Bechloe-bible-49: Yes.
ChaubreyAndBrittana: Heh. Thanks.
Pixie1913: Even if she does figure it out, it's not like she can take it.
Bechloe-4evs: Glad to dismantle your heart.
96itadakimasu96: I tend to cheat a little bit with dates, bc neither Aubrey's nor Chloe's dolls were created yet when they would have been kids, but Lazy Dazy is actually a real doll from the early 70s from when Julia would have been a kid. There's some commercials for it on youtube.
SunDanceQT: Ha. Thanks.
Jadecatship: Thank you!
Dysrhythmia
This world is all turned around;
We're caught in this place, stalled in this place.
Don't let it kill you now;
We're not here to stay, we're not here to stay.
- Barcelona
The phone burns a hole in Aubrey's pocket from the very moment she stuffs it in there so no one else can see what she managed to procure. Between the time they get back to the waiting room and Julia returns too, Aubrey excuses herself to the bathroom twice to hear those words. It's better that they don't know about it. It'll keep them from worrying – not that they have any reason to. But she knows they will. They'll try to monitor like she's a child. She just wants to get back to New York where she can hole herself up in some private space and begin scouring the news sites without fear of being caught. She wants to to be back in New York, alone, so she can look at all the old pictures on Chloe's Instagram page without fear of breaking down in the middle of Chicago Airport's Terminal A.
The second time back from the bathroom, Beca knows something is up; she just doesn't know what.
"I know you don't have to pee that much," she says as Aubrey sits back down on a chair, "Are you puking again?"
Aubrey just shakes her head and begins to slide her straw up and down through the hole in the lid of her smoothie, finding it incredibly difficult to replay the sound of Chloe's voice in her head right now – right now when she needs to hear it most.
You've reached Chloe.
I'm busy right now.
But leave a message and I'll call you back as soon as I remember.
There is no reason it should be so difficult remembering exactly what she sounds like. But it is.
She needs to hear her.
Julia and Brian walk in a few moments later, completely oblivious.
Aubrey half expects Beca to call her out on her multiple bathroom trips and begins developing some sort of elaborate excuse in her head, but it doesn't appear she's going to have to use it.
"Did you find the license plate?" Beca asks Julia, who reaches into a plastic bag she's carrying and pulls out one of the stupid miniature license plate souvenirs with Noah's name on it.
She looks so proud of herself.
Aubrey places her melting smoothie on the table, then pulls the blanket over herself so she can slip her hand into her pocket and make sure the phone is still there. She makes plans to not only buy a gun but also a better phone once they get back; then she'll keep this one as a back up incase the other one gets smashed to pieces. Her grip tightens protectively around the cheap plastic. It's hard to focus on anything outside of Chloe's voicemail and keeping that phone safe as everyone else engages in conversation about things that are so fucking trivial.
xxxxx
It's awhile later when Julia sits down next to her; how much later, Aubrey doesn't know. The sudden movement to beside her startles her back into reality, and she realizes that everyone has settled down. The boys are talking about something and Beca has fallen back to sleep on the floor, using Julia's carryon bag as a pillow.
"He's a strange man, isn't he?" Julia whispers in her ear, "He doesn't say much."
It takes Aubrey a second to realize who she's talking about. She looks at Officer Clay, who is sitting at the bar with a glass of what Aubrey is going to assume is water, seeing as he's on duty. It's not like Aubrey feels like talking to him either, so…
"Why don't you try to drink some of that smoothie?"
Aubrey looks at the cup and the puddle of water gathered around the bottom of it. It has to be room temperature by now.
"Still not feeling so good?"
"I'm okay." Aubrey sits up and picks up her cup, taking a sip of the lukewarm, watered down, strawberry disgustingness to prove her point. "I'm just…"
"Tired?" Julia supplies when she doesn't finish her sentence, "You could go crash next to Beca."
Aubrey looks at her sleeping on the dirty floor – which probably isn't actually that dirty, since this place is very high class and it doesn't look like most people could afford to even look inside. But it was still walked on by someone at some point, if even just by the staff. So, no. "Has the hospital called?"
"No," Julia answers, "I'm sure they'll call while we're in the air. We'll go see her as soon as we get there." She pulls one of her feet up onto the seat and wraps her arms around her knee, hugging it close to her chest.
"What did Dad say?" Aubrey asks.
"Well, he told me I need to stop putting both phone chargers in my bag, for one," Julia answers, "Other than that, he just wanted to know what we needed. He said instead of renting a truck, he's going to strap everything to the boat. Now where he plans to put the boat, I have no idea. But he's going to try to head our way by tomorrow afternoon."
It's roughly a seventeen hour drive, meaning he should get to them the day after that. Just two days, and then he'll be back to them and Aubrey will know whether or not he's safe at any given time.
"What are you thinking about?" Julia asks.
Aubrey shakes her head. "Nothing."
Julia rests her chin on her knee and looks at the TVs. It's no longer sports or the news that's playing; instead, it's some rerun of Law and Order: SVU. Because that is exactly what Aubrey wants to see – more murder. "Could you maybe ask them to change the channel to something more pleasant?" she asks as Brian walks past them toward the bar.
"Define pleasant," Brian says.
Aubrey locks eyes with him. "Having qualities that tend to give pleasure."
"Thank you, Merriam-Webster," Brian states.
"Your welcome, Wiktionary."
Brian frowns. "So I'm looking for the antonym of that attitude."
"How about some cartoons?" Julia suggests. She and Chloe really are alike. "Something where everybody is happy."
Aubrey throws daggers at Brian's back as he walks away. Asshat. She'll show him an antonym of her attitude when she throws a thesaurus at his head – well, it would actually be a synonym of how she's feeling right now, but still.
"Did you ever think about what superpower you would have?" Julia asks, watching the TV channels turn until Mickey Mouse appears on the screen.
To be honest, Aubrey forgot all about that conversation. "Meta-summoning," she deadpans as Brian walks by again.
"You wish," he whispers, drawing out the 'sh' until he's back to his seat.
"Have you ever thought about omnifabrication?" Julia asks.
"What? You mean like MacGyver?"
"Yeah."
"Occasionally," Aubrey admits. It's crossed her mind a few times. "My father and I used to watch MacGyver."
"MacGyver is a great show. Dad and I own all the seasons on DVD. I could text him to bring those."
"The original?" Aubrey asks.
"In my mind, that is the only version," Julia replies and begins typing a new message to her husband, "Mostly because I didn't know they created a new one. It shouldn't surprise me. There's a remake of everything these days."
"Chloe likes the newer version," Aubrey states quietly, "She likes Lucas Till."
"Ah, yes, the Hannah Montana movie boy, also in that Taylor Swift music video. I think I spent half of 2009 looking at his face."
"You too?"
Julia breathes a laugh. "Me too. Had we known we were in the same boat, we could have bonded over hiding from Lucas Till's face. He does have a cute face though – in a very…Ken doll type of way. I do owe you a thank you though, because Chloe told me you ruined that music video for her, and I never had to watch it again."
Aubrey rolls her eyes. "I did not ruin it."
"She was pretty adamant that you did."
"I simply pointed out that the girl Lucas was dating while Taylor Swift was pining over him was just Taylor Swift in a wig."
Julia exhales another laugh that turns teary. She quickly wipes at her face with her arm then turns her attention back to the TV with a quiet sniffling sound.
Aubrey picks at her cast for a few seconds, refusing to admit to herself that she's hesitating, before reaching over to hold her hand.
Julia moves her hand, and Aubrey thinks she's pulling away; instead, she settles on a position where she can rub the pressure point on Aubrey's palm that's supposed to relieve nausea again. And they fall into silence.
"Do you want to talk about it?" Aubrey asks after a moment. She's unsure of what else to say in the lengthy pause that follows before Julia finally answers.
"This past week feels like it has lasted a year and a second all at the same time," she says, "I think my mind is still playing catch up, and it's just accepting that Chlo is in the hospital little bits at a time." There is another long, pregnant pause. "I just wish I could go back to talking to her on the phone before all of this happened and tried harder to tell her that going to that wedding wasn't right. I wanted her to make a decision for herself, but I should have pulled the Mom card and told her no point blank. She probably would have lashed back that she's an adult and I can't make her choices for her, but I think she would have listened. It would have been wrong of me to overstep that boundary, and she would have been right to tell me so, but she would also be okay; you both would be. I thought worst case scenario was going to be the two of you getting into an argument. I couldn't have imagined either of you getting hurt like this. But I really wish that I had stepped in and just laid down the law."
What she says is enough to make Aubrey wonder…had she refused to go, would Chloe have gone by herself? Or would she have stayed home, angry and sulking, but conscious? Maybe though, going to that wedding was better for the two of them than staying home. "I think we had a better chance of surviving there than if he had come to our home." There is nothing to say he wouldn't have did what he did regardless of their location. "If he broke into our apartment, there would have been nowhere to go short of jumping off the balcony – and Chloe still could have hit her head and I would probably have more than a few fractures in my arm." And if he had broken in while they were sleeping, well… She sighs. "When I first woke up, you told me that sometimes things happen and there is nothing we can do to stop them – so, you shouldn't feel bad for being a good mom."
"So you do listen to my advice," Julia teases her a little.
Aubrey shakes her head. "I just think if you're going to give it, you should be the first to take it."
Julia nods. "Okay, okay. But how do I know if it's good if I don't see the result of other people taking it first?"
Aubrey looks at her and she arches her brows back in response like she's waiting for an answer. Unfortunately, Aubrey doesn't really have one. "You wouldn't do that."
"No," Julia agrees, "But you had to think about it for a second, because you might."
Aubrey clenches her jaw and looks away.
"It wouldn't be the first time in my life I was used as a guinea pig and it probably won't be the last," Julia says, "So, okay, I'll let you see how my advice turns out for me before you decide whether or not to take it. I have confidence in my words." She gives Aubrey's hand a squeeze. "You know, you're going to wish you'd taken all of the advice I ever offered you. I'll give you another really good piece right now: always be humble. That one has gone really well for me so far."
Aubrey shakes her head.
"You wanna fight me on it?" Julia asks.
Aubrey isn't sure right now. Does she? She furrows her brows and turns to look at her to gage her level of seriousness – which is a wide, entertained smile. "I see why Dad loves you."
"Because I'm funny?"
"Because your jokes are worse than his."
Julia scoffs as she closes her eyes and leans her head back against the chair. "I'm so much funnier than he is. He wishes he was as funny as me. That's why he tries so hard."
Mhm.
"I don't try at all."
"Clearly," Aubrey blurts out.
Julia ignores the comment. "I'm just naturally humble and funnier than Dad. You should be sure to tell him that when he gets to New York – specifically the 'funnier' part. He might believe it if you tell him."
"I will not put myself in the middle of that war," Aubrey decides.
"Oh, it's too late for that. We live with you now," Julia says, "You're going to be the determining factor for everything."
Aubrey is about to suggest Beca do it, but, no, she doesn't want that. "Who determines things in Florida?"
"Oh, we have a wheel," Julia answers, "You spin the little arrow and it lands on one of our names. The kids made it for us for Christmas one year."
Aubrey can't imagine why. "Maybe Dad can bring that back with him."
"Oh, no, I think he's bringing enough stuff already," Julia says, "Also, the kids made his name a little too big on the second version and so sometimes it lands on him."
"The second version?"
Julia nods. "The first version was green and white, and I was green, so every day I could just color in his space with a little bit more green. It actually took them longer to catch on than I thought it would."
"So, you cheated."
"I was opportunistic. They colored the second one blue and yellow, and they made me yellow. But it's okay, because now I have you."
Aubrey shifts a little in her chair before speaking again. "So, if I don't choose you, are you going to beat me like you do Chloe?"
Julia guffaws. "I cannot believe that girl – telling people I beat her. Maybe if she didn't have some sort of condition that makes her deaf to common sense and the sound of my voice sometimes, I wouldn't have to smack her upside the head to get her attention." She lowers her voice. "But no, Baby, I would not hit you; not even like that. I can tell you wouldn't like that very much. You can tell Dad he's the funnier one if you want to; I'll still know in my heart that it's really me."
Aubrey rolls her eyes in good nature.
"You know, if you roll your eyes too much, they'll roll right out of your head," Julia tells her, "They'll roll across the floor, and I won't pick them up for you."
Oh really? Aubrey gives her a knowing look.
"Okay, well maybe," Julia admits, "But only because it'd be real hard to find your eyes without the use of your eyes."
Aubrey nods. She pulls her hand away to resume picking at her cast. "So, not because you love me," she goes in for a low blow.
"I'm sorry; is my love not loud enough for you?" Julia asks, "I've been toning it down, but I can crank it up to full volume."
If this is her love toned down, Aubrey is afraid to know what it looks like without the self-restraint.
"That's what I thought. Now give me your hand back." She doesn't wait for Aubrey to respond, instead just grabbing her hand back to continue rubbing it as she basks triumphantly in having the upper hand.
xxxxx
In the silence, everything turns from light back to heavy as Aubrey stares absently at the Disney channel, knowing full well what's going on on any channel playing the news. People are looking at her face, hearing a story that they have no right to. She never really thought about the news like that before; she never really thought about how a lot of those stories and the pictures she looked at just to know, about out of sheer curiosity, were none of her damn business.
"Hey." Brian comes up beside them. "It's almost time."
Aubrey glances at him in acknowledgement, then tries to stretch out her back and legs. It feels like her muscles are just going to be stuck rigid and tense forever now.
"You wanna wake up Beca?" Julia asks and follows suit in stretching.
Aubrey almost forgot she was sleeping on the floor. "I'm just going to run to the bathroom, and then I'll wake her up."
"Okay."
She just needs one more time to hear Chloe's voice before they leave. She's in pain as she stands, and she could probably benefit from a few pills to fix everything that feels wrong with her right now, but Chloe is a driving force that gets her to the restroom without any. She just needs to hear her. That phone is probably enough of a narcotic right now anyway. Never has she felt the need to do something quite as badly as she feels the need to listen to Chloe's voicemail again and again and again. There's a deep sense of guilt that runs through her entire body as she approaches the restroom door, but mostly she just wonders if Chloe's mom has had the thought to call her and had the opportunity to hear her voice too.
xxxxx
The two restroom are both unisex, giving Aubrey the opportunity to lock herself into a single room without fear of anyone walking in on her. She takes a moment to splash some cold water on her face, as best as she can with one hand, then huddles in the corner farthest from the door. Twice, she dials Chloe's number and lets the sound of her voice ease the anxiety pains in her chest. The third time, she considers leaving a message, asking her to call back when she has the chance. It's stupid. She knows that. There's just part of her that feels like maybe Chloe might call back – a sense of false hope, if you will. By the time the voicemail ends and she hears the tone, she's talked herself into it.
"It's Aubrey," she whispers, mindful of the thin walls, "I miss you." She leaves it at that. That alone feels completely asinine. That alone brings her back to feeling like she's going to throw up. She's about to call a fourth time, one last time, for that temporary, three second moment of calm when the screen lights up and the shrill, preprogrammed ringtone startles her into dropping the phone. She scrambles to pick it up, staring at Chloe's number on the cracked screen. Before she can process what's happening and decide what to do, the caller hangs up without leaving a message.
Aubrey's fingers shake as she taps on the broken glass to get to her missed calls. There's just one. Her thumb hovers over the familiar number and she glances at the door before pressing down and slowly lifting the phone to her ear. She can barely hold it steady as it rings. And rings. And rings. Before reaching her voicemail again.
'You've reached Chloe. I'm busy right now. But leave a message and I'll call you back as soon as I remember.'