The Contract : Chapter Five
Dawn
The room was as dark and drab as usual when he entered it for the meeting he was accustomed to having with Luna before their official conference with Serenity. He glanced at it and smirked at the woman who stood barely visible in the poor light. "Operating at status quo, I see."
"Hello, Artemis." Her voice was careful and guarded. He frowned.
"Why Luna, whatever happened to your usual civility?"
She frowned. "I'm being perfectly civil."
Deciding that this line of talk would get him no where, he abandoned it. "Well, whether you are or not, that isn't what I came here to talk to you about?"
"You mean there is a reason for this get together other than business?" Her sarcastic surprise made him sigh tiredly.
"It's business that I want to discuss with you, Luna love, if you would stop being so obtuse." She said nothing, and he could feel her glower from where he stood. Deciding that her silence meant he could continue, he pressed on. "I've thought of something to do that would help our little project along."
She raised an eyebrow. He moved to sit on the couch, and she came to stand near him. "You have my undivided attention."
"The spying we've been doing on them has been extensive and complete, and I'm sure you've come to the same conclusion I have from the information we've gathered: things aren't moving fast enough." She opened her mouth to speak, he held up a hand to stop her. "Yes, I know you'll write this off as another proof that I seek instant gratification, but with this project, things need to move quickly. They need to make the right connections between each other and work before their past their prime, or forgotten by the public eye. Right now both figureheads hold considerable sway over the people. All that could diminish."
"What's your plan?"
He smiled, it was characteristic of Luna not to validate his theories and move on to the problem at hand. Characteristic, but annoying. "They need a little push in the right direction."
She sighed in frustration. "Artemis, you know as well as I do that people cannot be forced to collaborate."
"I do. But that wasn't the kind of push I was talking about. At this moment, they've lost track of their goals, of their careers. They think all is lost, that they won't be allowed to do anything ever again because the Augustus Company holds all the strings. They don't realize the only boundaries are in their minds, that the Company won't hold them back. We need to empower them so that they can move forward once more."
There was no witty comeback. He looked up at his partner and was pleasantly surprised to see her considering, seriously considering this theory. When she spoke, the mocking tone had left her voice. "You still haven't told me what you plan to do."
"We need to let them know, anonymously, of course, how to proceed."
"Well, that's not going to be easy."
"It is your area of expertise, Luna. If you would help me, I would gladly leave the planning in your capable hands."
She smiled and sat next to him. "Flattery will get you no where."
"So you'll do it?" He hoped his tone held the right amount of plead, that he hadn't over done it.
She smirked up at him. "What, not going to shower me with more of your trademark charm?"
He quirked an eyebrow. "I think the charm-showering can wait until a time when our boss is not five minutes from walking in on us. When we reach such a time," he reached down and ran two fingers down her arm, "believe me, you'll be more than showered enough."
"Is that a bribe?"
He smiled, his expression intimate. "Do you want it to be?"
Makoto
It was raining, in thick, heavy drops that fell with a soft thud-thud against the windows. It was also ten in the morning, and she was wrapped in a blanket, doing something totally at odds with her character.
"I'm hiding" Makoto muttered, sinking lower in the mattress, trying to hide from the fact. At the sound of her voice, she groaned—hiding sounded so low, something she would normally consider totally beneath her. But nothing was normal right now, and this was her escape.
"Besides," she muttered, in an attempt to console herself, "it's not like you're hiding from one person in particular. You're just sort of avoiding the entire world."
She groaned again and let herself fall face first into her comforter. "I'm so pathetic."
Resolving to stop talking to herself, as it only made her feel worse anyway, she returned to her thoughts, trying to make heads or tails of the situation before her. Yesterday, she'd had a perfectly delightful dinner with a man she'd met hours before; it had given her time to decide that maybe, just maybe, she was falling for him, just a bit. He was, after all, charming and handsome, and beneath his serious demeanor his sense of humor was on par with hers. And he had smiled at her in the candlelight and paid attention to her and laughed when she said something funny and had said intelligent, relevant things when she'd been solemn. The catalyst to her growing attraction had come when he had walked her back to her room after dinner, when she had looked up into his face and seen his eyes clearly as he smiled down at her, and then she had suddenly become aware that he was attracted to her.
She didn't know how it had happened—in middle and high school all she could remember was being to tall for any guy in his right mind to like, and then in college falling prey to the match-making schemes of her friends who assumed she wanted romance instead of a casual friendship. She couldn't count the number of times Mina had bustled over to her, smiling that secretive smile and said to her in conspiratorial tones, "thus and such likes you", and Mako had felt flattered and pleased and had even tried flirting with the man in question on several occasions, only to leave with a sense that Mina had been making the whole thing up and that he was really thoroughly engrossed in someone else. Between these little sparks of hope, though, she'd taken a back seat to Mina, Rei and Wren's busy dating life, playing the role of a mother when they needed comfort and snapping them out of a daze when they needed that. Then college had been over in a blur and she hadn't thought much about guys anymore—work had been consuming. So her total knowledge of men through dating was nil.
She remembered, out of the blue, her mother smiling down at her as she bemoaned another unrequited crush in high school. "Don't worry, Makoto, darling. You will be a popular object of affection some day, and when that day comes, you'll know. A woman always knows when a man likes her." The woman speaking had smiled and tapped her nose secretively, and teenage Mako had giggled. "It's like a sixth sense."
Makoto had never experienced that sixth sense in action before, and wondered if last night had been just that. At least, she had wondered in a hopeful, happy daze as she tossed and turned all night, until the dim light of dawn had snapped her back into reality.
Reality had consisted of several dispirited, unhappy thoughts that he wouldn't like her and couldn't like her and it was unreasonable to expect it. Reality had lasted all of fifteen minutes before she had recognized self-pity in herself, and snapped out of it. Now she was in a realm of grey uncertainty that had made her want to hide.
Instead of resisting that feeling, as she usually would have, she succumbed to it, and here she was, no more certain of anything than she had been two hours ago.
If I was at home, Mako thought, I would go do something physical. Anything would do. But here, in this strange new house, she was too unknowledgeable about the patterns her husband and his butler lived by. The last thing she wanted to do was offend him by doing something and causing a rift that could have been avoided.
So she stayed put, hiding from the world and the rain and the tall-dark-and- handsome that kept intruding on her thoughts.
Half an hour later, her brood was interrupted by another sort of intrusion. It was the butler, rapping softly at the frame of her open door. "Would you come down to breakfast, ma'am?"
Her stomach twisted at the thought of breakfast, but she managed to smile. "No, thanks, I'm not very hungry right now."
He raised his eyebrows almost imperceptibly. "Breakfast is accustomed here."
"I know. I'm just, not feeling up to it this morning. After traveling and everything."
He inclined his head into something that was between a nod and a bow. "I shall make your excuses to the master." He left as softly as he had come, leaving a woman behind whose confusion had suddenly been tempered by the unhappy awareness that this visit would herald another that she wasn't quite ready to face.
Makoto sighed and got out of bed, reaching for her clothes. The solitude she had found in morning was slipping away, and half of her felt her sanity was going with it. Impatiently, she tugged a pair of jeans up around her thighs, brushing that side of herself to the back of her mind. She'd done enough sulking. She'd best just face this thing head on, the way she was used to.
"You hear that, buddy?" she asked the mirror, forgetting her previous vow to stop talking to herself, "Bring it on."
Ami
Water poured cool and comforting over her hands as she moved them in circles across the face of a plate. She enjoyed the feel of it, the slight slickness of her fingers, the sliding sensation across her skin. She gave the plate one last sweep and examined it for a moment before putting it in the dish washer as her eyes flicked up to the window. It was raining outside, a raging, steady storm that beat against the roof and sides of the building—the sound of it echoed through the room and made her want to dance. Thick ropes of rain draped over her view of the city and she rejoiced in the power of the weather, a relief from the soft drizzle they'd been experiencing for weeks. The view made her come to a realization—the gradual insight only something so calming can bring. She was...content. Ami smiled a shocked little smile. She couldn't remember the last time she'd been able to say that—she'd always been so caught up in the whirlwind that was political life she hadn't know what state of mind she was in, only that she was happy. Now, though, her hunger satisfied, the delight of the morning about her, she knew the happiness was gone, but so was the rush. A lingering smile entered her eyes. Suddenly she had time to enjoy everything at a pace all her own. She chose—and reveled in the choice—to continue to watch the water, to relish it, entranced.
So completely lost was she in the weather she did not hear the man as he crept up behind her, did not see him pull himself into a sitting position on the counter beside her, did not notice him until he called softly in her ear, "Ami."
Startled, Ami jumped and spun to face him, her face pale and breathing rapid. When she saw who it was, however, she sighed and tried to calm down. "Oh. It's you."
He was silent, watching her catch her breath. She looked up at him, his gaze immediately moved away to the window that had occupied her, leaving his profile for her study. His mouth was set in a soft frown, his eye brows furrowed slightly; his eyes stared unseeing at the sky. Sighing inwardly in frustration, Ami wished for the tenth time that morning that she knew him better, well enough to tell what this expression meant. It was a knowledge only time would lend, though, and she knew not to confuse herself by guessing at his thoughts. She focused on the cup she was cleaning, and waited for him to speak.
He took longer than she had expected. She'd finished with the cup, and a bowl, and a coffee mug, and it was still silent, despite the fact that Ami had devoted considerable time to each dish being very thorough. Finally, though, as she was reaching for the last item in the sink, he turned to her again. She looked up just at the movement. "We have to talk."
"I know." And she did know. She'd been dreading this conversation since they sat down for breakfast, anticipating how awkward and odd it would feel explaining every aspect of herself that she could to a total stranger.
"Well. That puts us in a difficult situation." He looked back at the window. "I have no idea how to start, and unless you do..." she shook her head, though he couldn't see her. Apparently he had assumed her negative, because he continued, "then here we, we know have to do this, with no way to get going."
She sighed, and shut the dishwasher with a soft click. It hummed to life beneath her fingers, and she concentrated on the vibration, trying to ignore the weight of the responsibility to speak on her shoulders. She squeezed her eyes shut and pressed her hands so hard against the machine they turned pale.
And she said nothing.
The silence stretched until she felt it had driven her mad, until she wanted to scream at him 'just start talking! I can't do it, you have to!', but her voice had left her and all she could do was stare down at the washing machine and feel an anxious dread.
Movement in the corner of her eye attracted her attention to him, she turned to face him just as he leaped off the counter and sprinted through the door. Shocked, all she could do was stare at the place he had vacated, with no idea what happened or what to do. She was spared from having to sort that out, however, as he appeared again in the doorway, holding a yellow bottle of alcohol and two champagne flutes.
The obvious conclusion snapped into her mind, and with it came her voice.
"No," she said, backing away from him as if he would give her the plague, "no, absolutely not."
"What?" He sounded genuinely curious. She refused to validate a question so stupid with an answer, and he apparently came to the right conclusion all on his own, because he sounded exasperated when he spoke next. "Good lord. You can't be serious."
She let her silence tell him that she was perfectly serious indeed.
"Come on. You know the only way we'll relax enough to actually start talking to each other is if we get good and...relaxed."
"Relaxed? Is that what you're calling it?" She was incredulous, she couldn't believe he was asking her to do this.
"Ami..." she couldn't believe he was practically whining, "come on. The last thing I want to do is spend the rest of my life awkwardly fumbling for a way to get us talking. The alcohol will do it for us, and then neither you nor I will have to feel as if we said something stupid to start talking." She couldn't believe he was making sense.
And she couldn't believe, a second later, that she was agreeing.
Minako
The breakfast table was quiet.
Very quiet.
She looked up at her husband, who was chewing and reading the paper with a studiously neutral expression on his face. He hadn't looked at her once in the course of the meal, nor had he made an attempt at conversation. The only words he'd spoken since she'd dragged herself into the kitchen that morning had been "food there, bowls there, spoons there"—accompanied with appropriate points to ensure her comprehension. Then he'd poured milk onto his bowl of raw oatmeal (she'd gagged inwardly) and proceeded to eat.
In silence.
Grinding her teeth in annoyance, Minako looked back down at her bowl of cereal and wished she'd had the presence of mind to bring something to do. Of course, she'd assumed that the morning would be spent in a fight about the previous night. She'd expected anger and shouting followed by a brooding mope, anything but this torturous, polite meal. Anything but the smothering quiet.
Deciding it would probably be less frustrating for her if she just ignored the problem, like he seemed to have no problem doing, Mina resolved to clear her mind and stop thinking altogether.
...a few minutes later when she found herself chasing a grain of her (mercifully cooked) oatmeal around with her spoon like it was the most entertaining thing in the world, she decided things had gone too far. Breaking the silence was on her shoulders.
This initiated a whole new line of thought. What, exactly, was one supposed to say to a man who chose to ignore major problems such as being caught in an affair? The fact that he was gutless enough to hide from this kind of thing meant that a calm, reasonable discussion would probably go completely over his head—in her years of experience, she'd found cowards to generally be demanding, unthinking people that had a tendency to rub her the wrong way.
As she pondered her tactic, she glanced at him again. He was still just sitting there, empty bowl now pushed aside, intent on the paper. She glanced down at her watch. 10 AM. Why was he still here?
All thoughts of strategy aside, she blurted out, "Don't you have a job?"
He looked up at her and appeared genuinely surprised. "What?"
She rolled her eyes—cowardly and stupid. "A job. You know, nine to five at the office. Paycheck on Friday. The occupation of most of America."
He looked at her as if she the one was being stupid and went back to the paper.
Just like that. No response.
Well, Mina thought, looking down at her half eaten bowl of oatmeal, if that's the way it's gonna be, then that's the way it's gonna be.
And that was that.
End
a.n. sorry about the long break, I was on vacation for two weeks. Forgot to mention that in my last authors note. Enjoy the chapter. Read, review. I'm going to stop talking and post this baby now.
Ciao
DF
Dawn
The room was as dark and drab as usual when he entered it for the meeting he was accustomed to having with Luna before their official conference with Serenity. He glanced at it and smirked at the woman who stood barely visible in the poor light. "Operating at status quo, I see."
"Hello, Artemis." Her voice was careful and guarded. He frowned.
"Why Luna, whatever happened to your usual civility?"
She frowned. "I'm being perfectly civil."
Deciding that this line of talk would get him no where, he abandoned it. "Well, whether you are or not, that isn't what I came here to talk to you about?"
"You mean there is a reason for this get together other than business?" Her sarcastic surprise made him sigh tiredly.
"It's business that I want to discuss with you, Luna love, if you would stop being so obtuse." She said nothing, and he could feel her glower from where he stood. Deciding that her silence meant he could continue, he pressed on. "I've thought of something to do that would help our little project along."
She raised an eyebrow. He moved to sit on the couch, and she came to stand near him. "You have my undivided attention."
"The spying we've been doing on them has been extensive and complete, and I'm sure you've come to the same conclusion I have from the information we've gathered: things aren't moving fast enough." She opened her mouth to speak, he held up a hand to stop her. "Yes, I know you'll write this off as another proof that I seek instant gratification, but with this project, things need to move quickly. They need to make the right connections between each other and work before their past their prime, or forgotten by the public eye. Right now both figureheads hold considerable sway over the people. All that could diminish."
"What's your plan?"
He smiled, it was characteristic of Luna not to validate his theories and move on to the problem at hand. Characteristic, but annoying. "They need a little push in the right direction."
She sighed in frustration. "Artemis, you know as well as I do that people cannot be forced to collaborate."
"I do. But that wasn't the kind of push I was talking about. At this moment, they've lost track of their goals, of their careers. They think all is lost, that they won't be allowed to do anything ever again because the Augustus Company holds all the strings. They don't realize the only boundaries are in their minds, that the Company won't hold them back. We need to empower them so that they can move forward once more."
There was no witty comeback. He looked up at his partner and was pleasantly surprised to see her considering, seriously considering this theory. When she spoke, the mocking tone had left her voice. "You still haven't told me what you plan to do."
"We need to let them know, anonymously, of course, how to proceed."
"Well, that's not going to be easy."
"It is your area of expertise, Luna. If you would help me, I would gladly leave the planning in your capable hands."
She smiled and sat next to him. "Flattery will get you no where."
"So you'll do it?" He hoped his tone held the right amount of plead, that he hadn't over done it.
She smirked up at him. "What, not going to shower me with more of your trademark charm?"
He quirked an eyebrow. "I think the charm-showering can wait until a time when our boss is not five minutes from walking in on us. When we reach such a time," he reached down and ran two fingers down her arm, "believe me, you'll be more than showered enough."
"Is that a bribe?"
He smiled, his expression intimate. "Do you want it to be?"
Makoto
It was raining, in thick, heavy drops that fell with a soft thud-thud against the windows. It was also ten in the morning, and she was wrapped in a blanket, doing something totally at odds with her character.
"I'm hiding" Makoto muttered, sinking lower in the mattress, trying to hide from the fact. At the sound of her voice, she groaned—hiding sounded so low, something she would normally consider totally beneath her. But nothing was normal right now, and this was her escape.
"Besides," she muttered, in an attempt to console herself, "it's not like you're hiding from one person in particular. You're just sort of avoiding the entire world."
She groaned again and let herself fall face first into her comforter. "I'm so pathetic."
Resolving to stop talking to herself, as it only made her feel worse anyway, she returned to her thoughts, trying to make heads or tails of the situation before her. Yesterday, she'd had a perfectly delightful dinner with a man she'd met hours before; it had given her time to decide that maybe, just maybe, she was falling for him, just a bit. He was, after all, charming and handsome, and beneath his serious demeanor his sense of humor was on par with hers. And he had smiled at her in the candlelight and paid attention to her and laughed when she said something funny and had said intelligent, relevant things when she'd been solemn. The catalyst to her growing attraction had come when he had walked her back to her room after dinner, when she had looked up into his face and seen his eyes clearly as he smiled down at her, and then she had suddenly become aware that he was attracted to her.
She didn't know how it had happened—in middle and high school all she could remember was being to tall for any guy in his right mind to like, and then in college falling prey to the match-making schemes of her friends who assumed she wanted romance instead of a casual friendship. She couldn't count the number of times Mina had bustled over to her, smiling that secretive smile and said to her in conspiratorial tones, "thus and such likes you", and Mako had felt flattered and pleased and had even tried flirting with the man in question on several occasions, only to leave with a sense that Mina had been making the whole thing up and that he was really thoroughly engrossed in someone else. Between these little sparks of hope, though, she'd taken a back seat to Mina, Rei and Wren's busy dating life, playing the role of a mother when they needed comfort and snapping them out of a daze when they needed that. Then college had been over in a blur and she hadn't thought much about guys anymore—work had been consuming. So her total knowledge of men through dating was nil.
She remembered, out of the blue, her mother smiling down at her as she bemoaned another unrequited crush in high school. "Don't worry, Makoto, darling. You will be a popular object of affection some day, and when that day comes, you'll know. A woman always knows when a man likes her." The woman speaking had smiled and tapped her nose secretively, and teenage Mako had giggled. "It's like a sixth sense."
Makoto had never experienced that sixth sense in action before, and wondered if last night had been just that. At least, she had wondered in a hopeful, happy daze as she tossed and turned all night, until the dim light of dawn had snapped her back into reality.
Reality had consisted of several dispirited, unhappy thoughts that he wouldn't like her and couldn't like her and it was unreasonable to expect it. Reality had lasted all of fifteen minutes before she had recognized self-pity in herself, and snapped out of it. Now she was in a realm of grey uncertainty that had made her want to hide.
Instead of resisting that feeling, as she usually would have, she succumbed to it, and here she was, no more certain of anything than she had been two hours ago.
If I was at home, Mako thought, I would go do something physical. Anything would do. But here, in this strange new house, she was too unknowledgeable about the patterns her husband and his butler lived by. The last thing she wanted to do was offend him by doing something and causing a rift that could have been avoided.
So she stayed put, hiding from the world and the rain and the tall-dark-and- handsome that kept intruding on her thoughts.
Half an hour later, her brood was interrupted by another sort of intrusion. It was the butler, rapping softly at the frame of her open door. "Would you come down to breakfast, ma'am?"
Her stomach twisted at the thought of breakfast, but she managed to smile. "No, thanks, I'm not very hungry right now."
He raised his eyebrows almost imperceptibly. "Breakfast is accustomed here."
"I know. I'm just, not feeling up to it this morning. After traveling and everything."
He inclined his head into something that was between a nod and a bow. "I shall make your excuses to the master." He left as softly as he had come, leaving a woman behind whose confusion had suddenly been tempered by the unhappy awareness that this visit would herald another that she wasn't quite ready to face.
Makoto sighed and got out of bed, reaching for her clothes. The solitude she had found in morning was slipping away, and half of her felt her sanity was going with it. Impatiently, she tugged a pair of jeans up around her thighs, brushing that side of herself to the back of her mind. She'd done enough sulking. She'd best just face this thing head on, the way she was used to.
"You hear that, buddy?" she asked the mirror, forgetting her previous vow to stop talking to herself, "Bring it on."
Ami
Water poured cool and comforting over her hands as she moved them in circles across the face of a plate. She enjoyed the feel of it, the slight slickness of her fingers, the sliding sensation across her skin. She gave the plate one last sweep and examined it for a moment before putting it in the dish washer as her eyes flicked up to the window. It was raining outside, a raging, steady storm that beat against the roof and sides of the building—the sound of it echoed through the room and made her want to dance. Thick ropes of rain draped over her view of the city and she rejoiced in the power of the weather, a relief from the soft drizzle they'd been experiencing for weeks. The view made her come to a realization—the gradual insight only something so calming can bring. She was...content. Ami smiled a shocked little smile. She couldn't remember the last time she'd been able to say that—she'd always been so caught up in the whirlwind that was political life she hadn't know what state of mind she was in, only that she was happy. Now, though, her hunger satisfied, the delight of the morning about her, she knew the happiness was gone, but so was the rush. A lingering smile entered her eyes. Suddenly she had time to enjoy everything at a pace all her own. She chose—and reveled in the choice—to continue to watch the water, to relish it, entranced.
So completely lost was she in the weather she did not hear the man as he crept up behind her, did not see him pull himself into a sitting position on the counter beside her, did not notice him until he called softly in her ear, "Ami."
Startled, Ami jumped and spun to face him, her face pale and breathing rapid. When she saw who it was, however, she sighed and tried to calm down. "Oh. It's you."
He was silent, watching her catch her breath. She looked up at him, his gaze immediately moved away to the window that had occupied her, leaving his profile for her study. His mouth was set in a soft frown, his eye brows furrowed slightly; his eyes stared unseeing at the sky. Sighing inwardly in frustration, Ami wished for the tenth time that morning that she knew him better, well enough to tell what this expression meant. It was a knowledge only time would lend, though, and she knew not to confuse herself by guessing at his thoughts. She focused on the cup she was cleaning, and waited for him to speak.
He took longer than she had expected. She'd finished with the cup, and a bowl, and a coffee mug, and it was still silent, despite the fact that Ami had devoted considerable time to each dish being very thorough. Finally, though, as she was reaching for the last item in the sink, he turned to her again. She looked up just at the movement. "We have to talk."
"I know." And she did know. She'd been dreading this conversation since they sat down for breakfast, anticipating how awkward and odd it would feel explaining every aspect of herself that she could to a total stranger.
"Well. That puts us in a difficult situation." He looked back at the window. "I have no idea how to start, and unless you do..." she shook her head, though he couldn't see her. Apparently he had assumed her negative, because he continued, "then here we, we know have to do this, with no way to get going."
She sighed, and shut the dishwasher with a soft click. It hummed to life beneath her fingers, and she concentrated on the vibration, trying to ignore the weight of the responsibility to speak on her shoulders. She squeezed her eyes shut and pressed her hands so hard against the machine they turned pale.
And she said nothing.
The silence stretched until she felt it had driven her mad, until she wanted to scream at him 'just start talking! I can't do it, you have to!', but her voice had left her and all she could do was stare down at the washing machine and feel an anxious dread.
Movement in the corner of her eye attracted her attention to him, she turned to face him just as he leaped off the counter and sprinted through the door. Shocked, all she could do was stare at the place he had vacated, with no idea what happened or what to do. She was spared from having to sort that out, however, as he appeared again in the doorway, holding a yellow bottle of alcohol and two champagne flutes.
The obvious conclusion snapped into her mind, and with it came her voice.
"No," she said, backing away from him as if he would give her the plague, "no, absolutely not."
"What?" He sounded genuinely curious. She refused to validate a question so stupid with an answer, and he apparently came to the right conclusion all on his own, because he sounded exasperated when he spoke next. "Good lord. You can't be serious."
She let her silence tell him that she was perfectly serious indeed.
"Come on. You know the only way we'll relax enough to actually start talking to each other is if we get good and...relaxed."
"Relaxed? Is that what you're calling it?" She was incredulous, she couldn't believe he was asking her to do this.
"Ami..." she couldn't believe he was practically whining, "come on. The last thing I want to do is spend the rest of my life awkwardly fumbling for a way to get us talking. The alcohol will do it for us, and then neither you nor I will have to feel as if we said something stupid to start talking." She couldn't believe he was making sense.
And she couldn't believe, a second later, that she was agreeing.
Minako
The breakfast table was quiet.
Very quiet.
She looked up at her husband, who was chewing and reading the paper with a studiously neutral expression on his face. He hadn't looked at her once in the course of the meal, nor had he made an attempt at conversation. The only words he'd spoken since she'd dragged herself into the kitchen that morning had been "food there, bowls there, spoons there"—accompanied with appropriate points to ensure her comprehension. Then he'd poured milk onto his bowl of raw oatmeal (she'd gagged inwardly) and proceeded to eat.
In silence.
Grinding her teeth in annoyance, Minako looked back down at her bowl of cereal and wished she'd had the presence of mind to bring something to do. Of course, she'd assumed that the morning would be spent in a fight about the previous night. She'd expected anger and shouting followed by a brooding mope, anything but this torturous, polite meal. Anything but the smothering quiet.
Deciding it would probably be less frustrating for her if she just ignored the problem, like he seemed to have no problem doing, Mina resolved to clear her mind and stop thinking altogether.
...a few minutes later when she found herself chasing a grain of her (mercifully cooked) oatmeal around with her spoon like it was the most entertaining thing in the world, she decided things had gone too far. Breaking the silence was on her shoulders.
This initiated a whole new line of thought. What, exactly, was one supposed to say to a man who chose to ignore major problems such as being caught in an affair? The fact that he was gutless enough to hide from this kind of thing meant that a calm, reasonable discussion would probably go completely over his head—in her years of experience, she'd found cowards to generally be demanding, unthinking people that had a tendency to rub her the wrong way.
As she pondered her tactic, she glanced at him again. He was still just sitting there, empty bowl now pushed aside, intent on the paper. She glanced down at her watch. 10 AM. Why was he still here?
All thoughts of strategy aside, she blurted out, "Don't you have a job?"
He looked up at her and appeared genuinely surprised. "What?"
She rolled her eyes—cowardly and stupid. "A job. You know, nine to five at the office. Paycheck on Friday. The occupation of most of America."
He looked at her as if she the one was being stupid and went back to the paper.
Just like that. No response.
Well, Mina thought, looking down at her half eaten bowl of oatmeal, if that's the way it's gonna be, then that's the way it's gonna be.
And that was that.
End
a.n. sorry about the long break, I was on vacation for two weeks. Forgot to mention that in my last authors note. Enjoy the chapter. Read, review. I'm going to stop talking and post this baby now.
Ciao
DF