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Deeper – Chapter Four – Cassie's Masterpiece
Shoes? Check. Shirt ironed? Check. Cologne? Check. Cell phone . . .
"Sneaky way to ask her out, dude," Connor said while staring into the eyes of the television. He clicked the remote again.
Gar eased into his jacket. "It's a group deal, not a date."
"Of course it is. Cassie thinks so, anyway." He turned the blaring television off. "Good thing we're going out. Nothing on the tube tonight, anyway."
"What did she say to Raven?" Gar stared at his watch. "And when are they coming down? The movie starts in thirty minutes!"
"You know girls. She's probably curling her hair or painting her nails or whatever as we speak."
Connor leaned over the couch and sniffed the air. "Wuff. Do you think you've got on enough aftershave?"
A voice drifted down the stairwell into the great room.
"C'mon, he's not going to laugh this time, I promise. You look great."
"Here we go," Conner grinned at him and pointed at the pink blossom on the end table. "Look, you got her a freakin' flower, dude. It's a date."
"It's just a carnation . . ."
Cassie's voice was closer. "No, you don't need that shawl. I told you, you look fine . . . yes, but Raven, they are supposed to look at you. That's the whole point!"
"You're going to love this." Conner waggled his eyebrows.
"Here we are." Cassie appeared around the corner with a great flourish of her arms. Alone. She sighed, then shouted to the hallway. "Rachel Roth, don't make me come back in there and get you."
"Look," Gar whispered, "I just did it this way to take the pressure off her, you know? I just want her to have some good memories. She has so few. There's no need for you guys to . . ."
" . . . to . . . "
His speech trailed off as she peered around the corner of the stairs. Her short, wild hair was tamed into loose curls that hugged her neck. Wide eyes were outlined in gray. Her lips were pursed shut. Cassie grasped her wrist and pulled the rest of her forward into full view.
That dress. That red dress. The one that had really gotten his attention before. The one that wore her. The one that made him see her as something other than just a teammate. The one that took her out of the realm of the mystical and placed her in the real world. The one that made him not quite sure how to behave.
The one that had gotten him thrown out of her room when he couldn't keep his big damn mouth shut.
He stood there, rooted to the spot and speechless. His eyes took her in. All of her: ivory shoulders, toned but slender arms, tapered (and thanks to Cassie, manicured) fingers, well-defined calves that were outlined even more by red high heels. A fringe of hair concealed the jewel on her forehead. She grasped a red shawl in her right hand. Her violet eyes studied the floor. The smallest finger on her right hand was dancing the tango against her knee.
Cassie poked her in the ribs and admonished her in a loud whisper. "C'mon, girlfriend, let's strike a pose for the guys. Like I showed you."
Cassie pulled her friend down the rest of the stairs and parked her in front of the living area's picture window. Silhouettes of nearby mountains painted a lavender and indigo backdrop.
"Connor, take our picture. She might only do this once."
She wouldn't look at him. She wouldn't speak. He wasn't sure why. She kept trying to wrap the shawl around her shoulders. And Cassie kept pulling it down. She finally took it away and threw it onto Gar as Connor aimed his cell phone camera at the pair.
"Leave that thing here. Ok, sweetie, three . . . two . . . one . . . cheeeese."
She finally came to life, maybe because it was Cassie. Cassie could make anybody smile, even sad little birds like this one. Gar pulled the shawl off his head and watched. They stood back to back, each with a light fist on the leading hip. She finally managed a picture-perfect smile that seemed more painted on than felt.
It's really strange. She doesn't mind my touching her as much as she does my looking at her. I like, no, love, the way she looks. But that dress just reminds her of that day . . . and here I go again . . .
He felt a howl escape from his lungs. Before he knew it, he was a wolf. "Call 911 boys, the tower is on fire!" He tapped his hind leg against the floor and panted.
She stared back him with wide lavender eyes. She blinked a few times. Suddenly, her fake smile melted into a real one . . . is she going to la--
"Uh, dude," Connor whispered to him, turning the camera lens to the floor. "Are you wearing your uniform under your outfit?"
Shirt and pants hung loosely about his green fur. "Ummmmmm, nope."
"Then I suggest you resume human form in the next room. Unless you want to see her howl, too."
"I'm sorry the movie was sold out, guys."
Cassie winked at him. "That's okay, Gar. We can try a matinee tomorrow. Raven, they have a dessert to die for here. Conner, come with me. Let's get some chocolate cake. Raven has got to have some of this cake."
She pulled him away from the table. And Raven thought she knew why. As socially inept as I am, she thought, I think I am starting to understand these subtleties.
Cassie's conversation flowed across the white tile floor. "Of course she'll like chocolate cake. She's a she, after all."
She watched him sink lower into his chair. She stroked the petals of the carnation with her fingers and bit her lower lip.
Oh, Garfield. He looked down at the table and focused on his hands. She hated to see him this way. She hated the flavor of disappointment. He had tried so hard to make this a happy event for her. But after a complete odyssey, they were here at a pizza parlor, trying to pull the evening back together.
At least the pain was not so intense tonight. The background noise of absorbed pain was moving more and more into the foreground lately. The feeling had been far too familiar in her old body. It moved around her as if it had a mind of its own. Sometimes it nested in her joints; other days it dug a home into the small of her back. And some days it faded altogether. But right now it was settling back into the backstage of her spirit.
It would be easier to take if that smell were not so overpowering. She had excused herself several times, using the words that Cassie had taught her about "powdering her nose", to get away from the nausea. Azar, why does he try to cover his own smell with that . . . that . . . chemical? With this invading sensation mixed in with the smells of frying sausage and baking pepperoni, it was all she could do to keep her eyes from watering.
This new odor made her nose twitch. It raked across her nerves. And his self-consciousness – while it did feed that background hunger for ambient emotion, it felt stifling. It was choking her.
"I'm sorry about those guys taking pictures of us, Rave. I know you don't like cameras. And they were so rude. Must've been a slow night for the paparazzi if they were chasing me and my . . .oh . . . sorry."
She rested a hand on his. She couldn't let him stay like this.
"Garfield, I am fine. They did startle me, yes, but I am unharmed. And at the very least our friends were far away enough that they were not photographed as well." Liar. You were mortified. She blinked once, hard. I must stop talking to myself. I am too used to it.
"I just hope those pictures don't blow your high school cover as Rachel. Who knows where they'll get published? I should have thought of this before . . . "
She shrugged. It was not a normal gesture for her, but it felt right for the moment. "We are anything but ordinary. Why should tonight be any different? And I doubt any of my school compatriots would believe my current appearance, anyway."
He raised his eyes to her. She could feel his tension easing down just a little bit.
"It just seems like Murphy is riding with us tonight. That's all."
"Murphy? But there are only four of us-- "
"Oh, no, Rave, I meant--"
She placed a finger on his lips. "I know what you meant. I am very aware of Mr. Murphy. That was just my poor attempt to make you smile."
He did manage a grin, but even then she did not move her hand. Their faces were so close. The clink and clatter of fork against dish in the dining room faded away. Even the overwhelming cologne was losing its edge. His exhalation washed over her cheek as he leaned towards her.
"I am really, really sorry," he began. He moved a little closer with every word as she drew her hand back. "I know we never talk about it, but I am sorry I laughed at you before. Last month. About your name. And that dress. Rachel's a great name. . . and you look so . . .so . . . "
"You're forgiven," she replied with a long, slow blink of her eyes. She twirled the carnation between her fingers. "No one has ever gotten me flowers before."
Her eyes slid closed as she felt the tip of his nose brush her cheek. . .
A loud thump shook her out of the quiet. She then remembered where she was and felt her face grow hot. Conner plopped down across from her with his dessert; the plate still rattled against the table. She felt herself sigh at the same time as Beast Boy as they leaned their separate ways.
"Cake, anyone?" Connor offered her a fork.
He was staring at the table again. Oh, dear.
Four communicators beeped in unison.
Trouble. Thank Azar.