~~~
I'm all that I need
~~~
Adam had a simple theory – the present is an objective state of mind. If you asked him about it, he would typically smile and shrug off the question.
If you were persistent enough, however, he would tell you that the world we live is a collection of infinite realities – yours, his, and everyone else's. At any given time, the present was the reflection of the reality we consciously chose to focus upon, and that your present wasn't the same as his.
The answer might confuse you, or delight you, but either way, Adam would say little else on the matter, and maintain an enigmatic silence.
...
"I'll never understand why you're so ambivalent about this."
"I'm not ambivalent Sarah, I'm torn."
"Ooh, dramatic, Mr McAllister."
"You know I hate it when you call me that."
Sarah smiled cheekily in return, placing her coffee cup on the table, and settled down beside him.
"So, what's the agenda?"
"What d'you mean?"
"Well, there must be agenda; what do you guys discuss in the meetings?"
"Tonnes of things that have nothing to do with art and little to do with architecture."
"That sounds like fun."
"You bet it is. Today's the conceptual development though – we are supposed to discuss the design goals and building requirements. So I'm guessing you won't fall asleep."
"That's a very bright outlook, Adam. Just how awful are these meetings?"
"Like you wouldn't believe", Adam said, sipping his coffee. The beverage tasted foreign in his mouth, and he missed the burn of bourbon in his throat, "Still, they'll have to show us the permits today, or I'm sitting out with a picket sign until they pull it off."
"Like I said, ambivalent," Sarah replied, "pick a side already! Maybe this visual arts center will be a great thing, you know?"
He snorted and continued sipping his coffee. What he couldn't bring himself to admit to Sarah was that he wasn't quite sure why he didn't want to be associated with the project – despite the exposure it'd bring the UAI and improve conditions for teaching fine arts, something seemed to be holding him back from committing fully to the project and embrace it with open arms.
"So, um, is Amelia coming today."
He got his answer before he could even formulate the question.
"Yeah", he replied shortly. Words unspoken burned at the back of his tongue – he wanted to ask Sarah about the book she'd asked for – what had Amelia told her? What was so important about a children's book that Sarah had come seeking it out of his custody after a whole two years? And why did Sarah care? But he held his tongue, like he always did, and sipped his coffee.
"Oh, that's great", Sarah said airily. After a pause, she spoke again, "So, um, you don't have any plans this evening, do you?"
"Get to the point, Sarah."
"Well, fine," she replied grumpily, "it's just – I wanted to go out for drinks."
"Then why the preamble?" He asked her with a sardonic smile, waiting for her to spill the beans.
"Well, I was thinking of getting Amelia to come along."
Adam put down his cup and stood up, "I think it's time we left for Thompson and Lowell's."
"No, listen!" said Sarah, "Adam, please. This has got to stop. I know what's stopping you from engaging fully with the project – it's Amelia. Look me in the eye and tell me I'm wrong. Just – just talk to her, okay?"
"And what do I say to her", he said, pulling on his jacket, trying to keep his voice even.
"Nothing of consequence," she said, "just make small talk, if you have to. Anything, really. I'm not asking you to be friends," she said, moving closer and placing an arm on his shoulder, and he supressed the urge to shrug it off, "but maybe if the two of you didn't treat each other like strangers all the time, it'd be much easier, you know? It's a great career opportunity for you too, you know. I don't want this thing – this history – between you two to sabotage that."
Adam turned to Sarah, and something within him melted at the sight of her earnest face.
Besides, how long could he possibly fight this war?
"Fine, just a couple drinks", he relented.
...
"Erm, hello."
Emily turned to find a small, skinny girl smiling at her with unmitigated awkwardness.
Emily noticed that the newcomer, like most others in the office of Thompson & Lowell, and like herself, wore big glasses, and unlike herself, was dressed in depressingly muted shades of grey. She also noticed that the girl continued to stare at her avidly, teetering at the edge of speech but not quite making it, and Emily decided to help her out.
"Hello", she replied politely.
"I, um, you're Ms Emily Gilbert, right?"
"Uh, yes, I'm Emily. May I help you, uh..."
"Lisa, Lisa Parker," the girl replied enthusiastically "I'm Ms. Barnett's intern. Well, I used to be –"
"Used to be? Did she fire you?"
Emily turned to find Armin Bluhm standing beside her, an incredulous expression on his face, and a twinkle in his eyes. She looked disbelievingly at him, while he shot her a quick smile and turned back to Lisa.
"No!" Lisa added hastily, clearly mortified, "She got promoted – she's not working with the interns anymore."
"Oh, I see. Was she a ruthless boss?" Said Armin, his grin growing wider.
"No, she was quite – quite nice, and she helped me with my orientation and..."
"Aw, Lisa, aren't you the sweetest?"
Lisa nodded nervously, utterly confused at this point, and turned towards Emily again, "Umm, Miss Barnett asked me to tell you that the catalogue has been scanned – you can take it back whenever you'd like."
"Oh, okay. Thank you Lisa – tell Amelia that I'll pick it up this evening on my way back."
Lisa hovered uncertainly, chewing her bottom lip. Emily caught the drift.
"Or you could hand them over right now." said Emily, and the visibly relieved Lisa handed her the heavy tomes, helping Emily place them carefully in her bag.
"So, um, thanks Lisa."
Lisa nodded swiftly, and throwing a frightened glance at Armin walked away in haste.
"That was uncalled for," exclaimed Emily, turning to face Armin, who raised his hands defensively.
"I was only making conversation!" He said lightly, a sly smile on his face.
Emily opened her mouth to retort – that it was unfair to be so hard on such a visibly nervous person, that there was no need to discuss Amelia with her erstwhile interns, that this was a corporate setting, for god's sake, but something about Armin's expression stopped her.
Days later, she'd say it was because she knew her actions were futile. At the moment however, she did for the disarming twinkle in his eyes, and did she really want to pick a fight anyway?
"Whatever", she said dismissively, and walked past him to enter the conference room. Armin followed her, a smile on his face.
...
His hands worked tirelessly, etching out minuscule scales on the ruled paper as the dark haired new-comer droned on.
Armin paused for a while, looking up and nodding to something the man had said – he'd introduced himself as Harry Conroy – and hummed in agreement, before turning back to his notebook. Keeping up appearances was important. He had no interest in this project, either way, but he knew it was an important opportunity for UAI, and somehow, Adam was invested in the project, so he found himself being pulled along for the meetings week after week, feigning interest for the sake for his friend.
He let himself believe it was penitence for the times he'd say or do something a little over the line – things seemed more bearable that way.
He continued sketching out the mermaid, his mind uncharacteristically turbulent. Several things bothered Armin Bluhm – it bothered him that Amelia was sitting right across him, pristine and unperturbed, her eyebrows arched almost arrogantly, as she chipped in with Harry Conroy's odious speech with short, crisp snippets of her own. It bothered him that Sarah had come along today, unabashedly enthusiastic and supportive of the project, absorbing every word and nodding along. It bothered him that Adam had been giving him the cold shoulder since the past few days, ever since Armin had called Amelia a bitch. It bothered him that his date hadn't replied to his texts from last night.
He frowned mildly – it wasn't like him to be bothered so much. He placed the pen down on the table and turned his attention to Harry, who was now spewing managerial jargon like synergy and deliverables, and wondered how on earth this man had been appointed head of the design committee.
He watched as Harry wrapped up his speech, "So, miss Gilbert, anything you'd like to add?"
Emily faltered for a split second, but before he could be convinced that it had really happened, she replied smoothly, "Nothing you haven't already said, Mr Conroy."
Harry smiled and turned to Mark Lowell, proprietor of the firm, who began speaking at length about their design concept.
After several minutes, Armin found his attention wavering again – Mark Lowell said things he could finally find pertinent to the matter at hand, but he'd never done well with lectures, and without much to add, he turned back to his doodle and started sketching again, and within seconds, he was swept away by his craft, the sort of abandon he liked the best.
It was some time before he noticed someone's gaze on him.
He looked up and found Emily looking at him with some intrigue from beside him, her eyes flitting between his face and his notebook, her eyebrows raised in surprise. It suddenly occurred to him that there was yet another thing bothering him – the singular whatever she'd flung his way before the meeting.
Doing what he did best, he shot her a winning smile and winked at her, and turned back to his work. There were some things that needn't bother him all that much.
...
Amelia breathed a sigh of relief as the meeting drew to a close. She took the opportunity to hang back and muttered some excuse to Harry who hung about inconveniently, telling him she needed to organize the paperwork before she called it a day, knowing fully well how much he hated the job. She watched him exit the room predictably, followed by Mark Lowell, her corpulent boss, who was still conversing with Sarah, Adam and Armin in tow.
She huffed irritably, wishing she could pluck out her hammering heart. She'd spent the entire meeting with her nerves strung, never daring to make eye contact with Sarah, who sat three seats away, focussing solely on Harry and his pointless speeches. If there was one thing Harry Conroy truly had a talent for, it was saying very little by saying a lot, but today Amelia could've kissed him for all the help and distraction it provided, saving her from having to say much except intermittent comments and updates, and somehow evading Sarah became easier that way.
She couldn't still believe she'd told Sarah about the book.
As incompetent as she was at the task, Amelia sincerely believed that the past must always be left behind. But somewhere in the heat of the moment she'd told Sarah to go look for a book she should've checked out two whole years ago. What had made sense then was an absolute trainwreck now, and Amelia had hardly slept in the last week thinking of what Sarah might've done with the newly received information.
It's happened, it's done, she told herself firmly, her heart hardly complying.
She watched as Emily got up and pushed in her chair, the last one to leave the room barring herself. Her professionalism kicking in, albeit belatedly, Amelia said abruptly, "Emily, wait – can I have a word?"
Looking puzzled, the blonde set down her bag and sat down again.
"Did you speak to Mr Campbell about the digitized site map?"
"I did," said Emily, "he said he'd have it delivered by the end of this week."
"I see, and did Lisa give you the catalogues?"
"Yeah, she did, right before the meeting," said Emily, pointing at her bag "I'll check them in tomorrow – Campbell's not too worried, he knows they're in good hands."
"Well, that's very helpful", said Amelia, smiling a tight-lipped smile, shuffling papers together.
"Amelia, are you alright?"
"What? Yes – yes I'm fine. Absolutely fine – why'd you ask?"
"You look a little stressed out."
"It's nothing," Amelia said, her smile a little more sincere this time, "it's just the work – we've been working hard over the concept drawings the past week, and now the fatigue's catching up with me."
"Nothing else, right?"
"Nope, nothing dearest."
"Okay." said Emily, and Amelia appreciated the restraint. It was times like these when she could really appreciate how much Emily put up with her mood swings.
"So, well, let's go then?" She asked, a few minutes later, having finished her work.
"Yeah, sure."
The two exited the conference room, Amelia deep in thought about whether she should tell Trevor about the book yet or not, and how he'd react if she did. Before she could think much more about it, she spotted Sarah, Armin and Adam exiting Lowell's office across the hallway.
If only she hadn't hung back for five minutes.
Resigned to her fate, she walked beside Emily towards the elevator in the middle of the floor, preparing herself for the inevitable. She watched the three approach the elevator, reaching there a few seconds prior, and she relented that making a dash for the staircase would be a tad too dramatic at this point.
She zoned out the chatter around her – Armin and Sarah stepped forward and started chatting with Emily as they waited for the elevator – and counted the seconds until she could be home in blessed silence. On autopilot, she entered the elevator and stood in the back, tuning out the ensuing conversation.
It took her a few seconds to realize that Emily was calling out her name.
"I'm sorry, you were saying?" She said, and Emily repeated patiently, "We're all going to Callaghan's for a few drinks – come on."
If Amelia could've groaned, she would. Instead, she smiled and said, "Sure!"
...
Sarah Montgomery, once again, had proved that she was a genius.
She wasn't quite sure it'd work – in all honesty – as she'd stalled in the hallway outside the conference room, chatting with Mark Lowell and telling him that the shopping center sounded wonderful, and could she maybe see the model of the building? All the while, her attention had been turned towards the conference room, where Amelia sat talking with Emily Gilbert, the girl from the Met, and had silently prayed that the timing would work out. Having spent a solid five minutes talking about very little, the three had excused themselves and set out for the elevator, and Sarah had mentally congratulated herself when she'd seen Amelia and Emily walking out at the same time.
It was much easier from there – she'd noticed Armin and Emily speaking before and knew Adam had already accepted defeated. All that remained was Amelia's consent – if the brunette did not say yes to coming out for drinks she'd have no hope for reconciliation. And clarification.
Her heart plunged as she thought about it – ever since she'd collected Amelia's book from Adam, all that had run through her mind all week were the words Amelia had scribbled on the last page. To say that she was shocked was an understatement – she could hardly believe half of it, and when it had finally sunk in, she'd struggled with wanting to rush to Amelia immediately and either slap or hug the girl. But somehow she'd stayed put, deciding instead to just have a word with her after the meeting, and so far it had worked fabulously well.
By some miracle, Emily had consented enthusiastically to getting drinks, and Amelia had agreed as well, and now they sat in a bar around a round table, Emily and Armin chatting animatedly, Amelia and Adam sitting beside each other (that, she hadn't planned) striving to make polite conversation. Well, to be completely fair, Amelia was ignoring her, but she'd work on that later. For now, she was happy at having reconciled at least some parts of her old life.
If only Abigail was here too.
Pushing thoughts of her little sister out of her mind, she decided to tackle the matter a hand first. Avoiding Adam's curious gaze, she leaned towards Amelia, and said, "Amelia, can I talk to you for a second?" Nodding, Amelia got up from the table and the two made their way to the ladies' room.
...
This evening was not going as he'd planned.
Adam had little expectations from life – he was an easy-to-please sort of man, the sort of man who woke up to see the sunrise and worked in the evenings and taught little kids how to paint. Such intangible moments brought him the sort of satisfaction that he couldn't compare with anything else.
Once upon a time, he shared these sentiments with another girl. Now this girl sat beside him, barely saying a word, her thick curtain of hair swept over one shoulder, screening her face from his gaze. To an innocent bystander, it was an innocuous gesture, but he knew better – he always knew better.
He sipped his scotch, glancing at Sarah, who sat on the other side of Amelia, equally ignored by the brunette. Armin sat on his other side, deep in conversation with Emily. He sipped his scotch again, already regretting promising Sarah that he'd make an effort.
He cleared his throat meaningfully, and felt rather than saw Amelia shift slightly beside him. After a while, she swept her hair back in a deliberate fashion, and looked at him.
"So, um, congratulations on the exhibition."
"What? Oh yeah, that," he said, "Thanks."
"Quite a milestone, that one, wasn't it?"
"I suppose," he said, "it was a joint effort, you know? A UAI collective exhibition."
"Still," she said politely, "your work was very well featured."
"What was your favourite piece?" he asked before he could stop himself.
"I'm tempted to choose the scroll with the poem on it," she said, and for a second he thought he saw the old twinkle in her eyes, but then the second passed, "but I liked the sculptures best – the on entitled piety, I believe,"
"Observant as always, I see."
She opened her mouth to say something, then closed it again, settling instead for a polite smile. A while later, he attempted to match the favour.
"So, project manager, huh? That's really impressive."
"Yes, I suppose", she said demurely, a smile tugging at the corner of her lips, and he pressed on
"What was it, the youngest at the firm?"
"Not like they keep a record for that sort of thing", she said almost playfully, and inclined her head. He nodded and sipped his drink, his heart aching at the sheer proximity.
Some wounds ran too deep to heal with mere time.
The two continued making small talk for a few minutes more, before Sarah leaned in towards Amelia and whispered something in her ear. On cue, Amelia nodded and set down her drink, muttering an excuse him for his benefit before following Emily.
He sat back, relived. Some scabs weren't worth picking at.
...
"You did what?"
"I tripped him – I know it sounds like a really mean thing to do to a cop, but it was that or jail time, and my dad wouldn't have bailed me out. So I did what I could think of, and threw paint on the sidewalk. The cop chasing me stepped in the puddle and slipped; I got away safely, as you can tell."
"That's...that's brilliant."
"Why, thank you."
Emily chuckled at his bemused expression, and spoke, "so did you finally stop tagging the streets at night?"
"What, no, of course not! I'd never stop doing that – the streets of Detroit would be so dull without the street art, it was my duty to society to keep at it."
"Right," she said, a sly smile on her lips, "quite the dark knight you were, weren't you."
Armin smiled and tilted his head, "Well, I try."
Emily smiled and sipped his drink, watching Amelia and Emily leave the table. Her mind was finally at ease – an hour ago, when she'd asked Amelia to join them for drinks, guilt had plagued her at how selfish the request was – she knew just as well how terribly Amelia was handling her proximity to her ex, and now that the whole gang was here, she needed her space more than ever. But surprisingly Amelia said yes, looking a little too resigned to her fate, and had followed them to the bar without contest.
She did, however spot him speaking with Adam, so she could safely assume that all was well.
Emily turned her attention back to Armin, amazed at how easy it was to talk to him. It was perhaps her best evening in weeks – her job at the Met meant only having Rosie and Clark for company, both of whom were several decades older than her, and going home to a fiancé who always worked late. Something about being out late and having drinks with almost strangers was exciting.
Excusing herself, she made her way to the bathroom, her hands fishing in her bag for her chapstick. She was about to push open the door, when the sound of two voices stopped her.
Amelia and Sarah were arguing inside the ladies' room.
She paused outside the door, her hand raised to knock, unable to make up her mind, desperate to evade the situation.
"All I'm saying is that you don't have to live like that!"
"I'm not living like anything, Sarah. Its fine, it's all in the past –"
"Amelia, it's not fine! You need to get help. If I had any idea –"
"If you had any idea?" Emily heard Amelia shout, "You'd have had an idea if you'd only bothered to come look for me. I'm sorry, okay, I screwed up and I broke up with Adam but don't you stand there and tell me that it was all my fault, Sarah."
"You left a note in a damn book, Mia. Why couldn't you just come find me and tell me?"
The voices died down, and Emily heard murmuring that she couldn't decipher. She hovered outside the door, rooted to the spot, unable to decide what course of action to take. Increasingly uncomfortable, she turned right around and headed back to her table.
Maybe it hadn't been a good idea to say yes to drinks after all.
...
He took a swig from his beer as he watched her head back from the back of the bar, and smiled as she sat down beside him.
Armin wasn't one to pry, but she Emily looked... bothered.
He attempted to engage her in conversation again, telling more tales about his adventures in Detroit, but he could tell her mind was preoccupied. After a few failed attempts, he decided to be upfront about it.
"You look like you've something on your mind", he said quietly, and she seemed to break out of her reverie.
"What? No, nothing really", she replied quickly, and glanced over her shoulder uneasily.
"Are you sure?" he asked gently.
"Well, yeah. I mean..." She said, her brows furrowed, "I did have something to ask you."
"Go ahead?"
"Why'd you ask Lisa if Amelia was a ruthless boss?"
He sighed, taking another swig of his beer before deciding to be completely honest with her.
"Can you keep a secret?"
He pressed on before she could answer, "I guess I said what I said to Lisa because – because I wanted to see Amelia be the bad guy. Maybe a terrible boss, or an incompetent one, anything, really, that would further justify my dislike for her."
"Why'd you wanna do that?" Emily half whispered.
He ignored her question and looked past her towards Amelia and Sarah, who had since returned and now sat quietly at the table, avoiding each other's eyes. Amelia sipped on her iced tea consciously, her gaze passing over Adam's hands as they rested on the table, and there was something in Adam's posture, something uncharacteristically restrained and rigid, that Armin had not noticed before. He could tell that Adam's patience had run out, but not before considerable progress.
"With how things have been changing," Armin said lightly, "looks like I'll be the only one who'll even remember what ever came to pass in the past."
"Why do you want Amelia to be the bad guy?" Emily asked, thoroughly entranced by this strange man.
"I'm not the only one who's been spilling out my secrets around you, am I?" he replied cryptically
Emily said nothing, her heart pounding in her chest as his light blue eyes stared into hers.
~~~
Author's Note – Ugh, another delayed chapter. This was excruciatingly difficult to write – my imagination seems to have run dry and I'm finding it exceedingly difficult to write these days. I rewrote this chapter four times in two weeks and I still hate it, but it's here anyway.
Please review – I'd love to hear from you.
D͍49ߣ|%p