I know I haven't updated in a while. Over Thanksgiving I worked on this chapter, as well as future chapters, but didn't finish this one. It's out of character for me, since I'm one of those people who has to have everything in order. ;D Well, I hope you all enjoy this chapter. Please drop a review on your way out if you have a comment. They're encouraging. :)
WARNING: Some foul language.
~Hereafter~
Chapter Three – December, 1942
December 23, 1942
"WHAT THE HELL?" Alexa shouted. She looked at her hair in the mirror, gaping in horror as she saw the bright orange color. Fiercely grabbing the shampoo bottle out of the cabinet in the bathroom, she could see the coloring dye inside.
"How did she even find this color?" she thought furiously. Looking in the mirror for a second time, she screamed the name of the woman responsible on the top of her lungs.
"DIANE!" She heard mad cackling from the living room, and the quick footsteps of her friend.
"What's the…oh my."
"Linda, take a good look. She's going to die for it," Alexa said calmly, before dropping the bottle in the sink and running into the living room. No one was there, conveniently. But the front door to the dorm was open. Alexa sprinted down the hall, down the stairs, and caught sight of Diane running out the main doors.
"I thought you would like the carrot look!" Diane shouted over her shoulder.
Alexa wasn't a violent person by nature. She had survived several battles and more than her share of war. But rarely had she been as angry as she was in this moment.
She chased her roommate downstairs, across the courtyard and into the cafeteria, where most students were already having breakfast. Diane weaved through people, around tables, and around the buffet. Alexa narrowly avoided hitting a boy holding his tray of food, but managed to swerve at the last moment.
"Maybe I should call you carrot-top from now on, huh?" Diane threw over her shoulder as they ran around empty…and not so empty tables.
"I will pulverize you!" Alexa shouted.
"Alexa?" She stopped dead in her tracks, and Diane stopped soon after, realizing she was no longer being pursued.
"Alexa, is that…you?" She squeezed her eyes shut, and clenched her teeth.
"No, not now…" she thought in agonizing embarrassment. Alexa slowly turned around and saw Peter with his roommate, and with a few of his friends. They were probably just having breakfast before she and Peter had to leave for their train back to Finchley.
"Peter, I—"
"Oh, is that the boyfriend you've been tittering on about? I'm surprised." Diane raised her eyebrows as she smirked. Alexa rolled her eyes and sighed, while Peter raised a brow. He stood and walked forward. His roommate, Richard, also stood, but stayed near the table.
"Not quite the little girl you thought I was?" Alexa asked sardonically, not bothering to turn around to face her.
"Oh princess, you're everythin' I thought you were," Diane mocked. "A Plain Jane little powder puff...and I'm willing to bet you're still a virgin."
She waved coquettishly at the men at Peter's table, who were looking on in amusement. Alexa shook her head and sighed again. Peter joined her side and laid a hand on her shoulder.
"It's Diane, right?" he asked. Diane looked at him with a small smirk.
"Right," she said through lowered lashes. Alexa's fists clenched.
"'Dirty Diane,' Isn't that you're nickname?" Diane's eyes widened marginally.
"Not very original, I think," Peter said, and slid his arm around Alexa's waist possessively. "It was...a pleasure to meet my girlfriend's roommate."
They had to rush to get all their things together to leave for their train, but Alexa managed to say goodbye to Linda before they left for the station. It would only be a short hour before they would be back in Finchley for Christmas.
"I'm still in shock," Alexa laughed. She placed her purse inside the department above theirs seats and took hers near the window.
"I am too," Peter mused. He sat across from her with a book in his lap.
"Her face was priceless!"
"I feel badly about insulting her like that."
"It was wonderful!"
"I shouldn't have. It hurt my pride as a gentleman."
"Oh, come off it you were marvelous, with a straight face and everything. I love you."
Peter sighed.
"You shouldn't love me for that."
"Why not?"
"It was inappropriate. Bringing up her…personal life." Alexa chortled at this.
"You mean her public life. Everyone knows she's like that."
"Still, to have it thrown in your face by another man…"
"You know what makes me feel badly? Having to visit your parents' house looking like a bloody orange, that's what." Peter took another look at her hair, and had to bit his lip to refrain from laughing out loud. She pouted.
"Stop it! When we get to Finchley, the first place I'm going to is a department store to scavenge for any hair dye I can find close enough to my natural color."
"You're not going to leave it like this? But it's so—"
"If it's so important for you to get to your parents' house, you won't finish that sentence." Peter laughed and held up his hands in a placating manner.
"What made you speak up," she asked him, a little more seriously.
"Wasn't it obvious? My wife needed me." He twisted a lock of her now brightly-colored hair between his fingers. Alexa smiled a little. "And her comments might've irked me."
"Considering I'm not a virgin, for starters," Alexa mumbled. Peter had to smother his laughter as to not disturb the people in nearby suites.
Once arriving at the station in Finchley, the two went their separate ways. Mary was there to meet them and drove her daughter home, while Peter took a cab to his family's house. Once she was settled at home, Alexa helped her mother put up the wall hangings their family had traditionally hung every Christmas. This, among other traditions, was not Alexa's favorite. Only because she couldn't reach the nails that had been placed in the wall for them. She stretched her arm upward as high as she could, straining muscle even as she stood on the tips of her toes.
"I'm sorry, but you look ridiculous."
"Thank you, Mum. I appreciate that."
"You're welcome. The orange completes it."
"You found the hair dye, right?"
"Yes I did, fortunately for you. I had to fend off several middle-aged women overdone with cosmetics, but I managed to find something close to your natural color."
"Thank you. Again, I appreciate the effort."
"It was against my better judgment. I'd rather you suffer a little with it. Learn your lesson for being snooty with other people instead of trying to help them. But I didn't want to be seen with you in that outrageous get-up." Alexa sighed. She hadn't told her mother all of what happened (mostly excluding what Diane said), just the general facts to keep some of what was left of her dignity.
"Could you help me, maybe?"
"Where's the fun in that?"
Alexa glared.
"Oh fine. Move over. It was so much easier when we had your father do these." Alexa paused and glanced at her mother. After a moment, Mary sighed.
"I'm sorry, dear."
"Never mind, I just…need a hand here."
In another hour, they had finished the decorations around the house. The two sat to quite a verbal meal, catching up on the past few months. Situations of living, people they had met, places they had been.
"I feel badly about leaving you here alone. I'm almost never here," Alexa said.
"Don't worry about that. I get off well. I have plenty of friends here in our neighborhood, I have a job now. Bet you never thought your mother would be off working." Not that Alexa was that surprised. All women were being forced to go out now that they lived in such straining times made by the war. It was common talk now, women taking up men's vocations. What once was taboo was now an everyday occurrence in the past couple of years. Although, it was strange to think of.
"What are you doing now? I thought you were a cabby."
"I was in the summer. Now I'm in the production line—the glass and plastic industrial building, a train ride into London each day."
"Sounds like a hassle."
"Not really. I enjoy the ride to catch up on my reading."
"You mean the puzzles in the paper?"
"…Eat your carrots, carrot top."
But soon, as the decorations made the atmosphere viewed more festive, the conversation dissolved into stories previously thought long forgotten—of other Christmases past.
"Well, that year your father had just gotten promoted. He wanted to spoil you, though I suggested coal."
"Beautiful, Mother. Only you would give coal to your own child."
"Damn right I would. He didn't see you when I sent you off to school in the morning, or on those weekends he was gone for business things. He spoiled you rotten, I say," she teased. Alexa rolled her eyes playfully.
"Obviously he loves me more than you do."
"No, I love you the same as he did. I just enforce the brilliant lesson of tough love."
"If he could hear you right now…"
"I'm sure he would agree with me."
"He always gives you exactly what you want."
"He did."
"Why are you doing that?" Alexa asked, standing from her seat at the dining table.
"Doing what?"
"That."
"What?"
"Talking about him as if…as if…" Alexa paused. She was irritated, but she couldn't formulate the thought correctly.
"Dear, sit down." Against her proper judgment, Alexa obeyed.
"Where do you think your father is?" Mary asked.
"I don't know…in battle somewhere."
"The war is nearly over. Even your friends' father has been discharged…"
"W-What are you saying?" Alexa's eyes became wide, and Mary's glassy at the aghast expression of her daughter. She hesitated.
"…I've given up," she said simply. "I have…I loved him. But—"
"Stop, just stop. Don't—"
"I still hold him in my heart." Mary paused, covering her face with her hand as her emotions finally took over. "I'll never…not again…not like that again…but I have peace. I made peace long ago. I hope you one day will as well." Alexa couldn't control her sobs, try as she might to quash them. Mary came around the table and held her close.
"How do you know?" Alexa managed through her emotions.
"I just know. A feeling in my heart."
"He's still fighting for us, I know it." Mary didn't have the heart to refute her, but shook her head.
"One day, you will make peace."
Upon entering his home, he was attacked with hugs and kisses from his mother and sister and given a firm handshake from his father, as well as a strong welcoming embrace from his brother. As he began taking out decorated boxes from a suitcase, his mother began firing questions without restrain.
"How has school been? Have you made any friends? How is Alexa? How are your classes? Have you been getting enough to eat over there? You look a bit thin, dear. Oh, my goodness, let me help you with those. Here I am, blabbering on while you've just gotten through the door—"
"It's fine, Mum," Peter said with a laugh.
"No, no, I insist. Edmund! Grab your brother's things and take them to your room. Susan, get him something to drink, he looks parched. John? John! Where are you?"
She paused from her work at getting out the few presents, and looked around the small living room. There was a long couch, with a smaller loveseat beside it (closest to the door), and a recliner on the far side. In front of the couch, between the recliner and the loveseat, sat a simple coffee table. The entire house itself wasn't very large, but it was comfortable. It held a warmth Peter had missed while living at university. A familiarity no time elsewhere could quench.
Edmund begrudgingly did as he was told, shaking his head and grumbling all the way (something about brothers who get pampered to death).
"Thanks, Ed!" Peter called with a smirk. Edmund rolled his eyes, trudging up the stairs. Susan let out a giggle as she left for the kitchen, leaving Lucy to attack her eldest brother once again.
"We've missed you so much! It hasn't been the same without you." Her words were muffled, as her face was buried in his warm jacket.
"Of course it hasn't, I make every day worthwhile!" he teased. She rolled her eyes, but beamed and pulled away.
"How has everything been going at university?" she asked.
"Well enough. Classes are challenging, people there too. All most of them do is attend parties and socialize after hours," he replied with a sigh.
"That's frustrating," she sympathized.
"You learn to ignore them. I've attended a few myself, but I've had to study hard."
"For once in your life," his mother teased, joining the conversation.
"Hey, I studied in secondary school!"
"Not much. You were smart enough to get by without really working hard," added Lucy. Though this was more of a product of having learned most of the subjects long before.
"Not this year. There are too many assignments and examinations to have much free time. You either study, or fail."
"That seems simple enough," said Helen.
"A simple concept, not so simple to follow through with. But I'm learning a lot about my craft. You wouldn't believe how many articles and papers and short stories I've had to write since the beginning of the school year," said Peter. He took off his jacket and sat on the couch, where his sister and mother joined him. Susan came in from the kitchen as well, holding Peter's drink and a plate of cookies Helen had made that morning.
"That sounds exciting, what sort of stories?" Susan asked while placing the tray on the coffee table. Edmund came down the stairwell and also plopped down on the loveseat.
"Hold on, Peter. Edmund, where is your father?" Helen asked.
"He's com—"
"I'm here, I'm here. I just had to take a call." John greeted his son warmly and took his seat on the recliner before gesturing for Peter to continue.
"Well," he began, clearing his throat. "Let me think…oh! All right, here's one. A young princess had thought the prince she had chosen to marry was perfect for her in every way: charming, intelligent, witty, chivalrous, a gentleman. He conducted himself with honor within her household, with her four other siblings. But when he convinces her to visit his homeland, his true colors are revealed. Now, it all starts with a letter the prince's ambassadors send her highness…"
"Somehow I get the feeling I've heard this before," Edmund whispered to Lucy. Susan heard, however, and pinched him.
"Owch!"
"Hush," Helen ordered sternly. "Do continue, Peter."
Peter grinned.
"As I was saying, it started with a letter the prince's ambassadors send her highness…"
The rest of the night went something like this—trading stories and amusing memories. It was during supper that evening, that Peter was questioned again of life at university with friends and other things. Mostly by Helen, who was quite curious of what her son was doing away from home. Not that she was particularly suspicious of her son. She knew he was responsible. She only…worried.
"Well Mum, much of it is expected. Frivolous-living young adults who shouldn't have that much time on their hands, some who enjoy the night life far more than they should. But there are others that truly are there to learn," said Peter.
"You are associating with those that are of the latter group, I hope," said John.
"Yes, Dad. Of course." Which was somewhat of a lie, if he counted Richard, James, Thomas, Charles…all right, most of his friends. But, they all did well enough to pass at least.
"Have you met any nice young women, Peter?" asked Helen. Side-chatting ceased with the question. Susan and Lucy acted as neutral as possible, while Edmund couldn't fight off the grin tugging upward at his lips. Peter willed his mind to come up with a valid-sounding answer.
"Yes, I suppose I've met some very lovely ladies," he replied.
And some not so lovely, he thought privately.
"Any in particular?" asked John.
"Yeah, Pete. Anyone in particular?" Ed chimed in. Peter nearly beat the grin off his brother's face, but restrained from doing so on account of there being so many witnesses.
"Not really…"
"Oh come now, son. You're coming to an age where—"
"Dad, please—"
"You're going to start developing—"
"Please, spare me the—"
"Thoughts and feelings—"
"—Lecture. Please, Mum, make him stop—"
"Toward the opposite sex that—"
"Dad, I understand—"
"May start to engross your thoughts if left unattended—"
"I beg you—"
"And then just…pop up at—"
"Mum, please intervene—"
"The most inopportune times—"
"John."
"Yes, Dear?"
"I think your son is red enough."
John peered at said young man, who sat, head in hand as his siblings practically rolled on the ground beside their chairs.
"If it's all the same, Dad," Edmund said, and took pity on his brother, "I think he only has eyes for one."
"Oh?" Helen asked. "Who, dear?"
Peter rubbed the back of his neck and smiled somewhat nervously. He didn't know exactly why he was nervous. Both his parents liked Alexa dearly, but thought they were only good friends made from being housed at the Professor's house together for so long.
"Well..."
"Wait, I suppose I wouldn't know her, would I?" Helen mused. Peter quirked a small grin.
"Well..."
Lucy woke that night at unholy hour of the morning, barely able to be called as such. She hadn't really slept soundly to begin with this night, but she had given it a try. Eventually, she slipped out of bed and made her way downstairs to the kitchen. All was dark as pitch, but she managed to side-step her wait around the counter and to the light switch. She flipped it on, and gasped in surprise.
"Peter, what are you doing here in the dark? You gave me a fright," she exclaimed.
"Shhh," he motioned to their parents' bedroom across the hall, though he grinned sheepishly. She eyed him through narrowed slits.
"I couldn't sleep," he admitted.
"…Neither could I," Lucy replied.
"Something on your mind?"
"Well…yes, I suppose so."
"You suppose? How is school?" He took his seat at the counter and motioned for his sister to do the same.
"It's fine. I'm not thrilled to be there, but I'm getting high marks," she said as she sat down.
"…I wasn't speaking of marks," Peter said pointedly. She regarded him for a long moment. Then, she sighed.
"I don't know. The children are nice enough but…I'm just not used to it quite yet."
"I understand," he murmured.
"I don't know if I ever will be…" She sighed again. "Things will never be the same, will they?"
"Well, define the same." Peter gave a ghost of a smile.
"You know what I mean."
"No, I really don't. What, before leaving Finchley? Before the war? Lu, that's the old life. There's nothing left of that."
"I know that…but I can't stand it." Her hand drew near to her face, covering her now glassy eyes.
"Stand what?" His gaze softened.
"I'm...I'm all right with leaving. It was my home, but this is as well. It's just…I knew him there. I saw him."
"We all saw him…" he trailed.
"You're not following, are you?"
"I'm a tad confused."
"I don't see him here, even though he told me as such…I don't know."
"No, I understand. I…I miss him too, Lu." And he did, he truly did. From the bottom of his heart. But he only had the knowledge that he would see the Lion once again in his country for comfort.
She shook her head. He still didn't get it.
"Before Ed and I left with Eustace, He promised. He told us we could find him in this world." The words did ring familiar within him. He had forgotten…
"I remember…" he trailed.
"Have you found him?" she asked. He shook his head negatively.
"No."
"I didn't think so." Peter observed the young girl sitting across from him, the drawn face of a young woman.
"What happened to the little girl that always wore a smile?" he asked with a small frown. She looked down at her slipper covered feet: red, with two, white cotton balls that dangled from the top. They reminded her of Christmas, but never Father Christmas. He didn't look like the depictions of him in a red fat-suite.
"Where's the little girl that always seemed to dance as she walked, that checked on me in the study when she deemed I had worked too long?" he asked, shoving her playfully. She gave a small smile, which made him grin in turn.
"What happened to the girl who made me smile, just by smiling…even when I didn't want to?" He pointed to her upturned mouth teasingly, and she giggled. "Ah, there it is."
He laughed quietly.
"What happened to the young woman, tenacious and stubborn through any obstacle that stood in her path—whether it be squabbling residents, or jump-starting Edmund out of bed?" She laughed out loud then, trying her best to smother the noise.
"What happened to the young woman, whose faith in Aslan rivaled that of any other Narnian?" he whispered. She heard him quite loudly, however, and she very nearly wept.
"You're right. I'm sorry," she said at last, after she had calmed somewhat.
"Don't apologize. Just renew that stubborn trait I know you very well have."
She smiled, then gave him a cursory glance.
"It runs in the family."
