Ceaselessly Into the Past (Stephen and Elle)

[JENNA GRAY]

“Gray. Table for three reserved under…Fairchild, I believe?”

The young woman who stood before rifled through a notepad. ”You’re a bit early, Miss. Gray.”

Miss. It was the sort of word that washed through her abruptly, like a shiver, or a shudder.

”Would you prefer to sit now? Or wait for the rest of your party?”

Her legs were throbbing. She hadn’t felt like bothering the cab company today, and the thirteen-block walk in heels and a pencil skirt had done little kindness to her muscles. ”I’d like to sit.”

”Yes ma’am.”

The hostess led her to a small, round table in the back corner. A few heads turned as she glided through, the familiar whispers of her name echoing like static in her ears, but she made no move to acknowledge them. Tonight, she was here for one woman, and one woman alone.

Elle Fairchild.

Well, and a cousin of hers, apparently. Jenna hadn’t thought to inquire as to the identity of this cousin, but assumed it would be a new acquaintance. Otherwise, why wouldn’t Ms. Fairchild have come up in her life before?

Oh dear God, Ms. Fairchild. Jenna drummed her fingers agitatedly on the tabletop before her, gazing out the window to her right at the jungle of city lights. Thank you so much for inviting me to this lovely dinner, Ms. Fairchild. She’d rehearsed what she was going to say in her head more times than she could count, so precisely and ferociously that she’d had trouble focusing on the day’s work and meetings, and had had to step out for fresh air a few times throughout the afternoon. I hope you enjoyed it as much as I did. Oh, don’t worry, I’ll pay. Lovely dress, by the way. Care for another drink? My treat.

She had the script ready and waiting in her head, down to a science.

She hoped to God that Ms. Fairchild and her cousin would follow it.

[STEPHEN FRASIER]

Stephen was always late. Fashionably late, late on purpose; whatever the term or saying, he was the poster child. Punctuality was an anomaly. Arriving early was an embarrassment.

He wouldn't be so perturbed by his timing had he been doing something social before stepping foot in the restaurant, but the truth was all that he'd been doing for the better half of the day was brooding alone in his dark apartment, drinking shitty coffee and cursing under his breath. Val was on her last leg, as far as he was concerned. Every one he knew was irritating and everything around him was irritating. No matter of music, cigarettes, or mindless surfing of the internet could remove his thoughts from repetitive melancholy. It was one of those days.

And of course this day was the day he'd promised his cousin Elle (he only knew her as Penny) he'd meet up with her and a friend for dinner. On several accounts, Stephen felt this whole situation pitiful. Even though they had been pretty close as children, he hadn't talked to Penny in months. He wasn't sure if she was expecting this to become a regular sort of meeting up, or if she simply asked him out of the politeness, an awkward sort of familial obligation riding along the coattails of her invitation. Even being earnest with himself as he possibly could, he couldn't determine which he preferred it to be.

After throwing on a beanie to cover his unwashed hair, he took to the streets, head ducked down until he reached the address Penny had given him couple weeks ago over the phone, which he scrawled quickly on the back of his hand in smeared black ink before leaving. Just by stealing a quick glance into the windows of the place, he knew he was under dressed. A bit too grungy and greasy to meet standards. But the hostess already noticed him, squinting back at him from the window with what he only assumed was disgusted curiosity. Why, yes, he would be setting foot in the place looking like this, because this is how he looked today and she could kindly fuck off.

Pushing open the door, he was surprised with a friendly greeting.
Can I help you, sir?

He nodded, head slightly bowed, voice soft, pulling off an equally friendly inflection.

"Yeah, thanks. I'm with P- uh, Fairchild. Table's reserved under Fairchild."

"Ah, yes. Follow me sir."

Coughing, his cheeks grew pink. Dear Lord, he felt out of place. Mind swimming with the stares of people just glancing, and the judgment of people unaware of his presence, he followed the host to his table.

"There we are sir, I'm sure the third member of your party will be joining you shortly."

Upon looking up, the inside of Stephen's throat turned to raw cotton. Any trace of spit, sweat, and moisture evaporated off his body and into clouds around his vision. His tongue seemed only to scrape the shriveled grooves in his palette when he tried to form words. Sympathetic nervous system raging within him, he subtlety clenched his fingers tight and released. Though his gaze into the familiar face may have been a little too long for comfort on other end, it was go time. Time to play it cool.

Breaking into a breezy grin followed by a slight, relaxed laugh, he took the seat opposite of his cousin's friend.

"Jenna...wow! Its been a long time! You look great,"

He paused and let the tensed muscles in his face mold into complete composure.

"You're friends with Penny, huh?"

The words fell the like marbles out of his mouth and onto the table, each one tumbling, landing with a rough bang, then gliding smoothly over to his counterpart.

outfit