11/24/05

.-.-.-.-.-.

Taken out of context, it was a simple question, asking for a random detail. Taken out of context, it wasn't the most difficult question Alicia would ever have to answer. Taken out of context, it wasn't hurtful, and painful, and filled with dread.

In context, it meant that Regal didn't know how old she was.

Regal didn't know. He was supposed to have known. He was supposed to have a vague idea at the very least.

But he didn't know.

He was supposed to. Because, if he knew that she was that young and still wanted to be with her, then he had to love her. She knew his age, and she wanted to be with him due to that reason. And- and he had to know hers, so he could- so that he did...

Regal was staring at her, so very tall, still waiting for her to answer. A hand gripped Alicia's shoulder and squeezed, the gentle support of a friend. Couldn't Melissa say it? Couldn't they just drop the subject? Her throat wouldn't allow her to speak; her eyes wouldn't allow her to look away from the man standing before her. Every moment silent made it all so much worse, yet were she to answer...

If she could accept the age difference, then so could he. He cared for her, even if he didn't- if he didn't-

"I'm fourteen."

Instead of bracing herself, Alicia felt her body relax. She couldn't understand why. Melissa gave her shoulder another squeeze, but Alicia didn't look up at her.

This way, she didn't miss one nuance of Regal's reaction. This way, she would know for sure. This way, she wouldn't have to fight to look back at him, because if she looked away, she didn't think she could ever face him again.

It was a moment before he said anything, the sounds of the sea and the laughter of children resounding strangely in their ears. The sun shone, the waves splashed; the only notice the world took of them was how the happy tourists walked past them a little faster than they normally would have.

No matter what, don't make a scene. Don't. Don't make people stare.

When Regal cut himself off from someone, guarded himself against someone, he truly looked the part of a noble. It was a man she had heard of and never seen who asked her one more question. It was not a person she knew.

"Do you know how old I am?"

He wanted her to say no, that was clear. No, she hadn't known that. She wouldn't have ignored that and placed him in a situation where he risked the humiliation and scorn of being viewed as a pedophile. She was better than that. She was ignorant.

She was a child.

"Yes."

Except that she knew. Except that she had. Except that she wasn't.

"...How old?"

She had one more chance. If she gave him the wrong number, he'd forgive her. He'd accept that, he would correct her, and then he would give her and apology and a good-bye.

Either way, the relationship was at an end.

"She didn't know."

Her friend's voice shocked Alicia into looking up at her. "Mel-"

"Not until after that stupid event," Melissa continued, her tone protective or offensive, depending on who heard it. "A friend told me, and I told Alicia. And we thought you knew-"

Regal interrupted her. "Alicia. How old?"

Here was her last sliver of a chance. He would force himself to believe that Melissa's friend had told her the wrong number if Alicia told him one that was incorrect. Just one lie... Just one.

Alicia looked him in the eye and told him how old he was.

Duke Bryant and Alicia Combatir faced one another, separate from any support, separate from any sounds of joy, separate from a glorious day. But most of all, they stood separate from each other.

"...And you thought this was all right? Why would you..."

Did he think she was some sort of a fawning girl? A suck-up, a hanger-on? Alicia wasn't. She wasn't!

There was more anger than sadness when she said in reply: "Because I thought you loved me like how I love you."

There was something in Regal's mind that made him unable to accept this, and he proved as much a moment later. In that instant, he proved to be more of a noble than she had ever seen anyone be before. And had he stood there, dressed like one, and had he pulled off one glove, finger by finger, in the most deliberate and calculating manner possible, before proceeding to slap her across the face with it, he could not have hurt her more.

"You're a child."

...It was over.

It was done.

It was going to break her if she did not leave right now.

She found her voice, regained control of her body. A practiced tone with a practiced motion, she curtsied deeply and responded, "So you say, Master Bryant. Have I your permission to leave?"

"...You do."

Alicia turned, she walked away, and she left. There was a hand on her shoulder, and it was pushing her forward, tugging her where she needed to go. It kept her moving and kept her standing.

When it let her go, she was sitting down on her bed. It let go for a moment, and it was an arm when it returned. There was an arm hugging her, and there was a friend holding her. It was all right for the tears to come now.

But that was the only thing that was all right.

.-.-.-.-.-.

"Life goes on, Ali-cat."

It was a lesson she knew she had learned earlier than most. Losing a person hurt, more than anything else could. It wasn't fair, at all.

"You're a big girl, so I'm going to tell you straight-out: it's hard."

The first day after, Alicia woke up late. Pay-docked late. That was just great, wasn't it? Not only was she sunburned, dehydrated, and, oh yes, rejected, she was in trouble, too. Grumbling her Melissa-approved grouchy words, Alicia dressed as quickly as she could and discovered that she was a lot more sunburned than she'd thought. Her next discovery was a lot less painful.

There was a note tacked on the door.

There was a note.

A note for her.

A note.

Oh Martel. Oh thank Her, thank Her! Everything was fine. Everything was great! Regal didn't hate her. Not at all. Smiling broadly and hopping slightly as she pulled on her other stocking, she ran over in her mind what it must say. She could practically see it.

Dear Alicia,

I love you, and I want to make this work. I won't say that your age doesn't present a problem, but I can handle that challenge. If you'd prefer to wait until you're old enough, I'll support your decision, and I will wait for you.

I apologize for reacting so poorly yesterday. I had thought that you were eighteen, at the youngest. You don't look as if you were fourteen, and your maturity belies your age. I was taken completely by surprise.

If you can, meet me tonight at the usual place. There's much we need to talk about.

Love,

The Rearranger

Things would go back to how they were before. They'd be better, even. Yes, they would have to delay having a public relationship for a while longer, but every relationship had its hitches, didn't it? She and Regal would get through all of theirs. They were in love, after all.

On one level, it was frightening. On another, exhilarating. The thought of him was enough to make her emotions extreme and her heartbeat to pick up alarmingly. She wanted to be close to him, even if they weren't doing anything special, because just being with him was special. That she could cause the same reaction in him was... amazing. She wasn't anything remarkable, not like how Regal was.

Of course, there was no one like Regal. Not in all of Tethe'alla could a man be found like him.

Physically, Alicia still felt terrible, but as she took the note off of the door, she was happy, she was loved, and she was... switched to Melissa's dinner shift. Alicia would be also taking care of dessert and on clean-up crew.

...and go back to bed, Ali. Scratch that, get something to eat and definitely something to drink, stay vertical for half an hour, and then go back to bed. I got you a nice block of wood if you want to whittle. Just don't forget to do it over the trashcan again.

I'll be back right after lunch. Take care, okay?

Oh. So... he...

Oh.

Well.

That... That was...

Right, food. She should... eat. Or... something.

"But you still have us. Your sister and I are here for you. Yes, just like how you're here for us."

It took over a week to finish the figurine. It wasn't as good as anything Presea would have made, but it was still good enough for a gift.

"You like it?" Alicia asked sheepishly.

"Of course I do."

"Really?"

"It's adorable, Ali," Melissa replied, giving her a hug and a smile. "It's the best dog-bear-wolf thing anyone's ever made for me."

"It's the only dog-bear-wolf thing anyone's ever made for you."

"Oh?" Melissa asked skeptically, raising an eyebrow. "And how would you know that?"

"'Cause I made the animal up while I was making it."

Truth be told, it was meant to be a bear. Melissa didn't need to know that, though. Alicia didn't need to have been doing the birthday custom all of her life to know not to point out the flaws of whatever gift she was giving.

"Oh, okay. What do you call it?"

"Ali-cat? Shh... Daddy's here, Ali-cat... Don't you fret, don't you fret... Don't worry about crying on me. Go right ahead."

She tried not to. She really did. Alicia wasn't the crying kind. She was the pick-herself-up-and-smile kind.

Yes, smiles couldn't last forever. It helped that they didn't need to. Hours, afternoons, half a day; that was how long they ever needed to last at a time. Alicia could last that long. She had to.

So she did.

The world had really flipped on her. Alicia was the one who coaxed Melissa through heartbreak and out of it. She was the shoulder to cry on, the bright energy that made others grin despite themselves. She was good at it. She had been good at it.

Now Melissa was. Melissa was the one who explained how Alicia had met a guy at the beach who she had really liked. It had been Ali's first, Melissa told all who asked, and it had been Ali's first rejection, too. Don't bring it up; don't pity the girl either. They knew her, she'd bounce back. It just might take a little longer than usual. And for Martel's sake, Rebecca, don't try to set her up with your son. Not that Robert was a bad guy, but that was the last thing Ali needed.

Alicia had stood there, just around the corner, completely silent. She wasn't supposed to hear Melissa saying all that. She wasn't supposed to know that everybody was going to be trying to cheer her up.

That was okay.

That was fine, really. It was actually a comfort, letting people know. Melissa would be her buffer.

Melissa would be the shoulder to cry on now. She would be the bright energy, the one who could coax others out of heartbreak.

Knowing that made her so relieved.

"It hurts, I know. And I know that you'll miss Mommy..."

Between her job, Melissa, and the number of people who she interacted with daily, Alicia's mind was seldom getting time to wander. She was lucky that way. The kitchen staff was like a huge, supportive, mismatched family. Cook could nearly be as protective of his workers as he was of his kitchen. Everyone from Annie "Maple" Janis, the woman who made the best pancakes the world had ever seen, to Sparticus Howell, the man who could make any dish look even better than it tasted (and that was saying something), was always willing to give her a smile and a few words.

But maybe it had always been like that. Maybe Alicia just hadn't realized until she had to really focus on work and her friends. She couldn't let her mind wander. Not yet. Eventually, maybe.

There would be a time where she didn't feel an empty space inside her whenever she reached inside her apron pocket. There had to be. She had to stop needing him. It was pointless. If he had meant to, he would have done something by now. He had his reasons, and Alicia had to admit that they were good ones.

The problem was how well she understood that.

"...but you should always keep this in mind: Mommy loves you. I know that as she sleeps besides Martel, she dreams of you."