FINDING FRANKENSTEIN
Chapter 5: Avoidance
Avoiding someone who happens to share a two-bedroom flat with you may sound like a tall order, but Buffy was determined. While it was true that she did not have so many places to hide within the flat, she had plenty of possible refuges outside the flat. From the moment she closed her bedroom door, she determined to shut Anthony out as much as possible.
"Buffy, come out," he pleaded, the next morning. She could see the shadow his figure cast beneath the door and she closed her eyes, trying not to imagine the expression on his face. "We need to talk," he continued. "You can't hide in there forever. Look, I'm sorry. I know I made a mistake but I don't understand what I did wrong or why you ran away. Please, Buffy. You need to talk to me."
She was all too aware of how similar their positions were to Badiyah and Edward, after Badiyah's "rescue." She desperately tried to forget about the intensity of emotion Anthony's eyes held or the uncomfortable pangs of feeling it stirred in her own treacherous heart. She would give anything to forget his words, forget the night before. She couldn't face him. She couldn't erase him. She needed to block him out and make him go away, the only way she could.
She turned up the volume on her headphones and refused to answer him. Eventually, the knocking and flow of words stopped. It took far longer for the shifting shadow to disappear from her doorway. It wasn't until she felt the flat shake with the slamming of the front door that she ventured out of her room. She moved as quickly as she could through the kitchen. She carried her toast with her out the door and she ran outside with a wary glance behind her.
It didn't take much to get her old job back at the theatre. Her superior did not so much as bat an eye when she begged for as many hours as possible. He simply wrote her name all over a copy of the schedule and handed her a set of keys.
Her next stop saw her enroll in three extra dance classes and an additional cooking class. Satisfied that her evenings would be mostly filled, she called a familiar voice on her mobile.
"Michael… what are you doing tonight?"
"Ummm, playing video games with my mates."
"Can I come?"
"I guess."
Buffy would rather spend six hours learning to play video games than face Anthony. She would rather go out with Michael every night than see Anthony. She inhaled deeply, realizing for the first time that the rain had finally stopped. Curiously, she peeked up at the break in the clouds overhead and watched in awe as a brilliant ray of sunshine broke through and bathed the grey bricks and cobblestones around her in unfamiliar light.
Oooooo
It took Anthony nearly two weeks to corner her. With each day that passed, she quelled the growing sense of guilt over her abandonment of her protégé with a surge of self-protective fury. Never before had she been so active in the outside world or so involved in the lives of her human companions. Yet, the driving sense of fear kept her as far from her flat as she could manage and made her avoid her old refuge as if a blood-thirsty vampire truly did dwell there. Yet, not even Buffy could avoid her home forever.
Unfortunately, she needed to check the mail and grab some paperwork from her room one day. So, against her wishes, she crept into the flat at the break of dawn one day. She hoped he would be asleep. She opened the door as quietly as she could and held her breath when she realized Anthony was laid out on the couch, his red-rimmed eyes watching her tip-toe through the room.
Knowing she was well and truly caught, she dropped her purse on the floor with a disgruntled sigh and glared at him. Well, she tried to glare at him, but the expression she found on his face sapped her of her anger faster than a leak in a helium balloon. Dark shadows under his eyes and the pallor of his complexion made him look more like Edward than he had ever done before. Yet, it was the nearly frantic desperation in his eyes as he sat up that made her freeze in place.
"You are ok," he burst out, standing to his feet so he could take her in. "Oh, thank God. You are ok. Buffy, I thought something happened to you."
She shrugged. "I'm fine."
"You never answered my calls… or my texts… you never came home."
She swallowed visibly and took a step back so her hand could grasp the wall behind her. She had received them. Over a hundred missed calls. Three texts a day. Even a dozen hand-written notes hidden in the mailbox. All remained unanswered.
Once he assessed that she was alive and breathing and, in truth, avoiding him, he deflated, and his shoulders drooped like a tree branch heavy laden with snow.
"Buffy, I'm sorry. I'm sorry for whatever I said or did. Tell me what it is and how I can fix it. Please."
She opened her mouth but for the life of her couldn't figure out how to answer. She felt trapped and this made her angry. She preferred anger to vulnerability so let the emotion overwhelm all the others fighting for her attention. She stood upright and threw her shoulders back so she could be as tall as possible. Then, she leveled him with a furious glare.
"You tried to tell me what to do and how to live my life. It's not your place to tell me who I can date or what I can do. You want more out of this relationship than I can give you."
"I'm sorry. I didn't know it would make you freak out like that. I thought you knew."
"I didn't freak out."
He snorted and sat on the edge of the couch, his head heavy in his hands. "You fled like a mouse before a cat."
"Did not."
"Prove it. Come home."
"You know this was never meant to be a permanent arrangement," she countered. "I was supposed to help you adjust so you can live your own life. Once you are able to take care of yourself, you get your own place and move out."
"Is that what you want?" he asked, the question laced with such a fragile edge of vulnerability that she almost shrank back from the guilt that stirred in her. Instead, she nodded.
"Yes."
"Fine. I will. You don't need to run away from your own flat because I'm in it. If I'm a problem for you, then I'll go."
She bent down to retrieve her fallen purse and fled to her room, without looking back. Once the door was closed behind her, she leaned her back against the comforting presence of the door and she closed her eyes.
The thought of her flat empty, like it had been before, danced through her imagination. She remembered what life was like before Anthony was there, the long days and nights where it was only Buffy and she could do as she liked, and she tried to tell herself it was better. She tried to convince herself she was relieved he would go and that she could wash her hands of him without remorse.
She knew she lied.
Oooooo
Buffy had to admit she was impressed. True to his word, within three days, Anthony Edward Masen was gone.
"What do you mean you found a place?" she asked, skeptically when he told her.
"Just as it sounds. One of my mates from the pub has a spare room."
"You do realize you have to pay rent and that requires a job, right?"
He rolled his eyes. "I know you think I'm an idiot, but I am at least intelligent enough to figure that out myself."
She crossed her arms over her chest and dared him to explain.
"I picked up a job at the hospital," he explained.
"Doing what?"
"Whatever they need," he said with a shrug. "They need someone to change sheets and mop floors and carry heavy loads around the facility."
"And they hired you?"
"On the spot," he said with a wide, self-satisfied grin. "I start tomorrow. I guess they were desperate."
She gaped – until she realized she was gaping- and then she tried to mask over her reaction with indifference. She gave an uncomfortable glance around the flat. Catching her expression, his cocky smile fell.
"I don't need anything," he said, once again uncannily reading her thoughts from her face.
"Don't be ridiculous. You are going to need some of the basics to get yourself started…"
"Don't worry, Mum. I've got it. My room is furnished. I have already packed my clothes and books. Anything else I need can wait until my salary comes," he said. He pulled off his cap to run hand through his hair and his eyes were both earnest and teasing.
"So, you are really going then?" she asked, suddenly overwhelmed by the reality of it. She had wanted him to go. She had pushed him to leave, but now she felt he wasn't really ready. She felt all the more her own impulsive decision to kick him out of the nest before his wings were fully grown and she chided herself for her selfishness.
"As you said, this was never meant to be forever," he said. "It's time, I think. Oh, look at you fret over me!" He laughed and ran his thumb over the furrow between her eyebrows. "Don't worry," he said and he placed a quick kiss on her forehead.
"Will you… ummm…. Will you visit?" she asked.
"Do you want me to?" he asked, watching her reaction carefully.
"Yeah. Of course."
"I wasn't sure… I don't want to make you feel uncomfortable…"
"No, no. You should visit. It's only right. I mean, you still need tips on how to survive out there."
He barked a laugh. "Whatever you say, Mum."
"And I need someone to test my recipes. Thursdays, you know. Those dinners won't eat themselves."
"I can't leave you with those mountains of food all to yourself."
"You'll come then?"
"As long as I am welcome."
She nodded her head in approval and watched as he picked up a suitcase from the hall. When he reached the front door, he paused with his hand on the knob. He didn't look back, but over his shoulder, he called to her.
"Thank you, Buffy. For everything. If there is ever anything I can do for you, anything you need, let me know."
Oooooo
Buffy put on a movie and turned the lights down low. The bowl of popcorn in her lap was still hot and she settled in to enjoy herself. She told herself she loved the quiet. She had the entire couch to herself and she didn't have to cower in one corner, avoiding the familiar warmth of another figure nearby. She didn't have to share her popcorn or worry when someone didn't come home at the stated time. No one's phone interrupted her reveries and no dirty dishes waited for her to grouse over. Best of all, she didn't have to keep going out with Michael. She tolerated him well enough when she knew he would irritate Anthony, but now that there was no Anthony to come home to, she found she would much rather not see Michael, either.
She found herself checking her phone more often than she really needed to, seeking for texts that never came.
Could he really be ok without her? She expected him to call her constantly, inquiring into how to survive his daily life in the Wild on a continual basis. Yet, he never did. Well, he did send her a text or two, but those involved a musician he saw at the park and a photograph of a sunset he found particularly beautiful. He also let her know, with expressions of regret, that he was scheduled to work on Thursday nights.
She could have told him to come on Wednesdays instead. She didn't.
Oooooo
It was a month before she saw him again. It was a bit of a surprise, for both of them, when their paths finally crossed. It was a Friday night and she was sweeping up the foyer of the theatre when she heard boisterous laughter. She looked up to see a gaggle of young men, loudly joking with each other, tickets held out in their hands as they reached the entrance to the theatre.
In the midst of them, as if he belonged, as if he was entirely at ease with himself and his surroundings, was Anthony. He had grown out his beard to a well-tended goatee. His hair was neatly combed to one side and he wore a collared shirt and well-fitting jeans. His eyes were alive with humor and he did not faulter when addressed by his companions.
He didn't see her. He walked right past her without noticing her in the shadows, hidden behind a movie poster and a broom, but she was left reeling.
How could he forget her so easily? How could he move on without looking back or fit in without a struggle? She was sure she never looked anywhere near so confident in the presence of her friends. Jealousy prickled -both for his attention and for his acceptance in his human sphere. With greater vehemence, she took out her anger on the bits of popcorn and dust beneath her broom and she furiously swept the glistening tiles clean.
Two hours later, she was startled from emptying garbage bins by a familiar exclamation of her name and a pair of arms encircling her waist.
"Buffy!" Anthony cried out. He swung her around in a circle before setting her down and looking her over from head-to-toe. He graced her with such an expression of delight that she couldn't help but smile back and revel in his warm reception.
"You've grown taller!" she exclaimed, in surprise.
He chuckled. "Nah, you're just shrinking." At her feigned irritation, he patted the top of her head. "Do you work here?" he asked, surprise in his tone.
"Every weekend," she answered. "Free movies, you know?"
He grinned. "That sounds like you."
"How are you?" she asked. "How is your new place working out?"
"Oh, it's been great! All of it! The only downside is I don't get to see you!" He said, not bothering to hide his emotion. She glanced over to see his companions watching them, knowing grins on their faces and she grew uncomfortable. Anthony quickly stepped away, putting more distance between them, and he motioned for his friends to come and meet her. He introduced them each in turn and she did her best to feign more confidence than she felt.
She thought about asking to meet up with him, to find out more of how he was doing, but she didn't. She thought that if he asked, she would agree. He didn't. Instead, noting how she clung to her broom and how his companions looked towards the door, he gave her a final squeeze on the shoulder and turned to leave.
"I'm glad to see you, Buffy. Take care of yourself," he said. Then, he was gone.
Oooooo
The following Friday, she was behind the counter selling sweets and popcorn to theatre-goers when a familiar face tossed down some coins and asked for popcorn. She looked up to see Anthony's wide, so familiar smile.
"You're back!" she said, taking the money from him and filling his bag with fresh popcorn.
He winked at her. "There's a movie I just had to see," he said.
She watched him go, searching the crowd for his companions. He did not join with any others but slipped into a theatre on his own.
Thus began a new sort of ritual. Every Friday, without fail, Anthony turned up at the theatre and invariably sought her out. He claimed it was due to his love of cinema and overly-buttered, atrociously salty popcorn. Buffy refused to admit that she paid extra attention to her hair and makeup on Fridays or that her heart beat a little faster when she saw that familiar mop of auburn hair standing above the crowd.
Their exchanges were brief and hardly covered more than the weather or their assessments of recent movies, but it was enough.
Oooooo
It was a brilliant summer day when she crossed paths with Anthony again. It had been a particularly poor day in her cooking class and she was feeling discouraged. In addition, she had been insulted by a disgruntled theatre patron the night before and then a friend failed to meet her for dinner. Overall, she was in a foul temper. There was one place which she knew would make her feel better and so she didn't have to think twice about it.
It was somewhere near the Rosetta Stone that she saw a familiar set of shoulders staring at a display.
"Anthony?" she asked, placing on hand on his shoulder.
He swung around in surprise and then flashed her with a crooked smile.
"Hey!"
"Hey yourself." He glanced around the hall. "Are you here alone?"
She nodded. "You?"
"Yes. I had an assignment for a class."
"A class?" she asked in surprise.
"Yes, ma'am. I need to complete the prerequisite classes before I can join university. You can say I have a lot to catch up on."
"University? Really?" she asked, not hiding her surprise.
He blushed slightly and nodded. "Eventually. Not anytime soon, you know. I have a lot to do, first, but eventually."
"Wow! So you are taking classes?"
"I am. Mostly during the day since the hospital has me working nights, now."
"What do you want to study?"
"Medicine," he said, carefully watching her reaction. "I guess you can say that working at the hospital has inspired me. I want to do more than mop floors. Someday, I want to really help people."
"I gotta admit, I'm impressed," she said. "My little Baby Fangs is all grown up!"
His smile faltered slightly but then he recovered. "Rough day?" He asked.
"How could you tell?"
"You always come here when you've had a particularly trying day."
She shrugged. "I suppose nothing makes me feel better than a hall of mummified Egyptians who had all their internal organs sucked out of their body and then cast into the desert."
He chuckled under his breath and pulled her in to kiss the top of her head. "I'm sorry you had a rough day. Want to tell me about it?"
"Just stupid stuff."
"I'm sure it's not stupid."
She gave a self-deprecating smile and looked away. "Where are you headed?"
"Oh, I've finished. I was about to head out… Can I… if you are all done here… can I take you out to dinner?"
"Food always makes me feel better."
"I know."
"Fine," she said. "Let's go."
Ooooo
Buffy smiled to herself when she got the text that night. Anthony sent her a picture of himself making a silly face followed by an exhortation to remember to smile more. She laughed and texted him back a picture of her latest attempt at a German Chocolate Cake.
"When do I get to taste it?" he responded.
"Tomorrow, if you want."
"All the traffic in London won't keep me away," he answered.
She laughed and licked the frosting from her fingers. It wasn't as thick as she hoped and so she read through her recipe again.
It wasn't the first time Anthony came to try her latest recipe. Since their dinner after the museum, they had fallen into a tentative truce, of sorts. He began to ask to take her out after her Friday night shifts at the theatre and she cautiously agreed, but only after setting out her expectations as clearly as she could.
"These aren't dates," she said. "I'm not agreeing to date you. We are going out as friends."
"I know," he said.
"Why, then? Why do you want to see me?"
"Do I need a reason?"
"Yes."
"Buffy, I think you know it. You and me… we aren't like anybody else. I need to know where I came from. You know. I guess you can say you are the closest I have to family. You are important."
"I understand."
"I know it's hard for you to talk about, well, him. I'm not asking you to, if you don't want to. Let's go out, have some larks, talk about nothing of importance at all, and then be off home again. That's all I'm asking. If you want to talk about more, I'll listen, but you don't have to."
She nodded her head. "Fine."
They only went out once or twice a month, but it became a predictable, familiar part of her life. Anthony was incredibly busy, but she knew she would see him Fridays at the theatre and she could count on him to text her throughout the week, sharing silly messages and inquiring about her latest experiments in the kitchen. She finally decided to invite him over to the flat for dinner again, once his schedule allowed him to come on a Thursday with a handful of her other friends. He invited her to go bowling with his friends. To her surprise, she found she liked them.
She had never turned his old room into anything else. She hadn't even turned it back into a junk room. She left it as it had been the day he left and she hadn't once stepped into it. She still slept with her door locked. She never brought up anything more about Edward.
Oooooo
It was late Christmas Eve and snow flurries drifted over sidewalk around her. Holiday lights blinked from the storefronts she passed, all aggravating cheer and despicable reminders of happiness around her. She pulled her coat around her tighter and shivered. It had been a busy night at the theatre, but she had volunteered to work the holidays, since she had nothing else to do. She carried a bag of takeout in one hand and her purse in the other, preparing herself for her empty, silent flat. She was surprised when she found something waiting for her, just outside her door.
She knelt to the ground to find a bouquet of red roses in a vase. She picked up the package next to it and unwrapped it. A Christmas-themed horror movie emerged and she laughed out loud. There was no card and no evidence of who brought it. She didn't need any. She knew. She pulled out her phone.
"Hey," Anthony answered, slightly breathlessly.
"Hey."
The line was silent for a moment.
"What are you doing?" Buffy asked, biting back her smile.
"Nothing."
"Then why are you outta breath?"
"I'm walking…. But it's cold… so I'm walking fast."
"Where?"
"Nowhere. Just around."
"Can I join you?"
"If you want."
She placed the gift and her dinner inside her flat, grabbed her scarf and hat, and ran out the door again. She met Anthony at the park, his nose red from the cold and clouds of breath swirling around his face each time he exhaled.
"Hey," she said, suddenly shy.
"Hey yourself," he answered. Then he threw his arms around her and placed a kiss on the top of her head.
"Thanks," she whispered, from her place in his embrace.
"You are welcome," he answered.
They walked around London, then, until their feet ached, and it grew so cold, they could feel it in their bones. Still, each could tell the other was reluctant to part.
"I have take-out," Buffy began, as they neared the street where she lived. "Are you… it would be a shame to watch that movie by myself. Do you want to come over?"
"I'd love to," he said.
They returned to Buffy's flat and began a movie marathon, watching Christmas destroyed in every possible bloody way. They both fell asleep there, on the couch, covered in popcorn, the credits for the film rolling in the background.
Author's Note: Well, here we go. This will probably only have two or three more chapters to go.
