- Part 1 -
Arrhythmia
Feels like I'm falling,
Into a world,
Into a world I can't control.
I hear it calling,
Down in my soul.
Grippin' my bones,
It won't let go.
-Ruelle
"I don't understand why you don't want to go to the airport with me," Chloe said, "Or why you haven't talked to my mom in months." She zipped up her jacket and dug her gloves out of the pocket. "My parents are going to be here for a week. You're going to have to speak to them at some point, Aubrey."
Aubrey begged to differ, and she was going to prove her point to by showing Chloe that she didn't even have to talk to her. She flipped to the next page in her text book then took a sip of her coffee.
"Are you fucking serious right now?" Chloe placed her hands on her hips.
Dixie Chicks serious. Aubrey pulled one of her feet up onto the kitchen chair and feigned highly intrigued by all that her book had to offer – which was nothing, because it was Christmas break and she already knew all of the review material.
Chloe leaned forward and flipped the book shut.
"I was reading that." It wasn't a lie. Aubrey had been reading it before Chloe got out of bed and started bothering her about going to LaGuardia to pick up her parents.
"No, you were ignoring what I was saying," Chloe said.
"So?" Aubrey asked.
"It's rude."
Aubrey frowned at her words. What did she think slamming her book shut was?
"Look, I get that you were embarrassed after calling her when we all were drunk, but you're being unreasonable. My mom loves you, and she's done a lot for you, Aubrey. Shutting her out is kind of a dick move."
Aubrey sat back against the chair, dwelling on the words that Chloe had no doubt picked up from Beca.
"Whatever. We'll talk about it later. I'm going to be late." Chloe held out her hand. "I need your keys."
"Yours are hanging by the door," Aubrey informed her, "Where they belong." She had found them in the couch cushions that morning. Again.
"I know where they are," Chloe replied, "I'm out of gas."
Aubrey eyed her suspiciously, finding that hard to believe when just two days ago, Chloe had taken and filled up both cars. She picked up her keys from beside her mug and handed them over.
Chloe closed her fingers around them. "And I want to make sure you're still here when I get back." She heaved a sigh and took a few steps back. "I'll be back in a bit. I love you."
It made sense that Chloe trusted Aubrey wouldn't just take her car and run off with it. Chloe currently had a stick shift, and Aubrey absolutely hated it. Could she drive it? Yes. Did she want to? She would rather be run over by a taxi. Aubrey rose from her seat and closed the distance between herself and Chloe. "Be safe. It's snowing."
"You could always go with me," Chloe mumbled into her shoulder.
Aubrey took a step back. "Text me when you get there."
Chloe pecked her lips. "Fine."
xxxxx
Thud.
Aubrey's eyes fly open and her lungs stop working. "Chloe?" She instinctively pulls her closer to make sure she's okay. She doesn't remember falling asleep. When did she lie down? As Chloe moans in protest and snuggles in closer to her, the deputy picks up the book he dropped on the table and drops it again with another loud noise. Monopoly pieces scatter everywhere. This time, Beca starts to stir.
"Rise and shine," he says, "We're going to the kitchen."
Aubrey blinks away sleep and props herself up on her elbow, hearing his instruction, but not quite understanding it. For a moment, she thinks he's talking about the dining room, and her heart rate goes into overdrive as images of the bodies flash through her mind. But then the word 'kitchen' sinks in, and she remembers the dishes and frosting and Beca and Jesse walking in on her and Chloe being adventurous. The fog isn't clearing from her head quite as quickly as she needs it to.
"We're going to starve, Aubrey," Fat Amy talks at her and makes wild hand motions.
"You're not going to starve," Beca mutters and stretches out, accidentally kicking Aubrey in the back, "Go back to playing Monopoly."
"We almost got killed during breakfast and now we're missing lunch," Fat Amy replies.
"And some of us didn't sleep last night," Beca says, "We all have problems." She rolls over and tucks her face into the back of the couch.
"Aubrey," Fat Amy whines.
What time is it? Aubrey reaches for her phone in her back pocket. But it's not there. It's not there, because it's broken. She looks around for a clock. Fat Amy is right, she realizes as her stomach starts to cramp up against now that she's awake. They all need to get food in them. She's just going to regret waking up Chloe. "Beca," she draws in her attention first because she's already awake.
"Are you serious right now?" Beca slowly pushes herself into a sitting position, gripping the back of the couch. "No one is going to starve. And if we do, it isn't like we aren't all going to die anyway."
Jesse kneels down beside the couch. "Bec, come on, we're not going to die. There's a police officer here with us."
"Great, I feel so much safer." Beca gives him a sarcastic smile. "Safe enough that I'm going back to sleep until we get blown up too."
Aubrey takes a moment to collect herself then shakes Chloe's shoulder. "Chloe, we're going to eat lunch." The thought is less appealing to her mind than it is to her stomach. Cynthia-Rose is dead, Sophia is missing, and they're playing Monopoly and raiding the kitchen. She shakes her again.
Chloe rolls onto her back with a giant yawn and stretches, accidentally jamming her foot into Beca as she arches her back.
Beca exhales a short puff of air and glares at her.
"Get up," Aubrey says, the words directed at both of them. She crawls over Chloe and stands up, immediately straightening the back of her shirt over the gun. It takes a quick count to make sure all of them are still there and accounted for. They are. For now, the words creep into her thoughts, for now.
xxxxx
"Where were you?" Chloe asked, not hiding the edge in her tone.
Aubrey slipped off her boots by the door. "The café," she answered, "Reading." Her scarf and jacket came off next, and she hung them up on the coat rack.
"For seven hours?" Chloe asked.
Aubrey shrugged. She had gone to the café to read, and then she and Brian had decided to take the train into Manhattan and go sight-seeing, which had turned into a visit to Rockefeller Center and a few hours of browsing the Christmas village. Seeing as Chloe had her car, it took extra time to wait for the train – not that she didn't intend to be gone for so long anyway. She definitely did. Book in hand, she turned to walk to her bedroom to spend the rest of the night hiding out in there.
"There's no need to fight, Girls," Mrs. Beale said, "Aubrey doesn't need to be tied to the place just because we're here." She smiled at Aubrey as she walked past. Softly. Concerned. "Hi, Aubrey."
"Hey, Champ," Chloe's dad added.
Aubrey offered them a forced smile and a silent nod of acknowledgment then shut herself in her room. It was quiet in her room – uncomfortably so. She placed her book back on her bookshelf then sat down at her desk and looked at her things – notebooks, sticky notes, pens and pencils – all organized to perfection. Nothing to put away. Nothing to keep her occupied. She pulled a pencil out of the yellow cup on her desk then put it back again.
There was a soft knock on her door.
Aubrey glanced over, remaining silent.
Sometimes, Aubrey wondered if Chloe was born with a disregard for the privacy of others or if she learned it from her parents. Mrs. Beale opened the door and poked her head in then smiled at Aubrey and let herself inside, shutting the door behind her. "Wooow," she enthused, looking around Aubrey's room, "Look at this. How does it feel to have your own place?"
It took a moment of staring at the closed door to accept that this woman had simply let herself in and trapped Aubrey with her presence. She frowned and turned her chair around to face her.
"What?" Mrs. Beale asked and took a seat on the edge of the bed, "You're not talking to me anymore?"
It wouldn't be polite to outright say no. Aubrey looked down at her hands for a few seconds then glanced back up at her without lifting her head. If this was Chloe, she would have flat out told her to leave. But the thought of telling Mrs. Beale to get out of her room made her stomach heavy. So, she said nothing and waited for her to leave.
"Alright, alright, that's fine," Mrs. Beale said, "You don't want to talk. Chloe can never stop talking. That has to balance itself out somehow." A brief, ghost of a smile turned the corners of her lips upward again. "We can just sit then." She grabbed a few of Aubrey's pillows and stacked them on top of one another then turned and got comfortable on Aubrey's bed. "I imagine Chloe put those stars on your ceiling. She stuck those things all over her room growing up – even on the floor once. She said she wanted to feel like she was walking through space or something, and it took hours to pull the sticky tack out of the carpet. That girl." She shook her head. "Very strange logic sometimes. I only found out because she had the lights turned off and tripped over a chair."
Aubrey looked at the door again. She could get up and just leave. But she had been out all day, and this was her room. Hiding out in Chloe's room would just be an invitation for Chloe to get on her about everything. She pulled her legs up to sit crisscross on the chair and absently rubbed her hands together, trying to warm them up.
"You know I thought that phone call you gave me was funny," Mrs. Beale said, "But I can understand why you would feel embarrassed and want to avoid me."
There was a bitter taste in the back of Aubrey's mouth and her stomach clenched. She had never thrown up in front of Mrs. Beale before and she wasn't about to start now. In an effort to hide the feeling, she pulled her knees up closer to her chest and tucked the lower half of her face against them.
"I just hope that you will move past it." Mrs. Beale sat up again and stretched her back before she stood. "Because it would be very sad to lose our relationship all because of some harmless phone call." She approached the chair and pulled Aubrey sideways into a hug. "Once during a too-much-wine night, I was mad at Dad and tried to text him that I was going to kill him for the life insurance money. I wish I could say I was lying to make you feel better when I say I accidentally sent it to his mother." She pressed her lips against the top of Aubrey's head.
There was a sudden rage building inside of Aubrey that replaced the nausea in her stomach with an even worse feeling. "He is not my father," she snapped and pulled back, nearly toppling sideways out of her chair – but Mrs. Beale caught her by the arm. She yanked her arm away. Honestly, compared to the sudden fury, she would rather feel like she was going to puke. "And you are not my mother." The words slipped out, and sheer dread filled her bones, made her muscles stiff. She waited for the counterattack.
Mrs. Beale didn't even look angry. She didn't look sad. Didn't look offended. She looked calm – like the sudden outburst had somehow been thrown right past her. Ball 1. "I'm going to tell you the same thing I've told my kids," she said, "I may not be your real mom, but I have a very real love for you." She reached out to touch Aubrey's hair, allowing her hand to fall to her side when Aubrey backed away from the physical contact. "Okay. I'll leave you alone for now, but we aren't done with this conversation, Aubrey."
Aubrey spun her chair around to face her desk again as Mrs. Beale walked away. She counted down in her head, waited until she heard the sound of the bottom of her door brushing against her carpet, then swiped her arm across her desk. Pens. Pencils. Her stapler. A box of paperclips. All of them scattered across the floor in the blink of an eye, just as she realized what she was doing. Her chest heaved, anxiety over the mess propelling her mindset from fury to wanting to vomit again.
"That's a lot of fear and anger you have, Baby Girl," Mrs. Beale said, the door not quite shut, "That's a lot of fear and anger."
xxxxx
"What the fuck are we supposed to eat?" Beca asks and shoves open the kitchen door.
Chloe catches the door as it swings and makes sure it doesn't fly back and hit Aubrey in the face. The person behind Aubrey, Fat Amy, isn't quite as lucky, because Aubrey isn't just going to stand around holding doors for people.
Beca poses a good question. Ten people, eleven including the deputy, is too many to cook for in this case. They're going to have to settle for whatever each of them can scavenge or something simple. Sandwiches or something, maybe. Aubrey walks around the kitchen and takes in her surroundings – running her fingers along the edge of one of the counter tops. She can still taste the icing on Chloe's neck. "We need to check the pantry and see what's reasonable," she says, "And maybe think about how to ration." If they're stuck here for an extended period of time, they're going to need food.
"There's a walk-in cooler," Chloe says from the opposite side of the room. She cups her hands against the door window and tries to peer inside. "Does anyone else think it's weird that the sheriff hasn't come back yet?" She lets her hands fall and leans sideways against the door.
"Maybe he found some people alive," Jesse suggests and pulls open the door to the pantry. "Looks like a lot of bread and canned fruit."
"Or maybe he's dead," Stacie says.
"Watch your mouth," Barney warns her.
Stacie turns to face him. "Or what?" she asks, "I know your type. All bark and no bite…"
"Everyone on that dock was burnt to a crisp," Beca says, "There was no one getting out of there."
"We can make sandwiches and fruit salad," Aubrey decides. There is a large metal bowl hanging from a hook attached to the ceiling, and she pulls it down. Both are easy and should be enough to sustain them for the time being. She clangs the bowl down on the counter to make sure she has everyone's attention. "No more wasting time just standing around. I know most of you have been fast food workers, so I'm setting a mental timer for ten minutes." This kitchen, with one way in and one way out, is the last place she wants to be.
Chloe is the only one who moves. She pulls open the freezer door and looks inside.
"Let's go," Aubrey demands.
Jesse pulls a loaf of bread off a shelf in the pantry. "This is what you voted for?" he mumbles to Beca.
"Do you have something to say?" Aubrey asks, sick of the off-hand comments.
Jesse looks up for a fraction of a second, staring at Aubrey like he has no idea what she's talking about. He shakes his head and opens the bread.
"Then shut it," Aubrey snaps.
Everyone, excluding the deputy who apparently doesn't want to earn a share of food, gets to work opening fruit, finding utensils, what needs to be done. Aubrey shoves the bowl toward Lilly and walks across the kitchen toward Chloe and the freezer to look for meat and cheese. "What do we have?" she asks, only to be met with silence. She snaps her fingers in Chloe's direction. "Chloe. Pay attention. I asked what we have."
Chloe turns and places her hands on Aubrey's chest, pushing her backward a few steps out of the freezer. She grabs Aubrey's arm and tries to turn her around, back toward the kitchen, but Aubrey pulls herself out of Chloe's grip and walks around her, further into the freezer room. "Aubrey…" she whispers.
At first, Aubrey thinks the problem is the hog hanging by its two back legs from a hook on the ceiling. It isn't exactly the most pleasant sight, but it isn't alarming either. Where else would they put it before roasting it? She grabs packages of ham and turkey from a shelf, pausing for a moment when she actually looks at the animal. She has to squint through the dim light in order to see it hanging there, all the way against the back wall. Her eyesight in the dark has never been quite as good as Chloe's. But she isn't blind either. The pig is exactly where it should be – the butcher knife driven into the space between its eyes, however, is a little more of a cause for concern. "Turn on the light."
Chloe doesn't move.
Aubrey faces her. "Turn on the light," she demands again.
Chloe slowly lifts her hand, but rather than flipping the light switch, she rests her palm over it. "You have what you need." She swallows like she's about to either start crying again or throw up – looking unsettlingly wan in the shadow of the doorway. "Go, and I'll grab cheese."
"It's just a pig." It's just a dead pig with a knife lodged into its skull. Aubrey knocks Chloe's hand out of her way and flips on the switch. Bright, fluorescent lights illuminate the freezer. She turns around, blocking Chloe's view of what was probably meant to be their dinner at some point in the week with her body, and assesses the hog. It isn't until she sees the knife slashes in its side that Chloe's suggestion she leave and allow Chloe to remain in the freezer with the thing to gather cheese strikes her. Her name glares at her. 'AUBREY'. The letters are jagged. Angry. Painted over in red, flaking blood, highlighting each cut through the pig's skin, creating visibility. Resembling the word 'CRAZY' in their taunting manner. They numb her from the inside out.
Chloe is silent, and Aubrey can just barely feel her hand on her lower back.
How long has it been hanging there, just waiting for someone to see it? Aubrey grabs a package of cheese – doesn't care what kind it is. She turns, shoves everything she's holding into Chloe's arms, and forces her out of the freezer. "Go make sandwiches." She turns off the freezer light and shuts the door. Her hand lingers on the front of the door as she struggles to keep her bearings, and she isn't sure what makes her dizzier – the hog or how far away Chloe seems. "The faster we eat, the faster we can leave."
"Leave where, Aubrey? Where do you plan to go?"
"Chlo," Beca calls to her. Everyone is starting to look at them – or at the food Chloe is holding, at least. "We're about to eat just bread over here."
Chloe looks back and forth between them then walks backward toward Beca. "Here." She drops the food on the counter then wipes her hands on her shirt. For a moment, she stares at the floor, appearing to just be taking a few breaths.
Aubrey glances at the freezer door. Her reflection in the window startles her until she realizes she's looking at herself. She's disheveled, to say the very least, at least for her – dark circles under her eyes, hair not quite brushed to perfection, clothes still damp and sticking to her body. She tries to look past herself to see inside the freezer, but she can only see darkness. When she turns around again, Chloe has started to help make sandwiches and is mumbling to Beca.
Jesse walks over to her. He grabs the door handle and pulls.
Aubrey's reflexes kick in. She places her hand flat against the door and slams it closed with enough force to rattle the kitchen.
"We need mayonnaise." Jesse tugs on the door again, his frown taking up half his face when Aubrey leans all of her weight into keeping it closed.
"Mayonnaise doesn't need to be refrigerated until after its opened," Aubrey points out, "If there was mayonnaise, it would be out here."
"Well, there isn't any out here," Jesse says slowly, "So maybe someone opened some and put it in the refrigerator." He tries, unsuccessfully, to open the door again. He turns to Beca. "Bec…"
"I don't know who you want me to raise my hand and tell, Jesse," Beca says, not looking up from the sandwiches, "We don't need mayonnaise that bad."
"That's not the point," Jesse says.
"Dude, then just walk away from her," Beca tells him, smiling in irritation, "It's not that hard."
"She would know, wouldn't she?" Jesse asks Aubrey so quietly that she barely hears it. But she does hear it. And the words strike a nerve, even though that's clearly not what Beca meant.
There is a brief image in Aubrey's mind where she opens the door and allows him in halfway, then she slams it shut and smashes his entire body between the door and the wall. It kind of makes her sick right now. She raises her eyebrows at him, daring him to keep going.
"Move," Jesse says and continues to pull on the door.
Beca slams two slices of bread down on the counter. "Walk away from her, Jesse."
"Make me." The words slip out of Aubrey's mouth in a desperate effort to feel in charge of the situation. She pushes his chest. Hard. Hard enough to cause him to stumble. There is a rush of panic and adrenaline that races right through her, and she braces herself against the door again before he can recover and open it. Chloe doesn't scold her like she half expects her to, but she shouldn't be surprised with what's behind that door. Everyone just stops what they're doing and stares, and she can't help but think this would be the prime time for the deputy to step in and make Jesse back down.
"Do you think I'm going to push you back?" Jesse asks, "What is wrong with you?" He gives the door another hard pull that Aubrey has to practically slam her entire body against to counteract.
"Guys, stop," Beca snaps at both of them and walks around the counter, "Don't we have enough problems right now without making a big deal out of over whether or not we have some fucking condiments?" She stops next to Aubrey. "Aubrey, if he wants mayonnaise, just let him check for his stupid mayonnaise."
"Mustard would also be nice," Fat Amy chimes in.
Aubrey turns to face Beca, leaning her back against the door. "There isn't any mayonnaise," she informs her, "I already checked."
"What about the mustard?" Fat Amy asks.
"Oookay," Beca breathes slowly and turns to Jesse, "So just let it go, Jesse."
Jesse doesn't budge. He doesn't even acknowledge that he heard what Beca said. He stares at Aubrey – absolutely silent – like she's a puzzle that he's trying to piece together inside his head, then looks at the window on the freezer, only his reflection staring back at him.
Aubrey can feel her chest heaving as she forces herself to take slow, even breaths. She looks at his reflection as well, instead of directly at him, reading the suspicion in his expression.
"What's in the freezer?" Jesse asks.
xxxxx
Christmas was going to suck. Not that it didn't usually suck. It did. Growing up, Aubrey never understood why the kids at school looked forward to it so eagerly. Every year, it was exactly the same. Her mother would dress them all up and hire a photographer, and they would all put on a face and take pictures that would be turned into postcards and mailed to family members and her parents' coworkers. She would decorate the tree and tell them all not to touch it, while her father complained he just didn't get the point as he covered the house in lights. Their house was always the most impressive; they won multiple contests for their decorations, which Aubrey always assumed was the point. And then that was it. They would go about their business in an overly-decorated house until Christmas day when they would tediously peel the wrapping paper off their gifts (ripping it would have sent her mother into cardiac arrest) and have dinner with all of their extended family.
Back then, Aubrey had simply considered it necessary and boring. Looking back at it years later, after seeing how Christmas operated for the Beales, it sucked. And now this Christmas would suck too, because she was a Posen and should accept that. Chloe's family was not her family, no matter how persistently they insisted. No, her family was in Virginia, in their brightly lit house that looked like it belonged on the cover of a home improvement magazine. She should be there too – but, instead, she was in Queens, estranged from all of them, the Posens and the Beales.
Chloe's family didn't do pictures and lights the same was hers did. They had photo album upon photo album of candids. Chloe's dad still used disposable cameras and was content to snap pictures whenever, and of whatever, he pleased. He didn't even seem to care if they came out blurry. Into the album they went. And Mrs. Beale sort of just draped lights wherever she could convince them to stay. And, according to Chloe, it had always been the kids' job to decorate the tree. They wore matching pajamas and watched old Christmas movies. Chloe's dad liked to decorate gingerbread men, and they would make their own ornaments out of Play-Doh and go out Christmas caroling. Hearing stories about it all was one thing, but experiencing it all for the first time made Aubrey dizzy. Every day, something new was happening, and it all looked enticing, and it all made her sick.
Aubrey stared at the stars on her ceiling, listening to The Polar Express play in the living room, one hundred thoughts swirling around in her head all at the same time. She was too engrossed in trying to imagine her father and mother having the Beale's blithe disposition, and being completely unable to, to notice her door open.
"I think it's a rare moment to see you doing absolutely nothing," Mrs. Beale said softly and closed the door behind her.
Aubrey jumped and scrambled upright, pulling her blankets up around her. She should have been used to this – the lack of knocking – but at least she always heard Chloe from a mile away before she came barging in. Her heart pounced in her chest, even as she calmed down and breathed a little slower once it sunk in that it was simply Chloe's mom.
"I just came to check on you," she explained, "You're very quiet in here all by yourself." She looked at Aubrey and smiled.
It took a moment for Aubrey to realize that the blankets weren't completely covering her pajama shirt and she quickly tried to wrap them around her shoulders, accidentally uncovering her legs in the process. She didn't know what had possessed her to wear the matching pajamas that had been slipped into her room earlier that evening. She could reason that they looked warm and comfortable, but maybe she just didn't want to give up the tradition that the Beales had included her in for years – since she and Chloe became friends. Or maybe the thought of everyone in the living room wearing the same thing while she was in something else didn't feel right. She stopped fussing with the blankets as they started to tangle up around her and make her feel claustrophobic. Who cared if she was wearing the same red shirt and polar bear printed pants as the woman in front of her? They were just stupid pajamas.
"How are you doing?" Mrs. Beale asked, "You don't want to come out and watch a movie with Chlo?"
It wasn't watching a movie with Chloe that was the problem. Aubrey twisted a lose string from her comforter around her finger and shook her head. She could tell her to leave, just snap at her to get out. But the thought caused her heart to beat even harder and her lungs to constrict in the same way they did when Mrs. Beale scared her by walking in the room.
"Alright, crack a deal with me here, Aubrey," Mrs. Beale said, her smile fading, "Talk to me about one thing, and then I will let you be for the rest of the time I'm here. Deal?"
Aubrey unraveled the string from around her finger and watched the color of her skin return to normal.
"Or I could keep coming into your room." Mrs. Beale approached her bed and sat down on the edge. "And bother you even more." She reached to run her fingers over Aubrey's hair, leaning over farther as Aubrey leaned away, successful in her endeavor. "Deal?" she asked again.
Aubrey swallowed harder and nodded, trying to ignore the lingering feeling of her fingers in her hair.
"Good." Mrs. Beale adjusted the pillows on the bed then settled back against them. She patted the space between her and the wall. "You have to actually engage with me for this to count."
Aubrey glanced down at the bed and stubbornly remained sitting up. She shifted so she was crisscross with her back against the wall instead, her legs creating a barrier between them. "What do you want to know?" she asked. That had to count as engaging.
"Hm." Mrs. Beale looked up at the ceiling. "Chloe told me you went to the zoo here in Queens this summer. What was your favorite part?"
Aubrey looked up, taken aback by the question. She was a little surprised Mrs. Beale had heard about that. Chloe hadn't gone. She and Beca had stumbled across it purely on accident and told Chloe about it later on.
"Come on, you had to have a favorite part," Mrs. Beale pressed and bumped Aubrey's knee with her elbow. "What did you like the most?"
"The mountain lions," Aubrey answered, still dwelling on the question itself being asked, "They were surprisingly active for being Crepuscular."
"And in English, that means…?"
"They only hunt at dusk and dawn," Aubrey explained.
"Ah." Mrs. Beale nodded. "Are those your favorite animal? Mountain Lions?"
Aubrey shook her head. God forbid her favorite animal by some type of cat. If that were the case, Chloe would have figured it out by then and used it against her for her own cat-loving agenda. "The Maned Wolf is my favorite, but they didn't have any of those." She paused, but Mrs. Beale remained silent, just looking at her. "They're not actually wolves," she continued, trying to fill the silence, "They're actually the only member of the genus Chrysocyon. They're also Crepuscular sometimes, but generally they're nocturnal." She always felt like she was answering whatever question Mrs. Beale asked her, but somehow it was never by saying any of the right things. "I like them because they were probably one of the only large canids to survive the ice age." There were many other reasons, but that one was simple and might be interesting to someone else.
"Not because they look like foxes on stilts?" she asked, her brows quirking in amusement.
"Their legs are probably so disproportionate because they evolved to see over tall grass while hunting," Aubrey informed her. She bit the inside of her lower lip to prevent herself from talking anymore. No one wanted to know about the evolution of Chrysocyon Brachyurus. Especially not Chloe's mom. She had already heard enough of Aubrey's 'fun facts' regarding dinosaurs.
"Where do they live that they need to see over such tall grass?" she asked.
"South America," Aubrey answered. She bit her lip harder this time.
"So, you went to the zoo and you saw Mountain Lions with Beca," Mrs. Beale said, "That must have been an experience for you."
Aubrey blinked. "I've seen Mountain Lions before," she stated, "In the wild." She had seen one once with Chloe during a visit to see her brother. She had been driving through the woods and it was lurking in the bushes. She had nearly missed it, and Chloe was disappointed because she hadn't seen it at all. That was far more of an experience than seeing them at the zoo.
"I meant going to the zoo with Beca," Mrs. Beale rephrased herself, "A little birdy once told me that you don't like Beca."
"You said tell you about one thing," Aubrey pointed out. Technically, they had already talked about two. Mountain Lions and Maned Wolves. She had already given Mrs. Beale twice the amount she asked for. Realizing that she was picking the skin around her fingernails, she tucked her hands beneath her legs. "You can leave now." She tensed at her own words and waited for the repercussions.
"I guess you're right. A deal is a deal." Mrs. Beale sat up then climbed off the bed.
Aubrey looked up at her, the word 'wait' clinging to the tip of her tongue.
"You look like you have a question." Mrs. Beale placed a hand on Aubrey's nightstand and leaned against it.
Aubrey did have a question before she left. One she had been dwelling on for awhile now. It was a stupid question. Not because she already knew the answer, but because she wasn't sure she actually wanted to know. She had already told herself that she wasn't going to ask it, but she also had told herself there would never be a moment to ask it. It was such a stupid question. Just thinking about it made her want to sink down into the crack between her bed and the wall and never come back up. She took a breath that didn't really steel her as much as she hoped it would. "Do you like Beca?"
Mrs. Beale didn't hesitate. It was like she already knew then question long before Aubrey asked it. "You know, I don't really know Beca beyond the things Chlo tells me and meeting her at the ICCAs and graduation," she said, speaking slowly, not taking her eyes off Aubrey, "But I think the answer depends on what you're really asking me here, Aubrey. Are you asking me if I like Beca as a person?" She lowered her voice, speaking in a gentle whisper. "Or are you trying to ask me if I like Beca more than I like you?"
That was the real question, wasn't it? Aubrey stared forward at the wall and waited for the crack between her bed and the wall to just dissolve her.
"You're always so hard on yourself, Aubrey." Mrs. Beale sat back down on the bed, scooting back until they were shoulder to shoulder. "It must be exhausting, feeling like you have to compete with her. Never getting a break from it. Trust me, I know how much Chloe talks about her. You know what I think?"
Aubrey blinked away the blurriness in her vision and subtly located the paper can in her room, her stomach tying itself into knots.
"I think," she continued, "That Chloe has a lot of needs that not just one person can meet for her. Not me, not her dad, not her brother, not you, not Beca, not any one person, and she's trying to figure out a way to deal with that. I don't think, however, that you need to worry so much about Beca. It's either going to work itself out or it isn't, and if it doesn't, I think that will be between Chloe and Beca, not Chloe and you."
How often did two people who met during their freshman year of college last forever? That's what Aubrey wondered.
"You're both still so young. Give her this time to figure things out. Give yourself time to figure things out. I'm not saying either of you should go out there and be unfaithful to each other. If either of you decide cheating is a good option, I will kill you. But it's okay to explore your feelings toward people, to discover yourself a little more. You can tie yourselves down when you're thirty. She's just trying to figure herself out, Aubrey, just like you. Her path just isn't one that either of us are going to fully figure out."
Somehow they got off course from the actual question, and Aubrey couldn't find where they steered off the path. "I already know who I am," she said.
"Do you now?"
Aubrey nodded. She was going to finish Law School and become a lawyer. That's who she was.
"Well, then you are the only person in the world who has it all figured out," she said.
Aubrey frowned. That was a lie. Plenty of people had themselves all figured out. Her father, for one. He knew exactly who he was. He grew up knowing who he wanted to be, and then he became it. She would be the same.
"Chloe is happy here, Aubrey. She's happy with Queens. She's happy with you…"Mrs. Beale turned sideways and rested her head against the wall.
"I kissed Beca." Aubrey stopped sitting on her hands and dug her thumbnail into her palm. Technically, it had been Beca who had kissed her, but it was confusing just the same. Beca might have been part of Chloe's path to self-discovery or whatever, but she definitely was not meant to be part of Aubrey's life at all. She got in the way. She was a distraction. Hadn't Chloe started off as distraction? That was different. Aubrey was bound to find a significant other eventually. Sure, it was a little weird that that person was Chloe rather than someone her father had arranged for her to love, but…
"Really?"
"You already know," Aubrey all but snapped. It was be ignorant to think that Chloe hadn't told her.
"You're right." Mrs. Beale touched her hair again, moving it so it fell over Aubrey's shoulder. "How was that?"
"I didn't like it." Aubrey hadn't exactly disliked it either. Her stomach rolled and she was forced to focus on Mrs. Beale stroking her hair to take her mind off of it. "I didn't like it, okay?" She wasn't sure which one of them she was trying to convince. For God's sake, she didn't fucking like Beca. At all. She needed to get away from thoughts of Beca, and she bolted forward, convincing herself she could physically escape her own head.
"Whoa." Mrs. Beale leaned forward and caught her, pulling her back. "Aubrey, hey. No one here is saying that you have to like Beca."
Aubrey immediately set out to fight her off. Didn't even think about it first. She quickly twisted out of her hold, panicking as she grabbed her arms – somehow managing to still be gentle in her firm grip. She tried to get her legs between the two of them, but Mrs. Beale managed to twist her sideways and get both arms around her. She was warm and comfortable, not like her own mother whose touch sometimes made her want to crawl out of her own skin, and that was the real problem here – far beyond a drunk truth or dare call. It was that she was so okay with everything Aubrey did and she was too warm and too comfortable.
"Bunny, stop." Mrs. Beale gave Aubrey a tight squeeze. "Stop."
She wasn't angry about the call. She wasn't mad that Aubrey had blocked her out afterward. She wasn't even upset that Aubrey was trying so rigorously to get away from her. Aubrey gave one last jolt in the opposite direction then froze, her efforts futile. She stared at the wall, clutching her hands together to hide their trembling, and lifted her jaw. She was making a fool of herself. In front of a person of authority, nonetheless. She cleared her throat to try to make a sniffle more subtle and refused to blink as tears started clinging to her eyelashes. She didn't even know what she was angry over anymore – Beca or Chloe's mom refusing to just let her alone. Or maybe it was neither of those things. "You just wanted to talk about the zoo so you could ask about Beca." Her heart felt heavy in her chest. That was it. That was what had sent her off.
It shouldn't have come as a surprise. That's all anyone wanted to talk about. They wanted to talk about how she single-handedly won the ICCAs. About how she would lead the Bellas into a new era. About her and Chloe. The corners of her lips twitched, and for a moment she thought she might burst into laughter believing someone wanted to just chat about her day at the zoo. She had actually entertained such a fatuous conversation about Mountain Lions and Maned Wolves.
"No," Mrs. Beale denied it, "I wanted to hear about the zoo, and from there I wanted to check up on you." She rubbed Aubrey's arm, reminding her how close they were sitting. "Not everything has to be this competition. There is nothing to win here, Aubrey. We can keep talking about the zoo, if you want."
Aubrey had to blink. Her eyes were burning. Nothing to win. Right. Her question had never even been answered, which was answer enough. "Why would I want to talk about the zoo?" She wasn't child. She squirmed, trying to break free of her hold again. They could talk about the zoo if Chloe's mom really wanted. They could talk about the small cages that didn't cover nearly as many square miles as each animal's natural habitat. Or the nervous pacing the animals did as everyone stared at them. They could talk about the New York summers that were too hot for the polar bears or the winters that were too cold for anything that was meant to live in Africa. "I'm going to watch the movie with Chloe." She forced a smile at her.
"Would you like an answer to your question first?" Mrs. Beale asked.
Aubrey shook her head and tried to at least maneuver herself onto her knees.
Mrs. Beale squeezed her again, holding her still in place. "You do not have to compete for anyone with the last name of Beale. Do you understand?"
Aubrey nodded, her nostrils flaring as she remained hyper-focused on attempting to get away.
"Aubrey."
"Yes, Ma'am." The words left her mouth by instinct and she made eye contact without really looking at her, nodding again. "I understand." She should have said that the first time. Her chest tightened.
"I'm not looking for a 'yes, ma'am'," Mrs. Beale said, her frown causing her forehead to wrinkle.
Aubrey tensed, not sure what else there was.
"I'm looking for you to just take some breaths here, Bunny," Mrs. Beale told her, "Just, take a few breaths."
Aubrey had to check herself just to make sure she was breathing and not somehow unintentionally holding her breath. Her confusion must have been evident, because Chloe's mom gave her a half smile.
"Figurative breaths," she explained.
Oh. Those. Aubrey stilled her body and quickly wiped her hands across her cheeks before dropping them to her lap. She swallowed the lump forming in the back of her throat then focused on her real, literal breaths, and stared down at the bed. It took a moment for her to get a better grip in herself and realize the position she was in wasn't all that threatening – but rather one she was okay relaxing into for a moment. She had missed out on how many days of this, whatever this with Chloe's parents was. She sniffled again, letting Mrs. Beale's words sink in.
"You're a good kid, Aubrey." Mrs. Beale pressed a kiss to her temple. "Maned Wolf. I'm going to remember that's your favorite. Do you want to go watch the rest of the movie now?"
Aubrey shook her head.
"Do you want to, just, sit here for a few moments?" Mrs. Beale asked.
Aubrey nodded, trying to seem nonchalant about it.
"Good." Mrs. Beale rubbed her arm again. "Because I have seen that stupid movie five thousand times, but I have barely seen you since I got here." She wiped Aubrey's cheeks with her palm. "You know what?"
Aubrey shook her head again.
"You really are a good kid."
xxxxx
In an ideal world, this is when Aubrey would finally, finally wake up. She doesn't even have to wake up at home. It could, at the very least, be on the couch in the inn with Chloe.
"Can't you leave whatever it is just be?" Beca asks, "Is riling her up really necessary?" She shoves the bread across the counter, closer to Chloe, and makes her way over toward them.
The way Beca says it bothers Aubrey. Like Aubrey has no self-control in the way she reacts to Jesse. She has plenty self-control. Right now especially. "Nothing," she tells Jesse. She takes a breath. Calm. Cool. Collected. Crippled with discomfort and fear. The room is agonizingly quiet and still. She involuntarily jumps as Beca accidentally brushes against her arm, then tells herself Beca couldn't have felt it.
"Okay, look." Beca steps in front of Aubrey and places her hand on the door handle. "How about I go in and check for what we need, and then everyone is happy?"
"Fine." Aubrey can live with that. Beca will find out about what's behind the door one way or another anyway. They have a deal. They both look at Jesse for an agreement.
Jesse shakes his head.
"Seriously?" Beca asks.
"I want to see what's in the freezer." Jesse nods toward the door. "Get out of the way, Bec."
"Aubrey," Chloe says quietly to get her attention. "Come on," she mouths and holds her hand out toward her.
Aubrey stares at her.
Chloe keeps her hand out. "It's okay," she says silently.
Okay? Aubrey tries to speak with her eyes, because Chloe is insane if she thinks stepping away from this door even a centimeter is okay. But there don't appear to be a lot of other options, because if she holds her ground, she might spend the rest of her life guarding some stupid door. Literally, the rest of her life.
"Aubrey, please." Chloe beckons her closer.
Aubrey looks at Jesse and then at everyone staring at them. If she has to start thinking about how she wants to spend her last few moments, she knows that this isn't it. She runs her fingers through her hair, practically pulling on it. "Fine." So what if everyone knows this is somehow about her? She reasons that they all might be dead soon anyway. She shoves herself away from the door and gravitates backward toward Chloe. She can feel the pull toward her like it's a physical magnetism, and she doesn't stop walking until Chloe grabs her by the arm. She grabs the counter, feeling like her legs are about to collapse.
Beca drops her hand from the handle and shoots Aubrey a questioning look – as if Aubrey can somehow send her back a silent answer.
Jesse pulls open the freezer door and reaches inside to turn on the lights.
"Maybe it's best if people know the things we know," Chloe whispers in her ear, "This isn't your fault. You didn't do anything wrong, Aubrey. It's not like you put it there. Everything is going to be okay."