Believer
Do not ask questions of fairy tales. – Jewish Proverb.
--
The London skyline was gray and cheerless. Large nimbus clouds with fluffy white bottoms stretched as far as the eye could see blending in with the grayness of the sky. Trees were bare of their leaves as their limbs stood stock still and danced with the wind erotically.
The air was thick with impending moisture hinting at the rain to come. And come it would. Rushing down to the earth in large sheets, slapping against roofs, splattering down gutters and cascading downward into the sewer beneath the streets.
Yes, it seemed, Elizabeth was home.
She stood outside the Channel Tunnel entrance lightly shivering as she bounced in place to retain some of her body heat. She fiercely rubbed her dry hands together as she wondered, not for the first time, where her dear brother was.
It wasn't like Elliot to be late.
Her suitcase was rooted next to her as she continued to bounce, ignoring the odd looks she was receiving from bystanders who were bundled up in fur and polyester and cotton.
She then cursed herself for forgetting a jacket.
This meant she was cursing herself for getting up late.
This meant she was cursing Hadrienne for not waking her up.
So, all and all, the reason she was shivering in rainy London waiting for her lagging brother was because it was Hadrienne's fault.
Yep, that worked for her.
Deciding to tell her friend that she pulled out her cell phone and quickly dialed Hadrienne's number. As expected it went to voicemail.
"You have just reached and me as you can hear I am not in. Sucker. After the beep leave a message and I'll think of getting back to you."
Elizabeth had to laugh at her friend's antics but composed herself as the beep sounded.
"Hadrienne I am standing outside the Channel Tunnel in rainy London shivering without a coat and I have deemed it is your fault. Yes it is your fault that I am standing outside the Channel Tunnel in rainy London shivering without a coat. I hope you're happy."
She snapped the phone shut just as a car came up beside her and honked. She gave a small jump and bent down only to see Elliot grinning up at her, his long shaggy hair falling over his eyes. He opened the car door and sprung out, enveloping Elizabeth in a tight squeeze.
"Aw Lizzy, it's been too long." he remarked with a grin as he rubbed her arms for her, knowing she was almost freezing.
"It's been a month." Elizabeth countered, smiling up at her elder brother by four years.
"Yes, well, it's still a long time." he released Elizabeth and leaned down, easily picking up her suitcase. He threw it in the car and slid in the left side as Elizabeth went around and seated herself on the right side.
"So how's Sorbonne and all the French jazz?" Elliot inquired as his small car took off down the crowded and cramped streets of London. Elizabeth answered him while looking out the window as they passed a bright red Double Decker Bus with people seated atop, their cameras clicking and flashing away.
Ah...tourists.
It seemed that London could never get rid of the annoying buggers with fanny packs and disposable cameras. What a shame.
"Good, good. Great really, I'm taking this great creative writing class and my writing has improved a lot." Elizabeth gushed as Elliot's eyes twinkled mischievously.
"Please tell me that means you've stopped writing those horrible romance slash fantasy stories." he offhandedly commented.
Elizabeth ducked her head as her face burned while Elliot chuckled.
"Don't laugh!" she hissed slapping him on the arm, "They're not horrible."
"You're right…they're rubbish."
He hadn't prepared himself for Elizabeth slamming into him, albeit feebly, so the car swerved for a moment as others honked in protest. Elliot fended Elizabeth off as he laughed loudly. Finally Elizabeth was calmed as she sulked and crossed her arms over her chest.
"You're rubbish." she muttered, loud enough for her brother to hear as he flashed her a grin.
"Means I'm doing my job right."
"What job?"
"Being an older brother."
Elizabeth rolled her eyes but allowed a small smile to grace her heart shaped face. She hardly ever saw her brother anymore and for them to always pick up where they left off was amazing. No matter how far away they got from one another and how long it had been they always just…clicked.
Sadly the same thing could not be said for Miranda.
"So how's the family?" Elizabeth asked conversationally having not spoken to her mother or father in a few weeks. Elliot shrugged as he turned down a side street.
"Same old, same old. Dad works long hours, mum's bitching about this and that and Miranda…well she's being Miranda."
"A conceited, self-centered git?" Elizabeth supplied as Elliot nodded to her.
"Exactly."
"Well it's nice to know nothing's changed in my absence." Elizabeth answered, right on par with her brother. They continued the ride in amiable silence as they drove through London finally coming upon the Samuell townhouse.
After several long moments they were parallel parked in front of the house as Elizabeth hopped out and hurried up to the stoop, leaving Elliot to retrieve her suitcase. He huffed, shook his head as his hair flew out of his eyes and set about to the task.
Luckily for him Elizabeth's suitcase didn't weigh a fraction of what Miranda's usually did.
"Come on old chap!" Elizabeth called from the steps as Elliot rolled his eyes and chucked the suitcase at her, chuckling as she narrowly ducked it. It hit the door instead as the reef hanging from it fell to the ground in a sad heap.
The Samuell children burst out into laughter, holding their sides as tears came to their eyes.
At least…they were doing that till to the door flew open and they were met with their sight of their mother.
That immediately caused the laughter to halt.
"Blimey! Look what you two did to my reef!" she screeched, frowning down at it as Elliot spoke.
"I'll have it hanging back on the door by supper, alright mum?"
She nodded, still dissatisfied and her eyes locked with her daughter.
"Ah, darling, pleasure to have you home as always."
"Mum."
Elizabeth nodded and hugged her mother, grimacing as she kissed her cheek. She wiped at the lipstick stain as she walked into the house, Elliot trailing behind with her suitcase. She walked into the living room to see Miranda lounging in one of the chairs, earphones in her ears as she listened to music from her iPod.
"Miranda, dear, your sister's home."
Miranda looked up at Elizabeth, her blonde ringlets cascading down her shoulders.
"Sis." she greeted in her usual passive manner as she stood and embraced Elizabeth with forced sincerity. Instantly the sweet scent of cherries entered Elizabeth's nostril and she momentarily found it hard to breathe.
"Great to see you to." she chocked out as Miranda released her, flipped her hair over her shoulder, sauntered back to the chair and sat down like it had all been natural.
Wow.
She really was a model in training.
Great.
Elizabeth scratched her head awkwardly, feeling out in place in her common clothes and her tired and disheveled look compared to her perfectly made up sister.
Sometimes life wasn't fair.
Only in fairy tales was everything perfect.
And that's where Miranda belonged, in a fairy tale with her Prince Charming.
Elizabeth looked down as her heart panged. She was the one who still believed in the magic around her, who still waited for her Prince Charming to come and take her away to his castle in the clouds.
It was childish and petty, but it was Elizabeth's dream.
A dream she would never let go of.
Now feeling even more out of place she excused herself, took her suitcase, and rushed up stairs to the safety of her old room.
Her room looked nothing like how she had left it. When she had lived at home it had been covered wall to wall with posters, of books, bands, plays and drawings from artists and friends.
She had had a funky polka dotted comforter with the most outrageous colors, a sturdy yet crude bookshelf containing some of literatures finest works, a closet piled high with second hand clothes from markets, bargain stores and good old handy garage sales.
Now the posters were gone, leaving the wall a pale and bland shade of beige. A blue comforter covered her bed as her polka dotted one now resided in Sorbonne, all the way back in Paris.
At the internal mention of Paris, Elizabeth perked up as she pulled out her cell phone and laid herself down upon the lumpy bed. Odd, she hadn't remembered it being that lumpy before…
She placed her weight on her elbows and dialed Hadrienne's number and this time she picked up with a biting remark.
"How on earth is it my fault you stood outside the Channel Tunnel in rainy London shivering without a coat?! It's your fault, stupide!" she insulted in French as Elizabeth bit back a smile and rolled her green eyes.
"Don't insult me in French. Besides, I am no longer standing outside the Channel Tunnel in rainy London shivering without a coat, so you're off the hook."
"I feel so much better now." Hadrienne sarcastically quipped as Elizabeth giggled. She sometimes wondered how the two of them were such good friends. With Hadrienne's mood swings and her hostile personality and Elizabeth's naïve-ness and her outlook on life.
But then again Hadrienne was the yin to Elizabeth's yang.
Or Elizabeth was the yin to Hadrienne's yang.
They had had a conversation about it once resulting in a fight and them not speaking for four days, so they saw fit never to bring it up ever again.
"So how's your family?" Hadrienne asked in a bored fashion as Elizabeth told her all of what had happened.
Absolutely nothing.
She endured Hadrienne's taunting while she stood and began pacing back and forth in her room. She walked past her window but stopped as something caught her eye. She looked down into the next yard to see her elder neighbors Mr. and Mrs. Litcott locked in a fiery embrace.
She raised an eyebrow as she swear she could see some French kissing even from this obscure angle.
Her eyes darted to her notebook as she cut off Hadrienne mid sentence.
"Hey Had, I got to run but we'll talk later? Bye." she hung up before Hadrienne could retort. She threw her phone aside and groped for her notebook as she took her place back at the window and began to write quickly.
Marriage. Even after twenty-seven years together he could still make my heart race…
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
Please read and review! I do not own the Chronicles of Narnia!