Beck's eyebrows shot up in surprise. He didn't say anything, his blue eyes still locked on her. Elliot rushed to the fill the silence she could feel descending.
"I know it's kind of last minute and all, and a plane flight would be expensive but I could pay for that. I...just...I don't know...thought I would ask."
Beck's mouth quirked into an amused grin.
"You sure this isn't just something that you're blurting out because I have one of those faces?" he asked.
"No, I want you to come. It would be quite an experience meeting the other half of the family. Honestly, you would get enough material on crazy family dynamics to last you a life time." She shifted, gripping the strap of her purse. "So what do you say you want to be my plus one to my sister's wedding?"
At the second request, Beck's face fell and he took a step back, glancing at the ground. Elliot felt her stomach plummet. Beck looked back at her, rubbing the back of his neck.
"El, I don't think that is such a good idea," he said.
She nodded and retreated a step as well. An ache she hadn't expected filled her chest.
"Because you don't know if you can handle the craziness of my family? I get that," she said, giving him a forced smile.
"No, I just think that for the rest of the book we should keep things professional."
Elliot stared at him with a puzzled, mocking expression.
"Professional," she said.
He nodded.
"Yeah, cause we've kept this so professional before," she said. "Thanks for all the free therapy by the way. Oh, and my mom wants you over for dinner when we get back."
Beck gave a wry chuckle and rubbed his neck again, looking at the ground.
"I know we haven't kept it strictly professional," he said. He met her gaze. "I just think between us...our relationship...we should keep things professional."
Elliot took another step back and slid her hands into her pockets. She nodded in understanding, but felt lost.
"Yeah," she said. "I totally get that. Makes sense. Umm...well if you change your mind I already told Michelle I was bringing a plus one. That way I would have a second meal to eat if the chicken turned out too dry."
Beck gave her a funny look.
"What did you plan to do when people asked where he was?"
Elliot made a face. "Umm...bathroom with really bad diarrhea?"
Beck started laughing, but that only seemed to make the hurt in Elliot's chest grow. He looked at her, a wide grin on his face. A look she wasn't able to return.
"Do you ever say anything normal?" he asked.
"Once," she said. "I think it was a Monday. Not a great day."
"I can only imagine."
Elliot nodded and in the quiet an uncertainty draped over them. Beck pointed to the door, the grin slipping away.
"You want to go to the cafe?" he asked.
She backed away from the door and pointed over her shoulder.
"Actually, I remembered I wanted to add something to my latest chapter before I forget it."
Beck nodded and moved into the open door way.
"Okay, well I'll see you tomorrow, then," he said.
He went to leave but turned back at Elliot's voice.
"Actually, no," she said. "I'll be packing and getting everything in order. So I probably won't see you. Keep using the office while I'm gone though."
"Will do. I hope it goes well," he said.
Elliot didn't reply, her throat momentarily tight. She nodded and Beck reached for the door knob.
"See you later, El," he said.
She turned away and walked over to the desk and her computer. Beck watched her for a second, before pulling the door closed behind him. When Elliot heard the click of the latch, she turned back around, her face falling. For a moment she stayed absolutely still listening to his retreating footsteps.
With a sigh, she moved to the couch and fell back onto it. She stared up at the ceiling and trying to find the moment where she had gone wrong. The light continued to fade from the sky as she replayed the scene over and over again, the ache on her chest never dying away.
When the windows were completely black and mirrors to the office, she pulled out her phone. It rang twice before Cece answered.
"What's up loser?" she said.
"I'm on a ledge," Elliot said.
"A metaphorical one or physical?"
"Which one will get you here?"
The was a long pause, while Cece thought.
"Neither," she said. "I don't like you that much."
"I asked Beck to come to the wedding." Elliot could almost sense Cece going still. "He said no."
"I'm on my way!"
Elliot frowned.
"My suicide won't get you here but that will?"
"Yeah, I want to see what pain and misery look like."
"Just look at your boyfriend then."
Cece didn't respond as the line went dead. Elliot dropped her hand, returning to her contemplation of the ceiling. The clock was the only sound in the room, the rain taking a break. Footsteps pounded on the stairway, sounding like a stampede of elephants. The door crashed open and Cece raced in. At the sight of Elliot laying on the couch she hurried to her side and dropped to her knees. She dramatically laid her forehead down the on edge of the cushions.
"Oh, by the gods I'm too late!" she said. "She's already taken her life. The grief of rejection was too terrible to bare."
"That was the only way you saw entering the office?" Elliot asked. "Simply walking in was too much?"
Cece raised her head and looked off as if she were really considering what Elliot said.
"You know, I never actually thought about that? But honestly it's not like we have ever dealt with this kind of situation before. We hardly ever get the second date, let alone having to deal with rejection on this scale. I'm out of my league."
"I don't get the second date. You reject the first. But yeah, I get what you are saying, we are in uncharted territory."
"Exactly, so what do we do with uncharted territory?"
"Get our ship caught in a storm and die terrible deaths in the ocean?"
"Precisely, we pull from stories. I was pulling my reaction from Agatha Guilford's serious novel, Death by Rejection."
"That sounds like an awful novel."
"It was but it was one of the best comedy books I've ever read." Cece pushed herself up and stretched out a hand to Elliot. "Come on, we aren't talking here."
"Why?"
Cece gestured around the room with her finger.
"The walls have ears."
"I thought they were amusing pictures of ears."
"Besides making a mess of your love life, you also have terrible decorating taste. I can't remedy one but I'll try for the other."
"I'm keeping the pictures."
Cece tossed her hands up. "Fine, then your love life it is. Though honestly removing picture frames is so much easier and satisfying. With them you see the results. With you we will never be able to tell."
"I'm regretting calling you," Elliot said.
"Good, hold on to that feeling and when you feel like calling me next time, remember it. Now come on."
With a groan, Elliot got off the couch. Cece flicked off the lights and they left the office. The air was damp outside and gray clouds still lined the sky. Car headlights reflected off the slicked streets. Their tires made swooshing sounds as they drove through puddles and sent sprays of murky water into the air. Remnants of the storm remained as they walked through the Common and tree branches dropped left over rain on them. The smell of grass and soaked pavement lingered over the city.
Cece unlocked the front door and pushed it open. The kitchen lights were on, a welcoming sight in the dim entryway. After discarding their shoes and purses they moved towards the warmth. Cece made straight for the freezer and pulled out a carton of ice cream. She turned back to Elliot, the carton raised.
"Kitchen or your room?" she asked. "From what I've read most girls do this sitting on a bed." She shrugged as if baffled by normal people. "I don't care either way."
"My room seems more comfortable," Elliot said, grabbing two spoons. "Beside the bed is probably more absorbent than wood."
"Oh, are you going to cry, because that's one other thing we haven't dealt with either. Gosh why isn't there a manual for this or something?" She moved to the hallway, Elliot beside her. "Maybe this is why we never did the whole dating thing, we would have no idea what to do with break ups." She waved around the ice cream. "You know, besides the whole write a complete novel based on the experience, but that just takes so much work."
"And ice cream is faster."
"Very true. So that's why girls eat when they have break ups. It all makes sense."
They stepped into Elliot's room and settled onto the bed, their legs crossed and the carton between them. They ate in silence, Elliot trying to ignore the feeling in her chest that had yet to leave her.
"You ever wonder why we are emotional challenged?" she asked.
Cece shrugged. "I blame society."
"Why society?"
"I don't know, it's easier than going to look for the real reason."
"Fine, if you blame society, I blame the film industry."
"Good one. I blame global warming."
"I blame the the government."
"I blame the Real Estate companies."
"I blame the stock market."
"Well, who doesn't?"
They fell silent. The house seemed to take their quiet in stride and remained silent with them. The only sound came from the street and the distance noise of cars passing by.
"You want to talk about it?" Cece asked.
Elliot shrugged and dug her spoon into the soft ice cream.
"What's there to talk about? I asked him and he said no. In probably a few days, based on how fast he's been writing, his part of the book will be done and that will be that. No need to talk about it," she said, her gaze focusing on the far window.
Cece studied her, trying to find something to say, but came up short. The front door opened and closed. They heard someone climb the stairs. Tristan appeared in the doorway. He looked from Elliot's glazed look to Cece's lost scowl to the ice cream carton.
"What's going on?" he asked, stepping onto the room.
"We're talking about the debacle that is El's love life," Cece said.
"She has no love life."
"And that is where the debacle lies."
"I asked Beck to the wedding," Elliot said.
Tristan slid his hands into his pockets and nodded, taking in the news.
"And I'm guessing from the fact that you look like you want to drown yourself in ice cream that he said yes and you are now coming to the realization that he will be meeting the other half of the family."
"How did you say that all in like one breath?" Cece asked, looking at him impressed.
Tristan didn't look at her.
"He said no," Elliot responded.
"Bullet dodged then," he said.
"Yup, bullet dodged for sure," she said, scooping out more ice cream.
Tristan held out a hand to Cece. She scowled and took out a five dollar bill, handing it to him.
"Really?" Elliot said. "Now is not the time."
"And uncle Philip's funeral was?" Cece asked.
"I nailed his time of death perfectly." They both gave her flat stares. "Okay, it wasn't the right time, but I was only six."
Cece rolled her eyes. "Excuses, excuses. Now, speaking of funerals, I have a question." She pointed her spoon at Tristan. "How come you don't have to go out to California days before the wedding like us?"
Tristan held up his hand, one finger raised. "One, I'm better than you." He raised another finger. "Two, I'm not in the bridal party. Three, I'd rather stick needles in my eyes. Four, I'm better than you and therefore don't have to deal with the crazy you do."
"Wow, that was actually all really well put. Makes sense now," Cece said.
They heard the front door open and Milo call out.
"We're up here!" Cece shouted.
They waited for the footsteps but they didn't come.
"Are you armed?" Milo yelled.
"Only with a spoon, her wit, and sarcasm so the decision is up to you," Tristan said.
Milo climbed the stairs and walked into the room.
"What made you decide to take the chance?" Tristan asked.
"I've borne her sarcasm and wit before," Milo said. "And if she has a spoon that means there is ice cream which means she's in the best mood she could possibly be in."
Tristan laid a hand on Milo's shoulder. "I'm not sure if I should be impressed or grieving over the fact that you are most likely stuck with her for the rest of your life."
"Don't worry," Milo said, "if she makes good on her promise of starting the zombie apocalypse next year then I really don't have to bare it much longer."
Tristan nodded and pointed a finger at him. "It's good you're staying positive. I hear it helps kept the insanity at bay for a time." He released Milo and turned to Elliot. "El, there are other fish in the sea. They are easier to catch and they can conveniently live in a small tank. Though they don't smell as great, you can always sell it to a restaurant and go fish for another one. Now I leave you."
He left the room and walked down the hallway, closing his door on the house and the world. Milo looked at Elliot, frowning.
"What was he talking about?" he asked.
Cece groaned and stood. "I hate reruns. I'm going to go find something for us to eat besides ice cream."
"I asked Beck to the wedding and he said no," Elliot said.
"And we are really upset about it and what not," Cece said, leaving the room.
Her footsteps sounded on the stairs then faded into the kitchen. Milo took Cece's vacated seat, his eyes intently on Elliot.
"How are you doing?" he asked, his voice low.
Elliot shrugged then stared down at the carton of ice cream. She stabbed her spoon into it a few times, not really aware of what she was doing. She looked up at Milo.
"I didn't think it would hurt when he said no," she said.
"Did you tell Cece that?"
"No, I was going to but I realized the only one more emotional constipated than me is Cece. I think she was surprised I even asked him and that he said no. She doesn't know what to do or say to me. Heck! Like we have ever dealt with stuff like this."
Elliot collapsed back on her pillows, her arms crossed over her chest, as if they could help shield her against the continuous aching.
"Is it normal for my chest to feel like it's caving in on itself?" she asked. "Or am I just having a heart attack?"
"It's called a cracked heart, El."
"Really? I was hoping for the cardiac arrest option. That way I wouldn't have to face him again." Elliot covered her face with her hands. "Have I made the biggest idiot of myself? What was I even thinking?"
Milo leaned forward over his knees, looking at her.
"What were you thinking?" he asked, the question curious instead of judgmental.
Elliot pulled her hands away and studied her palms.
"I don't know. I thought it would all go better with him there. I just wanted him to be there. With me. You know, since Cece would have you and Tristan would have his aura of talk-to-me-and-I'll-break-your-face."
"I always thought it was more of a your-opinion-means-less-than-nothing-to-me type of aura."
Elliot didn't respond. She dropped her hands and looked back up at her ceiling.
"You didn't make an idiot of yourself, El," Milo said.
"Really, because I feel pretty stupid right now. And that means it's more than normal." She sat up, and stared at Milo. "I don't even know what I misread. We had a great day and I thought he..." She buried her head in her hands. "I don't know what I thought. Obviously, it was wrong."
"El, I don't think you read anything wrong."
Elliot shifted her head to one hand and looked at him.
"Then why did he say no?"
Milo shrugged. "Because he is the dumbest person on the planet."
"If only we both knew that wasn't true."
Elliot dropped her gaze and picked at her blanket, trying to ignore the ache that still enveloped her chest.
"You really like him," Milo said.
"No, I asked him to travel across the country to go to my sister's wedding with me for giggles."
Milo smiled. "Must be a lot if that is your answer."
Elliot looked up at him and smiled, a quiet smile that spoke volumes of her feelings towards Beck. Slowly the smile fell away and she rubbed her face.
"What do I do now? Besides rush to the ER to get this fatal attack checked out, because I'm still hoping it's that."
"You move on. You face him and act like everything is fine and normal and one day you will realize it is."
"Or," she said, pointed at him. "I could die of a heart attack and never have to see him again."
"There is always that option as well." He stood and nodded towards the door. "Come on, if Cece is cooking then you might just get your wish of a sudden death, though it might not be of the cardiac arrest variety."
"Anything that will make this pain go away, I will take," she said, standing and following him to the door. "Even if it is Cece's cooking."
**********************************************************************
Washing machine! (Now you're really starting to question my sanity. That makes three of us.)
Well, this has taken an ugly turn for the worst. Raise your hands if you hate Beck right now. Wow! Two hands and a leg, I appreciate your dedication. Let's ban together and make a I-Hate-Beck League! I'm totally down for this. What is that fool thinking?! Get your head in the game! (Well, now High School Musical is in my head, not for the first time and probably not the last.)
Tell me what you think would be the best way to jump off a cliff? (I say with a parachute, but I've been called crazy before)
Vote, comment, follow! (League meetings with be on Tuesdays. Who wants to bring dessert?)
(Does anyone else think that had to be my strangest author's note? I for one totally think so)