Gravity | ONC 2023

Chapter 10

Alice

There's something about seeing someone first thing in the morning. Eloise looks like she just rolled out of bed. She's in sweatpants and a jacket (both in pastels, of course). Her hair is bunched up in a bright yellow scrunchie. I don't think her shoes are tied.

"Hi," she breathes, meeting me where I'm frozen in the middle of the hallway on the way back from the bathroom. This is almost as crazy as last night. Am I dreaming? Did I sleepwalk to the bathroom?

"Hi," I mumble, rubbing my eyes. "Are you actually here? Or am I dreaming?"

She smiles and shoves her hands in her pockets. "I'm actually here. Is that ok?"

"Of course it is. I'm...surprised. But it's definitely ok." I chew on my cheek. "I, uh, was going to try to find you on Instagram or something this morning. You beat me to it. I wanted to see you again."

"I wanted to see you again, too."

Realizing that we're still standing in the middle of the hallway being dodged by nurses, I snag her elbow and guide her to the corner of the waiting area that I claimed.

"You actually slept here last night?" she asks, sitting crisscross in the chair next to me.

"Yeah." I turn as best I can face her. "I mean, I didn't sleep well."

"I would assume not," she giggles. She waits a beat. "I-I was going to try to find you on Instagram, too. Or Facebook or something. But then...I realized I knew where you'd be today. At least at some point."

"And if I wasn't here?"

"Well, I would've checked to see if your mom was still here. If she was, I'd talk to her. Or Peter. Get your number. If she wasn't...well, I know where she lives now. And if I was really desperate, I could try to catch one of your co-stars outside the Gershwin."

I chuckle. "At that point, I think Instagram would be easier."

"Probably." She starts chewing on her thumbnail. "But it was a pretty good bet that you'd be here. Or at least that your mom hadn't been discharged this early, and I'd find you here eventually. I didn't even change. Didn't eat breakfast. Just threw on pants and shoes and came here."

So, she really did just roll out of bed.

"You're insane," I tell her.

She smiles. "I figured...I wanted to talk to you in person. About last night."

I lay my hand on her knee. "It's ok. I -"

"No, I...I want to explain." She takes a deep breath. "When my mom was sick, my dad never left her side. He was at the hospital every spare moment, feeding her when she was too weak to eat, holding her when she was nauseous, telling her she was beautiful even when her hair fell out. He never complained about the hours of sleep he lost or medical bills or taking care of us. And that's how they always were. My whole childhood. They were loving and sweet and never argued or disagreed. At least, they didn't in front of me. And I want to keep them that way, you know? I want to have them in my mind as perfect. The only good memories I have from that time are the two of them."

My stomach twists. "I'm sorry for what I said last night. About them. I didn't mean -"

"No, I know." She slides her hand under mine and swipes her thumb across the back of it. "But you were right. They weren't perfect. No one is. And I shouldn't be holding people or relationships to that level of perfection that didn't even really exist. When I dated AJ, we didn't really have anything to disagree about. We were in high school. And until we had to figure out college, we'd never really had a real, solid conversation about anything important. At the first sign of conflict - discomfort - I ran. And I've been running ever since."