Chapter Twenty-Two (Who's Got The Malt-o-meal?)
AUTHOR'S NOTE: WHEN HAROLD WAS 'DRUGGED' BY THAT EVIL, EVIL BLONDE WITCH, JORDAN HESTOR (WHOM I LOVE DEARLY FOR GIVING US A PICTURE OF FINCH AT HIS BEST, BUT DON'T TELL HIM I SAID SO, ESPECIALLY WHEN HE WAS 'DANCING' TO SOME IMAGINARY MUSIC IN HIS HEAD)..WHICH I AM CERTAIN, WAS EITHER 'MY GIRL' BY THE TEMPTS OR 'IN THE SUMMERTIME' BY MONGO JERRY. THIS IS MY HOMAGE TO THAT DELICIOUS MOMENT….
Harold Finch was unnerved..not nervous, of course. Nothing ever rattled the man's determined 'control' but..yes. Definitely unnerved.
He cleared his throat gently, knocking on the door facing again.
He waited, dreading the confrontation. Women could be so unreasonably emotional at times.
He far preferred the male specie, who reacted in just the manner they should to any given stimuli.
Men were either reasonable or brutish..civilized or uncivilized. There were no grey shades to a male's emotional responses.
Harold could deal with males easily. For a split second, he deeply resented John Reese for ever pushing him into this extreme predicament.
From inside the apartment, a very feminine voice could be heard singing rather loudly.. Finch thought he recognized the song..for a brief moment until, the lyrics all went awry.
'I Got Sunshine.. On a cloudy day..
'When it's cold outside…I got the malt-o-meal….'
Cordelia abruptly opened the door, the green eyes wide and..expectant.
He had not heard one lock or chain being unbolted..the idiot had forgotten to lock her door.
His first instinct was to chastise..severely but.. he settled for a sedate.
"I believe the song goes.. 'When it's cold outside..'I got the month of May.'"
The emerald eyes stared at him. He noted they were slightly..glazed over.
"You aren't the pizza guy!" she snapped her belief, slamming the door with a decided..thud.
Harold stood, glancing about the closed entrance then, back down the empty corridor.
Case in point. An emotional response he had not expected.
For a second, he pondered whether to simply turn about and make his way back to a patiently waiting John Reese, who was double parked. Finch knew the man had no intention of even trying to locate an unused parking space even though Reese had promised faithfully to do so.
On impulse..Harold tried the handle of the door. It clicked open.
His ire resurfaced and he threw caution to the wind, entering the apartment, readying himself to do battle.
Of all the stupid behavior! Even were the danger passed, of which SHE certainly had no knowledge..to leave a door unlocked in this city was just inviting trouble.
He had no qualms about telling Ms. 'High and Mighty Stupid' just that!
He stopped directly inside the small foyer, getting his bearings. From the small kitchenette to his left, came the rather melodic refrain, the continuing saga of 'My Girl' sung to the odd specifications of one, Cordelia Fellows.
'I got soooooo much honey the bees don't even sting me..'
'I got a sweeter song than you'll ever be.'
'I guess..you..say (she spread peanut butter on her bread, swaying rather provocatively to the song in her head)
'something, something..my way.'
'My Girl..my girl, my girl ..talkin bout..my girl..my girl. (she did the back up singer part as well. One could not say she was not talented in that aspect, Finch had to give her that.)
Harold tried to ignore the obvious, concentrating on his surroundings. He could see directly before him, a large double window, the night skyline of the city dimly seen through thick lace curtains that were partially pulled.
'I don't need no money, fountains or flames..'
'I got all the bitches, baby..one man can claim.'
Harold's eyes narrowed, and he shook his head. How could anyone murder the lyrics of such a popular song?
He determined to let it go..to rise above it all.
Dark blue panels hung sedately from ornate hooks. Before the window was a small desk, cluttered with unopened mail and advertisements. A pink lap top was shut next to a typing stand, on which a notebook rested, opened and marked with red correction circles.
The room was not overly spacious but adequate for one person, he imagined. In the middle of the room, sat a demure baby blue sofa with cheerfully striped blue and white throw pillows. One frilly lace heart-shaped cushion sat carefully askew, to complete the neatly arranged space.
"I don't know why it should surprise me that you barge right into a person's home." Cordelia had stopped killing the song, at least. She held a wine glass in her free hand, the liquid sloshing dangerously close to the rim as she gestured in her speech patterns.
Finch noted a vivid red stain over by the refrigerator on the sparkling white tile of the floor. He also noted the uncorked wine bottle next to him on the bar.
"You spy on everyone anyway..why not just come on in." the wine went flying, splattering the front of the unused stove.
She sat her glass down on the faux marble counter, returning to her pastime. She licked peanut butter off her index finger, struggling with the new jar of strawberry jam.
"..I..eh.." Finch stepped, taking the jar, opening it automatically, handing it back. He pondered Cordelia's..condition. The woman had obviously been partaking. "thought you might sign my copy." He held up his newly purchased first print.
Cordelia lifted cool eyes. "I don't even THINK so!" she pointed a butter knife at him to which a glob of peanut butter still clung. "You want my autograph? Yeah..Sure…Right!" she disdained. "What was your considered opinion of my last effort again? Let us recall, shall we? I believe you said my efforts were mundane at best..verging on pathetic..a pretentious outing, with little character depth, no plot what-so-ever..and enough angst to fill the gap in the Grand Canyon."
Finch scowled. Had he said..that?
"I'll sign your stupid book! When the cows come flying home, Mr. 'I Am Soooo Well-Read And YOU Can't Write Worth A Crap' Finch!"
He lay the novel aside on the counter. "Good thing I did not stand in line, then..isn't it." He turned a direct stare on her.
"Did you see the pizza guy in the hall..did you run him off?" she accused heatedly.
"God forbid I should disrupt your culinary repast."
"So's your mother!" she disgusted, going back to her sandwich making. "If you even HAD a mother!"
"I thought we had gone over that ground before."
She turned about, snubbing him completely, taking her sandwich with her. She returned for her glass of wine.
"Ohh, that's right. You were a product of some weird Druid ceremony."
"I see..you can recall that tidbit of information but none of the correct words to a Temptation song."
"I have no idea..of what you speak!" he was duly snubbed yet again.
She was wearing another tee. Finch thought it might conceivably match the color in the sofa. It was form fitting. She wore no bra, the small breasts molded to perfection by the soft cotton fabric. She was chilled. Harold pulled his eyes from the stiff little nipples.
He felt his instrument twinge with..sympathetic inklings. He chastised it sternly.
The darker sweat pants looked just as soft and inviting, clinging to the shapely hips, and firm buttocks lovingly.
She had a couple of red stains on the bottom of the tee and a few dots down one leg of the pants from the carelessly mishandled wine glass, but..Finch did not think they detracted from the effect of the ensemble in the least.
He drew his eyes from the sensual little bottom with difficulty, sighing wearily. "Are you hungry? Perhaps we could go out for a bite. If you wish." Anything to get him out of this damnable situation.
"No, I am not hungry." She took a bite of her sandwich, chewing ..hungrily. "Nor would I go out with you if you were the last Morlock on the planet because that's all we are, you know." She swallowed, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. "Eloi and Morlocks, according to Millie. That's all we are or ever shall be!"
"He sends his regards, by the way." Finch didn't even attempt to figure that statement out. "I can arrange for you to fly out to meet him if you would like."
The wind seemed to go from the girl's sails. She put her sandwich down..staring at the man, her expression a sad one. "..Millie?" Her glass teetered precariously in her hand. Finch stepped hastily, retrieving it.
"He seems to be adjusting well to his new environment and is asking of you." Harold nodded.
Cordelia seemed about to weep in Finch's opinion. "..I thought news of your friend might cheer you."
But..it had not.
"I..miss him." The girl spoke softly. "I wish he were here."
"It is truly better for Mr. Miller..at his present location. He is productively employed at a job at which he excels and appears to enjoy." Harold continued.
She nodded absently, arising, returning to the kitchen and the forgotten wine bottle. She stared at it longingly, her fingers playing with the smooth surface of the glass.
"I don't care." She announced with a finality he did not like, grabbing the bottle neck, taking it into the living room. She sought her glass, but Harold had discretely put it behind his back, held securely in one hand. "I don't need him and I don't need Davy. I'm just fine without them." She informed him haughtily. "I'm..ok!"
"Are we letting it 'breathe'?" he motioned to the opened bottle.
Cordelia checked on his meaning. Holding up the bottle. "Ohh..yes." she didn't know anything about wine only that this bottle was red. "That's what we are doing. It's what one does with wine, isn't it. We give it lots of air." She breathed in deeply, to illustrate the fact.
"..Decidedly." Finch tempered his reaction to the statement..just. He suddenly remembered he had not come here alone, reaching into his vest pocket, extracting his cell. "Excuse me." He was ever polite, turning slightly aside. "I have to make this call." He waited for Reese to pick up.
Cordelia looked about for a place of safety to sit her bottle, which she cradled most lovingly to her breast, but more importantly, she looked for her wine glass which was held securely in Finch's other hand now, the one she could not see.
The woman was somewhat mystified as to how her glass simply..disappeared then she remembered, she must have left it in the kitchen, traipsing off in search of the holy grail, happily humming…'Follow The Yellow Brick Road' from the Wizard of Oz.
Finch was pleased she didn't seem to know any of the words to that one.
"Mr. Reese? I just wanted to inform yo.."
"OH!" Cordelia was back in a flash, lividly wiggling her fingers. "Are you speaking to that..stupid, STUPID man?" she got right up into Finch's space. "You just give me that phone this instant! I have a thing or two to say to your..Mr. 'Two-Faced' Johnathan Reese!"
Finch..handed over the cell, curious as to the source of her mood change, certainly but more so..as to how John would take a slightly inebriated Cordelia Fellows.
"You stupid, STUPID man! Do you think I do not know what you are about?!" Cordelia Fellows asked plaintively.
Finch sighed, reaching. He turned the cell right-side up, but it was clear Reese had heard the slightly garbled accusation for he replied most civilly.
"Hello, Ms. Fellows. Did Mr. Finch get you to sign his copy of your latest.."
"Don't you EVEN change the subject!" Cordelia paced the small space in a vain attempt to vent her ire. "You stupid, STUPID man, you! I KNOW why Davy hasn't called or come by to check on me for three whole weeks now..it's because YOU have been monopo.." she stopped abruptly, the word sounding..odd to her ears. "Mono.." she covered the cell, whispering her dilemma to Harold. "..What is that word that sounds like Monopoly but isn't?"
"Monopolizing." Finch felt like taking a belt of the wine.
"It's because you have been monopoly-izing her entire life, but I don't care!" Reese was assured in no uncertain terms. "I don't need her or Millie or you what-so-ever! So don't even GO there thinking I do!" She started to hand the cell back to it's rightful owner but another thought struck her. "You stupid, STUPID man and don't you go thinking that you having saved my life makes up for the horribly..AWFUL things you've done to me since! Because..it DOESN'T!" she thrust the cell back angrily.
Finch took the phone, his expression resigned. He addressed his friend with but one lethal glare in Cordelia's direction but she had gone back to searching for her wine glass which was now clearly visible in the man's left hand, dangling down by his side.
"..I will get a taxi, John. You needn't wait and..thank you for.." he watched the woman search fruitlessly about the apartment. "Well..you know."
Cordelia turned, grimacing her distaste. "Oh, as if I care about your little secret 'code thingies'." She quoted with her fingers. She threw up her hands, stomping off to the bedroom. "NO ONE CARES ABOUT YOUR LITTLE 'CODE THINGIES'..TRUST ME!" she yelled over her shoulder, quoting once again, with her fingers.
"..John." Finch didn't know whether to apologize or call for back up but then..he did. "…Please stop laughing, Mr. Reese." He sighed heavily. "One idiot is all I can handle right now. As you can see, Cordelia is genuinely upset. I don't think it wise she be left alone at this stage."
"I am in total agreement." Reese curbed his need to laugh in Harold's face. "but what do I know..I'm just a stupid, STUPID man."
"Go home, Mr. Reese." Finch could see he would get no support on that end, hanging up the cell. He waited for a bit, removing his coat, setting the wine aside on the bar to do so. He looked for a place to hang his outer wear but the tiny closet in the foyer had no extra hangers. Cordelia's coat, the one he had purchased for her, was the only article within, actually.
He lay the long black garment over the bar, taking the wine glass to the sink, emptying the contents, rinsing it then placing it in the dishwasher. The cabinet to his right was half open so he automatically went to shut the door.
Inside he could see very few articles. Opening the latter produced a better view of two cans of spaghettios, one ramen soup package and some cheerios. He was curious, so..he opened the refrig.
A half eaten snicker bar, two cans of diet coke and two pats of butter on a white plate.
Finch..shut the door. He thought he had waited a respectable time but Cordelia had not made an appearance.
He walked to the half closed door to the bedroom, calling out, for he had no idea where she might be within the confides of the yet, unseen room. "Cordelia, please come out."
"I don't have to 'come out'..YOU have to 'go away' because..this is MY apartment, not your's. This is one thing you do NOT own." She sounded rather smug for all of two seconds. "…Do you?" her tone suggested..doubt.
"I have your ring." Finch tried again. He dug the small piece of jewelry from his pocket.
Within seconds, Cordelia peeked out of the half closed door facing. The small, delicate features sullen but..curious. "..What?"
"Your Mother's ring." He held the piece aloft between his index finger and thumb.
"H-How did you.." she emerged from the room, in awe of his abilities. "The man said..he had lost it." She stared transfixed at the gold treasure. "I went back as soon as I could but..he couldn't find it."
She had cried and cried and cried.
And then she spit on the guy.
"You have it now." He lifted her hand, placing the ring within her palm. John Reese wasn't the only one who could take out insurance policies. Finch had purchased the item from the pawnshop owner at a ridiculously high price. Anyone could be 'bought'..if the money was available. He did not regret one cent spent at that moment.
Tears swam in the lovely green eyes that lifted so profoundly grateful to his.
"B-But..how?" Cordelia asked breathlessly.
Finch took the ring, for she still held it so sacredly, placing it on her finger..or attempted the feat. His touch unnerved the girl, and she had tugged her hand from his, fighting the stimulus his nearness caused. She shivered involuntarily, her entire system suddenly very much attuned to the sensation.
"N-Not..that finger." She hastily fumbled to place it on the correct hand.
Finch noted that her fingers shook.
"When..Mama passed." She looked at her precious memory. "this is all I had of her. At those..places. It was like she was there, with me and it wasn't so bad sometimes."
She put her hair behind her ear for several tendrils had fallen about her face. "When the ring was..gone. I thought she had been disappointed in me, that I would leave it like I did and..she had left. I couldn't feel her a-anymore."
Finch felt privileged to be privy to such a private confession.
"Your Mother understood about the ring, Cordelia." He reached to touch her hair but, his hand curled into a tight fist and he stiffened his resolve. "but..you have it back so..all is as it should be, yes?"
She touched the ring reverently. "Yes." She whispered softly, lifting a gently gaze. "Thank you, Mr. Finch. …Thank you so very much."
He inclined his head ever so minutely.
"..If you want..I will sign your copy of my book now." Was the only peace offering she could think to make in her befuddled brain.
"Are the cows flying home?" he checked the outside of the building but Cordelia just looked at him as if he were the insane one.
"Never mind." He dismissed, seizing the opportunity presented. "I should like a moment of your time, in lieu of..the autograph, if I could?"
AUTHOR'S NOTE..AGAIN. (AS ALWAYS) FINCH AND CORDELIA ARE TAKING forever TO COME TO THE POINT. BEAR WITH ME. ONE MORE CHAPTER..I SWEAR AND IT'S OVER AND DONE. I SIMPLY CANNOT LEAVE FINCH HANGING, AS IT WERE. YOU HAVE ALL BEEN MOST PATIENT WITH THE LENGTH OF THIS CONTINUING SAGA. I DO APOLOGIZE BUT I WISH TO HAVE JUST A BIT MORE FUN WITH THE GEEK GUY. I WILL SAY MY MOST SINCERE THANK YOUS AND MOSEY ON DOWN THE ROAD THEREAFTER..THERE IS TOO SUCH A WORD, AT LEAST IN OKLAHOMA.