Chapter 4: The Past Freaking Up To You

"Oh man, I'm stuffed."

Adymm smiled, leaning back in his chair. "You're preachin' to the choir, girl. There should be warning labels on their pasta."

"I know, but... I just had a salad and lobster, I figured I'd have room for something chocolatey!"

"You can over-cocoa yourself tomorrow, I promise."

I couldn't help but grin at him like a little kid; here we were, sitting on the roof of the swanky Chez Portobello, sipping wine under the stars at a candlelit table, taking in the- what? Okay, okay, you caught me; it was just grape juice in fancy glasses, but our being underage didn't make it any less romantic.

Not only that, but at one point a violinist came over to our table during dinner! Of course, he was trying to play that annoying Rimsky-Korsakov piece, which meant we had to chase him away. Quickly. By throwing dinner rolls. Truth be told, that was damn fun.

By now, though, we'd gone through the appetizers and main course, and were basking in the glow of a pleasant evening. As Adymm unwrapped one of the complimentary toothpicks, I just stared at him; where once I had thought of him as a gangly little goth freak, now I saw him as a fine example of a man, with those noble, angular features, the well-toned (if not "bulging", per se) physique... and he had quite the shoe size on him (SHH, you didn't hear me say that!). Even his eyebrow rings had diamonds in them tonight.

"What? Did I miss something?"

"Huh?" When he brought me back the present, I could see he was asking about his teeth. I shook my head. "Oh, no, you're in the clear."

"Oh. What's wrong, then?"

The smile returned in full force. "Not a thing."

And when my smile was shared with him, our glow was almost enough to put the candle to shame.

The date wasn't by any sense over, mind you; after that we went out for ice cream. Yeah, maybe I said I was stuffed, but by the time we walked from the restaurant to the ice cream shop, I was ready for a scoop of chocolate-chip cookie dough. We mostly licked and talked about random stuff, it was nice - until...

"Oh, I almost forgot to mention it," Adymm said, taking a bite out of his waffle cone.

"Whab ig id?" I managed around a mouthful.

"Greg said that coffee house in Westbridge wants us back... sometime next week. It's too bad we all have school and jobs and whatnot, 'cos I'm sure-"

"Oh."

He glanced up at me, puzzled. "What?"

"Huh? Oh, nothing. Yeah, sucks to be us, I guess."

He nodded and went back to the cone. I figured that was the end of the conversation, but I was way off base, of course - as proved about twenty minutes later in the car.

"Libbs?"

"Yeah, Adds?" I started retaliating with that about a month prior, just to piss him off; it always worked.

"Rgh." See? "Um, I wanted to ask you something..."

"Fire away." His eyes never left the road, but I could tell he wouldn't have been looking at me anyway... especially once the question came out.

"Do you trust me?"

"I... what?"

He didn't repeat the question.

"Adymm, what are you talking about? Of course I do."

"Okay."

For some reason, I think he thought my answering his question ended this intriguing dialogue, but he had another thought coming. "Why would you ask me something like that?"

"It... it's nothing."

"That's a pretty accusatory 'nothing', you freak. You don't think I trust you?"

"No, I just... I wasn't sure."

"Why not?" I pleaded, feeling simultaneously hurt and incensed. "What did I do?"

He seemed to be glancing around a lot now... everywhere but at me. "Forget it, okay?"

"I will NOT! Now, I demand you tell me what this is about, or so help me I'll-"

"Westbridge."

The car was silent as he rolled up to a stoplight. Several seconds passed.

"That's what this is about," he said quietly.

"About... Westbridge?" I asked tentatively. "What about it?"

"You never wanna talk about it," he continued, finally glancing at me again. "Ever, at all. It's like the Feds came in and made you take an oath of silence about Christmas. Jesus, Libby, what the hell happened to you down there?"

"Up there," I muttered.

"What?"

"No, I mean... um, Massachusetts is North of here."

He glared at me. "And the point is a little East of where you are."

"Just saying..."

"Yeah," he sighed, easing onto the gas as the light finally turned green. "Just saying anything but what happened back home."

"It's..." I wanted to tell him. I wanted to spill my guts, to let slip everything I'd been keeping bottled up inside... but ridiculous or not, I was so afraid he wouldn't want anything to do with me if he found out! Besides, I had promised myself I wouldn't tell anybody until Sabrina was ready for people to know, too. "It's complicated."

"Hey, if I couldn't do complicated I wouldn't be a rock guitarist."

A long moment stretched on. Lights whizzed by, and I fiddled with my handbag. When I couldn't stand it anymore, I... well, I did exactly the wrong thing.

"You've got a lot of nerve prying like this! Seriously, Adymm, you should be sharp enough to tell that whatever it is may be a teensy bit sensitive, and therefore I'll tell you when I'm ready to! Dammit, can't a girl keep a few things to herself?! Now drop it!"

That only created a longer, more complete silence; the Aston Martin felt like a tomb, holding the remains of a nice evening, now cold and dead. It's too bad, too, because it had been so perfect up to that point.

When we got to my apartment, I got out quietly, one of my heels wedged deep in my throat. He didn't even get out to kiss me; he just pecked me on the cheek, whispered, "Goodnight, Libby," and gunned himself on home.

Yeah, the situation was FUBAR, alright. Why did I bite his head off like that? Sure, he was being nosy, but if anybody's entitled to all the facts... but that's not what's important. No matter what I was going to tell him (or not tell him), he didn't deserve that tongue-lashing. Really, he deserved to know the truth about the whole situation, and I swore right there that I'd tell him... someday. Someday when it wouldn't seem so huge.

For now, all I could do was crawl upstairs to my room; there was homework to be done in the morning before I ran off to class, and I wanted to have time to cry myself to a decent night's sleep.

Unfortuantely, when I got upstairs, I found out sleep would soon be the furthest thing from my mind.

"Libby, is that you?"

"Yeah, Dad."

"I'm glad you're home," he called from the kitchen; his voice was growing louder, though. "Listen, there's-"

"Please, I'm begging you, save it for morning," I groaned. "Tonight totally Hoovered, and I'd really just-"

"Well, maybe this will cheer you up," another voice said. A WHOLE OTHER voice. A voice I hadn't heard in forever...

"M... Mom?"

- i o i o i o i o i o i o i o i -
END Chapter Four