Hullo all! Here I am starting.
I'm sorry for the late update…. But when I tell you
TODAY IS MY BIRTHDAY!
I hope you'll forgive me.
That's right. I'm 18. The big one eight. I think I'm going to go buy something off of an infomercial really quick…
Quick FYI: This is completely unspellchecked. Not even by Microsoft word. I just wanted to get this up ASAP. And it is almost 12:00. On a school night. And I don't do well without sleep…
Ties
Chapter 14
Wherein Ariadne pointedly ignores the Yankees trinket hanging from Arthur's rear view mirror
Before Ariadne and Arthur left to pick up Mr. James, Yusuf was called, and a large deal was made out of him coming to visit.
After all, Arthur told his mother when he had hung up the phone: It wasn't often that he got to see the man. Living in Africa was not conducive to house calls, nor to lunch dates or to man-TV-watching sessions. Ms. James said that it wasn't likely that her son did any of these things, considering he was still wearing a tie and he was about to do pick up his father. When she mentioned that she still had some of his old t-shirts up in the attic, Arthur made a very large fuss about the fact that he had just heard the doorbell.
But Mickey wasn't barking. And Mickey was a notorious barker, if Ariadne recalled the squirrel that had been on the porch a few mornings ago. But Ms. James didn't seem to notice the absence of her dog's barking (perhaps she was desensitized to it?) and went on with her dinner preperations. For a woman who spent so much time cooking and eating and preparing food, she was unnaturally thin. That had to be where Arthur got his thinness from, Ariadne decided. Because while Mr. James was a fit man, he was in no wise skinny.
Then Ariadne realized it didn't matter what Mr. James looked like. Arthur wasn't a James, no matter how much he wanted to be one.
With Rachel removed from the house for the time being, the departure hugs were sweet and not mixed with looks of hatred brimming forth from two sets of eyes. Arthur made a great show of hugging Yusuf, and when Ariadne realized that this might well be the last time she would see the man, she gave him a hug that was double her pint-size. While she was the man she had interacted with the least, there was a bond there that only came with risking your life and livelihood to break the law… legally.
Ariadne felt a weight drop into her pocket at Yusuf's last hug. She was smart enough not to mention it.
The car ride was a wonderful one—except for the fact that Ariadne realized she was wearing the largest, baggiest sweatshirt she owned. And on her second date with Arthur too. He looked so crisp in his business attire and matching tie, and she looked like she had rolled down a hill and then had proceeded to iron only half of one sleeve of her sweatshirt. But, she figured, who ironed sweatshirts anyway.
She had since given up any idea of slipping Arthur's burned disk into his suitcase, and instead slipped it out of her sweat shirt pocket and into Arthur's disk player. She picked the time when he was ragging on her sense of music taste. Rather than bring up the fact that she had thrown away more than one N'Sync CD, she played for Arthur the disk that had taken her so much sweat to make. And that had ended up in the frying of her beloved copy of Huckleberry Finn.
Arthur told her that he had been slightly off about her taste in music. Arthur told her that new music wasn't as bad as he thought it would be. Arthur told her that the CD was okay.
Okay, he said. If okay meant that repeating a song about Zombies four times, Ariadne wanted things to be "okay" more often. She wanted to memorize his facial expressions. Especially when he first heard the song that she had lovingly called "The Monkey Song" for the entirety of her owning it. It was a song that she had struggled to find because she didn't actually know the name of the song, having given it it's fake name on day one, but the look he gave her was worth the struggle it had been.
Soon the music, which had once been a focal point of their discussions, faded into the background and they fell back into normal-people discussions. As normal as discussions could get for two Dream-hackers. Ariadne focused mostly on Arthurs face—he was able to read her so well, and she wanted to be able to understand this man. Sometimes she forgot what the topic was as she watched and he had to prod her into talking again, but she found herself enjoying his company more and more. She had known him before: but now she knew him well. And that made the little school girl inside her give a little leap of victory.
She was grateful that Arthur didn't know that her stomach was acting as her personal cheerleader.
And if he ever asked her why she was looking so determinatly at his face, she could always say she was avoiding looking at the Yankee Filth hanging from his rear view mirror.
So stare on she did.
Of all the unlikely places to find herself, Ariadne found herself squished around a picnic table outside of the nicest Cookout she had ever seen. Well, to say squished would be a slight hyperbole, but since there was a very loud family—from West Virginia, according to their plates—sharing their table, Ariadne felt squished indeed. But after she had gotten over her acute Claustrophobia, she was able to recognize the real humor in the situation.
She was sitting in a Cookout parking lot. Surrounded by a family from West Virginia. And she was sitting between two men in suits, who were eating their deep fried corn dogs with a seriousness that a surgeon would display during a neurosurgery. The way Arthur was contemplating his corndog made Ariadne think that he wanted to dissect it with his eyes.
The thought did not actually make Ariadne want to learn how to cut food with her eyeballs. That would be preposterous.
The two men didn't talk. They hadn't talked since Mr. James had gotten in the car, and Ariadne wished that she was sitting up front so that she could turn down the music and just listen to their silence. It was a wonderful thing, their silence.
If Ariadne had to personify or describe it in anyway, it would be like this. Each had a plastic cup embedded in their ear, and there was a string running between the two of them. It was old fashioned and uncomplicated. They seemed able to speak without even looking. It was like just riding in the car was enough. There were no sentimental looks: both men looked right ahead. There was no attempt at small talk—it wasn't needed. Even Ariadne, who usually suffered in silence, didn't feel the need to chatter. Nothing was needed to fill the silence.
Sitting at lunch was no different. While the family next-door chattered about a graduation and a birth of a litter of puppies, the three sat in their companionable silence and considered the importance of Corn Dogs in the regular person's diet. Or at least Ariadne did.
It's a hot dog. And it's covered in corn bread. And it's on a stick. What could be more convenient. They should make Piggies-in-a-blanket on a stick. Though I think that whoever makes corndogs would be mad for stealing their business. Or the Corn Dog people would just run the Piggie people out of business. Because no one I know would pass up a Corn Dog for a Piggie-in-a-blanket—
"Ariadne, do you want me to take your jacket to the car? It's on the way to the trash can." Arthur asked suddenly, wrapping his corndog stick in the tin foil his Cookout Burger had come in.
The segue into conversation was startling and unexpected and for a second Ariadne wondered if the top of her mouth would be permanently damaged from the puncture wound she had just inflicted upon herself with the "handy" corndog stick. Maybe sticks in food weren't such a hot idea.
" Urm, sure," Ariadne said, thinking that everything Arthur did had a point. So she allowed for Arthur to take her sweatshirt to the car without a problem. With Arthur gone, the silence turned a bit awkward and seeing as how Arthur had introduced the idea of conversation, there was no way Ariadne could let the air fall back into that silence.
"He's a wonderful kid, you know," ARiadne said softly, pointing back to Arthur with her thumb. "You did a good job raising him."
Mr. James nodded solemnly. "It's my only wish that he turn out as well as he did. He's a father's dream."
"Why don't you just adopt him, Mr. James?" Ariadne spurt out as suddenly as a soft drink dispenser. "That's all he really wants."
Mr. James sighed, and shook his head. "It's a bit more complicated than that, Ariadne dear."
"I just wish I understood. It's obvious that you treat him like a son. And he treats you as a father. I don't think there's anything he wants more than to be your legal son. And that's a strange aspiration for a man so young." Ariadne told him.
"And those are deep observations, from a person so young." Mr. James said, as he fiddled with his tie.
It was then that Ariadne realized she had never seen Mr. James with anything but a suit on.
It was then that Ariande realized just why Arthur might wear suits all of the time.
"We should probably get going," Arthur said, coming back without Ariadne's sweatshirt. "Once you're finished of course. Mother will want to be feeding us soon, and my flight leaves a bit before Ariadne and Eames's flight."
"You could have saved the trip to the car," Ariadne muttered, taking a sip of her cheerwine and deciding that she liked the drink a bit more than was healthy.
"Eh, I needed to check the time anyway," Arthur said, grinning. "I'm a schedule oriented person."
"You could have checked your phone," Ariadne offered sagely.
"The James family doesn't allow phones at the table," Mr. James proffered as he inspected the bottom of his milkshake cup for floating pieces of peanut butter cup.
"After all," Arthur said, rising once again from the table and gathering all of the drink cups.
"The entire James family is full schedule oriented people." Arthur carried on Mr. James' thought, and Ariadne got the idea this was a regularly repeated mantra at the James household.
"And we all need a little peace at the table to enjoy a meal together." Mr. James finished. It appeared that there was nothing of interest at the bottom of his drink, for he stuffed all of his trash into the cup and rose from his seat to throw it away.
"I'm going to go top us off, " Arthur told them, raising the foam cups and rattling them to show the giant Ice-to-water ratio.
"Good idea, Arthur," Mr. James said, taking up Ariadne's trash as well. Instantly, Ariadne felt even more attached to this good-Samaritan family and wished that her current fiancé was a bit more like them. Then she realized that she didn't have to worry about that: Eames wasn't actually her fiancé.
"Did you and my son have a thing going on a while back?" Mr. James asked as they walked back to the car.
That caught Ariadne a bit off guard, and she was glad that there had been an awkwardly placed rock for her to blame on her stumble. By the time she had removed herself from the pavement, she had restored her red face to its normal coloring and was able to answer Mr. James truthfully.
"Err… No, not exactly." She said, thinking of their quick kiss before Cobb/Mr. Charles had gone crazy.
"Not exactly?" Mr. James asked, a half smile twisting its way onto his face. "But there might have been a little something there."
"Maybe something tiny. Like the size of a super small dust bunny chopped in half, and then burned and the ash was blown away. That tiny. And completely one sided." Though, as she said it, Ariadne realized that it hadn't been one sided, like she had thought all along. Arthur had had some feelings toward her at the time.
"One sided you say?" Mr. James chuckled. "I guess that explains why Arthur doesn't seem to be that enchanted with your current Fiance. He tries really hard to like him, I can tell. But I've noticed that Arthur doesn't actually like Eames that much. I guess feelings between you two are still one sided."
His smile was so sweet that Ariadne almost felt the urge to correct him. That feelings were not ones sided, and it had never been Arthur on that one side. It had been her. Or maybe it hadn't been.
But Arthur showed up with three sloshing glasses of water before Ariadne could ruin everything in one fell sentence.
"I got us all water," he explained, when he saw Ariadne eyeing the obviously-not-browness of her cup's contents. He directed his next sentence at Mr. James. "Mother says you need to watch your sugar intake, and soda dehydrates you anyway."
Mr. James rolled his eyes—a very unexpected and less mature response than Ariadne would have expected from him. "If you take care of my son as well as he takes care of others, he'll be well set."
Mr. James pulled open his car door and slid into the seat. Arthur gave Ariadne a confused eyebrow quirk before he too maneuvered himself and three glasses of water into the front seat.
Ariadne buckled her seatbelt before she started paying attention to the conversation going on in the front.
"You really should call your mom, 'mom' you know. The way you act around her is so formal that it is almost biting." Mr. James was saying.
"I don't do it from any malicious intent," Arthur said, handing Mr. James a cup of water and handing Ariadne her own. "I just have always called her that. I think it gives her the respect she deserves. And I don't see you complaining about me calling you 'father.'" Arthur teased.
"I happen to like the sound of you calling me 'father.'" Mr. James said after taking a sip of his water.
Another silence fell on the car, and Ariande nearly fell asleep, so deep was the silence. It was like a giant swimming pool. She could have drowned in it. But instead she was floating.
When Arthur pulled off to the side of the road, Ariadne knew that something was about to happen.
"He's good and out," Arthur told her when he had parked far enough from the road not to arouse help, but close enough not to attract attention.
Ariadne was startled, but this time her seatbelt kept her from jerking about too much.
"What?" Was her response to his odd statement.
"I drugged him. He should be out for long enough for us to get the information that we need." Arthur explained. When Ariadne persisted in looking confused, Arthur backtracked. "Yusuf dropped some anesthesia in your coat pocket when he came here. I can't exactly go sticking my father when he's awake."
Ariadne saw the purpose in his plan, but she berated herself for not realizing that she had had a drugging concoction in her coat pocket. You think she would have noticed that sort of thing.
They worked quickly to get Mr. James into position for a comfortable Dream Dive. A needle was inserted into his wrist. He had large, healthy veins, so the process was a quick one. When his chair was reclined and he was completely ready, except for the press of the spongy button, Ariadne turned to Arthur, needle poised to plunge it into the back of his hand.
But he shook his head.
"I can't go in there," Arthur told her, taking the needle from her hand.
Ariadne was the most confused she had been the entire day. "Why?"
"He won't tell me his deepest secret. He'll keep it more hidden from me than he will from anyone else." Arthur explained, his voice shaking a little bit. Ariadne was a bit concerned for Arthur, but she continued to listen.
"Basically, no family member could go into his brain," Arthur explained more fully. "If there's a secret he wants to keep, he'd want a stranger to know before his family did. So, it has to be you. I wouldn't make you go if it wasn't completely safe and completely necessary."
Ariadne shrugged. "I don't feel like I'm allowed to do this," she explained, trying to take the needle back from Arthur.
"So imagine how it would be for me, Ariadne. To you, you can pretend he's a complete stranger. I can't do that. There's more of a moral problem for me than there is for you," his voice continued to shake, but his hands remained steadily around the needle. "Plus, you're the only one who knows the layout you've planned. I didn't have time to study it."
Ariadne was forced to concede. She allowed Arthur to plug her into the machine.
As she was pulled under the wave of medications and the euphoria that came with the machine being turned on, she felt Arthur press a kiss to her forehead and she heard a muttered, "Thank you."
And then there was nothing but darkness.
Since I didn't actually include the soundtrack in this story, I thought I'd include it here. I didn't want the story to be bogged down by pop culture references, so I am presenting it to you here. C:
Ah Hem: Ariadne's/My CD of awesomeness: A compilation of songs that might be Ariadne's favorites, or they might be mine. Actually, why do we even need a delination? So, to rename:
Ariadne and Sock's favorite songs
Dress and Tie—Charlene Kaye [feat. Darren Criss]
Oxford Comma—Vampire Weekend
We Intertwined—The Hush Sound
Wasted—Cartel
You're Gonna Go Far Kid—The Offspring
Around My Head—Cage the Elephant
Sun in My Pocket—Locnville
Rules Don't Stop—We are Scientists
Rollerblades—Eliza Doolittle
Hold me—Jamie Grace [feat. tobyMac]
Braille—Regina Spektor
My Body—Young the Giant
Zombies Ate My Neighbors—Single File
Sorry Sorry—Super Junior
El Sonidito—Hechizeros Band
Wow… I am realizing now how many of these songs I got for free on iTunes…
For the record: (baha, punny…) when I created this CD, I was literally just thinking of the first songs that came to my brain. For all of those who sent me options a ways back in chapter something: I thank you. Please don't think that because I didn't include a song from one of the bands that you told me about that I hate you or the band. I literally just wanted to get this chapter out and the CD was more of a side note. I did actually go through and listen to a song from. Every. Single. Band. that y'all pointed out to me. And believe me: as good of reviewers as you are, that was a monumental task to complete!
Oh, and also: I know Cookout only exists in North Carolina. But I desire Cookout. So I made them eat there. And it fit the idea that they would have to eat outside, too, which was what I was making Ariadne sit through. C:
Thank you to Legal-Assassin-006, Laurita91, PleaseDon'tGetMeRescued, musicchica10, Comfortably Plump, Jazzy'sgirl112108, Messy Ink, And I'm all out of bubblegum, gpeach6, Alexxis T. Swan! So many new faces, and so many old faces! I love you all for making this story as successful as it is! It has blown my socks off! (And since I currently am not wearing any socks, this is a major feat…) I'm sorry if I missed anyone in my public thanking. Or if I didn't respond to your review, or if I responded too many times. FF . net is going crazy with the emails. None of the links work. D: But I still love ALL OF YOU!