That Thing Between Eli & Gwen

“It’s not stupid or a joke. It’s what I want to do. I’ve already met with a record label and was asked to tour, and I’m going in a week.”

“Like hell you are—”

“Eli, maybe you don’t get it, but I’m sick and tired of waiting and hoping for your blessing! I’m an adult. I’m able to make this choice on my own, and I’ve made it.” He walked around me, back to the elevator.

“So what, you are just going to throw away all your hard work? Drop everything and go sing for a living?”

“Yes, and the only reason the work was so hard was because I hated it so much. I did it because I wanted my big brother to be proud of me. I wanted him to be happy, because I knew he did everything in the world for me growing up to make up for the fact that I never knew my father. You taught me how to play baseball and soccer. You went to NYU, even though you got into the best schools in the country, because you wanted to be near me and Mom. Even after we told you we were fine, you still only chose Yale for medical school so you could drive home every few days to be with us. You’ve always taken care of us, and I wish I wanted the life you want for me. I really do. I wish I wasn’t letting you down right now, but I’m not like you, Eli. I can’t live my life for other people. I just can’t.” He got into the elevator.

I wasn’t even sure what to say. Grabbing my stuff and entering my apartment, I was tempted to go back after him. He was throwing his life away. Why didn’t he see that?

Taking an aspirin, I lay down on my couch, trying to breathe and get a hold of myself, but my headache would not stop.

Guinevere

I waited until about ten before I finally worked up the courage to knock on his door.

It took a while, but he finally opened it, wearing the same clothes he'd worn to work that morning, only more rumpled. His eyes widened as he stared at me, and then down at his watch. “Guinevere, I’m so sorry!” He put his forehead on the back of the hand holding the door.

“Can I come in? I brought Chinese.” I lifted the bag for him to see.

He tried to smile. “Guinevere, I’m in an awful mood—”

“I know. I heard you and Logan. I’m sure the whole building heard you and Logan. I was just going to let it go and pretend I didn’t hear anything if you called. But then I felt like I was lying. I was looking forward to spending time with you so, bad mood or not, I’m here with food.”

He moved aside for me to enter.

I walked to the kitchen, putting the bag on the counter and pulling everything out. “I wasn’t sure what you wanted, so I kind of got one of everything that sounded good. Stevie swears by the place, so I—what?” He was just staring at me when I turned around.

“Nothing. I’m just a little annoyed with myself for falling asleep, and you went through all this trouble. I’m sure you overthought everything, from ordering the food to coming over here,” he replied, moving to get plates.

“I wasn’t overthinking. Wondering what to get is a valid concern. You eat mostly healthy anyway, so I wasn’t even sure about Chinese. But it’s better than pizza, right?”

He snickered, shaking his head at me. “Chinese food is worse for you, but it’s all right, I'll eat anything.”

I should have gotten pizza!

“And now you're thinking you should have gotten pizza.” He laughed, dishing out the food for us both.

“Stop doing that.”

“Stop making faces and I wouldn’t be able to know. Rice or noodles?”

“Always rice,” I said.

His eyes paused on the small gift I had brought over as well. It was wrapped in plain brown paper from my apartment.

I saw him reach for it,

so I took it back.

“Food first,” I said, holding it behind my back.

He gave me an odd look but said nothing, handing me my plate and reaching into his wine fridge.

“Oh no, you're almost out of your dad’s wine? I feel like it’s my fault.”

“I’m nowhere near being out. My mom has a whole cellar full at the house. Besides, we know how it’s made. We can always have more produced if we really want to,” he replied, grabbing glasses and following me to the living room. He sat close by.