Chapter Sixteen: Another Side to Becky

"What's your problem?" I asked, settling down on my bed.

"Nothing," she said quickly. "Nothing at all."

"Then why are you staring at me?"

She shrugged her shoulders and I knew something was bothering her.

"Come on dude, you can tell me what's on your mind."

She sighed. "I was thinking."

"Shit, that's scary," I said making my voice light.

"I'm being serious! If you don't want to talk--"

"Sorry! I didn't mean to offend you," I said with a mollifying smile. "Go ahead; tell me what's on your mind."

"Well I was thinking about this whole time travel thing," she said, her words slow and deliberate.

"What about it?"

"Well, what do you think is going to happen when we get back, I mean if we get back," she said, her voice filled with utter sadness.

"Don't worry, we'll get back," I said quickly. "What's gonna happen, well I can't say for sure. I mean no one is going to believe us."

"I bet our families are worried sick about us."

"If they're still around," was my reply.

She sat bolt upright and stared at me with panic-stricken eyes. "What are you talking about?"

I sighed and wished I never voiced my thoughts. "I read a book one time," I said choosing my words very carefully, "and in that book they mentioned time travel. The book said a guy when back in time to a magical cave for an hour and when he returned, it was a hundred years later and all his friends and family were gone."

"That doesn't make me feel any better," she said sadly. Tears were starting to fill her eyes and she started yelling at me. "This is all your damned fault, you do know that right? I mean you had to be the one that agreed to help Holmes with his case instead of looking for a way to get back home! And now, after you dragged me into this, you nearly scared me to death and you're still acting nonchalant. Don't you care at all what happens to us? Don't you even care what happens to our families?

'I mean come on Mac, you're always so cold, so unfeeling! You don't give a damn what happens to anyone else but you. If it doesn't suit you then it's not suitable for anyone. You are like a god-damned dictator! Do this, do that! I'm sick of it Mac! I'm sick of it! I hate you! All right? I fucking hate you!" She finished her shouting with a sob and buried her head in her pillow.

I was completely taken aback by her words. She had never spoken to me like that before, no one had. Her words cut me deeply, especially when my best friend since the third grade, my 'sister' just said she hated me. I felt a blind rage slowly building up within me and I took several deep breaths in effort to calm it. My vision was very slowly beginning to turn red, as it always does when I get really angry, and my hands shook with rage.

"You hate me? Fine! Go right ahead and hate me! I don't need you, I don't need anyone! You think I'm self-absorbed? Maybe it's because I'm constantly surrounded by imbeciles like you! Oh Mac, what will happen to our families? Oh Mac, what will happen to us? Do you think I have all the god-damned answers?

'Christ! I don't know what's going to happen, all right? The only thing I know is we're stuck here, together, and there is nothing we can do about it at the present moment. If you stopped whining for once in your god-damned life, then maybe we could find a logical way to get out of this! But no, you are content to sit there and sob, waiting for anyone to comfort you and tell you that you're a good little girl.

'Have some backbone for Christ's sake!" I finished my statement vibrating with fury. My fists were clenched into tight fists and a thin trickle of blood was running down my hand from where my fingernails were biting into the flesh.

Becky and I sat staring at each other for several minutes in silence, attempting to control our emotions. She was the first to break the silence.

"Hey Mac, look I…I'm sorry. I don't hate you, and I don't know what made me say that. It's just that you're so damned cold sometimes."

"Yeah well, the only reason I'm cold is because I'm scared. Admitting fear shows vulnerability and vulnerability will only keep you from accomplishing what you want. I'm sorry for what I said too, but I mean hey, I was provoked."

"Let's make a deal all right? We don't fight like this ever again. Deal?"

"Deal," I replied with a smile.

"So Mac, what do you think about this whole time travel deal?"

I shrugged; my temper was slowly beginning to subside. "I don't know I kinda like it here in Paris. The company is great and the problem at hand is really interesting."

Becky smiled, her smile spoke volumes, many of which I chose to ignore. "You sound like you're not anxious to leave. Why?"

"Well," I said attempting to make myself comfortable, "this is like a dream come true for me. I mean come on; I'm helping one of my literary heroes solve an awesome case. Why would I be in a hurry to get home?"

"I don't know! It all seems so unreal to me."

"I don't think something like this has ever happened to anyone before, at least not outside of fiction. Oh well," I said stifling a yawn. "I think we'd better get some sleep. Holmes said we have a busy day ahead of us tomorrow."

"How are we going to solve the mystery?" Becky asked, not taking the bait.

Once again I shrugged. "Can't answer that one," I replied.

"I wanna see who this voice belongs to," my friend replied.

"So do I."

"You know something?"

"Damn, you're talkative tonight. What is it?"

"It's kinda weird."

"What is? Stop talking in god-damned riddles!"

"It's weird how Holmes treats you like shit and you still like to spend all that time alone with him."

I was thankful Becky was staring at the ceiling because she could not see the fierce color red my face became. "Look, mind your own damned business! My feelings for Sherlock Holmes, whatever they may be, are from this moment on, completely off limits. Got it?"

"Yeah," she said using a drawl that not only grated on my nerves but also let me know that this discussion was far from over.

"Besides," I said, wanting to rectify Becky's earlier statement, "Holmes does not treat me like shit. He is very kind and a gentleman. So is Doctor Watson."

"Doctor Watson is a total nice guy," Becky said, "but I still don't think Holmes treats you with any respect."

"Look, can we just drop it please?"

"Maybe," she said with a stupid lilt in her voice.

"Listen, I'm tired, I'm in agony and I'm not in the mood for sarcasm. I'm going to bed, good night," I said, extinguishing the gas lamp over my bed and turning over on my side.

"Good night," Becky replied.

After several minutes of pondering the day's events, I fell into a restless sleep.