x
Dysrhythmia
I'm not supposed to be scared of anything, but I don't know where I am;
I wish that I could move, but I'm exhausted and nobody understands.
I'm trying hard to breathe now, but there's no air in my lungs;
There's no one here to talk to and the pain inside is making me numb.
- 3 Doors Down
It's not as though Aubrey has never issued an apology to someone before. It isn't the case that she doesn't know what to say. It's how she feels whenever she has to say it that makes doing so difficult. It's the embarrassment, the shame, the feeling of complete and utter incompetence. It's the submissiveness of it that makes her feel like she's standing in front of her father getting ready to be struck. It's fear. Fear of being ridiculed. Fear of not being forgiven.
No.
It has nothing to do with any of that.
She just doesn't want to do it.
Why should she?
Aubrey wraps her arm around herself and twirls the thin strap of her dress around her finger until it cuts off the circulation. It has nothing to do with fear - or, at least, that's what she decides to tell herself.
"I'm not going to make you do it," Julia says, "But I do think you should." She turns and goes about kissing Chloe on the forehead and murmuring words of comfort and love to her.
Long term options.
Only a few weeks ago, they were watching TV on the couch. Buying bread at the grocery store. Arguing over whether magnets belonged on the side of the refrigerator or on the front only. Mundane little things that seemed like nothing until now when they might never get a chance to do them again. How is Aubrey supposed to think about apologizing to the guy who has done nothing to bring Chloe back to her? How is she supposed to do anything?
Long term options.
She doesn't even know what Chloe wants. They never – they never talked about what either of them would want in this kind of situation. Not that Aubrey even gets a say with Chloe's mom here to make the decision. What if she considers…no. It's all going to be fine, because Chloe is going to wake up soon. Aubrey knows she is. She has to. Aubrey is chewing on her thumb again, even though the taste of blood nauseates her further.
"I'll meet you in the hallway," Julia says as she stands up straight then walks out.
Aubrey stares at her back until she's gone – and, while she may have disappeared around the corner, her disappointment with Aubrey lingers in the room like a ghost. It haunts her with the need to make her proud, to hear that sought after 'good job', to not feel like such a fucking failure. She looks at Chloe and wonders if she heard all of this, and then she can't look at her anymore. The desire to become invisible then sink down through the floor becomes all encompassing. She feels like she's standing on that stage again with the whole world watching – everyone out there thinking to themselves about how Aubrey Posen can't do anything right. Only this time, it's worse. This time it's Chloe's mom witnessing yet another one of Aubrey's grand debacles – firsthand and up close.
She can handle failing her father; that's all she's ever done. But Mrs. Beale?
Long term options. The words keep replaying themselves in her mind. Chloe was just… It isn't possible that there is a world where Aubrey never gets to hear her voice or look into her eyes again outside of videos and photographs. Long term is…buying a house in Jamaica Estates and raising kids and growing old together. They aren't even thirty yet. They were just now beginning to decide what long term should look like for them.
Focus, Aubrey.
It's difficult to have laser sharper focus when a hundred things seem to suddenly need her attention all at once – and they're all important.
Dwelling on Chloe isn't going to help her. You have other things that you have to do right now.
Truth be told, dwelling on Chloe is the only thing Aubrey can do. Even as she hits the call button for the nurse and the thought of what she's about to do sends her nerves into a frenzy, all she can really think about is what their future looks like. Brain damage. If she wakes up, she could have brain damage. The Chloe that she knows could be gone. What if the Chloe that comes back doesn't know who Aubrey is? (And that's one of the more positive scenarios.) What if the Chloe that comes back is just a shell of herself – barely even Chloe at all? Of course, Aubrey would stay with her. She could never not stay with her. But the thought of Chloe in one of those electric wheelchair chairs, drooling all over herself, unable to have a conversation or function without assistance has Aubrey tasting that terrible chalky liquid from lunch in the back of her throat.
And Aubrey feels like the worst fucking person on earth for thinking that may be just as awful as Chloe dying – possibly even worse.
xxxxx
"You know what I hate most?" Aubrey asked. The clock on the nightstand read 3:15, and she couldn't sleep. It was too late to walk back to the Bellas house where she could be comfortable in her own bed, and even if she did, it wasn't worth the level of shame she would feel if Chloe was still awake. And it was a Friday night, so she was probably awake - most likely just getting home from some party with either Tom or some random guy she had exchanged no more than two words with in tow.
Howie exhaled a contemplative breath from somewhere next to her in the dark. "Halo 4?" he guessed, "They tried too hard to compete with Call of Duty, and it didn't even feel like Halo anymore. Everybody owns both; there's no reason not to focus on your own brand and-"
"Everything Beca does, Chloe agrees with it," Aubrey answered her own question, "She wants to change the set, and now Chloe thinks that it might be a good idea."
"So? Let them," he said, "You can try it out at the Fall Mixer. Just make sure it's good."
"Aca-scuse me?"
"Do you wanna know what I think?"
"I don't have sex with you to hear what you have to think, Howie." Aubrey leaned her head back against the wall with a quiet thud.
"You're not mad about The Bellas," Howie said. He must have felt the way she was staring in his general direction, because he quickly followed up with, "You're not only mad about The Bellas. You're all pissed off at Beca because she's trying to steal your girl."
"Chloe isn't my girl."
"Seriously? Chloe has always been your girl." Howie slid his hand beneath the blanket and found the inside of her thigh. "Remember when we all had sex?"
"If I had been smart enough to have one more drink, I probably wouldn't still have those flashbacks," Aubrey answered, "Thanks for bringing it up again though."
"She wouldn't even let me finish you off." He stroked her bare skin.
"Finish me off?" Aubrey grabbed his hand and pulled it closer to where she needed it. He had already gotten her off once, but she was quickly learning there were parts of him that did it better than his dick could. "What am I? The last slice of pie?"
"Look, you've been here every night for the past month and a half, minus shark week – and I told you, you still could have come."
"You're disgusting."
"Hey, I love the menstrual cycle," Howie said, "It's my favorite cycle."
"Howie."
"The water cycle, the carbon cycle, the nitrogen cycle…none of those tell me a girl isn't pregnant."
"You know the more you talk, the less attractive I find you?"
"The point is, anyone else would be here appreciating the opportunity to have sex with me," Howie continued.
"I'm really going to need you to stop talking and do something more productive with your mouth."
They adjusted their positions so Aubrey was on her back and Howie was between her legs, but he still didn't seem to get the picture.
"Hey, just because it's dark doesn't mean I don't know you cry half the time, and I know it's not because I suck. I'm just not your girl."
"Well, I certainly would hope not," Aubrey replied, trying to ignore the first part of that in order to preserve her sense of dignity. Acknowledging it would mean admitting it, and then she would have to kill the only witness.
"I understand how you feel, because it's the same way I feel about you."
"Have I ever mentioned how much the sound of your voice turns me off?" Aubrey asked, "We had an agreement that I would keep having sex with you only if you stopped trying to tell me you're in love, remember?"
"The girl you love is interested in someone else."
"I need you to use your mouth in a way that's worthwhile to me or I'm going to leave."
"And you could never move on from her. If you can't have her, your only options are to be alone or do this."
"And what exactly is this?" Aubrey asked.
"Settling."
xxxxx
"How can I help, Aubrey?"
Aubrey looks up to see Preston at the door.
"I'm sorry. Would you rather I call you Miss Posen?"
Aubrey shakes her head. "I would like to speak to Chloe's doctor" – she pauses – "please."
"Which one?"
"Um…" Aubrey didn't bother to listen to his name. "The one that was just in here?"
"Of course. Let me go see if I can find out who that was."
"Thank you." Aubrey walks to the doorway as he leaves.
For some reason, she expects the hallway to be empty. It surprises her to see Julia on one side of her and Beca on the other once she actually convinces herself to look for them. She isn't sure where she thought they would have gone – but the fact is, they haven't gone anywhere. They're still here – although it's clear they'd all rather be somewhere like Fallujah, getting their fingernails ripped out, than where they are right now. Beca has moved halfway down the hall where she's standing with her back to them, and Julia has found a chair and seems to be looking at a picture on the wall of the hospital opening in 1957 without really seeing it.
"You have questions?" The doctor approaches Julia instead of Aubrey. She can see on his badge that his name is Francis. There's no need to be cruel to him now; the world has probably been cruel enough to him for that one. Even Aubrey's parents weren't terrible enough to name one of her brothers Francis.
Julia looks at Aubrey, prompting Francis to look in her direction as well.
Aubrey should have taken more time to plan this out. So much for knowing what to say. She should have sat down a second scripted it all out in her head. Instead, she had just hit the button with no thought put into the next step. Now she really does have the urge to vomit all over his shoes. You're making this harder than it has to be, Aubrey. Just say it.
"Aubrey?"
Her head snaps up at the sound of Julia's concerned tone. She spaced out again, and it's mortifying. Her body begins to overheat, and she knows she just needs to get this over with. Stand up straight. Take a deep breath. Speak like you mean it. "Sir, I'm sorry for the way I spoke to you. I was way out of line, and I promise you it won't happen again - Sir." She reaches out for the doorframe and 'casually' rests her hand against it in a manner that hopefully doesn't look like she's struggling just to hold herself upright.
"I've been spoken to worse," Francis says, "You just want what's best for her."
Aubrey nods. Truer words have never been spoken.
"I forgive you."
"Thank you."
That's that then.
"We all want to do what's best for her," Julia fills the silence before it can feel too awkward, "The state she's in right now is the fault of no one present here."
"Do you ladies need anything else?" Francis asks.
"Can she hear me?" Aubrey blurts out.
"It's possible," Francis says, "There have been cases of coma patients who have woken up and claimed to have heard their loved ones talking to them."
"Is she in pain?"
"No. We're keeping her very comfortable."
Aubrey turns, placing more weight on the doorframe, to look at her. Chloe would never be 'comfortable' lying perfectly still on her back with no one to wrap her arms around.
"The best thing you can do for her right now is spend time with her," Francis says, "Talk to her, read her a book, sing her a song – sometimes that does more for people than anything even we can do for them. Just remember to take care of yourself too."
There has to be something else they can do.
"Thank you," Julia says when Aubrey doesn't turn back around.
If they could do consciousness transplants like they can do kidney and heart transplants, Aubrey would give hers up without a second thought.
"You ready to go home, Bunny?"
No. How could she ever be when Chloe isn't going home with her?
"I think Chloe would want us to go get her cat off the streets," Julia urges, and she's right.
She's right, but that doesn't make Aubrey any more motivated to do it. Aubrey has never felt such a lack of motivation to do anything – even the things she wants to get done. There's a heavy fog inside her head obscuring the path toward her goals - not that she even has a clear view of what she's supposed to be accomplishing right now. She just wants to lie down. She still can't wrap her mind around a discussion of their long term options. How do people even talk about that? She turns around to ask if it's possible Chloe knows she's unconscious, if it's possible she's trapped inside her own head, unable to wake up and probably terrified, but Francis is already gone.
"She'll be here when we come back," Julia says – but knowing that doesn't make Aubrey feel any better.
Chloe shouldn't be here at all. She should be going home.
They should be going home together.
Go figure that the moment Aubrey finally accepts she could never even consider a life where Chloe isn't right there beside her, through thick and thin, no matter what, is the moment she no longer has a choice but to exist without her.
The least she can do in the mean time is make sure everything is perfect for when she comes back - and the first step to that is catching her stupid cat.