Transcendence: A Request Prompt (5/5)

Connecticut
United States of America
November 2119
Jones, Elena

“You’re not being fair to him.”

Elena narrowed her brows. Her sister, Amelia Jones, had walked into her bedroom without a knock on the door. “What is it, Amelia?”

“The boy you met in New York,” the brunette other went on. Elena felt something stir in her stomach at the indirect mention of Ansel, who she had left in the big city while she travelled back to have Thanksgiving with the Jones clan. “Arnold? Anthony?”

“Ansel.”

“Right. Well, you’re not exactly being the fairest girlfriend in the world to him, El.” Elena clenched her fist, trying to ignore her taller older sister. Her grip on the colored pencil tightened. “All he did was try to get you to open up more to him, and then you just…shut him out. Based on what you ranted to me when you got here, at least.”

“I did not shut him out,” Elena insisted. “It’s him – he’s shutting me out!”

Amelia pinched her temples in frustration. “Fine. Let’s say he’s shutting you out. So you retaliate by shutting the poor guy out, too? Christ, Elena. It’s like him all over again–”

“Don’t you dare mention that cretin,” the girl threatened. Amelia lifted her arms slowly. “So, fine. Yeah. I did push Ansel away even though we’re in a relationship. Can you blame me? The other asshole traumatized me,” she muttered, looking back at her sketchpad and adding a few more strokes to the drawing. Amelia stayed quiet for a moment, soon joining Elena on her bed. The pair remained quiet for a few minutes.

“He isn’t like your ex.”

“How are you so sure of that?”

Amelia snorted. “When you Skyped me a few months ago and told Ansel and myself to get to know each other. It was a little awkward at first. But you could tell he was interested. He literally got to know almost everything about me until he stopped and asked if I was okay with him. He didn’t even ask in an obnoxious way, he was just…he was a little hesitant and maybe even embarrassed. And then I saw that your soul mate was the right one for you, El.”

Elena remembered that Skype call.

“So whatever the fuck you two fought about, get over it. Apologize to him. He’ll be apologizing to you for days. He’ll be making it up to you until your apartment is covered in apologetic poetry and red flowers. If you don’t fix it up with him, I swear to God I’ll be the one to fix it myself,” she threatened; but Elena could feel that her irritation was more playful than actually irritated. “Christ’s sake, El…this is your soul mate. Please don’t fuck it up this early – or at all.”

“I won’t,” she promised. And it really did feel like a promise.

“Good.” Amelia rose from the bed and looked at her, “Come back down in an hour or something. The family’s coming for Thanksgiving, remember?”

“Yeah, I do. I just need to finish this,” the other replied, switching from black colored pencil to gold and brown. Amelia left and closed the door without another word, leaving Elena alone and mildly thankful for the ‘talk’.

Sighing, she flopped back onto the mattress and reached for under her pillow, grasping the phone in her hand. It had stopped vibrating three hours back; she guessed that Ansel had either run out of credit or was tired of texting her.

            You have four (4) new messages.
            You have two (5) missed calls.

            Ansel Free: Pick up. Please?

            Ansel Free: I was an ass. I’m sorry.

            Ansel Free: Enjoy Thanksgiving with your family, alright? Tell Amelia and the others I say hi and that I’ll do my best to attend with you next year.

            Ansel Free: I love you, El. Shoot me a text if you feel like it.

 A brief image popped up in Elena’s mind; she saw Ansel staring after the train dejectedly, his phone in his hands with his wild hair tussled by the crazy winds on that day. She saw him kick at nothing and say nothing but curses, eventually leaving after realizing that the train wasn’t coming back by some kind of divine intervention.

            Elena Jones: Pick me up tomorrow?

The reply was immediate.

            Ansel Free: Definitely. I miss you.

            Elena Jones: I miss you too, Retel.

Elena shoved the phone back under the pillow and picked up her colored pencils once more, resuming her sketch.

And this time, she felt lighter.

* * * * *

New York City
November 2119
Free, Ansel

Ansel waited.

He felt like an upright moron for snapping at Elena a few hours before she hopped onto the train back to Connecticut. If only he had held his tongue (and God forbid, his temper) when she pricked at his sensitive points. If only he had a better grasp on his goddamn filter.

He didn’t like remembering, but their argument always came back to him.

He had noticed that Elena was drawing away. She would leave earlier, take extended shifts at Starbucks and would return just as Ansel was at the climax of his work. By the time he would go off for bed, she was already asleep. Taking her into his arms felt like holding a marble statue.

Finally, he demanded what was wrong that morning, pushing her to her limits.

And then she was tipped.

Elena broke and told him a lot.

She had been dreaming badly for the past two weeks, clamming up when he asked her what was wrong. She had waved them off and he accepted that all until that morning, when he saw her make coffee enough for five in that humungous coffee mug of hers.

What’s up with you lately, he had asked. He didn’t realize that his tone had gotten awfully snappy. It’s like you’re not here anymore, El. What’s wrong with you?

He had to admit a couple of hours later that his own choice of words wasn’t the best.

And Elena attempted to dodge everything but he kept prodding and asking. When she finally reached her limit, her voice was nearly shrill enough to shatter windows and the lenses of his glasses. What’s wrong – I’ve been dreaming, that’s what’s wrong, she ranted, and he felt all prior irritation melt away.

Basically, Elena was frightened.

“I keep dreaming of these two girls and the other of them kept getting hurt because of me. I played with her feelings and led her on until I pushed her to her breaking point. They had everything laid out in front of them and I broke it – what if I end up doing the same to you?”

Ansel couldn’t say anything at all.

“I’m not consistent. I know that – why do you think I’m not? Don’t you realize who you’re stuck with until the end of time, Ansel?”

God, it was terrible.

“For the rest of your life, you’re going to be stuck with an inconsistent, complicated shell. That’s who you ended up with. And you know what the worst part is, Ansel?”

“I don’t.”

“You don’t,” she had agreed. And she was giving him that cold smile. “You don’t. You don’t know because you’ve been pushing me away, too. That’s fair, isn’t it? We’re doing it to each other.”

“You pushed me first,” he snapped. “You’ve been pushing me first, Elena. I don’t see you anymore. I don’t get to hold you right anymore, I don’t get to do anything with you anymore – don’t you know how frustrating that is for me? It’s like you’re not here.”

She nodded slowly, as if understanding.

“This will be a nice change for you, won’t it?”

And he didn’t understand until he came back later that day, thirty minutes before she would leave. A couple of days back, they agreed that Ansel would bring her to the station.

Elena was gone.

Ansel rushed out of his apartment immediately, grabbing his phone and wallet and hopping into the first taxi he had seen.

            Ansel Free: Elena.  

            Ansel Free: Elena. Pick up your phone.

            Ansel Free: Elena?  

            Ansel Free: Elena, please. Please pick up.

By the time he had gotten there, he sprinted.

And when he reached the train, it was already gone.

Ansel’s head snapped up when he heard the announcement. The train from Connecticut would be arriving in less than five minutes. He stood up, taking his items along with him, and stood at an area where she would immediately see him.

Ansel took a few deep breaths.

The sound of an approaching train came, and he prepared himself for what was to come.

* * * * *

Elena was glancing out the window of the train, the familiar sights of New York City bringing back a nervous feeling in her stomach.

Was Ansel there? Was he really going to be there? He didn’t seem like the type to break an agreement. So he was definitely going to be there.

But what if he had a surprise appointment? A meeting with the crew? Her fingers shakily swiped across the screen of her phone and she checked for any new messages, but there were none. Not even a message from her co-worker asking when she’d be back.

“Who is that young fellow?” a voice came from the seat to her right. Surprised, she looked at the other person and saw an elderly woman gazing curiously. “My goodness…”

Confused, Elena stood a little in her seat, trying to catch sight of whatever the older woman was talking about. Many people had gathered around even as the train stopped, and she scrambled for her belongings, pushing to the front as soon as she could.

“Why don’t you do that for me, Neil?” she overheard.

“We don’t fight, Marissa…”

The doors finally opened and a wave of people, herself included in the crowd, spilled out. She felt the crowd of people squeeze around her, she holding her backpack a little closer to her in fear of someone robbing her.

And she stopped in the middle of the crowd, gaping.

That was Ansel, wasn’t it? With his wild hair and hazel eyes and stupid geeky blazer he always wore whenever he could –

That was Ansel. And he was holding a sign, she recognizing his beautiful calligraphy.

I’m waiting for the most beautiful person I’ve come across – my soul mate. I messed it up recently and I’m afraid of losing one of my sources of happiness in this world, even she may be complicated, jaded and utterly too complex for me to understand.

I love you, Elena.

And as time unfroze for the two of them, she sped into his arms and he dropped the sign, pulling her close and embracing her tightly. Elena smelled him – a mild whiff of alcohol, his cologne, the scent of his blazer – and she only held onto him more, not saying anything at all.

“I’m sorry, El,” he whispered. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry, idiot.” She mumbled into his chest. “I’m sorry, too. It got out of hand and I didn’t realize that I was hurting you too with all the bullshit I was saying and–”

She stopped once he tilted her head up, seeing the small smile on his lips.

“You can break me all you want,” he told her quietly. His fingers moved to brush away a strand of hair blocking her face. “Be as complicated as you need to be. Be as complex as a novel being studied in English, as a lesson in Calculus. Because I know you’ll help fix me up at the end of the day. And because I know that I readily accept you, flaws and all.” his other hand took hers, and he squeezed gently. “I love you. And that’s what matters.”

One moment, she was staring at him in pure disbelief, mouth slightly agape.

The next thing she knew, she had his lips against his, bitter alcohol melding with morning coffee. She missed the softness of his lips, how they perfectly went together like colors blending rightly on her sketchpad.

She felt him etched into her being.

He felt her etched into his being.

And it felt right.