The Interview

Chapter Eleven

They stood in pregnant silence in the kitchen. He was leaning against the counter, watching while she tried to cover her anxiety by busying herself with the groceries she'd brought along. Perhaps he was waiting for her to step up and start with an apology, but if that was the case, he'd have to wait for quite a while; she simply couldn't summon up the courage to broach the matter without being prompted.

After a few tense minutes, Fiyero unexpectedly left. Glinda closed the door of the cabinet in confusion, craning her neck to see what he was up to. He'd clearly been anticipating their confrontation as much as she had. As the wronged party without any blame whatsoever, why would he try to avoid it?

In the meantime, he'd turned on his console and connected a second controller.

"You ready to kick my ass again?" he asked, making an unenthusiastic gesture in the direction of the couch.

The idea of refusing occurred to her. They couldn't keep tiptoeing around the elephant in the room forever. Yet once again, she was too irresolute to follow her instinct. She crossed the room and accepted the controller he was holding out for her.

"Do you want to choose the stage?"

She shook her head.

"I'll leave it up to you where you want to die," she said distractedly. "It makes no difference to me."

It was all part of their usual banter, but it was perfectly evident that their taunts were lacking their normal spunk.

They chose their characters and the fight began. She won the first round with ease, but Fiyero quickly managed to even out the score. After a short third round, he won the game. Somehow, he didn't seem very satisfied with his victory.

"You don't have to let me win, you know?"

"Believe me, I wasn't trying to," she replied through grinding teeth.

"Okay. Score for me then. Let's go again."

Glinda went on to lose every single one of the subsequent bouts. After his sixth win, Fiyero chucked the controller in the corner of the couch.

"This is obviously not working," he groaned in frustration.

Gently, Glinda set aside her own controller.

"No, I guess it's not," she agreed, quietly.

Her seemingly calm demeanour was not an accurate reflection of her inner turmoil. She cast Fiyero a brief glance, then looked away again. Feeling restless, she would have very much preferred to stand or even pace the room, yet she feared that doing so would merely serve to escalate her anxiety. As an alternative outlet, her hand resorted to excessively scratching the fabric of her shirt, which was a habit she was willing to tolerate for now. It was only through the sudden faint taste of blood in her mouth, that she realised that she'd also subconsciously been biting the inside of her cheek. Exhaling noisily, she threw herself back against the backrest, her hands flying up to cover her face.

The next thing she noticed was Fiyero's hand on her shoulder, his thumb caressing gingerly.

"You don't have to apologise," he finally said. "Just tell me what happened. If anything remains unclear to me, I'll let you know."

She slowly dragged her hands down her face, sat up and crossed them in front of her chest to keep them from fiddling. Thankful for his empathy, she nodded, though it took a while for her to bring herself to actually speak.

"You know what I was most worried about before coming here today?"

She paused to look at him and he calmly held her gaze. The kind expression in his eyes comforted her, but she soon realised that that was all he would offer for the time being. Listening intently, he seemed too eager for her to continue to venture any guesses, yet also too considerate to urge her on. So she continued, speaking slowly and willing herself to keep up her eye contact as consistently as she could manage.