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nuagederose · 9 months

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As the Seasons Grey | Chapter Thirty-Two: Velvet Goldmine

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That first morning of a brand new term at school proved to be a snowy one as Christine climbed out of bed and stretched her arms over her head. Through the slits in the blinds, she could see the snowflakes flooding down from the gray overcast skies. She had food in the kitchen, but nothing that she craved, however. It was a brand new school term, on top of a brand new year, and she was looking at the final hours of her twenties to boot.

Time to live a little and do something that she had been too afraid of doing whilst in the early part of the decade.

She ran a brush through her long hair, still slightly damp from her shower the night before, and then, once she tied it back up into that long luxurious ponytail at the back of her head, she got dressed in a little white sweatshirt and snug black jeans, followed by her trademark long green coat. As she tied up her boots, she thought about Alex and where the classroom was going to be in comparison to Mr. Hansen’s class: if Captain Howdy was going to participate that quarter, then she would have to think ahead. She needn’t have to work her way around her in the school corridors alone, but she knew that she would have to work things around meeting up with Alex and Eric at lunchtime and their breaks over the course of the day.

Christine stood up and smoothed down the front of her coat with both hands. She wore that same white sweatshirt underneath that Alex loved, given it fit her body like a glove. She walked on over to the mirror in her bathroom for a look into the mirror’s reflection, albeit without turning on the light.

At the same time, there was something so dangerously titillating about the whole situation. Overnight, she had become a ghost, the mystery woman in the shadows cast by the rafters of the highest most Gothic church in the heart of downtown. She lurked in the darkness with her eye on the prize, on Captain Howdy’s blood. The demon who had possessed Alex had nothing on her. Indeed, when she turned her head to the side, a dark shadow crossed her face to where it looked as though she had two faces, a blackened one with a well-lit one, as if she wore a mask.

The phantom.

She picked up the hem of her jacket and waved it about as if it was a cloak instead. She knew she was going to have to swoop in to save her own Christine at some point, especially when she couldn’t save her first Christine.

She raised her gaze over to the clock on the desk in her bedroom, and she realized she only had five minutes to head to the bus stop at eight o’clock sharp. She ducked out of there with her book bag and her keys, out to the hallway and then into the fluffy white snow banks. The last thing she wanted was to be late on her first day of school.

A cold morning warranted a warm breakfast, and she hoped that Nelly had something delicious for her in the cafeteria.

She scurried up to the bus stop right as the bus lumbered up the block for her. She got there by the skin of her teeth.

The inside of the bus was warm and smelled like lemons, as if they had just cleaned it the day before. Christine huddled down in the front seat on the left side, right behind the driver.

Though she had never really been much of an artist in her life, she had no worries about partaking in art classes for the winter. Snowy days warranted spending time with something as cozy as curling up with a pad of either drawing paper or watercolor paper.

As they crossed the bridge into the Lower East Side, she peered out the window to the cold black waters of the East River. Something in the very back of her mind told her she was crossing the River Styx, and yet she had no coins for the ferryman. At least not anymore.

She gave up her coins after Chris was killed and she had buried their memories out there on Long Island.

Within time, the bus reached the brim of the campus, where she recognized Nelly’s feathery blonde hair and Eric’s long black hair, both of which twirled in the wind there at the bus stop. Christine stepped off the bus with her hood pulled over the crown of her head.

“I was wondering where you were,” she told Eric as part of her greeting.

“Nells here called me last night,” he explained as he rested a hand on her shoulder. “It’s a long story.”

“I needed his opinion on the scrambled eggs,” Nelly filled in as they began along the shoveled sidewalk towards the school. “We started bringing in eggs for the rounds of breakfast because… you know, it’s wintertime and everyone is going to want to eat something warm and healthy and give them some good energy. I called him because it’s been a long time since I’ve made batches of eggs for people, like about ten years. Plus, nobody in the kitchen gave me that good of an opinion, either. I needed someone from the outside.”

“And how are they?” Christine asked.

“Not bad,” Eric replied with a shrug of his shoulders. “They needed salt, but I scarfed up my plate full of them.”

“Eggs and bacon, I presume?” Christine teased him.

“Nah, just eggs,” he assured her. “Eggs and a piece of toast.”

“I kind of want a Denver omelette,” Christine confessed as they reached the front lawn of the school, which had been blanketed in a thick layer of pristine pearly white snow: the front doors to the cafeteria were lined with crusty white ice crystals. Something about that made her think of herself as a snow queen with magic powers. She had never tried a Denver omelette before, but she knew it was the first step to all good things.

“Haven’t made a Denver omelette in years, longer than straight up eggs, and I have no clue if we have any bell peppers laying around, either, but I’ll try my best,” Nelly vowed with a wink flashed at her. “If nothing else, swing by my place after school and I’ll try it there for you.”

“We both get breakfast on the house,” Eric remarked as they carefully walked up the steps. Though they had been shoveled and sprinkled with the snow melt and pieces of brick, there was still that odd chance of snow on the concrete. Luckily for the three of them, they reached the front door without any trouble whatsoever, and Eric held the door for Christine and Nelly. The latter headed on over to the side door to the kitchen to prepare Christine’s omelette, while the two of them headed to the other side of the room, the usual spot where Christine congregated with Alex. She hoped that he could find the time to join them as she knew that, aside from the art classes, they had a full, hectic schedule over the next few months.

Eric smoothed his hair at the top of his head once they had taken their seats. Christine had a feeling that there was something he hid from her as well, that there was another reason as to why he had showed up at school so early. He turned his attention to her with his eyes hooded.

“I feel bad,” he confessed.

“How come?” she asked him, concerned.

“I feel like I haven’t been the best friend to you,” he said, to which she shook her head.

“Nah, you’re just not used to it is all,” she assured him. “You know, Chris went through something similar when I first met him. He was a shy boy, but once I started talking to him, he opened up to me no problem. It helps if you relax and just sort of… let go a bit. I can see you’re nervous around me, and I can assure you there’s no reason for it. I mean, you flat out confessed that you want to kiss me.”

He sighed through his nose and leaned back in his chair with his hands rested upon the heavy wooden surface.

“We did go camping upstate together,” he pointed out.

“And we’re going to California this summer, too,” she added.

“We’re going to California, yeah! I already have plenty of money tucked away, just gotta find a hotel next.”

“Are we going to have separate beds or one bed?” she asked him.

“Well, hopefully, we’ll have a room with two,” he assured her, and his voice trailed off. She noticed a slight twinkle in his eye, as if he was about to tell her a dirty little secret. She parted her lips to say something to him when Nelly emerged from the kitchen with an off-white plate in one hand and small streams of wispy steam off the top.

“Oh my,” Christine gasped as Nelly placed the plate down before her. The fluffy light yellow omelette was folded over to a perfect rectangle with little cubes of red bell peppers and pieces of chives sprinkled on top: she noticed the small cubes of ham embedded within as well and she knew that she had made a good call with the omelette.

“Holy crap, that smells divine,” Eric declared.

“Hot and fresh off the griddle,” she told Christine. “You’re lucky, too, Chris, there was only one bell pepper left in the fridge and it was just right.”

“Wow, thank you, Nelly!” Christine said as Nelly handed her a fork.

Indeed, she took her time in eating the omelette, regardless of how much time she had left before she and Eric had to go to their first classes. The eggs were light and delicate while Nelly had cooked the ham and peppers to perfection: she almost didn’t even taste the onions, which gave it a gentle crunch.

“You have Mr. Hansen first thing, right?” she asked him in between bites.

“Yup, first thing and then I have lunch and then you and I have Alex at the end of the day,” he replied. “I guess Mr. Hansen’s schedule is staggered this year, too, like his classes are longer.”

“That should be fun,” she assured him. “Is there a break in there somewhere, too?” To which he shook his head.

“Just a lunch break. I have my other two classes with him tomorrow—you know, that smells so good, like I can’t believe how good that smells.”

“Want a bite?” she offered him, and she sloughed off a piece of eggs with some bell pepper and ham mixed in. She handed him the fork, and he brought it to his mouth for a good hearty bite of it. He closed his eyes as he took the tines out.

“Oh, man,” he noted with his mouth full.

“Delicious?”

“Very much so.” He nodded his head at that, and then he rubbed his hands together. “And with that, I gotta bounce.” He climbed out of his chair and scooped up his bag from the wooden surface. “Alex’s class?”

“Alex’s class,” Christine vowed with a raise of her fork to him. Eric padded over to the front doors, and yet, Christine knew she was going to relish her time alone. She had a batch of brand new classes with new people to meet and new adventures to undertake on her own.

One thing that stood out to her with her drawing class was her teacher, Miss Guy, telling everyone that she didn’t want a class full of Picassos.

“You each have your own fingerprint, your own trademark, your own style,” the gray-haired Asian woman told them. “It’s so easy to fall into a trap, and I don’t want any of you to do that. My job is to ensure that you merely sign your work with pride and that you took the techniques I’ll teach you into account each and every time.”

“Of course,” Christine whispered to herself.

She heard the same thing next door in her watercolor class, where she learned that she had to, not only buy colored pencils for drawing but some kind of paint set on top of that.

Then came French literature at the end of the day, the classroom nestled right next door to Mr. Hansen’s class. When she strolled into the room, Alex himself was making a joke to Eric about something there at the front of the classroom.

“At least you only have to walk a few feet,” Alex scoffed. “I gotta make a mad dash from here to the parking lot every day because you know how traffic is this time of day.” He lifted his gaze and his face lit up at the sight of Christine. “Hey! There’s our girl!”

Eric turned his head for a look back at her.

“Sluggo here has something to tell you,” Alex added with a run of his fingers through his hair: the gray streak flashed out like a bolt of lightning to her.

“Oh, do you now?” Christine stood over him with her hands pressed to her hips. Eric swallowed and bowed his head in her wake. Alex straightened out the lapels of his jacket, and it was that moment, Christine wished she wore her bloodied nurse costume under her coat instead of the white sweatshirt for him.

It was one of those things she merely felt in her bones with each second.

“I just kind of… want to…” Eric sputtered, and he cleared his throat a few times.

“Yes?”

Eric lifted his head for a look at her: those deep brown eyes seemed to swallow her whole. “…kiss you down low,” he sputtered to her.

“En Français, Sluggo,” Alex chimed in right then.

Eric swallowed. Nothing could deny the twinkle in Alex’s eyes right then, either.

“Je veux t'embrasser sous la ceinture, Christine,” Eric repeated, albeit in a rather choppy accent. Christine glanced over at Alex, who then showed her his tongue.

“I don’t get it,” she admitted.

“I told him that everything sounds more erotic in French,” he explained. “And I taught him that little phrase there. I mean, to say ‘I want to kiss you’ sounds kinda dry and overly simple. But… je veux t’embrasser.” His accent sent a chill up her spine. “Doesn’t that sound sensual?”

“It does,” she remarked with a chuckle, and he stripped off his jacket and leaned into her face for a kiss hello.

“You smell like ham and eggs,” he remarked.

“Nelly made me a Denver omelette,” she replied as he walked on over to the desk and draped his jacket over the back of his chair and took his seat. “On the house, too.”

“Holy shit, really?” He raised his eyebrows and leaned forward in his chair at that.

“Yeah. It was delicious, too. Wasn’t it, Eric?”

“Yeah, it was!” he declared.

“Guess I’m going to have to hit her up with a request,” Alex said as he folded his hands over his little belly. “Also, I guess tomorrow is the last night Trans-Siberian Orchestra is performing, and… you guessed it, the two of you and dear Nelly are all invited. I told her about it over my lunch break and she just about knocked me over with a bear hug.”

“Beautiful,” Christine quipped with a chuckle and a glance about the room. “Sit anywhere again?”

“You know how we do it, my dear Strawberry Girl,” he assured her with a wink.

She took her seat next to Eric and right in front of Alex himself, and they both grinned at her.

“Baby, it’s cold outside,” Alex sang in a low voice.

“It really is,” she added, also in a low voice.

She knew that she would have to buy a book from the bookstore once class was dismissed, but luckily for her, he let the class out after ten minutes.

“Just because I know some of us—” He glanced down to Christine and Eric before him. “—have buses to catch and what have you, and the bookstore is—you know.”

“Clear across campus,” a boy behind Christine declared.

“Exactly! Plus, we got all this snow on the ground. It’d be unreasonable on my part.”

While the class behind her chattered amongst themselves, Alex leaned over her desk to her.

“I hate to do this to you,” he said in a low voice. “But… she’s actually here right now, right next door here, and she’ll be out of class like any minute now, and she’s going to momentarily poke her head in here, so if I seem to act rather… I want to say ‘cold’ towards you and Eric all term, you’ll know why. I just… don’t really want her to know about the two of you, especially you. I’m really only going to act like this towards you just to protect you.” He nudged his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “Does that make sense?”

“Of course,” Christine assured him with a nod.

“Plus, I really hate to have you walk all the way over to the bookstore just to buy a heavy as hell textbook that you’re only going to use once. Let me go over there with you and him and help you out with it.”

“I’d love that,” she said with a smile.

How she wished the Sundaes were there right at that moment. Something told her that they would know what to do about her in the room next door.

She heard the door out there swing open and everyone filed out of that room. Alex flashed her a wink and backed away from her.

Christine bowed her head as if she was looking over the syllabus rather than looking at anything else, even though she glazed over the words on the page. The footsteps out there, with one that walked as though ready to take her out to the shadows. She couldn’t help but picture her, with her handbag slung over her shoulder and her frilly dress and her posture and gait ever so perfect. It was those moments in which Christine couldn’t help but think back to the days in which she couldn’t bear to eat, when she thought she was taking up far too much space with her small figure and the sight of someone whom she knew in her heart was far better-looking than her; she swallowed at the realization that she knew Alex found Captain Howdy far more attractive than her and for as long as he did as well.

She closed her eyes and pictured him next to her instead. If only she could find a way to stop that wedding.

If only.

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