AN:
Heeeeeeeeey!
Just as promised, I finished this one rather quickly! I'm quite chuffed, to be honest.
And now? Well, happy reading everyone!
Take care and have a great time! See you all next week!
xoxo MLE
(=^_^=)
Chapter Twenty-Five
If she was honest, Elphaba didn't mind it at all when Galinda went out socialising. The big circle of friends that she apparently craved was something she herself could not provide her with, and as long as Galinda was content venturing out on her own, that was perfectly fine with her. She wasn't the jealous type.
Besides, she did have cravings of her own, and those couldn't have been more different from her girlfriend's. Where Galinda sought lively company, Elphaba needed solitude and quiet. Even away from Galinda at times. Worrying that Galinda might take such a confession to heart and feel rejected, she was more than glad when she got what she needed without having to ask for it. It was one less delicate balancing act to navigate in their relationship.
Of course all that would change soon, once the baby arrived. She still couldn't tell for sure whether she truly knew what awaited her. But, suffice to say, solitude and quiet would both become rare luxuries. No more perfect reason than that to savour the fleeting gift of total privacy.
With three well-read library books lying open before her, she was typing away on her computer, working on her essay. She'd only received the assignment on the day before; in her situation, however, she wasn't willing to take any risks. What was done was done. If she kept up to date and finished everything early, she might very well manage going into labour one fine morning, afternoon or night, and hand in the particular assignment at that time just before it was due—regardless of that minor, well, interruption. It wasn't impossible, only a matter of good planning and diligent work.
Malky, oblivious to her carefully laid out schedule, jumped onto the dining table and walked all over her books.
"You know you shouldn't be on here," she growled lackadaisically, without really doing anything to reprimand or remove him. When he rubbed his head against her cheek, she went as far as rewarding him with a distracted pat.
The brief moment with her hand away from the keyboard gave her cause to stop and read what she'd written so far. Her lips tightened in concentration, her eyes strained as she leaned closer to re-read the same passage again and again. With a grunt, she selected the entire paragraph and hit delete. She needed to do better.
Giving a little chirp, Malky turned around in a circle, his bushy tail brushing over her face.
"Shoo, you little pest!" she exclaimed, shoving him a little, and he padded right across her laptop on his way to the other side of the table from where he leaped to the ground. Frantically, she rushed to delete the nonsensical character sequence he'd left behind on her document. "Bloody cat."
She didn't mean it, of course. She loved him. She imagined a child to pan out similarly: somewhat of a pain, somewhat of a joy, and on top of that, a whole lot of work. More work than a pet, she feared.
Grabbing her tea and taking a sip to calm herself, she once again perused the open pages in front of her. This shouldn't be so difficult. Not for her. If she believed in one thing, then it was her own strength of intellect. Relative to that of the majority of her peers at any rate. Then, anything but calm, she set the cup aside. With her long, sticklike forefinger tracing the lines, she muttered to herself, biting the thumb nail of her other hand. There must be a better way to amalgamate these points presented there. If she could only summon her concentration, she—
Behind her, the door opened, diverting her attention yet again. Though, to her own astonishment, she couldn't say that this sort of distraction was entirely unwelcome. Galinda would come to greet her, then leave her to complete her work, maybe even prepare fresh tea or snacks for her. She tended to be rather thoughtful that way.
"Welcome back, Miss Twinklestar," she called, grinning to herself. Suddenly, the perfect wording occurred to her, and she hastened to commit it all to the page before the fleeting spark of genius had a chance to escape her. Or before Galinda sprung up behind her, wrapping her in her arms and leaving her unable to write for just long enough so the thought would vanish.
A few minutes later, she skimmed through it all with satisfaction and a touch of pride. A decent progress at which to finish tonight's efforts perhaps? Maybe her blonde muse deserved a crumb of attention before they went to bed. Speaking of which…
"Galinda?" Elphaba cast a glance over her shoulder but couldn't immediately spot her. "Glin?"
She closed the laptop with a frown and neatly piled the books on top of each other, then got to her feet and headed for the corridor which, strangely enough, was still dark. Galinda had neglected to switch on the light after shutting the main door.
It didn't take her long to notice her cowering form by the door. Searching her purse? Had she lost her phone?
She turned on the light.
No. The purse lay about a metre away, abandoned and forgotten. Galinda was sitting on the floor, legs drawn up to her chest, arms wrapped around them, and her forehead resting on her knees. She was crying.
"Good Oz! Galinda!" She hurried up to reach her faster. "Hey. What's wrong? What happened?"
For just a clock-tick, Galinda glanced up at her with watery eyes. It was a sight she hoped to never behold again.
Maybe it was the excess of tears which always made Elphaba recoil out of instinct, despite not being her own. But even without them, seeing the other girl in such a state was beyond painful.
Within the blink of an eye, Galinda had buried her face again, and her shoulders were shuddering all the more terrifyingly, while her sobs became so much more heart wrenching.
"Fuck," Elphaba murmured under her breath as she stooped down to put a hand on her quivering shoulder. "What…" She licked her lips and cast a quick look up to the ceiling for unlikely help. This was too sudden, too unexpected. How could she possibly know what to do?
"Did someone hurt you?" she asked, hoping the answer was no, even though it would mean that she remained clueless for a while longer.
Mercifully, Galinda shook her head, and Elphaba drew a small breath of relief.
"What then?" she demanded, too impatiently. She corrected her tone immediately. "Did someone threaten or abuse you?"
"N—no."
Elphaba nodded and kept bobbing her head for a while as a way to reassure herself.
"Then it can't be as bad as all that."
"Y—you don't un—understand, Elphie," hiccuped Galinda. "I—it's a lot woe—worse."
What could possibly be worse? She had no answer to that. Her imagination must be lacking. But it didn't matter. If Galinda was in such agony, there was no time to argue over the cause and its severity.
Trying her hardest to overcome her reservations and pushing away her thoughts of torrents of wet tears, she made to wrap the miserable girl into her arms. The blonde freed a hand to hold it up in warning.
"I can deal with the tears," Elphaba told her firmly.
"Don—don't touch me. I di—did something terr—terrible."
"Shhhh," cooed Elphaba and went against Galinda's instructions to embrace her as swiftly and as lovingly as she could. "Calm down now, my sweet," she said, starting to rock them both back and forth. "I doubt that. I really do."
Galinda sniffled and wiped at her eyes in an attempt to dry any dampness before huddling closer. Her breaths still came in the form of small gasps, but she appeared to slowly settle down at last.
"I'm s—so sorry, Elphie. I'm really stu—stupid."
"Not really stupid, I'm sure. Though you still haven't told me what exactly went down to shake you up like this."
The explanation was not forthcoming, but Elphaba hardly minded. There was no need for one unless it was for Galinda's benefit. Content with being able to soothe her at all, the reason for such a breakdown meant little to her, especially if Galinda indicated herself at fault. She didn't intend to stir that pot unnecessarily.
They sat in quiet. When Galinda's sobs eventually subsided, Elphaba stopped her rocking and transitioned to rubbing her girlfriend's back in slow, circular motions instead. She checked to see whether Galinda might have fallen asleep, but putting even just the smallest distance between them so she could peer down at her prompted a strong reaction from the smaller girl. Evidence that she was far from asleep and still far from comforted.
Elphaba herself released a faint sigh. This kind of situation wasn't entirely new to her. Her sister had sometimes been inconsolable as a child, and she'd sat with her, uncomplaining, whispering soft words of reassurance and patting her shoulders. Needless to say, this had never been her strong suit. It didn't come entirely naturally to her. This would be a long, difficult night, she suspected.
"How about we move this to the couch?" she proposed. "I could make us a hot tea, or a coffee. Cocoa? Whatever appeals."
Her offer went unappreciated, and the silence between them stretched on. Elphaba had just shifted and rearranged her legs to get more comfortable when, out of nowhere, Galinda's thin voice piped up.
"Do… do you remember?" Elphaba heard her hem and swallow a lump in her throat. "That time when I came back from Avaric's party?"
A smile flashed across Elphaba's face. She gave silent thanks to Galinda's apparent improvement and hugged her a bit tighter.
"I'm sorry, my sweet, but you do go to a lot of parties and I—"
"The one after which I said that I told them about… about our friendship."
"Oh." Biting her lip, Elphaba gave a grave nod. "Yes. Of course I remember that one."
The account ended there for the time being, leaving Elphaba unusually curious. In her mind's eye, she relived the moment: the joy she'd felt, but also the conflicting feelings that had come with it. She decided to concentrate on the positive aspects and pressed a kiss to Galinda's forehead. The girl shrunk back from her tenderness as if she'd been slapped.
"I didn't tell you the full story," she suddenly bursted out, putting her hands on Elphaba's chest to stop her from coming too close again.
Elphaba's stomach lurched, and her heart sank. She didn't like where this was going.
"I have a friend," Galinda continued. "Had a friend?" The question got her sidetracked for a moment, until she shook her head and dismissed it. "He helped me out at that party. I… after my confession… their reactions overwhelmed me. I panicked. I tried to distract them, give them something else to talk about and fuss over. Something I could handle."
Closing her eyes, Elphaba took a deep breath.
"You pretended to be in love with him."
Galinda looked up at her with the widest eyes, her shock palpable. At length, she confirmed Elphaba's assertion with the tiniest sound possible. The green girl merely squeezed her hand in reassurance and let her lips twitch into something resembling a smile.
Swallowing hard, Galinda worked up the courage for the next harrowing detail.
"That in itself wouldn't have made much of a splash," she admitted. "But he… he's a Vinkun, you see? And a prince. Our supposed romance was the perfect sensation and softened the blow substantially. I got what I wanted. Except… what I didn't comprehend straight away were the longterm implications. Our need to continue this stupid game beyond that one evening."
"I know."
Elphaba had to clear her throat after that, realising that it was all choked up.
"All this while"—this was when Galinda began to tear up again—"I went behind your back. Boq knew. He saw us. I mean, everyone did, of course. But he was one of the very few people who knew about you and me. He gave me a good scolding, and I rebuffed him. I was just so desperate.
"And then… and then I found out that he… that he…"
"I know," Elphaba repeated, and only this time Galinda thought to hesitate at that.
"What—whatever do you mean by that?" she asked, too exhausted to manage confusion well.
A good question, a fair question. And a rather uncomfortable one.
"Whatever sense of betrayal prompted your tears," said Elphaba carefully, "it's unwarranted. Because this never was the secret you thought it was. After all… I knew"
Galinda sniffled and used a fistful of her sleeve's fabric to clean her face with.
"H—how? Boq. It must have been Boq! Elphie, please tell me!"
"Not at all," replied Elphaba, unable to maintain eye contact. She felt the heat flush her face with an intensity she was unfamiliar with. "I knew from the start. I… I heard."
The blonde's jaw dropped in horror, but after a moment, she had mostly composed herself.
"That's impossible. You—you were at work."
Elphaba had a feeling that her answer wouldn't sit well with Galinda, at least not initially. On the other hand, what else was there to tell but the full truth?
"My boss sent me home after I threw up like three times in one shift. Don't ask why. It obviously wasn't morning sickness at that stage. Anyway, I was back by nine or so, and since I actually did feel a bit under the weather, I went to bed. In my own room. Because you weren't here and, I couldn't be assed to drag myself up the stairs for nothing but an empty bed.
"I woke up to the sound of voices. I was already at the door, had opened it a tiny crack, when I realised that you weren't alone. So, I thought better of my plan to jump out and greet you. I stayed put, observed as well as I could and listened. Predominantly because I was still deciding whether I should come out or not.
"When I finally recognised your friend… well, I concluded that it wouldn't be the best of ideas to show my face."
Good. She'd explained it all. She was glad. Maybe she should have done this a lot earlier. Maybe it had been an unnecessary secret all this time. Maybe Galinda would have been more at ease if she'd known that there was no need to hide something like this from her. But it had been such a strange and daunting confession to make, and in the end, she'd never found the right moment or the right words.
Elphaba felt a tad lighter now that the truth was out, but in her arms, Galinda had stiffened.
"Come," Elphaba reiterated her earlier suggestion, "let's relocate to the couch."
She staggered to her feet, hoping to pull Galinda along with her, but the other girl made herself as heavy as a boulder, impossible to lift. Something about the way she was staring off to the side clued Elphaba in that things had gotten from bad to worse.
"Galinda?" she tried, then ran her hand though her hair. "Look, I'm not very good at this sort of stuff. Talk to me. I beg you."
In lieu of clear words, the pronounced heaving of Galinda's chest, the blank expression on her paler than ever features were obvious enough to prove that this wasn't a false alarm. Something was terribly wrong, and it was obvious enough for even Elphaba to understand that it had everything to do with what she had just confessed.
"Yes. You're right. I should have told you earlier," she relented. "It wasn't fair to leave you in the lurch like this. I—I just didn't know how."
"You don't get it at all, do you?" said Galinda, closing her eyes and mangling her lip like it wasn't an actual, living part of her body, susceptible to pain and injury. All Elphaba could do was to watch, speechless.
"Seriously, Elphaba. How could you? You knew about all of it then? The whole arrangement? You knew who I was with, whom I was—"
The tears were back. Though they weren't as plentiful as before, they were all the more visceral. The sounds that accompanied them were deeper, guttural. None of them reminded Elphaba of Galinda's usual high, clear voice. Never before had Elphaba been more desperate to swoop in and help the girl she cared for so much, and never before had she felt so powerless to do anything for her.
"Galinda, I'm sorry, I didn't realise how—"
"You let me kiss the man who did this to you!" cried out Galinda glaring up at her with red eyes that were alight with a fury Elphaba had never seen in them before. "Over and over and over. I was devastated when I found out, a cruel joke of fate or something. But you actually fucking knew and said nothing!"
She let her hand drop at last and took a step back, intimidated by her but also hoping that giving Galinda more space would perhaps go some way in curbing her anger. The result was questionable at best.
"Even now, all you say is nothing! Why, Elphaba? Why? Because you don't get it. You betrayed my trust in the worst possible way, and you don't even realise that! Or do you? Say something, for Oz's sake!"
"He was your friend," muttered Elphaba, frustrated with her own ineffectiveness. Had she ever felt this useless before?
"If I accidentally make friends with the captain of the Galeforce next, is that okay, too then? Hm?" retorted Galinda sharply.
Elphaba's brows furrowed at that. She took a second to consider her reply, only because she knew how distressed Galinda was and because of how conscious she was of her own guilt. In the end, her rationality won out.
"I don't think that that is a comparable scenario," she said slowly.
As perhaps expected, Galinda was fuming. Clumsily, she got to her feet, still backing against the door for support.
"Don't you remember at all how lost you were when I first found you? No matter how much you tried to sweep it all under the rug. You were confused, you were plagued by nightmares. You were pregnant with a child you couldn't possibly imagine carrying to term. You felt vulnerable, disturbed after an unwanted sexual encounter with that same man who then went on to embrace and kiss me under the pretence of a fake relationship!"
"And none of that was really his fault, was it?" Elphaba shot back, unable to contain herself.
Galinda stared back at her in pure shock, but Elphaba continued.
"He and I are equally to blame. As much as anyone under the influence of some unknown substance can be blamed."
She shook her head to clear it. It wasn't easy to revisit that night, but there was no other choice. Conjuring up a few of the fractured memories, she was surprised at how vivid they were now—much more so than they'd been in the days and weeks closer to the event. While most memories faded when disregarded, this kind only appeared to have strengthened over time.
"Neither of us actively resisted," she said in a much softer voice, crossing her arms and pressing them tightly against her chest before lowering her eyes, her unfocused gaze finding the grey tips of her otherwise black socks. "Neither of us forced the other to do anything either. I know it all sounds absurd; you weren't there. Thank Lurline, you weren't there."
She squeezed her eyes shut at the thought, then rubbed her face with both hands and opened them again.
"But, well, as far as I can tell, neither of us had the high ground. We were both equally impaired, equally unable to make informed, reasonable decisions. We both ran on primal instincts, fuelled by some sort of aphrodisiac. Or at least that's the best explanation I can offer, not truly knowing how this place operates.
"As far as I'm aware—though you might know better, since you are more familiar with this Fiyero—the man is not a dangerous predator. He was in thrall to the circumstances, as much as I. He posed no danger to me or you."
Galinda took a long while to respond after that. Her head moved from one side to the other, her feet shuffled on the ground, kicking at imaginary dirt. Elphaba could see the struggle within her to speak at all.
"Well, I dare say he didn't lose nearly as much sleep over this as you did," she finally said in a dour tone.
"You—you two talked about that?"
Elphaba was too dumbstruck to dissect on the spot how she felt about that, other than maybe a little shocked.
"No, not really. But he's by now aware of the fact that he fucked my girlfriend and simply described the situation as awkward." She scoffed. "I'd venture true remorse would present itself differently."
"I was in the wrong place at the wrong time," maintained Elphaba, trying to mentally gloss over Galinda's rendering of their encounter. For it to be described this way made her more uncomfortable than was reasonable. "I suspect most patrons of that godforsaken place come better prepared for what it has to offer. As far as I know, he was as oblivious as I, being a foreigner and all. Owing to his prior experience and general tendencies, I surmise he took it in a stride, and I'm glad for him. Why wouldn't I be? Should I wish him ill instead? It wasn't his fault that someone like me stumbled into this awful place at the same time as he."
"I don't know if any of this matters," said Galinda, dashing Elphaba's hopes of being able to assuage her anger through straight forward reasoning. "I can't forgive him for what he did." She didn't care to elaborate on which of his crimes she was referring to. Probably both. "Right now I don't even know whether I can forgive you."
Those words hit Elphaba unprepared and harder than she could possibly have imagined. They at last proved the existence of her soul, which she'd questioned all her life—by setting it on fire and burning it to ashes. Now she truly had none left to boast.
"Galinda, please. I'd give anything to turn back the clock. But I can't, so instead of fixing the past, I vow to do better in the future. You can't be so harsh on me. I'm still learning, still figuring out how this works. Give me another chance!"
"You seriously need to learn this? Have you ever heard of common sense? Common decency? Do you lack both? I thought you were so freaking smart!"
"Well, it wasn't me who decided to save their ass with a fake relationship."
Her regret was immediate. The look in her love's eyes told her that the blow had landed. She'd at long last confirmed the validity of Galinda's fears, despite not meaning to at all. How had she reverted to such a stupid move when she wasn't even mad at any of that. Typical. Cleverness forsook her in her most desperate moment. She'd been there before. Wherever feelings got involved, the clarity of rationality vanished, and she ended up groping in the dark for answers.
"Why didn't you bloody stop me if you knew?" demanded Galinda, pulling her from her distracted thoughts.
Elphaba blinked, repeating the question in her head to properly process it.
"I… I thought I was being tolerant and patient," she said, for the first time putting these previously abstract feelings into words. She couldn't recall explaining to herself why she'd reacted the way she had, why she'd done what she'd done. In a way, this was cathartic in its own right.
"I figured that I should be fine with it," she continued. "If that was what you needed right then. I was worried that I'd already pushed you too far and too fast. I didn't want to risk losing you."
To her great disappointment, Galinda remained determined to find fault in that.
"You should have at least talked to me," she said, clenching and unclenching her fists around her sleeves.
"Then why didn't you talk to me?" countered Elphaba. "You were just as afraid that I wouldn't accept your way of dealing with the challenge. Perhaps we both didn't trust each other enough and made the exact same mistake."
"So you admit that you don't trust me?"
They were at an impasse. At this rate, the back and forth would last an eternity. Exhausted and irritable, Elphaba threw up her hands and turned away.
"Fine," she snapped. "I give up. There's no pleasing you and I'm done playing this stupid game. Blame me, blame him, blame yourself, blame everyone! I've reached my capacity of caring for one night. All a person can do is try, and I tried so freaking hard. I'm done."
"Bloody wonderful!" yelled Galinda. "How you accept responsibility and admit your mistakes. Not. Instead you're walking away. Exactly like you did that night. One word from you would have prevented everything. But no, you stuck your head in the sand and let me walk straight into this mess.
"Well, have it your way. Go away, go to sleep. I hope you're happy. I hope you have pleasant dreams about the girl you claim to love in the arms of the man who had all of you in the dingy, dirty basement of some nightclub!"
The next sound Elphaba heard was the slamming of a door. She whirled around to frantically scan that side of the corridor. Galinda was nowhere to be seen. The door to her old room, which they usually kept half open for Malky to explore at his pleasure, was firmly closed. She hadn't seen this coming. She hand't expected Galinda to suddenly disappear on her.
Growling a few choice expressions, she stormed towards the door and knocked.
"Galinda." She knocked again. "Galinda!" A few more knocks followed, to no avail. She wasn't crazed enough to rip the door open and storm into the room.
Resigned, she rested her forehead against the wood. Her hand balled into a fist, and she only narrowly managed to keep herself from slamming it in frustration. Ozdammit! If she'd known that she wouldn't see Galinda again that night, she would have been a bit more careful. Or perhaps not. There was only so much she could do to control herself when she was already at the end of her tether.
She took a few deep breaths in and out, leaning into the door so she didn't have to carry her own weight. One more time. She'd try one more time.
She knocked, then called her name. Gently. Softly. Still no response. Admitting defeat, she turned her back, resting against the door for a moment before pushing herself off and dragging her sorry ass first to the kitchen, then upstairs.
Later that same night Elphaba came back downstairs to put her plate in the dishwasher and refill her mug. Already as she descended the polished concrete steps, her eyes were drawn to the barely visible door at the other end of the corridor. When she'd finished what she'd come down for, she could not leave without stopping by her old room.
She stood in front of the door, her free hand raised and poised to knock. She listened. Maybe Galinda was still up, comforting herself with music, a movie or stupid video compilations on WizzTube. But there were no detectable sounds filtering through from the other side.
"Galinda?" she said quietly. Too quietly to be heard without fail. Even in the absence of an answer, she didn't try again. She didn't knock either in the end. Letting her hand sink, she only heaved a tired sigh and pinched the bridge of her nose. She turned around to go to bed, hoping for at least a measure of peace and rest for the night.
She got neither of those, despite drifting off to sleep several times due to pure exhaustion. What was worse, her own emotional state seemed to have rubbed off onto her child. Or otherwise she was simply too alert to miss their nightly acrobatic routine as she usually would while sound asleep.
By six thirty she'd had enough of the kicks and punches that alternated in turns with those pesky false contractions which made her belly feel harder than a rock. Walking generally tended to help, especially with the former. The swinging motion resulting from her by now somewhat waddling penguin gait often soothed baby and lulled them back to sleep. In her humble, personal opinion, being on her feet but comfortable beat lying down while the little one was partying in utero.
Consequently, she heaved herself out of bed and decided to start her day early by getting dressed and preparing for a stroll through the neighbourhood. Malky approved mightily when she took a minute to feed him first and did nothing to prevent her from leaving once the meat pâté was on his plate.
Again she stopped by Galinda's door and listened, hoping against hope that something would give. However, yet again, there was only silence, and she saw herself forced to walk past without opening it. The disappointment made her steps all the heavier when she left the house and stepped out into the warm, humid air.
She walked up the slope and towards campus, then took a left turn in the direction of Scholars Hill. Her mind, in a lousy attempt at self-preservation, latched on to the pleasant monotone of legs striding forward at a constant pace and the sensation of the steady but insufficient morning breeze in her face. Distance and time were nothing but a vague concept to her, until she reached Ticknor Circus and realised that the pain in her lower back had intensified enough to bother her.
"Perfect," she grumbled to herself and gingerly lowered herself down onto a bench outside a compact, little supermarket, tucked away in between the old heritage buildings of the street. She rubbed the small of her back before pulling her phone out of the back pocket of her jeans. Figures. Without noticing, she'd marched on and on for almost three hours—not a minor feat in her current condition. The fact that there were no frantic messages from Galinda yet spoke volumes.
Just as she thought that, her phone rang. It wasn't her angry girlfriend though. Her sister's name lighting up the display elicited but another groan from her, and without thinking too much about it, she dismissed the call. The emotional and physical toll of the past few months was finally catching up with her it seemed. She suddenly didn't know anymore how to set one foot in front of the other, neither physically, nor metaphorically. She needed a break from soldiering on. If only a brief one.
Easing into that tiny concession she'd finally made for herself took a while. Chronically impatient, a habitual busybody, settling down in one place—albeit for no more than a couple of minutes—and doing nothing wasn't a natural state of being for her. Although, from a rational point of view, she did understand that it might benefit her at occasions.
But it wasn't mind over matter any longer. Her body was on strike. Whenever she tried to tell herself that it was time to get up and move on, it protested too vehemently for her to ignore, leaving her no other option but to sink back into her seat. Frustrated, but maybe with a smidgen of relief at the back of her head. After all, where was she supposed to go anyway? Not having to broach that problem just yet was comforting, she had to admit.
Under normal circumstances she might have called up Galinda. Not right off the bat, of course, as she was loath to take the easy way out. However, over the duration of their cohabitation, her girlfriend had managed to soften her up just enough to make her accept a favour when she most needed one. Only now, she might actually be in need of help and her go to helper was out of commission. This was where pure self-reliance came out superior: it prevented such regrets and disappointments.
Before long, Nessa called again, and Elphaba glared at the phone as if to will it not to accept any further communication attempts from that number. Nessa was the opposite of help. The younger girl herself might be trying to request her assistance, who knew? But she had Nanny to sort such things out for her if that was the case. Elphaba needn't feel bad for ignoring her in times like this, or so the common advice seemed to go. She worked hard on thoroughly convincing herself of that much and almost succeeded. In the end, she put her stubborn refusal to answer the call down to plain selfishness and left it at that.
Besides, her sister might not actually require help of any sort. She could just as well be calling to find out and see whether Elphaba had come to regret her lifestyle choices already. Well, she hadn't. Despite the mess she was currently in, she seriously hadn't. This had nothing to do with whom she loved and how. Only—and only in part—with the way she'd gone about it. Her saint sister had not won over her yet. In fact, chances were she never would.
But what about Boq?
Her friend's name popped into her mind so suddenly that she wasn't exactly sure why. Did her subconscious mean for her to ask him for support? How could he possibly be of any help? He could keep her company, she supposed, but that wasn't something she longed for. Not today, not on most days. She liked to think that she mostly tolerated rather than enjoyed his presence, though that wasn't entirely fair or true. In any case, he certainly wasn't a relationship expert either, nor could he offer reliable transportation. She could try talk to him anyway, mostly for the benefit of another pair of eyes to analyse her situation. But she wasn't sure if she wanted to relive the past twelve hours of her life so soon. It was all still too fresh.
Now that she saw herself forced to think on it, there was indeed one more candidate she might consider reaching out to, if probably not straight away. Fiyero. Sweet Oz, Fiyero, that smooth, handsome fool who'd upended her life—
No. That was Galinda talk. He'd hardly had any part in that. Saying so would deny Elphaba her own agency and responsibility—as much as she could claim either, given the bizarre circumstances of their encounter. That already irked her enough, without shifting the remaining blame onto him.
Though he might be somewhat at fault for his strange taste in women. As far as she could tell, no other man had ever looked twice at her. Especially not in that specific way. And what had Galinda said he was? A prince? Ha! The irony of it all, the absurdity!
Either way; after that one night at the Philosophy Club she handed't anticipated to ever meet the handsome stranger again. Seeing as he was a Vinkun native, she had hardly expected him to be a permanent resident of this town, much less a fellow student at the local university.
She'd dodged him for a whole semester without even intending to. Her part-time lecture schedule and inherent disinclination to mingle with her peers had been very conducive to that, she supposed, but luck must have played into it as well. Galinda's namedrop earlier this year… she'd panicked about that for maybe half a second, then discounted it as a coincidence and forgotten about it. A survival instinct in all likelihood.
The full, inescapable truth had only manifested itself when Galinda had brought the guy home with her. While Elphaba chose to believe that she couldn't have reliably recognised his voice, she had certainly remembered his face, as well as the stunning markings on his skin. Maybe Galinda was right. Maybe she should have intervened. Or maybe she should have tried to contact him independently after that. And then what? Should she have told him to back off, or should she have revealed to him the consequences of his uncanny interest in her?
Regardless, in many ways, not having any say in the matter had been easier. A lot easier. There'd been no father to go with the child she carried, there had been no real, tangible person she could associate the fateful incident with. It had been all about her and her decisions and her solutions. Her life and how she decided to go on with it. But now there was a man to fill in those gaps, and she didn't know what to do with that new reality.
Her phone. It rang again. Elphaba wished she could dunk it into the next best trashcan without regretting it later. She didn't bother looking at it and let the music continue until her voicemail kicked in.
But she'd come to the end of her line of thought it would seem and still had reached no form of sensible conclusion. What an unsatisfactory result, what a waste of a good hour. Her tummy began to rumble, alerting her to the fact that she'd foregone sustenance for the sake of tranquility this morning. She used to be more tolerant of such oversights, but inside, the baby unmistakably cried for food.
The final straw was an old biddy with a gaggle of unruly, yappy lapdogs who studied Elphaba intensely as she walked up to the shop and continued to do so as she tied up her animals on the bike rack. With her curiosity not seeming to be of the friendly kind, the green girl decided that she better be gone before the woman returned.
There was no grand plan as to where she intended her feet to carry her next. Very much like on the first leg of her impromptu hike, she tried to think as little as possible and rather lost herself in the journey itself. At length, be it coincidence or subconscious design, she looked up from her worn sneakers, finding herself in a rather familiar part of town. She paused, looked up at the cubical new build sitting square in the middle of a small park and groaned at herself. Now that she was here, however, she felt obliged to enter.
"What in the Unnamed God's name are you doing here!" exclaimed Nessarose as Elphaba stepped into her poky yet cosy living room. Nanny, who'd opened the door for her, followed close behind, keeping her own opinions to herself.
Elphaba's initial reply was a grimace of a smile.
"You called," she said simply.
"Well, yes." Making eye contact with her caretaker, Nessa bade the woman to sit next to her and prop her up while she composed herself. "But normal people would simply pick up their phone, not race across town and barge in unannounced."
"I didn't race anywhere," grunted Elphaba. "I wasn't in the mood to talk, but I happened to pass by, so here I am."
"And you came up all those stairs only to not talk?"
"What is it you want, Nessa?" she asked tiredly. "Why did you call?"
"I haven't heard from you in a while, is all," the younger Thropp replied huffily. "I wanted to ensure that you're doing well."
"Ensure that I'm regretting my choices more like."
"Don't be like that, Fabala. We're sisters."
Scoffing, Elphaba shoved her hands into her pockets.
"So you forgive me? You're ready to give me your blessing?"
"Well, not that. I cannot, in any shape or form, condone whatever you've got going on with that girl."
"Galinda," she reminded her.
Nessa laughed mirthlessly.
"Oh please! Don't be ridiculous. I haven't forgotten her precious name."
"You just hate her that much?"
"It's not as if she likes me any better. As jealous as she is of our sisterly bond."
"Not nearly as jealous as you are of hers and mine."
"You're mistaken. I'm not jealous in the least. I'm disapproving of the nature of your relationship because I care about you, and it is my conviction that she has an uncanny hold over you."
"She does not. I, as always, remain my very own, contrary self. Could you ever imagine me otherwise? I only indulge her whims when it suits me, and I'm not afraid to disagree with her or do the opposite of what she asks. Our commitment to each other isn't that fragile."
She could have gone on and on there, if only to goad her sibling, but her own words prompted her to stop and think about what she'd just said. Well, she still believed all that, in spite of what had transpired the night before. In fact, she needed to believe all the more fervently now in order to keep herself from falling apart. This, she realised, was bordering on faith, and she was surprised that she accomplished it so easily.
"If you cannot give up your strange obsession with her, you should at least give up the child," Nessarose then suggested, her expression so grave that Elphaba was beyond any doubt that she was entirely serious.
"You can't possibly suggest that a child would benefit from being abandoned by their family."
"Only in the most extreme cases, of course," allowed Nessa.
"So you're equating our relationship with abuse and neglect?"
The idea alone was preposterous. That her own sister could perpetuate it was beyond belief. Besides that, she found that she felt startlingly defensive—not only over the insult itself, but over her decision, her right to raise her own offspring.
"Families like ours are well connected, you know," Nessarose went on, unconcerned by the horror that surely must have been evident in Elphaba's face. "The child needn't end up in the foster system. Suitable, well to do parents could be found elsewhere. That's the way those things are done. And then you'd be free to take your rightful place." The corners of her mouth twitched before she could finish her exposition. "Perhaps even with that girl by your side, if you manage the situation carefully."
"Oz, Nessa," Elphaba was furious and didn't have the energy to hide it all that well. "I never thought I'd see the day that I have to walk away from you. I thought I'd be able to handle anything you could possibly throw at me. Disregard it maybe, but endure it at the very least. I regret to say that I've reached my limit today."
"You're not being fair, Elphaba," Nessa protested. "All I said was the truth."
"If that's your truth, I'm afraid our views are irreconcilable."
Her phone chimed. This time it couldn't be Nessa. She pulled it out of her pocket and glanced at the screen.
"I gotta go," she said as she stowed it away again.
"You could stay for lunch," Nanny piped up for the first time, her smile broad and welcoming. "I already prepared a nice Sunday roast."
Elphaba knew that she couldn't possibly be that oblivious, but the old woman's bid at playing peacemaker would remain fruitless.
"Thanks, but that won't be necessary."
Nessarose breathed heavily and worked her face to make up for the lack of a pair of expressive arms.
"It was her, wasn't it? Recalling you like a hound."
"Nessa, this conversation is long over."
"And just like that, you're running back to her! When did you last stay to spend more of your time with me?"
"For years I've done everything I could for you and it hasn't been enough. And nothing ever will be."
"Elphaba, wait!"
"Next time we meet it will be on my terms. I hope you can understand."
"Bye, Nanny," she nodded her head in the direction of her former minder. "Be good to Nessa. I won't be around for a while."
Nanny remained silent on the matter, her lips turned inward. Elphaba chose to interpret this as the old woman not wishing to say anything against her remaining charge. To keep life easy for both of them.
She saw herself to the door, waving her hand no when Nanny rose to her feet and took a step forward to accompany her. She massaged the small of her back as she walked and flinched slightly. This would be a long way home, and she wasn't even certain what kind of welcome she should expect to find there.