Chapter 7Allara stood in the unwelcoming bedroom, desperately rethinking her situation. She impatiently played with the worn clasp on her watch, scratched and faded from the nervous habit. Her feet barely came off of the floor as she paced around the bed. Through it all, one question remained prominent.
How did I get here?
The mere absurdity of the situation was enough to throw her into a fit of hysterical laughter, but the weighing seriousness of it kept her from doing so. Somehow she had managed to land herself with an all-expense paid week-long stay with the illustrious Mr. Bloom. But wait, there’s more! It’s a non-refundable, non-exchangeable, non-returnable package, which means that this will be one of the longest, most fun-filled weeks of her life!! The frustration overwhelmed her and she threw herself upon the bed, spread-eagle. All other thought processes stopped, except for that one persistent question.
How did I get here?
~*~
While Allara was pondering the question of her presence, Orlando was holding a hushed conversation in the living room. He was whispering fiercely into the cordless phone that had previously been hidden from view by the numerous boxes.
“Christ! Can you just leave me alone about it? It’s only one week!” On the other end of the conversation was Elijah. Having no one else in the house with him, he did not take the care Orlando did to muffle his cries of indignation.
“Only one week? ONLY one week?! Do you know what only one week can do to you? One week can paste your face on the cover of EVERY tabloid in America! Not to mention the ones in the UK! I can see it now: ‘LOTR Hottie Orlando Bloom Found Guilty Of Kidnapping Young Woman.’ Even if they’re not true, do you know what those things can do to your career? I mean—“ Click. Sighing heavily, Orlando dropped the phone on the new couch, quickly plopping down next to it. The need for beanbags suddenly became much more immediate. Quickly removing himself from the atrocity of black and gray, he made his way to the bedroom. Halting in front of the door, he tried to focus every ounce of concentration he had on being silent so he could hear the sounds coming from within the room. That which fell upon his ears was the calm resonating of a tune, soft and lulling. It was perhaps a song he had heard before but did not remember well, being sung in a soft, tremoring alto. He listened to the words, trying to place the song within his memory bank.
‘I wish I drank tequila,
I wish I stayed up late,
But lately when the sandman comes,
Oh you know that I can’t wait,
Oh no I can’t wait.’
Yes, he knew the song. He could assign it neither a name nor an artist, but he knew he had heard it before. Slowly, as not to disturb the contemplative woman, he positioned himself so that he could see through the small opening between the door and frame. Would this girl ever cease to surprise him? She still lay prone on the bed, arms and legs spread to the far corners, eyes closed. Again, she started singing, completely unaware that she was being observed. Orlando forgot about the words as he watched the scene unfold before his eyes. A single forgotten tear rolled down the ivory skin, unbidden and unwanted. All of a sudden, guilt washed over him. Sensing that this was not meant for anyone’s viewing, and that it was a sacred moment, he felt that he was trespassing upon holy moments. The shame overcame him and he moved carefully from the door, as silently as he came. He backed into the living room and again started down the hallway, this time letting his feet fall heavily and whistling a nameless jingle. By the time he had pushed the door gently open, Allara was sitting on the edge of the bed, fully composed with no hint of previous emotions across her porcelain face.
“Hey.”
“Hey.” Neither moved, and neither looked directly into the other’s eyes. The silence that could have been no more than ten seconds stretched on until the end of time. Mountain ranges were formed, continents broke apart and another Ice age passed before Orlando spoke.
“Listen, I have to go out and get some things today. You can either come with, or stay here and unpack.”
My god, why am I so nervous when I talk to her? There’s absolutely no reason for it…
His thought process was broken by spoken words of ice.
“I don’t want to go with you, but I won’t be unpacking either. There’s no need to make myself comfortable.” Whilst speaking, she had lifted herself from the bed and now breezed past the frustrated man. For a moment, Orlando stood in the doorway, shaking his head in disbelief. Finally, he regained mobility of his limbs and went to the living room where he was just in time to watch Allara lay down on the couch, realized its comfort level and roll ungracefully off the side onto the immensely hard floor. After hearing a muffled “Fuck!” from the prone figure lying face down on the floor, he could hold it in no longer. Laughter swept past his tongue and erupted forth from his mouth, filling the room with his merriment. Allara jumped form her awkward position on the floor and steadily glared at him until his flow of laughter had been dammed.
“Do you think this is funny?” Her tone was threatening, but she knew that it probably had been hysterical from his point of view and therefore she could do nothing to bitch herself out of it. Once again, his mirth exploded.
“I’m sorry, but you should have seen yourself. That was hilarious!” He had to stop there because he could no longer manage to get words through his laughter. After about three minutes of hysteria, he was able to control himself to the point of speech. “Right then, I’m…uh, I’m gonna go now, you…do whatever it is that you do. And uh, well…I dunno, we’ll figure out something to eat and do when I get back. Good enough?”
She stood in front of him, still indignant, but at an impass. “Fine. I guess I’ll just stick around here for a while…until you get back.” An awkward silence followed this line, and they both stared uncomfortably at the floor whilst trying to think of something intelligent or semi-meaningful to the other.
“Well ok then.” With that neither intelligent nor semi-meaningful statement, Orlando was out the door and Allara was left to her own devices. She played idly with her hair, still standing in the middle of the living room. It wasn’t until she looked around for something to do that she realized Orlando didn’t even have a TV yet.
~*~
The day passed uneventfully for Allara, nothing that required extensive thought or in-depth analysis, mostly busy work that she set herself out to do. She was quite happy with her work and finally sat down on the couch to relax. Mistake. She moved gently to the floor and took a quick glance at her watch. Surprisingly enough it was already a quarter after six, and still no sign of Orlando, not even a call. Then again, did he even know his own phone number yet? With a sigh of boredom, she moved into the bedroom where she had left all of her possessions. Rummaging through her bags, she found what it was that she was looking for. The much-abused copy of The Hitchhiker’s Guide to The Galaxy weighed heavy in her hand. Plopping down on her stomach on the newly-made bed, she let the book fall open and just began reading. When one has read a book as many times as she had read that one, this action becomes understandable. Soon, she was again engrossed in the travels of poor Arthur, and she didn’t hear the front door opening.
Orlando walked up to the apartment, wondering if he should ask for Allara’s help with unloading Elijah’s jeep or just leave her alone. He struggled with unlocking the door as he was focused on keeping the boxes of Chinese take-out with two styrofoam cups on them in his left hand steady and upright. Finally, the lock clicked and the door swung open in front of him to reveal a very surprising scene. A pile of empty boxes was jumbled in one corner of the living room, which actually looked like an inhabited living room now. He moved incredulously into the kitchen where he found all of his appliances set up and the plates in the cabinets. Setting the food down on the corner, he moved through the living room towards the rear of the apartment. Passing his bedroom door, he flipped on the light in the bathroom to still find boxes marked “Bathroom” in the middle of the small room. A little confused, he went back to the bedroom, where he assumed Allara was. He gave a quick rap on the door before entering, unbidden.
“Allara, did you do all of this?” Startled as she was by the unexpected and brusque entry, she regained her composure quickly and replied in an unreadable but seemingly amicable tone.
“Yeah. I didn’t know how long you were going to be gone for, and you don’t have a television yet. I didn’t know if you had a radio or not, so I just decided to make myself useful. I didn’t unpack anything that goes in the bathroom except towels, and nothing that goes in the bedroom; I figured you might want to do that. And I know that it’s sort of weird for me to unpack for you, just because I don’t know you all that well, but I put everything in its logical place, and if you don’t like it, I can help you move anything to where you’d prefer it to be.” He propped his right arm up on the doorjamb and she moved herself gently from the bed to replace the book in her bag before looking up at him with questioning eyes.
“No, no, everything’s fine. Well, I mean, I haven’t looked at any of it, but thank you. Really…that was…uh…nice. I was dreading having to do it for myself. You saved me a lot of time and frustration, even if I do move everything you took out. So again, thanks.”
What is she on about? Last night she was Little Miss Don’t Fuck With Me and today she’s unpacking for me and making my house all cozy just because she got bored?! Honestly…she’s a different person every time I talk to her.
Not privy to his personal thoughts, Allara shrugged off his thanks. “It was nothing, really, more of a diversion for myself than anything else, you know?” Her stomach growled softly and she gave another quick glance at her watch. “It’s almost seven o clock, do you have anything to eat?” With a start, Orlando remembered that she probably hadn’t eaten anything all day and his thoughts turned to the Chinese food now sitting on his kitchen counter.
“Oh I’m so sorry, yeah, yeah, there’s some Chinese food in the kitchen. I didn’t know what you liked, so I got a bit of everything. I have some stuff outside in the jeep, and then I have to drive it back to Elijah’s place, so you can go ahead and help yourself. I’ll probably be done in an hour or so.” He started out the door and out of nowhere, she had ducked under his arm and was standing in front of him.
“I can help.” So with that, the two of them moved through the apartment to the door, not talking. But this silence was a different kind than the previous ones they had experienced together. This was not awkward, or tense. It was more harmonious than anything. In the good-natured silence, they unloaded the jeep together, extracting a television, stereo, DVD/VHS player, several kitchen items, some general groceries and two large bean bags which he had somehow managed to stuff in the rear seats. Allara brought in the groceries and kitchen appliances and went back to grab the bean bags, one at a time, while Orlando got all of the heavier stuff. The silence continued as she put cans of soup in the pantry, fruit on the counter and a loaf of bread in the breadbox. It stretched on as Orlando hooked up all of the new electronic toys. Finally, they were both done and plopped down simultaneously on the comfortable bean bags. A sigh went up from both of them and it looked like the genial silence would continue, until Allara’s stomach gave a more resounding growl and they both hopped up to demolish the tantalizing food still in its resting spot on the kitchen counter.
