A caffeine celebration
Gideon looked at his watch; it had become something of a habit. His fingers were wrapped around the plastic cup filled with water, ice, and the complimentary lemon. He looked again and muttered something about not being nervous. There was no reason to be, right? The winter break was commencing, so it opened an excellent excuse to talk to Eliza over coffee.
Eliza shuffled down the street, hands deep in her coat pockets, and eyes focused on the empty spaces on the sidewalk. Her mind was rampant with all her exam questions, the line blurring between the ones she knew she got right, and the ones she wasn't so sure about anymore. Only time would tell. She looked up, reassessing her surroundings before stepping off the sidewalk and crossing the street. When Gideon had called around about grabbing some coffee, Eliza agreed, despite her nervous hesitation. It would be good to catch up, she told herself. Besides, there were a few things she was eager to say.
He had chosen the spot at the far end of the coffee shop, facing the entrance to not cause a chance that she might think he left already or something like that. It wasn’t that late, still early afternoon, and when the door opened, he didn’t smile. He just stood up and walked over, asking in a soft voice, “Want anything?” He meant the coffee - not answers. Those would have to wait for a little longer.
“Well hello to you too." She laughed and shrugged out of her coat, draping it over her arm. Her eyes flashed to the menu, already knowing what she was in the mood for. "Chai latte sounds great." She took the warm ceramic mug from the barista, and holding it carefully, followed him to a table in the back. She collapsed in her chair, pulling her legs beneath her. "I'm glad you called," she admitted, taking a tentative sip of her coffee.
Gideon laughed and lowered his head, shaking it slightly, “Sorry, you know that I’m horrible with greetings,” and talking in general. Conversing was kind of a forced art, and it didn’t help that there were about a thousand things on his mind. “I’m still a little surprised that I asked. I mean, Sunnydale? When I overheard California I was thinking Los Angeles or San Diego.”
"Yeah," she grimaced, setting her mug on the table. "You weren't the only one then. Sunnydale isn't exactly the picturesque west coast city I was envisioning either." She considered his face carefully, sorting through his collected expressions to gauge the best time for the many questions that ran quickly through her head. "So," she began, trying not to sound to eager, "why made you stop running when you got here?"
That question had been asked before, and the answer still the same. “I had to stop, and twenty-five hundred miles away seemed far enough and easy enough to not get caught. It never even crossed my mind until I heard that voice . . .” his voice trailed and was quickly covered up by a long sip of his water. He didn’t know exactly how much she knew, how much Katja babbled on and on. His sister was the social half, the free spirit able to do as she pleased, so it worried him a little to be sitting there, talking about this again. “So this was your first quarter?” he asked quickly.
Eliza narrowed her eyes at the change of subject, taking her coffee in hand. "Yeah, had my last final this morning." She sighed, recalling the doomed exam, and shifted in her chair. "It was pretty horrible, but I'm just relieved it all over." She paused, sipping her coffee, and brushed her bangs from her eyes. There were two directions she could take this conversation, and she considered the path of each before speaking. "Whose voice did you hear?" She kept her eyes on him, determined to keep him from going off topic again.
“Well, yours,” Gideon said with a sheepish smile “Seriously, it’s a random college town that doesn’t quite hit the expensive, privileged children types.” He tried to hold back the word snob. He took in a deep breath, “It wasn’t intentional if that’s what you’re trying to get at. I’m not here to find some easy path to keep in touch with Katja.”
“Oh," she murmured, the heat creeping into her freckled cheeks. "Yeah, well dad got the job here, and I wanted to stay close to him. Plus, it was mom who had the money, and I'd rather have nothing to do with her. I'm okay with small college town, it's almost nice to see how the other half lives." She took a sip of her coffee, eyes darting quickly around the coffee shop before narrowing on him again. "Wait, you think I'm an easy path to Katja?" She set down her coffee mug. "You do know I haven't talked to her since I moved here, right? Not out of choice, of course. I was just so upset with mom, I got away as quickly as I could-- never had the chance to leave forwarding information, and never got through to her when I tried to call."
Crap. “No, I don’t.” Crap, crap, crap. “I mean yea, I know that. The picture was kind of clear after she stopped checking the mailbox.” Wait, she called? His eyes moved away, looking over her shoulder as if seeing someone else he knew, paranoid as ever, but didn’t come back. The hand not squeezing the life out of his cup moved to rest on a notebook he had been fumbling with earlier. When his sight returned, he repeated softly, “I know, and it is . . . different.”
"Home is different?" she assumed, a thoughtful expression on her face. "I figured when I was shifted through eight different people and still couldn't manage to just leave her a message." She watched him pick at the notebook, debating whether or not to ask her next question. "What happened Al?" She hesitated, suddenly feeling intrusive. She quickly added, with an awkward laugh, "But feel free to change the subject, I hear the weather in Tahiti is great this time of year."
“She didn’t know about the phone calls.” The staff probably took care of that. Why, he didn’t have a clue. He lowered his head. It would come up at some point, so, “I just . . . I did not want to flip out and wind up in some hospital. Isaac was only hard on me, and Mom was starting to drink a lot because of it. If I left, maybe they would’ve had the chance of a normal life instead of taking care of the screw up.”
Eliza wanted to laugh at the last words, but his somber face caught the laugh mid throat. Instead, she cough awkwardly, trying to find air. "You're not a screw up, Al" she comforted, her hand reaching out and resting on his for a fraction of a second. She pulled away, shifted in her seat, and took another sip of her coffee, the liquid now cold. "Besides, if you're a screw up then we're all messed up. You and Katja were like, the least screwed up people I knew. And that's surprising, you know, given your family..." Her voice drifted and she locked her eyes outside the window, mortified she had uttered such things about another's family, when hers wasn't picture perfect to begin with.
“You left before I was expelled,” Gideon noted. “And if not then, there’s now.” He pressed his thumb and forefinger at the bridge of his nose. “But soon, she’ll graduate, this June with honors and that scholarship. Maybe I’ll drive out to Canada after all to send a message to get accepted here or something.” No, that wouldn’t work out either. Slowly, with another deep breath and a long drink, he said, “So, you and Zephyros . . . though I can see the resemblance. How are things?”
Eliza shrugged, shredding her napkin. "Its okay, it's weird have a thrid person in the house. Plus, he keeps weird hours. I mean, I know I stay up late, but at least I'm quiet. He just knocks around at two in the morning like its twelve in the afternoon." She grimaced, realizing she was ranting and knew it was only and aftershock of her stress. She looked up and smiled. "It's nice though, he keeps things... interesting. Plus, I think dad is relieved to see me interacting with someone my own age, even if it is my cousin."
"Yea, he's like that. It takes some getting used to, but at least it's not another snob bird or the dysfunctional emo jock scholar thing I seem to have turned out to be," he rolled his eyes, trying to lighten up a little. "I'm just a little worried." A pause, almost considerate, mostly because of what had happened, then, “Have you thought of the dorms? I haven’t even started to consider the whole process yet, but at least there’s less of a commute.”
“You sound like my father," she said with a laugh. "I think he would consider his life fulfilled if I moved on campus. It's either he secretly wants to turn the house into a bachelor pad, or he is concerned with my social life-- like he says, but to be honest, I'm leaning towards bachelor pad." She stuffed the pieces of napkin into her mug, watching the paper absorb the cold liquid. Crossing her arms, she looked back at him. "It isn't that I don't want to move on campus, it's simply that I don't know anyone, so I'd go in blind and then who knows who they'd stick me with-- and you know me, I don't get along with everyone."
“Well, there is me,” he offered. His voice was getting detached. “I know I’m not Katja, I’m missing the boobs, and even with them, I certainly don’t have my shit together and can’t just laugh it off like she did, but hey, it’s someone. Besides, it’s not like I have much else here either, so we’d both have that.” He was about to take another sip, but the water, even with the ice, had gone quicker than he wished from the fidgeting. He frowned. “ ‘Sides, apparently I’m quite good at getting along with people that can’t get along with anyone.”
Eliza considered his face carefully, positive there was something he wasn't saying, but completely unsure what exactly that was. "I feel like you and I always go on well, I mean, of course I spent more time with Katja, but I never felt like you were one of those people I couldn't deal with. Certainly there are worse people in this world." She pulled her legs underneath her, straightening in her chair. "I'm happy you're here, to be honest. Now I have two friends that I don't have to pretend around, and that is a relief."
Gideon nodded, “You probably can’t tell how much easier it is to talk without having to refer to some made up story. I’ve got a kid thinking that I went to Penn State with how nervous I was . . .” he smiled. “And well, if you’re interested in hopefully meeting at least some somewhat like minds, I’m trying to figure out a way to get a paycheck without needing to show the papers . . .” he had a thing for trailing, but hey, others might find out about what he was up to, and at least it was someone he knew first. "We could use a front, semi-friendly face." And there was the sarcasm and smirk.
Eliza's eyes widened, a smile pulling at the corner of her lips. "Are you doing something illegal? Do you need a fall guy? Because I know some kids in my classes who I wouldn't mind setting up." She was joking, of course, but couldn't help but get excited at the prospect. She contained her smile, and tried again for a composed face. "But in all seriousness, what are you up to?"
He laughed. "A band. I still have to talk to Zeph and find more people, but at least it was something besides the running that kept me from going crazy, and with that smile, you probably could get some good gigs." Katja would've loved it. The two of them joked constantly about running away and sitting at a street corner for change.
“So I could be like... your manager?" She hoped, terrified of the alternative. Sure, she was musical and yeah, she could sing. But a band? With gigs? And an audience? Her face blanched at the thought. "Yeah, that would be fun." Eliza smiled, hoping her believed her, because it was genuine interest. "How many more people do you think you need to find?"
"You're dad will probably faint from the idea," he smirked. "Well, with me, possibly Zeph, and my eccentric roommate, that's three, but lets do dinner, something official to celebrate the end of the first quarter, and we'll talk about it there."
Eliza nodded, realizing how great a dinner out of the house sounded. She was growing tired of her father's meatloaf surprise. "Dinner sounds great, you'll let me know the details?"
"Once I have details to give," he said - well, besides one of the more obvious ones. "I'll call when I have a place in mind tonight."
Eliza shuffled down the street, hands deep in her coat pockets, and eyes focused on the empty spaces on the sidewalk. Her mind was rampant with all her exam questions, the line blurring between the ones she knew she got right, and the ones she wasn't so sure about anymore. Only time would tell. She looked up, reassessing her surroundings before stepping off the sidewalk and crossing the street. When Gideon had called around about grabbing some coffee, Eliza agreed, despite her nervous hesitation. It would be good to catch up, she told herself. Besides, there were a few things she was eager to say.
He had chosen the spot at the far end of the coffee shop, facing the entrance to not cause a chance that she might think he left already or something like that. It wasn’t that late, still early afternoon, and when the door opened, he didn’t smile. He just stood up and walked over, asking in a soft voice, “Want anything?” He meant the coffee - not answers. Those would have to wait for a little longer.
“Well hello to you too." She laughed and shrugged out of her coat, draping it over her arm. Her eyes flashed to the menu, already knowing what she was in the mood for. "Chai latte sounds great." She took the warm ceramic mug from the barista, and holding it carefully, followed him to a table in the back. She collapsed in her chair, pulling her legs beneath her. "I'm glad you called," she admitted, taking a tentative sip of her coffee.
Gideon laughed and lowered his head, shaking it slightly, “Sorry, you know that I’m horrible with greetings,” and talking in general. Conversing was kind of a forced art, and it didn’t help that there were about a thousand things on his mind. “I’m still a little surprised that I asked. I mean, Sunnydale? When I overheard California I was thinking Los Angeles or San Diego.”
"Yeah," she grimaced, setting her mug on the table. "You weren't the only one then. Sunnydale isn't exactly the picturesque west coast city I was envisioning either." She considered his face carefully, sorting through his collected expressions to gauge the best time for the many questions that ran quickly through her head. "So," she began, trying not to sound to eager, "why made you stop running when you got here?"
That question had been asked before, and the answer still the same. “I had to stop, and twenty-five hundred miles away seemed far enough and easy enough to not get caught. It never even crossed my mind until I heard that voice . . .” his voice trailed and was quickly covered up by a long sip of his water. He didn’t know exactly how much she knew, how much Katja babbled on and on. His sister was the social half, the free spirit able to do as she pleased, so it worried him a little to be sitting there, talking about this again. “So this was your first quarter?” he asked quickly.
Eliza narrowed her eyes at the change of subject, taking her coffee in hand. "Yeah, had my last final this morning." She sighed, recalling the doomed exam, and shifted in her chair. "It was pretty horrible, but I'm just relieved it all over." She paused, sipping her coffee, and brushed her bangs from her eyes. There were two directions she could take this conversation, and she considered the path of each before speaking. "Whose voice did you hear?" She kept her eyes on him, determined to keep him from going off topic again.
“Well, yours,” Gideon said with a sheepish smile “Seriously, it’s a random college town that doesn’t quite hit the expensive, privileged children types.” He tried to hold back the word snob. He took in a deep breath, “It wasn’t intentional if that’s what you’re trying to get at. I’m not here to find some easy path to keep in touch with Katja.”
“Oh," she murmured, the heat creeping into her freckled cheeks. "Yeah, well dad got the job here, and I wanted to stay close to him. Plus, it was mom who had the money, and I'd rather have nothing to do with her. I'm okay with small college town, it's almost nice to see how the other half lives." She took a sip of her coffee, eyes darting quickly around the coffee shop before narrowing on him again. "Wait, you think I'm an easy path to Katja?" She set down her coffee mug. "You do know I haven't talked to her since I moved here, right? Not out of choice, of course. I was just so upset with mom, I got away as quickly as I could-- never had the chance to leave forwarding information, and never got through to her when I tried to call."
Crap. “No, I don’t.” Crap, crap, crap. “I mean yea, I know that. The picture was kind of clear after she stopped checking the mailbox.” Wait, she called? His eyes moved away, looking over her shoulder as if seeing someone else he knew, paranoid as ever, but didn’t come back. The hand not squeezing the life out of his cup moved to rest on a notebook he had been fumbling with earlier. When his sight returned, he repeated softly, “I know, and it is . . . different.”
"Home is different?" she assumed, a thoughtful expression on her face. "I figured when I was shifted through eight different people and still couldn't manage to just leave her a message." She watched him pick at the notebook, debating whether or not to ask her next question. "What happened Al?" She hesitated, suddenly feeling intrusive. She quickly added, with an awkward laugh, "But feel free to change the subject, I hear the weather in Tahiti is great this time of year."
“She didn’t know about the phone calls.” The staff probably took care of that. Why, he didn’t have a clue. He lowered his head. It would come up at some point, so, “I just . . . I did not want to flip out and wind up in some hospital. Isaac was only hard on me, and Mom was starting to drink a lot because of it. If I left, maybe they would’ve had the chance of a normal life instead of taking care of the screw up.”
Eliza wanted to laugh at the last words, but his somber face caught the laugh mid throat. Instead, she cough awkwardly, trying to find air. "You're not a screw up, Al" she comforted, her hand reaching out and resting on his for a fraction of a second. She pulled away, shifted in her seat, and took another sip of her coffee, the liquid now cold. "Besides, if you're a screw up then we're all messed up. You and Katja were like, the least screwed up people I knew. And that's surprising, you know, given your family..." Her voice drifted and she locked her eyes outside the window, mortified she had uttered such things about another's family, when hers wasn't picture perfect to begin with.
“You left before I was expelled,” Gideon noted. “And if not then, there’s now.” He pressed his thumb and forefinger at the bridge of his nose. “But soon, she’ll graduate, this June with honors and that scholarship. Maybe I’ll drive out to Canada after all to send a message to get accepted here or something.” No, that wouldn’t work out either. Slowly, with another deep breath and a long drink, he said, “So, you and Zephyros . . . though I can see the resemblance. How are things?”
Eliza shrugged, shredding her napkin. "Its okay, it's weird have a thrid person in the house. Plus, he keeps weird hours. I mean, I know I stay up late, but at least I'm quiet. He just knocks around at two in the morning like its twelve in the afternoon." She grimaced, realizing she was ranting and knew it was only and aftershock of her stress. She looked up and smiled. "It's nice though, he keeps things... interesting. Plus, I think dad is relieved to see me interacting with someone my own age, even if it is my cousin."
"Yea, he's like that. It takes some getting used to, but at least it's not another snob bird or the dysfunctional emo jock scholar thing I seem to have turned out to be," he rolled his eyes, trying to lighten up a little. "I'm just a little worried." A pause, almost considerate, mostly because of what had happened, then, “Have you thought of the dorms? I haven’t even started to consider the whole process yet, but at least there’s less of a commute.”
“You sound like my father," she said with a laugh. "I think he would consider his life fulfilled if I moved on campus. It's either he secretly wants to turn the house into a bachelor pad, or he is concerned with my social life-- like he says, but to be honest, I'm leaning towards bachelor pad." She stuffed the pieces of napkin into her mug, watching the paper absorb the cold liquid. Crossing her arms, she looked back at him. "It isn't that I don't want to move on campus, it's simply that I don't know anyone, so I'd go in blind and then who knows who they'd stick me with-- and you know me, I don't get along with everyone."
“Well, there is me,” he offered. His voice was getting detached. “I know I’m not Katja, I’m missing the boobs, and even with them, I certainly don’t have my shit together and can’t just laugh it off like she did, but hey, it’s someone. Besides, it’s not like I have much else here either, so we’d both have that.” He was about to take another sip, but the water, even with the ice, had gone quicker than he wished from the fidgeting. He frowned. “ ‘Sides, apparently I’m quite good at getting along with people that can’t get along with anyone.”
Eliza considered his face carefully, positive there was something he wasn't saying, but completely unsure what exactly that was. "I feel like you and I always go on well, I mean, of course I spent more time with Katja, but I never felt like you were one of those people I couldn't deal with. Certainly there are worse people in this world." She pulled her legs underneath her, straightening in her chair. "I'm happy you're here, to be honest. Now I have two friends that I don't have to pretend around, and that is a relief."
Gideon nodded, “You probably can’t tell how much easier it is to talk without having to refer to some made up story. I’ve got a kid thinking that I went to Penn State with how nervous I was . . .” he smiled. “And well, if you’re interested in hopefully meeting at least some somewhat like minds, I’m trying to figure out a way to get a paycheck without needing to show the papers . . .” he had a thing for trailing, but hey, others might find out about what he was up to, and at least it was someone he knew first. "We could use a front, semi-friendly face." And there was the sarcasm and smirk.
Eliza's eyes widened, a smile pulling at the corner of her lips. "Are you doing something illegal? Do you need a fall guy? Because I know some kids in my classes who I wouldn't mind setting up." She was joking, of course, but couldn't help but get excited at the prospect. She contained her smile, and tried again for a composed face. "But in all seriousness, what are you up to?"
He laughed. "A band. I still have to talk to Zeph and find more people, but at least it was something besides the running that kept me from going crazy, and with that smile, you probably could get some good gigs." Katja would've loved it. The two of them joked constantly about running away and sitting at a street corner for change.
“So I could be like... your manager?" She hoped, terrified of the alternative. Sure, she was musical and yeah, she could sing. But a band? With gigs? And an audience? Her face blanched at the thought. "Yeah, that would be fun." Eliza smiled, hoping her believed her, because it was genuine interest. "How many more people do you think you need to find?"
"You're dad will probably faint from the idea," he smirked. "Well, with me, possibly Zeph, and my eccentric roommate, that's three, but lets do dinner, something official to celebrate the end of the first quarter, and we'll talk about it there."
Eliza nodded, realizing how great a dinner out of the house sounded. She was growing tired of her father's meatloaf surprise. "Dinner sounds great, you'll let me know the details?"
"Once I have details to give," he said - well, besides one of the more obvious ones. "I'll call when I have a place in mind tonight."