Epilogue
'I swear you always have the rose flavoured ones, Ib,' Garry teased as Ib selected the pink macaroon with the fluffy white stuffing yet again.
'Well they're my favourite,' Ib replied swiftly, cherishing her macaroon.
'I had gathered that,' Garry said with a laugh and Ib smiled back, 'One cappuccino and one white mocha, please,' he ordered at the till. Ib started to open her mouth to say something but suddenly he added, 'With added caramel for the mocha, please.'
'You remembered this time,' Ib pointed out, smiling widely at him.
'Well it's been two months; I would be rather surprised if I didn't remember!'
'Could be your memory going haywire. They say that happens with age...' Ib suggested with a shrug and a hidden smile.
'My memory is perfectly fine thank you! I'm not that old—' Garry paused for a moment, then exclaimed, 'You know my age is my weakness, Ib!' Problem was, he couldn't say anything negative; not when she was laughing like she was now.
'If I was anybody else you'd still be ranting,' Ib pointed out, raising her eyebrows.
'Ah, but you're not anybody else, Ib,' Garry responded with a sweet smile. The girl blushed slightly, then suddenly became serious, 'How much is the mocha again?' She asked, rummaging in her school bag for her purse.
'No, no, no, no, no, don't you dare, Ib! I'm paying!' He intervened, placing an arm on her hand to stop her and handing the cash before she could do anything. Ib sighed, slightly exasperated.
'You pay every time!' She protested weakly as they walked away to a table with their drinks.
'Well I can't possibly let you pay; I have a salary, you only have your pocket money to rely on,' Garry said calmly.
'But Garry, you work for that! I don't!' Ib countered, a frown on her face, 'You can't pay for me every time, I'll make you broke!'
'Ib, two drinks and macaroons a day will hardly render me broke,' He reminded with a smile, 'And besides you do work for your pocket money; you said you did chores.' It was Ib's turn to laugh.
'Garry,' She started with a smile on her face, 'You have to deal with a jabbering lot of teenagers. I empty the dishwasher; the levels of tolerance required for both have quite a contrast.'
'Just eat your macaroon, Ib,' Garry scowled slightly; why was she so damn intelligent?
'Look Garry, what I'm saying is... you don't have to be such a gentleman! I'm not nine anymore.' She said with complete sincerity, and then added with a smile, 'I'm all grown up.'
'All grown up at thirteen? Hardly,' Garry teased, his scowl dropping.
'Thirteen and eleven months!' Ib reminded, with a playful glare.
'That's still thirteen; you don't get to be all grown up yet,' Garry pointed out, munching on his coconut-flavoured macaroon.
'Fine, you win,' Ib sighed, 'But I'm still paying next time, Garry. Mark my words.'
'Ib,' Garry sighed. 'Just... think of it as my... my job to pay for you,' He shook his head with a light smile, 'I can't believe you're complaining about receiving free food,' He muttered.
'Your job? I thought your job was being an art teacher,' Ib challenged, eyes sparkling. Then, her smile dropped, and she whispered, 'Or at least, for the time being.' The last part reminded them both that Garry's post was only temporary.
'Yes... about that,' Garry stopped slightly. How would she react? He hoped that she would be okay with it. He sighed as he pushed his chair closed to Ib's. 'Well... the head teacher asked me to go to his office after lunch...' Ib looked at him, slightly puzzled and simply wondering where this was going. 'He... he told me that Mrs. Clef had finished her maternity leave...' Ib started to widen her eyes in understanding, 'And wanted her job back.'
'Garry!' Ib exclaimed, tears threatening to spill over her water-filled eyes, 'You can't leave! How could they do this to you?'
'I was only a substitute teacher—'
'But everybody hates Mrs. Clef and they all love you!' Ib protested.
'Well, you guessed the news,' Garry said with a wry smile. A tear rolled down Ib's cheek as she sniffed a little, rubbing her nose. 'Oh, no Ib, please don't cry.' He pleaded, stroking away the tear on her cheek and holding her hand, squeezing it once in a while.
Just then, a sweet lullaby rang out and Garry jumped away.
'Oh, sorry,' Ib apologised with a sniff, 'That's my phone.' She pressed a button and brought it to her ear, 'Oh, hi Mum ... ... No I'm not crying. Really, I'm not, don't get so worried ... ... What, now? Oh, okay. I'll be right there ... ... I'm okay ... ... Yeah, I'm sure ... ... Love you too.' Ib hung up and stared at Garry, tears filling up her ruby eyes. It broke his heart.
'You have to go, don't you?' Garry asked quietly. Ib nodded, evidently not trusting her voice. She picked up her bags slowly and he walked with her to the door of the café. Garry crouched down so that their eyes were at the same height and took her hands. The position was killing his back, but he didn't even notice.
'I don't want to go, Garry,' Ib whispered, her walls crashing down to reveal her fragile heart.
'Oh, Ib, but you have to,' He told her, squeezing her hands, 'What we want and what we need are two very different things, Ib.'
'How very philosophical of you,' She replied with a wobbly smile, wiping her eyes. Garry laughed softly.
'There's the Ib I know,' He put a hand under her chin and lifted it up gently, 'Chin up, Ib. You're going to do great. I know it.' He squeezed her shoulder and whispered in her ear, 'We will see each other again. I promise.'
Acting on impulse, Ib took out her handkerchief and put it in Garry's pocket.
'Now you'll have to give it back to me,' Ib said resolutely. Garry smiled as best as he could and nodded, desperately trying not to cry. He couldn't do that. Not in front of Ib. He gathered her into his arms and hugged her hard. His will power vanished and the tears ran down his face.
'Goodbye, Ib.'
AN: Okay don't kill me please /hides behind pillow/ Personally I've always thought that sadder endings have more impact which is why I decided to write it like that - I did write an alternative epilogue though which is much fluffier/happier and I'll post that sometime tomorrow.
