RJRMovieFan: I mentioned face claims very briefly quite awhile back so you may have seen it there. It will be awhile before Chloe wakes up.
Dysrhythmia
I long for you;
Just a touch,
Of your hand.
You don't leave my mind;
Lonely days, I'm feeling,
Like a fool for dreaming.
As I wander down the avenue, so confused,
Guess I'll try and force a smile.
- Sam Smith
The main office is rather bland. Wood floor. Tan walls. A few cliché quotes turned into artwork. The secretary is busy and requests they wait for the principal on two uncomfortable wood chairs near the door. It gives Aubrey a lot of time to look at nothing and think about everything, and she counts the floor planks slowly under her breath to remain present. Her leg wants to bounce to control her nerves. She holds it still with her hand on her knee. As long as she's present and appears like she has a good grasp on stability, everything is fine. She can sit here and pretend that she's still calm, composed, always in control Aubrey.
Julia expresses far more interest in the boring little room. She turns her head to read every quote on the wall, examining each one like it's something unique and interesting. Maybe to her, it is. Once upon a time, a boring wooden sign that says 'knowledge is the key to success' is something Aubrey would have enjoyed too. Now it just ignites a fire inside of her – a rage that physically burns. She needs to know how all of this could have happened.
"Hi." The principal looks like a seal in human form – even claps his hands in front of him when he speaks. "You must be Mrs. Beale and Ms. Posen." Must they be? "I'm so sorry that these are the circumstances we have to meet under."
Aubrey wants to remind him that they've met before – a few times actually. But she keeps her mouth shut. Not the place, not the time. She glances at Julia out of the corner of her eye. It isn't her own rules and boundaries she's following when she chooses to stay quiet. She's beginning to learn what's expected of her, and maybe it isn't so bad. It's achievable, at least. She reaches to shake his hand. "It's good to meet you, Mr. Falcon." Again. He even feels like a seal, his hands cool and clammy. She does her best to remain stoic and not slip into the maniacal stressed out laughter that Beca keeps calling her out on.
"I wanted to do this after school hours, but the kids insisted," he says and shakes Julia's hand as well, "And our sub needs…help. If you could find Chloe's things, that would be incredibly useful."
"We'll see what we can do," Julia promises him, "I think Aubrey knows where she keeps a lot of it. Right?"
Aubrey nods.
"Thank you so much," Mr. Falcon says, "And I apologize ahead of time for the chaos."
Aubrey doesn't have to ask what he means. She can hear Chloe's classroom before she sees it. The remainder of the hall is silent – or maybe she just can't hear anything over the noise coming from Chloe's room. 'Noise' is the only way to describe it. It's a ear-splitting mix of laughter, yelling, stomping, and sounds that she can't quite place without seeing inside. It's a level of madness that even Chloe would be horrified to hear.
Mr. Falcon opens the door and the sub is the only one sitting down. She's young and very clearly exhausted – she barely even breaks from staring off into space when the door opens. "Guys," he says and the kids ignore him. He raises his voice, but it only contributes to the overwhelming environment. "Everyone sit down, please!"
Books have been torn from the shelves and are scattered across a dirty carpet area. Desks are overflowing with papers. Backpacks and jackets are in the floor. And children are everywhere. Just looking at the scene before her causes Aubrey's heart to race. "Enough!" she barks, unable to help herself, "Sit down."
They're all so startled that they sit down exactly where they are in the room.
"At your desks," Aubrey elaborates.
A few at a time, they stand up and scramble to their seats. A few kids sigh in what looks like relief and put their heads down on their desks. Others look confused or in a state of shock. Only one remains standing, a small girl who stomps her feet and yells at one of the boys. "That's my seat!"
They all have name tags on their desk. Aubrey looks between the tag and the boy claiming the desk. "Your name is Violet? Nice to meet you, Violet." A few kids giggle.
The boy gets up and sulks away to a desk labeled 'Benjamin' and Violet takes her seat.
Maybe she should apologize to the principal, but she isn't sorry at all. It's an entirely different room when they're all sitting down and quiet. She points to a few random student and assigns them each a task to assist in cleaning up. No one is finding anything is this disaster zone. She looks at the principal. "What all do you need?" Each item he tells her, she asks one of Chloe's students to get with absolutely no doubt that they know where things are. And she's right. They know where everything is.
"Are you Ms. Chloe's wife?" one of them asks.
It doesn't surprise her that they know who she is, but question takes her off-guard and she doesn't quite know how to answer it in this setting. "No," she says when what she really means is 'not yet'.
"Told you they're not married," Benjamin says.
Fuck it. She's never coming back here. Their parents can take it up with the school. "We're engaged. We'll be married soon enough." She hopes so anyway. She turns to Chloe's substitute. "Do you need anything else?"
The woman looks like she's about to cry. Instead of answering, she grabs her jacket and walks out the door.
"Excuse me." Principal Falcon goes after her.
Aubrey turns to Julia in horror at being left alone. She's the one good with kids here; it's her entire career.
"I need to use the bathroom." Julia pats her arm. "I'll be right back."
She has to be kidding. Aubrey watches her walk to the door. Nope, not kidding at all. And then she's the only adult in the room. She turns around to look at the twenty-some kids in front of her.
One of them raises their hand and then, without waiting to be called on, asks one of the dreaded questions, "What happened to your arm?"
"I broke it," Aubrey states the obvious.
"I broke my leg once," someone else says, "I fell off a horse."
"I broke my tailbone," one kid says, "I really broke my butt."
The class erupts into a giggle fit.
Violet raises her hand next and waits. She's tinier than the rest of the kids and a birthday chart on the wall tells Aubrey that she's also the youngest. Looking at her has Aubrey confused. She's clean, well-dressed in brand name clothing, but her hair tells a different story about her. Nothing about her hair is well-groomed. And she must realize Aubrey is staring at it, because she sinks down in her chair and looks at her hands.
"Violet?" Aubrey softens her tone.
The second dreaded question comes next. "Is Ms. Chloe coming back?"
They all stare at her and the demeanor of the room changes. They're all on edge waiting for her answer. And so sad that Aubrey is sure they somehow already know.
She shakes her head. "Not this year." Maybe not ever, but she can't tell them that.
"Is she okay?" another girl asks.
Aubrey hesitates too long. How is supposed to answer that? She can't. That's enough of an answer however, because they all start sniffling and rubbing their eyes. She looks around for Julia, but she's still alone.
"Is she dead?"
"No." At least she can give them that.
"What happened to her?"
"Do you want to read a book?" Aubrey changes the subject, walking to the bookshelf, "I can read you a book." They all stand up, and before she can ask what they're doing, they find a seat on letters on the carpet.
"The guidance counselor gave us books about being sad."
Aubrey can see that. Several children's books about grief are on the shelf.
"No one read us any. I want to know what they say."
It occurs to Aubrey that just because she was able to read at six doesn't mean all these guys are able to. Many of the books are about grief and death, and she actively avoids those. A book called 'Crying Is Like The Rain' looks like her safest bet. She pulls it from the shelf and sits on a pillow that Chloe must have sat on a thousand times. For the briefest of moments, the corner it's located in smells like her.
"I'm the page-turner," a boy sits down directly beside her, "That means I turn the pages."
There are so many of them. Aubrey looks around the carpet at them all. They all stare back. Julia definitely did not leave to go to the bathroom. The second she saw they were all listening, she left her in charge of these gremlins on purpose. She turns the book around on her lap so they can see the pictures, even if it means she has to read upside down.
"Ms. Chloe shows us the pictures after."
As much as Aubrey understands the need for routine, she and Chloe are polar opposites. And, also, she can't turn the book around over and over again with only one hand. Thank God Chloe has a 'page-turner' for whatever kid thinks not having a job is unfair – kids like Aubrey. "I'm not Chloe," she points out to them, "I'm Aubrey. Are you supposed to call her by her first name?"
"Nooooo," they all say together with mischievous little grins.
Gremlins. All of them.
"Can you just tell us why she's not coming back," someone asks while the page-turner is opening the book, "Is she hurt?"
"Yes," Aubrey answers.
"She must be really hurt. My dad said a lot of people died where she was at. I'm glad she didn't die."
"Me too," Aubrey says while silently urging her page-turner to turn faster.
"Were you with her? Is that where you broke your arm?"
Aubrey drags her lower lip through her teeth. "I'm going to read now. No more questions about it, okay?"
They all nod at her.
Julia opens the door and walks in just before Aubrey is about to start. "Sorry," she whispers, "I got caught up. I don't think the sub is coming back right now." She sits down at Chloe's desk. "They're looking for someone to come in and cover for her."
This was a bad idea from the start. "Why did you guys scare off the substitute?" No one has an answer for that. Her question is met with blank stares and partial shrugs. It's not like an answer is going to change anything now. She looks down at the book and begins to read about how crying is like the weather while they all listen intently. Expecting it to be relatable only for six and seven year olds was a mistake, because even at twenty-seven, feelings are the same.
'When you are worried or upset, scared, or lonely, or something deep within feels off balance, there is a storm building inside of you.
The storm may be big or small.
You may feel frustration gathering power like a tornado.
You may feel a red-hot anger growing like the lava in a volcano, ready to explode.
You may feel tidal waves of pressure inside, expanding and pushing out like a hurricane.
You may feel ready to crack wide open like the ground during an earthquake.
You may want to shout like thunder or lash out like a lightning bolt.
Or you may want to sit and feel blue, as if the darkest clouds are hanging over you.'
Many of them nod after Aubrey reads each one. Several of them nod more than once. It's really not fair that she's here and Chloe isn't. It should be the opposite. It's really not fair. She closes the book when she's finished with all of it and looks at each one of their faces.
"Does Ms. Chloe miss us?"
"Chloe loves you guys." Aubrey isn't sure Chloe can feel anything right now, but if she can, she's sure she misses work. She hands the book to the page-turner to put it away and slowly stands up with the help of a shelf. "What are you all supposed to be doing right now?"
All except for one stand up and shuffle back to their desks where they root around for math notebooks. Instead of following the rest, one boy crawls behind the few coats actually hanging on the coat rack and begins to cry, repeating 'I want Ms. Chloe to come back' over and over.
Julia stands up to tend to him.
The rest of them stare at Aubrey, math books open in front of them. "Somebody has to teach us," one of them eventually says.
That…makes sense. But Aubrey is not a teacher. She leans back to peer through the door window at the empty classroom hallway. The principal should be back soon…right? He can't just leave strangers alone with students. Except maybe he can if one of them is licensed to work with children. She looks at Julia rubbing the boy's back and wonders if she had something to do with this.
"Are you going to teach us…? We're learning how to tell time."
Aubrey looks down at the workbook on Violet's desk. It has eight clocks and two spaces to write where the hands are pointing to – hours and minutes. It never quite occurred to her what Chloe does all day long. She's always comes home covered in marker, so it's easy to assume they just do art all day. She backs up to the whiteboard and draws a large circle with the numbers 1-12 inside. Positioning her hand not to touch the board itself is difficult and blue dry erase marker smears across her skin. Now really isn't the time to beat herself up in front of a bunch of kids. "How many hands are on a clock?"
"It depends how many people are touching it," Benjamin says and the other kids laugh.
A girl with a name tag that says 'Rose' raises her hand. "Two. A big one and a small one."
"The small hand points to…?" Aubrey asks and they all answer together. Hours. "And hours count by?" Ones. So far so good. "The big hand points to?" Minutes. "And minutes count by?" She's met with blank stares. "Anyone?" Nope. "Fives." Fives, they echo. She glances at Julia as she leads the crying boy to his chair and sits down next to his desk with him. "Do you know how to count by fives?" As they count, she points at each number on the clock.
The door opens and the principal walks back in with what is definitely the PE teacher. "I am so, so sorry," Mr. Falcon apologizes.
"Shhh," Rose boldly shushes him, "We're learning how to tell time."
"Coach Peterson can take over," Mr. Falcon tells Aubrey, "They have gym with him in fifteen minutes anyway. He can take them there early."
The classroom erupts in protest with kids groaning and yelling, "No!"
"And after gym?" Aubrey inquires.
"We have a Fire Safety assembly in the auditorium, end of day recess, and then pickup," Mr. Falcon replies.
So nothing else that requires teaching. What's fifteen more minutes in the grand scheme of things? "I'd like to finish this – if you don't mind."
Mr. Falcon looks at her and then at the kids who are trying to usher him out the door with their hands. He puts his hands in the air and takes two steps back. "Be my guest."
Aubrey turns back toward her giant clock on the board and then pulls over a step stool. "Raise your hand if you'd like to come up here and try to make 2:30." Almost every hand goes up. She chooses a random kid and hands him a green marker then steps back to give him space.
"Are you a teacher?" Mr. Falcon asks.
"No."
"Do you want to be?"
Aubrey laughs. "No."
"You'd be good at it," he tells her, "You're doing it right now."
The boy draws a small hand to the two and a big hand to the three and then steps down off the stool to look at her. "Is that right?"
"Remember, we count by fives for the minutes."
"Oh yeeeaaaah." He erases the big hand and then draws it again, this time to the six.
"Good job," Aubrey tells him and he beams. She turns back to Mr. Falcon. "I can't. I'm sorry. I don't even have a teaching degree. I have a degree in law."
"We could offer you a sub position for the rest of the year and help you get your teaching certified over the summer if you'd like to stay," Mr. Falcon says, "I need to start preparing for the assembly, but Mr. Peterson will make sure everyone gets to the gym alright. If you change your mind, give me a call. This would be your class."
Aubrey watches him leave then hands off a marker to another kid with a different time. She could never teach first grade. That's ridiculous. The kids begin to fill out their workbooks on their own while also taking turns going to the board. It works out that she can see how each of them is doing while showing the class what they're supposed to be doing alone at the same time. But she could never do this as an actual job…right? No kid wants a 'military sergeant' as a teacher.
One by one, over the next fifteen minutes, they finish their worksheets and place them in a bin on Chloe's desk then pull out journals to draw in for the remainder of the time. It's difficult to believe this is the same class that was here when she first walked into the room.
"When I call your name, line up," Mr. Peterson says when time is up, "Rose."
Rose pulls a sheet of paper from her desk. "We made cards for Ms. Chloe and you," she says. The paper isn't so much of a card as it is a drawing of a cat with sunglasses on. She hands it to Aubrey then wraps her arms around her waist in a hug. "Bye," she says then goes to get in line.
"Bye."
"Ben," Mr. Peterson calls.
Benjamin stands up. He hands Aubrey a picture of a hot dog cat (?) that says 'I luv hot dogs to meow' then walks to the line.
"Olivia."
Olivia gives her a picture of a cat in a tutu and a hug.
"Violet."
Did everyone draw a cat? Of course they did. Not only did they draw cats, they drew cats that look exactly like Catsy. Is she the only person who did not know about the damn cat? Violet hugs her as well. "You're really nice," she says before walking to the line.
"Griffin."
Griffin hands her a picture of a cat followed by a picture of a heart. "I didn't know if you like cats."
…is it wrong to have a favorite child?
One by one, they give her drawings and hugs until all of them are standing in line with puffed out cheeks and two fingers held in the air. Except Benjamin, who is turned around, making faces at the people behind him. He notices Aubrey staring and turns forward in slow motion. She would like to extend her sympathies to his parents.
"They only had Chloe as a teacher for a month," Aubrey says to Julia after they all leave the room. She understands their grief though. Chloe is the type of person you fall in love with the moment she says hello. They should have had more time.
"Take the job, Aubrey," Julia says.
Has she lost her mind? "I can't."
"Why?"
She knows why. Because Aubrey is a mess and just knowing her dangerous now.
"They need you."
"They'll find another sub."
"I mean the kids. You had this class together the very second you walked in here."
"Because I know Chloe," Aubrey says.
"No. Because you took control and made them feel safe. Did you see the relief they had when someone stepped up and stopped the chaos? Teaching kids is different than teaching adults. They need someone to hold the reigns a little bit tighter. Routine. Rules. Consequences. Those are all good things here."
"Did you do this on purpose?" Aubrey asks.
"No. Well. I did go the bathroom purpose. I wanted to remind you of what you're good at. How many people get offered a job just because of their presence in a room? And they like you. Kids are a good judge of character. Most don't attach to just anyone. And, you can teach. You're amazing at it."
Aubrey looks at the clock on the whiteboard. "Chloe would want me to do this, wouldn't she?"
"You can't do this for Chloe," Julia says, "And you can't do it because I'm laying on the pressure right now. If you do choose to do it, you have to know you chose it because you enjoy it."
Aubrey did enjoy it. That's the weirdest part. Even when she was trying to skirt around their questions. She also just taught twenty or so little people a skill they'll need for the rest of their lives. For the first time in awhile, she feels…important.
"Think about it."
"What about the crying kid?" Aubrey asks, "How am I supposed to know what they need when that happens?"
"What do you need?" Julia gives her a half smile then turns and starts to walk out of the classroom.
"Don't be mystical," Aubrey says, going after her.
Julia laughs. "I'm not being mystical. I didn't even say anything to him. I just sat there so he knew he wasn't alone." She shrugs. "Every single one of them wants one thing – to know they're safe and loved. Even that little trouble makin' guy."
"Benjamin," Aubrey groans.
"I like him," Julia says, her smile turning into a full grin, "He has spark. He'll be like teaching Beca."
"I still don't think she realizes it was the British and not the French who were coming. She thinks the whole problem was what I told her about the Mayor's donkey. If she had asked about the British, I probably would have told her the right answer."
Julia presses her lips together and exhales a lengthy breath as she holds open the front door for Aubrey. "You're very proud of yourself for that, aren't you? How did Chloe react when she found out what you did?"
Aubrey purses her lips off to one side and looks toward where the truck is parked. "She threw a pair of pants at me."
"I love you."
But?
Julia unlocks the truck then walks around to get in.
"Why do you say that whenever you should be mad?" Aubrey asks as she climbs in next to her.
"Mad? I think you're funny." Julia wrinkles her nose at her then starts the truck. "Hey." She buckles up before reaching over to squeeze Aubrey's knee. "Do you want to talk about last night before we get home?"
"No."
"Okay." She gives Aubrey's knee a few small pats then puts her hand on the wheel. "If you change your mind, I'm right here. It seemed like a pretty bad dream."
Aubrey looks out the window. The pangs of anxiety come back just from the reminder of it. It wasn't a dream – not really. It had happened. Maybe not exactly like she saw it last night, but Luke had almost succeeded in killing her. And she was so terrified she… She tries to block it out.
"Something about it is really bothering you," Julia points out.
Yeah, and it's not even how fucking terrified she was – it's how humiliated. She takes a breath and tries to forget – tries to focus on the scenery passing by instead. But every time she sees people, she's afraid she's going to see Jesse. That he's going to be out there, making himself known, taunting her. She glances over at Julia, expecting her to appear curious, but instead she just looks incredibly worried. Breathe. Deep breath in. Deep breath out.
"Do you need anything on the way back?"
"No."
"Okay. Is it okay if I rub your back?"
Aubrey hesitates about her driving with only one hand before she nods and angles herself toward the door. She rests her head on the window and closes her eyes.
"How are you feeling physically? Still better?"
"So much better," Aubrey breathes. She no longer forgets what it's like to not be on the constant verge of vomiting. Her neck is no longer sore and her throat no longer feels like fire. She can even walk more than a few feet without her legs threatening to give out on her. It's just the exhaustion that hasn't eased up as much as she wishes it would – but part of that is on not sleeping well. But it's fine. She'll take exhaustion over nausea any day.
"And your arm?"
Aside from being in the way, it might as well not even exist. Aubrey moves her fingers slowly and has to open her eyes to be sure they're actually moving. "It works." The only time it feels is when she imagines Chloe's fingers laced through her own. The only problem with that is that her heart has to feel it too. "Can we go see Chloe?" The closer she gets to an almost normal life, the more she feels like she's neglecting her. Plus, she has a hundred pictures of Catsy to give her.
"Of course." Julia looks in the mirror then switches lanes. "I will not get used to that," she says as someone several cars back honks their horn.
To Aubrey, it sounds like home. She closes her eyes again and listens to a taxi cab beep back at the original offender. It's so contradictory how much she hates being around all these people and yet she loves it – anyone could try to kill her at any time, but they're also a reminder that other people exist and they're alive. It would take a nuclear bomb to destroy all of New York City – and as much as Jesse might be capable of, obtaining a nuclear bomb is probably out of his reach. It's oddly relaxing to know he at least can't level the city. No matter what he does, New York drivers will still be yelling out their windows and laying on their horns.
xxxxx
Aubrey tapes the cat pictures up on the wall of Chloe's room – with Julia's help ripping off the tape. She positions them so if Chloe does wake up, they'll be the first things she sees. It makes her feel a little better about Chloe waking up when they might not be there. She'll see all these drawings and she'll know everything is okay. The only drawing she doesn't tape up is the one of the heart for her. That one will go on her bedroom wall. It was sweet to consider she may not like cats, and be okay with that.
"She's going to love this," Julia comments.
If she sees it. Aubrey puts on her best smile then lets it fall two seconds later. It must be so lonely in here… Especially for someone like Chloe. "I'm going to bring you home soon," she says in case she can hear. Just as soon as she has the money.
"I don't know if that's possible, Aubrey," Julia whispers in her ear, and Aubrey just looks at her. Why wouldn't it be? "I don't know if a home nurse can provide the care she needs."
Aubrey isn't having this conversation here. Not with Chloe in the room. She backs into the hallway and waits for Julia to follow her. "What care? She's in a room all alone all day."
"I know. But what if she takes a turn for the worse? I want her home just as much as you do, but I also want to know if that's the best choice for her surviving. I don't want to make her promises that I don't know if we can keep. And I don't want you getting your hopes up."
The rage comes rushing back and Aubrey wants to hit something. But all she can do is let it burn her. And burn it does. Her chest is in flames.
"I'm not saying it's impossible, I'm just saying-"
Standing there in front of Julia, being wrong, not being able to do anything to help – it all makes her feel small. She turns and walks back into the room without listening to what Julia has to say. They need the doctor's opinion first; she gets it. Julia doesn't follow her in and she stands there alone, longing for Chloe to sit up and say something to her. If Aubrey had just turned around in that church, made sure that Chloe was there… She can see what could have been so clearly, like if she thinks about it hard enough, she can go back and make a different choice. She tries to will fantasy into being reality so hard that it gives her an immediate headache.
She turns around to tell Julia she's wrong; that she will find a safe way to bring Chloe home, but the doorway is empty. No. No no no no no. This isn't going to happen again. "Mom?" She barrels out into the hallway, fully expecting to find it empty. But Julia is leaning against the wall and looks up at her with pensive frown. Nobody dragged her away. They're in the middle of the hospital, surrounded by witnesses. "I'm sorry."
"For what?"
For walking away just now. For taking her eyes off Chloe long enough for her to be taken. For the ongoing state of panic that she can't seem to leave behind her.
"You don't have anything to be sorry for." Julia pushes herself away from the wall and walks past her, back into Chloe's room. She pulls two chairs close to the bed and motions Aubrey over. "Come sit."
Aubrey sinks deep down into the chair, stretching her legs out in front of her. If Chloe opened her eyes and saw her sitting this way, she'd probably assume she was hallucinating. But it's comfortable and no one cares about her posture as much as she once thought they did. She leans her head to the side, though her shoulder doesn't provide much of a pillow, and shuts her eyes. Instead of darkness, she sees Chloe bleeding from the head, and she opens them again. She's almost envious that Chloe has essentially been asleep for days. Almost.
"Talk to us, Aubrey," Julia says.
Us. Aubrey stares forward at Chloe. She shakes her head. Even if she does decide to share what's on her mind, she's not going to make Chloe relive that horror – especially when she has no other choice but to be present and listen. As much as Aubrey hopes Chloe isn't locked inside her own head, scared and unable to break out, she does hope that she can hear her. Because there are so many things Aubrey needs her to know if Chloe is going to leave her. Her terror isn't one of those things.
Julia reaches forward and strokes Chloe's cheek with the back of her fingers.
Aubrey still waits for her to move, to make a sound, to do something that indicates she feels someone touching her. She still wants to yell at her, to demand she get out of bed like she would be doing any other day. Instead, she stays quiet and tries to rub away the pain growing behind her eyes. It's just a dull throbbing, but she needs it to go away. Physically, her pain is still just as high as it's ever been, but mentally, it feels like a paper cut could send her over the edge. Maybe her arm is lucky that it's numb. She kind of wishes the rest of her body was too.
"Tired?" Julia asks.
Of course she's tired. She can't sleep without reliving being choked and pissing her pants. The question makes her irritable. The constant reminders that it happened make her irritable. Sitting here, knowing Chloe isn't going to wake up, makes her irritable. The feeling comes on so suddenly that a lump of frustration forms in her throat and that makes her angry too. Impulse control makes her breathe deeper and stops her from standing up and flipping her chair. Internally, she screams so loud she can no longer hear her through for a few seconds. It doesn't provide much relief because her mind goes right back at it afterward. If she could drill into her skull, maybe it would release some of the pressure.
A hand on the back of her neck helps. Fingertips gliding back and forth across her skin bring her back down enough that some of her muscles unclench and make it easier to pull oxygen into her lungs. The thick feeling in her throat eases up, giving her peace of mind that at least she isn't going to cry again. She's so fucking sick of crying. Her own hand quivers, shaking from the sudden rush and de-escalation of emotion.
"I'm sorry," Julia apologizes to her, "I didn't mean to do that." She stops rubbing Aubrey's neck to hold her hand, using her thumb to rub Aubrey's palm with quite a bit of pressure. It takes away from some of the pressure inside her head. With her other hand, she massages Chloe's palm the exact same way, and Aubrey hopes it does something for her head as well.
Touch has never been her primary love language, but Chloe apparently made it so she doesn't know what to do without it. She goes from feeling the weight of everything all the way to empty when Julia releases her hand – and not the good kind of empty. Being so all over the place scares her. It used to be so easy to control everything around her when she felt so out of control, but now her surroundings have spiraled with her and there is nothing she can do about it. If anyone is going to find a way to fix this, it's Chloe's mom. Someone is in control and that calms her down again.
It's a strange kind of panic attack she's having – different from any she's had in the past. In ways, it's better. She hasn't thrown her guts up – doesn't even feel like she's going to. But she does feel. Everything. And nothing. And in that regard, it's worse.
"Do you want Xanax?" Julia is staring at her. "I have some in my bag."
Of course she has some in her bag. "Are you going to pull an umbrella out of there too?" Aubrey asks with the nervous laugh Beca keeps scolding her for.
"Oh. You have jokes. As a matter of fact…" Julia opens her purse and pulls out one of those mini-umbrellas that can extend with the push of a button. "How about I give you a few dollars to go to the vending machine and get a drink and if you still feel off, you take the Xanax? Unless you want me to buzz the nurse for water so you can take it now."
Getting up and walking might help. Sitting here is…a lot. Aubrey holds out her hand and takes the $2 that Julia hands her. "I'll be right back."
Julia puts her hand on her shoulder and lets it slide down her arm as she stands up.
She's going to have to get used to being alone. Especially if she takes Chloe's job. No one can be with her every single second of the day. Aubrey eyes everyone as she walks down the hallway, looking for familiar faces and suspicious activity from the unfamiliar faces. It's a busy day and no one even so much as glances back at her. She turns the corner into a tiny alcove and slides the money in the slot then looks at her options. There are a variety of sodas, no water, and Powerade looks like her best bet. She presses the corresponding letter and number for the 'Tropical Mango' bottle then grabs it out of the slot.
"Aubrey," an unfamiliar voice addresses her while her back is still turned.
Aubrey whips around, holding the bottle by the neck.
"Aubrey Posen?" He's a younger man. Probably early twenties. Wearing a white button down shirt and a pair of brown slacks. And Aubrey has never seen him before in her life.
She shakes her head. "I don't who that is." She tries to step around him, but her corners her between the wall and the vending machine. Her fingers tighten around the plastic bottle.
"My name is William Turner. I'm from The Chicago Tribune." He blocks her second attempt to go around him. "I'm just trying to figure out why the lack of media coverage about one of the only survivors. What is being covered up about that place?"
You tell me. When her third attempt to escape is blocked, she lifts the bottle with every intention on hitting him if he doesn't back up. Fortunately for him, he steps away with his hands raised in the air and allows her to pass. "Stay away from me." She keeps the bottle in the air and her eyes on him until she's all the way down the hall and back in Chloe's room.
"I know you're not about to hit me with that bottle," Julia says calmly – and Aubrey quickly lowers it, because, god, no, she is not.
"There's a reporter here." She realizes her mistake too late that she shows him right where Chloe's room is. The guard out front seems diligent enough, but it was still a drastic fuck up on her part.
Julia stands up and places her hand on Aubrey's face. "Are you okay? Where?"
Aubrey nods at the first question and doesn't have a chance to answer the second, because Julia is already walking away from her. She's halfway down the hall before Aubrey even has a chance to get back to the doorway.
There is only one man casually meandering the hall in the direction of Chloe's room, so it isn't difficult to figure out who the culprit is. Julia extends the umbrella handle toward his face and points toward the exit with her other hand – and while Aubrey can't hear what she's saying, she can tell by the way the reporter backs away from her that it is most definitely not a polite request for him to leave. A security guard intervenes when she uses the umbrella to push him back further – first trying to correct her, then changing his mind when she points a finger at him while still brandishing her umbrella at the other guy. In the end, the guard grabs the reporter by the arm, and Aubrey disappears behind the doorframe to look at Chloe.
"Your mom is horrifying."
Julia is putting the umbrella back into her purse when she walks back in. "He won't be back, Baby." She takes the bottle from Aubrey's hand, twists open the cap, then gives it back to her.
"What did you say to him?"
"I told him in graphic detail where I was going to put my umbrella if he took one step closer to this room. I'm not afraid of getting arrested." Julia pulls a plastic baggy with a few pills in it from her purse and holds it in the air, looking questioningly at Aubrey.
Aubrey shakes her head and sips her drink without it.
"Are you sure?"
Who needs Xanax when they have a crazy mother with an umbrella? "He knows where Chloe's room is now."
"Oh, I'm going to have her moved," Julia has already clearly decided. "It's okay. Not your fault." She takes the bottle when Aubrey lowers it and puts the lid back on it. "You and Chloe and Beca – you're safe. I've got you."
For the time being, Aubrey believes her.
xxxxx
"There was a reporter at the hospital?" Beca asks as she follows her to the bedroom, and Aubrey wonders why Julia had to let them all know the second they arrived home.
"It's fine, Beca."
"Did he bother you?"
"I'm fine." She just needs a moment of peace to process the afternoon. "How was your day?"
Beca closes the bedroom door behind her. "I got you a gift."
"You didn't."
"I did."
Aubrey raises her brows and sits down on the edge of the bed. Why do they even get out of bed anymore? She lays back, legs still hanging off the edge, and turns her head to the side so she can still see Beca.
"It was awful," Beca admits, "But I actually found something…kinda cool?" She kneels down and pulls a paper bag out from under the bed. "Do you want to see it now?"
"Lock the door first."
"Right." Beca leaves the bag next to the bottom of the bed and goes to turn the lock. "Are you ready for this?"
No. But it's also the case that she may never be ready for whatever Beca is about to pull out of that bag. She pushes herself up onto her elbow then sits and backs herself up toward the headboard.
Beca reaches in and pulls out a blue strap with a beige penis attached to the end.
"It looks so real," Aubrey muses, "It's kind of disgusting."
"Aubrey, I hate to be the one to tell you this but you're a lesbian. Bi-curious toward men at best."
Aubrey rolls her eyes.
"What it looks like it not the cool part. It's battery operated."
"What's it do? Flop around like Big Mouth Billy Bass?"
"That sounds like it would hurt."
Aubrey didn't say she wanted it to do that.
"No." Beca throws a small remote control at her with a power button and two buttons with plus and minus signs on them. "Look."
The distinct sound of vibrating buzzes in Beca's hand when Aubrey presses the power button.
Beca turns it around to show her the inside of the strap where the 'penis' extends backwards as well. That end vibrates more visibly than the front. "Neither of us gets left out."
Aubrey isn't that much of a dick to take and not give, but this definitely makes it easier.
"Did I meet Aubrey Posen's impossibly high standards?" Beca takes the remote from her hand and turns it off.
"You did good, Beca."
"Seriously?"
Aubrey nods. "Seriously." She isn't sure if Beca is becoming a more tolerable human or if her standards are getting lower or if it's just impossible to do the wrong thing 100% of the time, but her decisions have begun to align with Aubrey's expectations in many areas.
"You're going to sleep well tonight," Beca tells her.
"Is that a promise?" Aubrey asks.
"I have no idea," Beca drops the cocky attitude for a diffident ramble, "I still don't even know how to put it on." She turns it over in her hands. "Am I supposed to lube on it? I mean, I got some just in case, but I don't know. You're all knowing."
Aubrey scoots away when Beca tries to pass it to her. "I don't want to touch it." Not with her hands anyway. "Beca, stop!"
Beca grips the center of the penis and tries to poke her with it while she rolls out of the way, mumbling 'ew ew ew ew ew'. "Cute," she says with a laugh and drops it back into the bag.
Aubrey's face heats up at the word – or specifically at it coming from Beca. "Do you want to try it?"
"Right now?"
Why not? Dinner hopefully isn't for awhile and no one is coming to bother them so long as they're not fighting. She nods. Better to just get the first time over with, right? Get all the awkwardness and embarrassment of using the thing out of the way?
"Yeah, sure." Even Beca seems nervous as she lifts it back out of the bag. "Um…" She places it on the bed beside her then unbuttons her jeans. Some of Beca might be more tolerable, but the way she pushes off her pants and underwear together then drops them on the floor next to the bed is absolutely maddening. "I guess it goes like this?" After she has it adjusted around her legs, Aubrey helps her secure it in place. "God, this is so weird," she whispers, one hand over the piece she slid inside of herself.
"Didn't that hurt?" Aubrey asks. She just put it in there – no foreplay, no anything.
"No. I was already a little, uh – from showing it to you."
Oh. They're both wildly blushing.
"Do you think guys ever just-" Instead of finishing what she's about to say, Beca bounces on the bed on her knees. The penis, stiff throughout everywhere except from where it's attached to the strap, flies up and down.
"You're an idiot." Aubrey takes her pants off first followed by her underwear then folds them up to place in the nightstand. The brightly colored bowl beside them, waiting in case she vomits again, is quite a turn off and it takes all of her self-control not to stuff it beneath the bed. It's not like she needs it anymore. But suddenly it's like a security blanket; the thought of removing it from the room tightens her chest. She turns back to Beca, who is still bouncing. "Are you done screwing around?"
"No."
Aubrey digs the remote from the bag and presses the power button.
"Oh my god." Beca nearly falls over.
"Now are you done?" Aubrey turns it off.
"Yes. And I don't know how I feel about you being in charge of that."
Aubrey holds the controller out of her reach when she tries to snatch it away. She turns it on again and hovers her thumb over the button to increase vibration.
"Fine," Beca backs off, eyeing the remote. "Fine." She strips her shirt off and tosses it down with her pants, followed by her bra. "Do you want help with your shirt?"
It occurs to Aubrey that once she takes these clothes off, she's going to have to go through the effort of putting them all back on again before dinner. Unless she takes advice from Chloe, abandons shame, and settles for a long t-shirt and underwear. It honestly doesn't seem like that bad of an idea. "Yes." She clutches the remote against her palm so Beca can't use this as an opportunity to take it from her. "Fold it."
Beca groans and helps her out of her shirt then makes a show of folding it in front of her. "You want me to fold your bra too?"
Why wouldn't she?
"You're ridiculous. You're literally just going to throw them in the dirty laundry later." Beca does it anyway.
It occurs to her that her ribs are still somewhat visible. She rests her hand on her chest and feels them. "I'm going to turn the light off."
"What? Why?"
"So I don't have to look at you wearing that thing."
"I don't look sexy to you?"
Aubrey runs her hand through her hair, remote still in hand, as she steps out of bed and walks over to the light switch. There is still enough light sneaking through the cracks of the curtains that it isn't completely dark – just dark enough that Beca won't actually see her when she looks at her. It shouldn't feel any different than being in the bath together, where Beca has most definitely seen how fragile she still looks, but in the bath she doesn't need to feel desirable. The old Bellas made her weight herself once a month, insisted skinnier was better; now she's afraid to step on a scale and see how much she lost over the span of the past month. It hits her – tomorrow marks one month since she set foot on that horrible island. And in a few days, it will be exactly one month since she left. One month that she hasn't had Chloe. She crawls back up onto the bed and kneels by Beca, who is pulling a bottle out of the paper bag.
"I guess I just rub it on there, right?" The shadow that is Beca's hand motions between her legs.
How is Aubrey supposed to know that? "Read the instructions."
"You turned off the light. I'm going to assume it's the same as putting it on a real penis."
Aubrey doesn't know anything about that either. Half the time, Howie didn't even care if she was dry and it hurt. The other half of the time, she was already absorbed in thoughts of Chloe before he pushed in. "Just hurry up."
"I'm hurrying." Beca opens the bottle and squirts some on her hand then rubs it all over her new penis.
Aubrey flops down on her back and waits – and when Beca takes too long, she uses some vibration to hurry her along. She expects Beca to just get started once their toy is wet; instead, she leans over Aubrey and kisses her neck. Her lips are warm and Aubrey tilts her head for more. She could probably fall asleep like this – relaxed into a pillow, Beca's body taking away the near-constant chill from her own. A sigh escapes her as her muscles relax and she sinks deeper into the bed. "Kiss me."
"Are you sure?"
"Yes." She's desperate for more warmth – and she gets it as Beca kisses up her jaw and to her lips. Her hand finds Beca's hip and she guides her to where she needs her to be, directly over top of her. The blanket is with her reach and she pulls it up over the top of them – and uses some of it as a buffer between her cast and their bodies.
"This is amazing," Beca murmurs against her mouth.
It's better than Howie; that's for sure. Aubrey remembers what the buttons she's holding are for and turns the vibration up higher. She can feel it too and has to pull away from Beca to press her lips together so no one outside their room hears her whimper.
"You good?" Beca asks with a slight gasp.
More than good. All she can do is nod and hope Beca sees her answer in the dark. Putting in work when her body is the way it is is difficult, but Beca more than makes up for it. She moves back and forth at an uneven pace, practically twitching from the vibration, and Aubrey feels like she's being jolted with some sort of electric current every time Beca presses in deep enough that she can feel it too. Yeah, she's definitely good.
"More," Beca pants. She's beginning to sweat far more than Aubrey is from both the toy and being the main source of movement combined. It's a complete accident when Aubrey turns it down instead of up. "I swear to god, Aubrey."
"Sorry," Aubrey gasps, but she's laughing too. She turns it up two notches and her body involuntarily slams upward against Beca's as it seems to course through her as well.
"Faster?"
Aubrey gulps. "Yes." It doesn't take much more and it doesn't bother her how quickly it's over, because it's probably the best orgasm she's ever experienced. She arches up off to bed, drops the remote to grip the blanket, and clamps her lips together against to muffle the sound that she makes. If euphoria and electrocution went hand in hand, this is what it would feel like.
It doesn't take Beca much longer. Aubrey is still coming down from the high when Beca twists the sheet around her hand and stops moving. Her body jerks and she fumbles for the remote, lowering the vibration very slowly, drawing it out for herself and causing Aubrey to throb between her legs – not entirely in a bad way.
They both gasp for breath as they fiddle with the strap until it's unhooked and able to put pulled out of them. Beca collapses halfway on top of her and one of her hands tangles itself in Aubrey's hair.
Even if Aubrey could find words, she wouldn't be able to say them. Beca was right. She is going to sleep well if they do that again.
xxxxx
Dinner is grilled cheese and tomato soup. Aubrey still isn't hungry, but she eats it anyway. And no one says much of anything when after showering, she attends dinner in a lengthier shirt that she steals from Brian, underwear, and no bra or pants. Conrad is wearing only a pair of underwear and nude tights, so she actually looks rather normal.
"Going out again tonight?" Beca asks him.
"Yes. You want to come?"
"Maybe another night." And while she looks interested – Aubrey gets it after encountering that reporter; it's dangerous out there.
"Why don't you just perform on the stage outside before you leave so everyone here can see?" Brian suggests.
"Huh. I never thought I'd marry a genius." Conrad looks at Brian when he doesn't respond. "Aren't you going to say anyone is a genius compared to me?"
"I'm too smart to be tricked into insulting myself," Brian answers.
"Foiled again." Conrad turns to Aubrey. "So how was it? Did you have fun?"
Aubrey nearly chokes and looks up at him.
"Did you have fun at the school?" A sly smile forms on his face. "What did you think I meant?"
Beca exhales a long breath and takes a bite of soup.
"I'm thinking about subbing in for Chloe," Aubrey admits and considers punching him.
"Seriously?" Beca asks, "Why didn't you say anything?"
"Because I'm still thinking about it." It isn't exactly an easy decision. There are a lot of cons that outweigh the pros – and she needs to think of a way to fix them. Are the kids going to be safe? Is she…stable enough…to do this right now? Nothing can outweigh the wrong answer to either of those questions. These are children.
"Well, I'm going to reopen the café this coming Monday."
"What?" Aubrey's insides freeze. That means there will be people, a lot of people, coming in and out of their home all morning. Sure, they won't actually be upstairs, but…
"I'm sorry, Aubrey, but it's my career."
Yeah, Aubrey understands that. "I know," she says and swirls her spoon around in a mostly empty bowl. Maybe if she does take the job, he'll be willing to remain closed on weekends. She won't have to be here during opening hours.
"It's going to be okay." Julia reaches across the table and stops Aubrey from playing with her spoon by placing her hand on top of Aubrey's hand. "All this just means that we're getting past the worst parts of adjusting to a new normal."
Nothing will ever be 'normal', but Aubrey just wishes they were there already – as close to normal as they can get. No more change, unless it's the new house or Chloe waking up. "What are you going to do when we move?"
"I was going to buy a new shop, but now I'm thinking I'll keep this place and expand," Conrad answers, "I could transform the upstairs into a nightclub. You get your donuts in the morning, go to work, and then come back and spend all the money you made on drinks after. I'll hire more staff and Yaaas Queens will be a 24/7 homosexual establishment."
"Need a DJ?" Beca inquires.
"Obviously. You know anyone?"
"I might."
"Will you be okay?" Aubrey asks, "That's a lot of people to be around." Especially when Beca hasn't wanted to be around any at all.
"I don't know. But I have to do something with my life, right? I can't just sit in a mansion and stew."
As fantastic as sitting in a mansion just being rich sounds, Aubrey couldn't stand having all that time to think either. But that also means she'll be gone every night and unless Aubrey goes to sleep with Chloe's parents, she'll be alone. This new normal sucks. "Maybe you could do it part time – until you adjust. You could come back around eleven and someone else could cover the rest of the night." She looks down into her bowl. "I mean, that's when the clubs get too crowded anyway, right?"
"That's not a bad idea," Beca says.
"I'm okay with that," Conrad says.
Some of the fear eases.
"New normal," Julia repeats and squeezes her hand, "It's going to be okay."
It will never be 'okay'. Not without Chloe. But maybe it won't be completely bad.