Thanks to everyone who read and/or reviewed. It's been a long time since I've tried to write anything. Your encouraging comments are very sweet. I realized as I was writing this chapter, that I have no idea where in LA Calleigh is from. So, I'm faking it. I'm sure we'll all survive.
Calleigh rushed around her house, throwing items into her suitcases. Black dress, matching shoes, jacket, shampoo. Check.
Toothbrush.
Hair dryer.
Check. Check.
Under different circumstances, Eric would have laughed at the sight. Frazzled Calleigh, talking to herself as she frantically ran about grabbing various items. Given the situation, though, he wisely chose to leave these thoughts unvoiced, and generally unacknowledged, even unto himself.
"Cal, what time is your flight?" He shouted through the halls.
"My what?" She yelled back.
"Your flight." He chuckled a little, seeing where this was going. "You know, the airplane. The large floaty thing that magically takes you from here to your final destination in less time that a car or train? You know, that."
She appeared this time, hands on her hips. "I know what a plane is, and it isn't magic and it doesn't float. It's just physics. It's really just a basic ratio of lift versus drag. You factor in momentum, or thrust to get the average velocity. If you want the instantaneous vel–."
"I get it, I get it. Okay." Eric held up his hands in defeat. "It doesn't float. It glides through the air with effortless speed, easily calculable through basic vector calculus and other stuff no one in their right mind would even bother wondering about." He smiled at her for effect.
"No." She shook her head again. "It doesn't glide. Gliders don't have engines. That's different. Airplanes, at least commercial ones, have jet engines, and it's not effortless, really. It's really complex. I can explain it to you. I just need a sheet of paper and a pen." Her eyes gleamed and she smirked a bit at him.
She was kidding. She was joking with him. He was relieved.
"You think I'm out of my right mind?" She challenged him, trace of a smile on her face still.
"I never said that."
"You said no one in their right mind would take vector calculus." Her eyes focused steadily on his face. "I took vector calculus. And differential calculus and integral calculus, and multivariable calculus…" She trailed off, hands still on her hips. "So just exactly what are you insinuating there, Delko!"
He knew there was no way to dig himself out of this hole, so he decided instead to just keep digging. "It's crazy." He stated simply. "It's crazy to spend all that time crunching numbers when you could be, say…going for a nice swim in the ocean or something." He mimicked her stance, hands on his hips.
"Oh, really?"
"Really."
"Well, it just so happens that without all those "crazy" classes, we wouldn't have airplanes or cars, or skyscrapers, or computers, or cell phones, or that delivery pizza you love so much." That one hit hard. He DID love the delivery pizza.
"Then I guess I'd just have to hop on my bike and go myself, then."
"And how would you EVER know how far you had to go, or how fast you're going?"
"Calleigh," he laughed. "My bicycle doesn't have a speedometer!"
"Darn it." She laughed with him. "It was a pretty good argument until you poked that hole in it!" She slapped her hand gently on his forearm, letting it linger a bit too long. Realizing what she'd done, she gasped and glanced at Eric's face. He was watching her closely; aware of what was running through her mind. She quickly withdrew her hand, and they stood awkwardly for a while, in her hallway, neither one of them saying anything.
It was Eric who broke the silence, getting back to the original question. "When does your flight leave?"
"My flight?" She repeated. "I don't know."
He was confused for a moment, then understood immediately. She'd forgotten to book one. "I'll check it out, and tell you what I find, how about that?" He looked at her tenderly. For a moment he'd believed she was okay, but clearly that was not the case. Not that he minded helping…
"Yeah." She nodded. "Yeah, that'd be great."
"Hey, no problem." He sauntered off toward her computer, turning his head to watch as she remained motionless in the hallway. He sighed again, wishing there was something he could actually DO to make her feel better. Something other than picking fake physics arguments to get her all riled up, or booking airline tickets. He wanted to do…more.
He booted up her computer and took a seat at the desk, eyes falling on a framed picture. It was of she and her father a few years ago, he guessed. Her eyes were sparkling and she was laughing about something. He may not have been a perfect father, but she loved him. And Eric supposed her loved her, too. She was "Daddy's little girl," and this was tearing her apart.
"Hey, Cal," he yelled. "Do you need a rental car, too?" He wasn't sure what the reception would be like when she arrived.
"No. I'll call my mom or someone."
"Okay."
"Which airport do you want to fly into? New Orleans or Baton Rouge?" He realized he wasn't entirely certain where her family lived.
"Shreveport or Jackson, actually. They're both closer."
He plugged in the search criteria and hit enter. "Looks like four hundred to Shreveport, and two hundred to Jackson. You're lucky, they're having a deal."
"Yeah." She whispered, and he winced, realizing what he'd said. "Real lucky." The last part she said mostly to herself, but it cut Eric's heart like a knife.
"Cal, I'm so sorry." He stood and reached out to her, but she backed away a bit. "I didn't mean it like that, I swear. I'm a jackass." He watched her face closely, but could read nothing in it.
"Doesn't matter." She shook her head. "I know you weren't trying to be mean."
"Cal, I swear, I feel awful." He really did. "Let me make it up to you?"
She looked at him suspiciously. "What've you got in mind?"
"I'll figure something out. It'll be a surprise." His mind went into overdrive. "Something to look forward to when you get back?" He offered the last part as a bit of a peace offering, with no small amount of trepidation.
"Sure." She agreed. "Okay."
With that, she turned and left the room.
"Wait, Calleigh!" He went after her. "Do you want the cheaper one?"
"Was that the one to Jackson?"
"Yeah."
"Yeah. It's a little closer." Was her only reply.
He started booking her flight for her, and realized he needed her credit card. It seemed gauche to bring up money at a time like this. Reaching into his back pocket, he extricated his wallet and drew out his own credit card. The flight wasn't that much, and he figured she'd have a cow and insist on repaying him anyway. He secretly hoped that she didn't. It would be nice to actually have her let him show her…anything, really. If this is what it took, well, she was worth it. More than. The site popped up an advertisement for a seat upgrade. An additional 65, and you could move up to business class. He checked the box without giving it a second thought. She should fly comfortably now, especially now at a time like this.
"Alright." He walked to her room, but not inside. "All set."
"What time?" She was in the closet, her voice a little muffled.
"7:34 tonight." He replied. "You land in Jackson at 8:55 with the time difference factored in."
"Tonight." She repeated.
"Yeah. You wanted a different day?" He'd just assumed she'd want to get there as quickly as possible. Perhaps he'd been mistaken.
"No. No." She smiled at him briefly. "That's great. Thank you."
"Is that too late?"
"It's perfect, Eric." She tried to sound convincing. "Really, thank you. For all of this." She spread her hand in front of her, gesturing broadly.
"Hey, don't mention it." He meant that, too. "Are you about packed? We have just enough time to grab you some dinner and make your flight on time."
"What? Eric, you really don't need to drive me clear to the airport." She protested. "I can take a cab or leave my car in the lot."
"Yeah, for a hundred bucks or so, sure, you can take a cab. And for eighty bucks a day you can park your own. You can ride with me for free."
"You don't need to. It's out of your way. Really, it'll be fine. And it's NOT that expensive." A little of the sparkle was back in her eyes.
"I want to." He really did. "Please?"
She smiled softly at him and nodded. He always knew how to disarm her. Those eyes, that voice. The emotion behind one simple word. Please. It held possibilites, hopes, but she couldn't let her mind linger on any of that right now. Pushing it to the back of her brain, she zipped up her carry-on, slung it over her shoulder, and extended the handle of her suitcase. "Ready." She almost sounded cheerful. Even she almost believed it. But only almost.
Eric reached out and threaded his fingers under the strap of her carry on, brushing them gently against her shoulder in the process. She shivered imperceptibly at the unexpected contact. He deftly removed her bag from her arm, and swatted her hand off the pull of her suitcase. "I've got these." He motioned for her to go ahead of him. "You make sure you have everything. I'll put this stuff in the car."
She made no effort to move, seemingly rooted to the floor. He paused a moment, then walked down the short hallway to the front door, and out to the car. She was still standing there when he returned, but her expression was one he'd never seen before.
"Calleigh?" It almost wasn't even a question. He inched nearer. "Calleigh." He repeated. He could see her jaw clenched as he got closer. Glancing at her hands, he saw them balled into fists. She was losing a battle with herself, and he was the only witness. Her chin quivered a bit, and he closed the distance without giving it any though at all. Gently he reached an arm around her shoulders, turning her into him, his other hand moving to stroke her golden hair. "Hey." He whispered in her ear. "It's okay. Let it out."
She did not, but she didn't push him away either. The latter surprised him, the former did not. She stood rock solid for a moment, before softening her stance, allowing herself to be held by him, encircled by him. Slowly, she inched one arm, then two around his torso, drawing strength from his solidity, his presence, his existence. She calmed down in what seemed to Eric like record time, and drew herself away from his body.
"Sorry." She murmured softly, embarrassed.
"Hey." He reached out impulsively, eager to have the connection back, and pushed an errant strand of hair behind her ear. "None of that."
She still wouldn't meet his eyes, not that he expected her to. "How about dinner?" He suggested, knowing she desperately wanted to change the subject. "I know just the place."
She faked a smile for what seemed like the millionth time that day, and let it melt as she dared to glance into his brown eyes. He saw her. He saw the real her. That realization made her shiver involuntarily. She wasn't sure she liked being that transparent to someone, but she had to admit. If you're going to be transparent to anyone, Eric Delko was a pretty good choice.
"Italian?"
"Of course." He knew her well. "They have amazing manicotti. Best in Miami." He assured her.
"Sounds good." She walked out ahead of him, glancing around as she went to make sure she didn't leave anything too necessary.
Eric sent a silent prayer up to the God of his childhood and the Virgin Mary, too, just in case someone was listening. His friend was hurting, and it was breaking his heart. With that, he walked out the front door, pulling his keys out to lock it behind him. He marveled, not for the first time, as he slipped the key into the lock. He had a key to her apartment, and she his. That usually said something. He pondered this a bit, then decided to ignore the topic altogether. Checking the door knob and the deadbolt, he turned, satisfied that her home was secure, and joined her in the car.
