I'm not going into my usual rant. This chapter is already long enough as it is.
Author's note: Chapter dedicated to my good friend Faramuax for reasons only obvious to those who know her. Read on and you'll find out what I'm probably referring to, tho. We love you, Faramuax!
Chapter soundtrack: "To be loved" by Curtis Stigers; "The sweetest thing" by U2; "Get over me" by Marion Raven; "Bury me with it" by Modest Mouse; "Stay you" by Wood; "Rachel's flat" by Badly-Drawn Boy; "Screaming infidelities" by Dashboard Confessional; "Fall to pieces" by Avril Lavigne; and "St. Patrick's Day" by John Mayer.
The Beginning of the End
-by UltraViolet41 a.k.a La Gioconda
Chapter Sixteen – Serendipity
By the end of the week, Joan thought there couldn't possibly be anything else going wrong with her life.
"Large pepperoni and tomato pizza with extra cheese."
"No! No! No! That is not what we ordered!" Joan moaned, holding her head in exasperation.
The pizza delivery guy stood on the front porch of the Girardi residence, holding the pizza box in his hands, eyeing her oddly, as if he'd never seen a frustrated teenage girl wearing pyjamas, a makeshift blanket around her shoulders and an overdone bed-head look, at 6:30 p.m. on a Friday night.
Jordan appeared behind Joan and patted her on the back. "There, there. Now let's not drag the poor pizza guy into the soap opera, shall we? We'll take it anyway," she said, taking the box and handing the guy the money. "And we won't give him a tip for that mistake. Feel better now?"
The pizza guy looked at the money in his hand and frowned. "I know I don't," he mumbled sourly.
"Well, you should have thought of that before you brought us the wrong pizza!" Jordan shouted, and slammed the door in his face.
Joan dragged herself back into the living room after Jordan, the blanket trailing behind her. Her brother had invited most of the gang over to help him and Joan survive another Friday of house arrest, and a few of them obliged, considering there was nothing else better to do. Jordan and Remy brought a bunch of rentals, Carolina tagged along, while Grace showed up for lack of wanting to die of boredom alone in her own room. So now the whole gang, minus Erika and Troy, who might swing by later, Adam, of course, and Luke's friends, was holed up at the Girardi's living room eating junk and watching DVDs.
"I told you we should have called KFC," Grace complained, as Jordan dropped the box onto the coffee table. Luke opened the lid.
"But I thought we did order this," he asked puzzled.
"Well, I wasn't going to correct Joan. We did save ourselves the tip, after all," Jordan replied with a mischievous grin. She glanced at the pizza and frowned.
"What is that? Lean meat?" she asked, pointing at something round and reddish on the slice Grace now held.
"It's pepperoni," Grace answered matter-of-factly. "Honestly, J.C, I thought you were Italian."
"That's not pepperoni," Jordan exclaimed, giving Grace a weird look.
"It's not?"
"No," Jordan shook her head with a smirk. "Pepperoni is a vegetable. It's sweet pepper."
Grace stared at the slice she was about to take a bite from and looked uncertain. "Okay, I had no idea."
"Wait, so you're telling me that you call this 'pepperoni'? Wow, Dante will never believe this one. You Americans crack me up," she said, laughing uncontrollably.
"Well, just because we've called it the wrong name all this time doesn't mean it's something different. It's still meat, and it's still good," Luke pointed out. He proceeded to take the formerly-known-as pepperoni wedges off his pizza slice and put them on the side of his plate.
"Hey dork, if it's still the same, why are you taking them off?" Grace asked.
"I decided to postpone the ingestion of these things until I have conducted a full research to determine this ingredient's proper name and origin, and what it can do to us."
"Okay, well, that sounds about right… whatever you said," Jordan said.
"Joan, would you cheer up, for crying out loud? You're ruining 'boring Friday night stuck at home with nothing to do' ambient, with your skulking around," Grace exclaimed, nudging the lump under the blanket on the couch, which was really Joan lying in a fetal position, taking up most of the sitting space. The lump grumbled.
"Ominously boring Friday night, that is," Carolina said, emerging from the bathroom. She looked disappointedly at the pizza box. "I thought you said you ordered pepperoni pizza. What is that?"
"Ok, I can't eat this anymore," Grace said, pushing away her plate.
"I'll take it," Remy said, his eyes coming unglued from the TV screen as he channel-surfed like a bored nine-year-old, whisking the pizza slice from of Grace's plate.
"Dask, stop hogging the remote so we can all watch something already. We're growing mold here," Grace said, snatching the remote control out of Remy's hand. She sorted through the pile of rental DVDs. "Okay, what's it going to be, people? Depressing flick, war flick, corny romantic comedy flick, awfully long epic battle flick, awfully long epic battle flick sequel, gross comedy flick, flick with lots of fast cars that explode, flick with swords and lots of gore, or… Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind?" She paused at the last one and gave Remy a sideways look.
Remy looked slightly embarrassed. "It's a really good movie."
"I say we watch something funny, even if it's the type of funny that makes you drop a few IQ points. All in favor say 'aye'," Carolina suggested.
"Aye," said four unenthusiastic voices. The lump underneath the blanket emitted a feeble moan.
"Joan, come on, lighten up. We're dropping IQ points laughing like idiots. Join us!" Remy said.
"Yeah, you don't want to end up bumming us all out, do you?" Luke added.
"Nice one, Buddha," Caro said sarcastically.
"Joan? Is there something you want to talk about? Away from these clowns?" Jordan asked, approaching the lump. Joan's tousled head poked out from under the blanket.
"What are you talking about? I'm fine," she said in a sarcastic tone.
"Okay, well, you just sit there and continue to feel fine, and we're going to watch the "movie"," Grace said, making the quote gesture with her fingers.
"Oh, God, just looking at the cover you can tell it's an insult to the film industry and human reason. I don't know if I'll make it through," Luke exclaimed horrified.
"Well, you dragged us into it by inviting us here, so suck it," Carolina said.
"You guys go ahead. I'm not in the mood for snorting over gross jokes and no plot. I think I'll just go to sleep," Joan said, getting up suddenly, blanket still strapped firmly around her shoulders.
"It's not even 7:00!" Caro exclaimed. "You're such a party pooper."
"Exactly what party are you referring to?" Luke said.
"Silence, my precious," Caro hissed at him, eliciting chuckles from Remy, Jordan and Grace. She rounded the couch and grabbed Joan's arm to pull her away from the onlookers. "Joan, is this about Adam? You can't let yourself be depressed because of a guy. You should feel happy and act silly and have a good time, even if it's ripping a terrible comedy apart on a Friday night stuck at home because your parents grounded you, which, let's face it, it's short of amusing," she said making a face. "Look, I know you guys have a history and all. But you shouldn't let yourself get dragged down because of him. Ask yourself, is it really worth it?"
Joan thought about it for a moment. "It is," she said softly after a few seconds. "But sometimes I think it's too much."
"What I'm trying to say, Joan, is that you should try to make yourself happy, whatever that means. You have a date tomorrow, and I know I was actually the one who suggested you do something like that, and to tell you the truth, I never really thought you'd go through with it. And I admit I feel bad for Adam, because he's my friend too. But I think you should go on your date and enjoy yourself. And whatever happens after that is up to you."
Joan was surprised. After the jealousy plot, Joan hadn't actually thought of Caro as someone who could unleash emotionally like she had just done, and who could actually give decent, meaningful advice. "So you weren't mad at me for what happened at the library?" she asked.
"Mad? No. Appalled? Yes. First, because I know it must've stung Adam; I could see it in his face. And I honestly didn't think you'd even follow my advice. But I think what you did may be good for you. For Adam too, maybe. It's a chance for both to think over what you might be missing. Just don't think of it as revenge, or it could turn sour."
"You're right," Joan muttered. "Thank you, Caro. Hey, and if you're right about tomorrow, it may mean you crazy plan for jealousy might just work."
Caro laughed. "Did you hear that, guys? My masterful plan might just work," she said, rubbing her palms together in evil mastermind manner.
"Way to go, Dr. Evil. Now settle down," Jordan said.
"I'm still going to my room, guys. And I'm taking the Rocky Road with me," Joan announced.
"Aw, Joan, come on. What happened to the whole pep talk Canavaggio just gave you?" Grace asked.
"It was fine. I still need to be alone. I need to think. I can't think much if my IQ is dropping due to stupid humour."
"Seriously? You're sure you wouldn't rather take your mind off things for a while?" Jordan asked in a concerned tone.
"I'm just so… blegh. There's just nothing that can make me laugh right now," Joan replied with a shrug.
"Can I try?" Remy asked. "A man and a giraffe walk into a pub, they start drinking and get wasted, and the giraffe passes out on the floor. Then the man gets up to leave, but the bartender calls after him and says: "Hey, you can't leave that lyin' there!" And the man says: "That's no a lion, that's a giraffe"."
Joan almost smiled at that joke, but she just sighed. "Thanks for trying, Remy. Really. That was actually quite funny. But seriously, I just don't feel like laughing now."
"How about this: two peanuts walk into a pub. One was assaulted."
"Let it go, Remy," Joan said over her shoulder as she walked to the kitchen to fetch the ice cream.
"Aw man, I really thought I could rip a smile from her," Remy muttered. Jordan just patted his back and they all finally turned their attention to the movie that was starting to roll. Joan could go ahead and have her alone-thinking time, which she admitted to herself, was likely to turn mostly into shoveling-ice-cream time, because she really didn't want to think things over any more than she already had, and she was just looking for an excuse for shoveling ice cream. Tomorrow would be a long day for her, anyway, and only God knew for sure how it would turn out. And He was not telling.
It took Joan all Saturday morning to recover from eating the whole pot of ice cream before bed, and all breakfast (during which she just sat at the table looking sick while watching her family eat) to convince her parents that her afternoon date with Hans was exclusively for studying, therefore she should be "released on parole" for the day. Luke was surprisingly helpful, backing her up during the discussion, even if he knew it meant she would get to go out while he didn't. Joan became very suspicious, wondering why her brother would support her at a situation like this. But she wasn't about to ask, lest he would change his mind.
After lunch, she started getting nervous. She hadn't been on many dates before, and the last one had been with Adam, their first real date since they had become a couple. It was not an entirely pleasant memory, considering it had been the night Judith had been murdered. It pained Joan to just remember how perfect everything should've been, and how terribly wrong it all ended. For some time, Joan had sort of thought that, ever since that somber evening, things had unexpectedly and unnoticed begun to unravel for her and Adam. It had everything to do with how Judith's death affected them, especially Joan, who had been her only real friend; Joan had felt lost for so long, questioning everything. She believed it was such a significant event; it was only understandable why it had such a strong impact on her relationship with Adam. It was one possible explanation.
But Joan had to admit to herself, as much as she disliked it, things for her had been unraveling long before that. Everything was too much for her, and everything just added itself on and on to make even more for Joan to try to handle, impossibly, and then she lost her grip. That was the reason why she had to go to Mental Acres. It was a chain reaction: meeting Adam, falling for him, being diagnosed with Lyme disease, meeting Judith at Mental Acres, Judith's death. And all the issues her family had gone through; the lawsuit from Kevin's friend, and his terrible last few relationships; her mother's search for spirituality; her father's stressful job; Luke and Grace.
And then there was God.
It was like she was His mini-circus: He would hand her many, many objects of all shapes and sizes, sharp or blazing, and she would have to juggle for Him. And every once in a while, she wouldn't be able to keep the objects in the air and they would just crash to the floor unceremoniously.
Juggling also reminded her of Judith.
"Jordan, I don't think I can go through with this."
Joan lay on her bed, feet propped against the wrought-iron headboard. Jordan had called her on her mobile to check up on her, and Joan was glad to have someone to talk to. She had spent all night thinking, barely getting any sleep. How was possible that something as simple and innocent as a date could get her into so much turmoil?
"Joan, I thought we'd gone over this. Or at least you went over it with Caro," Jordan said.
"Yes, and I know she's right. I just don't know anymore," Joan replied. "I shouldn't have accepted. I've run myself into a corner. It was a stupid thing to do; I'm only causing more problems between me and Adam."
"But you can't back out of it now, can you? What about Hans?"
"This isn't really about Hans. We were supposed to be just work partners," Joan said. There was a silence from Jordan's end of the line, before a sigh could be heard.
"Look, Joan. I'm going to be honest with you, and I don't want you to take this the wrong way. I understand what you're going through and how you feel bad about it. But you're really giving this whole issue too much importance. Nothing has happened," Jordan began. "All I'm suggesting is that you try not to hurt Hans's feelings. He´s a great guy, and he's in this for a completely independent reason than you, and I don't think it would be fair that you drag him into you own dilemma. You should just go and get it over with, and you can deal with it later. What's so wrong with taking chances? It's not going to be the end of the world."
There was silence again. Joan played with a strand of her hair while Jordan's words sank in. "I just wish sometimes that Adam wasn't so…" she trailed off.
"Soft-spoken?"
Joan sighed again. "I was going to say meek, but yeah." She sat up and started pacing. "It would be so much better if he could sometimes be more vocal. I just wish I knew, at least to a certain extent, what he thinks about all this."
"Since when does it matter what his opinion is? It's yours that count. You're the one making the decisions. He can mind his own business, right?"
Joan decided Jordan was right after all. If Adam was not going to display anything verbally or physically or telepathically or however else, then she was not going to sit around and sulk, waiting for him to finally show some sign of awareness. She was going to dress up and go on her date. This was a chance to take her mind off things, and especially a chance to get out of the house that her parents had confined her to for God knows how much longer. She would not let that chance pass her by.
Hans called her around three and they agreed to meet at the café at four. Joan felt butterflies in her stomach as she chose what to wear. Did she want to look really pretty, just casual, or normal? What would Hans go like? Was this a serious date, or just a regular afternoon meeting over coffee? It took her a half hour to settle upon an outfit finally. An off-white top and cardigan, lavender skirt and ballerinas would have to do. She pinned back the hair on the sides of her face with beaded pins, and put on just a bit of makeup. She was sure she looked nice, but the butterflies in her stomach did not leave her alone.
"Bye, mom! I'm meeting Hans already! I'll be back early!"
Helen barely turned around in her seat at the breakfast table to watch her daughter race through the kitchen. The back door slammed a split second later, and Helen turned back to her mug of tea and her book. She briefly pondered over Joan's violent mood swings as of late, and wondered how much longer it would be going on for. Last night she was completely down, and ate a whole pot of ice cream, and now she seemed upbeat again. Today's outing most likely had nothing to do with school, that was for certain, but Helen wasn't about to dig any deeper; and she really didn't feel like keeping Joan from going out anymore. Her daughter's strange behavior hardly ever presented a logical explanation, but Joan seemed to be better when she was free to be herself, to do things her own way and for her own reasons. And Helen didn't like thinking of her daughter as a jailbird. The Gentle Acres experience was not a pleasant one, it changed many things, not only in Joan, but in the whole family, and Helen firmly believed going through it once was quite enough.
Roschmann Street was surprisingly less crowded than usual, considering Saturday was the day of the week when most shops and stores would be bustling with activity. Joan slowed down when she got closer to the café. For some reason she was afraid to go inside. There was a music store right next to it; maybe Joan could kill off time while she waited for Hans to arrive.
She wrung her hands. Where the butterflies had once been fluttering inside her stomach, there was now only a gurgling mass of nervous knots. Jordan had told her not to take things seriously; the problem with Joan was her inability to make good decisions, which eventually led to serious consequences. But there was no turning back. It was best to just get it over with. She needed to stop thinking about this as a torture or worse.
She turned away from the record store, and spun straight into someone behind her.
"Oh, God!" Joan exclaimed, smacking squarely into the stranger's face. Only God gave her starts like that, and once she recovered her breath, she was ready to sneer at Him. But her breath caught in her throat when she realized it wasn't God that had scared her like that. She had smacked into Adam.
"Oh, hey," she blurted almost incoherently. He seemed unfazed by the collision, and his expression was unreadable.
"Hey," he responded quietly. Joan let her breath go silently. She couldn't believe he had just spoken to her. She had half-expected him to brush past her as if nothing had happened, or as if she wasn't even there.
"Sorry I crashed into you," she continued, hoping for a conversation to spark.
"It's okay," he simply said. But as inarticulate as he seemed to be at the moment, he and Joan stood there, looking at each other; she tried not to show hopefulness, while he seemed to be waiting for something. It was only a split second, but it felt like years went by before she gathered her wits to speak again.
"Where are you headed?"
Adam pointed behind her. "Record store."
"Oh, neat," she said with a small laugh. But Adam didn't say anything. Joan bit her lip.
"What about you?" he asked, and Joan felt a lump in her throat. "Are you meeting your date soon?"
The flatness in his tone of voice struck Joan as odd and a bit frightening. She felt sad, and the knots in her stomach started getting rowdy.
"Look, Adam, it's not really what you think," she began, but she really didn't know how to continue. Adam chuckled, but he didn't smile.
"Since when does it matter to you what I think?" he replied half-heartedly. Joan looked pained; she searched for something to say, anything.
"You look nice, by the way," Adam added when she didn't utter a word, and before she could try to say anything else, he waved goodbye and walked past her into the record store. Joan wouldn't have been able to say anything at all; the lump in her throat had only gotten bigger, and she inhaled a shaky breath.
She suddenly felt very light and transparent, like a ghost.
Her eyes had begun to well up, when she saw Hans approaching. He smiled at her, and she mustered her most honest smile, blinking back tears.
"You'll love this place, they have everything for those with a sweet tooth," Hans said as he put a hand on her back. Joan threw a last fleeting glance inside the record store, at the head of black hair facing away from her, before she followed Hans into the café.
Chestnut café was smaller than Joan had pictured it, with round wooden tables and wrought-iron chairs cramped in the perimeter; it was dimly lit by tiny lamps on each table and a large chandelier hanging in the very middle, and even if it was still light outside and the afternoon sun poured in through the large windows, the yellow lighting gave the place a dark but cozy feeling. There was an unlit fireplace on one corner, with a couple of old armchairs and a couch surrounding it, old books strewn across the surface of an antique coffee table in the middle. The whole place had a very nice vintage feeling, and even the music playing quietly was a classic overture.
They got a table near a window. Hans showed he was a gentleman as he opened the door for her, pulled her chair out for her to sit, and allowed her to see the menu first.
That was when it hit her. Joan hadn't brought anything with her. No money, not anything. It had just occurred to her, what if she and Hans had completely different concepts on the word "date", and he was not really paying for her stuff? How embarrassing would that be? She hid her mortified expression behind the menu.
"You can order anything you want. I recommend you try a slice of the apple crumble pie. It's awesome," Hans said; it was as if he had read her thoughts. She felt relieved; it was that kind of date. Somehow that didn't make her feel at ease.
"That sounds good, but I'm not all that hungry. I think I'll just have a cappuccino and a fudge cookie," Joan said, not wanting to abuse his courtesy. She thought about Adam and how he had gone through so much trouble to make their first date perfect, how he had been so chivalrous in spite of the nerves. Joan smiled at that memory, but shook it out of her mind quickly.
Hans picked up his menu and scanned the items. "I've been looking up a lot of websites on eating disorders. I think we might be about done with all the information we would need to gather. All that's left is putting it together for the report," he said, glancing at her. Joan put her menu down and crossed her arms on the table.
"Oh, we can talk about that later. Let's just chat. I barely know anything about you," Joan said while smiling at him charmingly. "Tell me about yourself."
"Okay, well," he said, closing the menu. "My family is from Drammen, Norway, but I grew up mostly in Bergen, which is by the Hardanger Fjord. We came here when I was eleven, and I lived in Maine. And when I was twelve we moved again, looking for a change of scenery. So we've been living here in Arcadia, and it's great."
"Nice. When I moved to Arcadia, it wasn't so great. I felt out of place, and I missed my old town," Joan interjected. "I got used to it, though; I made friends, I was okay."
"Me too," Hans agreed. "I was lucky to meet someone who made me feel better. She really—" he trailed off and bit his lip. "Um, I don't think I want to talk about that."
"Why not?" Joan asked.
Hans chuckled and shook his head. "It's just that… well," he looked away for a moment, then gave her a sheepish smile. "She dumped me. About two weeks ago."
Joan's eyes widened. "Oh, I'm sorry to hear that. But don't feel bad. I understand. I actually got kind of dumped myself, just recently," she explained. She didn't mind sharing her problem about Adam with Hans.
"Kind of?" he inquired.
"It's a long story."
"Mine is, too, so I won't bore you with it. I'm moving on. I haven't shared this with anyone. It was confusing, though; to be honest I never understood what happened."
"That sucks," Joan said. "Do I know her?"
Hans scratched his neck. "I'd rather not tell you who it is."
"Come on. We're sharing heartbreak stories here. What would be the big deal? Tell me, who is it?"
Hans hesitated for a moment. He wasn't looking at her. "Rosalind."
"Rosalind?" Joan echoed, but noticed his gaze. He was actually looking past her, at someone who had just appeared at her right shoulder. Joan peeked around to find Rosalind Evans standing there, wearing the Chestnut café employee's canvas apron over an emerald green dress. She held a pen and notepad and looked from one of them to the other with a rather disbelieving expression as if she wanted to say something but preferred to hold it in.
"Oh, hi… Rosalind," Joan said with an awkward smile. Rosalind eyed her with narrowed eyes before she put on a smile.
"Welcome to Chestnut café. I'm Rosalind and I will be your waitress for this afternoon. It's a pleasure to inform you that we have a wider selection now of tea infusion flavors; and today's special is our home-made chestnut apple pie," she said in a fake cheerful tone. "Are you ready to order or would you like a few more minutes?"
Joan stared at her blankly, fighting a smile. She didn't know Rosalind worked at the café as a waitress; in fact, she didn't know much about Rosalind at all. But even so, it was weird to have a classmate speak to her so formally, even if she was serving them. She looked at Hans, but he didn't seem to be paying attention.
"Umm, it's nice to see you here," Joan began, trying to be friendly. "I didn't know you worked here. But then again, this is my first time coming here."
"May I take your order?" Rosalind said, as if she hadn't heard Joan.
"Er, Rosalind, come on, you know us from school. You don't have to be so formal," Joan requested with a congenial smile.
"Are you trying to tell me how to do my job?" Rosalind asked, now looking positively out of character. Joan nearly recoiled. Why was Rosalind being so rude.
"Rose, don't be like that," Hans replied.
"Hans, don't call me 'Rose', okay?" Rosalind said in an even tone, barely hiding her contempt.
Hans sighed. "I'm only trying to—"
"May I take your order, now?" Rosalind interrupted him, forcefully polite. Hans was hesitant again. He looked uncomfortable.
"Um, I haven't decided yet," he muttered.
"Okay, I'll come back in a few minutes, then," Rosalind exclaimed, switching back to customer service. "Excuse me." She walked away, tossing her long dark curls over her shoulder. A few seconds passed before either Hans or Joan could utter a word.
"Did she seem weird to you?" Joan asked suspiciously.
Hans was shifting in his chair. "Um, I didn't notice."
"Cuz, you know, I barely know her. I highly doubt whatever seems to be bothering her has anything to do with me. Or maybe you know something?" Joan asked pointedly.
"Maybe she's having a bad day, that's all."
"She told you not to call her Rose. She was fuming, Hans. It seems to me there's an unknown story behind that," Joan continued. When Hans didn't say anything, either because he was too busy thinking of an explanation, or because he really didn't want to get into that subject, Joan understood undoubtedly. "She's the girl you were talking about, isn't she? Rosalind's the girl who dumped you."
Hans bit his lip again. "Okay, yes. I guess that would explain why this is kind of awkward." He cleared his throat. Joan stared at him, puzzled for a moment.
"So, if she dumped you, why are we here?"
"I don't know what you mean," Hans said. He wasn't good at lying.
"Are you trying to make her jealous or something?" Joan inquired, looking at him curiously.
"Jealous?"
"Coming here on a date, specifically to the café where your recent ex-girlfriend works? Don't play innocent," she scrutinized him, noticing the slight blush creeping to his cheeks. "Now I understand why she glared daggers at me when she overheard you asking me out at the library. Did you do that on purpose?"
"Joan, I don't know what you're talking about. I didn't know she still worked here."
"I don't buy that."
Hans was about to say something, when Rosalind came back carrying a round tray with two glasses of water on the rocks. She placed one of the glasses on the table in front of Hans, banging it rather fiercely.
"Are you ready to place your order now?" she said, sounding polite but obviously flustered.
"Um, I'll have a French vanilla cappuccino and a fudge cookie. Please," Joan said. She looked at Hans expectantly.
"Er, I haven't really made up my mind yet," he stammered.
"Well, I guess that's the problem with you, Hans. You can't ever make your mind up about anything, right?" she seethed, then took the other glass of water and put it in front of Joan. But the heavy glass slipped from her hand and clattered sideways on the table, and the water and ice cubes spilled and splashed across the table and streamed directly into Joan's lap. Joan gasped, pushing the chair back quickly and jumping up to her feet, and the others gasped as well and stared at her in shock. The whole front of her skirt and cardigan were dripping wet, and the ice cubes bounced off her and onto the hardwood floor.
"I don't believe this," Joan groaned under her breath, brushing water off her skirt with her hands. She needed to go to the restroom. She gave Rosalind a deadly glare, and Rosalind only stared back, looking truthfully astonished, with her hand over her mouth.
"Oh my God, I'm so sorry. It was an accident—"
"Where's the restroom? Oh, never mind," Joan said, cutting Rosalind off, and she made her way to the back of the establishment. A few of the customers and members of the staff stared at her in surprise as she walked past, headed for the door to the restrooms.
"Miss, is everything alright?" asked the cashier worriedly. Joan waved her hand.
"Don't worry, everything's fine," she said, not even looking at her. She pushed through the swinging door and came into a little, dimly-lit hallway where the ladies' and men's room were located. She went into the ladies' room and locked the door behind her, leaning against it heavily. "Just wonderful," she said to herself with a sigh, breathing in the vanilla potpourri scent of the lavatory. If she had had no pride left at all, she would've curled up in the corner next to the toilet and cried until she felt like she could get over this. But she did have her pride, and she had to get over this now. What felt like a week that couldn't get any worse, had just grown to catastrophic proportions. And it wasn't even Sunday yet. How much longer could this God-forsaken week last?
She flipped on the light that hung over a Victorian era vanity next to the pedestal sink, and reached for a bunch of paper towels in the dispenser, to try to pat her skirt dry as best as possible. An accident my ass, Joan thought. Why did Joan have to get dragged into the middle of a lover's spat? And how could Hans use her like that? She knew he had only invited her there to show Rosalind that he was over her or something. It made her sick.
Don't be a bitch. You know you're doing the exact same thing with Adam, she said to herself, staring pitifully at her reflection in the mirror. She felt stupid; this sort of thing could only happen to her. She always seemed to bring it upon herself.
Joan pushed the face and hand dryer button, and pulled her skirt toward the stream of hot air blowing from the machine. How was she supposed to get out of that restroom now? She couldn't go back to the table and pretend like nothing happened; she would look like a fool. But she couldn't storm out of the café either, like she had no backbone. Truth was, she didn't care much about anything or anyone. She just wanted to get out of there fast, while there was still a chance to save face.
When her skirt and top were dry enough, which took a while, Joan checked her face and hair. Sure she looked a bit flustered, but maybe she looked fine enough to counter for the embarrassment she had just gone through. She decided she would proudly walk back to the table, thank Hans for the brief date, and leave to avoid any more "accidents" on Rosalind's behalf. Taking a deep breath, she turned the antique doorknob and stepped out. She nearly jumped out of her skin when a figure approached her out of the shadows.
"Joan, I'm so sorry about that," Hans said. Joan held a hand to her chest. If looks could kill, her eyes would've caused him spontaneous combustion.
"About what exactly?"
"About everything. You're right about Rosalind. She dumped me for no apparent reason, and I was mad. I just thought if I could show her I'm better off without her, and then maybe I would feel better. Just now I realize how immature it is for me to do that. I didn't mean to use you. That was not my intention, I swear. I really thought it would be nice to go out with you. I'm only trying to get over her."
Joan's expression softened. "You really like her, don't you?"
Hans sighed. "I really did. Maybe I still do. But I was really... I still don't understand what went wrong. And it's quite fresh, you know. Maybe I'm rushing things, but I thought I could really get over it by now, showing her that I don't care anymore. It just doesn't really make things any easier."
"I feel like an idiot," Joan began, mostly to herself than to the boy in front of her.
"I'm really sorry," Hans repeated.
"No, it's… not that. Never mind, forget it," she said. She wasn't about to tell him she was doing pretty much the same thing with Adam, it would be tactless.
"Considering that she's the one who broke up with me, I don't understand why she's acting like this, though," Hans continued. "I don't even know if there is something I did to get dumped, much less why she's being like this with me, and you, for that matter."
"Maybe it is something you did, and she's feeling resentful," Joan said in a tone that suggested annoyance. Boys could get rather thick sometimes, even sweet guys like Hans. "If you don't want to get any closer to the wrong side of her, I suggest you talk to her. Did it ever cross your mind to find out why she decided to end things?"
He looked at the swinging door, considering what was beyond it. "I don't think she wants to talk to me at all."
"Don't be a wimp. You should demand an explanation. If she's going to give you the cold shoulder, at least you deserve to know why. You were a couple for how many years? Three?"
Hans nodded. "You're right. I should ask her."
"And in the meantime, maybe you can tell her that this isn't a real date, unless you want her to get any angrier," Joan said. "Just explain to her that we're only together because of that investigation on eating disorders. It's got nothing to do with her."
Hans started nodding again, but he stopped and his face lit up like he had just had a revelation. "Oh, my God," he whispered. "It all makes sense now."
"What?" Joan asked.
"I think I know why she started behaving strangely," he said under his breath. He wasn't looking at her, but his eyes were wide and his mouth agape. "But if that is the case… then I just don't quite understand why she broke up with me. Why she didn't try to explain the reason to me."
"That's why you need to talk to her."
"But I need your help. I need you to back me up."
"On what?"
"You know as much about the subject as I do," he said.
"What subject is that?" Joan asked, completely lost.
"Eating disorders."
Joan couldn't hide her amazement. Was he serious? Did he think Rosalind had an eating disorder? What exactly had led him to that conclusion? Rosalind surely looked like a healthy girl; not skinny or sick, just normal. And what did that have to do with him?
Hans stared at her expectantly. Joan just shrugged. "What exactly do you expect me to do, lecture her about it? How do you even know for sure she's got one of those?"
"I'm not absolutely sure about it, but I need to find out if I want to help her," he said. He took her hand and guided her toward the door.
"What makes you so certain she's going to accept your help?"
"Because she's going to get it, whether she likes it or not. Besides," he said, pausing with his hand on the doorknob, "maybe if only I had realized what was really going on before, we wouldn't be in this situation." Before Joan could respond, he pulled the door open and led her out.
Rosalind was in the kitchen, fetching another towel to finish drying the water on the table and floor. When she came back to the table, Hans and Joan were sitting there, as if waiting for her. Hans beckoned for her to sit at the chair he had scooted over.
"Can we talk, please?" he asked gently. Rosalind only gave him an odd look.
"Look, this has nothing to do with me, Rosalind. This is between you and Hans. I'm only here because he says he needs my support," Joan said, rather awkwardly. She couldn't believe she was being dragged back into the drama, after she had been so close to escaping. "So I'm just going to sit her and shut up."
Rosalind looked positively embarrassed now. She was debating with herself whether to continue to work or to sit and find out what Hans needed to tell her so urgently in the middle of her shift, with the girl she had just dumped water on sitting as if nothing had happened. Surprisingly enough, she finally took a seat without another word.
"Rose, we've been friends for a long time," Hans began. Rosalind could barely look at him straight. "We've been a couple for almost as long as that too. We've never kept things from each other. I always trusted you, and I thought you trusted me. What happened?"
Her eyes welled up. He didn't sound angry or resentful. He sounded hurt. She looked down at her hands and took a long time to think before she spoke.
"You want to know what's going on with me? The truth is I haven't felt like myself for a long time, and sometimes I don't even know what is going on with me," she said.
"You can tell me about it," Hans said.
"No, I can't. It's too awful."
"Please, try. I want to know; I want to understand."
There was another pause before anyone spoke again. Joan felt her pulse speed with the expectation.
"About a year ago, after the holidays, I gained some weight. Well, plenty, actually," Rosalind began, her voice very low and hoarse. "I promised myself that I would lose that weight. I worked out and dieted. I decided to get a job to be able to pay for a subscription at the gym and diet pills. That's when I started working here. But you can't work at a coffee shop and not eat sweets. When I started here, I gained even more weight, and all the things I was working to afford to lose weight were really not paying off. It became a vicious cycle. So I thought, maybe, if I threw up what I ate before it could make me fat, I wouldn't gain weight, and I'd be fine."
"Binging and purging," Hans muttered. That's when Joan noticed. Rosalind did look different. She had dark circles under her eyes, still visible beneath the concealer and makeup, and her skin was rather pale and dull.
"At times I was able to stop doing it, but I would stop losing weight, so I'd just start doing it again. I had found an easy solution. But then you said I looked different, that I looked sick, and that just pissed me off. I knew it wasn't good for me to do that, but after a while I couldn't stop at all. I just felt pudgy and disgusting, and for some reason I started believing that you liked me thin. I guess, the same way I felt different about myself, I thought you felt different about me too." A tear slipped from Rosalind's eye and left a trail on her cheek, washing away some of the concealer with it, and revealing the darker skin underneath.
Joan was too shocked to speak or breathe. Hans looked like he was about to cry. It felt like the coffee shop had disappeared around them. Rosalind sniffed while more tears made their way down her face. She brushed some of them carelessly with the back of her hand. "I guess I didn't want to be around you anymore if you were disgusted by me. Heck, I didn't want to be around myself. I felt gross and stupid. And I couldn't stop eating or throwing up."
"So you broke up with me," Hans interjected.
"I tried to keep a distance for a while, but you got angry about that. Yes, that's why I broke up with you. But that didn't make me feel any better. Because I felt like an idiot: I had made a big mistake, but I didn't know how to justify it. I couldn't just tell you the truth; that would have been awful and probably would've only made things worse. But I was still sad, and when I'm depressed I eat, and when I eat, I need to… dispose of it right away," Rosalind continued painfully, tears falling profusely now. Joan felt like crying too. She felt bad for this girl. Joan knew she could be self-conscious about her looks and weight, but never to such lengths.
"I felt stuck. I couldn't quit my job here, because I needed the money for the gym and the dieting pills. But if I kept working here, I would continue to eat. I couldn't stop throwing up because everything I ate made me feel sick anyway. And I couldn't try to explain this to you or anyone because it was too embarrassing. But not being able to tell you about this, talk to my best friend only made things worse. I felt lonely."
There was a long silence that followed this statement. Hans ran a hand through his hair, looking at Rosalind in disbelief. Joan just looked at him, waiting for his reaction.
"I can't believe you kept all of this from me," Hans said breathlessly, sad eyes fixed on the table. "I mean, I'm your best friend. Or at least was. Why didn't you trust me?"
"It somehow felt like you had stopped being my friend and became only my boyfriend. It's different," Rosalind said seriously. Hans was surprised.
"No, it's not. We were friends before we started going out. We had something extra special. Why should that change?" He took her hands in his. "Don't you realize that I think that you're the greatest, most beautiful girl ever? I don't care how much you weight or what size you are. I love you for who you are, anyway that you are."
Rosalind started crying again. Joan was staring transfixed at the interaction between the two. She felt like she was watching the climax of a romantic film, when the guy confesses his love for the girl. Then she blushed slightly when she remembered she was watching live and in full color. She took her cue to exit. Standing up quietly, she moved to the back of the store, and when she was a safe distance away, she looked over her shoulder. They were hugging. They didn't even notice she had left. Smiling to herself, she made her way to the counter and ordered her coffee and fudge cookie. After everything that had happened, she felt happier than she had in a while.
"Can I have a green tea large, please?"
A boy with shaggy dark brown hair and bright green eyes had walked in, unzipping the front of his black jacket. Joan had seen him before, but she couldn't quite place him. She smiled at him and he smiled back, sitting only a stool away from her while he waited for his tea.
"I just love reconciliations," he began saying suddenly. "It's especially great when you have a hand in it, isn't it, Joan?" he added.
Joan shook her head and chuckled. She knew she had seen this guy before. God turned on His stool to face her, and she just ignored him.
"It's been a weird day. Need I say I don't need you to drive me any crazier than I already feel? I just want to eat my cookie and drink my coffee in peace before I have to eventually come out of this state of mind and face the harsh reality again. It feels like quite enough already, I really don't think there's anything else that can go wrong for me right now," she said, not looking at Him. Just then, the girl at the counter came over to her.
"Miss, I'm really sorry. We're actually out of fudge cookies."
"Owww…" Joan bowed her head.
"Get her a chocolate chip cookie, then, please," God said. He looked at Joan and winked. "My treat."
Joan couldn't help but smile gratefully, and the counter attendant finally brought her a much awaited sweet, and also a French vanilla cappuccino and a green tea.
"So this is what you meant by 'go with the flow'? And how did I have a hand in this? I just sat there and said nothing," Joan started. God leaned against the countertop.
"There's no need to say anything. You just show support."
"That's cheesy. I pretty much had no choice."
"You're better at this than you give yourself credit for."
"I just told him the truth. He is entitled to an explanation. It's just not fair for him to be left in the dark."
"It would've been great if someone could have told Adam exactly that."
Joan stopped chewing and looked at God oddly. The way He had said that, it almost sounded like He was trying to make her feel guilty.
"I could never have told him the whole truth. You know that," she replied, feeling hurt.
"It's still your choice."
"That's easy for you to say; you have all the answers," Joan said.
"It's not about knowing the answer to everything. It's about criteria. It's about one of the most important aspects of human nature,"
"Which one, specifically?" Joan asked.
"Dealing with change," God replied. He took a sip of the green tea. "It's obvious you felt that being away from Adam, putting your relationship on hold, could help you understand it better, see it from a different perspective, and then maybe feel more in touch with him and with yourself. Even if you explained that to him, it probably doesn't work the same for him. In Adam's case, staying close to you, even if you weren't 'together', helped him see everything from a different perspective. He never meant to drift away, and he still doesn't want to. He's just waiting for you to understand."
"Understand what?"
"The reason why you really want to be with him. What keeps you together."
It took Joan a moment to digest what God had just relied. She wondered if it was true, if that was the way Adam thought of her. It surely didn't seem like it. But God's words kept her hopeful.
She glanced at the front of the café, where Hans and Rosalind were still talking, quietly and closely, holding hands on the tabletop. "What's going to happen now?"
"They will be alright. You helped them find each other again. They have a lovely story together. I know today's chapter wasn't exactly charming, but it's all part of it."
Joan gave a quiet snort. "'Not exactly charming'," she repeated. "That's an understatement. I was totally embarrassed."
"You'll get over it," God said with a wave of His hand.
"If anything, I feel bad. I know too much about their private life now," Joan said.
"Well, at least you're good at keeping secrets, aren't you?" God was smirking, and Joan glared. She waited for the attendant to give them the bill and leave.
"Enough secrets already. I have my own to deal with. In fact, I have a huge one that right now looks like a Brit rock band geek vocalist who drinks green tea."
"It's still your choice. You decide if you can handle the consequences. I'm still here," He replied. He grabbed His cup and stood up, reaching into the back pocket of His jeans to retrieve a wallet. Joan watched in amusement as God produced a couple of bills and some change to pay the bill.
"And God said 'let me foot the bill'," Joan said, standing up and looking over. "And He was a lousy tipper."
God opened His mouth, apparently to say something in return, but He seemed to change His mind and kept quiet. They walked to the entrance together. Joan looked to her right; Hans and Rosalind turned to see her leaving, and they just smiled. Joan smiled back, feeling happy with herself. She had just performed a bit of matchmaking, and that was a nice idea. But she hardly wished she could do it again; it was much too complicated. She really didn't think of herself as a romantic person.
"Romanticism isn't just about love. It's about inner beauty and the beauty that each person sees and interprets in his or her own way," God was saying, knowing what Joan had been thinking; "it's about expression and communication and feelings; love and heartbreak and forgiving. It's about life and death; knowledge and mystery; joy and sadness; the magic and the miraculous. It's about everything human beings experience in this world. It's poetic even when it doesn't seem all that beautiful."
Joan and God stood at the door, looking through the crystals at the outside world. People walking, cars driving by, sounds and smells, the sky darkening slightly; so simple and yet so fantastic. Joan felt a bit like she had when God had given her a glimpse of the big picture. Overwhelmed, confused and ecstatic, like she was having a revelation. This picture only lay on the other side of the door; it was like she had been given a new set of eyes and was only starting to get things into focus. It was very romantic.
"Do you know what 'serendipity' means?" God asked while they continued to stand there. "It's a fortunate discovery that occurs by accident. It's a beautiful, romantic way for people to say that perhaps everything is written, that anything and everything that people do may seem so fortuitous, but maybe it's all part of fate. Everyone's story has a beginning and an ending. Whether you believe in destiny or not, you just continue to live out that story. You'll never know the ending before you get there; what would be the point of knowing? What would be the point in getting up in the mornings and making choices? Ever skipped to the last page of a new book to find out how it ends before you have actually started it? You still read the rest of the book, don't you? Because it enriches you, it's enjoyable and thrilling, even if you know how it ends. What if you hadn't read that last page at all? It probably would've made for an even more exciting book, much more surprising, wouldn't it?"
Joan nodded in understanding.
"You make choices everyday, not knowing what might happen as a result of those choices. Things may turn out the way you want them to, or maybe not. But you still take chances. Because that is the only way you can know what is going to happen next."
God pulled the door open and walked out; as Joan followed, she saw Adam. He had come out of the record store and stepped to the edge of the sidewalk; he was putting a brand new CD into his Discman, and he sat down on a nearby bench at the corner bus stop. Joan took a deep breath and walked decidedly toward him. She was making a choice right now. She wanted him to make up his mind, because her own was already set. She wished they could be together again, she wanted to give it another try. She wanted to be open with him, whatever that implied.
His eyes were closed as she sat next to him, obviously immersed in the music. She brought him out of his meditation by plucking one of the earpieces out of his left ear and held it to her own. He just looked at her oddly while she listened to the music. Her eyebrows shot up.
"John Mayer?" she asked in surprise.
Adam held up the album. "It's relaxing. Besides, he's a good songwriter."
"I agree. I think his songs are very… romantic," Joan said, for lack of a better, more perfectly fitting word. She glanced at him and found him looking directly at her.
"Yeah, they are," he said with a nod. They sat there quietly for a moment, just listening to the angsty lyrics of "St. Patrick's Day".
"So… how was your date?" he asked tentatively. Joan bit her lip.
"I don't think I want to talk about that. It didn't go very well," she confessed, figuring it was best to be honest.
Adam was looking down at his hands. "I'm sorry to hear that."
"Oh, no. Things worked out perfect, actually; for Hans. Oh, and Rosalind," she said. "You see, it was all a jealousy plot. He was trying to find the truth, and he got it. And it's all well. But that's all I can say."
Adam gave a sort of laugh. "Well, that's good, I guess," he said, and he was met by silence.
"I miss you."
Her eyes met his as the words left her lips. His expression was difficult to understand, but he held her gaze as if he was having trouble to understand her as well.
"I miss you too."
Her heart started beating a million miles per hour. She could hardly believe he had just said those words; she wanted to pinch herself to make sure it was true. But she was still worried.
"I know it's been hard. I know there's been a lot we've had to deal with. I don't think I handle things well most of the time, and that is why I sometimes feel like I need to get away. Sometimes I feel like running away," she said with a nervous chuckle. "But now I realize I've been trying to make the best choices all along. I can't predict if things will turn out okay. But I try to choose as best as I can. It helps me to figure out what I really want. And right now, I want to be with you again. You make me feel whole. I thought I could find myself easier if I cooled things down with you, but the truth is I've only felt lost and incomplete."
Adam turned off the music. Joan took it as a good sign that he was paying attention to her.
"I never intend to hurt anyone, especially not you. It just happens sometimes. And I'm always sorry. There's hardly anything I can do to really apologize and make everything right, especially in this case. But you're… you, and I'm willing to make up for my mistakes, no matter how long it takes."
She turned on her seat so that she was facing him completely. He only continued to look at her sideways.
"What we have is special, whether we're a couple or just friends," Joan continued. "I think that I've come to realize that a little late, but I know it now. I can't tell you I'm sorry a million times and tell you that I would love it if we could try again, and you may not agree with me or you may not forgive me. But you're still a very important person in my life, and if we can't be a couple again, then at least maybe we could continue to be friends. Because we're good together, and I feel lonely if I can't be with you. I don't know if you feel the same way, but it's all I can do: tell you how I really feel, and hope that you'll understand."
"Jane, you don't have to keep apologizing over and over," Adam interrupted. It took a moment for Joan to realize that Adam had just called her 'Jane'. It felt nice, a warm tingling sensation on her insides, it almost felt like she had just been jolted with electricity.
"I've been doing a lot of thinking," he continued, Joan hanging on his every word. "Everything had been going so well, it was all normal. You and me, we were just friends again, and I guess that was just fine with me, that was enough. Of course I wanted to be with you again, but I didn't know if I was willing to risk getting hurt again."
"I would never hurt you again. I didn't even mean to hurt you once in the first place," Joan interjected.
"I know. But it still feels awful. When you asked me if I would be willing to try again, I couldn't just let myself give in so easily. I have a backbone, you know."
Joan smiled. "I know."
"So I wanted to really give it some thought. And I did."
"And?" Joan urged him to continue. Adam took a moment before he smiled back at her.
"If we're going to do this, Jane, I think we should take things slowly."
Joan was barely able to contain herself. She just threw her arms around him and squeezed, and even harder when she felt his arms slip around her back and return the bear hug. Her eyes filled with tears and she was laughing, and she heard him laugh too. After a long time, they let go enough to be able to look at each other.
"I love it when you call me Jane," she said breathlessly.
"I know."
Joan sniffled. "Well, I guess this day didn't turn out to be a complete waste," she said, feeling peaceful. It was like a weight had been lifted off her shoulders.
"I guess not," he replied, grinning as widely. Joan sighed in satisfaction. She inched closer to him, her face only millimeters from his.
"I've been waiting to do this for a long time," she whispered.
"What?" he asked in confusion.
"This," she said, and she kissed him tenderly. When she pulled back, Adam was smiling even wider.
"Actually, I've been waiting for you to do that longer than you," he replied. Joan chuckled.
"Well, I'm more than willing to make up for lost time," she answered, and they kissed again.
"And then she threw water on me!"
"Ah, wish I had been there with a camera."
"Grace, that is so mean. Wonder how you'd like it if someone did that to you?"
"Hey, it's not like I've done anything. I wasn't there, remember?"
Joan shook her head, looking at the phone in disbelief. She was on three-way call with Jordan and Grace, and Jordan was on speakerphone so that Caro could talk too. Joan had been telling them about her disastrous day with the happy ending. She decided not to go into details about Hans and Rosalind's story, but she was very graphic about her making up with Adam. They all squealed (except Grace) in excitement at the news. This time around Joan was really feeling the happiest she had in days.
"Hey, guys, I've got to go bed. My parents are already fussy about the fact that I didn't do any work with Hans, I don't need them to cut my phone privileges," Joan said.
"Alright. We'll talk more tomorrow," Jordan said.
"I'm so glad you guys finally made up," Caro added. "Oh, and you can thank me later."
"For what, exactly?" Joan frowned.
"You said so yourself: my crazy scheme might just work. And it did! Muahaha!" Caro replied with a phony evil laughter.
"Sure thing, Caro. How will I ever thank you?" Joan said in a sarcastic tone.
"Well, I like Jaguars," Caro said.
"Yeah, sure, uh-huh. Dream on, but thanks for your help anyway," Joan answered.
Caro mumbled something that sounded like "dreaming don't cost a thing" before Jordan interrupted. "You go to sleep now, Joan, before your mom gets mad at all of us."
"Night, then."
"Night, Joan. Night, Grace."
"Night, Girardi. Night, Canavaggios."
Joan put the phone down on her bedside table and jumped into bed. She was exhausted for some reason. Hopefully tonight she would be able to get a good twelve hours of sleep, if Helen allowed her to sleep in. This day had been very productive, and she felt she deserved a break.
But after a few minutes, she started to think about Adam again. In spite of her joy for being in good terms with him again, she couldn't stop thinking about how everything had gotten started in the first place; how hurt Adam had been when she broke up with him, how hurt she felt when he waived her off just a few days before. She was afraid to go through that again, or put him through that again. Her thoughts wandered over to college. In less than a year, they would be graduating, and then what would happen? Where would they go? Would they stay together? How was Joan going to deal with going separate ways after she fought so hard for getting back together?
They had never spoken about it. Joan had bee trying to focus lately on getting better grades for a better chance at getting into a good university, that she had completely forgotten what else that would mean. How was she supposed to bring up that subject now with Adam after they had just made up?
All these questions and many more ran over and over through Joan's head while she stared up at the ceiling, trying to shut her eyes and fall into blissful sleep. But now she knew she would stay up all night, thinking how she would be able to cope if things fell apart again.
As much as I tried to edit, this chapter still was too long. But I didn't want to split it in two, because that would have been a headache. Do you have any ideahow many timesI gotwriter's block whileI wrote this chapter?Hope you don't fall asleep while reading this.
Joey, you are correct. Isn't that like one of the greatest books you've ever read? Now go read Milan Kundera's "The unbearable lightness of being. It takes you to a completely different level.
Okay, Mike, I promise, this time Dante's really coming along soon. Just have a little faith.
The Original Chemist grumbles something and sighs in resignation, putting his über-monstrous paintball gun back in the case.
Have anice weekend. Thank you and goodnight.
-.In the darkness.-