A/N: Hi, everyone. Sorry it's taken me so long to update. I work 50 hours a week right now. Also, I'm sorry for this POS chapter. But, again, I work 50 hours a week. Yes, I do intend to finish this story, even though my inspiration to write for LtM is basically nil at the moment.
Thank you for all of your reviews and your comments on this story. They're wonderful.
Cal sat back down at the table and tried to quell the sinking feeling he felt in his stomach, the pounding in his chest. He'd barely managed to get his heart rate down to normal when Gillian and Austin appeared back at the table. Gillian's smile caught a bit as her eyes traced over Cal's face. She furrowed her brow as she slid into her chair, never taking her eyes off his.
"You alright?" She asked, concern evident in her tone.
Cal nodded once. "Fine, love." He said, forcing a smile. Usually, hiding his emotions came easily to him, practiced as he was at it—but what he saw—and heard—out side between Gillian and Austin outside left him reeling and unable to perform as he usually did.
Gillian looked at him suspiciously out of the corner of her eye, but Cal watched as her face changed—he watched as she made the decision to let it go.
Austin's voice broke the eye contact Cal and Gillian had been maintaining. "Well," Austin sighed, I'm going to grab another beer." He announced. "Can I get anyone anything?" His eyebrows rose as he surveyed the table. Gillian shook her head, "Cal?"
Cal bit back the response forming in his gut—'Just Gillian back.'—Instead, he shook his head and offered Austin a quick and polite "No."
Gillian narrowed her eyes at Cal as Austin retreated. If she had made the decision to let it go, Cal's hesitation before answering Austin's question made her pick it up again. "What's going on with you?" She asked.
Cal leaned forward, invading Gillian's personal space as he was apt to do. "Have fun outside, then?" He asked, his mask falling directly into place. Gillian's eyes widened slightly, showing her surprise, her face flushed slightly and she opened her mouth to respond, the words catching in her throat. She closed her mouth and opened it to try again, but before the words could form, Melinda walked up to the table and slid into her chair—she had a smile on her face, which was slightly flushed.
Melinda settled into her chair with a huff—"No. Seriously. I really do hate everyone here. Hate. Strong word, I know, but I do. Everyone except you, Gilly." Melinda leaned forward and rested her head on her wrist, giving Gillian a full smile. "I've missed you."
Gillian smiled. "I've missed you too, Mel."
Melinda laughed, "Well. Great. Now that we've gotten all that out of the way, I'm off for another wine."
Gillian reached out and grabbed Melinda's arm, effectively stopping her from rising out of her chair.
"Uh uh." Gillian said, shaking her head and then laughing at the expression Melinda shot her. "No more alcohol for you." Gillian said, pointing a slender finger Melinda's way. Melinda started to protest, but Gillian spoke over her. "No. You, my friend, are a mean drunk." Melinda pouted, Gillian rolled her eyes, "A very mean drunk—lest I remind you of the last day of school Junior year?" Melinda looked down at the tablecloth in front of her—she hid a sheepish grin, "I thought so. And, considering the fact that you just declared your vehement hatred for a roomful of people—you're most definitely cut off."
Melinda slumped back in her chair and she narrowed her eyes at Gillian. "Fine." She said—"I still don't hate you, but I am mad at you right now. I don't know how I'm supposed to tolerate these people unless I'm mind-numbingly drunk. But, fine."
Gillian chuckled—and despite the way his mood had degenerated in the last hour and a half, Cal chuckled, too.
"Understandable." Gillian said, a smile playing on her face.
"And!" Melinda said, as though it were a most brilliant afterthought, "Just so you know, if I see him first, I'm going to kill him."
Gillian's smile faded quickly and Cal watched as an emotion he pinned as somewhere between dread and anger flickered over her face. Cal felt his adrenaline begin to surge as he looked at her. Even though he was unaware of the circumstances, he cold feel his anger—palpable through his body.
Gillian pursed her lips, "You won't be the first…"
Reading Melinda's confusion, Gillian exhaled and then explained "I saw him earlier."
Melinda exhaled heavily—"Fuck." She grew still. "What did you say?" She asked, worry etched into her face.
"Nothing. It was more of an 'in passing' type thing."
Melinda looked hard at Gillian. "Well, what'd he say to you?"
Gillian sighed. "Nothing. He didn't see me."
"Figures. What a surprise. Of course he didn't see you. I can't believe he even had the audacity to show up here in the first place!" Melinda shook her head, reflecting her utter disbelief.
"Yeah…Well." Gillian replied, her tone resigned.
"Before the night's over, I want you to tell him—tell him everything you told me graduation night, okay?" Melinda's gaze softened a bit as she seemingly reconsidered, "You still want that, right?"
Gillian squeezed her eyes shut, before she nodded once. "Yes." Her voice was quiet—finding the word was difficult.
Melinda nodded, and she radiated love—after a moment, Melinda started to get up, but Gillian tightened her grip on Melinda's arm. Melinda rolled her eyes. "I have to pee." Gillian narrowed her eyes, "Yes, I know you read faces for a living, and that so doesn't scare me, because I really do have to pee. I'll go right here in the chair, Gill. You know I will." Giving in, and stifling a laugh, Gillian released Melinda's arm.
Gillian leaned back into her chair with a sigh as Melinda walked away. Gillian could feel Cal's gaze on her, but she refused to look at him. Fixing her focus, instead, on the centerpiece in the middle of the table.
"Running away, are you?" Cal queried, his tone dark. Gillian steeled her aw and kept her focus. "Don't play this, Foster." He sighed, "It's too much. It's too much, and I need to know what's going on." Seeing her façade break a little, Cal pressed on—"I need to know where to put all of this anger I feel building up inside." Gillian finally looked at him—seeing the depth of his gaze, she felt her eyes start to water. She was hurting him. She didn't mean to, but she was. And Gillian hated to hurt anyone, let alone Cal. Seeing her start to waver, Cal spoke, "What happened, Gill?" He asked, allowing the desperation he felt to seep into his words, knowing she'd pick up on it.
Gillian continued to look at him. She felt the fear rise up in her body, manifesting itself as a massive lump in her throat which she struggled to swallow around. She was afraid to tell him for so many reasons. Cal watched as the fear situated itself onto her face.
With an unsteady voice, she spoke—"It's…tough, Cal."
"I can see that, love." He said, watching her intently.
"I just…I don't know where to begin." She smiled a little, feeling her stomach fill with knots decades old, "I'm not sure how to start."
Cal smiled at her, his voice comforting—"Begin at the beginning darling. Or start wherever's easiest, darling." Cal reached out and brushed the back of his hand along the top of her hand, "I'm easy like that, love."
Gillian bit back a smile at his double entendre, and Cal chuckled lightly, glad he could lighten the heaviness that had settled itself over the table, even if just a little bit.
Gillian inhaled sharply as she squeezed her eyes shut, "It was so long ago, Cal, I understand that. You have to understand that," She said, offering him a wry smile—"But this… reunion. This… coming back here has reminded me how fresh it was."
"I'm sorry for that, darling." Cal said, caressing her hand lightly. He'd dragged her here—unknowingly bringing her back into a world she'd apparently spent her entire life trying to escape.
Gillian shook her head—"No. Don't feel bad, Cal. Really and truly. It's something I need to face—it's something I've needed to face for a long time, no matter how much I don't want to."
Cal simply nodded, understanding what she was trying to convey. She didn't blame him. Not for this, anyway.
"So, how does it start, Gillian? What happened all those years ago?"
Gillian directed her eyes to their hands, still connected. She couldn't look at him when she said this. The words came out, one by one, quietly—"I was 15—a sophomore, actually. And there was this senior boy. He really was the talk of the town—literally—football star, really great guy…" Gillian trailed off, and Cal listened intently, a weight laying itself across his chest.
Gillian opened her mouth to speak, but just then, there was a commotion behind her—several audible gasps that drew both Gillian's and Cal's attention. Gillian turned her head slightly over her shoulder, only to see Melinda pushing through the crowd.
What she saw next, however, made her want to laugh and cry at the same time. Melinda, face red with anger and exertion, was dragging a medium sized man through the crowd of people, until she came to a stop in front of their table.
"Gillian." Melinda said, "I found him. I found the son-of-a-bitch."
Gillian sighed, "I can see that, Melinda." Part of her wanted to be mad at Melinda—but the other part of her had known the woman since they were babies—the other part of her knew Melinda was trying to help in her own sweet, albeit in-your-face sort of way.
Cal saw the man, looking slightly disheveled, and though he didn't know the story, he had to work to control his anger to keep himself from hauling off and hitting the guy.
"Gillian," The man said, unable—perhaps unwilling—to look her in the eyes.
"Steven." She said, her tone cutting.
Cal was shocked—he'd never heard Gillian speak a name with such venom.
Watching the exchange, Melinda released Steven's arm, and stepped a considerable distance away from the man.
"I don't…" Steven started, everyone in the room was watching the scene unfold. He shut his eyes tightly before he opened them again to continue… "I don't know what to say."
"Imagine that." Gillian retorted, "Steven doesn't know what to say after all of these years—he sure as hell won't lead with the one thing he's still never said." Gillian could feel the anger coursing through her veins, but she suddenly remembered she had an audience. Unwilling to create a scene, she turned to Cal. "I'll tell you everything when I get back." Cal shoved his hands in his pockets, and looked at her hard, "Hey." She said, tilting her head to the side. "I promise." She raised her eyebrows in silent question. Cal answered with a nod. "Steven." She said, her tone icy, "Outside. We're going to have a conversation." She said, "It might be twenty years too late, but we're going to have it." She said—and she motioned for Steven to walk in front of her before turning to the crowd that had formed—"And we'll be having it alone." She said to the sea of familiar faces.
She found Melinda's face in the crowd, and Gillian saw Melinda's eyes glistening with tears—Melinda nodded, almost imperceptibly—pride emanating from her body.
As she walked with purpose behind Steven into the night, she hoped she'd find the strength to say the things she never did.
TBC
