soon be leaving. She felt a bit irritated at herself for the disappointment that came with this thought, but struck it down, attempting to justify the feeling by concentrating on the fact that she still had nothing better to do. Showing the hint of a lopside smile, she spoke.

"Sip, Ale. You've got it!"

[Adam Trumper]

"Sip, Ale. You've got it!"

Adam's eyebrows rose, so they can speak English. Well, that was a relief, now he didn't have to make an idiot out of himself just to see if the two could have a conversation. He studied the figure in front of him, the person's name was Ale. That's what he just said, so Adam guessed that the person was male. Not female.

He felt better now that he knew the gender of the person, it wasn't as confusing for him. A little less awkward, maybe. Its been six month since the incident, and he still felt odd and out of place around women. He still felt that...she was the one for him, and no one could replace her. Plus, he felt like he couldn't trust women. It was a strange feeling, and he hated it, but what could he do?

"So, Ale..." He said, trying to make some sort of a conversation. Might as well, right? "You live around here?" He asked, it probably was a stupid question. Of course it was, why else would someone be in Midtown unless they lived there. Or they could be working for Mike, his neighbor. He still remembered the night where he broke down in front of him, and told him everything. Mike told him a few things that he had people working for him, things like that. That's why there were more shady characters than normal roaming around their building.

[Felicia Barrientos]

Oh, she'd really have him confused now. She wasn't sure about his knowledge of Spanish names, but from the looks of him, she guessed his intelligence wasn't exactly meager. The disheveled, eccentric types always seemed to be the most intuitive. The thought set her on edge again. In this case, his intelligence could prove helpful if he allowed his knowledge to override his instinct. If. And if not, things could end badly.

"So, Ale...You live around here?"

Felicia nearly laughed; it was the worst attempt at small talk she'd heard in quite awhile, although she had to admit that hers hadn't been much better. The Spanish, she thought, justifying herself, had spiced it up. English was just so vulgar-sounding. Still, she'd given away a portion of her secret, and it wasn't going to work to feign incomprehension any longer.

"I guess...that you could say that. Más como existir..." She trailed off, letting her lips curl into a snarl. Suddenly, the night did not seem so glorious, and she thought bitterly of the dirty cobblestones, the putrid air, and the grimy masses of low-life people roaming the streets.

"I try to live. I see you do, too. The night is alive, you know."

She hoped she had not said too much, but by now, she was almost speaking to herself. She looked at him curiously, glancing questioningly at his guitar, and wondered what had brought him to this wretched place.

[Adam Trumper]

"I guess...that you could say that. Más como existir..."

Adam nodded, "It was a stupid question," He admitted, "Who else would come here unless they had a good reason?" He asked with a shrug. It was the truth, the majority of the people in Midtown were either shady, or they had something to hide. The only women around the place were whores, and the only children were the children of whores.

"I try to live. I see you do, too. The night is alive, you know."

He stared questioningly at him, what did he mean? Could he see right through him? Adam was speechless, and confused by his statement. The night is alive, well he knew that. It was alive with what he didn't want to be, it was alive with memoirs of his past. He couldn't go back, even though he wanted to. He couldn't. There was a reason why he left his family and friends without warning. And he couldn't go back to it.

Adam kept his gaze fixed on Ale. "What do you mean?" He asked. He bit his lower lip, temptation was a hard thing, it was definitely something he struggled with. Just knowing that they sold the things he used to be addicted to, and what killed the love of his life bothered him. He knew that there were so many people just like him, people who had a dream, dreams that were becoming ruined because of that. It almost made him sick.

"The night is alive with what I don't want to be." He said, barely even recognizing the sound of his own voice.

[Felicia Barrientos]

"What do you mean?"

The man, Adam, seemed perplexed. Felicia wondered why. Couldn't he see what the night and the darkness held? That was the one reason she liked Midtown, or at least tolerated it. Everyone had something to hide, no one was who they seemed. And, although it was common knowledge to all its inhabitants, the darkness helped to cover that. It suited her well. The night was alive.

"The night is alive with what I don't want to be."

Ah, so that was it. That was where they differed. It may have begun differently, but at this point in time, Felicia had no strivings for goodness left. The world was bitter, she was bitter, and she couldn't care less. She had her fun, to be sure, but it certainly did not include much that could classify as 'pleasant'. She'd grown to appreciate her own dark sense of humor.

She drew her mouth into a pucker, studying him. He seemed distant, still. Somehow. She'd thought the sudden change of language would have shaken him up, but apparently she had supposed wrong. No matter.

"Mm, sip. La oscuridad nos hace hacer las cosas que no queremos hacer, a veces nos da las cosas que no queremos tener."

She raised her eyebrows meaningfully.

[Adam Trumper]

Adam saw Ale look him over, he didn't like it. He didn't like the feeling of someone judging him when he was standing right there. He clenched his jaw and frowned, and his fist tightened around the guitar case. He wanted to just walk away, he wanted to walk away and go home, but something was almost forcing him to stay. It was something inside of him basically telling him to stay put. He didn't have a choice but to obey, it was a war inside of him, and he hated it.

"Mm, sip. La oscuridad nos hace hacer las cosas que no queremos hacer, a veces nos da las cosas que no queremos tener."

He bit his lower lip in frustration. Obviously Ale didn't understand that Adam couldn't speak whatever language he spoke. He didn't have a clue to what he just said, and Adam hated that. He hated feeling clueless and helpless, he didn't like asking for help, and he didn't like to say that he was confused. It was his pride, the small amount of pride he had left.

"I don't understand." He said slowly, maybe if he said it slower the other man would catch on and possibly understand that Adam didn't have a clue to what he just said. He was feeling helpless, and he hated that. He almost always felt helpless, and he didn't know what to do about it.