Chapter Text
You’d been alone at the dining table seeping your morning coffee when a frowning Frederick came in for breakfast, still wearing his robe. It was Friday but you both had it off from work. He had been rather distant last night and hadn’t said much this morning. Come to think about it, he has been distant since you got back from a work trip to Chicago on Monday.
You had spent fuor days up there in a cycle of conferences and had bumped into David Carrera, your old graduate school roommate. You spent everyday day with him, commenting and poking fun at the conferences, going out to eat, talking about current research and life, and remembering old times. You told him about Frederick and he told you about his fiancée in New York. Thought you hadn’t lost contact with him over the years, it had been an age since you last saw him in person.
You remember telling Frederick on the phone about how glad you were to see David again, how you invited him back to Baltimore because you wanted to introduce him to some colleagues that could help him start up an art education program. You remember how his face hardened when he saw David exiting the arrival gate with you when he came to pick you up at the airport. His face when you told him you were having dinner with David that night, since he was leaving tomorrow. His refusal to join you. All the little comments he had made during the last three days that you had let slide, because to you it was just David. Silly David who once destroyed your stove in college and defended you from arachnids.
Looking at Frederick now moving around the kitchen, you didn’t think possible one could look so upset buttering toast but there he was. ‘Oh no’ you thought.
“Okay, Frederick. What is it?” you ask him, serious.
“Nothing.” He walked to the table and placed his plate of toast on the surface, on the spot opposite you, but he didn’t sit down.
“It can’t be nothing when you’ve hardly spoken to me this week.” you tell him.
“It’s not like you’ve had much time for me when David is in town. Can’t add to conversation either, when all you talk about is him.” His eyes were angry and the pitch of accusation underlined his word.
That tone and those words were causing anger to spread in your chest. You took a deep breath; you weren’t going to start this fight if you could help it. “Don’t bring David into this. You knew I was going to be working with him this week. He is just –“
“Just what?” he interrupts you. “Just your friend, whose side you haven’t left for more than a week since you met in Chicago?”
“Yes, just my friend.” You reply slowly and pointedly, looking him in the eye trying to will him to drop the subject and calm down.
He looked at you, silent and unmoving. He was still standing before the table, his right hand clutching the handle of his cane so hard his knuckles were turning white. All these feelings of jealousy and insecurity he had been try to suppress since you told him about bumping into this David had just morphed into a senseless anger that was bursting the seams of his self-control. He had tried to quell these emotions and not have his heart fall to the bottom of his stomach every time you told him with whom you had spent your day. He had been trying to remind himself that you were with him, and that was what mattered. Then he remembers David by your side at the airport; tall, lean and classically handsome. He was cordial and considerate as well but Frederick wasn’t about to admit that. He hated seeing the chemistry you had with him, you had been roommates for two years you said. How was he to know what happened during those two years? How was he to know what happened during those four days in Chicago that had you clinging to your friend? Those days away from him and close to another man, he was left with the memory of your laughter on the phone and the lingering thought that you would one day realize you could do better and leave him. He realized he couldn’t bear the thought of being alone again like he was before.
He felt weak, uncertain, and when he felt like that his immediate respond was hostility. Before he could even stop himself he blurted out accusingly, "I don’t believe you."
He sees your eyes widen in anger as you slowly reply in the same tone, "You don’t believe what?"
And all his frustrations just comes forth, "I don’t believe that it was just a mere coincidence that you met in him in Chicago. What with you clinging to his every word and going after him."
"Going after him?" you parroted incredulously.
But he continued, "How am I to know that all you did was remember old times, alone in a hotel room? And what type of old times? Has he-"
You stand up abruptly, the chair you were sitting on scratching the floor loudly as it was pushed back. "Stop right there, Frederick. How dare you insinuate something like that? You know there isn’t anything between David and I. I haven’t given you reason not to trust me. You-"
"You haven’t given me reason to! You're always flirting, how can I trust you completely when you're sauntering into people's graces all the time?"
Your face hardened. 'It's with you I always flirting with, foolish man.'
It took everything in you to not yell What the hell is wrong with you?. "How dare you? Don’t blame me for your insecurities and your inability to distinguish cordiality from flirtation." You reply darkly.
"My insecurities?" he replies haughtily. He takes a breath to continue, and you just know that whatever he is about to say is going to hurt. You lift a hand to stop him and give him a hard look, " I'm done. I’m not going to take this. This is absolutely ridiculous." You turn away, walking toward the foyer where you left your purse and car keys last night. Thanking the universe that you had decided to dress before breakfast, you were so mad you would have left in your nightgown. "Stop!" you hear him call from the kitchen, "We’re not finished with this. What are you doing?" He follows behind you.
"We are finished." You’re grabbing your purse and keys. "I’m leaving, that’s what I’m doing." You were definitely not going to talk to him when he was like this.
You didn’t look back as you grabbed your things and stormed out the door. Frederick was left standing there in the foyer, his angry glare dropped the moment you said you were leaving. He grabs his cane with both hands, twisting his hands against the sleek surface and hurls it against the floor. "f*ck!" He tries to ignore the knot that forms in his throat and the sudden burning feeling behind his eyes.
You had five missed calls from him by the time you were meeting David for dinner, you thought of cancelling since you certainly weren’t going to be good company tonight but you didn’t want to be alone either. You pinch the bridge of your nose and try to will your headache away. You were angry and hurt, so upset that after all this time Frederick would slash at you with such accusations. You thought you made it obvious that you care for him deeply. For goodness’ sake, saying he didn’t trust you when you had exchanged house keys two weeks ago.
Just as you were about to exit your car to walk to the bistro, your phone beeps with a text message. It’s from Frederick.
I’m sorry.
Can we talk?
You sigh, contemplate if you should answer it or not. You know of his penchant for self-pity, you imagine him sitting in his living room alone. Your anger flares and you decide not to reply.
Two hours later, Frederick’s phone vibrates on the coffee table. He reaches for it quickly, he hasn’t let it out of reach after you left. He has berated himself all day for how stupid he acted this morning. He called you desperately to your cellphone, each time you didn’t answer his chest became heavier. The dread grew in his mind that everything was indeed finished because of his immature fit. He only has to recall how you regarded him that morning after he accused you, you'd never looked at him like that. It was so different from how you look at him. hurt so much. He dreaded when the moment would arrive and you won’t be there to tease him over dinner, won’t drive to his house after work to kiss him and ask him about his day, that he would once again have no one genuinely smile at him with such warmth, no one to simply be himself with.
To say he didn't trust you when it was such a lie. How can he be so childish?
The text was just two words: Not now.
He replies immediately. When?
Ten minutes later the phone vibrates again.
I don’t know.
Frederick screws his eyes shut, drops his head in his hands and curses himself for the thousandth time that day.
