Disclaimer: It's probably obvious, but I don't own any of the HSM characters or their related elements.
Written July 4, 2006
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Chapter 11 – The Way Home
At the brunch with Marian Molitor, I arrived early to tuck my bags discreetly under my chair. I was leaving for the airport directly after the interview, so I needed to make a quick getaway. I'd already said goodbye to Taylor, hugging her and thanking her so much for everything this weekend.
Marian arrived not long after I did. She was a slim woman with alert, birdlike eyes, who sat with impeccable posture and gave intelligent answers to every question I asked. She talked candidly about her vision for the future of science, but suddenly, I began to feel half-distracted in frightened anticipation for the flight home. For a moment, I got completely lost in thinking what Troy might say when I finally got back. It was then that I realized that Marian had finished her answer long ago and was looking at me expectantly for the next question.
"Gabriella?" she said after a moment, and I jumped, blurting out the first thing that came to mind.
"How did you… do it?"
She looked at me quizzically. "How did I do what?"
I felt myself grow red and tried to save it somehow."This. Everything that you've done. Going from a small tech company to a sprawling research firm. Do you ever look back at it all and wonder, how did I get here?"
She was serious for a minute, and then suddenly she laughed. "Actually… now that you mention it, sometimes I do." She paused, then spoke again, thoughtful. "I think it has to do with what makes success in any field… in anything, really. There's the basic three: vision, commitment, and a whole lot of effort. But the key ingredient is the fourth one. That's courage."
She nodded slowly as she said it, as if she was absorbed in the thought unfolding before her. "Because many have the stamina and ambition to do the first three. But it takes courage to take the leap and decide on your vision. It takes courage to push it forward despite opposition. And it takes courage to persist and keep your hope, even when all signs show you might fail."
And as she finished, I felt shaken to the core. It was as though she knew exactly where I would be headed next—straight home to Troy, to whatever might still be there. Nodding blindly, I scribbled down her words and moved onto the next question. But for the rest of the interview, her advice echoed in my head like a beacon of hope, strengthening my resolve to get back and somehow make things all right.
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I typed up my notes and a rough draft of the story on the plane, trying to distract myself from the time ticking away till our arrival. But in the end, the work only made the flight go faster, and it felt like we touched down on the San Francisco tarmac just minutes after taking off from New York.
I could feel my heart racing as the plane slowed to a halt. The rapid pounding echoed in my ears as I grabbed my bag out of the overhead compartment, walking over into the airport and toward the train station. I suddenly wished I had brought more luggage, so I could dawdle at the baggage carousel, but I hadn't thought that far in advance last Friday. I felt adrift without Taylor or Ryan behind me, telling me everything was okay.
A strong sense of déjà vu came over me as I rode the train into the city, the sun starting to gently set in the west. Months ago, this was how it had all started—me rushing back to find him, to apologize, to see if we could make it after all. But back then, we were still wrapped in the first flush of love, impervious to everything, even my ability to screw things up. Now, we were seeing each other with open eyes, realizing things could damage us…. and I'd somehow found a way to hurt him so badly, I didn't know whether I could ever make it okay again.
I felt so cold. I got out my cell phone and tried his number, my fingers shaking as I dialed. If he was home… I may as well give him a heads-up that I was coming. Start the conversation now.
But he didn't answer. And I shivered as I realized that he hadn't been calling me. I had taken my cell phone to New York with me, but no new messages, no missed calls had been registered since I left.
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I held my breath as I turned the key in the apartment door lock. But there was no need—the place was as empty as I had left it on Friday. I sat down heavily in the living room, dropping my bag on the couch beside me. Getting out my cell phone, I dialed him again… and heard his ringtone trill loudly from the bedroom.
Stumbling to my feet, I half-ran over there, both afraid and excited that I had just missed him in my initial sweep. But all that sat there was his phone, charging quietly in the outlet by the bed, and I realized there was a small pile of his clothes there too. None of this had been here before I left…. so he had definitely come home, and probably found my note there in the kitchen.
A wave of fear washed over me as I thought about him reading it. What had he thought? What had he done? And most importantly: where did he go?
Anxiously, I shifted from foot to foot, wanting both to see him right now and not see him ever again. Then I looked down at my hands and realized my left hand had closed in a fist, my fingertips pressed firmly against the ring. I remembered what Marian Molitor had said earlier, and felt my determination return. No matter what I needed to do… I had to find a way to be with him again.
Taking a deep breath, I got my laptop out and looked up Zeke's address. Then I grabbed my bag and took off out the door, not looking back.
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Zeke's bakery wasn't far at all—it was a short walk away in the hip Hayes Valley neighborhood, twinkling merrily among the funky houseware stores and clothing boutiques. The canopy was bright red and proudly declared Zeke's name, and the glass window contained a gorgeous selection of pastel-colored cakes.
I pushed the glass-fronted door to go inside and was hit immediately by the wonderful smell of baking. A small lineup was already waiting at the counter for cupcakes and other baked goods. I could see Zeke laughing with one of his employees in the open kitchen. He wore a blue ringer t-shirt behind his white apron and moved with confidence from mixing bowl to mixing bowl.
Then suddenly, his eyes locked on mine and the happiness seemed to drain off his face. I gave a small wave and stepped closer to the counter, and he wiped his hands on a rag and came over to me.
"Hey, Zeke," I said, trying to sound warm.
He nodded. "Hi, Gabi," he said, his voice rather tight. "How was New York?"
Ouch. I guessed I deserved that. "Good," I said, willing my voice to stay bright. "Actually, I just got back, and I'm… looking for Troy." I took a deep breath. "I know he's staying with you. Would you know where he might be right now?"
He shrugged, giving me an innocent smile. "Not really."
His answer was too quick. I knew he knew something. "Look," I said, my voice breaking a little. "I really need to talk to him. I just need to know where he is. It would really help me out if you could just tell me."
"Sorry, Gabi," he said, friendly but unyielding.
"Please, Zeke…"
But he just shrugged again. "I really wish I could help," he said, looking at me without a shred of sympathy.
I stared back, my eyes filling with mad, frustrated tears. "I wish you could too," I choked out, and headed blindly out of the store.
I threw myself onto the bench outside the shop, swiping at my tears with my arm and trying to calm down. Fine. I didn't need Zeke. I could figure this out myself. But as I tried to think of where Troy might go if he was angry, I hit a dead end almost immediately. I wanted to start wailing. We'd just never gotten this mad at each other before.
Then suddenly, I felt someone sit down beside me on the bench. And looking over, there was Zeke. He folded his arms and he wore a grave look on his face. Then he turned to me slowly, as if against his better judgment, and finally nodded his head.
"He's going to kill me for this," he said, a touch of reluctance in his voice, "but I'll tell you where he is."
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Author's Note: Woot—we're getting close! I can't wait to get to the ending actually: I've been thinking about it for days. Okay, now shout outs again to all you lovely reviewers. We hit 15 for the last chapter, which ties our old record of, well, 15. And special thanks to carito06, who put us into triple digits with the 100th review. (I didn't tell you that carito, but there you go :) Can't wait to hear what you all have to say about this one!
