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Chapter Seven: Fire and Rain

I've seen fire and I've seen rain. I've seen sunny days that I thought would never end. I've seen lonely times when I could not find a friend... James Taylor


God, I need aspirin. Please, something be here... I said and thought quietly to myself. Not that I hadn't expected it. All of the same stinging and aching was prevalent three days removed from the incident. Yeah, she was right though. I wouldn't be seeing George for a long time. Shit, not like this. The entire left side of my face burned and was swollen all to hell. Pure silver droplets intermingled with the dried blood from my once profusely bleeding nose. But I wasn't crying from the pain; I was crying because the way I looked. One glimpse in the mirror was enough to set me off again. A quivering hand grappled with the glass bottle and unscrewed the cap. Two capsules fell into my palm and were swallowed with a gulp of water from the tap. Bringing a finger to the side of my face, a feather touch awakened the bruise. "Damn it!"

Leaning forward and holding myself on both sides of the sink, I sunk my head and positively broke down emotionally. Dad, who still didn't know about my condition since I'd been locked away alone, knocked quietly. He'd only talked to me through closed doors lately and it must have started to worry him.

"Ella, are you sure that nothing is wrong, honey?"

After drawing a labored and very unstable breath, I replied, "Yes, Da, I'm... fine." Yeah, just bloody peachy.

Without warning, the knob turned and I gasped. Stupidly enough, I moved to an angle that made my affliction all the more obvious.

Father simply stood there, mouth agape, door still ajar behind him. At first, for what seemed an eon, Dad only stared, looking fearful and confused, like I was a freak in the circus sideshow. Absolutely rooted to the tile he was, until slowly, he came towards me and outstretched his arm to softly brush my cheek. With this touch, the sharp sting returned along with the dull roar from the subcutaneous damage. I shuddered and shied away while Dad shook his head and heavily took in air through his nose.

"Natalie, how on Earth did this happen?" he inquired, under his breath. I wasn't sure if he was actually asking me or if that was just a statement of disbelief.

"Well, Da, to b-be perfectly honest," Think, Ella! "I d- I- I don't know. I was unconscious," I lied quickly.

"And where did you come to?"

Ooh, I could see where he was leading. Because of his suspicion, I had to be sure that it was someplace that couldn't be connected with George.

"In my bedroom."

"Oh God, if this has anything to do with that scruff, I swear, I'll come after him with a meat cleaver." No! I screamed mentally. Until then, Dad had complete respect for George, however distant it was. This pushed him over the edge, and through human nature, the finger had to be pointed somewhere.

"Do you remember being with George before it happened, dear?" he further inquired, voice beginning to sweeten and honey up. He was trying to coax out of me what he wanted to hear, but it was like trying to smash a square peg through a round hole. It couldn't be done simply because it wasn't the truth. Technically, I had every right and privilege to rat on Mum, but my life would only further digress into a living hell. But coming back to his question, I realized how idiotic it was. Who in their right mind would want to favor the situation to their parent? It was a bit obvious that I would protect my boyfriend at all costs, but why didn't Da see that?

"No, I don't at all."

"You don't recall anything at all? No certain person or place?"

"No! Dad, I really don't!"

Unanticipatedly, he roughly took hold of my wrist and dragged me through the upstairs while he sought Mum.

"Samantha! Where are you? We have a problem here with Ella."

"Down here, Brian," she called from the kitchen. It seemed that as of late she lived in there. Except at night which is when I would go scrounge around for food. Cringing at the sound of her voice, I wondered what kind of deep shit she was in and how she would dig her way out. Get ready to act, woman... I thought scornfully. As if I couldn't guide myself, Father pulled me like a dog on a lead to the aforementioned room.

"Take a look at this, Sam," he announced, turning me in Mum's direction. I glared at her with all the loathing and disparagement I could muster. Her eyes burned into mine as to say, "If you mess this up, child, you won't ever see the light of day again."

The faÇade that was presented after this was downright disturbing. She dramatically dropped the glass she was toweling dry and ran to my side.

"Natalie Ellen Riley! What happened?!?!" Her motherly soft and gentle hands examined the offending wound, pushing my hair away.

"I'll tell you what's happened. I think our daughter has been either beaten or raped by that George fellow. She doesn't remember anything before the episode."

If Mum took the award for best actress then I think I should have received Best Supporting Role. She pretended to go stone cold and fearful at the mention of my being molested. I remained silent.

"I knew it was going to happen again... God, I knew it..." she hissed with what was almost genuine conviction and odium.

"What do we do now?" Dad asked sounding almost helpless.

"I'll take care of it."

Those were not the words that I wanted to hear, especially since they came while my father slowly trudged out of the room

---***---

"Ella, we need to talk woman to woman here."

She shut the door to the my art room, but since the show for Dad was over, she was visibly shaken. I was reveling in the strange emotions that both she and I were displaying and experiencing.

"Christ, what more do you want from me?! I kept quiet for you and I put up with the pain from your goddamn abuse! I'm your daughter, not your scapegoat! And another thing," I continued, seeing that she was near interrupting me, "I have the right to do what I please. What does it matter to you who I associate with? I am me and you are God-fucking not, so just leave me alone!" The monologue lifted all of the pressure off my chest, but only made the air thicker, more uncomfortable and hostile, if that was possible.

"Let me tell you something," she began, in a low, throaty tone, "I will let you off on the count that you do have an argument in the slightest here, but I do not want to be spoken to like that! I'd rather that you start being your own person, as you say you are very well capable of. I doubt it, but as of this moment, I no longer can support you as I used to. I am only your mother and am to be treated as such. Take that as you will, and I'll leave you alone. Just stay out of my hair and I'll keep out of your life as best I know how. Your dirty bastard of a boyfriend can fuck off, fuck you or fuck himself for all I care. But I make it clear that what is said in this room is meant for only you and I, so if it leaks out, you know I will make your life more pathetic and miserable than you can imagine." Surprisingly enough, I stayed adamant and unresponsive to the deluge of expletives and the complete rudeness and spite of what she'd said. And on that final and disparaging note, she turned on her heel and stormed out of the quarters as swiftly, harshly, and forbiddingly as ever.

---***---

"Where's Mum?" I questioned after emerging from my bedroom for the first time in days.

Dad glanced up at me behind his wire-rimmed glasses. He'd been occupied with writing out a draft for a Child Care Authorization document. Grasping his mug by the handle, he delicately sipped the black coffee contained in it.

"She's visiting Alex. She didn't tell you?"

"No," I grumbled inwardly to myself, exasperated and upset with her shrewd tactic. I'd have to make it up to my little brother somehow.

"Can I use the phone for a bit this morning?"

"Yes, I suppose." Eying my black nightgown, he asked, "Why aren't you out of your nightclothes? It's practically noon."

"Too lazy, I suppose. And when is she coming back?"

"Nosy today, aren't you?" he sighed, scratching his forehead. "But I don't expect she'll be home anytime in the near future. Errands to run, luv. Why? Do you need her?"

"No, not at all," I insisted, "but can I have Anya come over to see something?"

"All right, but I'd say you're taking advantage of me if I didn't know better."

"Me?! Never!" I cajoled, tossing my disheveled locks in a self-aggrandizing way. "But ta, Daddy, I love you," I assured, kissing his temple.

The diet plan had been tossed out the window even before I reached my proper weight because I figured that simply eating properly would be enough. This meant that breakfast could be nothing more than a few crackers if I so pleased. Before trumping back upstairs, I rummaged for cheese and a glass of milk. On the counter, I caught a glimmer of an envelope. Making certain that Dad wasn't watching, I pulled it out from under the newspaper. It was postmarked almost 4 days ago and worse than that it was from Ariyan to me. How much lower could my mother stoop?! She was holding my letters as well! Making a faint noise of disgust, I tucked it under my arm. Then, with as much poise and coordination as I could gather with my hands and arms full, I made my way to my room, struggling to get the door opened. Depositing the majority of my load on the bed, I plopped down with it, taking the phone from the nightstand. Setting that next to me, I ripped furiously at the top of my envelope.

Ella,

Ireland is much less boring when there are things to do. But I'm still coming home in a few days. Whenever we can pull Dad away from all the beautiful things here. So far, we've paid a visit to Bunratty Castle, Dvblinia, Dyflin, the Castle Ward Estate, Ballymacormick Point, and about 300 other random locales. There's a new place every day, so we've seen so much. I'm having a party when we return for sure. I miss everyone dreadfully. I hope that I'm missed just as much. Are you and George well? You'd better be because I'd hate for it to be otherwise. I'm sure everyone is still green with envy over him. Including me. I still haven't bothered to write Julia, Jenny, Ally, or Lauren today. Don't bother replying back because we'll either be gone or back home.

Sincerely, your friend,

Ariyan Emeralis.

Brushing the cracker crumbs off the letter, I refolded it and replaced it in its container. Immediately following that, I pulled the phone off of the hook and called Anya. She readily agreed to visit, making my job all the more easy. Next was George. Since I was still too self-conscious to face him personally, I decided that it was only fair to explain to him.

For the first time ever, George actually picked up instead of his mum. But it didn't sound like he was particularly thrilled with the person on the other line.

"It's Ella, George."

"Oh, g'morning. It's too early," he groaned.

"It's nearly lunchtime!"

"Still too early."

"Don't you have something to do?"

"If I did, would I be sleeping?"

"No, but don't you have something, um..."

"A job?"

"Yeah," I admitted.

"Well, I used to, but I think the band is going to end up with something better," he replied cryptically. "Plus, I plan on dragging out the summer as much as possible. By the way, why haven't I seen you in so long?"

"It's been maybe 4 days, tops."

"That's a long time."

"You're so backwards, George. You don't think that noon is late, but you think 4 days is a long time."

"I did ask a question, ya know."

"Sorry, well, um, I've not been feeling well lately."

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing for you to worry about. I'm sure I'll be fine in," I delicately fingered the abrasion, "a week or so."

"No way! I can't wait a week to see you! What is so horribly off that you can sound normal but can't go out?!"

"Me mum," I muttered, not intending for him to hear me. "Cor, George, I'm fine, just don't worry. I'll see you when I see you, all right?"

"No, not all right, but if you're going to be that way..."

"What way am I being?!"

"You don't want to see me! You're avoiding me! It's bloody obvious too!"

"How do you think you can get off saying that?!" I laughed darkly. "You'll see. In a week, you'll see. I don't appreciate that either."

"I'm sorry, but you'd better have a damn solid reason for this."

"Oh, and I do I ever!"

"Because I have something important to tell you about, but I have to wait just for this."

"Okay, George," pausing for a moment, I continued, "I love you."

"Love you too," he mumbled.

There came the click of the phone hanging up. The flat out blunt flippancy seriously upset me. No time to think it over either with Anya coming over in a matter of very little time. Without a second consideration, I despondently headed for my room. Lacking poise and finesse, I lowered myself onto the bed and pulled my knees to my chin, sniffing back the sour and painful lump creeping its way up my esophagus.

Three quarters of an hour later, I swept like a raven down to answer the door.

"Gorgeous nightgown, luv."

My guest stood in front of me in a white blouse and wine colored knee-length skirt; a definite departure from my slatternly manner of dress at the moment.

"Morning to you too, Anya."

She draped herself over the arm of a loveseat in the living room while I closed the door and joined her. Somehow, I found it unbearably peculiar that she hadn't commented on my cheek. So, I brought the topic into the open.

"Why aren't you going to say anything?"

Snickering to herself, she replied, "I thought it would be rude. It's not obvious, really. It took me a while to notice it, actually."

"Ha ha, yeah right."

"Can I ask what happened?"

"No, I couldn't tell you the truth."

"Oh." Casually shrugging that off, she asked, "Does anyone else know?"

"Not really."

"Okay, um, how's Alex?"

"Changing the subject?" I laughed, "Alex is doing much better than before; I'll give him that. He won't be walking for a while, though."

"Mmm," she mumbled in acceptance. When Anya adjusted the watch on her wrist, it caught my eye with the glimpse of light that flashed off the silver.

"What's that, Anya?" I pointed at the jewelry.

"It's Paul's. I thought I looked silly wearing it, but he wanted me to."

"Ah, that's sweet." Then, I realized that George and I had nothing like that between us. What was there to keep us together? No, no, that was stupid. A material thing represented nothing. But it would be rather nice to have an object to represent our affection for each other. For a fleeting instant, I squeezed my eyes shut to keep in the tears that suddenly appeared.

"Yeah, since they were leaving so soon, he wanted me to have something."

WHAT?

"Who is leaving?" I snapped with a sudden qualm.

"Oh God, he didn't tell you yet..."

"What?"

"Just wait, George will tell you very soon, I'm sure of it. He wouldn't want me to ruin this for you. I'm sorry I even brought it up."

"This would explain what he wanted to talk about," I murmured nearly only to myself. "Ta, Anya. I need to ring him tonight then."

"I'm so sorry, Ella... I think I ruined it for him."

"Nah, don't worry about it."

"How about instead of calling him, you go to see him instead? That way he has no reason not to believe you."

"Anya, please," I disagreed shaking my head.

"No, really, he'll feel awfully for you and who knows? Maybe he'll do something sweet for you," she finished slyly.

"He's going to want to know what happened."

"Erm, tell him you fainted and hit the floor really hard."

"Wouldn't the rest of me be bruised also?"

"Stop being logical. He can't prove that!"

"Well, I do want to go see him, but I don't know."

"I do know, so c'mon. I'm going to doll you up properly."

Vaulting herself out of the chair, she beckoned me to follow.

---***---

"You really weren't kidding when you said you had no shoes!"

Still standing in only my nightgown, I watched Anya pick through my dresser and sort through my pathetic collection of footwear.

"No, no, no! These just won't do!" she exclaimed, kneeling over everything on the floor.

"You act like it's my fault!" I snorted.

Sighing heavily, she spread herself on the floor and looked up at me.

"I give up! But you will not be seen wearing those." Then she broke into a very rapidly tongued Scandinavian language, which I could only gawk at her for.

"Vad skulle han tänka om du? Du er skada och då på top om fakta åt du blick lik en a bit child. JAG ponera du kunde lånen något om mig sakerna, per dags dato. Seende så den där er din enda valen for tiden."

Literally screaming, I stopped her and made my protest. "What is it with people and surprises lately?! You speak, um, whatever that was? Since when?"

"Swedish! You don't know it when you hear it? Sorry about that. I can't say it was entirely unintentional. My aunt and grandmama speak nothing besides that. I've been fluent since I was a girl."

"Geez, the next thing I know, George will ring me talking in German. Why doesn't anyone tell me anything?"

"Don't worry, Ella, he'll tell you everything tonight, if you'll just let me do something with you."

"I'm afraid of the consequences," I laughed as she sat up and slapped my leg. "Kidding! Don't hurt me!"

"I'm not. You'll be a dead good totty when I finish with you," she stated, examining and analyzing my form.

"You're crackers. Me? Ha, I'm closer to jumping from the Eiffel Tower than I am to being a tart."

"It'd make George happy. He's going to need to remember you fondly when they leave. You don't want him thinking back on you as being a prudent little porcelain doll."

"That's my job, though! I'm not that kind of girl, and he respects that!"

"If that's what you think. But why not, even if it's just for a while."

"That's so superficial, Anya!"

"Well, don't come crying to me when the German blondes have him. That'll make George forget you in a heartbeat."

"German blondes? What is going on?"

But that was it exactly. In a heartbeat. That's how fast I was under the makeup brush and helping Anya select an outfit. When applying heavy doses of powder, concealer, eyeliner and lipstick, she was painstakingly cautious not to completely mask the scar. A little bit of batting my lashes and looking angelically pitiful was all it would take to inspire sympathy and adoration in George.

Dress after dress, skirt after skirt, all of them weren't quite right. Some of the things that I hadn't worn in a while were too large after my fasting period, and if it wasn't that, it was the fact that nothing I owned was "dirty" enough for Anya's liking. I smiled and giggled a lot during this transformation; it was a new experience to turn bad suddenly, and I was loving it. None of my earlier questions were answered. She just continued to tell me that I would find out soon enough. As we were coming up on 3 o'clock, Anya found the garment that gave her the "Eureka!" moment she was waiting for.

"It's a slip! There's nothing about that thing that qualifies it as clothing!" I protested as she shoved it at me. And that's just what it was: pink, short, tight and thin.

"Put this on under it. That makes it even better." Next I was tossed a tiny white top.

"This is getting ridiculous!"

"Ella, believe me, promiscuity is the most powerful female weapon. Lover Boy won't be able to take his eyes or his hands off you. You'll understand when you talk to him. Shoo! Get dressed and I'll do something else with your precious hair."

Inconspicuously stealing away to the loo, I stripped down and struggled into what I was given. What a joke. I'd better have been writing my will right then and there. If anyone, especially my parents, caught me in this getup, I'd have been mortified for life.

"Anya, I think this is a couple of feet too short, luv."

"C'mere and lemme see it then."

Looking to the heavens for strength, I gathered the rest of my clothes and headed back to my room.

"Wow, you're right. It's perfect," she analyzed, biting her lower lip in thought. "That settles it then."

"Uh, no! That settles nothing but the fact that I look like a freak!"

---***---

"I can't believe I was talked into this," I muttered to myself, jamming my fists deep into my coat pockets.

Yanking the heavy front door, Anya made sure it was closed and followed me into the brisk evening air. I couldn't seem to make my feet want to work since I was donning Anya's shoes, which must have given me an extra 3 inches height. With an annoyed sigh, Anya rushed to my side and corrected my posture.

"You have to walk like you think you're a goddess!"

"What if I think I'm a lowly serf? Then what?"

"Do you want my help or not? If you do, quit with the attitude! I worked my arse off to make you an Anita Ekbert incarnate, and you had better start acting like it."

"All right, I got it. But if anyone but George sees me in this, I reserve the right to run."

"I'll give you that if it makes you happy."

"It does very much. Ta."

It wasn't a long walk to Upton Green and when we were within sight of his house, Anya gave her final plea and advice and nudged me in the right direction. Thinking was a thick and painful process for me at the moment as I coached myself for what I had to do. As long as I remember to breathe, look pretty and be cute, I'll be fine... Coming to the doorstep, I knocked and suddenly felt like I was no longer a part of my body. Almost like someone else had taken control. I was completely numb and powerless over what I was doing. Apparently, George was there alone. His hair was wet; I could tell that he had just been bathed. At first he looked stunned, then he pulled me inside. Pushing my head to the side, he immediately analyzed the affliction and pulled away my hands every time I tried to cover it. But I was a lifeless ragdoll; nothing he said seemed to spark a response in me. What the fuck happened? Are you all right? Oh my God, Ella, you poor girl. I'm so sorry for everything I said to you. If I ever knew half of this... Damn it, I'm sorry... It seemed to go on forever; just a downpour of apologies, love and embarrassment. For two hours, I was there with George, and it only took 20 minutes for me to start crying. Everything just flowed out, everything, and he listened and comforted when possible. Never did he get angry, which confused me, but it was for the better, I suppose.

"This didn't work how I planned it," I said, sniffling.

"How was that?" he inquired softly, cuddling closer to me.

"I don't know," I lied, not wanting to put myself in the spotlight anymore than I already was. "It was Anya's idea. But she told me that you were leaving or something. Is that what you wanted to tell me before?"

"Aye, it was. We've got a long term obligation somewhere else."

"Where would that be exactly?"

"Hamburg."

"Germany?!?"

"Yeah, I knew you wouldn't be happy."

"How long have you known about this?"

"Longer than you would think. I knew I should'a told you sooner, but I didn't have the courage before."

"Well, thanks for thinking about my feelings then," I scoffed.

"I really am sorry, luv."

"I know. But for how long?"

"Four months maybe..."

"Fucking hell... You must be out of your tree; four months without you is like..."

"Four months without me. That's what it is; nothing more, nothing less."

"When am I losing you then?"

"You make it sound like I'm kicking the bucket, but in, erm," he swallowed and laughed sheepishly, "three days."

"You give me three bloody days to say goodbye to you for four months! Now that is what I call unfair treatment!"

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry!"

"George Harold Harrison, if I didn't love you so much, I would knee you in the groin right now. Could you possibly do anything else wrong?!?"

"No, prolly not. I still am sorry, though," he mumbled, leaning in to kiss me.

Ducking away and pushing him up by the chest, I made my point firm and crystal-clear. "You know I'm not going to let you kiss all this away. Doesn't work that easily. Make this up to me. And I mean it. You've got three days to do it, so I suggest you get started and get creative. I've got to go before I dig a deeper grave for myself at home." Planting a dry peck on his temple, I fingered a bit of his damp tresses, and led myself to the door.

"G'bye, George, luv."

Thus ended my day leaving me feeling like the alpha female of the year and leaving George confused, scared and intrigued. Especially ponderous over my sudden change in dress...


© KMW

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