Christyne's "The Teens" Fan Fiction Site
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Chapter 9 - Like water, like breath
Her friends stood stunned, as Chloe ran out of the solarium in tears. Belle turned to follow, but Chloe had already been swallowed by the crowd. "I don’t think she wants to talk with anyone right now, Belle," said Shawn with a supportive hand on her shoulder. "God, what happened?" asked Mimi. Everyone turned to Brady, who was still slouched on the bench. His eyes drooped from the effects of the liquor. So, he rubbed a hand over his face, while his sluggish brain struggled to process and organize everything that happened tonight. Finally, he sighed. "Maybe I should let her explain it, when she’s up to it," said Brady, referring to Chloe. "Since she was sober." "Hey, guys," called out an approaching Jason, who’d had his fair share of alcohol. "What’s up?" His friends looked at each other and then him. "We’re not exactly sure, but I think we’re gonna call it a night," replied Shawn. Jason shrugged and nodded with a somewhat inebriated contentment with the world. "You leaving, too, Meems?" She blinked. "Uh, yeah. I’ve had enough excitement for one night." "Cool, I’ll leave with you," said Jason with a slight grin. Mimi managed a shrug and decided Jason was obviously tipsy. Shawn and Belle exchanged bewildered looks. "Well, I guess, I should call it night, too, then," sighed Brady. Belle walked over to help him up. "Come on, big brother. Tonight was one mixed-up night." ***** Chloe sighed in relief, as the cab reached her house. After she paid the driver, she hurried inside. She quietly closed her bedroom door and hoped that she’d be left alone. Her coat was haphazardly slung over a chair and shoes and socks yanked off to be left in a trail to her bed. She still wore her bikini under her clothes, but she didn’t care. She fell facedown on her blanket, wishing once again to just disappear. Why did it have to turn out this way? The plops against the shingles announced that falling snow had become freezing rain. With the house so quiet, the rain was almost deafening. Chloe pulled a heavy pillow over her head to block the sound out. Then, she restlessly rose to flip through her CDs. Her music, that’s what she needed. An aria? A pop song? Agonizing R&B? Achy jazz? Her mind was in such a jumble that the labels didn’t make sense. Frustrated, she turned away from her music. His face. God, his face, when he caught her with someone else. She walked to her window and fingered the teeny pebble-sized cracks. Oh, Philip. Chloe remembered one amazing night, when he’d appeared below her window with a guitar, an irresistible sheepish grin, and a wide-eyed serenade. But for her mother, it was still their little secret. Who could imagine Philip Kiriakis, the macho jock born with countless silver spoons, strumming a whimsical song about his dream girl? And that night, she felt like his dream girl. She, an awkward orphan, who was anything but popular and self-confident, was swept away in that beautiful fantasy. Since the dance, the kiss, and that night, her times with Philip were pockets of blissful fantasy. And look at how she’d treated it. Oh, how she wished she could take back these past two days. How she wished a dimpled Philip was standing beneath her window. A movement from the front gate caught her eye. In the rain and dark, the figure was hard to make out. Then, he looked up, and in a flash, Chloe ran downstairs to the front door. Relieved beyond belief, she rushed out onto her porch to see him, drenched and shivering in the middle of the walkway. "Philip, thank God," exclaimed Chloe, but stopped short, when she saw his stricken face. That same sorrowful face. "Philip," she began, realizing now that he’d left the party on foot and trekked in the downpour, "Please, come out of the rain." She held out her hand, beckoning him to take it. But his eyes never left her face, as if struck by confusion. "Philip, please," she called out, frantic that he’d make himself ill. She could see her breath as she spoke and knew the rain would freeze on impact. He spoke so softly at first that she could barely hear him. "I thought you were different," he said with accusation. Her hand slowly lowered to hug herself. She shivered in shameful silence. "Everyone kept telling me, ‘Don’t hurt her. You better not hurt her,’ they said, ‘She’s been through too much already.’" He blinked against the stinging rain. "They told me that I’ve got to be sensitive to your needs." Her eyes welled with tears. "Please, Philip." "Well, joke’s on me, isn’t it?" He looked up to the sky, as if to laugh. "Who’d have thought poor innocent Chloe would turn around and hurt me?" Her heart ached for him. "I’m so sorry, Philip. I—" "You know," he coldly said, "My brother’s right. We think women are so delicate and that we need to protect them, but in the end they fuck you over, no matter what we do." "Philip—" "There I was, feeling like crap, because I’d accused my girl of having the hots for another guy. Then, I walk in on you and him making out. So, fine. I hope you and Brady are fucking happy together." With that, he ran out of the yard. The tears streaming freely now, Chloe walked devastated inside her house.
The foamy water rushed on the sand and ebbed. Their footsteps left fleeting imprints in the wet sand and washed up algae. The seagulls glided overhead, while the bright sun shone against a cloudless blue sky. His strong supporting arm held her bare waist, as they played with the incoming tides. She looked into his deep blue eyes and felt their warmth spread to her toes. Her fingers traveled up his smooth chest, as their lips met in a tender kiss. Then, his arm slid from her waist, and he waded until he was waist-deep into the water. With an easy smile, he waved for her to join him. She took a step into the water and jumped back from the sudden chill. He beckoned her once more, now with both arms outstretched. Gathering her courage, she warily walked several steps into the water. But then, the growing tide pushed her back to dry land. She looked with longing to Philip, who called for her, as the current picked him up and carried him farther and farther away.
Chloe woke to the ringing telephone the next morning. Squinting against the intruding light, she pulled the blanket over her head. "Chloe!" called her mother from downstairs, "Belle’s on the phone for you!" She pulled the covers tighter against her. Maybe Nancy will think she’s still sleeping. An impatient knock at her door signaled that she had no such luck. "Chloe, it’s almost noon, so you had better answer this phone." Chloe groaned and grudgingly reached out of her covers for the bedside phone. "Chloe? It’s Belle." "Yes, I know. By now, the entire neighborhood knows," huffed Chloe. "Um, were you sleeping before?" asked a cautious Belle. "Yeah, but that certainly made little impression on my mother." "I’m sorry. I just wanted to make sure you were ok… you know, after last night." Chloe sighed. "I’d hoped it was just a bad dream." When this comment was met with silence, she sighed again. "Yes, I’m fine. I assume that Brady already filled everyone in on what happened." "Actually, no. He basically said that he had a little too much to drink and that you could explain it better." "Really?" asked Chloe with some surprise. "Well, I don’t know, if I’d do any better, after…" She looked at the Last Blast photo of her and Philip. "Chloe?" She turned away from the picture and plucked at her blanket. "I don’t feel like talking about it right now…" Belle sighed. "I figured, it was pretty serious. Have you talked to him yet?" Chloe’s eyes flitted to the photo again. "He came by last night." Remembering, her eyes filled. "Listen, I can’t talk about it right now." Sensing she’d pushed as far as she safely could, Belle relented. "Ok. Remember, I’m here for you, ok, Chloe?" "Thanks," said Chloe. "Ok, talk to you later." Chloe set down the phone. She turned toward the sunlight cascading through her windows. Tomorrow comes, no matter the course of yesterday. If anyone knew this painful fact of life, it was Chloe. Yesterday, she was Philip’s beloved. Today, she wasn’t. She closed her stinging eyes a moment. Gathering her resources, she pulled herself out of bed. She indulged in a long hot shower and took her time drying and brushing her hair. "Chloe!" called her mother from downstairs, "Come down for brunch!" Chloe sighed. She looked over to her window, where every romantic wish came to life. Life goes on and in an excruciating manner. She gradually pulled on her clothes, while her mother continued to yell for her. The knock on her door was the final straw. "Ok, mother!" She yanked open the door to find Mimi standing there. More than a little surprised, given that Mimi had never knocked – broken in, yes, but never knocked – on her door the entire summer and fall that she had lived with the Wesleys, Chloe stood speechless. Obviously uncomfortable, Mimi resisted shifting on her feet. Finally, Chloe spoke up. "Yes, was there something you wanted?" "Um, well, I just wanted to drop by…" Chloe’s forehead wrinkled in puzzlement. "Ok… if my mother sent you to hurry me along, just tell her to chill." "Your mom didn’t send me." Mimi sighed. "Look, Chloe, my family’s moving into the new house in a week or so and we’ve managed to not kill each other up to this point." Chloe’s eyes widened in further confusion. "Ok…" "What I’m saying is… Look, are you ok? I mean, after last night?" asked Mimi. "Oh, I get it. Belle sent you." "No. I just saw how upset you were last night and I just wanted to see… forget it." Mimi turned to walk to her own room. "Mimi, wait." She paused in mid-stride and turned around. "I’m alright. Kind of depressed… ok, really depressed, but I’m alright." "Did you and Phil have a fight last night?" ventured Mimi. Chloe sighed. "Ok, you don’t have to tell me," said Mimi, turning around again. "Philip and I aren’t doing so well. Actually, I think we’ve broken up," Chloe sadly admitted. "What?! You’re kidding. What happened?" asked Mimi a little too excitedly. "Gee, Meems, thanks for the sympathy," said Chloe dryly. Mimi drooped her repentant head a bit. "I’m sorry. I have a habit of getting excited for gossip. I mean, not that I’d blab it to everyone or anyone." Nonetheless, Chloe made sure to choose her words carefully, despite Mimi’s assurances. "Let’s just say I wish that things didn’t turn out the way they did." "Does that mean you want to get back together with him?" Chloe blinked at the question. "I don’t know. I mean, Philip is—was," corrected Chloe, as she closed her eyes, "my first boyfriend. I’m not really sure, where to go from here and what I should be feeling." Mimi seemed to pause a moment and think about what Chloe had said. "Well, I don’t think we ever get used to breaking up, like from a serious relationship. I do know that whatever you decide – like if you want him back – let him know how you feel and what happened, like pronto. Because I’ve got the feeling that what happened between you and Philip was really messy. And the more time you take, the harder that mess is going to be to clean up." ***** A couple hours later, Chloe sat with her feet dangled over the dock. She thought about what Mimi had said. For someone, Chloe once ascertained, who had the IQ of a squid, Mimi made a lot of sense. And if Chloe and Mimi could share such an intimate conversation without blood spilled, then anything was possible. After Mimi and her remained relatively friendly over brunch, Chloe left her perplexed family for a long, intense walk to the pier. She’d tried locking herself in her room and playing music, but for the first terrifying time, she couldn’t find solace, no matter what music she chose. Thus, she hoped that the water would inspire her. So, she watched the water lap back and forth against the dock. Even in the bright, wintry afternoon, the water was murky and mysterious. A seagull cried out overhead, reminding Chloe of her dream. It seemed that she was plagued with dreams lately. With Philip’s tortured face etched in her mind, she decided that harsh reality was a thousand times more tragic than any nightmare. Clearing her thoughts, she closed her eyes and waited for the song to come. She waited for the music to synthesize and purge the feelings swirling inside her. But she heard nothing. She felt chillingly empty. Now, her torment was complete. Heavy footsteps approached from the upper deck, but she knew who it wouldn’t be and sighed. "I thought I might find you here, Signorina." Chloe continued to look out to sea, as she dryly replied, "Hello, Brady." "I guess, you and Phil haven’t patched things up." "Very perceptive." "Listen, about last night…" "Yes?" "Well, I’m sorry for the way everything turned out." "You mean, kissing me?" asked Chloe, while still watching the gulls swoop down for their supper. "Actually, that was sort of nice." With that, Chloe turned with her eyebrows furrowed. Brady explained, "Look, I was feeling pretty down about myself and trying to treat it with some liquor. And there you were, talking to me and making me laugh and it felt good. And then, I kissed you. I guess, because I didn’t want to stop feeling good." Chloe seemed to ponder this statement. "Well, I guess, it made me feel good to make you feel better… I didn’t think I’d meet anyone as sad as I was, until you." "Gee, thanks," he retorted wryly. Chloe shrugged. "It always seemed, as if everyone wanted to take care of me, because of ‘everything I’d been through.’ It was a nice change to help someone else." "Ok, I think I could stomach some of that. So, you think that was it?" Chloe’s eyes narrowed in suspicion behind her glasses. "What do you mean?" "Belle’s been telling me that you and Phil have been going through some rough times, like him ripping into you about other guys the other day." "I didn’t know that Belle liked to spread gossip." Chloe crossed her arms over her chest and clenched her jaw. "Hey, my little sister’s worried about you, ok? She just told me, because she figured you and I were friends now, since she saw us talking at the mall and at the party. Don’t get your panties in a bunch, because she’s trying to help you." Chloe sighed. "I know. Belle was the first and only person that was nice to me, when I got to Salem." "Sounds just like little Miss Perfect to me," mumbled Brady. "So, you and Phil’ve been fighting." Chloe relented, "Yes, you could say that." "Well, I may have been on my way to drunk, but I didn’t notice you pulling back, when I kissed you. I, at least, expected a slap out of it, but that didn’t happen." Growing in profound irritation, Chloe rose to face him. "What are you implying? That I liked you kissing me?" "Maybe. Or maybe you were trying to get back at Phil for humiliating you. Or maybe a little of both," postulated Brady. "This is crazy." She turned to walk away from him. "Running again? We both know all about that, don’t we?" he challenged. She faced with her hands fisted at her sides. "Look, you know nothing about me, ok? How dare you presume to know anything about me?" "We’re your typical dysfunctional American kids, remember? Plus, you’re my sister’s best friend and my uncle’s girlfriend." Brady grinned, "With us kissing last night, it makes for a great soap opera storyline, doesn’t it?" Chloe threw up her hands in frustration. Brady continued, "I think, we both understand each other a little more than either of us would like." He paused to let that statement sink in. "So, let’s test my theory out." "What the hell are you talking about now?" "I’ll kiss you again, and we’ll see, if you like it." He ignored her growl of outrage. "If you don’t feel anything, then probably my second theory is true." "You’re insane, you know that?" When she tried to walk away, he took hold of her arm. "You know that slap you mentioned before—" "You know you’re curious, especially now that I’ve made you think about it." She scoffed and fixed her gaze on a nearby pole. "What, Signorina? You scared I’m right?" Annoyed beyond description, she grabbed his face and pulled his lips onto hers. As the anger drained, she realized that she felt… Nothing. Her mind didn’t numb. Her heart didn’t trip. Her insides didn’t heat and writhe. She wasn’t feeling dizzyingly desired, cherished, or safe. She wasn’t kissing Philip. With that realization, she pulled back and sadly looked up at Brady. "Philip’s the one, isn’t he?" She nodded, miserable. Brady sighed. He knew that he’d begun to develop feelings for her after last night. He sighed again. Life continued to suck. But it was better that this all come out now rather than later, when things got really messy. So, he took some lessons from Belle and gave. "Then, I think, you should go tell him." Chloe almost rolled her teary eyes in self-derision. "How can I? After everything that’s happened?" "How can you not? After everything that’s happened?" he replied. "You and I both know how sad and unfair life can be. How can you sit there and not do something about it? Phil’s a cool guy, and believe me, when I say, the dude is head over heels for you." She covered her mouth to hold back the sob. "After he sang to you that night, it’s been Chloe this and Chloe that. It was kinda pathetic actually—" "Wait. He told you about singing to me?" She gripped his arm like a vise. "Uh, yeah. I bumped into him one night at the basketball courts and he said that he’d bust, if he didn’t tell someone about this amazing opera girl and singing to her." Her knees weak, she sat awkwardly on a crater. "It was our little secret. Ever since then, I’ve never doubted how he felt about me. Even with the dreams and that stupid scene at school that day. He made sure I always knew how much he cared about me." Not entirely sure what she was babbling about, Brady slung a brotherly arm around her shoulders. "Then, you know what you want. Not many of us have that luxury." She turned and hugged him. "Thanks. I’d like it, if you’d be my friend." Brady resisted a sigh. "Sure. But maybe we should just take a break, until you and Phil straighten everything out." Chloe nodded in agreement. They each needed to earn back Philip’s trust first. Brady pulled back from the hug. "So, how about one last song, Signorina?" She smiled, as he sat down on an adjacent crater. She closed her eyes and sang "Memory" from "Cats." Because indeed, a new day had begun.
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