Authors' notes;
Weapons Frayer; I was debating switching A Sky Full Of Stars and Paradise around, but eh, what's the difference?
Laurel Silver; Austria fans, look away now!
[Bad Day, Daniel Powter]
Weeks pass. Gilbert's trial comes and goes, Jones and the choir he preaches to finding the German guilty of a Russian's crimes, and Gilbert is moved away. Elizabeta is like a shell of the woman she is; her eyes are pinned to the floor, her feet drag, and she watches the leaves kicking up with a fake smile, hand clamped around a coffee to go.
Kiku notices the change in her almost immediately. They've been friends a long time, united by a love for obscure, homoerotic literature. Kiku has noticed Elizabeta change as the seasons had, blue skies fading to grey, and all the passion she had for anything has gone away.
"D'you know what you need?" Kiku says as he sits himself down opposite her.
"No hello?" Elizabeta jokes weakly.
"Hello. D'you know what you need?" Kiku repeats. "A holiday."
"I had a holiday in the summer," Elizabeta says.
"You had time off work, yes, but you didn't go anywhere. You need to go somewhere. You need a nice, blue sky holiday."
"I can't get time off again," Elizabeta says, "I just need to get on with my life, like Gilbert said."
"And how are you going to do that?" Kiku asks.
A pause. "I don't know."
"Even if it's just a day out!" Kiku persists, "Somewhere new, just to relax and start afresh. It'll do you wonders!"
"Don't lie." Elizabeta sulks.
"Just try it," Kiku says gently, "And when you make it back, you'll see that you can be that strong, enough to take one down and turn it around."
"I'll think about it," Elizabeta says. She doesn't bother saying goodbye to Kiku as she lets herself into her apartment building.
[A Sky Full of Stars, Coldplay]
Elizabeta dumps her jacket, changing out of one of her few 'nice' shirts into a t-shirt, throwing the singleton's napkin number into the waste basket as she takes off her nice shoes, and she sets about wiping away the makeup and shoving her hair back into a ponytail. For a few days already she's been trying to move on from Gilbert; she's been going on dates. Matchmaking gatherings, speed dating, page six lovers, and nothing has prevailed. She met Gilbert at the bar, a drinking contest. Irony.
Elizabeta flops back onto her bed. She's taken down all Gilbert's posters and crap off the walls, and now the apartment feels plain and dull. Staring up at the crack in the ceiling, she'd first seen it with Gilbert on top of her (and maybe Kiku's right that she needs to get away a while), her eyes grow heavy and close.
It feels like the first time she's had a dream without Gilbert in it. Instead of him, a different man appears, wandering seemingly aimlessly. Elizabeta can only make out brunet hair, and the occasional flash of milky skin as he turns his head about, or he folds hands behind his purple cloaked back. He keeps looking around, up at the sky full of stars, down at the dark ground, around at the empty horizon.
Elizabeta begins to run, trying to catch up with him. The world around her seems to get darker, and the man seems to glow, getting lighter and lighter the more it gets dark.
Almost caught up with him, she reaches out, trying to grab the man. Closer, he's taller than Gilbert, but slim. Glasses perch on his serious face, his clothes are pristine and well tailored, his skin is soft and unblemished save for a mole just off the corner of his lip.
[Paradise, Coldplay]
Elizabeta jolts awake, the room spinning and convulsing around as she gets to grips with her surroundings, the face of the man engraved into her mind's eye. Outside, the night is stormy, and she blatantly blames that for waking her up from her dream escape, for pulling the man away from her reach.
As her alarm begins screaming at her, she calls her boss, saying she's so sorry, but she has a rash on her side and she doesn't know what it is, but she's going to her doctor to get it looked, and she just doesn't want to spread a bug through the workplace so she'll be off work today. Her boss buys it.
Instead of visiting a doctor about her bullshit rash, she drives north east for just over two hours until she reaches Chicago. She remembers Vladimir moved here. She doesn't want to see Vladimir, the smirky Romanian being the last person she wants to see, but she remembers how excited he had been to move to Chicago. It'd be nice to finally find out what the bullet toothed boy had been so hyped up about.
Making like a tourist, she heads to the only Chicago attraction she knows; Millenium Park. The huge, green park is difficult to miss among the suburban paradise. An indie band are setting up instruments within the grand auditorium, tourists take their pictures under Cloud Gate, and children play and squeal in the Crown fountain.
Elizabeta wanders aimlessly through Lurie Garden, careful not to step on the nice flowers growing underfoot. She folds her hands behind her back, gazing around idly, mimicking the man as closely as she can remember.
She freezes at a flash of purple from the corner. There, staring up at a tree, is a brunet man dressed all in purple, hands folded behind him showing long, milky fingers threaded together.
Elizabeta walks up carefully, alarmed. The man continues to stare up at the tree, and as Elizabeta gets closer to him, she can make out the glasses, the pristine condition of the clothes, the mole just off his lips.
"Hello?" she asks.
"Hello," the man answers, turning her head, "Do I know you?"
"Uhm," Elizabeta stammers.
"I feel like we've met before," the man says, frowning slightly, "It'll come back to me. Roderich Edelstein." he extends a hand towards her.
"Elizabeta Hedervary," Elizabeta takes the hand, shaking it in a friendly way.
"Charmed," and Elizabeta blushes as he kisses the back of her fingers. "Your hands feel very calloused, my dear."
"Oh, I work in a factory," Elizabeta explains breathlessly, "We make frying pans."
"The wheel breaks the butterfly," Roderich says sadly.
"I beg your pardon?" Elizabeta asks, pulling her hand away.
"I just think it's such a shame that pretty girls are forced to work like men."
"I wasn't forced to do anything!" Elizabeta snaps, "Yes, I do manual labour, but I get a decent wage of my own and don't need to depend on a man, and I like that! So what if my hand are a little calloused? Just makes it hurt more when I slap entitled men right across the face!"
"Well, that's just rude," Roderich scolds, "You shouldn't go slapping people; it unladylike!"
"Do I look I give a shit about 'ladylike'?!" Elizabeta shouts.
Roderich doesn't answer, and after glaring at him for several seconds, she storms back to her car.
End notes;
Weapon Frayer; I just realized this, but the story is basically a reverse American Idiot.
Yes, I know I used most of the songs from the album! But does it matter?
Laurel Silver; turned Roderich into a bit of a misogynist here. Sorry Austria fans!
Most of the attractions in Millennium Park weren't built until the Millennium change, so wouldn't even have been thought of in 1980. Just another example of time being wrong.
We own nothing