I rest my hand on Chance’s shoulder and say in the calmest voice I can manage, "Yes Chance. I know. I have been trying to ignore the issue since last night, but I guess the secret’s out." He shakes his head muttering, "Oh Faith..." I apologize because I can’t think of anything else to do. He just looks me in the eye and says, "Everything will be okay as long as you believe it will." I look at him skeptically before wrapping my arms around him, because I know that advice will save me. I plant a soft kiss on his cheek before checking back in on the others. They all seem to be very content with their intimate conversations with complete strangers. I run into my room to change into something decent at the least. When I return I am not surprised to see them still engrossed in their discussions about who knows what. I run over to Hope and whisper in her ear, "What are you two talking about?" She smiles and whispers to my face, "I’ll tell you in a little bit." She winks and I giggle like a little girl who has just received a new teddy bear. Which is basically the case, just a little twisted: I am a twenty three year old girl who has just received her sister’s love for the first time in eight months. I walk over to the couch and pick up a sleeping Tigger, limp and lazy. I squeeze him tight, trying not to think about my burned collection. I carry him with me to the powder room where I choke back a tear, and I can’t tell if it is from happiness, sadness, or if I am just tired. When I open the door, I see the friendly face of the kind worker. I fake a smile, and he tells me that they are going to give us a little privacy for the afternoon, but that they will be back around five. I nod and escort them out the door.
"That leaves the fantastic four," remarks Ezra. Chance laughs as he counters, "No, it leaves the fabulous four!" We all burst into laughter, laughter that I really needed to hear right now. I glance over at Hope and ask her if she happened to catch the kind young worker’s name. She replies, "Joshua." And I can’t help but notice that she is blushing a little. I shoot her a wry smile and her face turns to a deep shade of maroon. Everyone laughs and she looks as if she might burst from all the embarrassment. I tell her that we are just messing with her, and I slowly see the color in her face turn back to its normal shade of pearly pink. After a moments pause, Ezra asks what the plans are for today. I give Chance a look that says, "Does he always have to plan everything?" And Chance replies with his eyes, "Yes, yes he does." I glance over at Ezra and he says, "What?" The rest of us all burst out laughing and out of the corner of my eye I can see that Chance looks really proud. As the laughter wears down, I continue to think about how special Ezra and Chance are to each other.
An hour later I find myself sitting in my work space with nothing but my sketch book, while the others fool around in the living room. I tell them that they don’t have to wait around here for me, and that it would probably be much more enjoyable to go elsewhere. But they refuse, so I shrug and say, "If you just want to hang around with boring old me I guess that’s fine." Chance randomly spits out words of inspiration from the other room, and I see it is no help at all when I find that after two hours of brainstorming I have not even sketched one whole look. I decide to try and make use of my time, so I make my way over to the living room, and ask if anyone would like to assist me in sorting out the apartment. They all kindly agree to help me, and we split up in different sections of the apartment. Ezra and Chance clean the living room, I clean the kitchen, and Hope cleans my work space. A trashcan is placed in each section, along with a dust broom and a pan. About twenty minutes later, I walk around to check on every one's progress. Ezra and Chance have barely made any progress, they are too busy tickling each other’s noses to even notice me, and I don’t blame them. I continue on to Hope’s section, and I see my workspace looking cleaner than it ever has. Although I am thrilled with my sister’s magnificent organizations skills, I feel a little pang in my heart because my work space is also pretty much empty.
I fake a smile and fight back some tears as I trudge back over to the kitchen. Chance, Ezra, and Hope seem to notice my depressed state, and they all start simultaneously asking, "Faith! Are you alright? Did I say something? Faith, what’s wrong?" And that’s when I can’t contain myself any longer. I burst into loud, pathetic tears. The moment when people ask me what’s wrong, always makes me start bawling my eyes out. I thought my friends all knew that by now, but as I stand there uncontrollably sobbing, it seems as if the world is coming to an end. Everyone is probably feeling quite awkward right now, no thanks to me. So I spare them the humiliation of trying to calm me, and I take my emotions to the powder room. I lock the door like a little school girl would do, but I am not concerned about my reputation at this point.
I hear whispering and bustling from outside the powder room. That is one of the great things about apartment living, you can always hear what everyone is saying from anywhere. I don’t dare look at my appearance in the purple tasseled mirror hanging above the sink. So instead I begin to freshen myself up without looking at my reflection, quite a difficult task, but one I am very skilled at as a young girl. After I have managed to wipe off the bulk of mascara under my eyes, I take three deep breathes before coming out of my little hideaway. No one says anything as I walk out. They are probably all too frightened of making me burst out into tears again, so they would rather not take the risk. I try to steady my voice as I apologize, but it seems as if no sound is escaping my lips. I pull them all into a group hug, because I know nothing else that would better cease the awkwardness. I think of how I ruined a perfectly good afternoon with my friends, all because of my own selfish feelings. My mother has always told me to never feel sorry for myself, but I always manage to make exceptions to that rule. Suddenly, my phone vibrates against Chance’s fough leather pants. I reach into my pocket just in time, as the chorus of Enchanted slowly comes to an end. "Hello?" I hear a voice on the other end that seems oddly familiar. My thoughts are clarified as he informs me that he is part of the emergency team that helped clear out the fire. I act like I haven't been crying for the past twenty minutes, only to receive devastating news. I have to pay a fee of $1,000 to the emergency team for their services.
