A quick DisasterModeTM Ella chapter for you all (these chapters were getting almost unsustainably long so expect some shorter ones in the near future)
Chapter 23: Different Drum
Not one second after I sent a very vulnerable text message to my best friend, she FaceTimes me. Hater.
"Before you say 'I told you so,' I say the second the call connects, "Nice pink face, by the way, know that I am very troubled about this."
"Why are you troubled?" Noa asks, sitting cross-legged on her bed.
"Because I think you're right and I don't want you to be right."
"Rude," Noa shakes her head.
"Not like that," I fumble my words, "I don't want to like him. It's too new and it's too complicated. I am still just getting to know him. I know that sounds like an excuse but I don't want to jump into anything stupid when I'm not even sure what he's looking for or how he feels or where he's at," I pause and take a deep breath. Two. Three, "And Noa? If I am being completely honest, this all feels too serious for me right now."
"What do you mean?" I know I'm doing a terrible job of explaining this.
"I mean that Alex isn't somebody I could just date casually. The relationship would get serious right off the bat and I'm not ready for that. I know that to be true. I have just reached a point of pseudo-stability in my life. I've not even completed a semester of college without incident yet. First was the whole MI6/Kyla/rehab stuff and then all of last semester I had Tai fucking with me. I need to focus on myself before getting into something serious and complicated," I wipe the tears out of my eyes, "As much as I think I like him, I need to work through some stuff on my own first. Both personal stuff and academic stuff and honestly I need to have a few casual yet healthy relationships before I get into something serious with Alex or anyone."
Noa narrows her eyes through the screen, "So you're just going to keep him on the back burner and sleep around til you're finally ready to settle down with him? That's very 'Tai' of you," Noa remarks.
"Wait Noa no, that's not what I mean at all," I protest, "What I'm doing a very poor job of saying is this: one," I held up my thumb, "I know in my head that I am not ready for a serious relationship."
"Fair," Noa concedes.
"Two," I hold up my index finger too, "I know that if I get into a serious relationship right now it will be cataclysmic for all parties. I don't want that, and I don't want to put Alex or anybody else through that. Three," I bring up my middle finger, "I need to figure out how to actually be in a healthy relationship. I haven't exactly had one of those yet nor was I raised in one, so the best thing I can do here is practice and grow up a little. Noa, I'm 19 and need to figure a lot of shit out. When I say I need to practice healthy relationships, I don't mean to use people as pawns to finally get to Alex. It means putting myself out there, and giving everything my all, and making mistakes, and growing along the way. And I want to begin that process with someone who I'm not currently friends slash mission partners with to remove some of that pressure. Maybe I end up with one of them and maybe I don't. The important thing right now is to figure myself out and not drag other people into that journey, because that would be a Tai thing to do," I take a deep breath, "Was that better?"
"Ella, that was surprisingly profound of you."
"Self-awareness is a virtue," I smile.
"Yes, it is," Noa laughs, "And not one you have." My jaw drops. "So what's the game plan then? With Alex, I mean."
"Well, we don't talk much anyway. I don't even have his number–he has mine and I told him months ago to text me first and he never did. That is pretty telling, isn't it? We can remain friends who catch up every few months or so. I do want to get him involved with Piper stuff, but that won't be for another year. I want to finish a year of college without anything life-shattering occurring and I want to meet more people and maybe we revisit this in a year or so. I'm going to leave him alone unless he texts me first and then I will just be friendly. No ulterior motives, just maintaining a friendship. In the meantime, I am going to forget about any feelings because that is for the best, and just focus on school," I take a deep breath, "And I'm not ready for any type of emotional relationship with anybody so I'm not even going to try for the time being."
"I think that's really mature of you," Noa considers.
"Thanks, Noa," I smile, "But this is all easier said than done and that really sucks."
"Ikh gleyb in dir," Noa says softly. She believes in me. In Yiddish. I smile because I have now found something much more interesting to do than worry, and that thing is to practice my Yiddish with my best friend.
I know what I told Noa the other day, but I did want to say goodbye to Alex before he left town. I swear I'm just being friendly.
I wait outside of international court. There are guards all around but naturally, I have a pass–you should know me well enough by now–so I'm allowed to stay. It feels like a hundred people exit the building before Alex and one is Kurst in handcuffs. I had never actually seen Zeljan Kurst in the flesh before and he looked positively emaciated while being frogmarched out by four guards.
Finally, I see Alex accompanied by public enemy #2 (Kurst is #1): Mrs. Tulip Jones. At least her name is thematic here in Nederlands. I want to talk to Alex but I have nothing to say to Tulip at all. I clear my throat, causing Alex to look over. He does not look much better than Kurst, truthfully. The color has drained from his face and he looks pale and shaky. His hair is messy. He is dressed up in a navy suit and tie and despite everything still manages to make it look good. Okay, so I've always had a thing for James Bond. Sue me. He says something to Tulip, who has turned to speak with a tall Dutch man in a suit and walks over to me.
"Hey, you okay?" I ask him.
"What are you doing here?" he questions, "Is there danger?"
"No, no," I backtrack, "No ulterior motives. I heard the trial was ending today and just wanted to say goodbye before you left the country. Promise."
Alex smiles softly and hugs me. Shit. The hug simultaneously lasts for one second and one hour. Not that I'm complaining or anything, but that was not a "friendly" hug. Shit. Okay. Alex eventually lets go and smiles at me. "Well, then it's been good to see you, El."
"You too," I whisper. Okay, admittedly, I did not think this interaction through. I need to get this back on track before I do something very, very stupid. I clear my throat again and take a step backward. "So when do you leave?"
"Not til tomorrow morning," Alex replies, putting his hands in his pants pockets, "So I have the evening free."
"Oh that will be nice," I shift my weight, "You don't look so good so it's probably for the best you get some rest." 'You don't look so good?' Holy shit, Cornell, pull it together.
"Wow, so that's how it's going to be?" Alex raises his eyebrows. I take another step backward and hope to be struck by lightning, "I was going to invite you to dinner and maybe for a little sightseeing before I left, but I may be forced to reconsider if I don't look so good," he smirks.
Well, it's official! I am going to throw up. How did this guy go from sickly to charming in two seconds? I take a deep breath. I'm usually pretty good at the whole flirting thing when I'm not actively fighting against it. "I, uh, you got me," I say weakly.
"So is that a yes?" he asks me.
In any other situation, I would be over the fucking moon, but I was serious about what I said to Noa. This part may be fun, but everything would crash and burn within a matter of weeks. If this could be a casual interaction then everything would be fine, but I think Alex's head would explode immediately. I keep my face unreadable–thank you, John Cornell School of Spying and Lying–and plaster a smile on my face. "I'm not sure if I'm free. I promised my grandparents I'd help them garden and I feel bad after ditching them the past few days." Lying to Alex feels weird for some reason and I don't want to think about why.
"Well, you help plant strawberries or whatever else it is you do, and give me a call when you're done." Why the fuck didn't I just say I had work tonight. I wince at the bad lie–I could have gotten out of this so easily.
It's at this moment that I make my second mistake. Before you go and judge me or question my ability to lie in a mission situation, take a step back. Above all else, I am a 19-year-old girl with a lot of big feelings bottled up and a subconscious that probably has a little too much power at this point in time. "I don't even have your number!" I blurt out before instinctively covering my mouth. Fuuuuuuuuuck.
"Well, well, well," Alex takes a step towards me and tucks a loose strand of hair behind my ear. I need to start wearing headbands or something because this simply cannot continue, "I guess I'll have to text you first then. You pick any place you like and we'll grab dinner. I'm buying."
I gulp and take a deep breath. Okay, four deep breaths. I am so screwed and Noa is going to kill me when she hears about this. I am thinking back to how nice it would have been to get struck by lightning two minutes ago when something even worse happens.
"You two are getting dinner tonight?" Mrs. Jones approaches us and every swear word in every single language I know is pinging through my head at once, "Well no need to worry, Alex, because I'd love to take the both of you out. My treat. I'm sure we could all find something to talk about." I nod weakly and swallow hard. I can feel myself about to throw up for real this time. "We will be in touch, Ella!" Mrs. Jones announces before leading Alex away from me. I run inside the court, take a left, and throw up in a trash can in the lobby. Tonight will surely be something.
I sprint back to my grandparents' house and don't even bother sneaking in this time.
"You okay, Ella?" Oma asks me when I burst open through the front door, panting. She sounds concerned.
"Just exercising," I reply, "Now I really need to get a shower, sorry Oma." I ran to the bathroom.
"But those aren't your workout clothes," Oma calls back and I simply ignore it.
I do actually shower quickly. I need to call Noa so badly but this feels more important. I need to get my heart rate down pronto.
Ten minutes later I'm out of the shower and back in my room. I'm wearing a lavender robe and am sitting cross-legged on my bed. I grab my phone and call the only person who can save me.
"Fuck do you want?" Noa answers groggily. I forget that girl is basically nocturnal and shouldn't be up for another few hours.
"Noa, I did something very bad," I blurt out.
Noa immediately looks concerned and sits up in bed. Her hair is matted to the side of her face but this moment is not a laughing matter. "Do I need to come over?" she asks and I nod my head furiously.
Noa comes into my room fifteen minutes later. I owe this woman my life. She finds me lying on my bed staring at the ceiling.
"Fuck did you do?" Noa interrogates me.
"I accidentally said yes to a date but now it's being third-wheeled by the head of British intelligence."
"Well that must be a unique combination of words," Noa laughs, "Now spill."
She is sitting next to me in bed, cross-legged. "Fine, but know that I am acutely aware of how bad I look in this situation."
"I do love your lucid moments," Noa smiles sarcastically and I ignore her.
"So I went to international court to say bye to Alex," I begin.
"You what?" She cuts me off.
"Noa, I am acutely aware that I am not an innocent victim, but you gotta let me get through this story," she giggles at this, "So anyways, I went to say goodbye to him. It felt rude not to! Plus I wanted to, but that is not important. Anyways, he walks out of court with Mrs. Jones–the MI6 lady I hate–but she went to talk to someone else so Alex walks over to me."
"The nerve!"
"Noa. Lovingly. Shut your mouth," she shakes her head and I ignore her, "So he genuinely looks sickly coming out of the building, super pale and stuff. He asks what I'm doing there and I say 'just wanted to say bye' and then he hugs me for way too long to be innocent."
"Did it feel nice at least?"
"Yeah, and that's the worst part," I groan and Noa laughs, "So I try to change the subject and ask when his flight leaves and he says tomorrow morning. Noa, this is where it gets terrible. I say something like 'Well that's good. It gives you time to rest because you don't look so good."
At this point, Noa is howling with laughter and I punch her in the arm pretty hard. She ignores me and makes me finish the rest of the story. "So anyways, he's like 'Oh, so that's how it's going to be? I was going to invite you to dinner and maybe for a little sightseeing before I left, but I may be forced to reconsider if I don't look so good."
"NO, HE DIDN'T," Noa roars, "How did you possibly respond to that?"
"I just mumbled something like 'Haha you got me,' and he asked if that meant yes or no. I said I was busy tonight helping my grandparents with their garden. He said to just give him a call once I'm all done because no way that would take all night," I pause my storytelling because this part does not exactly paint me in the best light.
"Ella, my love, what did you say?" Noa pries, knowing it's bad.
"Noa Aviva Yaron, have you no faith in me?" I ask, trying to change the subject.
"Ella Marian Cornell," she returns the favor of full-naming me, "Spill your guts."
"Noa, it's so bad," I whine, "I said 'I don't even have your number,'" I put my head in my hands while Noa laughs so hard she's crying. "Don't even start with me. I'm young and dumb and that's my excuse."
"That'll stand up in a court of law," Noa teases.
"I am so awkward at this point but Alex somehow is perfectly smooth and does the tucking-my-hair-behind-my-ear-thing and says 'Then I'll text you. You pick the place and I'll buy you dinner.''
"Oy Gevalt, this boy is so in love with you," Noa shakes her head, "And you seriously need to start wearing headbands around him."
"That is the problem! If this was all one-sided it would be so much easier. Also, I had the exact same thought about the headbands. Anyway, I was just going to fake a Revengers-related emergency and skip dinner with him when Mrs. Jones came over and overheard our conversation. She heard we might be getting dinner and immediately butted in saying she was coming with us. So I went from a date I shouldn't go on to a date where I am certainly going to be recruited to do intelligence work," I sigh.
"Wow," Noa shakes her head laughing, "Your life truly is a movie."
"Yeah, a horror film," I sigh.
"So what is the plan?"
"I don't think I'm getting out of this, truthfully," I admit, "So I need to dodge both romantic and professional advances tonight."
"Would it really be so bad if you had fun tonight?" Noa asks out of the blue, "Not like, the British intelligence thing–fuck them–but with the Alex thing."
"It would be very bad actually," I protest, "I told you I'm not ready to be in a relationship."
"Not ready or just scared?" She challenges me.
"Not ready."
"Isn't there something to be said about the right person?"
"Noa, how would I even know if he's the right person?"
"By going on a date to test the waters and see how you feel, טיפשה," Noa calls me stupid.
"And isn't that the definition of leading him on?"
"Going to one British-government sponsored dinner that he invited you to and seeing how you feel afterward is not leading him on. It's getting a little closure, possibly. It's just afterward where you have to make a decision and stick with it."
"Why am I the bad guy," I whisper, "For trying to stick to what I know is best for me?" I whisper.
"Wait, what? Ella, no. I never said you were the bad guy. I just want to make sure you're saying no for the right reasons. If you really don't want to be in a relationship, then stick to it. I just don't want you missing out on something great because you're scared."
"When did you get so wise?"
"I'm a goddamn genius and you'd better never forget it," Noa shrugs.
"So what do I wear to a half-date, half-business dinner anyways?"
"Ella, you have to decide what vibe you're going for. Is it 'I don't see this as anything special so I'm going to wear the same clothes I gardened in and have dirt in my hair?' Is it strictly professional and do you dress up business formal? Is it so casual you're wearing the same clothes you would any other day? Or are you dressing up like you would for a real date?"
"I risk looking like a real asshole in every single one of these scenarios, Noa. If I wear a fucking suit to dinner I'll look like I actually want to hear Mrs. Jones' offer. Not to mention, that's super pretentious. If I show up in crusty overalls with dirt in my hair that's just disrespectful. I feel like there's better ways to get my point across than actually being gross."
"Your loss," Noa shrugs, "I thought it was brilliant." I ignore her.
"Same thing for my normal casual clothes. If I show up in cargo pants and a band t-shirt, I'm again an asshole for being too casual."
"Depends on the band," Noa corrects me, "Your Velvet Underground shirt screams either pretentious or degenerate. However, if you pull out a Pink Floyd or The Who or The Beatles shirt, it'll show you're interested in his culture. You know, cuz he's British."
"Noa, I am genuinely forgetting why I even talk to you."
"Because I'm charming and wise, obviously."
"Yeah, yeah," I shake my head, "Anyways, I can't dress cute like I'm actually going on a date because I do not wish to pursue anything with Alex and that would be leading him on," I conclude.
"Again, are you actually anti-relationship or are you just scared?" Noa challenges.
"I'm anti-relationship," I reply, sick of her asking me that.
"I don't believe you."
"You think I'm lying to you?" I exclaim. Noa is the only person on Earth that knows the full truth about me and I'm a little hurt she would even suggest this.
"No," Noa shakes her head, "I think you're lying to yourself." Ouch.
"I'm not scared to ask him out or anything. Noa, we literally have a date tonight," I reply.
"I don't think you're scared to ask him out. I think you're scared tonight would actually go really well."
"Why, because I don't think I deserve joy?" I shoot back.
"No, because you know that you do. You clearly have a very high opinion of Alex. I think you're scared that tonight will go so well that you keep dating him which will either blow up in your face or force you to grow up and pull yourself together faster than you want to."
"So I'm selfish and bratty now?"
"Ella, no. Chill out. I'm not trying to villainize you for making a choice. As I told you before, I just want to make sure you're making that choice for the right reasons," Noa sighed.
"Okay. I'm sorry. I appreciate it, really. It just feels like you're doubting my abilities here."
"Ella, everybody knows you're Wonder Woman. Now focus up, we have an outfit to find."
I end up finding a mix of cute and casual. I'm wearing dark blue jeans and a white cropped T-shirt with colorful embroidered flowers across the middle. I have this cream-colored cardigan that Ava must have left here a few years ago and my Doc Martens. My hair is braided down the back and I'm wearing a thick lavender headband. It's casual without being disrespectful, but it certainly isn't date wear either.
Alex texts me about an hour after Noa gets here so the restaurant is another thing we debate. We also, of course, have to wait a respectable amount of time before texting him back. 45 minutes after he texts me, I respond with the name of this little Indonesian restaurant just a ten-minute walk from my grandparents' house. It's a sit-down place and super authentic, but could not be considered fancy by anybody. Plus, it's delicious and I won't be able to get good Indonesian food once I go back to England.
Noa walks me towards the restaurant and leaves me about a block away. "Ella, you're going to be fine. Take deep breaths and just be rational," I open my mouth to say something, but Noa cuts me off and says: "I love you. You've got this. Call me if you need anything!" before turning around and walking away.
I take her advice and practice that military breathing exercise from my therapist. It feels a little weird to mentally prepare for a half-date the same way the military prepares to go into battle, but it's the only thing that works.
I finally get the courage to walk up to the restaurant–a small place called Siti's. Alex is standing outside. He's wearing khakis and a dark blue dress shirt with the top two buttons undone. I am officially going to die tonight.
He smiles warmly when he sees me and pulls me in for a hug. He smells so good. "Ella," he says into my hair, "You made it!"
I pull away feeling a little frazzled. "I'm underdressed," I blurt out.
"You look great," he assures me. He would be wrong. "Before we go in, I wanted to apologize to you," Alex begins.
"Oh? What for?"
"That Mrs. Jones invited herself along. I know you don't like her."
"She doesn't respect me."
"Yeah," Alex pauses, "But I really do think that tonight is her trying to apologize."
"That, or recruit me on another stupid mission," I mumble.
Alex laughs sharply. "Let's hope it's not that. Now, let's go inside–this place smells incredible." We begin walking into the restaurant and he even holds the door for me.
"Thanks. Have you ever had Indonesian food before?"
"Nope," Alex shakes his head, "My ancestors colonized other nations." Despite everything, I burst out laughing.
"Then allow me to order for you."
"I trust you completely," Alex salutes me and smiles as he leads me towards Mrs. Jones and our table. I am seriously going to throw up again.
"Hello, Mrs. Jones," I say cordially. Alex selects the seat across from her and I sit next to him. Sue me! I'm not sitting next to the devil.
"Ella, lovely to see you again," she replies, just as professionally.
"It's 'Elsje,' here," I reply. Mrs. Jones nods.
"So, Elsje," she says, emphasizing my name, "What are you doing in Den Haag?" she asks, grossly messing up the pronunciation.
"Ik woon hier," I say flatly. I am in no mood.
"Pardon?" she asks and I repeat myself louder, still in Dutch. "I'll ask that we please use English at the table," she says sternly.
"Mrs. Jones," Alex protests but I smile wide.
"Of course, Mrs. Jones," I say sickly sweet, "I apologize for speaking the language of this beautiful country. My family has a house here and I'm visiting them for the summer." Alex shoots me a very confused look and I just signal for him to wait.
I look at my menu even though I already know what I'm going to order: Nasi Jinggo for me and Nasi Goreng for Alex. They're both delicious here and I fully intend on eating from both plates. Not in a date way, of course. It's in a 'this restaurant is too delicious to only order one thing' way.
The table remains silent. I can tell that it's making Alex uncomfortable, but I love an awkward silence more than anything. In fact, I revel in it, especially when it's my doing.
Finally, our waiter arrives. He is Dwi, Siti's younger son "Hallo," I greet him and his face lights up when he recognizes me. Okay. I understand it's objectively bad for people to be able to recognize me, but in my defense, he recognizes me with dyed hair and contacts and this place is like my church. It's that good.
Mrs. Jones cuts me off and begins ordering in English. Dwi looks at her blankly. "Mrs. Jones," I say sweetly, "My friend Dwi here doesn't speak English." She tries again in French which again, Dwi does not know. He only knows Dutch, Indonesian, and Javanese. "If only I were allowed to use another language at this table," I wink at Alex and Dwi.
Mrs. Jones maintains her composure. "Sure, Elsje, have at it." And with that, the power has tipped back in my favor. I grin.
I recite Alex, Mrs. Jones, and my orders off to Dwi in perfect Indonesian–I may not be fluent yet but I sure can order a meal.
"That wasn't Dutch," Alex remarks.
"No, it wasn't," I reply and take a sip of my water.
"What was that, Indonesian?" Mrs. Jones raises an eyebrow.
"A lady never orders dinner and tells," I smile at her. Objectively, somewhere in my brain recognizes that I'm being a bitch but I also don't care.
"How many languages do you speak anyways?" she asks.
"More than you, probably," I stare her down.
"Well that's just great," she said, "With this new assignment, we could really use someone with strong language skills.
I stand up immediately. "No. Absolutely not. I won't even entertain the idea." I push my chair in, walk away from the table, and leave the restaurant. This is not how tonight is going to go. I pause to tie my bootlace, which had come undone in my rush to get out of there when I hear the door open. "I'm not interested," I mumble, ignoring the tears beginning to well up in my eyes.
"Elsje, Sayangku, what is it?" a voice says in Indonesian. Siti? I turn around to see the owner of the restaurant. She is an incredibly short–not even five foot tall–Indonesian woman with her graying black hair braided down her back and in a hairnet.
"Halo, Siti," I greet her.
"What's wrong?" she asks, continuing in Indonesian, "You ran away."
"Sorry, Siti," I stare at my feet. It's still strange being this much taller than someone who isn't a literal child, "I brought some guests to dinner and I regret it. One is my friend but the other doesn't respect me."
She walks over to me and holds my hand. Her hands are small and wrinkly but as comforting as my mother's–if not more. "You are a good girl," she assures me, "Do you want me to kick them out? I will refuse to cook for them."
I laugh and wipe my eyes. "It's okay, Siti, I wouldn't want to deny her your food. I wouldn't do that to my worst enemy."
Her eyes got serious quickly. "Elsje, I mean it. I will kick her out now and leave her hungry." I hug her, and at that moment I see Alex in the doorway of the restaurant.
"It's okay, really," I say, letting go of the hug, "I'm going to talk to Alex," I gesture towards him, "And let him explain."
Siti's eyes brightened up, "Is this your boyfriend and his mom?"
"Siti, no! He's just a friend and she is his boss trying to give me a job I don't want–it's too far from home," I lie, "I'll be right back inside, promise. And please, feed everybody," I plead.
She nods once before walking back towards the restaurant. "If you're not back in 5 minutes I'm coming back out here," she declares and leaves Alex and I to talk.
"What the fuck was that?" I ask him, switching back to English, "We just ordered our food and she's already trying to recruit me?"
"Ella–" he starts.
"My name is Elsje," I hiss.
"Right, yes," He shifts uncomfortably, "Elsje, I had no idea she was going to do that."
I feel the tears welling up again but I force them to go away. "I don't want to go back there."
"Please come and eat dinner? We can eat fast and then get the hell out of here," he pleads.
"What's it to you? How do I know you weren't in on this too?" I demand.
"Elsje, please. I need you to trust me that I won't lie to you."
I stare him down. "Okay, then why did you invite me to dinner tonight?"
Alex looks visibly nervous and I know immediately that he is going to cop out. In fact, I respect the move and will only go back in if he lies to me. "I just wanted to see you again before I left town. You know, buy you dinner as a thanks for a fun weekend." Decision made.
"Okay. I'll finish dinner," I declare. Alex looks visibly relieved as I said this, "But Alex, you have to back me up on the mission thing. I'm not going." He nods and holds the door open for me.
I nod at Siti from across the restaurant–she has been watching the front door like a hawk to make sure I come back inside.
"Mrs. Jones," I say, sitting back in my seat.
"Elsje," she replies, "Nice to have you back." I nod and signal to Dwi that I want a new glass of water. I'm not drinking anything that was left on the table with the head of an intelligence agency. He brings it over at once and I thank him.
I stay quiet other than that. Alex tries a few times to make conversation, but Mrs. Jones and I are staring each other down. He gives up eventually and just focuses on the table.
Finally, against all odds, our food arrives. Mine is served wrapped in a banana leaf which I expertly unwrap. I pause to inhale the wonderful smell of the food before digging in. Mrs. Jones doesn't realize that I can be quiet forever. I'm a middle child, damnit. As long as I can just get through eating my meal without her trying to recruit me again, everything will be just fine. This dinner has no stakes for me. I know the owners and they would never slip anything into my food–maybe having people know me is beneficial after all.
We all eat in silence until Alex finally speaks up. "This is really good."
"I'm glad you like it," I smile. "This is one of my favorite places here." I pick up my spoon and steal a bite of rice off of his plate and he laughs. "What? Just had to see for myself."
Mrs. Jones clears her throat. "Now that you're feeling chatty again, it's time you listen to me for just a moment."
"Mrs. Jones, I'll leave right now," I threaten. I mean it and she knows it.
"If I'm paying for your dinner, I request you at least hear me out," she counters.
Looking her dead in the eyes, I pull out my wallet and throw down a 20 euro note. "I'd rather go Dutch." Mrs. Jones sighs deeply. My hatred for intelligence agencies didn't start and doesn't end with Mrs. Jones but certainly includes her.
"What can I offer you for ten minutes of your time?"
"You have nothing that I want," I focus on my noodles.
"Fine," Mrs. Jones huffs, "I wanted us to have an adult conversation, but it seems like that's impossible," I quickly grab my phone and angle it near her under the table, "You're going to listen to me for ten minutes or I'm going to deport you."
"Ma'am, I have citizenship here and you have no power in the Netherlands," I laugh abruptly, shocked at her 'punishment.'
"You will not be allowed back in the United Kingdom for as long as I am in power. Goodbye Oxford, goodbye whatever it is you do in England. You're done."
My jaw drops. Alex opens his mouth to protest but I shake my head. "I can fight my own battles," I mumble to him, "Mrs. Jones, are you saying that if I don't listen to your proposal, you'll ban me from entering England and withdraw me from uni?"
"That is exactly what I'm saying."
"Fine," I shrug, "You have ten minutes to talk before I exit this restaurant."
She clears her throat. "Thank you. Now we can finally begin," I stare her down, ignoring my food, "Alex doesn't know this yet, but his next assignment will be in America. Washington DC, to be exact," I already do not like where this is going, "We both understand that you know the area quite well. It has recently come to our attention that the CIA is working in tandem with the different embassies in the US to spy on England, which of course I cannot allow."
"It isn't me," I shudder. There is no way I am being blamed for this right now.
"Oh, I believe that," Mrs. Jones responds, "I keep a close eye on everything happening in my country. You haven't been back to America since Christmas, nor have you even been to London since then, except to fly to Amsterdam in June. I had lost track of you after that–you're no longer my problem once you leave my country–but it seems as though you ended up here."
"You've been spying on me?" I whisper.
"Of course. It's not every day I have an American spy in my country."
"Mrs. Jones, I have never done anything to threaten England!" I exclaim, "I cannot believe–"
She cuts me off. "Now, now. No need to get defensive. I already know this. That is not what this conversation is about. What I need you and Alex to do is to fly to DC in three weeks and get a handle on the situation."
"Could you elaborate, please? I'm confused," I say, my mind racing.
Mrs. Jones smiles. "Of course! With your knowledge of the inner workings of the CIA–you know those in charge of making decisions at the CIA–as well as your ability to speak and read all of these different languages, you will be our eyes and ears on the inside. You and Alex will go around and check out the different embassies as well as CIA HQ and report back to me what you find. As allies, our countries need to be able to trust each other."
My head is spinning now. MI6 wants me to spy on my dad? My family? The CIA where I grew up and the diplomats I used to visit as a child who helped me learn my array of languages in the first place? I hold onto the table with my free hand and take a deep breath. I cannot believe that she just said that. "Are you serious?" I ask, incredulously.
"I do not make it a habit to make jokes, Elsje." I freeze. This cannot be happening. The country I have no connection to minus attending Uni there is asking me to betray my home and family? I had no idea the CIA was even spying on MI6. I don't even realize I'm hyperventilating until Alex shakes my shoulder.
"Hey, are you okay?" he asks me. He looks concerned. I am concerned. How could she even ask this of me? I haven't even touched (official) intelligence work since that mission in Texas. I feel my eyes start to well up but I won't cry. Not here. Not in front of her. I keep breathing and breathing and choking on the air until finally someone grabs me by the arm and leads me outside. It's Alex. He helps me sit down on the curb in front of the restaurant. "I think you're having a panic attack," he said, sitting down next to me, "Are you alright?" I shake my head and it makes me dizzy. "Hey. Can you say anything?" he asks me, looking me in the eyes.
"I hate her," I whisper. Alex nods but he does not get it.
"Shhh," Alex whispers, "She's coming."
Mrs. Jones looms over us. "Elsje, I wanted to apologize. That was inappropriate of me. Let's just call this water under the bridge, okay?"
I stare her down. "I don't work for any intelligence agencies," I keep my words measured, "You are going to stop meddling in my life and let me finish my degree at Oxford. The day after graduation, I'll leave your sorry country. Until then, let's just not cross paths again, Mrs. Jones. I'll stay out of your way and just focus on my studies as long as you stay out of mine. Do we have a deal?" I look up at her from my crouched position on the curb. I'm holding my phone in one hand and clutching my right ankle with the other. I can feel the outline of my bowie knife under my jeans. I am itching to use it but I stop myself. I control my hand and my breathing. Deep breath in. Deep breath out.
"I will make that deal," Mrs. Jones replies curtly. I release my grip around my ankle. She agrees. I never have to see her again.
"Is everything okay out here?" a voice asks in English. I look up. It's Aminah, Siti's daughter-in-law. She is holding a brown paper bag and looks very concerned. Aminah is the only one in the family who speaks English, which is likely why she was sent out.
"Everything is just fine," Mrs. Jones says flippantly, "Please go back inside, we are okay."
"No," Aminah is not budging, "You go home. Elsje can stay."
Mrs. Jones sighs loudly. "Alex, come on."
Alex says something to Mrs. Jones about walking me home. It's the most thinly veiled excuse I've ever heard, and she is definitely going to think we're fucking, but that's Alex's business, not mine.
Mrs. Jones says something else, but I tune her out. She finally walks away and Aminah helps me up off the curb.
Switching back to her native Indonesian, she asks "Are you okay, Elsje? Siti sent me out to remove that woman from the property."
"I'm fine, Aminah, thank you."
She hands me a paper bag. "From Siti," she explains and walks back inside. I say another silent thanks to both Aminah and Siti and open up the bag. It's filled with 2 Klepon, a sticky Indonesian dessert. I hand one to Alex and pop the other in my mouth.
"Are you sure you're okay?" Alex asks me.
"I'm just fine. Let's just go."
We begin walking towards my grandparents' house. I keep my hands in the pockets of my cardigan. I don't want to accidentally brush hands with him. We are walking so close and my head is absolutely spinning. The combination of being harassed by an intelligence agency and this 'date' I don't even want to be on is making my stomach churn. "So," Alex starts, "Are you up for a little sightseeing? It is my last night in town."
I pretend to consider it for a second before finally lying well. "I'd love to, but I have to work the breakfast shift tomorrow. If I don't get my 8 hours I'll be a mess tomorrow."
"Too bad," Alex says.
"Mmm," I reply, staring at the sidewalk, "Yeah, I think it's best if I just go home. You seriously don't have to walk me back."
"I know you are perfectly capable of getting home safe by yourself," Alex smiles, "I like to walk around after I eat anyways so it's really no problem."
We walk for a few more minutes in silence. I walk as fast as I can without it being suspicious, and Alex just looks happy to be here. It's killing me. He looks like he wants to say something but after the events of tonight, I am not feeling very conversational.
We finally reach my grandparents' driveway and I turn back to look at him. "Well," I begin awkwardly, "This is me. Maybe I'll see you in a few weeks when I'm back in England. Have a safe flight home." I salute him before turning back around and beginning to walk up the driveway.
"Ella, wait," Alex stops me and I turn around. I am a wreck and there are tears in my eyes and he cannot see me like this.
"Not like this," I choke out before running inside and slamming the door behind me.
Oma, alerted by the noise, enters the living room to see me sobbing. "Elsje, Zeeskeit, what is it? What has happened?" She wraps me in her arms. I just cry and cry until her shoulder is soaking wet and my voice has gone hoarse. "Liefje, tell me what's wrong."
Some random notes as I stand on my soapbox (it's been a minute since I've truly yapped in on the these notes sections):
1) This chapter is named for the song "Different Drum" by the Stone Poneys
2) Related, but soon I will be publishing a "tracklist" chapter for this fic with different songs that remind me of each chapter. I'm excited to combine my love for music and joy for writing this story:)
3) Tell me why I was reading back through my old fanfiction and getting emotional (I wrote "The Book of Sad" back in high school and I *honestly* kind of cooked)
4) Don't expect any new chapters until May, but expect more coming this summer! I have so many ideas for this story and am having so much fun writing it again. I finish school in May and plan on making some serious progress (and probably cleaning up some of the earlier chapters) this summer after like five long years
5) If there's anything you are liking or not liking about this story let me know! I'm writing this for the fun of it all, but if anyone has any suggestions I am happy to hear
6) Noa Aviva Yaron has my entire heart and is currently my favorite character to write. She keeps Ella humble which the world desperately needs. One that note-do we agree with Ella on her decisions re:Alex? Are we team Noa? Team Tom and Sabina? Is anybody handling this situation like a proper adult?
7) The chapter in which we learn that Alex may actually have rizz but Ella decisively does not