Author's Note: IT CONTINUES!
Chapter 21: Listen and Interpret
Blake
The teachers' lounge is an alien planet, inhabited by older, wiser, chunkier beings that subsist on packed lunches, and speak in equations and quotations. It exists in its own dimension; an enclave apart from the rest of the school…
"So what's a girl like you doing in a place like this?"
I look up from the table to see Milo sitting down. "Just needed to get out without…actually leaving."
"Maybe you should leave. You look like shit. That being said, your worst day is still better than my best."
"Au contraire," I mumble, cradling the cold coffee cup in my hands. "You've shed some weight. Shaving the beard will probably take off another thirty pounds, not to mention years. Were I that way inclined I might fall for you."
"I'm flattered," he says, "but my heart is on loan right now." I trail his gaze to Madame Coquin, who flutters her fingers at us as she walks out. "She waved," Milo gasps. "That's good, right?" I don't know what that is, but I envy it. I envy any age-appropriate attractions… "Hey, you really do look heartsick, kiddo. You okay?"
Am I okay? Let's see…I hate my job but turned down a chance to change it, I love my family but can't relate to them, and I sabotaged two high school sweethearts because the sight of them together drives me crazy…other than that I'm fine.
"Blake…?"
"We all want things we can't have, right?"
"Of course. It's called temptation."
"How do you make it stop?"
"Well…" As he gets ready to philosophize it occurs to me that he won't have the right answer. He can't. I asked the wrong question… "The only way to get rid of temptation is to yield to it. Resist it, and your soul grows sick with longing for the things it has forbidden itself."
"…Oscar Wilde?"
He nods. "A smart- albeit controversial- man. Were he alive today he would probably advise you to go for it. Before she's gone."
My head snaps up at that…and drops soon after. He thinks this is about Edie. "She's already gone."
"Oh? Oh…I'm sorry, Blake."
I push the coffee mug away and stand. "Don't worry. I'm not…"
Andie
"It's not about the necklace. It's about you going behind his back, to his brother. And you know how competitive they are. He just feels kind of betrayed…"
"Well, why he couldn't say this to me?"
"He's a little raw right now. He doesn't even want to sit with you at lunch. So do you mind hanging with Moose for a while? He's totally on your side."
"And whose side are you on, Soph?"
She grimaces. "Andie, I like to think that we're friends now, but I've known Chase since I was thirteen…"
"Yeah, okay, whatever," I mutter, knowing I come across bitchy and not caring. I'm over this junior high divorce court bullshit. I don't want to fight for custody of our friends. "Please just tell him I'm sorry."
Sophie nods and shrugs her backpack onto her shoulder. I get this queasy, uneasy feeling in the pit of my stomach as she walks off, probably to console my boyfriend…
Assuming he still is my boyfriend. I don't see us ending over a necklace. But crushing on his brother…now that could be a deal breaker.
To be honest, I kind of need this time away. I can't handle Chase's bruised ego and wrestle with the possibility that Blake like likes me. The thought of it scares me and excites me and confuses me because I'm not his type. I don't speak seven languages, I don't wear heels (if I can help it), I've never danced in a ballet…I'm not Edie. I'm the anti-Edie.
And maybe that's a good thing. Maybe that's what he needs. I don't know…
But I'm gonna find out.
Blake
"Where are you going?"
"To lunch."
Abby blinks, her face blank.
"Is that a problem?"
"No," she says slowly. "It's just…you always forget to eat. I practically have to force feed you come one o'clock. Now you look like you can't get away fast enough. Is everything all right?"
"Yes," I say and it sounds false, even to me. "Anything else?"
"I suppose not…oh, wait!" she exclaims, like she's surprised at her own memory. "Andie West stopped by earlier- earlier than you. It seemed important…"
I don't want to know. I don't want to talk to her or see her or think her name…
And that's too damn bad because she's coming down the hallway, with Moose at her side.
"'Sup, DC!" he calls, raising his hand. He lowers it with a wounded look as I pass by mutely. "What's eating him…?"
I don't know where I'm going until I get there. And even then, I spend ten minutes staring out the windshield with my hand on the wheel. When Chuck comes out and knocks I consider fleeing. But then he smiles, openly and expectantly, and all of a sudden I realize how badly I've treated him…
"Cybil! Look who's decided to grace us with his presence…"
She pops her head out of the study and grins. "Well, well, well…you look tormented, darling; positively Byronic. Can I get you something to eat?"
"Please," I say, as Chuck pulls me into the living room. He sits me down and I am vaguely aware of how nice it must be to feel helpless. To not make decisions. To be a kid…
"So what brings you here?"
I steeple my fingers and stare at the floor, feeling like a Catholic in confession… "Edie's building a school in South Africa. She wanted me to go with her. I said no. Now she's gone and I'm scared that I'm staying behind for something I can never have. Help."
I give him a minute to think, but when I look up he still seems stunned.
"Dad…?"
"That wasn't the plan."
"The plan?" I repeat, my muscles tensing at the thought of them planning my life. That warm fuzzy feeling fades fast.
"She didn't say anything about Africa…" He trails off at the look on my face and clears his throat. "But anyway…what're you staying behind for?"
"I don't know." Not untrue. "Could you just…tell me if I did the right thing?"
"You're asking me?"
"Yes," I exhale. "I'm that desperate. Tell me what to do, Dad."
He shrugs. "How can I when I'm completely biased? As your employer, I don't want to lose you. As your father, I don't want to lose you. At any rate, it's already done." None of this is helping and he must see that because he stops and thinks a little longer. "Okay," he starts again, shifting to the edge of his seat.
"Your mother and I were only a little older than you when we established MSA. It was the hardest thing either of us had ever done and we were pulled back from the brink of failure more times than you would believe. But we loved each other, even when we hated each other, and we're still here. So the million dollar question is: do you love her?"
I wish I did. It would make my life a hell of a lot easier… "No. Not her. Not anymore."
He smiles briefly and I can feel the relief radiating from him. "Well, then. You did the right thing. And I for one am glad."
"Me, too!" Cybil exclaims, revealing herself. She perches on the arm of my chair and offers me a sandwich. "Watercress. Your favorite."
I take it and smile, as an uneasiness settles into my stomach…
Andie
Something about this studio gets me down. It looks fine now; immaculate actually. You'd never know it was vandalized. You'd never know it was used at all. But it feels so…dead. Because Blake's not here. And somehow, neither am I.
So I leave and take I don't know how many buses to get to his house. It didn't seem this far away before…
He's not home. I know before I get to the door. But my heart feels like it's executing some elaborate acrobatics routine as I sit on his porch and wait…and wait…and wait…and…doze the fuck off. I wake up to the sound of his car door slamming and stumble to my feet. He walks up slowly, looking like he's seen a ghost…
"Hey," I murmur, so quietly I almost don't hear myself. "Sorry for camping out on your steps. I didn't sleep much last-"
"What're you doing here?"
That does it. "What am I doing here? What're you doing here? You're supposed to be teaching me!"
"Stop yelling. You'll frighten the neighbors."
"Fuck the neighbors!"
I want him to get mad. I want him to yell back. I want him to give me something, anything. Instead he mounts the stairs, brushing past me like I'm not there.
"Blake, come on," I plead, feeling my pride evaporate as I trail him. He's fiddling with his keys; his hands are shaking. "Please talk to me."
"Andie, I can't."
"Why? And don't give me that teacher-student crap. We passed that about three dinners ago."
He shakes his head and makes to open the door. I squeeze in between him and it and his breathing is so heavy it ruffles my hair. "What is your problem?"
It happens so fast I'm not sure it happened at all. But then he kisses me again, pressing me back until my knees buckle against his and I feel like I could melt and drip out of my clothes. It's unreal, more dreamlike than my dream, but I don't wake up this time. I kiss him back, in broad daylight, while some old lady waters her hydrangea three houses down.
My hands switch to auto-pilot and drift down from his chest. Before they can reach their destination he pulls away, groaning like he just lost a long race…
"You are my problem."
Everything after that is a blur. I remember his door closing, and the bus home…but I don't really know (or care) how I ended up in bed, smiling at the ceiling and replaying that kiss like it was my first…
A/N: Hell to the yeah.