The Interview

Chapter Five

But it was all no use. There was no turning back the clock now. Mistakes had been made and she would have to own up to them now. She resolved to go downstairs as soon as possible in order to make sure that she wouldn't also appear lazy to boot. On her way down the stairs, she wondered how used Elphaba was to having friends stay over at her place. How many of those friends had nodded off in her car or maybe on her couch, requiring her aid in order to reach a more adequate sleeping location? She would hate to be that first to ever have done such a thing, the memory of the incident forever engraved in Elphaba's head.

'Hey, still remember how you fell asleep in my car that one time? How I had to drag you up the stairs all on my own?'

Elphaba's voice in her head was so taunting that, instead of finding her in the kitchen where she was probably having her Sunday morning breakfast, Glinda was severely tempted to run away from her by leaving through the front door, which she was so conveniently passing this very moment. She didn't, however, for she also understood that it was her own fears and anxieties talking, not her emerald friend.

Approaching the kitchen, she began to tiptoe, not wanting to be heard and anticipated. She would much rather be the one to sneak up and survey the situation first than having Elphaba's eyes scrutinise her the moment she appeared in her field of vision.

Luckily, it seemed like her attempt at stealth was crowned with success. Standing in the doorway, presumably undetected, she watched Elphaba, engrossed in a book and slurping steaming hot tea. The other chairs at the small kitchen table were empty, safe for one, which was covered by a blue hoodie that Glinda had not seen before. It didn't quite look like Elphaba's style, which made her slightly nervous.

Her eyes scoured the room for Elphaba's brother or perhaps another visitor, but could find no sign of the jacket's owner. She was hopeful, but not convinced that they were alone. Unfortunately, whether there indeed was another person or not, she could hardly hide in her guest room for the rest of the day. Still a little tense, she nodded to herself in encouragement and moved closer, this time purposefully making noise to herald her arrival.

Somewhat begrudgingly, Elphaba lifted her gaze to determine the source of the footsteps and rustling, but when she realised who it was, her lips twitched into a pleased, crooked smirk. The all-important book quickly became irrelevant.

"Hey, there! Good morning," she said, arguably a little too cheerfully.

Glinda's reaction turned out a bit more moderate.

"Morning."

Walking up to the table, she once more took the opportunity to ascertain that no one else was currently present.

"Shell isn't at home?" she asked and Elphaba shook her head.

"I have not the slightest inkling where that sad fool might have spent the night, but one thing is sure: if he didn't sleep here, he won't be back before noon. He simply can't do without his twelve hours of sleep."

"Like a polar opposite to you?" Glinda was intrigued. "Perhaps," she mused, "it's how the universe preserves its balance: for every short sleeper there must be a sack rat."

Elphaba cast her a funny look, seemingly not at all convinced.

"I have a better explanation for you," she snorted. "The thing is, that short sleeping is considered a hereditary sleeping disorder. In my opinion, our wildly different sleep patterns only confirm what Shell and I already suspected since we were little: that we are of different parentage."

Glinda had no reply to that. Even in this modern world, such a revelation would still be shocking enough to some, especially considering the fact that Elphaba's supposed father was a man of faith and a religious leader at that. She herself was only mildly taken aback by Elphaba's bluntness. Her offhand mention of such a delicate matter begged the question whether she truly didn't mind or only pretended not to. Ultimately, Glinda decided that it was better not to probe any further for now, just in case.