The Road Less Travelled – Part Three
The companion piece to Laura's Miles To Nowhere Part Three (surely you get the idea by now…?)
Spoilers:
Author: Cath
Feedback: All to
Summary: A night on the town and Abby is still no more distracted by Carter… (silly girl…)
Where Can I find the rest of the stories? Go to
Disclaimer: As much as I love Abby and Carter, they're not mine, although I think I own the desk clerk (well, I tell her what to do, anyway…) and that's really about it.
Notes: Am still not American (weird, that) Have no more knowledge about gambling and roulette than Laura (although I hear the Russian version is quite fun…) but it's fiction, so they can play however they damn want.
I'm not getting paid to write this (sadly), but I am getting paid to be a ward clerk (temporarily) to pay my university debts, (and I'm thinking that the hospital staff are regretting that decision…) so please don't sue me.
~*~ The Road Less Travelled: Part Three ~*~
We get to the airport motel and Abby collects our bags from the car whilst I go to check in.
The desk clerk there, a wide eyed, perky young girl with bright red hair aptly named Cherry (or so her nametag tells me) informs me that yes, they do have two rooms spare, and would that be smoking or non-smoking?
I briefly think of Abby before informing Cherry that it we would like smoking.
Abby then comes in with the two bags, and I pay for the room on my American Express Gold Card. Cherry smiles at Abby, who reciprocates half-heartedly before shooting me a glare that suggests that she doesn't have the time nor the inclination to be here right now.
Cherry chatters on inanely, but I don't really listen as Abby is far more the center of my focus at the moment. I sign my name on the dotted line, take my bag from Abby and grab the keys that Cherry hands over. She grins widely at me, gives me a quick wink that I don't understand and points us in the direction of our rooms.
Abby and I walk in silence until we reach her room.
"So, are you going to take her up on her offer?", Abby asks, and I have no idea what she's talking about.
"Huh?" I reply so eloquently.
"Cherie was offering to show you the best places to go in Vegas." Abby smiles this time and it looks almost out of place.
"Really, I have no idea what you're talking about." I say, and I honestly don't.
This gets a laugh from Abby. "The underage desk clerk was flirting with you. I thought you went for that type." She says teasingly, and I eventually understand that whilst my attention was completely on Abby, the desk clerk was trying to chat me up. I'd usually deny such things, and try and cut the conversation short, but I've missed Abby, the real Abby, and so I'm going to let her tease me as long as she wants.
"Yes, you've got me, I like the thrill of trying not to be caught sleeping with 16 year olds." I say sarcastically. It's really not true, and that one incident with Rena was completely due to the fact that she looked 26. At least.
Abby laughs at this, and I don't care that she's having fun at my expense. But it's short lived. Something in Abby's demeanour changes, as though she was caught having fun and its wrong so soon after her mom has died and she makes excuses about having to go to her room and have a shower.
Reluctantly I go to my own room and have a quick shower and change my clothes. I want to go to Abby and make sure that she is okay, but I know that she needs space, she's been with me for the whole time of our trip, and I think that it can probably be suffocating after a while.
So I sit and watch reruns of Friends episodes on NBC for a while, but not really watching. I'm thinking instead. Thinking about Abby, about Luka, about Maggie, and even about Rena.
Rena broke things off with me because she thought that there was too much competition between her and Abby. At the time I thought that she was out of her mind. What could a 19 year old know about these things, and Abby and I joked about it as we brought Maggie back to Chicago all those many months ago.
My god, was it really so long ago that I spent those days driving across the country trying to prevent something happening, the something that has now happened. Trying to prevent Abby falling apart and in denial so much that I didn't understand what compelled me to be with her, but that I knew that it was right. And that was all that mattered.
Now I can do nothing to stop the incessant thoughts about Abby, not even the fact that she is grieving over the death of her mother. The thoughts just manifest themselves in a wish to help her in anyway I can, be it pay for her to escape from her life, or to listen if she were ever to need someone to talk to. But it seems that she doesn't, not to me, anyway.
I now know almost without a doubt that she thinks of me only as a friend, and if that is the only way to be near her, it'll have to do. Despite what I said about only being friends (and see what a response that got) I'd rather have that than nothing at all.
The episode ends and Ross and Jennifer Aniston have got ridiculously drunk in a casino in Vegas, Monica and the brown-haired one have decided to get married, and god only knows what the blonde ditzy one, and the other one are up to. I haven't really been paying attention, but it gives me the idea of what Abby and I can be doing tonight. Not, obviously, getting drunk, but playing roulette and craps and those slot machines in a cheesy Vegas casino in one of those wonderfully OTT hotels.
I get off the bed and turn off the TV in one movement, find the keys for the door, grab my wallet and exit the room. I walk over to Abby's room and quietly knock on the door and call her name. I hear nothing in reply, and think that perhaps she couldn't hear me. I start to call again, and then think twice. Perhaps she was ignoring me on purpose. I mean, the guy across the hall heard me, he's just exited his room to make sure that I wasn't the ex of the not unattractive blonde who exited with him (also apparently named Abby), trying to ruin his night. I assure him that I'm not (especially since he looks as though he could easily kick my ass into the next state, and I really don't want to be back in Arizona, thank you very much…) and they both retreat back to their room. I'm stood there looking lost, not knowing what to do. So I decide to go into her room without calling again. It's probably the wrong thing to do, and hopefully Abby's in there just wanting to be left alone, and will yell at me as soon as I enter the room.
But then I open the door and see that that's not the case. "Abby." I call out, mostly to reassure her that I'm not some lunatic trying to break into her room (although it would be less disconcerting if I actually had to use a key to get in…) and then I see her. She's curled up on her bed, her head underneath the pillows, and I know that everything isn't okay when I hear her cries. I'm not sure what to do, I'm always awkward in these situations, and so I hesitantly start to rub my hand along her back in soothing motions as much as I can and tell her that I'm here, everything will be okay. She relaxes somewhat beneath my touch, and I feel as though I am helping somewhat. I resist the urge to reach out and hold her in my arms until her crying completely stops, but I'm not sure that it would help her. I continue with softly assuring her that I'm here for her, brushing the back of her shirt with my hand until I'm not sure that she hasn't fallen asleep, she is so quiet.
I gently call out to her, so I won't disturb her if she has fallen asleep, and ask if she wants to get out from here.
I think she asks "where?" from beneath the pillow, but it could just as easily have been "chair" for all I could hear. Not that it would have made sense, but still.
"We could play a few slot machines, waste all our money on the roulette wheel. Maybe even take in a show," I say, thinking of the Friends episode. "After all we are in Vegas." She doesn't answer, so I touch her back softly to make sure that she hasn't fallen asleep again. "C'mon, it'll be fun."
She brings her head slightly out from under the pillow, her hair all mussed up, and asks "Fun?"
I rethink that idea. "Well, maybe not fun, but it beats staying in and staring at four walls all evening."
"Actually, I was thinking about staring at the floor too – just for a change of scenery." And I internally smile at the joke that she is trying to make. However, I grab her arm and attempt to drag her off the bed and out the door. I make it as far as getting her to sit up, but it's a start. "Right, that's it," I say, "You're coming out for a night on the town whether you like it or not."
"Oh, really. And you're going to make me are you?" Yup. I think so. I quickly evaluate the situation, and decide that the best way forward is to pull her over my shoulder and give her a fireman's lift out of the room. So I do. "Hey!" She squeals, kicking the air with her legs to no avail. "Let me down!"
"Nope," I say, I'm having far too much fun. However she takes an unforeseen tactic, and grabs the doorframe, and she's holding on too tight for me to take her any further. I yield.
Or I would if she hadn't first. "Okay, okay, I'll come. But only if you let me shower first."
"Meet you downstairs in twenty minutes?" I say walking back to the bed and placing her back on it.
"Whatever," she replies, and attempts to give me an evil look, but it fails.
"Phew," I say, "I'm glad I didn't have to carry you all the way down to the lobby – you're heavier than you look." And I ham it up as much as I can, feigning backache.
"Bastard," she yells as I exit, and it's all I can do to stop myself from laughing.
She meets me, true to her word, twenty minutes later, and we decide to wander around and eat the first place we come across, as I, for one, am famished.
It's shortly after that we come to 'Joe's Diner', a 24 hour burger joint that costs $1 more for each item to eat in than outside in the small 'park' on the benches across the street. So we decide to eat take away, as it's a nice evening, and the prices are extortionate enough without the several dollars extra.
We eat the burgers, making small talk as I try my best to cheer Abby up without doing so obviously.
We throw away the empty cartons of the remainders of our meal, and I take her towards a casino. I take her hand, and she doesn't let go, so I take that as an encouraging sign and pull her closer towards me. However, she must think the opposite, so edges away almost hoping that I won't notice, and when she lets go my hand feels cold again, but I'll get over it.
"So, have you ever been to Vegas before?" She asks, not looking at me.
"Once. On some family function." I tell her, and dig my hands in my pockets hoping to get back some of the warmth. It makes no difference. "We stayed in the best hotel and bet ridiculous sums of money, just so our winnings could be donated to charity. It was all very civilised and mundane, and I spent the entire time wanting to escape and explore on my own. What about you?"
"I vacationed here with my ex once," she says after a brief contemplation of some description. "A little while after we were married – he lost half our savings playing blackjack, came on to every croupier in sight and I spent the entire weekend on a drinking binge."
"So, things can only get better, right?" I say, as we ironically walk by a drunk passed out on the street, seemingly in his own vomit.
"Pretty much." She says, and it seems that she managed to miss looking at the drunkard. Lucky her.
We enter the casino, and are immediately assaulted by the bright lights, unending sounds of people and machines mixed into a cacophony, and people in different costumes trying to convince you to part with yet more of your money for various reasons.
I try to block it all out as I go to the kiosk and ask (well, yell) at the guy for chips to the value of $5000. The guy looks at me doubtfully, I obviously don't look as though I've got enough money in my rumpled pants and sweater, but doesn't question me and hands over the chips in exchange for my credit card.
"You don't intend betting all of that do you?" I hear Abby ask in disbelief, and as I turn round the expression on her face is almost comical.
"Why not? It's only interesting when the stakes are high. The only risks worth taking are big ones." I say, not knowing what I mean. Or, I know what I mean, but it's not quite what I'm saying. It's the whole double meaning that seems to be associated with this trip, and it can apply to almost any sentence, and I only realise this after I say it.
"But what if you mess up. What if you lose it all?" She asks and it strikes me that she's almost as excited by the whole prospect of doing something so irrational and unlike our usual characters as I am.
"That's just a chance I have to take." I say, and I try to figure out what I mean by this comment. Definitely in the context of gambling but gambling with what? Money? Feelings? Perhaps both, perhaps neither. I'm not sure I even know. "Put them on any number you like." I tell Abby, trying to get out of my inner thoughts, and I hand her the chips.
She looks at me as if I have gone insane, which considering my thoughts earlier this week, perhaps I have. "Oh no, buddy. You can be responsible for losing your own money." She replies, but I don't care. I want her to do this, for her own sake. To make herself believe that she can do things, and it doesn't matter if she loses, as long as she tries.
"Just put them on a number. I don't care." I say, and I really don't. For the fact that $5000 is very little in the scheme of things in my family as much as any other reason.
She looks uncertain, but chooses black 27 regardless.
We wait for other people to place their bets, and then the game starts. We watch the wheel spin and spin into a red black blur, confusing and undefined - much like this thing between us.
But I ignore the parallels as much as I can as the wheel begins to slow, and it all comes back into focus. Slowing down, slow, slow, slow, stop.
Abby shrieks and I hear someone announce black 27, and I realise that we won.
"There, I knew you could do it." I tell her, although to be honest, I didn't actually think we'd win.
I tell her to try again, and we go through the same process. Round and round the wheel spins, not quite out of control, but almost, gravity finally pulling it to a stop…on the red 14 that Abby had chosen. I look over at her and she looks so happy and so beautiful in that moment, unaware that I'm watching her that I want to pull her into a hug and tell her things that I shouldn't tell her. But I can't because it's not the right place or the right time.
So I settle for reassuring her that I knew that she'd win when she squeals in delight at her second success.
I tell her to go for it a third time, telling her that she's on a winning streak, but she reminds me that it's bad luck to say things like that. She chooses red 18, and she seems sure about it for a game that's completely about chance.
As the ball slows I will it to go on red 18, not for the money, but for Abby. I glance at her out of the side of my eye, watch as she follows the ball round the wheel as much as she can, especially when it slows down enough that you can see it visibly.
I look back at the wheel, and the ball comes to a stop, and I see where it stopped. The croupier announces red 18, and it's all the confirmation that Abby needs to start celebrating at her third victory, and she jumps up and down before throwing herself around onto me, her arms around my shoulders, and I grab her tight and spin her round. A mimicry of the ball spinning around the wheel. Although I'm not sure who the ball or the wheel is, and I'm not sure that I care at this moment.
"You see, I knew we'd make a good team." I tell her, and I mean it. But she extricates herself from me as though the moment is too awkward for her, and I can't stop her.
We play various games the rest of the night. I try my hand at craps, and lose a fair amount as I can't quite remember the rules, which doesn't help.
Still, we come away with a gain, and Abby comes away with somewhat of a smile, which makes it all worthwhile.
Finally we hit the slot machines, and waste a large amount trying over and over again to make a profit.
"So, has this been exciting enough for you?" I ask as I put yet another quarter in the machine, destined to never be seen again.
"The winning wasn't exactly half-bad," she admits.
"Better than staying locked up in your hotel room all night?"
"Yeah, okay, I'm glad you dragged me out – is that what you wanted to hear?" She looks over at me, and I can't help but smile at this admission.
"Pretty much." I say, but it's only half-true. I think that this is one of those moments that made the trip worthwhile, the reason that I actually decided to go along with this mad plan, as it wasn't exactly for my health. We reach into the quarter bucket at the same time, and our hands touch and it feels right. "I missed you, Abby." I think, and then realise that I said it aloud. I'm not sure if I should say it but she doesn't hit me so I take that as a positive response. I look down and notice that I've subconsciously taken her hand in my own, and there's nothing I can do.
"I missed you too." She says, and it makes me inexplicably happy to hear her say it. I've come to the conclusion that I love her without a doubt, and there's nothing I can do about that, either. I can't make it go away, and sometimes I think she feels the same, and other times I'm not sure.
She begins to turn away from me, and I think there's only one way to find out whether she feels anything beyond friendship for me, and it's a defining moment. Do I go for it, or do I surrender her to Luka, or whoever it is that she may love.
Again, my mind takes over, and my fingers find their way to her chin, pulling her back towards me, and I'm now leaning in, closer, closer, closer, and she shows no resistance. Perhaps, like me, she doesn't know what is happening. Finally, after what seems like forever, we make contact, and share a small kiss before she pulls back alerted by the slot machine.
For a moment there something happened, and I'm not sure what it was, and all I know is that it felt like it was how it was supposed to be.
Perhaps we just weren't meant to be. But that doesn't mean I'm going to surrender that easily.
"Hey, you won again," I say as soon as I can coherently speak.
"Yeah," She comments "It must be my lucky night."
Maybe, maybe not, but I'm beginning to think that it was mine. I'm in love with one of my best friends, and she didn't hit me when I kissed her.
It's a start.
To be continued?
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