Awakening: Third Stage

Chapter Thirteen

"The Morning After"

Sunday

Some would say that Lor Macquarrie stepped outside late that evening. Others would say it was early the next morning. To Lor, it was a moot point—she never had really gone to bed anyway. After returning home from a night of losing her boyfriend, coming perilously close to kissing one of her best friends in a meaningful way, and enduring a jumbo sized dogpile from her brothers, sleep just wasn't something her mind could manage.

She had clawed her way up to her room, stripped out of the dress and into a night outfit, and curled up in her bed seeking solace, but most of the night she had just tossed and turned, her eyes open wide as saucers, trying to figure out what exactly she was supposed to do next. Somewhere around 4 AM, she had climbed out of bed and crept down to the kitchen, where she made herself a sandwich that that Dagwood fellow from the funny pages would've been proud of. After polishing it off along with half a bag of potato chips, she had raided the freezer and spooned mouthfuls of Death By Chocolate up until she felt she was going to be sick. She then spent an hour watching TV and massaging her stomach until it resumed normal operation; idly contemplating if this sensation felt anything like pregnancy. The fact that the very thought of being pregnant didn't frighten her was nearly twice as terrifying. Would it really be so awful? She'd had some bad experiences with little ones in the past, but it couldn't always be bad, or why would anyone want to have children in this day and age, what with contraceptives a household name?

Sitting with the palms of her hands lightly held to her bared stomach, Lor closed her eyes and conjured up the image of an infant version of Thompson. It brought a small smile to her face, imagining the three of them together—man, woman, and child. Maybe she wouldn't make such a bad mother after all. Lor refused to linger on the image for too long. Thompson was gone now, and it was time to put away the childish fantasies and be realistic. She changed her tactic this time, and soon an image of a toddler Tino found its way into her mind's eye. Nothing terribly unexpected, he was the last guy to show her kindness. The picture of a family with Tino wasn't bad at all. In fact, Lor rather found herself enjoying it, until their imagined family outing to the circus resulted in both Tino and their child curling into the fetal position and whimpering when the clown troupe appeared. As she let the image dissipate, she was grateful for the slight chuckle it produced, her first good laugh in what seemed like far too long.

With the first rays of sunlight beginning to appear at the horizon, Lor decided to do something productive. She slipped back upstairs, grabbing her dress and a key ring off the dresser in her parents' room, wondering how much trouble she would be in when they woke up. "You only live once." She muttered to herself, jumping down the steps and out to the garage.

Carver sat down to an early Saturday breakfast with his parents, explaining what had happened with his friends at the dance last night. His parents seemed particularly interested in what happened with both Lor and Tino. Penny laughed several times until a stern look from her father kept her quiet. Todd was most interested in getting his hands on the sugar bowl; apparently reaching kindergarten age still hadn't cured him of his addiction.

"Well son, what do you think is going on between your friends?" Carver's father asked him after the whole tale had been explained.

"I just don't get it." Carver sighed. "I mean, we all knew Lor and Thompson's days were numbered, but this whole Tino and Tish thing. . .man, it feels like they've always been together! Not a month ago I remember we all went to see a Star Pilots movie. I turned grab a box of Jujyfruits that fell on the floor, and I catch Tish making goo-goo eyes at Tino. They'd been going out for three years, and she had this look on her face like he'd been out of town for the whole summer or something! The idea of them breaking up just doesn't compute."

"You can't think of anything that would split them up?" His mother pressed.

"Not really. I know Tino wasn't looking for anyone else. And trying to picture Tish cheating on him. . .I just don't think she's the type. I guess it's possible, but I'd find it pretty hard to believe. Man, none of this makes sense."

"Let me see if I got this straight." Penny interjected. "Two of your best friends just broke up for no apparent reason, and the other one's all upset because her boyfriend moved away?"

"Yeah. So what's your point?"

"Nothin'. I was just hopin' somethin' juicy was in there I could use against you later."

Carver ignored her. "Hey dad, you know the world. Tell me, is this just some kinda white people thing?" The table grew silent for a moment, then everyone started laughing at once. "Ok, ok, just checking. So what's your advice."

"Help them if you can, son." His father explained.

"But don't push it if they keep rejecting you." Mrs. Descartes added. They might have to deal with this in their own time on their own terms."

"Thanks. I'm gonna go shower and then give Tino a call."

"Good luck sweetie" His mother called as Carver proceeded down the hallway to the bathroom.

"Thanks." Carver muttered under his breath. "I'm certainly gonna need it."

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Tish awoke from a fitful sleep to the sound of a hand beating against her door, her mother's unsubtle way of telling her that she had better be coming out. Grumbling to herself, she sat up and fumbled about her nightstand, looking for her glasses. Finding her sight on the fourth tap, she swung her arm back and placed them on her face. As her world came into focus, Tish forced herself out of bed, searching for something to put on.

"Tishy! Is time you are coming out!" Her mother called forcefully from the other side of the door.

"In a minute!" Tish responded huffily. "I have to find some clothes first!" She walked with heavy steps to emphasize that she had gotten up. She threw her closet open, rifling past a few hangers until finding the deep purple bathrobe she was searching for. Tish stepped into it and tied the sash around her waist, then slipped her feet into a matching pair of slippers. Letting loose a most unladylike yawn, she opened her door and was greeted by the face of her frowning mother.

"So, you are coming out at last. Do you plan to be explaining your bee hive oar?"

"Bee hive? Oh, behavior."

"Yes, is what I'm saying!"

"Can't a girl even get breakfast before she tells her family what a monster she is?" Tish walked past her mother, earning a penetrating frown in her back. Tish knew she was being insolent, but she felt entirely too drained and numb to care if her mother got upset with her at the moment.

Tish thumped her way into the kitchen, stopping at the refrigerator to pour herself a glass of orange juice and pulling out a loaf of bread, intending to make herself some toast. Her father waved politely, wishing her a good morning. She was certain her parents had laid some kind of trap for her, but she was refusing to talk until she had a little comfort food in front of her. Dropping two slices into the toaster, she prepared a plate and some butter, then set to boiling some water for tea. She instinctively reached for the canister containing Prince of Wales, then her hand recoiled as the thought brought memories she couldn't bring herself to deal with at the moment. She thumbed past, finally settling on Lady Grey.

Her father suddenly asked if she would enjoy a plate of eggs, and to Tish's somewhat surprise, her stomach rumbled eagerly at the idea. She brought her glass of juice over to the kitchen table and smiled slightly as she saw a plate with eggs and homefries was waiting for her. Somehow, her father had known. Perhaps that was his job after all.

Tish forked some of her eggs and brought it to her mouth. It tasted even better than it smelled. She had been longing for something to eat most of the night, but she had been too defiant to get out of bed. "Thank you daddy." She smiled, feeling tears well up in her eyes. She was behaving like a spoiled brat this morning, when all her parents wanted to do was understand what was wrong with their little girl.

"Now you are feeling better, yes?" He asked.

Tish nodded at him. "A little. I guess you want to know why I was in such a foul mood last night."

"When you are ready to be talking, Tishy."

"I just. . .Poppa, how do you know if. . ."

"Yes?"

"Last night I. . .I broke up with Tino?"

"Broke up? I don't understand. Whenever I am seeing you, you are always looking so happy together! Is something matter? He didn't try to be taking advantage of--"

"Oh poppa, Tino couldn't take advantage of me if I threw myself at him. You know he's not like that."

Tish's father sighed. "Yes, yes, you are right. I know he is good friend, good man. Okay, so helping your poor father to understand. Someone else?"

"No, nothing like that." Tish took several more bites of her breakfast before she could continue. "Tino. . .he told me. . .Tino said he loves me, poppa."

"Really?"

Tish nodded, sniffing lightly.

"And what were you telling him in return?" Her father asked.

"Nothing good. Probably all the wrong things. But I did what I felt I had to! How was I supposed to accept that?! I'm all he's ever known, he can't go around deciding he loves me after never being with anyone else. It's not right!"

"Neverminding that." Her father spoke softly. "To be saying what Tino has been saying, great courage he must have. I have seen the way he looks at you when he feels no one else is watching, Pedratishkovna. You are most special to him."

"I know!" She pressed her hands to her head, shaking sadly. "And I care about him too! That's why I let him go. I never want him to feel he passed something up because of me! I couldn't bare the thought of him ever resenting me. I just want. . .I have to remember that I was his friend before anything else. I can't lose sight of that! And as his friend, I have to help him see what's best for him, even if it hurts us."

"Perhaps this is true, but are you ever stopping to consider what love really is? Is not something you can be holding in your hand, is a state of mind, way of being."

"You think I'm making a mistake, don't you poppa." Tish sounded defeated.

"I am thinking that you must be doing what is right in here." Her father smiled, very lightly poking her chest. "Not so much with what is here." He repeated the pointing gesture to her temple. "If you are not having special feelings in your heart, then perhaps this is good choice. But don't be throwing away your happiness because of way you think something has to be. Is like. . .what you are knowing; and what you are knowing. Yes?"

"Dichotomy." Tish filled in for her father. "The mind/heart dichotomy."

"Yes, yes! Now you getting it!"

"I'll. . .give it some thought. Right now, I think I just need to clear my head. Thank you."

Mr. Katsufrakis smiled at his daughter as she quietly finished her breakfast and returned to her room, hoping he had been able to do something to ease his little girl's mind.

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Lor brought the hose full blast over her parent's car, cleaning of the coating of soap before beginning the next application. It had been far too long since the car had had a good wash. She found herself moving to the music playing on the boombox she had brought out of the garage, hoping that Jan The Man would eventually play some Chum Bukkit. She dropped a long piece of red fabric into a bucked full of soapy water, then began applying it to the car. The combination of spraying water and loud music finally attracted the attention of her parents, and her father opened the bedroom window, not sounding very pleased.

"Lor, what the heck are you doin' out there at this hour?"

"Um, washing your car?" Lor responded.

"Washing my car? How'd you get it into the driveway?"

"With your keys." She said flatly, not looking up from her work.

"I see. So you're saying my fifteen year old daughter who doesn't even have her Learner's Permit yet borrowed my car keys without my permission."

"Pretty much. It's no big deal, dad. It's not like I went anywhere or anything." Lor had considered the idea when she first started the car up and heard the hypnotic hum of the engine, felt the sudden power she had available at the tips of her fingers and toes. But after entertaining the notion, she quickly rejected it. Forgetting all the trouble she would get in, she knew she would also get pulled over within minutes. She'd look exactly like what she would have been—an underage driver who had stolen her parents car and didn't have more than thirty dollars to her name. "Look, Dad, I know it was wrong, but I really needed something to take my mind of last night, okay."

"Sugar, you can't just go around. . .hey, isn't that the dress you were wearing last night?"

"It was." She chuckled to herself. "Turns out the sleeves make pretty decent sponges. I'm hoping the rest of it makes a good chamois."

Mr. MacQuarrie furrowed his brow in frustration as he drew his head back inside the window, muttering something about his wife's side of the family, he eased into his bathrobe and started down the stairs.

"Was it something I said?" Lor wondered as she resumed washing the car.

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An hour and a half later, the clan MacQuarrie was sitting down to breakfast, and the head of household was trying to get information on what was wrong with his only daughter. "Lor, normal people don't wash cars with their prom dresses at 6:30 on a Sunday morning."

"I'll bet some do." Lor shrugged as she filled her plate with pancakes and sausage. She raised her right arm into the air and closed her hand around a fruit of some type, setting it down in front of her. "Look, I just had a rotten time last night, and I'm dealing with it in my own way. I promise not to take your keys again, all right?" Lor promised.

"It's not about the keys, Lor, it's about you. This kind of behavior isn't like you at all. What could possibly have you so upset? Is this some kind of problem with that fella of yours?" Her father asked.

"I don't want to talk about it. I'll be fine, really." Lor grumbled.

"He didn't try to take advantage of you or anything, did he? Because I'll make him regret ever thinking-"

"Dad, relax. I can take care of myself in that department. And really, it's nothing like that at all. It's just. . .something I need to figure out on my own." Of course, this conversation seems rather usual to you and I, but I can assure you that with an uncountable amount of yelling siblings, fork fights for the last of the pancakes, and pieces of fruit flying through the air, it took considerably longer for these sentiments to be exchanged between Lor and her father. "Anyway, I think I'm gonna go out by myself tonight. I won't be home for dinner, but I should be back by eight or eight-thirty at the latest." Lor shrugged, indicating she didn't have any real plan and wasn't overly concerned about when she came home. It looked as though her father was trying to say something in response, but Lor stood up and headed for her bedroom before the conversation had a chance to carry any further. The only thing on her agenda for today was forgetting about Thompson.

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"Come on T, answer!" Carver whined as the line rang a fifth time. He began wondering whether or not Tino was ready to talk about what had happened with Tish last night, when finally there was a voice at the other end of the phone.

"Hi Carver." Came the voice of Tino's mother. "Tino's not here right now. Actually, he is here, I just don't think he's all here. He's been moping in his bedroom. I was considering pulling rank on him and forcing him out, but you might be just what the doctor ordered."

Carver blinked twice. "Wait a minute. How did you know it was me. Man, I never really believed it until now, but T was right. You are psychic!"

"Whatever helps you guys sleep at night. Anyway, why don't you come over and talk with Tino. Or at least drag him out of bed. I would do it, but I don't want him to be overcome with hostility when he finds out what he's having for dinner tonight. But I'm sure he could use a good friend right now."

"Sure, I can come. You hear anything from Tish yet?"

"She called last night, left a very. . .strange message. Tino hadn't gotten home yet. I deleted it because I was worried it would upset him."

"Ah, so I guess you know already." Carver sounded upset.

"I make it a habit to know whenever something's going on in my son's life." Miss Tonitini smiled slightly.

"You worried about him?" Carver asked.

"What are you, his father?!" She asked jokingly. "Yeah, I'm worried about him. I'm even worried about Tish. I know this must be hard on both of them.

"It's all a little. . .surreal to me." Carver admitted. "The idea of them not being together, it's too weird. I mean, years ago, when they first got together, I wasn't sure I could ever completely get used to it. Now just thinking about them being broken frightens me. They've been like a staple. No matter what goes on at school, there's always Tino and Tish. If they break up, what's left to believe in?"

"I think that whatever happens, things will work out for the best. If they were meant to be together, then they will be. But there's never any guarantees. And just because you love someone doesn't mean you can live with them. Tino's father and I are living proof of that."

"You ever think of writing one of those "Chicken Soup For The Soul" books?" Carver asked, not entirely in jest but with a smile on his face.

"Maybe after Tino's grown, we'll see."

"Alright. I'll be over in a bit then."

"Sounds good." Tino's mom answered, and they hung up together. "Great. Now I just need to find something to get him out of bed." She rolled her eyes.

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And so concludes another chapter. This one's only a day late. I've been finding it difficult to write lately, but I hope you'll still find this chapter up to snuff. It was imperative to me to focus on the characters being alone rather than together, to give a more accurate idea of what each is feeling and how they're coping with the events that transpired at Homecoming. More info on Tino next time out, of course.

As usual, please take a moment or three to let me know how I'm doing. I like to know with each update if I'm meeting your expectations or not. I do read my reviews carefully, as you can tell by the improved spacing in this chapter. The popularity of this story for the past year continues to astonish me, and its fanbase only seems to grow. I'd like you all to know that I appreciate that. Your reading of my fic is what keeps me writing, week in and week out. I'll admit that sometimes making my own self-imposed deadlines is difficult, but I try to keep my promises to you guys and girls out there. As other veteran fanfic authors can attest, this can be a very rewarding but very trying enterprise. You have to learn to roll with the punches. Sometimes when I sit down to start a new chapter, and a blank screen is staring me in front of the face, it can be frightening to think of. Knowing that I've got people out there expecting me to entertain them and I'm not really sure what's going to happen this week. Brings new meaning to the term "winging it." But it's how I write, and gathering from the reviews I get, it seems to be working. So thanks for sticking with me. You keep coming back for more, I'll keep staring down those blank screens and filling them!

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Send your questions, comments, compliments, complaints, love letters, death threats, marriage proposals, and ransom demands to:

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Lord Malachite

08/14/04

11:35PM

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