Intolerance of Error (2/3)
Her school work had suffered greatly this week - and it was all her Dad’s and Gill’s faults. She grimaced, glancing around the library even as she thought that. Sort of - it was her fault too.
She couldn’t even write the time wasted off to research - though technically, that’s what it was. But it was also just plain fascinating reading. She’d been going through Gillian’s sent e-mails, and highlighting the ones that were of interest. She twirled her pink highlighter in her hand as she turned the page, and her eyes lit up.
From: gfoster@lightmangroup.com
Sent: November 7th, 2007 15:23:07
To: lightman@lightmangroup.com
Cal - I swear to God if you do not come out of your office right now, I am going to go in there to hose you down. -G.
From: gfoster@lightmangroup.com
Sent: November 7th, 2007 16:37:34
To: lightman@lightmangroup.com
I know you’re reading these e-mails Cal, I get that stupid read e-mail notification. -G.
From: gfoster@lightmangroup.com
Sent: November 7th, 2007 18:04:22
To: lightman@lightmangroup.com
I’m coming in and using my key. I may or may not beat the shit out of you. You missed five meetings today Cal, and I am not running this company alone. Nobody wants to deal with me since my name’s not Lightman. You will get up, sober up, wash your god damned shirt, get a shower and show up to work tomorrow. Get ready. - G.
From: lightman@lightmangroup.com
Sent: November 8th, 2007 10:42:21
To: gfoster@lightmangroup.com
Foster - sorry about last night. I put a new shirt on. And am not drunk this morning. You put up with too much.
From: gfoster@lightmangroup.com
Sent: November 8th, 2007 10:53:39
To: lightman@lightmangroup.com
Not drunk yet you mean. What color is your shirt?
From: lightman@lightmangroup.com
Sent: November 8th, 2007 10:59:51
To: gfoster@lightmangroup.com
What colour is it? What kind of bloody question is that? I dunno - it’s clean coloured.
From: lightman@lightmangroup.com
Sent: November 8th, 2007 11:00:32
To: gfoster@lightmangroup.com
I just checked, it’s black.
From: gfoster@lightmangroup.com
Sent: November 8th, 2007 11:06:10
To: lightman@lightmangroup.com
Yesterday’s shirt was black too. Or should I say last week’s shirt? You sure it’s clean? Because I am not bringing you to a meeting if you smell.
From: lightman@lightmangroup.com
Sent: November 8th, 2007 11:13:58
To: gfoster@lightmangroup.com
Oi, I do not smell. I showered and everything! What, don’t believe me then, Foster? Want a practical demonstration? I’m bloody single now, you know, so that can be arranged.
From: gfoster@lightmnagroup.com
Sent: November 8th, 2007 11:15:33
To: lightman@lightmangroup.com
I’m not! Tough luck :( The meeting is in 15 minutes - with the Rawlison’s. They have the missing daughter. Let me know if you can’t handle this. I’m serious, Cal.
From: lightman@lightmangroup.com
Sent: November 8th, 2007 20:07:07
To: gfoster@lightmangroup.com
I’ll be okay. Just - keep it up, Foster. Even if I’m a plonker, yeah?
Near as she could figure, that was the week after she and her Mom had left their house. Emily frowned, thinking back on the time period in question. She didn’t remember much - she’d cried a lot, and told her mother she hated her profusely. But she didn’t remember much about how her Dad had been during that time - every phone conversation she could recall, she’d cried through, telling her Dad how much she hated the new house, and how much she just wanted to go home. She’d been too wrapped up in her own drama to even check on how her Dad had been doing.
Which was clearly, not well.
She sighed, rubbing a hand over her face, wondering where exactly her father would be without Gillian. Where she would be.
Most of Gillian’s e-mails were routine work things - notices of meetings, office memo’s, budget reports, evaluation reports and the like. And her father seemed to generally not respond at all to them. She sifted through the next few pages of mundane emails until she came across one with an attached picture. She laughed out loud, drawing looks from the other people in the library.
From: gfoster@lightmangroup.com
Sent: March 17th, 2009 12:08:13
To: lightman@lightmangroup.com
Attachment: lolcats-ihateverything.jpg
Cal.
Since you refuse to go over the employee evaluations and send me back your approval, I will be sending one of these with every e-mail until you do. This one reminded me of you :)
Don’t even act like you don’t always read my e-mails. -G
From: lightman@lightmangroup.com
Sent: March 17th, 2009 12:15:07
To: gfoster@lightmangroup.com
What the fuck is that thing supposed to be? I do not look like that, Foster.
From: gfoster@lightmangroup.com
Sent: March 17th, 2009 12:17:23
To: lightman@lightmangroup.com
Attachment: lolcatsvoicesaretellingme.jpg
Yes you do. Some days. And you still haven’t told me your opinion on the evaluations. I’m waiting, Cal.
From: lightman@lightmangroup.com
Sent: March 17th, 2009 12:23:14
To: gfoster@lightmangroup.com
Jesus Christ Gill, stop attaching those bizarre cats. I read the reports. They looked fine. Send them off, then, alright? NO MORE CATS.
From: gfoster@lightmangroup.com
Sent: March 17th, 2009 12:32:17
To: lightman@lightmangroup.com
Attachment: lolcatsninja.jpg
LIAR!!! I recommended Loker for an upgrade to full pay PLUS a raise! You didn’t even READ those reports!
Ninja-ed.
From: lightman@lightmangroup.com
Sent: March 17th, 2009 12:35:54
To: gfoster@lightmangroup.com
Oh, bollocks.
From: gfoster@lightmangroup.com
Sent: March 17th, 2009 12:37:45
To: lightman@lightmangroup.com
Attachment: lolcats?.jpg
I’m grabbing us lunch and bringing the real evals to your office. You better be there. What do you want me to pick up for you?
From: lightman@lightmangroup.com
Sent: March 17th, 2009 12:39:12
To: gfoster@lightmangroup.com
Greek salad.
I hope you’ve run out of those things, love.
It was the last e-mail in the thread, and Emily was giggling to herself as she highlighted the whole section for cross-reference. She’d bet everything she had, which sure, wasn’t much admittedly, but she was willing to bet that her Dad’s secret file contained those damn pictures.
She was pulling out the important e-mails and putting tucking them in her binder, while separating the unimportant ones into a pile to be shredded before she went home for the weekend. Most of the e-mails were mundane, but she was enjoying going through them - it was a rare opportunity to see several things. One, the day to day running of her father’s business. Which he apparently left mostly to Gillian. Two, they often discussed cases, which she was absolutely sure her father would be livid to know she was reading the details of, but it gave her the most intimate view of how they worked these cases, and it was incredibly educational. And three, it showed her the level of respect and trust between Gillian and her father.
Oh sure, there were periods where the tone was crisp professional and you could clearly read tension between the lines, but for the most part there was an underlying warmth and humour in all of their correspondence, even the ones that were strictly professional.
She was flicking through rapidly now, skimming when her own name caught her eye. She hesitated for a moment, wondering if she should by pass this - she was fairly certain that anything her Dad and Gill had to discuss about her was probably something she shouldn’t see, but...
From: lightman@lightmangroup.com
Sent: August 22nd,2009, 13:23:09
To: gfoster@lightmangroup.com
Gill - hypothetically, if a sixteen year old girl lies to her dad about where she’s spending the night... this doesn’t necessarily mean she’s - you know. Shit. I’m gonna kill Emily, say your goodbye’s alright?
From: gfoster@lightmangroup.com
Sent: August 22nd, 2009, 13:42:28
To: lightman@lightmangroup.com
Cal, it’s a Saturday - why are you e-mailing me? Just call. And you won’t kill Em. She’s going to grow up no matter what you do.
From: lightman@lightmangroup.com
Sent: August 22nd, 2009, 14:02:13
To: gfoster@lightmangroup.com
I can’t talk about it. Out loud, if you know what I mean. This doesn’t seem so bad.
I don’t want her growing up. Especially if it means she’s growing up into her boyfriend’s bits.
Gill. She doesn’t know that I know she was at Dick’s last night. What do I do?
From: gfoster@lightmangroup.com
Sent: August 22nd, 14:05:57
To: lightman@lightmangroup.com
Attachment: lolcatsjob.jpg
Trust her, Cal. She is a good girl - she’ll come to you about all of this when she’s ready but if you push her, or confront her, you’ll fight and she’ll get stubborn. She’s kind of like her father that way. If you don’t want to call, Cal, then come over. Don’t be there when she gets back. You’ll do something stupid.
Come over. No arguments. Or else...
From: lightman@lightmangroup.com
Sent: August 22nd, 2009, 14:10:43
To: gfoster@lightmangroup.com
No. Stop it - no more of those bloody cats. I’ll come over. Just for the love of God don’t reply to this.
Emily sat in shock for a moment. She’d never realized her Dad had known, all along, that she’d been sleeping with Rick. He’d seemed so shocked and angry when she told him. But clearly that’d been an act - or, or maybe he had been shocked, because suspecting something wasn’t nearly the same as knowing it outright.
She smiled as she read Gill’s words again. Trust her, Cal. Gillian’d kept her Dad in check somehow, about the whole thing. She sat back, wondering just what the hell Gill had said to him that day when he went to her place. She licked her lips, picking up her phone, and scrolling through her contact list while shoving her papers into her bag and standing. She exited the library, hitting the send button as she stepped outside.
“Hello?”
“Gill?”
“Emily!” Gillian’s voice was warm, and Emily could hear a slight rustling. “How are you? I’m sorry I missed you last weekend - I was looking forward to you being home.”
“No, that’s alright. I’m coming home this weekend too. I’m working on a project, and I kinda need the break. Which is why I’m calling actually. I was hoping you’d have dinner with me and Dad maybe? I missed you last weekend.” She walked as she talked, her tone slightly wheedling. “We could maybe go shopping, and meet Dad for dinner.”
“Oh, he’s not invited for the shopping?” Gillian was laughing as she asked, and Emily chuckled.
“No, he could come if he wants to, but I doubt he’ll jump at the invitation.” Emily paused by a bench, sitting down and looking across the quad at the students bustling back and forth. “I need some new clothes.”
“Need?” Gillian laughed as she asked. “Really?!”
“Hey, need is a subjective term. According to me, I need them. And I’m sure if we happen to wander by a shoe store or two, you may find out you need some new things.” Emily grinned, her hand gripping the strap of her bag as she shifted on the bench. “Saturday, alright? I’ll mention it to Dad when I talk to him.”
“I’m looking forward to it.” Gillian’s response was warm and enthusiastic.
“Oi, Foster - stop faffing about on the phone and hop to it!”
“Is that my dad? Tell him to keep his pants on.” Emily instructed and Gillian laughed.
“Yeah it is.” Emily could hear the sound of the phone being moved. “It’s Emily. And I’m coming now.”
“Tell him to keep his pants on!” Emily laughed and Gillian’s laughter joined hers.
“I’m not telling him that!”
“She being cheeky? Tell her to call me later, now come on - we have to get to the scene.”
“Alright Em, I’ll see you on Saturday, alright?” Gillian sounded like she was moving as she spoke and Emily grinned, picturing her pulling her coat on while the phone was pressed to her shoulder, half hunched over her desk. Maybe her Dad was helping her put it on, handing her her purse - a small giggle escaped.
“Alright Gill, love you!” Emily heard Gill’s small intake of breath.
“Love you too, hon. Bye.”
“Bye.” She hung up, staring down at the phone thoughtfully. She remember Gillian’s reaction when she’d hugged her in her office, and she smiled fully, remembering her vow to keep telling Gillian how much she loved her. She knew each time she expressed it; Gillian was touched, truly and deeply touched. And she also knew it was probably something Gill didn’t hear every day. And she deserved to.
Spending time with Gillian would be part of her first practical experiment, but she knew she would enjoy the alone time with her friend, and she had to keep that in mind.
Nodding with resolve, she stood up and headed toward her dorm with a grin on her face.
Her Dad wouldn’t know what hit him.
~*~*~*~*~
Experiment 2 - subject A is questioned about his history with subject B and all observable responses are recorded.
“So Gillian told me you’d be going shopping together this weekend.”
“Yeah, Dad.” Emily responded, pressing her phone between her shoulder and her ear as she booted up her laptop. “I thought we’d all go out to dinner afterward, is that okay?”
“Oh I get a say now, do I?” His voice was snippy and she sighed harshly.
“I’m sorry; I didn’t think I’d need to run spending an evening with your daughter and your best friend by you. Are you and Gill fighting again?” She stuck the flash drive in as she spoke, lifting her head and holding her phone once more as she waited for the files to transfer to her hard drive.
“Again? Were we fighting before?” It was less a question and more a challenge.
“Not recently no, but you and I both know that there was that whole thing in my last year of high school. So I just thought I’d ask.” She tapped her fingers on the desk next to her computer and she rolled her eyes at the sound of her father’s grumbling.
“There wasn’t a thing that year.”
She laughed slightly, “Dad if you think there wasn’t a thing that year, then you are ridiculously blind when it comes to Gill. She walked around that office for almost three months looking like somebody shot her dog. She was sad all the time. And you were grumpy. And then, I don’t know - after Christmas it seemed to get better so I assumed you guys had worked it out.”
“We weren’t fighting, Emily.” His voice sounded tired and she winced in sympathy.
“You weren’t getting along though, were you? For a while - that Fall, right?”
He sighed softly, “You know me Em, sometimes I’m a right bastard. Gill and I - we worked through it though. We’re fine now.”
“You could be better than fine if you’d work it out instead of just working through it. Yeah Dad, I know you can be a big jerk sometimes - but never without reason. And I bet you never explained what that reason was to her, right?”
“This isn’t any of your business, love.” His voice was firm and she knew she wouldn’t get any further with him.
“Sorry - I didn’t mean to bring bad stuff up, Dad. I just missed Gill last weekend, and I thought I could spend time with her. I didn’t think you’d mind spending time with both of us.” Her voice was soft, contrite and she heard him exhale softly.
“Of course I don’t mind Em.”
“You get her all week long - I miss her when I’m gone.” She smiled as she spoke and she heard him chuckle.
“You don’t miss your dear old Dad? I am hurt, Emily.”
“Well, Gillian’s prettier.” She teased and he laughed slightly.
“Well, that’s certainly true. Alright - shall I cook something then, or did you want to go out?” His voice sounded lighter now and she sighed in relief.
“Oh can you make cottage pie, Dad? You know it’s my favourite! I eat enough crappy takeout food while I’m here, thanks.”
“If that’s what you want, love. I’ll see you on Friday then, yeah? Or are you gonna stop at your Mum’s first?” His tone acquired a slight edge as he mentioned her Mom and Emily shook her head, even though he couldn’t see her.
“Nah, Mom’s away this weekend. I’ll see you Friday evening, Dad. Love you!”
“Love ya too Em.” He hung up and she put her phone down on her desk, turning her attention to the file now transferred on to her laptop.
Opening it, she smiled victoriously when she saw thumbnails of the lolcat images Gillian had sent with her e-mails. There were also a few photos - shots of Gillian reading a book, one of her Dad and Gillian dressed up at some party. A shot of Gillian laughing. There was an image labelled as a scan, and she clicked on it to open the image. When it expanded on her screen she frowned, recognizing both her Dad and Gill’s handwriting on what looked like a napkin.
Clearly it was a back and forth between the two of them, and it looked like it was back when they decided to start the company. She stared at it for a beat before closing the file. There were scans of handwritten letters, images of his brain scans, and a copy of what looked like the file Gillian had for her Dad when he met her at the pentagon - Emily didn’t know much about how they met, but it looked like Gillian had been treating her dad.
There were audio files, and she plugged in her ear buds and listened with interest and no small amount of guilt. These were private sessions - but she couldn’t seem to help herself. Hearing her father’s guilt, hearing his voice in her ears as he explained about that man and his family. She swallowed heavily, wondering why they were recorded, and why her Dad would even have these files, let alone keep them.
He talked about her, in some sessions, and the sound of his voice made her smile. But he talked about her Mom too, and Emily suddenly understood there was a whole other layer to interactions between Gillian, her Dad and her Mom that she’d never even knew existed. She wondered if her Mom had known - when her Dad started the company with Gillian. Had she known Gillian was his shrink? That he talked to her about - about everything? That Gillian had understood him on some fundamental level before they’d even began?
She had to believe that he’d lied to her mother - told her she was a colleague, someone he’d worked with. Because if she’d known -
She sighed heavily at that thought. The final file was a video file - the only one included. She clicked on it, and it took a minute to open in her media player.
The first thing she heard was laughter, not a chuckle, not a guffaw but full laughter and she smiled, thinking she hadn’t heard that sound from her father in years.
“I don’t know what - the bloody hell, oh wait - Gill! Gill! I think I figured the fucking thing out!”
The screen went from dark to blurry and light, finally focusing on Gillian’s face, glaring at the lens. “Cal! Language.”
“What? Am I supposed to pretend like I don’t swear on this thing? Fuck, no - I think you know I have a mouth like a tramp steamer love. Who else is gonna care?” Gillian smiled and shook her head, her eyes twinkling.
“Maybe you’ll show Emily some day!”
“Oh right -” the camera swung around nauseatingly and suddenly she could see part of her Dad’s face in the shot, and Gillian, with her arms crossed behind him. He wagged a finger at the screen and frowned fiercely. “ Emily, don’t fucking swear, alright? It’s not on. There, feel better now darling?” He glanced over his shoulder before swinging the camera around again. Gillian laughed and the camera shook from side to side. “Come on, come on then! Open the damn door Gill, it’s bloody fucking freezing out here.”
“You’d be warmer if it hadn’t taken you fifteen minutes to figure out how to work the camera!” She scolded, pushing a key into the door and twisting the lock.
“You take much longer darling, and I’ll turn into a bird.”
“That sounds so wrong.” Gillian’s shoulders shook with laughter as she pushed open the door, walking in and reaching for the light, illuminating the small room beyond. There was a high partition jutting out from one wall - a receptionist’s desk. Gillian turned around, waving her arms expressively. “Welcome to The Lightman Group, Dr. Lightman.” She smiled, big and wide and it lit up her whole face.
“Why thank you, Dr. Foster.” The camera jostled as her father set it on the desk, walking over to where Gillian stood and taking her hand in his. He danced her around the empty room and Emily smiled as she watched Gillian throw her head back in laughter.
“This is going to be good, Cal.”
“No, love.” Her father danced them closer to the desk, his arm around Gillian’s waist, pulling her closer as he put his face within inches of hers. “It’s going to be brilliant, Gill. You and me? No other possible outcome.” Gillian laughed before pushing him away with a shove and walking over to the camera.
“Well I’ll just have to believe you, Cal. You’re the only honest man I know.” She reached for the camera, picking it up and turning it off, leaving the screen black once more. Emily stared at it for a moment longer before muting the sound and rewinding it back to the moment her Dad had pulled Gillian closer to him. She paused it, staring at the expression on her father’s face as he looked at Gillian. His chin was down, and his eyes were hooded, but the smile on his face was unlike any smile Emily had ever seen before.
Gillian had the same expression on her face - but lighter, airier - like laughter frozen and frosted with love. She stared at that picture for almost five minutes, before print screening it and saving it to her research file.
How could they both be so damn blind?
~*~*~*~*~
Experiment 3 - Subject B is manipulated to change the independent variable of her usual attire in order to elicit a response from Subject A.
“And then there’s this guy that is working with me on a partners project in Statistics.” Emily pulled her shirt over her head in the small changing room, pulling another one on and smoothing it down over her hips. She pulled the door aside and walked out. “What about this one?”
“Oh that’s cute, I like that one!” Gillian turned from where she was standing in front of the mirror in a red dress, just a touch shorter than she usually wore. It was about two inches above the knee, and had a high neckline, but it dipped low in the back. “What about this boy?”
“Oh my God Gill, you have to buy that dress. It looks fabulous on you! Look at those legs!” Emily was grinning and Gillian smoothed her hands down over her hips and thighs with a frown.
“You think? It seems a little short...”
“Well yeah it’s shorter than what you normally wear, but it’s still really classy, Gill. Plus you have fabulous legs! You should show them off.” Emily grinned and walked up beside Gillian, wrapping her up in a one-armed side hug. “You have to buy it. No arguments.”
“Alright, alright.” Gillian turned to Emily with a grin. “Now stop deflecting about this boy.”
“It’s not like that. He’s... I dunno, weird.” Em slipped back into the changing room and took the pants and top off that she was wearing, and slipped back into her own clothes. When she walked back out, she had an armful of clothes, and Gillian was waiting for her, also changed and holding a handful of dresses.
“Weird how?” Gillian asked as they stood in the line waiting to pay.
“He’s really quiet I guess. Intense, maybe? He’s so not my type, but I don’t know, there’s something about him when he talks to me. Like he never gets distracted, and he always pays attention. But I don’t know... he’s just not the type of guy I’d normally go for. He really sucks at talking to girls - not just me, any girl. And he’s ... I don’t know.” She paid as she spoke, and took her bags when she was done, joining Gillian who’d already paid.
“Sounds interesting.” Gillian spoke with a smile and Emily followed her out into the busy mall. “We should get some coffee, or some ice cream!”
“Ice cream? Dad will kill us if we spoil our appetites.”
“What are you, five? We’ll eat! Come on, there’s a Coldstone, Emily. Gummi bear ice cream is the best.” Gillian was pouting and Emily laughed, moving her bags to her left hand so she could take Gill’s hand and drag her forward through the mall. “Oh my god, Dad’s right, you really are twelve!”
After they’d gotten their ice creams and slid into their seats with a sigh, dropping their bags into the empty chairs beside them, Gillian grinned at Emily with a spoon in her mouth. “You know,” she started, removing the spoon and scooping up more of her gummi bear ice cream, “weird isn’t always a bad thing. Sometimes the strange ones are more... interesting.”
“Huh. You think? I’m not sure; physically he isn’t really my type. He’s not athletic, he’s not outgoing, he’s shorter then I’d like - not that that’s like, a problem or anything, I mean, you know, look at Dad. He’s not super tall, but still.” Gillian laughed as Emily spoke.
“He’s tall enough - height doesn’t matter as long as you still have the option of wearing heels without towering over him too much. And you know, you don’t have to deal that whole, crick in your neck, he’s hunching over you just to kiss you and making you bend back because he’s actually over compensating thing.”
“Wow.” Emily grinned and stared at Gillian who was busy eating another mouthful of ice cream, “that was really specific. Clearly an issue you’ve dealt with before.”
“I’ve dated tall guys. I don’t know, I don’t mind somebody my sizeish.” Gillian scraped her spoon along the bottom of her almost empty cup. “Darn it, I shouldn’t have let you talk me out of the gotta have it size!”
“Yeah, I’m sorry.” Emily laughed, taking a bite of her own ice cream. “Glutton.”
“Shut up!”
“Anyway he hasn’t even asked me out. So I don’t know what I’m even worried about. He’s just - he’s - I really like talking to him. He makes me smile.” She smiled as she looked down at her melting ice cream. She felt bad, lying to Gillian about this imaginary guy, so that’d she’d draw parallels and compare him to her dad. Something she’d made almost blatantly obvious, but she’d practiced her story about the mystery guy over and over last night so she wouldn’t sound practiced. Slipping a lie in a story by Gillian was kind of like trying to look her Dad in the eye and lie to his face.
“You should ask him out.”
Emily laughed out loud at Gillian’s advice, and Gillian snuck her spoon into Emily’s container, stealing a bite. “Hey! And I couldn’t ask him out.”
“Why not?”
“Because - because- I don’t know!” She looked down at the table, flushing with embarrassment. “I’ve never asked a guy out before.” She muttered.
“Such a feminist.” Gillian teased gently. “You said he’s not great at talking to girls, so maybe you need to take the reins, so to speak.” They stood, gathering their bags and tossing their cup sin the trash as they walked out of the store and headed out to the parking lot.
“I don’t know.” Emily bit her lip, turning the topic over in her head before sneaking a glance at Gillian. “We’re friends. What if that’s all it is?”
“Well, you’ll never know until you try.” Gillian insisted, unlocking her trunk and they put their bags inside. She shut it and then they opened their doors, and she started the car, buckling her seatbelt while Emily followed suit.
“Would you do that?” Emily asked as they pulled out onto the road, heading to drop Gill’s things off before they went to her Dad’s house. “I mean, if you had a friend you felt that way about?” She was skating a little too close to the edge, she could tell by the frown that creased Gillian’s forehead.
“I think it would depend on the situation, Em. You haven’t known this guy very long, and you’re not really good friends, so in this case, yes I would. I’d want to know.”
“And if you were really good friends for a really long time?”
“Emily.” Gillian’s tone was a warning and Emily sighed, sitting back in her seat.
“Sorry, it was just a question.” She apologized quickly. “It doesn’t matter. I think you’re right. Maybe I will ask him out - or at the very least try to spend more time with him and see if, I don’t know, maybe things happen.” They pulled into Gillian’s parking lot, and Emily went with her into her condo. She liked Gill’s place - it was very elegant and classy. Very Gillian. “You should put your new dress on.”
“Is it a fancy meal?” Gillian was laughing, moving down the hall to her bedroom as Emily trailed after her, watching her pull the dresses out of the bags neatly, clipping the tags and pulling empty hangers out of her closet.
“No, but it looks great on you Gill. They all do, but especially the red. And I don’t know, isn’t it nice to wear new stuff straight away sometimes? I always feel like I’m someone else - or could be.” She fingered the soft red fabric as she smiled over at Gill. “Some killer black pumps, and I bet you look so hot that Dad spills something twice tonight.”
Gillian flushed, and looked down at the dress in question. “I’m not looking to impress Cal, Em.”
“You do it without trying anyway, Gill. Come on - twenty bucks says you can get him to spill the wine at least twice, and make him forget what he’s saying a few times too. Let’s say five. But you have to wear some kick ass shoes, and you have to not hide the legs away.” She grinned, walking over to Gillian’s closet and going through her shoes until she found a black pair with a high heel and a red sole. “And it has to be these shoes.”
“Twenty bucks? This seems like a lot of work on my part for a lousy twenty bucks.”
“I’m a poor college student, Gill,” Emily pouted from her seated position on the floor. “Twenty bucks and a pint of gummi bear ice cream.” She amended and Gillian’s eyes lit up.
“Oh! You’re on. Sucker.” She picked up the dress and moved into the en suite bathroom, calling over her shoulder, “I’d have done it just for the ice cream!”
(3/3)
She couldn’t even write the time wasted off to research - though technically, that’s what it was. But it was also just plain fascinating reading. She’d been going through Gillian’s sent e-mails, and highlighting the ones that were of interest. She twirled her pink highlighter in her hand as she turned the page, and her eyes lit up.
From: gfoster@lightmangroup.com
Sent: November 7th, 2007 15:23:07
To: lightman@lightmangroup.com
Cal - I swear to God if you do not come out of your office right now, I am going to go in there to hose you down. -G.
From: gfoster@lightmangroup.com
Sent: November 7th, 2007 16:37:34
To: lightman@lightmangroup.com
I know you’re reading these e-mails Cal, I get that stupid read e-mail notification. -G.
From: gfoster@lightmangroup.com
Sent: November 7th, 2007 18:04:22
To: lightman@lightmangroup.com
I’m coming in and using my key. I may or may not beat the shit out of you. You missed five meetings today Cal, and I am not running this company alone. Nobody wants to deal with me since my name’s not Lightman. You will get up, sober up, wash your god damned shirt, get a shower and show up to work tomorrow. Get ready. - G.
From: lightman@lightmangroup.com
Sent: November 8th, 2007 10:42:21
To: gfoster@lightmangroup.com
Foster - sorry about last night. I put a new shirt on. And am not drunk this morning. You put up with too much.
From: gfoster@lightmangroup.com
Sent: November 8th, 2007 10:53:39
To: lightman@lightmangroup.com
Not drunk yet you mean. What color is your shirt?
From: lightman@lightmangroup.com
Sent: November 8th, 2007 10:59:51
To: gfoster@lightmangroup.com
What colour is it? What kind of bloody question is that? I dunno - it’s clean coloured.
From: lightman@lightmangroup.com
Sent: November 8th, 2007 11:00:32
To: gfoster@lightmangroup.com
I just checked, it’s black.
From: gfoster@lightmangroup.com
Sent: November 8th, 2007 11:06:10
To: lightman@lightmangroup.com
Yesterday’s shirt was black too. Or should I say last week’s shirt? You sure it’s clean? Because I am not bringing you to a meeting if you smell.
From: lightman@lightmangroup.com
Sent: November 8th, 2007 11:13:58
To: gfoster@lightmangroup.com
Oi, I do not smell. I showered and everything! What, don’t believe me then, Foster? Want a practical demonstration? I’m bloody single now, you know, so that can be arranged.
From: gfoster@lightmnagroup.com
Sent: November 8th, 2007 11:15:33
To: lightman@lightmangroup.com
I’m not! Tough luck :( The meeting is in 15 minutes - with the Rawlison’s. They have the missing daughter. Let me know if you can’t handle this. I’m serious, Cal.
From: lightman@lightmangroup.com
Sent: November 8th, 2007 20:07:07
To: gfoster@lightmangroup.com
I’ll be okay. Just - keep it up, Foster. Even if I’m a plonker, yeah?
Near as she could figure, that was the week after she and her Mom had left their house. Emily frowned, thinking back on the time period in question. She didn’t remember much - she’d cried a lot, and told her mother she hated her profusely. But she didn’t remember much about how her Dad had been during that time - every phone conversation she could recall, she’d cried through, telling her Dad how much she hated the new house, and how much she just wanted to go home. She’d been too wrapped up in her own drama to even check on how her Dad had been doing.
Which was clearly, not well.
She sighed, rubbing a hand over her face, wondering where exactly her father would be without Gillian. Where she would be.
Most of Gillian’s e-mails were routine work things - notices of meetings, office memo’s, budget reports, evaluation reports and the like. And her father seemed to generally not respond at all to them. She sifted through the next few pages of mundane emails until she came across one with an attached picture. She laughed out loud, drawing looks from the other people in the library.
From: gfoster@lightmangroup.com
Sent: March 17th, 2009 12:08:13
To: lightman@lightmangroup.com
Attachment: lolcats-ihateverything.jpg
Cal.
Since you refuse to go over the employee evaluations and send me back your approval, I will be sending one of these with every e-mail until you do. This one reminded me of you :)
Don’t even act like you don’t always read my e-mails. -G
From: lightman@lightmangroup.com
Sent: March 17th, 2009 12:15:07
To: gfoster@lightmangroup.com
What the fuck is that thing supposed to be? I do not look like that, Foster.
From: gfoster@lightmangroup.com
Sent: March 17th, 2009 12:17:23
To: lightman@lightmangroup.com
Attachment: lolcatsvoicesaretellingme.jpg
Yes you do. Some days. And you still haven’t told me your opinion on the evaluations. I’m waiting, Cal.
From: lightman@lightmangroup.com
Sent: March 17th, 2009 12:23:14
To: gfoster@lightmangroup.com
Jesus Christ Gill, stop attaching those bizarre cats. I read the reports. They looked fine. Send them off, then, alright? NO MORE CATS.
From: gfoster@lightmangroup.com
Sent: March 17th, 2009 12:32:17
To: lightman@lightmangroup.com
Attachment: lolcatsninja.jpg
LIAR!!! I recommended Loker for an upgrade to full pay PLUS a raise! You didn’t even READ those reports!
Ninja-ed.
From: lightman@lightmangroup.com
Sent: March 17th, 2009 12:35:54
To: gfoster@lightmangroup.com
Oh, bollocks.
From: gfoster@lightmangroup.com
Sent: March 17th, 2009 12:37:45
To: lightman@lightmangroup.com
Attachment: lolcats?.jpg
I’m grabbing us lunch and bringing the real evals to your office. You better be there. What do you want me to pick up for you?
From: lightman@lightmangroup.com
Sent: March 17th, 2009 12:39:12
To: gfoster@lightmangroup.com
Greek salad.
I hope you’ve run out of those things, love.
It was the last e-mail in the thread, and Emily was giggling to herself as she highlighted the whole section for cross-reference. She’d bet everything she had, which sure, wasn’t much admittedly, but she was willing to bet that her Dad’s secret file contained those damn pictures.
She was pulling out the important e-mails and putting tucking them in her binder, while separating the unimportant ones into a pile to be shredded before she went home for the weekend. Most of the e-mails were mundane, but she was enjoying going through them - it was a rare opportunity to see several things. One, the day to day running of her father’s business. Which he apparently left mostly to Gillian. Two, they often discussed cases, which she was absolutely sure her father would be livid to know she was reading the details of, but it gave her the most intimate view of how they worked these cases, and it was incredibly educational. And three, it showed her the level of respect and trust between Gillian and her father.
Oh sure, there were periods where the tone was crisp professional and you could clearly read tension between the lines, but for the most part there was an underlying warmth and humour in all of their correspondence, even the ones that were strictly professional.
She was flicking through rapidly now, skimming when her own name caught her eye. She hesitated for a moment, wondering if she should by pass this - she was fairly certain that anything her Dad and Gill had to discuss about her was probably something she shouldn’t see, but...
From: lightman@lightmangroup.com
Sent: August 22nd,2009, 13:23:09
To: gfoster@lightmangroup.com
Gill - hypothetically, if a sixteen year old girl lies to her dad about where she’s spending the night... this doesn’t necessarily mean she’s - you know. Shit. I’m gonna kill Emily, say your goodbye’s alright?
From: gfoster@lightmangroup.com
Sent: August 22nd, 2009, 13:42:28
To: lightman@lightmangroup.com
Cal, it’s a Saturday - why are you e-mailing me? Just call. And you won’t kill Em. She’s going to grow up no matter what you do.
From: lightman@lightmangroup.com
Sent: August 22nd, 2009, 14:02:13
To: gfoster@lightmangroup.com
I can’t talk about it. Out loud, if you know what I mean. This doesn’t seem so bad.
I don’t want her growing up. Especially if it means she’s growing up into her boyfriend’s bits.
Gill. She doesn’t know that I know she was at Dick’s last night. What do I do?
From: gfoster@lightmangroup.com
Sent: August 22nd, 14:05:57
To: lightman@lightmangroup.com
Attachment: lolcatsjob.jpg
Trust her, Cal. She is a good girl - she’ll come to you about all of this when she’s ready but if you push her, or confront her, you’ll fight and she’ll get stubborn. She’s kind of like her father that way. If you don’t want to call, Cal, then come over. Don’t be there when she gets back. You’ll do something stupid.
Come over. No arguments. Or else...
From: lightman@lightmangroup.com
Sent: August 22nd, 2009, 14:10:43
To: gfoster@lightmangroup.com
No. Stop it - no more of those bloody cats. I’ll come over. Just for the love of God don’t reply to this.
Emily sat in shock for a moment. She’d never realized her Dad had known, all along, that she’d been sleeping with Rick. He’d seemed so shocked and angry when she told him. But clearly that’d been an act - or, or maybe he had been shocked, because suspecting something wasn’t nearly the same as knowing it outright.
She smiled as she read Gill’s words again. Trust her, Cal. Gillian’d kept her Dad in check somehow, about the whole thing. She sat back, wondering just what the hell Gill had said to him that day when he went to her place. She licked her lips, picking up her phone, and scrolling through her contact list while shoving her papers into her bag and standing. She exited the library, hitting the send button as she stepped outside.
“Hello?”
“Gill?”
“Emily!” Gillian’s voice was warm, and Emily could hear a slight rustling. “How are you? I’m sorry I missed you last weekend - I was looking forward to you being home.”
“No, that’s alright. I’m coming home this weekend too. I’m working on a project, and I kinda need the break. Which is why I’m calling actually. I was hoping you’d have dinner with me and Dad maybe? I missed you last weekend.” She walked as she talked, her tone slightly wheedling. “We could maybe go shopping, and meet Dad for dinner.”
“Oh, he’s not invited for the shopping?” Gillian was laughing as she asked, and Emily chuckled.
“No, he could come if he wants to, but I doubt he’ll jump at the invitation.” Emily paused by a bench, sitting down and looking across the quad at the students bustling back and forth. “I need some new clothes.”
“Need?” Gillian laughed as she asked. “Really?!”
“Hey, need is a subjective term. According to me, I need them. And I’m sure if we happen to wander by a shoe store or two, you may find out you need some new things.” Emily grinned, her hand gripping the strap of her bag as she shifted on the bench. “Saturday, alright? I’ll mention it to Dad when I talk to him.”
“I’m looking forward to it.” Gillian’s response was warm and enthusiastic.
“Oi, Foster - stop faffing about on the phone and hop to it!”
“Is that my dad? Tell him to keep his pants on.” Emily instructed and Gillian laughed.
“Yeah it is.” Emily could hear the sound of the phone being moved. “It’s Emily. And I’m coming now.”
“Tell him to keep his pants on!” Emily laughed and Gillian’s laughter joined hers.
“I’m not telling him that!”
“She being cheeky? Tell her to call me later, now come on - we have to get to the scene.”
“Alright Em, I’ll see you on Saturday, alright?” Gillian sounded like she was moving as she spoke and Emily grinned, picturing her pulling her coat on while the phone was pressed to her shoulder, half hunched over her desk. Maybe her Dad was helping her put it on, handing her her purse - a small giggle escaped.
“Alright Gill, love you!” Emily heard Gill’s small intake of breath.
“Love you too, hon. Bye.”
“Bye.” She hung up, staring down at the phone thoughtfully. She remember Gillian’s reaction when she’d hugged her in her office, and she smiled fully, remembering her vow to keep telling Gillian how much she loved her. She knew each time she expressed it; Gillian was touched, truly and deeply touched. And she also knew it was probably something Gill didn’t hear every day. And she deserved to.
Spending time with Gillian would be part of her first practical experiment, but she knew she would enjoy the alone time with her friend, and she had to keep that in mind.
Nodding with resolve, she stood up and headed toward her dorm with a grin on her face.
Her Dad wouldn’t know what hit him.
~*~*~*~*~
Experiment 2 - subject A is questioned about his history with subject B and all observable responses are recorded.
“So Gillian told me you’d be going shopping together this weekend.”
“Yeah, Dad.” Emily responded, pressing her phone between her shoulder and her ear as she booted up her laptop. “I thought we’d all go out to dinner afterward, is that okay?”
“Oh I get a say now, do I?” His voice was snippy and she sighed harshly.
“I’m sorry; I didn’t think I’d need to run spending an evening with your daughter and your best friend by you. Are you and Gill fighting again?” She stuck the flash drive in as she spoke, lifting her head and holding her phone once more as she waited for the files to transfer to her hard drive.
“Again? Were we fighting before?” It was less a question and more a challenge.
“Not recently no, but you and I both know that there was that whole thing in my last year of high school. So I just thought I’d ask.” She tapped her fingers on the desk next to her computer and she rolled her eyes at the sound of her father’s grumbling.
“There wasn’t a thing that year.”
She laughed slightly, “Dad if you think there wasn’t a thing that year, then you are ridiculously blind when it comes to Gill. She walked around that office for almost three months looking like somebody shot her dog. She was sad all the time. And you were grumpy. And then, I don’t know - after Christmas it seemed to get better so I assumed you guys had worked it out.”
“We weren’t fighting, Emily.” His voice sounded tired and she winced in sympathy.
“You weren’t getting along though, were you? For a while - that Fall, right?”
He sighed softly, “You know me Em, sometimes I’m a right bastard. Gill and I - we worked through it though. We’re fine now.”
“You could be better than fine if you’d work it out instead of just working through it. Yeah Dad, I know you can be a big jerk sometimes - but never without reason. And I bet you never explained what that reason was to her, right?”
“This isn’t any of your business, love.” His voice was firm and she knew she wouldn’t get any further with him.
“Sorry - I didn’t mean to bring bad stuff up, Dad. I just missed Gill last weekend, and I thought I could spend time with her. I didn’t think you’d mind spending time with both of us.” Her voice was soft, contrite and she heard him exhale softly.
“Of course I don’t mind Em.”
“You get her all week long - I miss her when I’m gone.” She smiled as she spoke and she heard him chuckle.
“You don’t miss your dear old Dad? I am hurt, Emily.”
“Well, Gillian’s prettier.” She teased and he laughed slightly.
“Well, that’s certainly true. Alright - shall I cook something then, or did you want to go out?” His voice sounded lighter now and she sighed in relief.
“Oh can you make cottage pie, Dad? You know it’s my favourite! I eat enough crappy takeout food while I’m here, thanks.”
“If that’s what you want, love. I’ll see you on Friday then, yeah? Or are you gonna stop at your Mum’s first?” His tone acquired a slight edge as he mentioned her Mom and Emily shook her head, even though he couldn’t see her.
“Nah, Mom’s away this weekend. I’ll see you Friday evening, Dad. Love you!”
“Love ya too Em.” He hung up and she put her phone down on her desk, turning her attention to the file now transferred on to her laptop.
Opening it, she smiled victoriously when she saw thumbnails of the lolcat images Gillian had sent with her e-mails. There were also a few photos - shots of Gillian reading a book, one of her Dad and Gillian dressed up at some party. A shot of Gillian laughing. There was an image labelled as a scan, and she clicked on it to open the image. When it expanded on her screen she frowned, recognizing both her Dad and Gill’s handwriting on what looked like a napkin.
Clearly it was a back and forth between the two of them, and it looked like it was back when they decided to start the company. She stared at it for a beat before closing the file. There were scans of handwritten letters, images of his brain scans, and a copy of what looked like the file Gillian had for her Dad when he met her at the pentagon - Emily didn’t know much about how they met, but it looked like Gillian had been treating her dad.
There were audio files, and she plugged in her ear buds and listened with interest and no small amount of guilt. These were private sessions - but she couldn’t seem to help herself. Hearing her father’s guilt, hearing his voice in her ears as he explained about that man and his family. She swallowed heavily, wondering why they were recorded, and why her Dad would even have these files, let alone keep them.
He talked about her, in some sessions, and the sound of his voice made her smile. But he talked about her Mom too, and Emily suddenly understood there was a whole other layer to interactions between Gillian, her Dad and her Mom that she’d never even knew existed. She wondered if her Mom had known - when her Dad started the company with Gillian. Had she known Gillian was his shrink? That he talked to her about - about everything? That Gillian had understood him on some fundamental level before they’d even began?
She had to believe that he’d lied to her mother - told her she was a colleague, someone he’d worked with. Because if she’d known -
She sighed heavily at that thought. The final file was a video file - the only one included. She clicked on it, and it took a minute to open in her media player.
The first thing she heard was laughter, not a chuckle, not a guffaw but full laughter and she smiled, thinking she hadn’t heard that sound from her father in years.
“I don’t know what - the bloody hell, oh wait - Gill! Gill! I think I figured the fucking thing out!”
The screen went from dark to blurry and light, finally focusing on Gillian’s face, glaring at the lens. “Cal! Language.”
“What? Am I supposed to pretend like I don’t swear on this thing? Fuck, no - I think you know I have a mouth like a tramp steamer love. Who else is gonna care?” Gillian smiled and shook her head, her eyes twinkling.
“Maybe you’ll show Emily some day!”
“Oh right -” the camera swung around nauseatingly and suddenly she could see part of her Dad’s face in the shot, and Gillian, with her arms crossed behind him. He wagged a finger at the screen and frowned fiercely. “ Emily, don’t fucking swear, alright? It’s not on. There, feel better now darling?” He glanced over his shoulder before swinging the camera around again. Gillian laughed and the camera shook from side to side. “Come on, come on then! Open the damn door Gill, it’s bloody fucking freezing out here.”
“You’d be warmer if it hadn’t taken you fifteen minutes to figure out how to work the camera!” She scolded, pushing a key into the door and twisting the lock.
“You take much longer darling, and I’ll turn into a bird.”
“That sounds so wrong.” Gillian’s shoulders shook with laughter as she pushed open the door, walking in and reaching for the light, illuminating the small room beyond. There was a high partition jutting out from one wall - a receptionist’s desk. Gillian turned around, waving her arms expressively. “Welcome to The Lightman Group, Dr. Lightman.” She smiled, big and wide and it lit up her whole face.
“Why thank you, Dr. Foster.” The camera jostled as her father set it on the desk, walking over to where Gillian stood and taking her hand in his. He danced her around the empty room and Emily smiled as she watched Gillian throw her head back in laughter.
“This is going to be good, Cal.”
“No, love.” Her father danced them closer to the desk, his arm around Gillian’s waist, pulling her closer as he put his face within inches of hers. “It’s going to be brilliant, Gill. You and me? No other possible outcome.” Gillian laughed before pushing him away with a shove and walking over to the camera.
“Well I’ll just have to believe you, Cal. You’re the only honest man I know.” She reached for the camera, picking it up and turning it off, leaving the screen black once more. Emily stared at it for a moment longer before muting the sound and rewinding it back to the moment her Dad had pulled Gillian closer to him. She paused it, staring at the expression on her father’s face as he looked at Gillian. His chin was down, and his eyes were hooded, but the smile on his face was unlike any smile Emily had ever seen before.
Gillian had the same expression on her face - but lighter, airier - like laughter frozen and frosted with love. She stared at that picture for almost five minutes, before print screening it and saving it to her research file.
How could they both be so damn blind?
~*~*~*~*~
Experiment 3 - Subject B is manipulated to change the independent variable of her usual attire in order to elicit a response from Subject A.
“And then there’s this guy that is working with me on a partners project in Statistics.” Emily pulled her shirt over her head in the small changing room, pulling another one on and smoothing it down over her hips. She pulled the door aside and walked out. “What about this one?”
“Oh that’s cute, I like that one!” Gillian turned from where she was standing in front of the mirror in a red dress, just a touch shorter than she usually wore. It was about two inches above the knee, and had a high neckline, but it dipped low in the back. “What about this boy?”
“Oh my God Gill, you have to buy that dress. It looks fabulous on you! Look at those legs!” Emily was grinning and Gillian smoothed her hands down over her hips and thighs with a frown.
“You think? It seems a little short...”
“Well yeah it’s shorter than what you normally wear, but it’s still really classy, Gill. Plus you have fabulous legs! You should show them off.” Emily grinned and walked up beside Gillian, wrapping her up in a one-armed side hug. “You have to buy it. No arguments.”
“Alright, alright.” Gillian turned to Emily with a grin. “Now stop deflecting about this boy.”
“It’s not like that. He’s... I dunno, weird.” Em slipped back into the changing room and took the pants and top off that she was wearing, and slipped back into her own clothes. When she walked back out, she had an armful of clothes, and Gillian was waiting for her, also changed and holding a handful of dresses.
“Weird how?” Gillian asked as they stood in the line waiting to pay.
“He’s really quiet I guess. Intense, maybe? He’s so not my type, but I don’t know, there’s something about him when he talks to me. Like he never gets distracted, and he always pays attention. But I don’t know... he’s just not the type of guy I’d normally go for. He really sucks at talking to girls - not just me, any girl. And he’s ... I don’t know.” She paid as she spoke, and took her bags when she was done, joining Gillian who’d already paid.
“Sounds interesting.” Gillian spoke with a smile and Emily followed her out into the busy mall. “We should get some coffee, or some ice cream!”
“Ice cream? Dad will kill us if we spoil our appetites.”
“What are you, five? We’ll eat! Come on, there’s a Coldstone, Emily. Gummi bear ice cream is the best.” Gillian was pouting and Emily laughed, moving her bags to her left hand so she could take Gill’s hand and drag her forward through the mall. “Oh my god, Dad’s right, you really are twelve!”
After they’d gotten their ice creams and slid into their seats with a sigh, dropping their bags into the empty chairs beside them, Gillian grinned at Emily with a spoon in her mouth. “You know,” she started, removing the spoon and scooping up more of her gummi bear ice cream, “weird isn’t always a bad thing. Sometimes the strange ones are more... interesting.”
“Huh. You think? I’m not sure; physically he isn’t really my type. He’s not athletic, he’s not outgoing, he’s shorter then I’d like - not that that’s like, a problem or anything, I mean, you know, look at Dad. He’s not super tall, but still.” Gillian laughed as Emily spoke.
“He’s tall enough - height doesn’t matter as long as you still have the option of wearing heels without towering over him too much. And you know, you don’t have to deal that whole, crick in your neck, he’s hunching over you just to kiss you and making you bend back because he’s actually over compensating thing.”
“Wow.” Emily grinned and stared at Gillian who was busy eating another mouthful of ice cream, “that was really specific. Clearly an issue you’ve dealt with before.”
“I’ve dated tall guys. I don’t know, I don’t mind somebody my sizeish.” Gillian scraped her spoon along the bottom of her almost empty cup. “Darn it, I shouldn’t have let you talk me out of the gotta have it size!”
“Yeah, I’m sorry.” Emily laughed, taking a bite of her own ice cream. “Glutton.”
“Shut up!”
“Anyway he hasn’t even asked me out. So I don’t know what I’m even worried about. He’s just - he’s - I really like talking to him. He makes me smile.” She smiled as she looked down at her melting ice cream. She felt bad, lying to Gillian about this imaginary guy, so that’d she’d draw parallels and compare him to her dad. Something she’d made almost blatantly obvious, but she’d practiced her story about the mystery guy over and over last night so she wouldn’t sound practiced. Slipping a lie in a story by Gillian was kind of like trying to look her Dad in the eye and lie to his face.
“You should ask him out.”
Emily laughed out loud at Gillian’s advice, and Gillian snuck her spoon into Emily’s container, stealing a bite. “Hey! And I couldn’t ask him out.”
“Why not?”
“Because - because- I don’t know!” She looked down at the table, flushing with embarrassment. “I’ve never asked a guy out before.” She muttered.
“Such a feminist.” Gillian teased gently. “You said he’s not great at talking to girls, so maybe you need to take the reins, so to speak.” They stood, gathering their bags and tossing their cup sin the trash as they walked out of the store and headed out to the parking lot.
“I don’t know.” Emily bit her lip, turning the topic over in her head before sneaking a glance at Gillian. “We’re friends. What if that’s all it is?”
“Well, you’ll never know until you try.” Gillian insisted, unlocking her trunk and they put their bags inside. She shut it and then they opened their doors, and she started the car, buckling her seatbelt while Emily followed suit.
“Would you do that?” Emily asked as they pulled out onto the road, heading to drop Gill’s things off before they went to her Dad’s house. “I mean, if you had a friend you felt that way about?” She was skating a little too close to the edge, she could tell by the frown that creased Gillian’s forehead.
“I think it would depend on the situation, Em. You haven’t known this guy very long, and you’re not really good friends, so in this case, yes I would. I’d want to know.”
“And if you were really good friends for a really long time?”
“Emily.” Gillian’s tone was a warning and Emily sighed, sitting back in her seat.
“Sorry, it was just a question.” She apologized quickly. “It doesn’t matter. I think you’re right. Maybe I will ask him out - or at the very least try to spend more time with him and see if, I don’t know, maybe things happen.” They pulled into Gillian’s parking lot, and Emily went with her into her condo. She liked Gill’s place - it was very elegant and classy. Very Gillian. “You should put your new dress on.”
“Is it a fancy meal?” Gillian was laughing, moving down the hall to her bedroom as Emily trailed after her, watching her pull the dresses out of the bags neatly, clipping the tags and pulling empty hangers out of her closet.
“No, but it looks great on you Gill. They all do, but especially the red. And I don’t know, isn’t it nice to wear new stuff straight away sometimes? I always feel like I’m someone else - or could be.” She fingered the soft red fabric as she smiled over at Gill. “Some killer black pumps, and I bet you look so hot that Dad spills something twice tonight.”
Gillian flushed, and looked down at the dress in question. “I’m not looking to impress Cal, Em.”
“You do it without trying anyway, Gill. Come on - twenty bucks says you can get him to spill the wine at least twice, and make him forget what he’s saying a few times too. Let’s say five. But you have to wear some kick ass shoes, and you have to not hide the legs away.” She grinned, walking over to Gillian’s closet and going through her shoes until she found a black pair with a high heel and a red sole. “And it has to be these shoes.”
“Twenty bucks? This seems like a lot of work on my part for a lousy twenty bucks.”
“I’m a poor college student, Gill,” Emily pouted from her seated position on the floor. “Twenty bucks and a pint of gummi bear ice cream.” She amended and Gillian’s eyes lit up.
“Oh! You’re on. Sucker.” She picked up the dress and moved into the en suite bathroom, calling over her shoulder, “I’d have done it just for the ice cream!”
(3/3)