- Part 1 -
Arrhythmia
It's okay to say you've got a weak spot;
You don't always have to be on top.
Better to be hated,
Than loved, loved, loved for what you're not.
You're vulnerable, you're vulnerable.
You are not a robot.
You're lovable, so lovable.
But you're just troubled.
-Marina and the Diamonds
"Shoot it."
Aubrey stands with her back against a tree, staring at the desert in front of her. It strikes her as odd that there would be a tree out here. But it's behind her in the sand – a thick trunk, strong branches, deep green leaves. It's the only object for miles, from what she can see.
"Shoot it."
The voice has no origin. There are no people around. It doesn't come from the sand. From the tree. From the sky. It's just there, repeating a single instruction over and over.
"Shoot it."
She grips her rifle and looks around in confusion. She doesn't know how she got here. Doesn't know where exactly she is. Afghanistan, possibly? Maybe Iran? The air is sweltering, and she's dressed in her father's army uniform, holding his favorite rifle. "Shoot what?" she dares to ask out loud. "There is nothing here."
"I gave you an order," her father's voice booms from behind her.
Aubrey spins around, nearly tripping over her own two feet. The tree is gone, and her father is standing in its place, staring her down with a stern gaze. "Shoot what?" she asks, quieter this time. "I don't see anything." There are no animals. No people. There aren't even any buildings. Just her. And him. And miles upon miles of grains of sand.
Her father grabs the gun from her hands and throws it on the ground beside them. "I gave you an order, Aubrey," he repeats. His lips curve into a disbelieving grin. "Who is in charge here?"
Aubrey swallows hard. "You," she answers, "I just, I don't…"
"I just, I don't…there's nothing here, Daddy," he mocks her in a whiney voice.
Aubrey frowns and straightens herself up. "There is nothing here to shoot, Sir," she firmly points out.
"Well, shoot it anyway!" he commands.
Aubrey blinks and looks at the gun on the ground and then around again at their surroundings, unsure of he what wants from her. Is she supposed to pick up the gun and start shooting at air? There aren't even clouds in the sky to aim at.
"Turn around," her father orders.
"I'm sorry?" Aubrey looks up to see him unbuckling his belt. She quickly shakes her head. "No, no, I'm going to shoot it," she quickly assures him and bends down to grab the gun.
"Oh, for Pete's Sake." Her father grabs her by the arm before she can grab the gun and forces her to stand up straight. "Are you deaf, Aubrey? Do you have a problem hearing?"
Aubrey looks at him and shakes her head. "No, Sir, I can hear," she answers, trying not to look at his belt. "I was trying to follow your orders to shoot it."
"The order is to turn around," her father states – voice strong, void of emotion.
"Yes, Sir." Aubrey turns around and bows her head, closing her eyes. She listens to the sound of his buckle, breathes through her mouth, braces herself for impact.
"This is for your own good," her father says, "It hurts me just as much as it hurts you. Do you understand?"
Aubrey nods. "Yes, Sir," she whispers and wishes he would just get it over with.
"Do you think we question orders in the army?" her father asks. "What do you think would happen if we second guessed the orders given to us during war?"
Aubrey knows the answer to this question. She has heard it a million times. "You would die." She takes a deep breath and taps her thumb against each of her fingers in a repetitive motion. It's fine. In a few minutes, everything will be fine. She thinks about going home to her apartment in Queens. About the flowers on the deck. Chloe's favorite mug that always finds its way to the coffee table, even after Aubrey washes it and puts it away. The annoying glow-in-the-dark stars that Chloe insisted putting on the ceiling above their bed. Everything about home that she likes.
"Do you want to die?" her father asks.
Aubrey shakes her head. "No, Sir." She keeps tapping her thumb against her fingers, counting every time they touch. "I just want to go home."
The belt makes a whooshing noise before it comes into contact with her backside.
Aubrey sucks in air and stiffens involuntarily. She tries to relax, knowing it hurts more when her muscles are tense.
"You got too many of your mother's genes," her father says, and swings the belt again.
There is a lump forming in Aubrey's throat, and tears sting her eyes. It's not true. She tries too hard to be like him for that to be true. It occurs to her that she wouldn't have to try if it wasn't true. Maybe she isn't like either of them. That can't be true either. She keeps tapping her fingers, and waits for the final blow. It's always three. Never more, never less. She's going to plant more flowers on the deck when she gets home. The final hit stings worse than the first two, and she just manages to catch herself before her knees start to buckle. It's fine. She keeps tapping. It's over. She's going to go home, and she's going to plant more flowers. She needs space for more flowers.
"Turn around," her father orders again.
Aubrey swallows down the lump in her throat, and she turns. There is little she can do about the tears rimming her eyes, other than refuse to let them fall.
"Do you want something to cry about?" her father asks, staring straight into her eyes.
"No, Sir," Aubrey answers, void of feeling.
"Good." Her father nods. He laces his belt back through the loops of his khakis. "Now, don't make me do that again, Soldier." He slugs her shoulder in a playful manner, too hard. "Got it?" He raises his hand in salute.
Aubrey nods and salutes him back. "Yes, Sir."
"Punching bag!" He's suddenly grinning, holding his hand out flat in front of him.
Aubrey stops tapping. She can feel all of her energy draining as she alternates punching each of his hands.
Her father salutes her one more time before he turns, and suddenly he's gone and the tree is back. And she's in the desert alone. "Daddy?" she turns in a circle, panic welling up inside of her when she realizes she can't go home. She doesn't know where she is, or where to go.
xxxxx
"Hey," Chloe whispers, breaking her dream, "Aubrey." She places her hand on Aubrey's back and rubs the space between her shoulder blades.
Aubrey's eyelids feel too heavy, and she has to force them open. She immediately comes face to face with Chloe, who is kneeling beside the bed.
"Hey." Chloe smiles at her and moves her hand from Aubrey's back to brush her hair away from her face. Her eyes are rimmed red, and Aubrey immediately realizes that she's been crying. "We have to go if we want time to get breakfast, and you need to eat. I left out your toothbrush, so you can brush your teeth. I figured you would want to do that."
All of Aubrey's limbs feel like jello as she slowly pushes herself into a sitting positon. She nods. Her mouth tastes disgusting from throwing up the night before. "Chloe?" She yawns and rubs her face.
"What's up?" Chloe stands and lets one of her hands rest on the back of Aubrey's head.
"I want to plant a Hibiscus tree on the deck," Aubrey states and looks at her for her input.
Chloe blinks and looks slightly confused for a moment before she nods her head. "Sure, I mean, I don't see why we can't do that." She shrugs. "I think it would look nice out there. We could get two, and put one in each corner by the fence, if you want. But it is going to get cold soon; we would have to keep them inside for Winter, if you want to get them now."
Aubrey nods.
"Okay." Chloe gently rubs the back of Aubrey's head. "We'll see what we can find when we get home."
It gives Aubrey something to look forward to. She decides she's going to plants more flowers and redecorate the entire deck. Then she can invite Brian over and they can study somewhere other than the café for once. She climbs out of bed and makes her way to the bathroom to brush her teeth. They can even put a table out there, and she and Chloe use it for dinner sometimes. She repetitively taps her thumb against each of her fingers on her right hand, making herself a list of things to do once they're back in Queens. Chloe is good at hanging up their Christmas lights; they could put string lights up outside.
Or maybe they shouldn't redecorate the deck just yet.
"Do you want to look at houses?" Aubrey asks, stopping in front of the sink. "In Queens? I want to stay in Queens." She shakily picks up her toothbrush and turns on the water.
"I would love to look at houses in Queens." Chloe wraps her arms around Aubrey from behind and rests her chin on Aubrey's shoulder, looking at them in the mirror. "I love Queens, and you. What's with the sudden change of heart about buying a house?"
Aubrey doesn't really know. It would be nice though – having a house. Somewhere with more space to plant flowers. There would be no loud neighbors banging on the walls at odd hours of the night. They could paint the walls and choose their own carpets and wood flooring. She stares absently at her toothbrush for a few seconds before it sinks in that she hasn't given Chloe an answer. "I just want to be with you," she answers quickly, trying to sound casual about it. She places her toothbrush under the water, then adds toothpaste and brushes her teeth. Her eyes stay cast downward, and she avoids looking at her reflection – not wanting to picture the word that once took its place.
"I want to be with you, too." Chloe kisses her shoulder then lifts her head. "We could go all out and take out a loan, and get a house in Jamaica Estates. You know the firm you're at is about to hire you on; we can definitely pay it back eventually. It might be when we're, like, 50, but it would be worth it."
Aubrey puts her toothbrush down, then cups her hands under the water and rinses her mouth. She turns off the water and dries her hand on a towel before turning to face Chloe. Eventually is definitely the keyword in paying off a house in Jamaica Estates. But once the firm hires her full-time, which they have already told both her and Brian that they plan to, she and Chloe won't exactly be lacking financially. She nods. She can picture living the rest of her life with Chloe in Jamaica Estates. The thought curves the corners of her lips into an almost-smile.
Chloe locks eyes with her and smiles softly. "I'm ready to go home," she says.
Despite Chloe's arms wrapped around her, Aubrey feels the need to be closer to her. She swallows thickly in a brief moment of hesitation, then leans forward and brushes their lips together in a light breath of a kiss. It's the closest thing to safe she's felt since arriving on this island. She presses their lips together again, needier this time, like she can draw the safety out of Chloe and into herself. It occurs to her all too quickly that she's gone clingy, but she can't stop. She parts her lips and nudges Chloe's mouth open with her tongue, soaking in everything that she has missed about her since they last considered themselves girlfriends.
Chloe grabs her by the sides of her hoodie and pulls her in closer, simultaneously backing her up against the sink counter. She kisses her back, soft and sweet, letting go of Aubrey's shirt and lifting her hands to cup her face. Chloe's yearning is as tangible as the feeling of her lips parting against Aubrey's mouth, their tongues briefly caressing against each other.
Aubrey's eyes flutter closed in pleasure, and she entangles one of her hands in Chloe's hair, twisting the soft, red curls around her fingers. She slides her other arm around Chloe's back, pulling her as close as she can. It doesn't feel close enough. She kisses Chloe hard enough to elicit a moan from her, and Chloe kisses her back with twice the passion - her lips gentle and warm. All of Chloe is gentle and warm. Aubrey pulls back from the kiss, their lips just barely touching, to breathe.
Chloe lightly pecks her lips one more time, then kisses her cheek and pulls her into a tight hug.
Aubrey leans back and opens her eyes. She untangles her fingers from Chloe's hair, then cups her chin and traces her thumb lightly over Chloe's bottom lip. "I love you." She looks up and meets her gaze.
Chloe smiles with her mouth and her eyes. She rests her hands on Aubrey's cheeks and leans forward, pressing their foreheads and noses together. "I love you, too, Aubrey. More than you know." She presses their lips together one more time. "We need to go before we miss breakfast."
Aubrey nods. Her stomach growls at the mention of food, and she realizes she's much more hungry than she is nauseated now. She reluctantly releases Chloe and picks up her toothbrush and toothpaste again, so she can pack them before they walk out the door. "Let's eat outside and make daisy chains again." It's a better option than eating inside and being interrogated about why she looks like death warmed over. She feels guilty at the idea of not saying goodbye to Fat Amy or Sophia. Her stomach rumbles more insistently, and she squeezes out from between Chloe and the counter to walk to the bedroom.
Chloe follows with one hand on Aubrey's back. "I think we should move our stuff by the door," she suggests. "Then we can just grab it after breakfast and go."
Aubrey unzips the side of her carryon and carefully places her toothbrush and toothpaste where they belong. "Did you get your bear?" she asks. God forbid, Chloe leave that behind.
"I got everything." Chloe helps gather up all of their luggage and move it to front door.
Aubrey's shoes are still where she kicked them off the night before. She places their luggage by the door and examines her shoes from afar to make sure no blood managed to get on them, then slips them on. She grabs the room key and stuffs it in the back pocket of her pants, then turns and waits for Chloe to put her shoes on.
"Do you need anything before we go?" Chloe asks, "More Tylenol?"
Aubrey shakes her head. "No." Both her head and arm still ache, but significantly less than earlier. She doesn't feel quite as bad after getting more sleep, and she imagines food will give her even more of her strength back.
"Let's go get some food then." Chloe winks at her then opens the door and steps outside. "I can't wait until it starts getting cold back home – like cold cold."
Aubrey follows her outside, and shuts the door behind them. It's cool enough out that she can still feel comfortable in Chloe's sweatshirt, but it isn't particularly cold. She would be perfectly content if it just remained Autumn all year round in New York. Unlike Chloe, she isn't particularly fond of snow and ice. She is a little eager to go ice skating at Bryant Park and Rockefeller Center though. And for the Christmas village to open. There is also the winter setup at Macy's. And the light show. Okay, maybe Winter isn't that bad. But that's not to say they need to skip right over Fall. "We should go to Jim Thorpe and New Hope once the leaves start changing," she says, breaking into an excited grin.
"Oh, totes." Chloe grabs her hand and laces their fingers. "You should invite your friend. We could all go together."
"Oh." Aubrey never thought of that. She never spends time with Chloe and Brian at the same time. Not for Chloe's lack of trying. Aubrey just never really invites her. Brian is kind of a dick, and she isn't exactly sure Chloe would enjoy his presence as much as she does. "Okay."
"You don't have to." Chloe bumps their shoulders and starts walking. "It could be just us."
"No. It might be fun." They could invite Conrad too, if they can convince him to leave the café, and then Chloe would have someone irritatingly happy to talk to. Aubrey walks beside her, planning out the trip in her head. They could do a day trip in one place, get a hotel, day trip in the other the next day, and then drive back to New York that night.
"We could even hit up that flea market in the Poconos again soon," Chloe says. "We could stay with my brother." That's one thing that Aubrey knows Chloe loves about living in New York – that they're not trapped in New York. There are hundreds of places they can day trip to or stay at for a weekend. From the beaches in New Jersey to the mountains to Philadelphia. They both love to travel, and they're in a place they can do it whenever they feel like it, for cheap. They definitely need to stay in Queens forever.
"Is your brother your real brother?" Aubrey blurts out as they round the corner of the inn. It's not a question she has ever thought to ask before.
"What?" Chloe gives her a skeptical look. "Do you think I just found him on the street one day and declared us related?"
Aubrey wouldn't put it past her. Maybe she should have said 'biological'. Or, maybe it was just a tactless question. She quickly gives Chloe an apologetic frown. "I didn't mean -"
"Relax." Chloe grins at her. "We had the same mom, different dad. That's probably why he has boring brown hair. So, yeah, he's like half my real brother." She squeezes Aubrey's hand. "You're allowed to ask questions, you know? I mean, no, I don't really want to talk about that. But if you want to know something, it's not some secret."
"Do you remember your parents?" Aubrey asks. Is that another insensitive question?
Chloe stops them beside the stairs and turns to face Aubrey, leaning sideways against the wall. She stares off in the distance behind her for a moment, her grin fading to her normal resting face. "Kind of? I was four when my brother's school finally realized something was up and called Social Services. I don't know why, but I remember my dad always smelled like Cloves. Sometimes I can still smell him at the most random moments, even when no one is smoking Cloves." She pauses. "I saw my mom when I was twelve. She found me and my brother outside of school, one day. So, yeah, I remember her well."
"Why did they take you?" Aubrey asks. She doesn't know how to word it any softer. No one would have even thought to ever call Social Services on Aubrey's parents. Her father was a big shot in the army and her mother was a respectable business woman who single-handedly managed to raise three children while Aubrey's father was deployed. Her family was what everyone considered perfect.
Chloe inhales a deep breath. "It's not a secret, but let's just talk about it when we get home, okay?" She gives Aubrey an uncomfortable, lopsided smile. "This isn't where I want to tell you."
Aubrey swallows hard and nods.
Chloe lets go of her hand and wraps her in a hug, burying her face in Aubrey's shoulder.
"Lesboooos!" Bumper yells, walking down the stairs, past them. He pauses a few feet away. "I don't understand you lesbians. You're into each other, when you could have this." He motions to himself. "You could have all of this." He points at his crotch. "All of this."
Chloe wipes her eyes and turns to face him. "Aubrey's fingers are longer than anything you have to offer me," she states.
Aubrey stares at her in a mixture of mortification and pride.
"I highly doubt that," Bumper says. "Because my dick is super long."
Aubrey looks up. "I have a ruler, if you want to whip it out," she offers.
"You know, I would love to," Bumper replies, tugging at collar of his shirt, "But I have somewhere I have to be. There are girls waiting for me all over this island right now. So many girls."
Jesse jogs down the stairs, a wide grin on his face. "I didn't know they had a blow-up doll shop here." He slugs Bumper's shoulder, and keeps jogging.
"They're real girls!" Bumper yells after him, "They're real!" He frowns and keeps walking toward the driveway.
Chloe watches him go before she looks at Aubrey again. "Ready?"
Aubrey looks up the stairs and at the door to the lobby. "Do you want to get food and I'll find us a place to sit?" There aren't that many trees to sit under, but it's the only excuse to not go inside that Aubrey can think of.
"Sure." Chloe nods and starts up the stairs. "Find us somewhere with a lot of flowers."
Aubrey nods and looks around. They might have better luck toward the side of the building where the flowers have been trampled on less. She walks in front of the stairs toward the other side of the building, looking at the ground as she goes. There are several patches of violets on the other side of the building – wild or planted, Aubrey doesn't know. She bends down and picks one, then twirls its stem around her pointer finger.
"Look, I don't know why it matters if Becky is gay. Becky's a big girl. She can make her own choices."
Aubrey drops the flower and looks up when she hears Luke's voice from around the corner.
"I told you, my daughter is not gay," Dr. Mitchell replies.
There is a sinking feeling in the pit of Aubrey's stomach. She struggles to unpocket her phone then presses herself up against the wall, behind the metal gutter, as she turns the video camera on. She glances behind her to check for Chloe, then holds her phone up against the gutter so it's pointed around the corner. Even just the sound of her own breaths suddenly sound too loud, and she leans her head against the bricks, trying to remain absolutely silent.
"Hey, I appreciate the extra cash," Luke says, "But I got slathered in honey. They dumped feathers on me. Audrey's a bitch."
Aubrey watches them from the screen of her phone as she records them.
Dr. Mitchell shakes his head, looking absolutely furious. "I'm not paying you for this," he says, threateningly, "You're targeting the wrong girl. You're supposed to be getting that redhead off this island and away from Beca for good."
"How?" Luke asks. "She has her own personal security. I can't get to her unless I get Audrey out of the way. If I hit on the other girl, I might as well cut my own balls off before Audrey does it for me."
"You weren't hired to take them on dates," Dr. Mitchell says, "I'm paying you to get rid of them."
"Look, I have one more plan," Luke tells him, "Give me til the end of the day."
"You have 12 hours," Dr. Mitchell states.
"Boo," Bumper whispers in Aubrey's ear.
Aubrey jumps and drops her phone against the bottom of the gutter with a loud crack.
Bumper bursts into laughter. "You should have seen your face." He throws his hands in the air and mocks her facial expression, then walks away.
Aubrey scrambles to pick up her phone. The screen is completely shattered. She stands up straight, Dr. Mitchell and Luke staring directly at her. Panic surges through her and her hand flies to cover her mouth as she gags and chokes down bile. She sniffles and wipes her nose with the back of her hand, then draws herself to full height and drops her arms down by her sides. "I know what you're doing," she states, shoving her fear deep down until she can no longer feel it for a moment, "You're not going to get away with it."
Dr. Mitchell approaches her calmly and grabs her phone out of her hand.
"Give me my phone," Aubrey demands, her voice turning into a low growl.
Dr. Mitchell points her broken phone at her face. "I told you," he says slowly, "To stay away from my kid." He lifts her phone and chucks it against the wall, breaking it into pieces.
Aubrey balls her hands into fists, digging her fingernails into her palms. "I'm calling the police." She takes several steps back, ready to book it to the nearest phone inside the inn.
"With what?" Luke asks, looking down at her phone, "I don't feel concerned." He walks away, not even looking at her.
Dr. Mitchell appears nonplussed by the threat. "Go home," he says and walks away from her.
Doesn't he know that that is exactly what she is trying to do? "If you go near Chloe," Aubrey calls after him, "I will kill you."
"That's a hefty threat, Aubrey," Dr. Mitchell says, looking over his shoulder as he walks, "What do you think the police are going to think about that?" He raises his eyebrows at her, then turns and walks down the driveway.
Aubrey's cheeks are damp with tears of panic. She kneels down and gathers up the pieces of her phone, shoving them haphazardly into the front pocket of Chloe's sweatshirt. Her stomach turns in circles like an off-kilter washing machine, and she leans forward so she doesn't get vomit on her shirt as she gags. Her stomach still has nothing in it. She slides her arms around her midsection and dry heaves several times then throws up a miniscule amount of bile and water. It hurts. On a pain scale, the cramps in her chest and stomach are pushing an 8.
"Aubrey?" Benji starts walking in her direction.
Aubrey scrambles to her feet the moment she can stop her stomach from heaving. She wipes her mouth and nose with the back of her hand and walks as fast as she can to the inn, pain piercing through her stomach and ribs as she jogs up the stairs. There is an old rotary phone hanging on the wall by the door and she pulls the receiver off the hook.
Benji stops a few inches behind her. "Did something happen?" he asks. "I can't help but notice you seem," he pauses, "distressed." He reaches out to touch her arm.
Aubrey presses herself against the wall. "I will call the police on you if you touch me," she warns him and presses the phone against her ear, "Then, I will personally remove your arm and shove it up your ass." There is static on the other end. She places her finger in one of the holes and dials 9-1-1. More static.
"There hasn't been reception most of the morning, Dear," Maggie says from behind the desk, "I think there might be a storm a few miles out. Sometimes that messes with our phone lines."
Aubrey slams the receiver back down on the hook.
"Aubrey…" Benji says her name again, both worried and exceptionally calm. "Do you need me to find Chloe?"
"I know where Chloe is," Aubrey snaps, "I do not need Chloe. I can take care of myself." She clutches her stomach as she stomps away from the phone, going right to the dining room. No one seems to notice her as she marches in the door and walks straight to the buffet table where Chloe is picking out food. "I need your phone."
Chloe looks at her and quickly puts their plates down on the buffet table.
"Right now," Aubrey demands.
"Okay." Chloe feels around her back pockets. "What happened? What happened to yours?" She pulls her phone out of her pocket and hands it to Aubrey.
Aubrey ignores the question. She unlocks Chloe's phone, her chest tightening as she stares at the No Signal sign in the top corner. That's not possible. Only a few hours ago, she was on the phone with Chloe's parents. Another sharp pain tears through her midsection and she presses one hand against her ribcage, her knees nearly buckling.
"Let's just…" Chloe looks around. "Let's just sit down." She wraps one of her arms around Aubrey and helps her to a table. There are none that are empty, so she leads her to were only Cynthia-Rose is sitting, and pulls out a chair. "I'll be right back."
Cynthia-Rose stares at the two of them, and Aubrey rests one of her arms on the table then lowers her head against it. How is it possible that Beca's dad and Luke could be so formidable? She doesn't even fucking like Beca. She squeezes Chloe's phone then releases it onto the table.
Chloe places their two plates on the table then sits down, dragging her chair right up against Aubrey's. She wraps an arm around her and leans forward, her lips a few centimeters from Aubrey's ear. "Did something happen outside?" she whispers.
Aubrey nods and presses her hand harder against her ribs.
"Did you throw up again?" Chloe whispers.
Aubrey nods again.
Chloe starts rubbing gentle circles on her back. "We're going to leave, and we're going to call the police," she whispers, "But we need to wait for the ferry and you need to eat. If you keep throwing up, and you don't eat, you're going to seriously hurt your stomach. I know you're scared; I'm scared, too, but you need to sit up and eat. Pull it together until we leave."
Aubrey scoots her chair in and sits up straight, finding it easier to pull herself together with the knowledge that people might be staring at her. Upon inspection, the only person looking at her is Cynthia-Rose. She pulls her chair in even closer to the table and grabs a slice of toast, forcing herself to take a bite out of it.
"Okay." Chloe turns to face the table, letting her hand rest on Aubrey's back. "Everything is okay." It sounds more like she's saying it to herself than to Aubrey. She picks up her fork with her free hand and looks at Cynthia-Rose. "We're having an emergency back home," she lies through her teeth, saving Aubrey from the embarrassment of having clearly been crying, "One of our friends was in an accident and died."
"Oh, shit," Cynthia-Rose frowns and looks back and forth between the two of them. "You two need anything?"
"No." Chloe shakes her head. "We're just gonna go home."
Aubrey takes another bite of toast and checks Chloe's phone again. Still no service. She places it back on the table and drops her hand to her lap, tapping her thumb against each of her fingers.
Chloe moves her hand from Aubrey's back to hold her hand, stroking it with her thumb.
"Aubrey and Chloe!" Fat Amy cheers approaching their table with three plates. She places them down and takes a seat next to Aubrey, her features falling once she looks at them. "Aubrey… Chloe…" she repeats, more despondently. She picks up her fork and starts eating her food.
"Does anyone have cell service?" Aubrey asks.
"Nah." Cynthia-Rose shakes her head. "We all lost service like an hour ago. They must be fixing one of the cell towers. You try the landline?"
Aubrey nods.
"Well, that's weird," Cynthia-Rose replies, "I guess they fixin' everything. This place sucks balls, Man. I hate to say it, with whatever happened to your friend, but you lucky you're going home."
"Aubrey and I are going to look for houses in Jamaica Estates," Chloe announces, changing the subject, a small smile tugging at her lips.
"Whaaaaat?" Cynthia-Rose grins at Aubrey. "You gonna put a ring on it, Aubrey? You better."
Aubrey blushes and studies the banana oatmeal on her plate.
"Is the wedding going to be before or after the Kitten Shower?" Fat Amy asks.
"We're still planning the Kitten Shower?" Stacie asks as she and Lilly sit down at their table. "I want to be in charge of party games. When are you getting this kitten?"
Aubrey opens her mouth to say they're not getting a god damn cat, but Cynthia-Rose cuts her off.
"Forget about the cat; they gettin' a house in Jamaica Estates," Cynthia-Rose says.
"Isn't that like the fancy, rich part of Queens?" Stacie asks, "Hey, do you two plan to have kids?"
"I don't know." Chloe looks at Aubrey. "Do we?"
Aubrey grabs her fork and pokes at her food. It's not that she doesn't like children. She just has some concerns regarding raising them. She tries to bypass giving a straight answer. "I don't know." She shrugs. "Do you want kids?"
Chloe nods. "Yeah," she answers, "I do."
Aubrey takes a bite of oatmeal and swallows hard.
"So, we're gonna have a kitten shower." Fat Amy counts on her fingers. "A baby shower. A dog shower."
Aubrey slams her fork down on the table. "We're not getting pets," she lays down the law, "They're too much responsibility. They're dirty. And I don't like them."
"And you gonna a have kids?" Cynthia-Rose asks incredulously.
"You have a surprise coming," Stacie adds.
Aubrey sighs and picks up her fork again.
"I wonder where Donald is with my kid." Stacie turns in her chair and looks around. "He was supposed to meet us for breakfast." She looks at Aubrey. "She has been dragging around that stuffed animal you got her since the moment you gave it to her. I had to figure out how to bathe her with it."
Aubrey smiles slightly.
"I impregnated a vampire bat," Lilly whispers.
"I think you would be good moms," Stacie says.
Cynthia-Rose nods. "I agree."
"Do they have a Mom positon at boot camp?" Beca asks, walking by their table.
"You know, why don't you fuck off, Beca?" Chloe snaps, silencing everyone at the table.
Beca turns around and raises her eyebrows. "Seriously?" she asks. She looks exhausted. No makeup. Eyes rimmed red. "You're going to tell me to be the one to fuck off? Dude, do you even know what happened last night?"
"What happened last night?" Cynthia-Rose asks.
"Yeah, I do, because I was the one picking up the pieces in the aftermath of it, Beca." Chloe stands up from her chair. "Where the hell were you?"
"Where was I?" Beca points at herself. "Are you even listening to yourself? I was outside your door, while you were texting me to leave."
"Do you even care about us, Beca?" Chloe asks.
"Chloe." Aubrey tugs at her hand. "Sit down."
Chloe yanks her hand away. "Do you?" She walks away from the table, approaching Beca. "We gave so much to you, and what did we ever get back besides an invitation to your wedding to somebody else? Do you know everything I risked for you?"
"I never asked you to risk it." Beca shrugs.
Aubrey stands up. "Chloe, it's time to go." Her arms fall helplessly to her sides and down her feet remain glued to the floor, because as much as she wants to go, this fight was a long time coming.
"Did you ever love me?" Chloe asks. "I want to know."
Beca rubs her eyes and laughs. "I don't know." She throws her hands in the air. "I don't know, Chloe."
Chloe presses her lips together and wraps her arms around herself, tears welling up in her eyes. "Tell me to my face you don't love me," she says.
Beca sucks in a breath and looks up at the ceiling, shaking her head. "You know what it is, Chloe?" She asks. She looks at her again. "You want me to love you and Aubrey. Jesus Christ, I don't even like Aubrey! Nobody likes Aubrey, except for you!"
It's not true. Aubrey swallows hard and looks at the ground. She has friends. Friends other than Chloe even. They just happen to be back home.
Fat Amy raises her hand. "Ehhh," she cuts in, "I like Aubrey."
"What are you doin', Beca?" Cynthia-Rose asks.
Beca looks at them.
"Did you ever once even just thinking about giving her a chance?" Chloe asks. "Have you ever once thought about just trying to be nice to her?"
"She is the one who is a bitch to me!" Beca yells, attracting the attention of anyone not already staring at them, "Everything out of her mouth is to tear me down!"
"You're both the same fucking way, and you act like it's all her!" Chloe raises her voice back, "You treat her like she's some sort of emotionless machine! Well, she isn't, Beca!"
"Neither am I!" Beca responds.
Chloe wipes at her eyes. "Then stop acting like you are!"
"Why am I the only one getting yelled at about this?!" Beca asks.
"You don't think she and I have already had this fight?" Chloe scrubs at her face again.
Beca slaps her side. "It clearly had an impact," she says sarcastically.
Aubrey realizes she needs to step in, but the room is starting to tilt on its axis. She grips the back of her chair, focused on convincing her stomach to hold down food.
"Clearly, it did," Chloe says, "Because she confided in you, and you dropped the ball."
"Dude, she's putting a bunch of pieces together that don't fit." Beca sniffles and quickly rubs at one of her cheeks. "It doesn't make sense that last night would have to do with anything."
"Someone is gonna need to tell us what happened last night," Cynthia-Rose says.
"After the blood on our mirror, how are you going to tell her that, Beca?" Chloe asks.
"What blood?" Beca asks, "What the fuck are you talking about?"
Chloe stares at her a moment to then turns to look at Aubrey.
Aubrey digs her fingernails into the chair and rubs her forehead with her other hand.
"Aubrey, you didn't think that was vital to tell her?" Chloe asks.
Everything feels like it's slowly turning in sideways circles.
"Sit down," Chloe commands, "Now."
Aubrey swallows the bile rising back up in her throat and sits down. She can feel Amy's hand on her back, but not much else. She rests her elbows on her knees and lowers her head into her hands, barely able to feel herself breathing. Cynthia-Rose kneels down beside her and starts trying to ply her with water. She lifts her head just enough to see Chloe through her fingers.
"What is going on?" Beca asks.
Chloe folds her arms tightly and looks back and forth between them.
Beca stares at Chloe.
Chloe sniffles and raises her arms to rub her nose. "Apologize for hitting her," she demands.
"Why would you hit her?" Stacie asks.
"She push -" Beca stops herself. "You know what? I'm sorry. Aubrey, I'm sorry I hit you. Last night was…" She shakes her head. "I shouldn't have hit you, and I'm sorry."
Aubrey slowly lifts her head. She glances at her then looks down, picking the skin from around her fingernails. Everyone is staring at them, and, honestly she would rather dissolve into the floor than listen to Beca's apology. But she listens to it anyway, because she should have told her about tripping in the woods and the blood on the mirror. She can't think of the reason she didn't. "I'm sorry, too," she says, barely able to put force behind her voice.
"Can we just go outside and talk about this?" Beca asks, glancing around.
"I think that's a good idea," Chloe answers, "Aubrey?"
Aubrey nods. As long as they don't miss the ferry. She's about to stand back up when instrumental music begins to drift through the ceiling speakers, drawing everyone's attention upward.
"What is that?" Chloe is the first one to speak. She turns in a slow circle, staring up at the ceiling.
"Wurlitzer 153, The Sidewalks of New York," Lilly murmurs.
"It sounds like a damn carousel," Cynthia-Rose says, and slowly stands up.
Aubrey grabs the back of her chair and hoists herself to her feet, a rush of adrenaline numbing the pain. She grabs Chloe's phone and stuffs it in the front pocket of her sweatshirt, alongside the pieces of her own. Her eyes scan the room for danger before she locks eyes with Beca. Something is about to happen – and she knows Beca knows it, too. "Get Chloe, and get out," she mouths.
Chloe walks over to the wall and presses her hands against it, looking up at the speaker above her.
Beca takes several steps back, not taking her eyes off of Aubrey until she is standing next to Chloe. "Chloe." She places her hands on Chloe's arm. She looks at Aubrey again.
Chloe turns and looks at her, eyebrows drawn together in confusion. Her hands find the side of Beca's shirt, her fingers entangling themselves in the fabric, and she follows Beca's gaze to Aubrey. The color slowly begins to drain from her cheeks as she studies the terror that Aubrey knows is written all over her face.
Everything feels like it's happening in slow motion. There are roughly twenty people in the room. The music increases in volume, and some of them stand and look around, while others sit and speak in hushed, bewildered whispers. None of them seem particularly alarmed. Aubrey doesn't care. Doesn't look to see who they are. There is only one person that she needs to get out of this building, and she needs her to leave now. "I love you," she tells Chloe. Chloe's eyes widen in fear, and Aubrey doesn't feel at all like she's overreacting when she says, "Run."