I love you guys and, must I say, keep the comments coming! They cheer me up a hell of a lot ^.^ Thank you especially for your reception of the last chapter... I hope you enjoy this one. It's a favorite of mine.
Watch out for the A/N at the end.
"That's Elsa, mom... She's my girlfriend."
A conflict stirs within Elsa the moment she watches Anna hold her breath in anticipation.
Under different circumstances, she would have given her complete privacy without a second thought. She's already done it once before, when Anna received a phone call from her father as they waited in line for coffee and Elsa had encouraged her to go take a seat while she placed the order. But under the circumstances of a non-premeditated confession, Elsa finds herself torn between going back inside her room and staying where she is in case Anna needs any kind of support.
She feels like the indirect cause of the dilemma Anna now has to face on her own, but the truth is that she had been just as disoriented as the redhead's initial response to the sound of the incoming call. If she had known it was Anna's mother she would have never left that bed, let alone called out Anna's name loud enough to be heard.
Because of the headphones, Elsa has a very limited perception of how Anna's mother has reacted but by closely watching her girlfriend's reaction she can see that her expression has gone from apprehension to confusion in the spam of a few seconds.
"Uh, right," she hears Anna say. "Thanks?" The redhead opens her mouth to say something else but it closes with a clank. Her mother is probably adding something to her initial response, she thinks.
She isn't. Or at least, it has nothing to do with what Anna has just confessed. By now, the girl is struggling to dissimulate her bewilderment even through her little attentive hums, but her mother doesn't seem to catch it. There's lots of listening on Anna's side and lots of talking on her mother's, as if they'd moved on to other, less trivial matters and the case had been dismissed.
As though all she said in response was That's nice, honey. Now could you pass me the salt, please?
"Oh," Anna then says. "That's great, mom. When are you guys flying in?"
Although confused and slightly worried by the turn of events, Elsa decides to give Anna some privacy for the rest of her call. The coast is clear, her father would say sometimes. Whether that applies to the current situation she doesn't know, but it sounds fitting.
She spends the next few minutes meticulously making the bed. Anna's voice is too low to be audible, which encourages Elsa to drop any act of eavesdropping she may have briefly considered. As she clears the bed of comforters and pillows, she thinks back to what Anna had told her the day before about her childhood and her constant need for an affection she never felt was entirely corresponded. She thinks of how Anna, despite everything, turned out to be so unapologetic about her love for others. It drives Elsa to think that how you shape yourself in the end is not only a response to life's circumstances, but also to how you choose to react. Anna could have turned out to be bitter and resentful but instead she turned out to be caring and deeply understanding. A little ray of sunshine in most people's lives... Certainly the whole Sun in Elsa's case.
Her girlfriend pads back into her room just as she's finishing puffing up the pillows.
"Hey," Anna says softly.
Elsa straightens up, turns to her and closes the distance between them in a few short strides. "I'm sorry, Anna," she says when her arms encircle the shorter girl's waist. "I didn't know you were on the phone, I would have never called out to you—"
"It's okay." Anna leans back from their embrace but leaves her arms planted on her shoulders. "It had to happen eventually." The smile on her face is sad and resigned. It ignites something akin to protectiveness inside of Elsa.
"What did she say?"
Anna frowns again. "It was so weird," she mutters. "At first I thought, maybe she thinks you're a girl friend, but I think she did get it because she was just like Oh, and then she said That's nice, honey (could you pass me the salt?) that's it. Nice. What the—who the hell says that? It's like I told her the weather's gotten better lately."
If Elsa is baffled she cannot imagine how Anna must feel. "Do you think she's in denial?"
"I don't know?" She goes to sit, defeated, on the neatly made bed. "I don't even know if she's going to tell my dad or if I will have to when I see him."
Elsa follows her suit. "Maybe she will." Unfortunately, she doubts it. "When are they arriving?"
"They'll be here a day before my graduation and they'll stay for three more days after that." She throws herself back with a groan. "Just what I needed!"
Lying by her side, Elsa props her head on her hand. She is consciously following Anna's moves. At this rate, they'll end up under the covers again. "Do you think your dad will react the same way?"
"I wouldn't even consider that a reaction," she laughs. A rueful sound with no joy in it. "I feel like I'm gonna have to do it all over again." Anna then looks straight at her, and in her eyes Elsa finds nothing but honesty. "I'm scared," she whispers.
Elsa raises her hand in order to sweep the disheveled bangs away from her forehead. Anna's copper hair is in an absolute, glorious mess but there isn't a laugh building in the back of Elsa's throat. Not this time.
"You know I'll be there for you, sweetheart. All of us will be there."
Anna shuts her eyes. A few seconds go by before she lets out a sigh through her nose.
"That doesn't help, does it?" Elsa asks in a whisper.
Bright eyes reveal themselves to her. "No, it does... I'm sorry." She weaves her fingers through Elsa's hair and the blonde closes her eyes at the sensation. "It's just that everything is so frustrating, I don't even know what to say. My mom's reaction made no sense, I'm gonna have to repeat this mortifying moment in person and who knows what will come out of it. What if they flip? Or what if they turn their backs on me?"
Anna's eyes are beginning to reflect the morning light of the room. They've become crystalline, on the verge of tears. "I don't think I would be able to handle that."
The blonde leans down to place a lingering kiss on her forehead. "Something tells me they won't."
"You think so?"
"I do. I think that if your mom were to be so strongly against it, she would have reacted very differently already."
Anna tilts her body towards Elsa's chest, seeking a comfort her girlfriend is ready to give. "I really hope so," she mumbles against the soft flannel of her snowman PJs.
Elsa does, too. She hopes—and thinks—that Anna's parents are not the narrow-minded, judgmental kind. She thinks that regardless of her parent's lack of attention and a poor show of parental affection, their actions were never intentional and thus, they cannot be mean people. She thinks—and really hopes—that when Anna does have the opportunity to tell them, that they will show at least a grain of understanding. That they might encounter denial at first but, in the end, will be incapable of hurting Anna and of willfully, knowingly turning their backs on her. That when they get to meet Elsa, they will see how much she cares about her daughter and perhaps then, accept who Anna is.
What a twisted irony it will be, to end up getting everything right except for the one thing she never considered.
Anna pulls herself out of the embrace and Elsa out of her thoughts. "Can we talk about something else?"
"Are you sure?"
The redhead nods, resolved. "I don't think there's a lot to talk about. It's all gonna go down at my graduation and that's already what, in less than two months?"
"Something like that."
"Right."
"Are you going to be able to put it off until they come?"
"I'd rather try that than do it again over the phone, honestly."
Elsa mulls over her next words. She feels the need to suggest it, if anything because she wants Anna to know she mustn't feel obliged. "If you think it's best that I don't go to your graduation, I'd understand, you know? I don't want to make things worse between you guys. We can always celebrate after they leave."
Anna stares at her. She blinks twice, perplexed that Elsa would even suggest it. "The only thing worse than having to go through this again is having to go through this without you. I need you there. I would never uninvite you just to avoid trouble."
She fights back a grin. "I'm not sure uninvite is a word, sweetheart."
"It is now."
"If you insist." She rearranges the disheveled bangs again while her fingertips graze Anna's forehead. There is no point in doing it, really, because Anna's hair has a mind of its own. Elsa just likes touching her.
"How are you feeling?" Anna asks.
She does a bit of jolly introspection in order to give her an honest answer. Yesterday had been overwhelming, but having spent half of it in the company of two people she deeply loves rather than alone had left her feeling the morning after without an emptiness she had grown accustomed to in previous years. Refreshed isn't quite the right word but calm is fairly close. Elsa had gone to sleep safe in Anna's arms.
"I'm feeling better," she tells her. "Their anniversary is just a bit too hard for me to handle still."
"That's perfectly understandable." She chases after the palm that's remained by her cheek and kisses it. "Whether it's the third one or the twentieth one, I would never expect you to act perfectly dandy."
Elsa smiles softly. "Thank you."
Anna pulls her down for a chaste kiss that inevitably deepens, until everything leaves her mind except for the sensation of the girl's soft lips against her own.
When they pull away, the redhead pouts. "I have to go to class."
"Must you?" She asks in an impulse.
Anna's smile grows mischievous.
"I don't think Mr. Hayes would miss me too much," she ponders out loud, feigning seriousness. As if she hadn't made up her mind the moment Elsa opened her mouth.
"You shouldn't skip class." That's an empty reprimand and they both know it.
"You literally suggested it."
"Not literally. I only asked a question."
"If that helps you sleep better at night..."
They stare at each other.
"...I'm skipping class, Elsa"
"Must you?"
Anna throws her head back for the first hearty laugh of the day. "You're insufferable."
Elsa grins. "Okay, fine. You can skip. I know something that'll keep your mind occupied better than Mr. Hayes's class, anyways"
The redhead wiggles her eyebrows, and Elsa thinks that if Anna had not charmed her way into her heart with her personality, that alone would have done it. The action is unbearably cute.
Regardless, those eyebrows are suggesting something far different from what Elsa has in mind.
"I think it's time we plant those seeds you gave me."
Anna's expression blooms with excitement. The blonde barely has the time to prevent a mutual concussion before Anna jumps out of the bed so fast Elsa fears for her blood pressure.
"Wooh. Dizzy."
Elsa chuckles, shaking her head. "You're a lost case, my love."
Thanks to the wondrous world that is the Net, it takes the girls nothing but a few seconds to find out there is a hardware and garden store blocks away from Elsa's apartment. Three blocks to be exact. Three that become ten blocks and forty extra minutes because Anna must stop by the bodega to say hi to Marta before they must take a detour to buy coffee, because a morning without coffee is not a morning well-invested and "Do you really want to live with that decision, Elsa?"
Elsa does not. So she lets Anna buy her a cappuccino which she continues sipping even as they surf the crammed hallways of this family-owned store.
They could have come in, gone straight for the flower pot and the potting mix, paid for the items and left. But practicality is a matter that passes over Anna's head, and Elsa has slowly learned that there's nothing wrong with a little bit of discovery even in the most inconsequential of places.
"Imagine having a garden one day," she tells Elsa as she picks up a pound worth of fast grow grass seed, looks at the label, then puts it back on the rack.
"I would love to have a garden, actually."
"Really?" Anna's eyes widen with the same ease of a kid. "Maybe we can build our own garden," she says before she continues with her exploration.
Elsa smiles to herself. Every time Anna provides her with little glances of a future together she feels warm all over her body.
"Oh! I found it."
Elsa approaches her and glances at the bag she's holding. "That's for a veggie garden, Anna."
She puts it back. "I knew that."
"What about this one? It says for cactus and succulents. Ours is a succulent, right?"
"Yeah, take that one." She's already distracted by the pesticides.
Elsa continues sipping her lukewarm cappuccino as she follows Anna with the same blind trust of a Chinese pack and its umbrella tour guide. If it weren't because this store is nowhere near the size of a Costco, they would have probably gotten lost twice already. From where she stands, Elsa can see the sign that says 'Pots & Accessories' but she lets her girlfriend get to it on her own.
When she does, she turns to Elsa. "You have to choose."
The blonde is genuinely surprised. "Why me? I thought we were choosing together."
"Well yeah, but the pot will be in your room, you have to choose what you want to look at every day as soon as you wake up."
"That sounds like you got it out of a bumper sticker."
Anna rolls her eyes. "It does not. Now choose, woman, or you won't be getting any more kisses for the rest of the day, let alone anything else."
Elsa quickly grabs a plastic pot the color of terra cotta. A classic, she thinks in a flash.
They pay for the items at the register, where a distracted Indian man is carrying a conversation over the phone with the speaker turned on. There is a woman at the other end of the line. She sounds pissed.
On their way back to the apartment, Anna stops by a newspaper box that says Daily Free on its front and pulls out the last remaining issue. "To put on the floor," she tells Elsa when she looks at her with curiosity. "I don't wanna be the one cleaning potting soil off of your carpet."
It ends up being not the carpet, but the floor of the kitchen when Elsa takes a knife and opens the bag with so much force that nearly half of it is spilled.
Anna laughs through her attempt at helping her get as much soil off the floor as possible. Elsa tries to act annoyed, but with everything that's happened in the last 24 hours, Anna's laughter does nothing but reinstate that feeling of joy she inevitably feels around this girl.
Once they've put down the bag of soil, a glass of water and the pot, they settle themselves in the middle of Elsa's newspaper-covered floor.
"So I searched online," Anna says. "We have to put the soil and water it first. Then we leave it be so that the water can settle and the soil becomes moist, and then we put in the seeds."
"How long do we have to leave it be for?"
"Don't know. Ten minutes?"
"Your research skills are astonishing."
"You know what's astonishing? Your sarcasm. Keep it up, see if I kiss you again today."
Elsa crawls on her hands and knees across the newspapers before she drops a sloppy kiss on Anna's cheek that the redhead fights halfheartedly. "You couldn't resist me for too long," she teases.
"Don't try me." There's a fiery reaction simmering beneath her teal eyes that Elsa is tempted to provoke but doesn't. Instead, she assuages it with a pacifying kiss on the lips.
"Truce?"
Anna pecks her—"Truce"—and moves on. She is too excited to hold on to any kind of grudge at the moment.
She keeps the pot straight while Anna pours down the soil, gently patting it around so that it doesn't turn into a mound of dirt. Anna's brow is knit tight in concentration and Elsa fights the urge to run her soil-covered thumb across it.
"You know, I will fight for full custody of this child when you leave for London," Anna says as she watches her pour just enough water on the soil to moisten it.
"You don't have to fight for it if I just give it to you, Anna."
"Where's the fun in that?"
Elsa laughs, altering her concentration. "You're so dramatic. What do you want? A broadcasted case with Judge Judy?"
"I wouldn't rule that option out."
"Right, we'll see what happens when she finds out we've been talking about a plant and not a child."
Anna sticks her tongue out.
She tells Anna to go get the packet of seeds out of the drawer of her nightstand instead of just poking her tongue out at people. Her drawer of tokens, she calls it in the privacy of her own mind.
"Where's it at? In the box?"
Elsa nods.
"That's my drawer of tokens," she comments when Anna pauses at the sight of the objects inside. It makes her want to laugh a little. The way Anna has infiltrated herself so much into her life that the thoughts she's kept in her mind for so long are now coming out as easily as the words that leave her mouth.
"Can I?" Anna asks.
Elsa nods again as she makes her way over to sit next to the redhead on the bed, getting rid of as much dirt as she can on top of the newspaper before she does. There's a bit of anxiety lurking somewhere in the back of her mind now that Anna has the intention of exploring the small wooden box. She could stop her, she knows that. But she really doesn't want to.
The first object she takes out is a stuffed puffin her mother helped her make when she was five years old, out of wool and a single blue glove for his cape—because he had to have a cape, she'd insisted—like any hero would.
"That's Sir Jörgenbjörgen."
"Jorgen-who?"
"Jörgen-björgen," she smiles amusedly. "He was my first real friend."
Anna grabs the tiny arm between her thumb and her index finger before she shakes it gently. "Nice meeting you, little one." Then she hands it over to Elsa with utmost care and says: "How come he's hidden in your drawer?"
She cradles the puffin in her hands. The weight is familiar, and the memories it carries even more.
"I'm twenty-four, Anna. I'm a little too old for stuffed animals on my bed."
"I beg to differ. Who's here to judge anyway?"
"You?" She replies lamely.
"Really? That's all you got?"
Elsa chuckles. "Fine." She places Sir Jörgenbjörgen on the crevice formed between the pillows and does what she did so many times before when she was a kid: she tucks him in.
She discovers Anna watching her with a soft smile, blushes, but says nothing. Neither does Anna. She continues rummaging.
There is a silver necklace with a single snowflake that used to belong to her mother. She had always told her daughter that there was a solemn beauty in snow, and that Elsa reminded her of it. It is a necklace she never wears for fear of losing it, but one she tends to hold in her hand from time to time. There's also her father's favorite handkerchief, a royal blue with its edges the color of carmine, and their wedding rings safely placed inside a jewelry box she found at home before moving out of it.
Anna goes over every object with much delicacy and sober contemplation. She is brief with each, but Elsa can tell she is taking their significance to heart. She then takes out of the box the pink book she gave Elsa the second time they met.
From inside falls an item Elsa knows too well.
It is one of her favorites. A Kodak picture of the three of them sprawled over a couch, with her dad on one corner, laughing as he watches Elsa being mercilessly tickled by her mother. Elsa was six when this picture took place, and she knows the exact date because her mother had the habit of writing it behind every picture she had developed back when disposable cameras were a thing.
Anna looks at the picture with vehement attention and Elsa realizes this is the first time she sees what they look like. "Your mom looks a lot like you," she raises her teal blue eyes at her, as if to reassure herself, then looks back down. The tip of her index grazes the glossy surface of the photo. It passes over her mom, herself and then her dad, and Elsa doesn't question the action. She can see what she's doing. She is getting acquainted.
Afterwards, she places the photo ceremoniously inside the box before her attention turns to the pink Neruda book. "I'm glad to see this was worthy enough to become one of your tokens," she says. Her tone is half-teasing, half-serious.
Elsa drops a kiss on the redhead's shoulder just as she moves her head to take a closer look at the poems Anna is leafing through. That floral scent of hers hits Elsa just right. It makes her linger.
"Excluding the orange Skittles, that is the first thing you ever gave me. It should be commemorated as such."
Anna chuckles. "Do you have a favorite?"
"Besides the one you dedicated to me, you mean?"
Anna pokes her ribs and she ducks away with a giggle.
"There's one I really like but it makes me a little sad too."
"Which one?"
Elsa extends her hand and Anna gives her the book. She skips through the pages. Some are dogeared, in others she has underlined the lines she's enjoyed the most. The poem she's referring to starts somewhere in the middle, right after its Spanish counterpart.
"Can you read some of it to me?"
Elsa looks at her. Her expression is serious, deep with curiosity and love. A bottomless love, Elsa thinks with affection.
She then thinks that she has never read a poem out loud before. Maybe in high school, but if you can't remember it, the experience doesn't count. Must she take up a different voice? A sotto voce, perhaps? Or maybe a charming murmur meant to seduce?
"Well... I liked the beginning," she begins to say instead. It's her introduction, that's all. She's getting warmed up. "Here, where he writes: Everything carries me to you, as if everything that exists... aromas, light, metals, were little boats that sail toward those isles of yours that wait for me..."
Anna tilts her head as she continues looking at her. "Why did it make you a little sad?"
Elsa doesn't give an answer in her own words. She reads it out loud.
"If little by little you stop loving me," she recites, "I shall stop loving you little by little... If suddenly you forget me, do not look for me, for I shall already have forgotten you."
She doesn't pause to look at Anna, she moves on to her favorite part. The reunion. The part where she's reminded that not all heartbreaks end without hope. That a happy ending is possible.
Her voice gains momentum because, somehow, they feel like a promise of her own.
"But if each day, each hour, you feel that you are destined for me with implacable sweetness... If each day a flower climbs up to your lips to seek me, ah my love, ah my own, in me all that fire is repeated, in me nothing is extinguished or forgotten. My love feeds on your love, beloved, and as long as you live it will be in your arms without leaving mine."
They regard each other silently for a few seconds before Anna speaks out.
"I really like your voice," she says lowly. "Have I ever told you that?"
Elsa tucks an imaginary strand of hair behind her ear. "I don't think so."
Anna pecks her once, then kisses her deeply. Their lips savour each other for a while in an unhurried act of love.
When they separate for air, Elsa points out: "You didn't go through all the items in the box." Then she takes out the brown pocket notebook holding the first story she ever gave her.
The first, and not the last story Anna will ever dedicate to her.
The redhead gasps softly, welcomes the notebook into her hands and looks around the room for something to write with. She stands up to grab a pen from the blonde's desk—"I think it's time to plant the seeds, by the way"—and adds a sweet afterthought to her brief dedication note:
I love you.
Three weeks fly away rather busily for the girls. In the relative wonders of time, Elsa has experienced them in a flash. Her classes have become increasingly demanding in both practice and theory as they prepare students for the clinical rotations happening on the fourth and last year of med school. As a result, she has had to opt out of her brief although leisure lunches and substituted them for quick bites of sugars and fats at the cafeteria. Not that she'll complain any time soon, though. The doughnuts are to die for and the coffee is good enough to meet the low standards of any college student. But what started as a little indulgence has quickly become a habit. The problem is, the options at the cafeteria are surprisingly limited. Columbia may be one the finest universities in the state of New York but frankly, their salads are shit, and even Elsa will much rather pick up a bakery good than the packed romaine they serve with two cherry tomatoes and the same packet of Caesar dressing she once saw at McDonald's.
High on caffeine and sugar, she's spent most of these three weeks writing down notes until her hand cramps up. She reads, goes to class, then reads some more. She's also approaching the end result of her group's research training which, despite initial reluctance, has turned out to be quite alright. The moment Elsa realized it was full of studious introverts, she fit right in.
However, the greatest downfall of this demanding schedule is the time she's got left to spend with Anna. Outside of weekends that go by in the blink of an eye, their time has been reduced to late afternoons, nights and early mornings. Anna has been just as busy working, cramming in the last of her assignments, writing, turning in essays—all those shenanigans, as her girlfriend would say—, to the point where it's become an automated routine: wake up, with Anna most likely by her side, have breakfast, share a shower every other morning (which turned out to be a tad unrealistic because once you come down the heights of shower sex it's mostly Can I go under the water now? I'm getting cold, or Anna's favorite Elsa, your boobs are too distracting). Then it's the parting of ways, jump into the endless pit of duties and responsibilities, meet again, and tiredly fall into each other's arms.
The exhaustion may be attributed to the workload they each face, but Elsa knows that it must also be attributed to the late nights they have spent opening up more and more about their pasts. She has caught her girlfriend nipping at her lower lip more often than she ever had before but she's chosen to give Anna the chance to open up whenever she's ready. That is, late at night. They talk about their parents, the good and the bad; about their life-long fears; about their hopes for the near future. These are nights spent in hushed tones and murmured confessions; in giggles and teary smiles; in kisses, embraces and soft moans. They're nights that give Elsa tremendous bliss and a minor case of sleep deprivation.
All of this is what Elsa keeps thinking about as she stands inside the train that will take her to Columbia. The sound of its wheels screeching against the metallic rail is rhythmic, its movement soothing.
Elsa also wonders, as she gets off the train, why the Research Administration Office has to be on the Morningside campus and not right at Irving. It makes no sense to have to attend one class, take the southbound 1 to a meeting that will probably take half of her commute's time, jump back on the train bound to the Bronx, and get through two more classes.
Doctor Susan Park's office is on the third floor of the Administration building. All the way to the end of the hallway, right next to the ceiling-to-floor window that faces the courtyard of Morningside's campus.
She checks her phone before knocking, sees that she is ten minutes early and decides to wait a few more minutes outside. Five minutes early is fashionable. Ten, not so much. She also finds that she has a new text from her girlfriend. The words Good luck, sunshine! are attached to a photo taken by Anna. The redhead is giving her a thumbs-up and so is Kristoff, who is sitting in the background with his customary boyish grin.
Elsa replies back to her with a grin before she spends the remaining minutes looking out at the courtyard. The Spring sun is finally shining in all its glory, and Elsa suspects that may have something to do with the way students are striding across the lawn without the rushed perkiness of a cold weather. For some reason, this brings a smile to her face.
The door opens behind her and out comes a woman that could pass as having the same age as Elsa if it weren't for the heaps of credentials Elsa found on her profile online. She is shorter than her by an inch or so—the same height as Anna, most likely—, her black hair falls straight down without impediment and when she smiles her eyes close almost to a slit.
"Miss Anderssen?"
"Hi, yes—" she extends her hand for a shake. The woman's hand is warm and pleasant. Just right for a doctor, she thinks.
"I saw someone pass by a few minutes ago and I expected a knock, but none came."
"Sorry," she laughs, a little embarrassed. "I just felt like I got here too early. I wanted to wait a little before knocking... It's nice meeting you, Doctor Park."
"You may call me professor if you'd like," she smiles, leading her inside. "This isn't a clinical setting, no need to overdo formalities."
Elsa registers the office in a few, quick glances while the woman makes her way around her minimalist mahogany desk and sits on a black leather La-Z-Boy. Except for the three photo frames facing away from Elsa and the numerous diplomas hanging on the wall to her right, the office is highly impersonal. It could be anyone's.
"I must apologize for such a delay in the schedule. Between the usual work and balancing the projects for the next semester, these months are always packed for us."
"I understand," Elsa says amicably. She sits on the chair that is offered by Park's hand. "I wanted to thank you for the spot you've offered me. I know this is not a common cordiality so to be even considered, it's an honor." She hears Theo in her mind telling her: Don't thank them, sugar, thank yourself!
An inward smile.
"No need to thank us, Miss Anderssen," the professor affirms. "You're reaping the fruits of your own effort, that's all. Now, I feel like I should give you the basics first before we dive into the actual interview. This is a research project that will mostly take place in London's Institute of Cardiovascular Science. It is five months long, from August to December. I'm not sure yet about the size of the group, but they tend to be small—about fifteen people max. I'll be the one supervising your group but we'll also have an administration representative in case of any mishaps during our time abroad."
"As I'm sure you're aware by now, these programs are highly competitive due to the immersive experience they offer. They consist mostly of clinical rotations, as well as both practicum and research work. The process, each semester, consists of a list of suggested candidates. After that, it's a meticulous process based not only on the general grades, but on your written assignments, your participation, your extra-curriculum activities; all of that which you as students don't think we notice but do," she jokes lightly.
Elsa gives her a polite smile.
"As for yourself, Miss Anderssen, I must say that what caught my attention the most was your essay on improving the quality of life for terminally ill patients." She leans in, her elbows propped on the desk. "In all of my years of experience, I have rarely encountered students with this much sense of humanity so early on... And so I wondered, why is that, Miss Anderssen?"
Elsa tries to recall the details of the essay professor Park is referring to. It was written on her fourth semester, although its guidelines remain a memory now blurred out. She does recall, however, what drove her to write it. She had been challenged by Theo during one of her visits, when they were just getting to know each other and Elsa was easily thrown off by her no-nonsense remarks. She had explained to her what she was learning at school that semester and Theo had remained unmoved. It's good that they teach you how to save lives, sugar, she'd told her, but do they teach you how to tend to their demise? Elsa had been thrown in a spiral. No they had not, she'd admitted, and that had felt like a slap of reality right on the face. Even on her sixth semester of med school, they had yet to teach her much about mortality when medicine can no longer resist fate.
She had gone home that night and researched everything she could about the way terminally ill patients carried out the rest of their lives, and a few weeks later, she had found a real reason to delve into it.
"Have you ever encountered a patient that's asked you to withdraw treatment, professor?"
The woman arches her shapely eyebrow. This has clearly thrown her off, and Elsa begins to question her choice of words just as she answers: "I have, yes. It's more common than you may think, Miss Anderssen."
"Right... And you were hesitant to comply, I'm guessing?"
She knows her questions are being aimed at the doctor sitting in front of her rather than at her own essay, but she's trying to prove something here.
If only the woman weren't looking at her like she's treading on fine ice.
"What exactly is your point? Of course I was hesitant. We're talking about ending a treatment that will result in death."
"Yes, you're right," Elsa states. "But that's just my point. Or part of the point on my essay anyways. Traditionally speaking, medicine is all about extending life. To the point where it's almost inhumane sometimes." She really hopes she's not poking at a sensitive topic here, but the professor has asked. Elsa is simply answering. "We're all mortal, professor. I might sound like a hypocrite because of course, my priority will always be saving someone's life. But what if extending it is no longer the right choice? What if, instead of prolonging the pain with treatments and medicine that are sometimes too much, we work with what we have?"
"You're talking about palliative care."
"In a way, yes," she doesn't tell her that she had only found out about palliative care after having written her essay. "But palliative care is considered a program and you have to fit into certain criteria to be eligible... I'm just talking about simple, humane care. By doctors, by the patient's family, by medical institutions. It is so easy for us to assign treatments or suggest experimental drugs, but I personally think we can do better when it comes to dealing with a patient's mortality."
Park nods her head a few times. The action is small enough to be missed but Elsa can see it; she is impressed. "Is that why you chose medicine?"
"Yes," she lies. "Partly." No need to get too personal.
"Well, I must say I agree with you. Terminal illness is a bit of a touchy subject for doctors but it's necessary talk, nonetheless." She leans back on her La-Z-Boy and gives her a less formal smile this time. "I'm sure we'll get to converse more about it during our trip."
Satisfaction fills Elsa's chest. "That would be great," she says sincerely.
A light knock interrupts whatever the professor was about to say. "Come in," she directs at whoever is on the other side of the door.
Tracy's insufferable face peeks in. She glances at Elsa first, then at Susan. "Am I interrupting something?"
"Only if what you have to tell me is not important," Susan tells her. Elsa doesn't miss the light sarcastic tone in her voice.
"It always is, doc," Tracy jokes. She walks inside the room with a smirk while Elsa fights the urge to roll her eyes. She is annoyed already.
The brunette is wearing a burgundy, long-sleeved blouse and pitch black jeans; the most formal Elsa's ever seen her. She nods cordially and greets her, "Hello, Elsa."
"Tracy," she replies dryly.
"You two know each other already?" Susan asks unassumingly. She takes the file folder Tracy has extended over to her distractedly because she is looking at Elsa, waiting for an answer.
The brunette beats her to it. "We do."
Elsa bites the inside of her cheek. Unfortunately, she wishes she could say. Why must this girl's presence take such a toll on her?
"Well, I'm glad you two have gotten acquainted already."
She fights the urge to demand why, exactly, this is something to be glad about but the answer comes without a pause, and Elsa wishes she'd rather be slapped.
"Tracy will be joining us as part of the administration for any in-field support."
Surely she must have heard wrong.
"I'm sorry?"
"I'll be tagging along," Tracy answers for the woman. Her face is smug, and her tone... she can hear Tracy calling her Ice Queen in her mind. It unnerves her to the core.
Up until now, Elsa has wondered what it is about this girl that aggravates her so much. After all, she has deeply disliked people before. Like that bully of a girl Rapunzel had to deal with during one summer camp until Elsa cornered her and threatened to shave her shiny bald on her sleep. Or that science partner in high school who neglected to do his part of the job and later on tried to take full credit for it. Yet, there is something about Tracy that shines a red light in her mind and just now she's beginning to see it. It is not just her overbearing tone of voice, or her barely concealed attraction towards Elsa. It is that Tracy acts as though she is playing a game she's meant to win. She always has, since their very first interaction, but somehow it's gotten worse and Elsa can now understand why.
She has let her. She's let her get a grip on her emotions since the moment she chose to aim her arrogance at Anna.
But now... with realization comes resolution, and Elsa will no longer grant her that satisfaction.
Later that day, Elsa waits for Anna outside of Duane Reade, right underneath the Metronome—that puzzling installment no one in New York seems to know the meaning of.
"Elsa!"
There is that grinning, freckled little creature Elsa calls her girlfriend approaching with the velocity of a child high on sugar, which makes Elsa ready her legs for impending collision and extend her arms just in time for Anna to fall into them.
"Oh my God," Anna rushes out. "I've been dying to tell you, I finally met Kristoff's girlfriend today. She is the quirkiest... person... ever. I swear I don't know where Kristoff meets these girls but anyways, I'll tell you everything after you tell me how your interview was because I've been thinking about it all day and you telling me that it went well on your text didn't help at all... What's wrong?"
"What?"
"You're upset."
Elsa glances sideways. "Why do you say that?"
"Because you've almost got a unibrow with how much you're frowning." She reaches for her hand. "What's wrong?"
The blonde touches the spot between her eyebrows but of course, the frown is gone. It's one of those things your brain will stop doing once somebody else points it out, like a nervous tick, or like staring into space.
"Elsa?" She ducks her head down to connect her gaze with the blonde's. "Are you okay? Did something happen at the interview?"
More like someone, she thinks. The interview had not lasted long after Tracy left with that characteristic smirk aimed at her. She doesn't even remember if she returned the goodbye gesture but even if she didn't, she doesn't care. Tracy left Elsa with just enough energy to focus on the rest of the questions professor Park threw her way and despite knowing that she'd nailed it, she walked out of that office with a dreadful aftertaste.
She doesn't reply right away. First, she must lead Anna towards Union Square and away from the middle of the sidewalk. The last thing she needs is for an angry stranger to start yelling at them to get out of the damn way.
"Tracy is coming to London with us," she finally tells her.
A pause. Long enough that Elsa has to take her eyes away from the concrete beneath them to look at Anna.
"Are you kidding me?" The redhead asks.
Elsa shakes her head bitterly.
"But she's not even a student," she remarks. Her frown is set deep, in a way similar to what Elsa must have looked like a few minutes earlier.
Dusk is beginning to drain the blue out of the Spring sky but the buzzing life of the park remains undeterred. A bit overwhelming for the time being in Elsa's opinion.
They continue making their way through the walking path and away from the bustle of the street.
"Apparently, she'll come on behalf of the administration."
"Bullshit."
The word throws her off and Anna catches it. "I'm sorry, but it's true. I mean not really. I'm sure it's just a coincidence but... I really don't like her, Elsa. And I know you don't like her either—you probably hate her, actually, cause you always get this look..." She trails off. A somber expression passes through her face but is gone as quickly as it came.
"What look?"
"I don't know, this look. It's very cold and kinda angry at the same time."
Elsa rubs her face as if said expression were on it right now, but really it's because she's tired. It's been a long day. "I just don't like her attitude. She acts as though she were playing a game with me. As if she knew something that I didn't."
Anna sighs wearily. She rests her head on Elsa's shoulder while her free hand goes to squeeze her bicep. "Just don't let her get to you."
"I won't," she says, with no premonition that she will be wrong.
So... I hope you may pardon the inconclusiveness of this chapter. You probably expected a resolution on this but there are two reasons why I didn't provide it: This one was on Elsa's POV and also, what's better than conflict through a video call if not conflict in person? :D
Ps. I have a question for you all. On this line: "I'm sorry, but it's true. I mean not really. I'm sure it's just a coincidence but... I really don't like her, Elsa. And I know you don't like her either—you probably hate her, actually, cause you always get this look..." She trails off. A somber expression passes through her face but is gone as quickly as it came. - What do you guys think is the reason she's trailed off? There was a very specific thought in Anna's head during this moment, and I'm very curious to see if any of you may have caught it? Any comments and opinions are of course welcome!