Standin' On the Edge (6/6)
RJ Ferrance, DC, MD (rferrance@VCU.ORG)
Tue, 6 Feb 2001 12:43:27 -0500
Spare no expense.
Those had been Amanda's words, and Michelle had taken her at them. For
three days - ever since leaving Duck in the middle of the night - she'd
stayed in Charleston's most luxurious hotel, dining on the finest food and
sampling the best the city had to offer. And yet, not even the tall flutes
of exquisite champagne seemed to wash away the bitter taste of regret.
Charleston had proven to be a beautiful city. Everything she'd always
envisioned the 'Old South' to be, only without all that ugliness that
everyone seemed to pretend had never happened and wasn't still happening.
And the town was old, with many of the buildings she'd explored having been
in the same place, looking nearly the same way, for over two centuries. The
city had a truly timeless quality that she was looking forward to
appreciating someday. Like on a return trip in a hundred years or so.
That, after all, would be one of the things she'd have gained with this
Immortality bit.
Michelle checked her watch. Again. Amanda was late. Again.
If she didn't arrive soon, that lounge lizard in the corner with the "Hello,
I'm Paul from Allstate" sticker still on his jacket was going to find
himself a spine and walk over and deliver some horrendous pick-up line or
another. The look in his eyes was unmistakable. He had been watching
Michelle, while trying to not look as if he'd been watching her, for at
least half an hour.
A week ago, Michelle would have been flattered. Now she felt... bothered.
Well, the part of her that didn't feel flattered did, anyway.
She cast her eyes out through the large windows that overlooked the harbor
where large boats and small ones amicably shared the busy waterway. It was
growing dark over the Atlantic, and even with the dining room's lights
dimmed, the windows were beginning to show as much of the room around her as
they were of the harbor outside. This made it easier to keep an eye on the
conventioning insurance agent.
She tipped the champagne glass to her lips while her eyes again scanned the
room. They fell, again, on her own reflection - after she reminded herself
that the woman looking back at her was her reflection - and found that she
was frowning.
Her hair was different. The long cascading waves were gone, cut to a length
just short of her shoulders. The hundred dollar bill and the request to the
stylist to 'do whatever you want with it' had paid off handsomely. It gave
her an outward image that certainly spoke of sophistication. The simple yet
form fitting navy blue suit added to the look to make her seem like someone
important. Maybe even someone ten years more mature.
Now, if she could only grow into that look.
The frown, she knew all too well, came from the fact that a couple of
hundred miles north her former host was probably still wondering why she'd
left in the middle of the night without even saying goodbye. And he
probably, hopefully, still didn't even know how far she'd abused his
hospitality.
That thought deepened the frown. She was still as disappointed with herself
as she had been the night she'd slipped out of his house like... well, like
a thief in the night. That feeling in her chest, and in her stomach... the
one she got every time she thought about Matt... that was guilt. She
remembered it from when she was younger. From when she was still mortal.
>From before her time with Amanda.
Very late - in another circumstance it could have been too late - she
realized that growing roar in her head wasn't the champagne talking.
"Michelle, darling!" Damn. She hadn't noticed Amanda enter the panoramic
reflection in the windows. So much for her attempts at being all-observant.
Almost clinically, she tucked away a reminder: In her new Immortal life,
champagne was not a safe friend.
Michelle found a smile for her teacher as the exuberant woman bent down to
favor her with a kiss of greeting.
"Hello, Amanda." Michelle kept her voice quiet, her restrained smile
showing both her pleasure at seeing the woman again and her discomfort over
their reason for meeting.
"Getting out of LaGuardia was simply dreadful," Amanda told her with her
usual melodrama. She then reached out to catch the arm of a passing waiter.
"A martini, please," she said with her usual enchanting smile.
"Of course, madam." And he was gone. Paul from Allstate had a new focus of
attention now that Amanda had arrived. That always happened, but this time
Michelle didn't mind. She hid a smirk behind her flute, wondering if that
look in Paul's eyes was similar to the one a naive mouse would have when
seeing a beautiful cat for the first time.
"Your hair, Michelle," Amanda gushed. "It's so...." Her eyes squinted a
bit and her hands circled the air as she scrambled for a word.
"Sophisticated?" Michelle offered.
Amanda's face showed that she approved of the word, even if it didn't seem
like the one she'd have chosen herself. "That's one way of saying it," she
agreed.
Michelle gave her a thin-lipped smile of thanks.
"So, how'd it go?" Amanda asked her. "You had no problems, obviously.
Didn't I tell you you'd like him? And he took to you instantly, I'm sure."
Michelle shrugged. The problems were all happening now that the job was
done. "We got along fine," she said lightly.
"And...?"
She would push, wouldn't she? "And, what?" Michelle asked her, all
innocence.
"You know." She bounced her head back and forth, stopping suddenly when the
martini magically appeared on the table before them.
Michelle simply blinked. Twice. Not even a moment to ask how Matt was
doing? After all the years he and Amanda had known each other? After the
way Matt, Mr. Anal and Always in Control, became so positively *goofy*
whenever Amanda's name came up in conversation?
Before Amanda could push further and piss her off, thereby ruining that
sophisticated persona she'd worked so diligently to cultivate, Michelle
gently pushed the bulging manilla envelope, the object of her Quest, across
the small table toward the older Immortal. "In its current form," she
recited, her voice quiet and even, "it's just over 175,000 words, broken
down into 34 chapters. It takes place in Ireland, in a small town just
outside of Dublin, in 1923. Its main characters are a country doctor, his
wife, and a merciless but not-necessarily-evil Irish revolutionary. His
notes mention two possible titles: He seems to favor 'Walking Against the
Sun'. His agent prefers 'Should You Meet a Banshee Along the Road to
Malahide'."
Amanda sipped her martini and took in the information attentively, but with
an expression of genteel ennui, waiting impatiently for the one thing she
most wanted to hear.
Rather than make her ask, Michelle simply dropped it on her. "You are not
even mentioned."
Amanda's reaction, though it seemed to surprise Amanda, didn't at all
surprise Michelle. The platinum blonde pouted. "I was afraid that it was
all about me," she said. "And now, I think I'm disappointed that it's not."
Michelle waited through a contemplative pause, and then gave Amanda a mild,
thoughtful frown, an expression that could have meant anything. She,
herself, didn't know what it meant. But a quick glance into the window told
her it looked sophisticated, so that was good enough for her.
Amanda cocked an eyebrow. "You brought me the story anyway, even though I'm
not in it?" she asked quizzically.
"Yes," Michelle told her.
"But darling, whatever for?"
Michelle tried to fight it, but the frustrated sigh would not be denied.
One can only evolve so quickly, she excused herself. "Amanda, you really
need to read it," she told her with some conviction. "Just like it is now,
with all the emotion, before his editor makes him tone it down. Right now,
it's still full of how he feels about those days. I think it's as much
therapy as it is storytelling. It's a look directly into his soul. If you
love Matt Brennan - and I think you do -, then you need to read the story."
Amanda absorbed that information without comment, then sighed and nearly
drained her martini. When she turned toward the windows, Michelle knew the
conversation was closed. And she knew she'd failed to make her point. "I'm
flying out again tonight," Amanda told her, "on my way to Monaco." She
turned a sly sideways glance on Michelle. "There's an International
Jeweler's convention there next weekend. Wanna come? You and me in Monaco?
Even allowing for scout work, we'll have plenty of time to spend on the
beach," she said enticingly
Michelle smiled softly, but shook her head. It wasn't even tempting right
now. "No, I don't think so," she said.
Amanda arched an eyebrow at her. "You sure? It'd be lots of fun."
The head-shake again. "No, thanks." She was swirling the last ounce or so
of champagne in her glass and being careful not to meet her teacher's eyes.
She was afraid if she did, she'd change her mind. "I think I'm just going
to relax a bit, maybe take a drive up along the coast...."
Amanda shook her head. "You'd be missing a great time," she warned her.
Still no response. "Well, if you change your mind, just come to Monaco.
You know how to find me."
"I will." She stood when Amanda did, and hugged her goodbye. Picking up
the manilla envelope, Amanda turned and headed toward the door, blowing a
quick kiss to her student as she ran off.
After a moment, Michelle folded back into her seat and toyed with the rest
of her champagne.
And tried to think again of what she'd gained for what she'd given up. This
time.
****************************************************
RJ Ferrance, DC, MD
Combined Internal Med/Pediatrics Resident
Medical College of Virginia Hospitals
Richmond, VA 23298
rferrance@vcu.org
http://views.vcu.edu/~medtoast/anvil.html