All This Time

9 ⦿ in which i play the girlfriend

December 22, 2010 1:35 p.m.

By the time I got out of there, Graeme and her brother have vanished from sight. Humphrey, noticing my distress, sends me a grandfatherly smile. "May I assist you, miss?" he asks gently, lowering his voice an octave.

"Um, yes." I smile awkwardly, tucking an errant strand of hair behind my ear. "Can you point me in the direction of Graeme's room?" It's common knowledge that in times of crisis, girls flee to their sanctuaries to grumble and sulk in private - I figure even for snarky villains-in-training like Graeme, that rule applies.

"Third floor," Humphrey imparts, "and then turn left when you reach the landing. Go all the way to the end of the hall. It's the very last door."

"Thank you." I'm grateful for the reassuring, twinkling smile he gives me. With a fresh bout of courage, I set off, following his directions down to the letter. This is the last place I want to get lost; a house like this is bound to have a torture chamber or dungeon, after all.

As I walk, I have time to dissect Graeme and her brothers. Levi clearly seems to be the black sheep of the family. He had almost no interaction with Rhona and Marcus, and the fact he was seated so far away from Graeme and Wolfram implies he isn't that close to them, either.

Wolfram's hostility is entirely unwarranted and frankly, bordering on offensive. If I was on home turf, I would have demanded an explanation, but Xander works for his family and I don't want to jeopardize whatever friendship he has with the van der Waals by confronting Wolf.

Graeme's hostility, on the other hand, is crystal-clear. I barely know her but I get the impression that she's the kind of girl who doesn't have a lot of girl friends. We don't have to be friends, but we don't have to be enemies either. I'm no threat to her relationship, or lack of, with Xander. I'll forgive her obvious jealousy as long as she retracts the claws - and more importantly, doesn't try to sink them into my best friend.

I'm just not so sure she'll forgive me that easily. As an only child, I've never had to deal with a parent favoring a sibling over me - I can only imagine how much more it hurts when a parent favors a stranger over his own daughter. Thanks a lot, Marcus.

Thinking distracts me from the heinous trek up the stairs. Three damn floors of them. It's oppressively hot in the house and my sweater isn't really helping; my armpits feel slightly damp and my back feels a little sticky, too. By the time I reach the landing, I'm feeling sufficiently gross. I turn right and walk to the end of the hall. I'm expecting to hear angry, plaintive bitching, but it's curiously silent. I glance left, glance right. It's so quiet I could hear the proverbial pin drop.

I raise my hand and knock on the door with three steady raps. I wait a moment but when I can hear no noise inside, I knock again. "Graeme?" I call out softly. My mind spins with possibilities and then lands on the most likeliest one - she exhausted herself by crying into her pillow and fell asleep. Do I really want to wake a sleeping dragon?

My need to put things right with her wins out over self-preservation and I turn the doorknob, trying to stifle my sense of dread. "Graeme?" I whisper cautiously, opening the door and stealthily slipping inside. The bed is empty. In fact, something about the room feels wrong.

It's not girly and dainty with pastels and florals, it's masculinely monotone. The bedding and walls are navy-blue with crisp white pillows and white throw rugs over the polished wood floor. The furniture is a set; the dresser, desk, and end tables are made from the same wood and are neatly arranged with books, electronics, and copper gooseneck lamps. A black lace bra is slung carelessly on the footboard of the bed. Like everything else about Graeme, it looks expensive.