Cheer-Stained: One Week In Westbridge

17: Westbridge Over Troubled Waters

"Hey, Libby... how are you this morning?"

A nod was all the response I could muster. I'm sure Morgan was wondering why I was sitting on the kitchen counter, knees drawn up under my chin and staring out the window, but I didn't really have an answer.

"Okie-dokie," she said slowly, eyes squinting at me. After a few moments of lingering for some other sign of life, she sighed and opened the refrigerator, pouring herself a glass of chilled green tea. "Did you sleep okay?"

"No."

She joined me by the counter. "Really? Oh, I'm sorry..."

"Mm."

She laid a hand on my ankle; it felt warm compared to my freezing feet. "You... wanna talk about it now, maybe?"

"Not really."

"Well, okay," she muttered, biting her lip as she tried to read me again. I concentrated on making my face look as blank as possible; nobody could know the kind of mental, moral and philosophical questions firing through my synapses. Hell, I didn't even want to think about them.

"I'm leaving," I whispered simply.

"What?"

"In a few hours. Back to New York."

"Oh." Though it was only a small, insignificant speck of comfort in this shitstorm of yuckyness, the fact that she genuinely looked disappointed that I was leaving did make me feel better. "That's too bad, but I guess you have to."

"Yeah... Adymm misses me."

"He does?"

"Yeah. I talked to him last night, before we left for the club... there was some lingering weirdness, but we're bridging the gap or whatever."

"Aww, how sweet."

I fiddled with the hem of my blouse. "I guess." Several seconds passed before Morgan spoke again, and boy did she.

"GOD, I can't stand it! This whole silent treatment thing is so ridiculous, and it's seriously putting a damper on my mood! Nobody was murdered, no broken bones, so what's your friggin' problem? I mean it, I seriously want to know - what the hell went down last night?!"

Before I could even try to field that one, I broke down crying. For a few minutes, there were no new developments to speak of; then Morgan's arm was around my back, the other hand stroking my hair as she shushed me. The last thing I wanted to do was show any shred of emotion, and here I was pouring it out by the bucketful. Some willpower I have!

~ o ~

Logan Airport was pretty crowded, as I expected; holiday flights are the worst. Since everybody else was either busy or not talking to me, Roxie volunteered to see me off; after getting there at least an hour early for my flight and checking my bags (or bag, I guess), we got some Starbucks and sat around for a few minutes.

"So you're really leaving things like this?" Roxie was asking. "I feel so helpless..."

"What choice do I have? I tried talking to her this morning, but she... she wouldn't even look at me to tell me goodbye."

"Sorry. I tried talking to her about this last night, and this morning again, but-"

"Nothing." I laughed harshly. "Like Junior Prom: The Sequel - y'know, longer and with a bigger budget, but even worse than its predecessor."

She nodded, swishing the contents of her cup idly. "Can't say I blame her... or you. Really, I can't say anything at all about any of this, since I'm less informed than Gomer Pyle."

"I know, and I wish I could fill you in..." For the first time, I really strained with it; I wanted to let it out, to spill my guts and hope it relieved some pressure. "But I can't. Even if I had no problem personally, she'd kill me if I dragged you into it without talking to her about it first."

"But that's stupid - she's not speaking to you! How are you going to-"

"I know, I know," I reiterated. Wanting to say something with tied hands, I did what I could. "But... if Sabrina ever says or acts like she wants to talk, you can tell her I said it's okay. Okay?"

She rolled her eyes. "Oh, yeah, that's big, steaming piles of 'help'."

"Isn't it, though?"

We both sighed. Then, the loudspeaker announced that the plane was beginning to board.

"Guess this is it," Roxie said, setting her paper cup down and standing with me.

"Yeah."

After a few seconds of hesitation, she squeezed me hard. "It was great meeting you, Libby - hopefully your next visit goes less disasterly."

"Thanks," I said with no small amount of earnestness as we released and I re-shouldered my purse. "And the pleasure was totally mine, Rox."

"Have a good flight!" she called after me as I walked off toward security. "Dress warmly!"

~ o ~

Maybe half an hour passed between then and the final boarding call. For some reason, I didn't get on the plane immediately; like an idiot, I waited around for something to happen, something that would fix everything or make me feel better - or at least something that would make me feel less like dying. It never came.

When I saw an employee walk over to the gate door, I ran up to the desk and showed them my ticket, and they let me squeeze in. Just as the door began swinging to, I took one last look back through it...

And there she was. There were dozens of people and rows of empty chairs between us, and I only had about five seconds to do a double take, but there was no mistaking her; Sabrina had bought a ticket and gone through security just to see me off, I could see it in her hand. My arm tensed, my mouth twitched, but there was no use; once they shut that door there's no getting them to open it, and I didn't even have long enough to squeak out a "Wait!" Before the door closed completely, I had enough time to register two other things: that her cheeks were glistening with what could only be tears, and that her other hand, the ticket-free one, was waving.

Just enough time for that before I was headed back to New York... and Sabrina was gone.

The End Of The Innocence