Flicker (36 page)

              Alex burst out into the overcast afternoon, and Elise shivered in a gust of wind as he towed her across the street to the park. It wasn't overly cold out, but compared to the warm weather they had been having, the clouds and breeze together were enough to raise goosebumps on Elise's skin. Annoyed, she reached out for her anger at Alex, letting it warm her.
How dare he touch me like this?
She demanded of herself.
And what am I doing, letting him
?

              Without a word, she jerked her arm from his grip. He let her go without a fight, watching her through narrowed eyes. The silence stretched between them, each tightly closed away from the other. All of the nasty things Alex had said to her, every lie he'd ever told and every bruise he'd even accidentally given her chased their way through Elise's head; she had the feeling he was thinking of similar things. If he wasn't going to lash out at her, Elise didn't want to be the one to make the first move to rekindle their fight-- but the moment dragged, and Elise felt her patience quickly eroding.

              “So?” She finally demanded, shrugging aggressively. “What now?” The wind blew her hair into her face, and she shoved it behind her ear with a strangled sound of pure frustration.

              Alex sighed softly, shaking his head. “Go home, Elise,” he ordered quietly, his voice tight; he tossed her bag so that it landed at her feet. She could see his knuckles whitening as he clenched his fists, and wondered what he was holding back. Then it occurred to her that it might be the impulse to hit her.

              Without another word, Elise grabbed the bag and spun on her heel. As she stalked away, she absolutely refused to give him the satisfaction of looking back at him-- and for once, she didn't have the sensation that he was watching her go, either.

              She pounded her hands on the piano keys, fully aware of the number of times she'd been told not to do that and in the moment, quite contentedly not caring in the least. She was through doing what she was told, through letting anyone else dictate to her. And so she pounded the keys, playing Liszt and Mozart and Beethoven-- pieces that were aggressive enough to suit her mood. Her parents came home from work, and very tactfully ignored her as they went about their evening routines. Elise played until her fingers ached, and her arms and shoulders felt dead. Finally, Scriabin gave way to Chopin, and she sighed deeply. She'd gotten everything out of her system; now it was time to think.

              A whisper of fabric behind her told Elise she wasn't alone, but she didn't need to turn around to know her mother was standing in the kitchen doorway.

              “I love it when you play,” Marie said softly.

              Elise stretched, rotating her shoulders in a vain attempt to loosen the taut muscles there. “Thanks, mom,” she said, trying to be patient. What she really needed was time alone to figure this out-- she didn't want to waste time patronizing her mother.

              So of course, Marie sat down at the dining room table, pulling the chair around so she faced her daughter. “You know,” she said thoughtfully. “I couldn't stand your father when I first met him.”

              Elise raised her eyebrows; this wasn't the direction she'd expected the conversation to take at all. “Really?” She asked curiously, turning on the piano bench so she could watch her mother's face.

              Her mom nodded, her faint smile nostalgic. “I was in my third year of college, and he was a senior. I thought he was the worst, most arrogant show-off on the face of the earth. All those silly books and movies talk about love at first sight, or about meeting your true love, but if I'd followed that advice, I never would have spoken to your dad.”

              “What did he do?” Elise giggled, fascinated. She'd known her parents met in college, but she'd never heard this version of the story.

              Marie sighed, pressing her fingertips against her forehead for a moment. “Do not get any ideas from this,” she muttered. Elise grinned. “Your father always had to be the center of attention,” Marie continued, sounding both loving and exasperated. “The first time I saw him, he was standing on a balcony at a fraternity party, wearing some ridiculous outfit and threatening to jump into a pool down on the lawn. I believe there was a great deal of alcohol involved.” Elise snorted with laughter as she tried to picture this.

              “That sounds like a great plan,” she chuckled sarcastically. “Do I want to ask how it went?”

              Marie shook her head, rolling her eyes. “Oh, very poorly.”

              “So, he changed?” Elise asked curiously, leaning her chin on her elbow. She giggled. “Or did you get to know the real dad buried deep under the frat boy front?”

              Her mom laughed. “Neither, actually. Of course he mellowed as he got older-- most of them do-- but the same aspects of his personality are still there. What changed was my mind.”

              Elise raised her eyebrows silently, wondering where her mother was going with this. Seeing her daughter's expression, Marie smiled softly. “Once I decided that the things I liked about him outweighed the things I didn't, I learned to manage my expectations of him. If I was realistic with myself about what expectations of mine he could and couldn't fulfill, I found that I was much happier, because I wasn't hoping for things that would never happen.” She sighed a little. “I'm not saying to settle for someone who makes you unhappy-- but remember that no one can be happy all of the time; in the long term, happy relationships involve compromise.”

              Frowning, Elise thought about that for a minute. Was the issue here really Alex, or was it her expectations of him? She wanted him to tell her the truth-- was that really such a thing to ask? But then again, barely a month ago she hadn't even considered telling him the truth about herself-- was it really fair of her to demand that he instantaneously overcome the same tendency? She bit her lip, considering. He had nine hundred years of actions and experiences that had, she knew and understood, been traumatic the first time around; even if they were things that also related to her, like sharing information about the Court, he likely had a painful history attached to the information that would be difficult for him to relive. Was it really so much for him to ask that she trust him to protect her until he was able to tell her everything? Yes, it was-- she didn't trust anyone. But at the same time, no, it wasn't, because it was clear she already did.

              As Elise thought, her mom got up and began to putter around the room; Elise hardly noticed. She wanted Alex to be honest, to stop manipulating her, but to be fair, he probably wanted her to be more consistent in her moods and the kinds of interaction she could handle. Just as she'd demanded his patience with the process of her recovery, so she had to understand that she was trying to un-learn three years of habit-- he would have to overcome nine
hundred
years. She could barely even comprehend the magnitude of the time he'd been alive; it really wasn't up to her to decide how much time he needed. She decided firmly that in the long term, what she wanted was reasonable; however, she had to have more patience with his process to get there.

              She looked up at her mom, her eyes clear. “Thanks,” she said with a smile. “That helped.” She got up from the piano, closing the lid lovingly over the keys. “And by the way, if you have pictures of dad from back in his wild college days, now is a really good time.”

              Marie chuckled. “Oh, no-- if I show you those, he'll probably show you photos of me from back then.” She started to walk back into the kitchen, but paused in the doorway and looked back over her shoulder at her daughter. “One more piece of advice, for what it's worth?”

              “Hmm?” Elise said, already a little distracted as she thought of how best to apologize to Alex tomorrow-- would before Latin class work, or should she wait for the privacy of the park after school?

              “One of the best ways your father and I have found to make our relationship last, is to never go to bed angry.” Marie smiled once more as she left the room. “Just for what it's worth.”

              Grinning, Elise grabbed her phone from her pocket and crossed the foyer into the study to have a little privacy while she called Alex.

              The phone rang in her ear for a few moments as Elise paced back and forth across the carpet, chewing on her fingernail and hoping he wouldn't be too angry to pick up. Abruptly, though, she frowned, pausing-- she could have sworn she'd heard something. She took the phone away from her ear, listening intently; there it was again, just outside the dark front window. Then she heard his voice, sounding cautiously amused, “Hello?”

              Elise started to laugh as she ran back into the foyer and threw the front door open. “What are you doing here?” She asked, unable to keep the smile off her face.

              Alex had paused partway up the front steps to answer his phone, and now stood there, one hand on the bannister as he watched her. “I came to apologize,” he said blandly.

              In response, Elise held up her phone. “What do you think I was calling you to do?” She replied wryly, leaning against the door frame. Alex chuckled.

              “Look,” he began somberly, but Elise cut him off.

              “I'm sorry,” she said in a rush. Aware that her parents were probably listening intently from the kitchen, she stepped out onto the porch and pulled the door shut behind her, shivering slightly in the cold evening air. Alex came up the stairs to meet her half way, his hands in his pockets as if he was forcibly restraining himself from touching her. Suddenly, that bothered her-- he shouldn't have to hold back that way. Not when she wanted to touch him, too.

              Without pausing to second-guess the impulse, she bounded across the scant distance left between them and threw herself into his arms.

              The last four Wednesdays, Elise and Alex had spent the afternoon together at Elise's house, cramming in a focused training session before her parents got home and then working on their homework together, their heads bent studiously at the kitchen table under Marie's approving gaze. This afternoon, however, Alex had suggested that they take some time to just be together. Elise sensed that beneath his calm exterior, he was growing more and more agitated about Rashid, and that this weekend would be a decisive turning point for them in the power struggle.

              She still wasn't sure what she was going to tell Rashid, but she felt her clock ticking on the subject. She had to call him before they went to New York on Saturday so she could meet Sarah-- she had to give him her answer, whatever it was. She still had no idea which way she would go, despite the fact that the subject had occupied her mind almost entirely since Monday night. After she and Alex had made up yesterday evening, she'd lost the momentary distraction of their fight, and the weight of Rashid's proposition had descended on her once again, leaving her fidgety and distracted, reluctant to be around Alex in case she slipped and revealed what she was thinking. The distance that had caused between them, she reflected, probably had something to do with his proposal that they spend the afternoon today just being together.

              It also most likely had something to do with his choice of venue. Elise kept her thoughts very carefully to herself as Alex drove over the small bridge that would take them to the garden's parking lot; she could see him casting her concerned glances out the corner of his eye. That wouldn't do-- if he was going to take the time to spend with her when he was also tensed to the point of cracking, then she owed it to him to be focused on him alone. She held in a deep breath as she shoved the thoughts of Rashid into the dark vault she'd created inside herself and sealed them in. When she was finished, she returned Alex's worried gaze with a little smile, and saw him relax marginally. Elise reached for Alex's hand where it rested on the gear shift, brushing her fingertips over his knuckles. “Thank you for this,” she murmured.

              He flipped his hand over in one of those too-fast-to-see movements and caught her fingers, squeezing for just a second as he smiled back at her. “You never have to thank me for spending time with you,” he replied softly.

              Once they'd parked, Elise led the way through the ivy-laden, wrought-iron archway and along the garden's flower-lined gravel paths, past lush thickets of goldenrod that glowed with brilliant autumnal hues. Today, she took a different, more circuitous route, and Alex followed her across a green field dotted with fall crocuses and around the edge of a little pond, laughing as she skipped under the heavy sky. The wind picked up, blowing her hair into her face, but Elise didn't care-- it felt wonderful to be outside. Pausing in the middle of the field, she closed her eyes, spread her arms wide, and spun around and around. Inhaling deeply, she breathed in the pure, blissful power that nature had to offer her. When she turned to Alex once more, she knew she was practically glowing with it.

              He stood barely a few feet from her, smiling as he watched her, and when she opened her eyes, he reached a hand out for her. Without even thinking, she took it, marveling once again at the ease with which she could touch him. He took the lead now, pulling her gently up a sloping hill and between the graceful branches of a large cluster of weeping willows, until they reached the hidden gazebo where they'd sheltered from the rain the first time Elise brought him here.