Goode Things Take Time

14

I sat there in the lobby, helpless. As the masses of people converged around me I couldn't help but feel an acute sense of dread slowly creeping up on me.

"Zach!" snaps Abigail, and I look up to see her standing over me with her arms crossed. "What the hell do you think you're doing? It's madness out there."

I buried my face in my hands, tears threatening to work their way out of my eyes. I couldn't answer her, I couldn't speak.

"Come on." she says, her voice softer. Slowly and surely we make our way up the forty flights of stairs, our feet echoing rhythmically in the cold concrete stairwell. She doesn't say a word the entire way up. She just wraps her arm in mine and gingerly escorts me back up to the privacy of our suite, our feet in step with one another. The door I knocked over stands against the wall in the hallway, but she doesn't mention it. We head into my room and she closes the door tightly behind her as I collapse into bed.

She studies me, neither of us speaking until the silence is too great and I'm filled with the overwhelming sensation just to tell her everything. I was so sure that she'd be able to understand, and I wouldn't have to do it all alone.

But my life is ruled by all the things I cannot say. So instead we just sit in companionable silence, neither of us daring to speak. This goes on for hours, the hot afternoon sun slowly turning to dusk and then falling into evening, both of us just sitting until the silence is interrupted by a knock on the door inviting us to dinner.

At the dinner table everything is laid out beautifully. A glistening turkey sits on a bed of fresh vegetables, a bowl of creamy mashed potatoes and rich gravy lies off to the side next to a bowl of plump, green asparagus. We dine on heavy ceramic plates with ornate silverware, and we drink out of Waterford crystal gauntlets filled with sparkling water.

I sit, aware that there is conversation around me, but not quite listening nor partaking in said conversation. I just sit, in a world of my own methodically pushing food into my mouth.

"I can't believe they would attempt to kidnap a future vice president's daughter! And a future president's son. Did you see how many secret service were around? The audacity!" Bellowed Abigail's dad.

"Well," said her mother "If you ask me, don't you think it was strange that they were on the roof in the first place? If I'm going to be honest with you, I blame the daughter's friend. What was her name? Camille, I think it was. She goes to the Gallagher Academy, which is a school for ah... problems."

"Ahh. You mean Cammie. Yes, it was mighty irresponsible for them to let one of those trouble-making girls out today with Ms. McHenry. You're absolutely right darling."

Abigail looks over at me and grabs my leg, looking pointedly at my hand. I'm clutching one of the fancy silver knives so tight that my knuckles were turning white. I dropped it, afraid of what I might do. It makes a clang as it falls against my plate.

"Zach, honey, what's wrong?" asks Abigail's mother.

"I- I'm not feeling well." I say

"Oh dear. Well, why don't you go run along to your room and I'll send for some medicine. Are you feeling nauseous or...?"

I shake my head. "No thank you, m'am. That won't be necessary. I'll just go and lie down." I rush from the table back to my room.

A few minutes later I hear a soft knock at my door as it slowly opens. Abigail comes back in and sits next to me. She takes my hand in hers, but it wasn't romantic. It was just the gesture of a good friend and I welcomed it. When Abigail finally speaks, it's a whisper.