Wow, I cannot believe that this chapter is finally done. This is far and above the most that I have ever written for a story. I was in a weird mood last night when I wrote the majority of this, so if it sounds kind of different, that's why. I'm hoping it's a good different. This story was full of so much angst that I wanted to inject a little more levity into it. I hope you guys like the change in tone.
I wanted to give a big thank you to all of the people who reviewed last chapter. I know it's hard to review a chapter without Delena scenes, so I'm extra grateful to the people who left me their thoughts.
I also want to thank my friend, sounding board, and amazing writer Cher Sue for letting me use parts of her life to create this chapter. And if you don't like the change in my tone with this chapter, blame her, it's all her fault. Her humor is contagious. Also if you liked the length of this chapter, you should blame her for that too, because that is also all her fault. Anyways, I hope you all enjoy.
All she does is stand there, literally still as a statue, holding her position. Elena Gilbert has the balls to confront a caged vampire who basically told her to shove it two hours ago. But once she has a chance to speak her mind, she becomes a damn mime, without all those helpful hand gestures. Talk about your contradictions. Some holding pattern has frozen Elena in her tracks as she waits patiently for me to do something. I can't figure out what she expects to happen, but a minute passes and she keeps on waiting. Waiting on me to speak, to yell, or to supply whatever answers she's clearly searching for. Either way, if I want to leave this room before my 200th birthday, it's clear that I need to make the first move in this conversation.
I run through the possible scenarios in my head as Elena stands patiently in the doorway gently grasping the mystery package in her hands. In some versions I evade, in some I yell, and in some I actually apologize. Although my personal favorite is where I throw her onto the bed and ravish her body until one of us collapses from exhaustion or we go mad from blood deprivation, whichever affliction occurs first.
But once I start thinking with my brain instead of the less intelligent part of my anatomy, I follow my thoughts to their natural conclusion. And once I do, I realize that the end result is always the same. She leaves in every single one of them. Either she runs because I push or her away, or because she realizes that I'm not her knight in shining armor, and I never will be. So I put on a mask, a shield, to protect us both from the inevitable wreckage of when this goes south, because it will. It's only a matter of time. Once Elena sees that I don't hate her anymore, maybe that'll be enough. Maybe in time, she'll realize that it's better for us both to just cut our losses and run as far away from the dreaded 'us' conversation as possible. Then again, when has Elena ever listened to anything I've said?
My gut reaction is to start with evasion. It's my standard go to position, and with my witty charm it usually works to at least stall whatever emotional showdown that Elena has planned. So I flash my signature smirk, and try to throw Elena off balance with some not so innocent ribbing.
"While I have always had this fantasy of a hot female prison guard cuffing me to the bed," I joke playfully, "I really don't need supervision to make sure I don't split town. Judgey's spell packed quite a punch. I flew about three feet in the air and landed on my ass after running into her little force field."
Elena's eyes drift downward in shame at the mention of her morally ambiguous choice to trap me here. "I'm sorry that it went that far, but I didn't think you would take my calls, and I was worried I'd never see you again if you left," she explains regretfully.
"What's a little forced imprisonment between friends," I dismiss casually. Elena smiles and rolls her eyes at my attempt at humor. She's not even trying to hide it.
"At least I let you wander the entire town," she reminds me, in greatly elevated spirits, relieved that I don't appear angry anymore. "As I recall when you had Bonnie do the same spell on me, I wasn't even allowed to go outside."
This is nice, fun even. My evasion is working brilliantly. Joking and mockery was always what we were best at. It's only when things got real that the situation becomes more complicated. I'm enjoying it too much to let our back and forth end so soon, because I know what happens when the laughter stops, and I'm not ready for that just yet.
"What can I say? You're obviously a much more humane warden than I am," I explain smugly, taking far too much pride in my forced imprisonment plan that had now come back to bite me in the ass. I honestly don't know how I didn't think of it sooner. Locking Elena in her own house solved so many problems. My only mistake was letting her leave. Note to self: Improve follow through in plans. Second note to self: Don't let Elena out of house without adult supervision. Historically speaking, bad mojo tends to follow Elena whenever she's in charge of the planning phases of anything.
As I deliberate on more effective methods of keeping Elena safe from herself, she's made herself right at home in my room. She walks carefully past me and places the mystery gift on the bed, and then find a spot there herself. Flashing red warning lights are going off in my head. She's not mocking me anymore, and she's lost her laughing smile. Instead it's replaced with a softer smile that she uses on special occasions. I like to call it the sympathy smile. Usually she breaks it out when she's about to hug me or give some speech about caring about me. I don't act fast enough to come up with an adequate diversion, and she starts the 'real' portion of our conversation. My evasion skills must be lacking. Third note to self: improve diversion tactics.
"You've certainly done a 180 since the last time I saw you," Elena notices gratefully. "What happened to go to Hell?"
"I had an enlightening conversation with a slutty elf," I answer seriously as Elena's face scrunches up in confusion.
"What?"
"Caroline," I elaborate with the only explanation needed. Who else would be dressed up as a slutty elf? Silence fills the room, and I resolve to get this 'talk' over with, because apparently it's inevitable. "I'm sorry about Stefan," I offer sincerely. She looked for him for months. They fought through more than any relationship should have to bear, and now she thinks it's over. Only someone with an intimate knowledge of heartbreak can understand how much that must hurt. Elena flashes a grateful smile as she stares at the tips of her shoes.
"Are you really?" She asks unexpectedly, searching for answers on my face.
"I'm sorry that you're unhappy," I answer quasi-honestly. It's not what she was really asking, but it's enough for her to drop the issue.
"Is that all that Caroline told you?" Elena's voice rises as it gains a certain hope to it as I lose myself in her deep brown eyes. It's only for a moment and then I snap out of it, and put the mask back on. Indifference and levity is the only way to escape from this room unscathed, and I'm determined to cling to them.
"She might have mentioned something about you drunkenly confessing your undying love for me, you know in passing," I awkwardly admit. Once I do Elena's entire face lights up. I don't know if I've ever seen her so happy. It's like telling a small child that Christmas came early and Santa was planning on giving them double presents this year.
"So you believe me?" Elena asks in disbelief and joyful hope. "You believe that I love you?" I carefully choose my words as I keep a necessary distance from Elena's position on the bed. Getting too close will only make this harder.
"I believe that you believe it, yes," I answer cautiously, not wanting to give too much away. The smile disappears, and her face noticeably drops down at my reply. She starts fidgeting, twirling her thumbs around in circles.
"That's not exactly the same thing though is it?" Elena questions with a bittersweet smile joining her tragically broken spirit.
"No, it's not," I admit simply, more disappointed than I care to admit. "But I need you to know that I am sorry for blowing up at you earlier. I was a dick when I yelled at you like that. It's been a bad month, bad year, bad century, and my frustrations all exploded at once." Elena doesn't even pause before responding.
"Forget it," she replies instantly. "Lord knows I probably owe you half a dozen apologies by now, and it's not like I didn't have it coming."
I have no idea what possesses me to do this, but looking at Elena's slumped shoulders and defeated expression, I can't help but want to fix it, make it better in some small way.
"Not that it's your business," I remind her with a slightly hard edge to my voice, "but nothing happened between me and that April girl. She was drunk and I was giving her a ride home. She might have gotten a little too touchy feely when the alcohol went to her head, but that's as far as it was going to go."
Elena perks right up at my unnecessary explanation. She's not my girlfriend, but somehow I felt the need to justify my actions, like being with April in that way was something to be ashamed of. That feeling was sparking a slight return of my anger. Elena's next question only adds gasoline to the fire.
"So you didn't want her?" Elena asks optimistically, holding her breath until I answer.
"No," I confess with frustration building in my voice, "but even if I had, even if I intended to take her home, marry her, and make her my love slave for all eternity, you still have no right to dictate to me who I can and can't sleep with, especially since I don't think there is a woman alive that you'd approve of me having sex with. I think you've vetoed all women, so unless I make a rather drastic lifestyle change and start sleeping with men, I may never get laid again if you have it your way," I vent in a brief puff of anger. The aggravation at Elena's actions evaporates instantly with three unexpected words.
"There's always me," Elena offers softly. Blatant insecurity laces her every word as if she isn't the sun, moon, and stars to every man in this town. "It's a short list, and I'm not sure if you'd want me after all that I've put you through, but I give you permission to sleep with me."
I sigh tiredly to myself as I relent and sit down next to her on the bed. "Elena, I'm not saying that one night with you wouldn't be the highlight of the year, of my whole damn life, but I can't do it, because I'd always want more." I've already revealed far more to her than is wise. I might as well become a damn open book at this point.
"I told you I love you," Elena points out in aggravation. "I broke up with Stefan. I want more too," she swears emphatically.
"For how long?" I ask the million dollar question. "You and Stefan have broken up before. He threatened to drive you off a bridge and you still went back to him," I jog her memory in a more callous manner than is necessary.
"It's different this time," she promises defiantly. "You weren't there. I let him go."
"Right," I reply sarcastically, "sort of like how you let Stefan go after homecoming and then a month later were begging him to feel again. Or maybe it's like when you promised that you were letting me go, and then later that night asked me to cuddle. This isn't meant as a judgment, but you kind of suck at letting people go. If there was grade that I could assign you for your closure skills, you'd get like an F. Worse than that, you'd get a double F. I would literally have to make up new letters to describe how bad you are at it."
"You don't get it," Elena screams, defensive and angry.
"Then explain it to me," I push harder, trying desperately to understand.
"I was miserable with Stefan," Elena confesses with teary eyes. "I was walking on egg shells, trying not to rock the boat, and I was genuinely unhappy. All Stefan saw when he looked at me was the girl that he used to know, but when you looked at me, all you ever saw was me."
Somehow this girl can make me go from furiously angry, to belligerent, to soft cuddly puppy in about sixty seconds flat. She has super powers, I'm sure of it, and they have nothing to do with being a vampire. So with an uneasy acceptance, I drop the mask, just long enough to help her understand.
"I'm not saying that I think you're lying about caring about me," I compromise graciously. "I'm not even saying that you don't love me, but I just can't believe that you're in love with me."
"Why?" Elena asks simply with her best empathetic voice. "Everyone else in this town, your brother, my friends, my brother, they all believe that I'm in love with you. Why can't you?"
"Now you're the one who doesn't get it," I charge belligerently.
"Well to quote you, explain it to me," she fires back.
"Now," I emphasize strongly, "you love me now? After a year and a half of knowing me, after a year and a half of rejecting me and choosing Stefan, how could I possibly believe that your feelings have miraculously changed and you love me now? So forgive me if I see this as nothing more than a passing phase."
"Damon . . ."
"No," I stop her abruptly. "It's okay. I'm not mad. I don't blame you, but whatever you're feeling it's not love. When you've worked through this rough patch with Stefan, or once you've adjusted to your vampire emotions, you'll realize that this was lust, friendship, devotion, whatever you want to call it. . ."
"I like to call it being in love with you," she cuts in harshly.
"Elena . . ."
"No," Elena bellows, standing her ground with a fierce determination. "You had your talking turn. You said a bunch of bullshit, and now it's my turn. You've lost your speaking privileges by talking crazy. I LOVE you. I'm IN LOVE with you. I don't care how many times I have to say it for it to penetrate your abnormally thick skull, but I'll keep saying it till you believe me and every day after that. You think this is about lust? Do you really think that I would end a relationship with a man that you claim I'm still in love with if all I wanted you for was your body."
She's nothing if not persuasive, but I attempt to redirect her attention to the important issues. "Being a new vampire can be a confusing time," I explain rationally. "The lines of what you feel can blur together. Lust can easily be confused for love."
Her eyes are now burning with fire, threatening to consume the entire room. "I did not reinstate your speaking privileges," Elena scolds, "because you're still talking crazy." She takes a beat before continuing in her little rant. "I'll admit that I want to sleep with you. I've dreamed of doing an innumerable list of dirty things to you practically from the moment that I met you, but that's not why I'm fighting for you."
What the fuck, now she has me thinking about her doing dirty things to me. What was I doing again? Right, I was trying to convince her that that is a bad idea . . . for some reason I'm sure I'll remember later.
"It isn't?" I reply, trying to act like her rant didn't fill my mind with dirty images of my own. "And here I thought it was because I was irresistible," I joke dismissively.
"You are," Elena states brazenly, and more honest than I've ever seen her, "but not because you're ridiculously hot, or because your abs look like they were sculpted from marble."
And my ego grew three sizes that day, I think to myself as Elena extols the virtues of my physical appearance. "You're irresistible because of who you are not what you look like," she explains. Her last comment tugs sharply on my heart, right up until she causes me to nearly fall over laughing. "It certainly doesn't hurt that you look like sex on a stick, but I want your heart more than I want your . . . um"
"My . . . um, what?" I tease her mercilessly. Elena's face blushes in three distinct shades of red, and I take a mental picture, so I can enjoy every single one of them at a later date.
"Your penis," she whispers at last. "There I said it. Happy now? I want your heart more than I want your penis," her voice reaches a pitch that only dogs can hear, and I fail miserably at containing my laughter.
"I didn't even know that you used dirty words," I state, feigning shock. "Frankly I'm scandalized Miss Gilbert." Now she's laughing as well, either at herself or at me. I'm not sure either of us cares.
"Did I offend your delicate sensibilities?" Elena mocks effortlessly. "I'm so sorry. I promise in the future that my dirty talk will be much more dignified."
With one word, reality sneaks right past us and lets out a mighty roar. Future, at the moment, Elena and I have very different concepts about what our futures will bring. Elena is convinced that we're destined to be together, and I'm convinced that I need to get the Hell out of dodge. We're at what most people could call an impasse. It's hard to mistake the obvious shift in the air, and Elena feels it too. Which is why she doesn't look surprised when I put a damper on our previously happy conversation.
"There isn't going to be a next time," I break it to her gently, "because I'm leaving, once you get witchy to lift this spell." Elena's face sets hard, and her heels dig in so deep, I'm surprised she hasn't damaged my floor by now.
"Bonnie isn't lifting any spell just so you can run away," Elena shouts rebelliously.
"I'm not running away," I counter, pitifully.
"That's exactly what you're doing," Elena claims assuredly. "You're scared. You don't want to get hurt again, so you're protecting yourself, from me, from love, and from anything that could hurt you." Her eyes, which hold such protectiveness, determination, and life itself, cut through me like a knife. Predictably, I dig right back in, matching her charge for charge.
"It's called self-preservation honey," I admit darkly. I might as well call it what it is. It's not like I'm any good at lying to her. Elena's face can change just as quickly as my mood. I must have super powers too, because she softens at my confession. She takes my hand, and I let her, too exhausted to fight it anymore. Elena uses her other to caress my cheek with the backside of her knuckles. It is such a tender gesture, that I struggle not to melt into it and stay strong.
"For as long as I've known you, you've always seemed fearless," Elena remarks proudly. "You've risked your life more times than I can count, so why won't you take a chance on me?" Her vulnerability shines through in that moment. She's already heard one Salvatore refuse to take that chance when it mattered, and I can't bring myself to push her further away, not yet, not like this.
"If I thought there was a chance," I admit with difficult, "even a one percent chance that you really loved me that you really wanted me over everyone else, I'd take that risk for you, but I don't. I can't. So I'm asking you Elena, if you really care about me, please just let me go," I plead in a desperate attempt to break through her stubbornness. It's impossible not to see the first tears fall down her beautiful face, and on instinct, I wipe them from her cheek as she stares back at me, her brown eyes meeting my blue ones, trapping them both in a trance.
"Don't ask me that, please?" She begs right back.
"You can't keep me captive here forever," I remind her sadly.
"I don't want to," she claims.
"What do you want?" I ask, trying to find some sort of win-win scenario in this fucked up situation.
"You," she answers plainly. "All I want is you." I look away, trying to hide from her probing eyes.
"Anything a little simpler?" I question wishfully. A spark ignites behind Elena's eyes at my suggestion, an idea that is just starting to take shape.
"I want a chance to prove to you that I love you," Elena proposes diplomatically. Great we're still stuck on that love thing. Isn't she over that yet? I'd expected this phase to last maybe a few hours, possibly the end of the day tops. She seems unusually fixated.
"How exactly do you plan to do that," I question skeptically, "sign from God?"
"Give me a week," she replies, "one week to prove to you how I feel. If after that you still think that I'm lying or mistaken, I'll get Bonnie to lift the spell and you'll be free to go. No one will stop you."
She's giving me an out. A beautiful shot at freedom, and all I have to do is wait her out for a week, but I can't help feeling like there's a catch attached to this deal.
"And if by some miracle you convince me that your feelings are real, what then?" I inquire suspiciously.
"If at the end of the week you believe me, then no more running, for either of us. After that, it's you and me, forever," Elena declares confidently.
"You can't imagine the true length of eternity," I caution.
"Maybe not," she accepts quickly. "I'm 18 years old, and I'm barely to the point where I understand what immortality truly means, but I think there's a more important issue at the moment than my concept of forever."
"What's that?"
Elena's confident exterior fades into my memory as she looks at me in a state of fear, eyeing me as if any second I will crush her beneath my feet.
"If you could," Elena begins, "if you believed that I loved you, would you want eternity with me? Could you promise to love me forever?"
"Yes," I respond without a thought. Elena releases a sigh of relief, and bites her lip to guard against the smile threatening to overtake her mouth.
"So could I," she agrees elatedly. "Hopefully by the end of this week, you'll realize that I love you just as much as you love me, even if I have a sucky way of showing it sometimes."
"I can't say as if I'll be holding my breath," I confess, "but I'd be lying if I said that I didn't want you to prove me wrong."
"So we have a deal?" Elena asks as she offers me her hand so we can shake on it.
"Against my better judgment, yes," I give in without further argument, "you have a week."
"Good," Elena exclaims with a renewed sense of happiness, "so now that you've stopped being a stubborn pain in the ass, you can open your present."
In the midst of all the talk about feelings and supposed love, I'd forgotten all about the large wrapped box that Elena had walked in with. I am awfully curious to see what's inside. Presents aren't something that I've had since I was still human. Stefan and I were never really on good enough terms to exchange gifts for birthdays, and no one else would've bothered.
"Is this a reward system?" I joke lightly. "Are you trying to condition me like you would a dog?"
"No," Elena replies with an eager grin on her face.
"I realize I never told you my birthday, but you do know it's not Halloween?"
"This isn't a birthday present," Elena answers quickly. "It's an I'm sorry for acting kind of dickish present." She's clearly been spending way too much time around me if she's using the familiar word that I typically use to describe myself.
"So I get presents now when you screw up?"
"Yes," Elena agrees, "but it depends on how bad. I spent several weeks lying to you about how I felt, so I thought a present was appropriate," she elaborates as if it is the most obvious thing in the world.
"So if you drink the last blood bag in the house without replacing it, then I don't get a present?" I clarify in my usual smart ass manner. All Elena does is smirk right back at me and moves on.
"No," she clarifies, "that is not a present worthy screw up, although it might be worthy of I'm sorry sex."
At this point, I'm very grateful that I wasn't drinking or eating anything when she told me that, or I might have choked on my own tongue.
"So if I agree to date you, and you screw up, you'll have sex with me as an apology?" I repeat in a state of disbelief. Elena isn't fazed at all by this. Who is this girl, and what has she done with Ms. Repression?
"Because I'd be your girlfriend, I'd have sex with you for all sorts of reasons," Elena informs me casually, "but I might do kinkier stuff if I was in trouble."
Apparently I can never eat or drink in her presence again if she's going to say stuff like that. Images flash through me head in brilliant color. Not only was Elena talking about having sex with me, but she was open to kinky sex. Cyborg, replicant, personality transplant, I think as I run through the only possible explanations for Elena's sudden transformation. She always told me she was more fun before her parents died, but I never expected this. I like this. I could get on board with this I think before mentally slapping myself upside the head.
"You're not making this easy," I confess.
"Because now you're thinking about having sex with me?" Elena states as she hits the nail on the head.
"Pretty much," I admit as I try to wipe those thoughts from my mind.
"I'm going to make it even harder when you see your present," she promises excitedly.
I rip open the wrapping paper like a six year old on his birthday, and I pull the mystery present out of the tissue paper.
"It's uh . . . what is it?" I ask, confused, as I stare dumbly at my first present in over a century.
"Isn't it obvious?" Elena asks, slightly disappointed.
"There is nothing obvious about this present," I state bluntly. I regret it once I see Elena flinch at my comment.
"It's a stuffed hippo," she finally answers as if that explains everything. Sure enough, it is a stuffed hippo. It is a dull shade of yellow, and Elena even went so far as to clothe the soft animal. Shocked doesn't even begin to cover my confusion at the most unique present I've ever gotten.
"That's what I thought . . . Not to sound ungrateful, but why did you buy me a stuffed hippo?"
"Because the stock boy said they were all out of stuffed bears," Elena replies matter of factly.
"Ahh, now it's much clearer," I fake understanding, not wanting to hurt her feelings at this bizarre gift.
"I wanted to buy you those bears that say I love you beary much, but apparently they only sell those during Valentine's Day."
"So instead you went with hippo?"
"Yes," she replies proudly.
"It was certainly a bold choice," I concede. "I'll give you that."
"Don't you like it?" Elena asks me in a delicate, vulnerable tone. I stare down at the thing, and I'm convinced that I hate it. I'm a man for God sakes. You don't buy men teddy bears or stuffed hippos, but then I catch a glimpse at the hippo's eyes, and they hold the same warmth and doe eyed hazel tint that Elena's do. I can't help but wonder if that's why she picked it. I'm ashamed to say that I love it. I've fallen in love with a stuffed hippo. I think I can officially cease calling myself a man. After my long silence, Elena grows increasingly worried that I hate her gift, so quickly correct her.
"Oh, no, I do," I respond insistently. "I love it, but remind me again, other than the stuffed bear shortage, why did you buy me a stuffed hippo?" Elena's face breaks out in a nostalgic glow as she recounts the memory to me.
"Don't you remember this summer when I was staying at the boardinghouse all the time and I was missing Mr. Cuddles, because my mom gave him to me, and I had slept with him since I was little? You bought me another teddy bear to keep over here as a substitute. I named her Mrs. Cuddles, because she has a tiny pink bow in her hair."
I can't help but smile at Elena's retelling of events. She makes it sound like some monumental moment in our friendship. All I did was buy her a damn bear. I could see that she was lonely without it, and I thought it was the one thing that I could actually fix for her. I couldn't bring Stefan back, I couldn't raise the dead, but I could make sure she had something to hold onto at night to chase away the nightmares.
"I never knew it meant so much to you."
"It might sound stupid and childish," Elena confesses, "but when I looked at that tiny little bear with the coral colored bow on her ear, I felt less alone. I felt loved, and I wanted you to feel that too. So when you look at this hippo, you'll know that I love you?"
I feel the smallest crack form on my outer walls. She bought me a stuffed hippo to prove that she loves me. I have to stop this. I can't give in, because nothing's changed, and this still ends badly, so I give my old friend deflection a try.
"This might count as the most insane present I've ever gotten," I tease relentlessly.
"Well if you don't want him, I can take him back," Elena offers playfully as she makes a move to take her back.
"NO," I respond far too quickly to hold onto any sense of dignity, "you don't have to do that. I'll take her. I haven't gotten a present in a while, so thank you."
"You better get used to it," Elena informs me, "because I make A LOT of mistakes. Who knows how many apology presents I'll have to buy."
"So I could have an entire zoo of animals by years end?" I joke around some more.
"Absolutely," she agrees, "unless of course you prefer chocolates or arrangements of flowers."
After staring at her for a second I reply, "You do understand that I'm a man right?"
"Well you try and think of a manly apology gift," Elena argues a fair point. "It doesn't exist. All the classics are associated with women. I don't see why. Stuffed animals, chocolates, and flowers should be unisex presents." Clearly she's given the topic an absurd amount of thought.
"Be that as it may, for any future apology gifts, I'd stick with chocolate and flowers," I humbly request. "There is a quota of how many stuffed animals a grown man can have in his bedroom and still be called a man. Technically its zero, but I think the whole vampire thing gives me some extra leeway. I can just threaten/compel anyone who tries to take away my man card."
"Good," Elena breathes a phony sigh of relief, "I'd hate to think that my present diminishes your masculinity."
"On the contrary, only a secure man confident in his manhood could own a stuffed hippo, especially one with pink striped pajama bottoms," I mock in good fun.
"Well I had to dress her," Elena replies defensively. "You didn't want her to be like one of those slut hippos that you hear about on the news."
"No, we wouldn't want that," I respond in between barely contained laughter.
"So what are you going to name her?" I freeze at the question.
"First I have to own a stuffed animal, and now I have to name her?"
"Yes," Elena declares, offended that I would even consider leaving the hippo without a name. "It's practically a rule. All animals deserve a name, even if they're of the stuffed variety," Elena claims confidently.
"Hippo, I hereby name her Hippo," I state simply, hoping Elena is now satisfied.
"That's not a name," Elena argues. "You're just calling her what she is. It doesn't count."
"Fine," I sigh in defeat, "I'll call her Po for short. Happy now?"
Elena's face lights up again in childlike wonder. She never ceases to amaze me. In the course of a half hour conversation, she went from humble and contrite, to defiant and yelling, to naughty vixen, and circling right back to innocent 4 year old. And people say I'm complicated.
"Ecstatic," she answers gleefully. There is a literal spring in her step. I'm surprised she's not skipping as exits out my door. At the last second, she turns back around and states plainly, "just in case you forget, I love you." She smiles real big and leaves. I assume she is off to plan her next move in convincing me of that fact. Every fiber of my being is screaming at me to be careful, but I look down at the hippo sitting in my lap with her eyes, and I don't know how I'll last the week.
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