I'm half asleep and therefore trying to type review responses would be difficult, so, for everyone: Thank you!
After this chapter, there will be two 'special' chapters, so, be prepared for something a little different from the norm.
Arrhythmia
So dream on,
And begin,
Your days with laughter;
Cause your story will end,
Happy ever after.
- Boyce Avenue
"This is how we're going to wake up every morning for the rest of our lives, isn't it?" Beca grumbles over the sound of Conrad shrieking.
Aubrey moans and pulls the blanket up over her head. She can't have gotten more than two hours sleep and already she's being jolted awake. "Why didn't you tell him you flipped the mirror?" It's the only explanation for him screeching about being a baby vampire that she can think of.
"I figured he'd notice it last night. I can flip it back if you think that'd be the lesser of two evils."
"No."
"It's 7:56." Beca pushes the blanket off of herself as she sits up. "Come on."
This is all wrong. Aubrey throws the blanket down over her head. It should be her forcing Beca to get up.
"What?" Beca asks of her frown.
"You're breaking the 8:00 rule."
"By getting up earlier."
"It doesn't matter. A rule is a rule."
Beca stares at her for a solid twenty seconds before lying back against the pillow, hands folded over her stomach. "180," she says when the clock turns to 7:57, "179, 178, 177, 176..."
"Do you enjoy people finding you intolerable?"
Beca nods without missing a number. "17you? 171…"
So much for dozing for four extra minutes. "The sound of your voice is grating and it's giving me a headache." She pinches the bridge of her nose, even more annoyed when Beca begins to whisper instead of stopping altogether. "Migraines make me puke." That gets her.
"Have you considered that if you stayed in bed at night and actually got some sleep, you might not be tired in the morning?"
Aubrey opens one eye. "No. It never crossed my mind."
"You have sleeping pills for a reason. You should take them."
"I'm saving them for times like these when I need to crush a few into your drink to shut you up."
"That's a terrible excuse, because I'm sure your friend has roofies in the other room that you could use for that."
Aubrey is sure he does too. "Yeah, but I don't think he takes Blue Cross Blue Shield.'
Beca laughs through her nose. "You want me to tell Mrs. B. you're staying in bed?"
"No." Aubrey props herself up onto her elbow then realizes she's going to have to sit all the way up to turn off the alarm before it can go off. It's tempting to just collapse back down once she knows no horrible, blaring sound is going to force her back up. "I'm still thinking about last night." She bundles the blanket up on her lap, not quite ready to leave the bed.
"Yeah, that's crazy."
Isn't everything? Aubrey picks at the blanket before looking at Beca. "I don't think I can take any more crazy." She pauses. "I hate that word."
"Sorry." Beca squeezes her knee then lets her hand just rest there. "Are you hungry?"
The dreaded question. Aubrey had been waiting for it. She isn't, but she nods anyway and pushes the blanket away from her lap. On a normal day, she'd run, shower, get dressed, and then eat. Today, she follows Beca to the kitchen in her pajamas.
"Morning, Ladies," Noah says.
Aubrey crashes into Beca from behind.
"Um, wow," Beca states, "You look…"
…like a madman. Aubrey jinxed herself. The second she said she couldn't take any more crazy, the universe decided to deal her another hand – and this one includes Chloe's dad dressed in a crop top and overalls with only one strapped latched. And boobs. She almost asks where he found any of this, but there is only one person she can think of that would own a crop top and silicone breasts.
Julia looks up from the bagel she's eating, completely neutral. "I'm hoping it's a phase."
"It's not a phase, Mom, I'm a real nineties girl," Noah replies, "This is how preteens looked back then."
Julia returns her attention to the bagel.
"They had double D cups?" Beca asks.
"I raised a preteen girl," Noah replies, "And I know how breasts work. The day Chloe walked out of her room with boobs she definitely didn't have the day before didn't fool me into thinking they grew in overnight. Don't think I don't know you were stuffing toilet paper and socks in there."
Sure, maybe when Aubrey was a little older and alone in her room, because wanted to know what she would look like once she caught up to the other girls her age – but her brothers would have tormented her if she left her room like that, and she didn't even want to know what her father would have done.
"That's a real thing girls do?" Beca asks, "Wouldn't that feel weird?"
Noah gropes his chest. "I kind of like them. A little rough on the back though." He looks at Julia. "Did you stuff your bra?"
"I was already ahead of the game. I would have looked like I was aiming for a Guinness World Record."
"I'd be afraid that whatever I stuffed in there would fall out," Beca says.
"How about you girls sit down and I'll toast you up some bagels?" Julia brushes her hands together as she stands up. "I was thinking later we could go by your apartment and start packing things up for storage. If you're set on a house, there's no point in paying rent on a place you're never going back to."
She's right, but the idea still makes Aubrey feel sick. It feels too soon and just adds another goodbye to the pile.
"Why don't you and Beca stay here?" Noah suggests, "I'll go to the apartment with Aubrey."
"Not looking like that, you won't," Aubrey blurts out.
"That sounds like a great idea," Julia agrees, "Beca and I can do some bonding, and you two can discuss all the dangerous boat things I'm not going to ever let you do."
"That sounds like the equivalent of trying to hot glue an ice cube," Beca claims, "I don't bond."
Julia places a plate in front of her with a bagel smothered in cream cheese and strawberries. "Okay. Then we can do a non-bonding activity like sitting in awkward silence or you staying in the bedroom avoiding me while I watch TV." She pulls up a chair next to Aubrey after putting her plate down as well. "How are you feeling? You look tired."
Aubrey stares at the strawberries for a long moment before admitting, "I am tired."
"Did you sleep okay?"
The question alone brings the nightly anxiety back to her. She wants to slam her fist on the table and ask how no one else is crumbling under the knowledge that they, and everyone they love, are going to die. How is existential dread not weighing them down to the point where they can barely go five minutes without thinking about it? Instead, she pulls the plate closer and just shakes her head.
"Did you take anything to help?"
"No," Beca answers for her.
"Why not?"
Fear of not waking up during an emergency. Fear of not waking up at all. She draws her lower lip between her teeth, opting for silence.
"I'm going to go get dressed," Julia says when it's clear she has no intention to answer her, "Once you're done eating, why don't you come back to the bathroom and I'll help you with your hair?" She kisses Aubrey's head while standing then ruffles Beca's hair on her way out of the kitchen.
Aubrey knows the interrogation only stopped so it wouldn't prevent her from eating. She lifts up her bagel in appreciation and takes a bite that she tries to enjoy. It's good. But all the pleasure centers in her brain shut down to it, and in the end it's just necessary sustenance.
"You want some juice?" Noah asks.
Liquid – also necessary for survival. Aubrey nods. "Please. Thank you."
"If you need anything else," Noah says while placing two glasses of orange juice on the table, "I'll be in the bathroom giving your mother fashion advice."
"It's kind of a nice change up from all the argyle sweaters," Beca says once he's out of earshot, "Maybe I'll ask him for some pointers. And speaking of 'pointers', I was thinking."
That can't be good.
"I was thinking again about the whole strap thing and-"
Aubrey has to cut her off, even if her mouth is half full. "Why are you thinking about sex with me even more than Chloe does?"
Beca stares directly as her. "Because it's the only fucking thing that feels good right now."
Touché. "Go on."
"I have no idea what I'm looking for and you definitely have no idea what to look for-"
Aubrey frowns.
"-so I was thinking there is one person we can ask for advice."
The first thought that comes to mind is Stacie – and when Beca suggests Conrad, it takes a second to sink in that she's not just referring to her by her last name.
"Is that look a firm no?" Beca asks.
Aubrey realizes she stopped chewing mid-bite.
"I mean, I know asking him is weird, but I don't think he'd find it weird, you know? Okay, why do you look like you're about to cry?"
The saliva pooling in her mouth has softened the rest of the food to the point she can swallow without chewing anymore. "That sounds fine. You should ask him."
"Okay. He's probably downstairs… We could ask him."
"I'm pretty busy."
"Oh yeah, your schedule is just packed full."
"Let me know what he says." Aubrey takes the glass of juice with her to the bathroom and doesn't look back, even when she hears Beca turning in her chair to watch her walk away.
"I hate you," Beca calls after her.
"Hate you, too!"
"It's nice to see the beautiful fondness you two are developing for each other," Julia comments when Aubrey walks past Noah, into the bathroom, "Soon you'll only strongly dislike each other."
Aubrey flops down on the closed toilet seat and places her glass on the countertop. "Maybe in another ten years." She glances over at the open medicine cabinet and at the mirror Julia is staring into while she curls her hair. Exposure Therapy is bullshit. Trying to desensitize herself to the mirror by looking at it isn't going to do any more good that being exposed to a serial killer did to desensitize her from the idea of being murdered. She sniffs and looks down at her laps and then around at the walls.
"I give it ten more days," Noah says.
Aubrey looks at him and just frowns.
"I'll let you ladies be and go get changed," Noah replies to her silence, "What did 90s preteen girls wear when they had to do manual labor? Chloe never provided me with any example of that."
"A t-shirt and jeans," Aubrey answers.
"T-shirt and jeans it is." He leans in and pecks Julia on the lips then disappears around the corner.
"After you two get everything packed, you'll have to look into a storage unit," Julia says.
"I know that." It comes off a little more on edge then Aubrey means it to.
"I know that apartment means a lot to you and Chloe. I'm sorry."
Aubrey knows giving it up is the right thing to do. Paying rent on a place she's never going to be able to live peacefully in is a waste of money – whether she has a mass amount of it or not. Also, they're building a house for god's sake. But who is to say she will be able to live peacefully there either? Or anywhere? She wonders if they moved – after losing the baby...
"Turn around and I'll figure out your hair."
The warmth of the curling iron so close to the back of her neck after she turns sends a chill down her arms. She waits for it to burn her, almost wants it to, but it never does. Julia is careful. Gentle. Meticulous in getting each curl perfect for her. Aubrey rests her elbow on the back of the toilet and her head against her hand. Soon, she'll have her independence back – be able to curl her own hair. Provided that by the grace of God she has enough energy back to make the effort.
"Are you okay if Beca and I stay here while you and Dad go pack?" Julia asks.
"I thought that was already the plan."
"It is. I'm just asking if you're okay with that part of it."
It takes a second to realize she means the part where she and Beca are alone without Aubrey. It seems unlikely that she's going to return to find herself being cast out and replaced at this point. "Why wouldn't it be?" It turns out the opportunity to play dumb can be appealing even to her under the right circumstances.
"Hair up or down?"
"Up." It won't help keep the aching behind her eyes from spreading throughout her head, but it'll keep her hair out of her face while she's packing. And maybe if she looks slightly more put together, she'll start to feel it as well.
Julia turns off the curling iron and places it on the sink counter then rakes her fingers through Aubrey's hair. The hairspray off to the side remains untouched as she pulls her hair up into a ponytail – making Aubrey wonder what the point of curling it was anyway if nothing is keeping it in place. "Dad was quite a character this morning, wasn't he?"
That's one word for it.
"I keep telling myself it's nice to see him in something other than argyle for once. Can I check on your shoulder while we're in here?"
"It's-"
Julia raises her eyebrows.
"Fine," Aubrey obliges and turns around. She slides her arm through the sleeve then pulls the left side of her shirt up around her neck. The medical tape burns her skin as Julia peels it off, not quite the same feeling that comes with ripping off a band-aid. It feels more like a bad sunburn. At least it feels like something.
"You're so lucky you didn't lose an arm," Julia mumbles. (That much Aubrey does consider herself lucky for.) "Who bandaged this?" she asks, still pulling off strips of tape.
"Beca. I feel like a mummy right now."
"I can see why. We might have to show her how to do this. Okay." Julia peels off the rest of it and throws it in the trash, then pauses. "Why was it bleeding?"
"I bumped it. It's-"
"Fine. I know." She gives Aubrey half a smile and wets a washcloth in the sink. "It must have been so scary - being shot and losing consciousness."
The burning remains, but the washcloth feels like nothing as it wipes away the dried blood from around the wound. "I didn't see anything." That's the scary part. "After it happened." Between collapsing on the couch and waking up in the hospital – it was all just nothing.
"What did you expect to see?"
That part is even worse. "Nothing." Aubrey pulls her arm back through her sleeve then swipes at her eyes.
"I don't understand." Julia tosses the washcloth in the sink then kneels down in front of her before she can get up and make a break for the door. "Help me understand. What, um, was there something you wanted to see?"
"Don't people hallucinate that they leave their body or – or they watch their lives replay on this big screen or…" It's all bullshit, but it must be comforting that something else is there. The feeling of dread creeps back in although it never really left.
"You're talking about a near death experience. Aubrey, as far as I know, you didn't die – not even for a few seconds. You lost quite a bit of blood, but you were still very much alive. And in the hospital, you came to quite a few times, but you blocked it out. Even if you did see something, you probably wouldn't remember. And this past time you were in the hospital, when you woke up, you said you saw Chloe – so that time you did see something." She places her hands, still cold and damp from the washcloth, on either side of Aubrey's face. "It's normal to really start thinking about mortality around your age and to be scared, but, um, most people aren't hit with it in such a jarring way – I can't even imagine that. But the best thing to do is to pick something to believe and do whatever it takes to believe it."
"I can't." Even the idea of blind faith alone is just… "I need reason."
"I'll give you reason. I'll give you reason right now. Do you believe in math?"
Of course. Who wouldn't believe in math? It's tried and true. She can lay it down in front of herself and see it.
"There is like a hundred of theories about what happens after we die. Basic theories like reincarnation or heaven. Fascinating, in-depth theories about how maybe we are the universe experiencing itself or how we are taking a turn living as everyone or how life is a circle that we repeat a little differently each time. There is one theory that something came out of nothing and will somehow go back to being nothing again. If I put even just ten of those theories in a jar including the theory about nothing – how likely is it that I'm going to pull out nothing over one of those somethings? Statistically, there is a 90% chance, I'm pulling out something – and the more theories I add, the more that chance increases. So believe in math. Okay? Math says there is something – and math doesn't lie. There are just a lot of people who are bad at it, and lucky you, you're not one of them, so you know I'm right. There is something. I don't know what it is. But there is something. I promise you that. The inevitability of dying is scary, the unknown is scary, but you don't have to be scared of it being the end. You'll keep going. And you won't be alone. We will all be there at some point – and you have people who are already there. And when it happens, you won't be alone then either. Someone will be there. It might be Beca, but that's still someone."
It's difficult to find the strength to laugh when every ounce of effort is going into not hyperventilating. It makes sense – everything that she's saying. It's reasonable that, statistically, something happens next. It's also reasonable to believe that something cannot form out of nothing – and cannot become nothing but can only change form. But if that's the case, how did the universe form? How was there never nothing? And what form can consciousness even turn into? It's her brain that allows her to be aware and without that…
"Come on." Julia moves her hands from Aubrey's face to her hand to pull her to her feet. "You're going to go with Dad. You're going to pack things. He's going to tell you all of his gator stories. And you're going to forget about these thoughts for a little while and get some relief. Distraction is a great form of relief."
Aubrey only realizes she's standing once they're stepping between the bathroom and the hallway.
"You all ready?" Noah asks.
"No. She's not even dressed," Julia answers for her, "And neither are you." She motions to his chest. "You forgot something."
"I kinda like these." Noah jiggles the silicone breasts.
"You're not going to like them when you bend over to pack something and can't stand back up because you're too top heavy," Julia says.
"You're a smart woman," Noah says, "It's 50% of why I married you. You want to know what makes up the other 50%?"
"Not right now." Julia ushers Aubrey toward the bedroom.
"Kindness!" Noah calls after her, "Compassion! Everything near to your heart, if you know what I mean!" He does an exaggerated wink.
Julia makes a humming noise and smiles back at him then closes the bedroom door between them. "What are you wearing, Baby?"
There is a pulsing in Aubrey's head and she momentarily questions the reality of the moment. She feels awake but…drifting. "Um…" She locates a sweatshirt and a pair of yoga pants. If beauty was pain, she'd be the most beautiful person alive already; the desire to be comfortable overrides the need to be presentable in front of Chloe's dad and whoever they might see in the lobby of Aubrey's apartment building.
"You need help?"
Aubrey shakes her head.
"You want me to step out?"
Also no.
Julia sits down in the middle of the bed and looks at her phone while Aubrey begins the fight with her clothes. "The principal at Chloe's school emailed me late last night," she says, "He wanted to know if you would be willing to help go through Chloe's things in the classroom – and said the kids had some get well cards for Chloe that they want to give you."
To give her? "Why me?"
"Well, I imagine Chloe talks about you and they trust you'd get them to her," Julia says, "What should I say?"
"No."
"Okay. In that case, I might see if I can be of any help. He said he can't find her lesson plans or-"
"They're in the bag that always falls behind the bookshelf," Aubrey says, "And she keeps the emergency binder behind her cardigan on the shelf next to the door."
"Anything else?" Julia asks.
The truth is, Aubrey could probably step inside and run that classroom. But the thought of sad little faces handing her cards that Chloe can't even look at or interrogating her about what happened sounds a lot worse than allowing someone else to sort through Chloe's organized mess. She sits down on the edge of the bed in her sweatshirt and underwear, holding the pants in her lap. "They lost her too, didn't they?" It should be her in that hospital bed, not Chloe who the whole world needs and loves…
"Yeah. They did."
Growing up, Aubrey idolized her teachers. They were right up there with Dolly Parton and God. They were always nice to her; she might even go as far as to say they loved her more than her own parents did. Every day, she wished Matilda was real life. Had one of them died, it would have been a devastating event. And to not even know what happened to any extent or whether or not they were ever coming back…
"What are you thinking?" Julia asks.
About how unfair it all is. She leans over and pulls on her pants. How many kids in that room felt Chloe loved them more than their own mother did? It's not as though she can do anything to fix it. Even if Chloe were to wake up within the next five minutes, what would be the chance of her being able to return to work this year? She'd either have to lie to them or tell them that Chloe is no longer their teacher if they asked.
"I'm going to email him and let him know I'll help him out," Julia responds to the silence, "And if you change your mind, you're welcome to join and help me out. I can't imagine that classroom is anything less than absolute chaos."
Aubrey can't either. "I'll think about it."
"Have you ever considered working with children?" Julia asks.
Despite not feeling much of anything, Aubrey's initial reaction is to laugh. "Sure – every time Beca has asked me why I never pursued a career as a boot camp leader."
"Boot camp is for teenagers. Those are a whole different breed of children. There is a drastic difference between six and sixteen."
"Yeah, well, I suck at all breeds – and the one that did like me is dead, so…"
"She's missing," Julia says, "No one knows for sure if she's dead."
"The statistics of her being dead tell me otherwise." Sophia never even got to experience life. This had probably been her first time experiencing a 'vacation' and it killed her instead of leaving her with pleasant memories in what was otherwise a god-awful world. "Dad's probably waiting."
"Probably," Julia agrees, "But a lesson in patience never hurt him. Listen. Make sure the two of you eat lunch, okay? I'm going to text him and tell him the same thing. Do not work straight through lunch. And take breaks when you need to. And keep Dad out of trouble; you know he likes to find ways to get into it. And if you need anything – anything – food, a break, even to come back here, tell him. Or call me on your secret phone. Do you have my number on there?"
"No."
"If you're going to have to a secret phone, at least have it prepared for emergencies. Where is it? Find it."
"I don't think it's a secret anymore," Aubrey says as she gets up to locate the phone. She stops short of retrieving it, the idea that it may not be there slithering its way into her mind. It's ridiculous. Nobody was in the room to steal or smash her phone – but if she looks and it's not there… But wouldn't it better to know?
"Aubrey," Julia says, "Hey."
Aubrey turns around. "I'll use Dad's phone. This one is a piece of crap anyway." It feels like Julia's gaze is boring through her skull and into her innermost thoughts, and she angles herself toward the door to leave.
"Wait." Julia climbs off the bed with an arm extended to stop her. "You know the Beale way – hugs goodbye. And hello," she says, pulling her in, "And any other circumstance we can make up for the sake of love."
Nothing fills the space between feeling everything at once and nothing at all anymore. It's just empty space. Aubrey pulls back after Julia kisses the side of her head and opens the door.
Noah is waiting halfway down the hall, busying himself with something on his phone. "You ready?"
Not in the slightest. "Yeah." She stands by the bedroom doorway as Chloe's parents exchange 'I love you's and a quick kiss. Maybe she's jealous that never once has she seen her parents treat each other with love or maybe she's destroyed by the thought that may never be her and Chloe one day – whatever is bothering her, she can't feel it anyway. Maybe she could, but it's impossible to feel any worse than she already does so anything new she could feel is just passing her by. The inn is full. There's no more room until the next mass exodus.
"Maybe you should let Beca know you're on your way out," Julia suggests.
And risk crashing into Conrad in the process? Not after why Beca went downstairs to begin with. That and if she sees her, putting a few blocks in between them might be more difficult than it already is. "She'll figure it out."
"Okay. Be good, Guys! Call if you need me." Seconds later, before they even reach the front door, her phone rings. She pulls it from her pocket then tilts her head in Noah's direction.
"What?" he ends the call, "I always need you."
"Aubrey, call me if you need anything, Baby, okay?"
Aubrey hovers by the doorway, hand on the knob, for a solid five seconds before nodding and letting herself out without glancing behind.
"You wanna use my phone?" Noah holds it out to the side, "We can drive her mad together. I've been brushing up on my dinosaur facts."
Is there anybody who doesn't know about that? Aubrey stops mid-way down the stairs and just looks at him.
"Fine," Noah concedes and passes her by, "If we call her too much, she'll figure out we're not on our way to pack right now."
"What?" Now, Aubrey jogs down the stairs after him.
"It's going to take too long to get the boxes," Noah claims, "We'll maybe have time to pack one room by the time get back."
Yeah, they're going to need boxes, but, "Lowe's is like fifteen minutes away."
"We're not going to Lowe's." Noah opens the passenger door of his truck for her. "I need to run an errand. We're going to Brooklyn – and we're going to be there for awhile."
