(Chapter 11)
(The Proposal and the Breakdown)
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Two weeks in paradise felt a lot like two years in a guilty hell. The Bahamas were open arms to workaholics and newlyweds, or workaholic-newlyweds, and against Chad's guilt over the past, he was happy to have some time away from anything remotely related with the name Shar and Pay . Rachel, stressed from her job as a bio-technician, found the beach a welcomed friend, and spent the majority of her time with Chad on white sand.
However, back at home, Chad's frustration and guilt were a constant reminder of his unhappiness.
He loved Rachel, he knew he did, but he loved her for the wrong reasons. He couldn't treat Rachel like this for much longer; it was unfair to her, and he knew they'd both end up miserable.
He wanted Sharpay; he had decided on her eight years ago.
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-- Summer after East High Senior Year
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At ninety degrees, the summer night was strip poker hot, a mixture of warm air, lanterns, booths, bodies, and a general murmur of a good time. The annual Albuquerque Summer Festival had been booming with hundreds of high schoolers and kids since ten that morning. Music could be heard over the rapid conversations of teens and the giggling of kids.
The majority of the East High gang could be seen near the fountains, goofing off and cherishing the summer night, because, of course, school would be starting in a month. Err. College. Military school. Rite-Aide. To each his own.
Missing from the group was Chad, who had disappeared to an obnoxiously colorful bridge hanging over a manmade and rather ugly-looking stream. His hand was laced with Sharpay's, and the two walked in unison.
"Do you know what you're gonna pack yet?" Chad asked as the two came to a stop. Sharpay pressed her back into the railing, and Chad gladly leaned into her, wrapping his arms around her neck. Sharpay was leaving for AMDA, The American Musical and Dramatic Academy, about two weeks before Chad's first day at UCLA came into the picture.
Sharpay settled into Chad's hold, smirking. "For AMDA? Oh, everything. I don't want to be stuck there without, you know, necessities."
"Hair straightener and lipstick?"
"No, my stilettos and convertible."
Both broke into a short laughter, comforted by the other's familiarity. Together for over a year, the couple, despite their occupations, had grown close because of their similarities and their confidence. College proved the one thing strong enough to separate Chad and Sharpay, and both were taking the inevitable severance with a stubborn heart.
Chad smiled as he leaned in for a kiss, pressing his lips to Sharpay lightly. "I love you," he said quietly, and Sharpay smirked at him with amusement, responding with the same three words, her arms at his shoulders, her body against his.
"Mm, maybe AMDA'll be too easy for you. UCLA would love their own Sharpay," Chad said, quietly upset they'd half to break up after the summer ended.
Sharpay rolled her eyes. "As fabulous as Uuk-laa sounds, I'm actually looking forward to AMDA."
"You roommate's gonna be some crazy cheerleader obsessed with neat laundry."
"Oh, damn, and I here I was hoping for a nympho party-girl."
"Can't win all the time, babe."
They smirked at each other, and Chad propelled them across the bridge before they stopped a final time. The area was empty, warm and comfortable, and Chad swallowed with a bit of nervousness as he took Sharpay's hand.
"Hey," he said, "I've been meaning to talk to you about something."
Sharpay leaned into his grip. "Oh, yeah?"
"Yeah," he said, his voice leaving any playfulness behind. "I don't want to break up after this summer."
Sharpay gave him an odd look at his suddenness, but said nothing.
Chad read her silence as motivation to continue forward. "I think we should get married instead." A slight breeze picked up, moving Sharpay's bangs from her face. Chad's eyes were caught with hers, and although Sharpay's silence had driven him earlier, her continued stare only scared him. "Please marry me, Sharpay," he whispered, taking out a ring from his pocket, a ring he had spent his entire summer savings on.
The ring was surprisingly breathtaking, showing Chad was more attentive to a girl's idea of beauty than his stereotyped personality allowed. He held the ring in front of her, his own heart a sickened mess as he awaited a response.
Sharpay closed her eyes, swallowed, and said quite clearly, "No."
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"They played our song," Sharpay said listlessly. Michelle raised an eyebrow.
She asked, "What?"
"They played our song," Sharpay repeated, her voice in a whispered monotone. Michelle put down her magazine and reached across the café table, taking Sharpay's hand.
"I meant," she amended, "why did I just hear those words coming out of your mouth?" Sharpay pulled away sharply and grabbed her tea mug (it had a graffiti pattern that she liked and always got). Michelle continued as Sharpay brought the steaming cup to her mouth, "You didn't even break into song on that one."
Sharpay swallowed, and rasped, "I didn't feel like it."
Michelle reached again, taking Sharpay's mug and blowing on the liquid. "Don't do that," she chastised. "Stop trying to scald your mouth."
"Why?" Sharpay growled.
"I really hope that was rhetorical." Michelle sighed. "I thought you said it wasn't a big deal."
"It wasn't."
"That you didn't really like Rachel."
"I don't."
"Or Chad."
"He's an idiot."
"I thought you were okay."
"I'm not."
"I'm sick of playing you," Michelle said, as a last resort, really uncomfortable with being the aggressor in this relationship.
Sharpay replied, "I'm sick of playing me, too." She finally looked up and met Michelle's eyes. "I'm sick of being depressed," she said. "I'm sick of letting...letting him control my life. I'm sick of saying stupid things like 'they played our song.' I'm sick, 'chelle."
Michelle took her hand again, and passed marginally cooler mug back across the table. "This isn't healthy," she said, as Sharpay took a large sip. "Why didn't you just tell me?"
"It doesn't matter. I thought I was okay. Obviously, I'm not."
"You're ruining your voice with this. When was the last time you practiced?"
Sharpay shrugged. "Before I left, I think."
"Two weeks?" Michelle almost yelped. "What the hell?"
"Oh shut up, it's my damn voice," Sharpay snapped. "God," she muttered. "God, when I'd gone to college, I never expected to get you as my roommate."
"God," Michelle mimicked. "God, when I'd graduated, I never expected you to turn into this."
"I have success."
"You don't have a Tony."
"I'm happy."
"You're burning the skin off the inside of your mouth."
"I'm—" Michelle arrested Sharpay's wrist with her hand, and dragged the blonde up. "What the hell?"
"Come on. Come on, we're going home."
"I don't—"
"Come on."
Sharpay could feel it rising in her as Michelle lead her, firmly hand in hand, through the city blocks of New York (she didn't need to be lead; she could go anywhere with her eyes closed in this city). It was dark, it was gnawing, and it hurt, it did, that black space behind her ribcage, and she fought hard against it, because it was just too personal now.
She hoped Chad was happy, but knew he wasn't, because who would be happy with that obvious imitation? But at least Chad had Troy; she didn't have anyone except Ryan, and Ryan was fucking married, happy-fucking-ly married, and even if he did know the full story, he wouldn't have any words that she hadn't heard before.
Michelle pulled her down to the subway.
"'chelle—" Sharpay started weakly.
"Shut up." Who the hell was the band? Sharpay wondered. Who plays "Breakfast at Tiffany's" at a wedding? She hated Chad for getting married, for loving her, for dancing with her, for following her to the balcony, she hated him, and she didn't have enough energy to waste on that.
Michelle got them both out, and started down the street. "Come on," she muttered, tugging Sharpay's hand. Key in hand, she opened the door of Sharpay's apartment, pulled them both in, and locked the door. Sharpay stood tiredly in the middle of her own living room, almost too tired and apathetic to move.
"Sit," Michelle commanded, and led Sharpay to the couch, sitting beside her. "Talk."
"Doesn't this sort of thing call for ice cream and Meg Ryan OD?" Sharpay asked.
Michelle almost smiled. "You're coming back. But first."
"First nothing."
"Stop being so damn evasive." Michelle angled her neck so that she could see Sharpay's face. "You lie to everyone but yourself, and I'm sick of you lying to me."
"God, I hate to sound like I'm in third grade, but make me," Sharpay demanded, but her voice broke.
Michelle twisted her lip, unsure of what to do. The thing was, Sharpay didn't know what she was supposed to do, either, so Michelle extended her arms hesitantly and wrapped them around Sharpay awkwardly, the blonde's shoulder digging into the brunette's chest.
"What are you doing?" Sharpay asked.
"I'm hugging you, dammit. Give me something to work with." Sharpay twisted uncomfortably, allowing Michelle to pull her head down so it rested between her neck and the back of the couch. "Okay."
"I think I'm getting hip dysplasia," Sharpay said.
"I think I'm sick of being you, so let's just get this over with."
"How?"
Michelle rested her cheek against Sharpay's hair, and thought. Beneath her, Sharpay breathed steadily. She didn't know how much longer she could go on, in lurch over Chad. It was stupid, she realized. It was stupid, and she would not think about it anymore, because it was ruining her voice and ruining her life and no one got to do that. She was better than this.
"Hey," Michelle said.
"What?"
"If he'd asked you. If he'd asked you to marry him, at the wedding, or like...I mean, if he asked you to marry him right now, and the last eight years didn't happen, what would you say?"
Sharpay breathed some more, trying to keep a pattern as she struggled with an answer. "I said no," she blurted out, and almost slapped herself for the past tense.
Michelle nodded and didn't catch the slip, which Sharpay was eternally grateful for. "You wouldn't commit."
"I don't know if I would, now."
"Did you know that when you were 18?" Michelle asked.
Sharpay exhaled raggedly, "Maybe."
"You left him."
"We left each other." Sharpay let tears prickle her eyelids for a few seconds before blinking them back, because it was stupid, stupid, stupid to go on. "God, it's just..."
"I got you," Michelle reassured, tightening her arms.
Sharpay breathed again. "I'm sorry."
"You're never sorry."
"Pretend. I'm sorry. I'm sorry that I'm being so not myself. I'm...god, why are you still here? I've been so melodramatic, how can you stand it?"
"This is showbiz," Michelle explained. "And people like you and me are hard to find." Her breath stirred Sharpay's hair. "And we're friends. And even if you have the emotional capacity of a slug, we're still friends. And that means that I'm here. I don't know what to do, I'll never know what to do, but I'll try, dammit. And no matter where you go, you selfish bitch, and no matter what you do, I will be here, like a stupid, devoted dog, because I am your friend."
"And it doesn't matter that you're better than me," Sharpay added.
"And it doesn't matter that you occasionally try to use false modestly to fish for compliments."
Sharpay sniffed, her head feeling woozy from its position. "What now?"
"Ice cream," Michelle said definitively. She let Sharpay up, and wiped away a single refugee tear without saying anything. "Ice cream and Meg Ryan."
Chad, Sharpay decided, deserved one day of ice cream and Meg Ryan before he got pushed away, perpetually the one that got away that she could never have had to begin with. "What about Chad?" she asked.
"He's Chad. He's married. And you wouldn't want him even if he wasn't married. And...and you'll never see him again. So. Let it lie." Sharpay nodded. "Okay? Just...let it go."
"Okay. Get me some ice cream, dog."
Michelle smiled. "You'll be fine."
"I'm not now."
"No. But you will be. You've just been...you've been stunted at the age of 18." Michelle stood. "You have to grow up."
"Sing with me tomorrow?" Sharpay asked. She almost never let anyone practice with her, but somehow, facing tomorrow seemed a little too much. Chad was gone tomorrow. Clean slate. She wanted—needed something else. Something, anything, and she'd be fine, she'd get the sick taste out of her mouth, she'd play with Ella all day, she'd find Sarah and her eternal stack of scripts. Michelle nodded.
Eight years ago, she'd made a decision. Sharpay Evans wasn't one to regret decisions.
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StarVitaminSee? Chad's not hung up on Sharpay for nothing. She turned him down! Spurned him! Boo. Wow, this chapter is insanely overdue. Thank you guys for sticking with us! Anyway, Robin's half of the chapter is exactly how Sharpay should always be written. It blew me away and off a cliff.
TehFuzzyPenguinSo--Sharpay breaks down. Hmmm...well, at least she's faced it, and that's the first step. And now we know exactly why they're having such a hard time (marriage proposal scene--fantastic). Annnndddd...there's something about Michelle that I didn't even realize until I reread what I wrote. That'll be made more clear later. Until then, thanks for reading, and for leaving comments! We love them all.