CHAPTER FIVE
NIMBUS
( — a luminous cloud or a halo surrounding a supernatural being or a saint. / a light, color, etc., that surrounds someone or something. )
☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ:⠀ *⋆.*:･ﾟ .: ⋆*･ﾟ: .⋆
MICHAELA TATE IS FURIOUS. Yvonne Tate blabbers about her job and how she's preparing for New York Fashion Week, as it's less than a month away. Ulysses Tate excuses himself from the lunch table to answer the phone for the eighth time in less than an hour. Lincoln Calloway pushes a pea around his plate with a silver fork, wondering how in the world he got caught in the monthly Tate family lunch.
Michaela knows how.
It all began yesterday, on Friday morning, when he called her for the first time in two years, asking her whether the interview could take place at her apartment instead, as his living room had a painting job scheduled for the following day. She hesitated, as it's not her story, but Ginny shrugged it off and returned to her Candy Crush game, so she had nothing else to say.
Except she had conveniently forgotten about lunch with her parents, so Lincoln had no choice but to stay with them as well, as she hadn't even managed to ask him more than one question when they barged into her apartment. Michaela dared to think it wouldn't be as terrible as she had thought, but, when Lincoln and Ulysses locked eyes with each other, she knew this lunch was a recipe for disaster.
It's not that her parents don't like Lincoln. They do, and were always supportive of their relationship, considering him part of the family . . . at least until Michaela and Lincoln broke up and called off the engagement. Michaela tried to remind her parents, especially Ulysses, that she could perfectly take care of herself and didn't need them to get involved, but her father still resents him for having broken her heart. She wasn't surprised to see him glare at poor Lincoln whenever he wasn't on the phone.
"Lincoln, dear, tell me," Yvonne continues, wiping her mouth with her napkin, and Michaela tightens the hold around her fork, wishing her mother had kept pursuing the New York Fashion Week subject instead. "You were gone for a long time. A year, wasn't it?"
Lincoln stops pretending to like peas, which he never has, and looks up. "Yes, but I still kept mostly to myself for another year." Michaela sips her wine and Yvonne shoots her a brief warning look, staring at the ghost of her daughter's engagement ring. "I wasn't ready to come back right after my break, at least not entirely, so I didn't . . . you know. I thought it was the best thing to do at the time."
"Hmm." Yvonne folds her hands over her lap. "I wish you had said something, though. Having to hear it all through Michaela certainly didn't help with seeing you and your decisions in a positive light, but I'm sure you understand why we took her side."
"Yes, of course."
"And not just because she's our daughter—"
"I'm also sitting right here," Michaela mutters, through gritted teeth, and checks her phone, courtesy of the conversation she's been having for the past thirty minutes to keep her mind fresh enough to avoid snapping at someone. Roya Mokri is Ginny's roommate and one of the few people Michaela is genuinely scared of, as Roya can be so emotionally empty she makes Yvonne and Ulysses from Michaela's teenage years look happy.
There are also times Roya is as cuddly as a teddy bear, which might explain why Ginny still hasn't kicked her out of her apartment, why Kelsey Blue—the token bundle of joy at Union Daily—enjoys her company so much and why Michaela can be around her for more than fifteen minutes. The girls enjoy hanging out as often as possible, even when Michaela is absent—which seems to happen quite often—and it's occasionally one of the best things about Michaela's Friday nights.
Michaela decides to be brave and changes the subject of her conversation with Roya. Instead of focusing on Ginny falling asleep after one in the afternoon, she tries to get some more information regarding UD's cuts, too nervous to think about anything else. After what feels like an eternity, Roya casually drops the bomb on how UD is making cuts just so they can hire rival writers.
"I'm so sorry," Ulysses apologizes, sliding back to his seat. "I can't believe they won't even leave me alone during the weekend."
Yvonne scowls. "Your food is cold."
Ulysses grins. "I'm sure Mich has a microwave."
"As long as your lunch doesn't explode in there and spreads turkey all over my kitchen, feel free to use it," Michaela says, leaning back on her chair, and crosses her arms in front of her chest. Her muscles ache. "Maybe you should try turning off your phone every once in a while. That thing's toxic."
"Maybe you should try turning off your phone every once in a while," he mimics, in a high-pitched voice, which could leave Michaela almost hysterical while laughing if she wasn't in such a terrible mood, as the man is absurdly tall, but she merely cracks a small smile. "I'm always working, Michie, but I won't deny it's toxic." He stands up once more, picking up his plate and shooting Lincoln a fleeting deadly glare. "Some of us actually take responsibility for our actions."
"Dad," she whines, at the same time as Yvonne utters,
"Ulysses"—echoing that dinner scene from Shrek 2 with Fiona's parents, Shrek, Fiona herself and Donkey.
There's not a Donkey, unfortunately, but Michaela wishes there was some sort of comic relief at this table.
Still, Michaela can't help but give Lincoln some credit, taking every blow Ulysses decides to hit him with without even flinching, but she fears things might be going a little bit too far. Ulysses has erased every good moment the two of them have ever had from his mind and, while she knows he's trying to look out for her, he's doing it the wrong way—if even Michaela can be in the same room as Lincoln without lashing out at him, why can't her own father? He wasn't the one who got his heart broken two years ago.
He can argue back because it's what lawyers do, saying he broke his own heart by seeing her as destroyed as she was, but, at the end of the day, it was her heart, her relationship, and her engagement. They should have moved on like she did instead of resenting the man for wanting to take a break. Yvonne, out of all people, should know how draining fame can be, but she, too, decided to take an anti-Lincoln stance and be insanely hypocritical.
She only really breathes when they leave—and Yvonne makes sure to hand her a bunch of VIP passes for Fashion Week, as it's been years since Michaela has missed one—and spreads air freshener around the kitchen to get rid of the strong smell of turkey and gravy. Lincoln watches her in silence, and she knows he's the one resenting her for having forgotten about her parents' visit, but she can't bring herself to open her mouth.
She feels ridiculous, staring at a minuscule piece of turkey breast that wasn't flushed down the drain of the kitchen sink and instead lies there, soaking wet, and that's the last straw. A tiny sob escapes from her lips as she bends over the sink, with the damn turkey taunting her because she can't bring herself to grab a fork, pick it up, and throw it out, and because she's downright exhausted.
She knows who Union Daily wants to steal and from whom. They've been trying to do it for years, at least ever since Michaela's internship there, and Blair knows about her history, meaning she rarely ever misses an opportunity to drop hints about the magazine's plans. Michaela tries to let those hints slide, forcing herself to smile and nod, but she also knows not everyone is out to get her or wants to mess with her head.
Her chest tightens as she does it, but she forces herself to straighten her back, grab two paper napkins, and throw out the food remains, exhaling through her mouth. It makes her sick to her stomach, giving such petty things—like her parents' opinions—the opportunity to get to her head like this, and she barely manages to drag herself back to the living.
With a tiny sigh, she leans her back against the wall, under the doorway between the kitchen and the living room. Lincoln carefully approaches her, paying close attention to any possible changes in her facial expression or her posture, before sliding down the wall until their eyes are at the same level, standing face to face.
"Mickey," Lincoln begins, hands hidden inside his pockets. "Look, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to make things awkward between you and your parents. I should have taken control of the situation, but your father still scares me a little bit."
"I'm sure it has nothing to do with his sparkling personality," she retorts, rolling down her cardigan's sleeves. "Sorry for making you stay. I know they're overreacting, and I've told them they have to stop countless times, but it's not like they ever listen to what I have to say."
His trembling fingers tuck a strand of her hair behind her ear, and she fears she might collapse. "I'm sorry."
She knows he's not just apologizing for what happened today, but everything else can't be forgiven with just a simple apology; while it's heartfelt—and she knows him well enough to know it is, as the man doesn't have a single evil bone in his body—and she appreciates that he has the courage to do it, much unlike her, her pride speaks louder.
She knows he's sorry. She's sorry too.
However, it doesn't change things.
☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ:⠀ *⋆.*:･ﾟ .: ⋆*･ﾟ: .⋆
"ROYA TOLD ME WHAT'S GOING ON," Ginny confesses, on Monday, legs stretched over her desk. If it wasn't obvious by everyone's relaxed behavior, Blair has called in sick and everyone allows themselves to breathe with relief, with Ginny deciding she wants to focus on Candy Crush and gossiping instead. "You know, about the cuts. I wish I knew how in the world she knows these things."
"She's a blogger," Michaela points out, glancing at her silent phone. Lincoln usually texts her just to check on her, after the fiasco that was lunch with her parents, but she's still waiting for him to reply. "It's her job to know the inside scoop."
"She has inside sources everywhere"—Ginny scowls, probably because she lost a game—"and I'm not one of them. Blair would destroy me if she knew I was spreading supposedly confidential information to my insanely famous blogger roommate." She briefly looks up. "Please tell me I don't turn into a talkative drunk. I mean, I'd ask her myself where she gets all the information, but Roya-Bot still scares me."
"Roya-Bot scares everyone." Michaela briefly pauses, playing with her necklace. "You know who they want to hire, don't you? People are already talking, and I swear Jonas was talking about it when I walked into the kitchen, which was why he changed subjects."
Ginny purses her lips together. "I was going to say Lois Lane thanks to all the hype around it, but, considering she's, unfortunately, a fictional character, my money is on Lennox Lane." Michaela shudders at the mention of Lennox's name. Though she, along with everyone and their mother, already knew he's the business' favorite chess piece, she still had a tiny bit of hope Union Daily wouldn't resort to such a low blow.
It also doesn't help that she and Lennox have known each other since high school and spent those four years constantly fueling their rivalry. It also doesn't help that she and Lennox were both interns at Union Daily at the same time and for the same amount of time, with him having decided to work as a guest editor and arguing he was too good to limit himself to just one magazine or newspaper.
It also doesn't help that he absolutely hates her guts.
Shortly after, Lincoln is still silent, but everyone in the building receives an email, inviting them (and a guest!) to a magazine party, where the new editors will be announced, even though they already know who they are. Michaela knows it's a nice opportunity to finally have some fun with her friends and she really doesn't want to invite Lincoln, knowing the type of rumors it would spark between her co-workers and reach the press, but, on the other hand, she's already dreading having to run into Lennox there, not to mention knowing they'll be working together.
She sighs and, hoping she won't regret it, she presses the I'm Going button on the Facebook event.