Chapter Two

Grand Gulliver

Digging around her room, Diantha did her best to ignore the snickering coming from her doorway. "Just another minute, please. I know it's around here, somewhere."

One of these days she wouldn't be late for their dinner dates. Their dinner date at the beginning of the school year she had been late getting ready. Now, two dinners later, she was still running late for a reason that could have been avoided. Sometimes he was just too patient of a man.

Augustine laughed, walking away from her room. "Just admit you've lost it," he said, heading towards the living room. The opening and closing of drawers left a grin on his face.

"I did not lose it! I had it over the summer!"

"Just get a new copy." The next slam of a drawer made him regret his words.

With a huff, she came out of her room, straightening out her shirt. "I have to find that one. I've had it since I was in high school," she said, giving him a pointed look.

He laughed, putting his hands up in mock defense. "And that was how long ago?"

She resumed her search, looking over her bookshelf in case she had missed it the two other time she had searched. "Let's see, I turned thirty seven this year, and I got that book when I was…I want to say…sixteen." It wasn't necessarily the book itself that she treasured. It was the memories associated with it. That, and all the notes she had stuck inside it were important.

"Your book is legally allowed to drink here in Cordova," he said after doing the mental math. Twenty one years was a long time to hold onto something. Much longer than he had with really anything.

Rolling her eyes, she forced herself to continue looking around her shelf. It had to be there somewhere. At the very least, she remembered reading it on her flight back from Wevock over the summer, so she couldn't have accidentally left it with Siebold.

"Why do you need to find it so badly?" He asked, walking towards her kitchen.

"I'm assigning it on to my sophomores Monday, and I want to make sure I've read it again over the weekend." The third search of her bookshelf turned up nothing.

Augustine listened for her footsteps, trying to figure where she was heading now. Likely her office. "How many times would you say you've read it?"

He heard a laugh. "Easily fifty times. Likely more."

He shook his head. "Literature teachers," he said under his breath.

Looking over her sparse counters, his eyes landed on a blue, hardback book that was covered by a few letters. The spine was well worn, and the title of Grand Gulliver was just barely legible. "Grand Gulliver, right?" He called, picking up the book and flipping through its pages. How it was still intact was beyond him. His class set of science books that were only two years old showed more wear than it did.

"Yes."

"Kitchen," he responded, laughing to himself as she groaned, melodramatic in true Diantha fashion.

Notes were scrawled in the margins, with many sentences underlined in various ink colors. Sticky notes were placed at the beginning and ends of each chapters, but the only one that really caught his attention was the one he found at the very beginning of the book.

The pink note was well worn, as if it had been taken off and replaced many times. He could just barely make out, "Thanks for letting me borrow this" then a heart followed with the name "Cynthia". In much smaller writing in the corner, "Still not my favorite book tho".

"Are you done reading through my notes?"

He looked up from the book, meeting her blue eyes. "Cynthia? That was your old girlfriend, right? The tall blonde?" He asked, handing her the book.

She laughed in response, opening the book to where he had just been. "Yes. I read this when I was a sophomore, and she didn't read it until she was a senior. She was having trouble with the book, and so I helped her with it."

"And you've kept that note that long? How sweet." There was a sarcastic edge to his tone, making her roll her eyes again.

"I think it's obvious that I have a hard time letting things go," she said, running a finger along the edge of the note, trying to smooth down the corner. With no luck, she put the book back on the counter, making a mental note of where it was at. Hopefully she wouldn't forget again. "But okay! Now that this I know where this is at, we may leave."

With a shake of his head, he followed her out of her house.

Too patient of a man.

The sounds of people talking soon dwindled away with the approaching closing hour. Soon, the only sound that could be heard were the videos that played on a continuous loop, and Cynthia's own footsteps clicking against the marble floors.

The Friday crowd had been easy enough. Enough tours came through to give her staff in training work, but not enough to where she had to run any of them.

Looking to one of the wall clocks, she knew she had about five minutes to get to Steven's office before she would be interrupted.

While making her way to his office, she kept a careful eye out for any stragglers. The security officers had done their job accordingly, making her walk a quick one.

"Steven, if you have a minute," she said, stepping through the doorway.

"I always have a minute for you, Cynthia," he told her, not looking away from his computer screen. His fingers continued to furiously type away, and she waited for him to stop to begin.

"What do you need?" He asked, giving her his attention.

She took her spot across from him. "I need to ask for a few days off next month. The thirtieth and then the weekend that follows."

His lips curved into a smile. "Am I hearing things correctly?" He asked, amused.

She rolled her eyes, having anticipated the response. "Yes."

"This makes…what? The sixth time in all—" he paused for a few seconds, recalling when he had gotten her the job "—almost eleven years you've worked here? And so soon after asking off to help your sister move?"

"Is this a yes or a no?" She asked, even though she was certain of the answer.

He sat back in his chair, laughing lightly. "Cynthia, you literally have enough accumulated leave to just disappear for well over a month. But what's the occasion if you don't mind me asking?"

"Kay wants me to go with her to Avery's band concert, and then she wants to see me for the weekend," she explained.

He nodded. "That's certainly no trouble. Be sure to tell the both of them I say hello," he told her, turning back to the computer to pull up the schedule sheet.

"Steven~"

Cynthia looked up to the clock on the wall, smiling to herself. Right on time as always.

"And Cynthia too! How are you doing?"

She turned to look up at Steven's husband, giving him a smile. "Wonderful as always, Wallace."

Steven motioned his hand towards her. "Guess who's asking for more time off?"

Wallace gave her a surprised look. "Really?" His expression went more serious. "Do I need to have a talk with him to make sure you get that time off?"

She laughed. "No, he's already told me I could just leave for a month if I wanted to. Might take him up on that offer," she said, looking back at her boss.

Wallace laughed in turn. "If you left for a month, this place would descend into madness."

Steven gave them an indignant look. "I'm not going to deny you're a great employee, but I'm sitting right here."
"No, no, keep telling me how great I am. I could really use it," she said with a grin.

He shook his head, returning his attention to his computer. "I'm not even going to bother. I'm clocking you out, Cynthia, and I'll be ready to leave in about five minutes, Wallace."

Leaning against his desk, Wallace looked to Cynthia. "Meaning another twenty minutes."

She laughed to herself, standing up to take her leave. "I'll see you on Monday, Steven. Have a good weekend, both of you." They wished her well and she was on her way.

While walking to her car, she couldn't help but feel a little envious. Every Friday evening at closing, Wallace would show up to pick up Steven so they could go have dinner together. It was a simple routine, but one that left her feeling envious.

She knew it wasn't something she needed, but the thought of having something like they had was a nice one.

Avery sat on the couch, book in hand. She had reread the first three chapters twice now, but was still confused. Answering the worksheet questions did little to aid her understanding, which frustrated her. The first book her class read was easy enough, but it had been more straightforward. Grand Gulliver was leaving her feeling like she was being talked in circles.

"Hey, mom?" She asked, looking over to the dinner table.

She continued to fold clothes. "What's up?"

"Did you ever read Grand Gulliver?"

She paused, keeping the flannel shirt in her hands. The title alone was enough to trigger a flood of memories. "It's been awhile, but yeah," she answered, resuming her work.

"Like…what's it about? I'm only three chapters in, and I just…I don't understand."

Kay hummed in response, thinking over what she remembered of the book. "Well," she eventually began after a few more shirts had been folded. "Give me a sec."

Grabbing what she had finished, she headed off to her room in search of her phone. Pulling up the recent contact tab she hit Cynthia's name.

After a few rings, "Didn't we just get off the phone not even ten minutes ago?"

She snorted. "Hello, again to you too, my dearest, most wonderful sister."

"What do you need now?" At least her tone sounded more amused than anything.

"Do you remember anything about Grand Gulliver?" She asked, putting her shirts away.

There was a laugh on the other end. "Lord, I haven't thought about that book in years. What about it?"

"Avery's reading it and doesn't understand it. Books weren't my thing, but whats-her-face really liked that one, right? You remember anything about it?" She didn't need to say her name. Enough old feelings had been resurfaced just by the book's title.

"Instead of playing telephone, how about you just hand the phone to Avery."

"Yeah, give me a minute," she said, heading out of her room to find her daughter. She still was on the couch. "Talk to your aunt," she said, handing over the phone.

She tried to refuse the phone. "But the book —hi aunt Cindy!" She hated talking on the phone more than anything. Even if it was just her aunt.

"So you're reading Grand Gulliver, huh?"

She sighed in relief. "Yeah, and I just…I don't really get it. It just sounds like a big love letter. I mean, I'm only a few chapters in, but? I just?" She complained.

Cynthia laughed in response. "That's pretty much what I thought at first. I think the best thing I can tell you is this: you're on the right track with the narrator, Vick, being enamored with Gulliver. He's enamored with him to the point that he's not lying, but he's not telling the truth either. As far as credibility goes, Vick is not reliable. In the beginning, he's completely blinded with the image of Gulliver that he has in his mind. I had a…friend, who loved the book way too much, and that was something she always talked about."

She hummed, thinking everything over. "Y'know…that kinda makes sense now that I think about it. I mean, Gulliver can't be that great, right?"

"Exactly. Sure, he's rich and charming, but he's not just that. Later on, Vick realizes that his image of Gulliver is all wrong, but it takes him awhile…"

Diantha sat at her desk, finally forcing herself to put the spread of papers and pen down. Looking around her makeshift office, she wanted to concentrate on something, anything, other than marking papers left and right with blue ink. After about five hours, well into her Saturday morning, it was starting to turn into an angry color.
The grandfather clock that sat at the corner of the room had long stopped ticking, leaving the house all too quiet. If she listened close enough she could hear a car pass by now and then, but other than that, it was silent.

Most nights, it wasn't something she would even notice.
But on nights like that one, where the day itself had been harder for no reason other than her own anxiety dictating so, it was unbearable.

She had often mulled over the idea of getting a pet. However, with the long stretches of time she spent at the school, she didn't think it would be fair to any animal to keep them without company for so long.

At one point, she had valued all the alone time. With so much of her youth having cameras, directors, costars, and makeup artists in her face, it was nice to be alone. But, slowly over time, the feeling began to turn to bitter loneliness.

With a deep breath, she leaned back in her chair, trying her hardest to force the feeling down.

It would be okay. She would be okay.

No matter what she felt, she didn't need the company of another person to be okay. She had her small circle of friends. She had her job. She had herself.

It would be okay.

It would be okay.

It would be okay.
But no matter how much she tried to assure herself of the statement, she couldn't help but feel that it would at least be nice to have someone.

Looking to her phone, she caught herself wishing that she had taken Augustine up on his offer to keep her company. In the back of her mind, though, she knew better than to give into it. Sure, she adored him and he was a wonderful friend, but he deserved someone who wanted him more often than when she was just lonely.

She was long past forcing feelings to be there when they weren't.

Diantha slapped a hand over her mouth to refrain from laughing as they walked through her house. Cynthia kept by her side, unamused.

"I came to you in confidence about this, and you're laughing at me," she grumbled.

"No, no! I'm sorry! I don't mean to laugh, honestly!" Little giggles here and there weren't helping her case. "I'm laughing because you had to help me with Runner In The Wild, and now I'm the one helping you."

She opened her bedroom door for Cynthia, allowing her to walk ahead. Out of politeness, of course. Not because she liked watching the way her friend's hair swayed when pulled back in a ponytail.

"That's because you hated that book, and I thought it was good."

That forced Diantha to pull herself out of her trance. She wouldn't stand for that injustice. "Runner In The Wild was terrible!"

Her scowl finally started turning into a grin. "What was is he loved to call people that upset you?"

Door closed, she marched up to her. "Don't you dare say it."

If she wasn't so much shorter, she was sure they'd be in each other's faces at that point. "Oh, that's right!"

"No!" She stood on her toes, still not quite eye level with her.

It was too much fun to tease her. "Don't be such a phony, Diantha."

She threw her head back, groaning with as much aguish as her body could muster. "I can't believe I call you my best friend."

Now Cynthia was the one laughing. It was no wonder she was auditioning for a part in a melodrama. "C'mon, you big phony."

"I hate you," she whined. She betrayed her words by throwing her arms around Cynthia and resting her head on her chest.

She continued laughing, putting her arms around her in turn. "No you don't, you phony."

"I guess I don't. But if you keep calling my a phony—" Cynthia maybe just adored the way she said that stupid word "—I might have to reconsider."

She hummed in response, but said nothing further, not wanting to ruin the moment. Though, the longer they stood together, the more she worried Diantha might take notice of her heartbeat.

She had noticed it from the start, but said nothing. Forcing herself away, she grabbed for Cynthia's hands. "Oh! I just remembered!" She said, pulling her towards the balcony. "The magnolia tree is finally blooming!"

Every year since they became friends, whenever Cynthia would come over, they would sit out on her balcony for hours on end, watching the world go by as they talked about anything and everything. Cynthia's favorite part of the view was the magnolia tree whenever it would start to bloom in spring.

After a bit of silence, "Your eighteenth birthday is coming up," Cynthia commented, glancing over at her.

"I know. I'm going to be an old lady, just like you!" She teased.

Cynthia rolled her eyes, half tempted to call her a phony again, just to razz her. "Are you ever going to tell me what you want?"

She shook her head as she began to pull her hair out of its braid. "I've already told you. I just want to spend the day with you, my dear Cynthia."

She wanted to press the topic further, but the new use of 'dear Cynthia' caught her off guard. It was something Diantha's mother did, but different. When her mother used it, it sounded sarcastic and as though she wanted something from whoever she was calling dear. When Diantha said it, there was something about it that made her anxious.

It was only within the last few months that Diantha herself had begun to use it. With every time she used it, she thought she was going to come unglued and say something she would later regret.

"I know that," she finally managed. "But something physical I can give you."

Diantha felt her face grow warm at the first idea that came to mind. She couldn't even look at her as she said, "I just want to spend the day with you. Nothing more." Instead, she watched the magnolia tree's blooms below them.

"You thought of something." Though, what that something was remained largely unknown to Cynthia. Whatever it was, it left her with a noticeable blush.

"Don't worry about it. Please."

Instead of trying to push her further, she decided it was best to try to change the subject. "Well, what about Grand Gulliver."

"Right! Well, think of the beginning as…someone who is speaking of how enamored they are with someone else. How Vick speaks of Gulliver isn't really realistic," she explained, bringing them back into her room.

She shrugged. "I guess I can see that."

"For about the first half of the book he only talks about the good he sees in Gulliver. Or, at least, the good he thinks he sees in him. He's not a reliable narrator."

"But it's in Vick's point of view? How can he be unreliable?" She asked, sitting with her at the edge of her bed.

"When you're enamored with someone—" she noted that she was no longer looking at her "—you don't really speak of the bad qualities, or you make excuses for them. It's not until later that he finally sees them, and then he has to go through this whole thing of deciding if he wants to accept Gulliver for who he really is."

Cynthia gave it a few moments of thought. "So…they're in love?"

Diantha laughed, shaking her head. "Not exactly. It's never explicitly stated, but…I always felt Vick was at least in love with the idea of who he thought Gulliver was. I got good grades for talking about it at least! And my teacher said I was right about him being an unreliable narrator!"

"So you're telling me to plagiarize?"

Diantha huffed, laying back on her bed. "No," she said, dragging it out. "I'm pointing something out to you. Once you see that, it will change how you view the book…Maybe."

Cynthia hummed in acknowledgment, laying next to her. Maybe it changed her view on the book. Maybe not…