Disillusionment
Disclaimer: Nothing's mine, so don't sue.
Rating: Hard R, for sexual and adult themes, controversial topics, and cursing.
Word Count: 3457
Summary: Pre "To Serve and Protect." Isabel's pregnant. Hers and Alex's worlds have been completely turned upside down and inside out, as have the lives of their friends. Friendships are holding by a thread, relationships are distant, and loyalties are tested. Can a group of friends truly come together when it's needed most? Through thick and thin? Predominantly A/I, but involves all characters.
The beautiful young woman sat on her bed, cross-legged and lost in her
musings, having difficulty keeping her concentration on the math homework in
front of her.
After her confrontation with Danielle Scrimgeour, Isabel's day had continued to
go down hill. First with Kyle's reprimanding, and second with Liz and Maria
having dragged her into the Eraser Room to interrogate her on Alex's recent
behavior, to which she'd had no fruitful answers to give. As her day went on,
her leech of bad karma continued to drain her. The clocks in every classroom
had moved torturously slow, and each time she found her attention drifting from
the topic up for discussion, her teacher would call upon her to answer. Her luck
had almost run dry when her Calculus teacher had requested she come up to
the board and Implicitly Differentiate a particularly arduous function. Luckily for
her, math was a subject she rarely needed to give her full and undivided
attention to.
Isabel rolled her neck, side to side, up and down, and sighed. To say the least,
her day had sucked, and thus far her night had not been much better. Since
blurting out the news of her pregnancy at dinner a month ago, mealtimes had
been quiet and tense at the Evans house, the only sounds being the clinking of
silverware against plates and forced small talk between her mother and Max.
Isabel nowadays tended to either ask to be excused early and retreat to her
room or be the last one to leave, staying around long enough to help her
mother with the dishes. Tonight, she had asked to be excused, only to come out
later to hear her mother and father having an intense conversation in the
kitchen.
Having finished her English assignment, Isabel silently opened and shut her
door, praying that her parents had retired to their bedroom for the night.
Though she had finished her dinner two hours ago, only having eaten half of it
and leaving the rest on the counter, she had found herself having hunger pains
as she wrote the conclusion to her Hamlet essay.
As she tiptoed down the hallway, she exhaled dejectedly as she heard the
tense voices of her parents in the kitchen. Furrowing her brows, she leaned
quiet-as-a-mouse against the wall, eavesdropping on her parents’ low
argument.
"How can you support her decision, Di? How can you pretend that you're not
bothered by this? Pretend that everything will be all right?"
"Did I say everything would be all right, Phillip? Did you think for one second
that I believed this situation would be easy?" Diane questioned, her small
hands shaking as she dried and put away the dishes. "Of course I am bothered
by this! I will not pretend for one minute that I want her to go through this, but
we must be supportive!"
"No, we don't," Phillip began.
Diane interrupted before he could continue. "She is our daughter! If you think
that I will let you continue to treat her like she's a convicted criminal, you're
mistaken." The pale-haired woman paused and breathed deeply, trying to
alleviate the anger broiling within her. She faced her husband, tears forming in
her blue eyes. "Can't you see how this is hurting her? Hurting me? She needs
us! I will not let your prejudice of her predicament tear this family apart."
Phillip stared indifferently at his wife from where he stood at the counter. He
rubbed his right temple and closed his eyes. Looking to his wife again, he shook
his head and grabbed his coat.
"Where are you going?" Diane asked stiffly.
"I have some paperwork I need to catch up on. Don't wait up for me, dear." He
left.
Diane threw the dishtowel she held into the sink and gripped the counter. Her
anger dissipated and all she could do was let her sobs fill the kitchen and watch
her family slowly crumble. She loved her husband, but if he continued this
behavior, she didn't know if she could straddle both sides of the fence. She'd
eventually be forced to choose a side, and that was one decision she hoped
that she'd never have to consider.
Isabel wiped the tears that steadily slid down her cheeks, the clouding guilt
hanging over her head. A sour taste had coated her mouth and throat after
hearing how unsupportive her father was and the position he and she had put
her mother in. The bile collected at the back of her throat and she swiftly
wrapped one arm around her stomach and brought her free hand up to her
mouth. She made her way to the bathroom in time for her to drop to her knees
and throw-up in the toilet.
As she thought back on her parents’ disagreement, Isabel sighed and pondered
how things would be different if she had left and lived in seclusion until her
child’s birth, wondering if maybe then her parents fighting would have abated
and she would not be left blaming herself for all the drastic changes taking place
in her life. She knew she had done the right thing in telling Alex and her
parents, but she now understood why some women preferred to keep their
pregnancy to themselves.
Shaking her head, Isabel realized that she was only giving herself more things
to think about and decided to give it rest. Grabbing her binder from her book
bag, she neatly organized her homework into its proper sections and placed her
textbooks and binder back inside her hunter green side pack. Dropping her
school bag by her bed, she stood up and took a pair of sweats and a tank top
from the bottom drawer of her dresser; she changed, rolled her covers back and
crawled into bed.
Reaching over to turn off her lamp, Isabel hesitated. A last minute thought
surfaced to her consciousness and instead of engulfing the room in darkness,
she grabbed her cell phone from where it charged on her nightstand and
dialed.
“Hello?” The person on the other end questioned. His voice was groggy and
hoarse. She could tell that he’d been asleep for a while and now felt bad for
calling at such an ungodly hour.
“Hi,” she answered quietly. “I’m sorry if I woke you.” Though she knew the
moment he picked up that she had.
“Oh,” his tone became softer. “Hey.” Isabel could hear him sitting up in bed and
turning on the light. “Anything the matter?” The concern in his voice was
evident.
Isabel adjusted her pillows so to lie against the backboard of her bed. “Nothing
in particular; I just wanted to hear your voice, I guess.” She couldn’t hide the
embarrassment etched in her words. Usually she would never openly admit to
calling and ‘just wanting to hear someone’s voice,’ but at that moment it had felt
right to say.
“Oh,” he said again. She could almost hear the smile making its way upon his
lips. “You know, I was going to call you earlier,” he admitted.
“Really?”
“Yeah, I wanted to apologize for yesterday,” he looked to his clock, “Well, the
day before. I was kind of a jerk . . . ."
Isabel sighed. "You don't have to apologize, Alex. We all have our off days. I
didn't take offense to anything you said, so don't worry about it," she lied
through her teeth.
Alex folded his covers down and threw his legs over the side of the bed. "No, Iz.
It wasn't an off day. After our lunch, I realized some of the things I had said to
you and I was absolutely sick with myself. I know that you're lying when you
say that you were alright with what I said." He waited for an answer, but when
he got no response he added, "I'm sorry. Please accept that."
Exhaling, she acquiesced, "Apology accepted." When Isabel heard noise in the
background, she questioned, "What are you doing?"
As he zipped up his jeans, he supplied, "I'm going outside to have a quick
smoke."
Now it was her turn to say, "Oh."
"Yeah." Once outside and sitting on the back patio with a cigarette in hand, he
said, "There was one thing in all that I said that I meant, though."
"What was that?" She asked distractedly as she lightly stroked the area above
her navel, not able to fully recall all of their conversation at this moment.
He simply replied, "Honesty, Iz. Inform me of your thoughts. Good or bad." He
paused a moment and then whispered intensely into the receiver, "We can't let
this baby cause us to go apart."
Isabel could hear Alex taking a drag from his cigarette and felt the tears welling
in her eyes. She had only wanted to hear his voice, and to hope that he would
stay on the line long enough to inform him of the argument she had heard her
parents having earlier this evening. Unfortunately, the conversation was getting
too intense for her. She didn't want Alex to hear her cry or lose control of her
emotions due to things she wished to say to him, so she did the only thing she
could do . . . she hung up.
Is this how it's going to be? How it’s supposed to be? She contemplated,
continuing to caress the slightly raised area of her abdomen and allowing her
unshed tears make crooked streams down her face.
Kyle and Tess sat in the quad the next day, noting that their little group was
dispersed around the school and nowhere to be seen. Kyle happened to know
that Liz and Maria were at a mandatory lunchtime yearbook meeting and that
Isabel finished her day at the end of fourth period. Then Tess had informed him
that Max had stayed after U.S. History to discuss something with the teacher
and that Michael had detention, again.
"Tess, do I look okay?" Kyle questioned, stabbing his fork several times into his
cold lunch, not bothering to eat it. Offhandedly, he added, "I should sue this
school for false advertising. Piping hot lunch, my ass."
Tess answered without looking up, "You look like your average, annoying,
Buddha-worshipping self to me. Why do you ask?"
Kyle blinked. "Could you at least look at me when you answer? I ask because
the plague is going around, and we seem to have it. Why the hell is everyone
being so damn anti-social? Also, Buddhism has nothing to do with worshipping
Buddha. He's not an attention-seeker; he requests that you not worship
him, but follow his teachings."
At Kyle's words, Tess turned her attention away from her French textbook and
responded, "Whatever, Buddha Boy. Why do you think no one's around?
Besides, I thought you were angry at Isabel?"
"I don't know. I guess I still kinda am, but after yesterday I just wrote off her
bitchiness to hormones and Danielle being within 100 feet of her."
"Didn't you used to date her?" Tess pondered aloud.
Kyle gave her a hard though harmless look. "Yeah. In like seventh grade. Long
before she became the Danielle we know and love today." He took a bite of his
lunch and shuddered. "I can't eat this crap." Pushing his plate aside, he said,
"Are you still angry at Isabel and Alex?"
Tess promptly responded, "What do you think?"
"That's a yes," he concluded. Furrowing his eyebrows, he voiced his curiosities.
"Tess, what is your exact motivation for being angry at them in the first
place? So what if she's pregnant? What happened to being a supportive
friend?" When he noticed that she continued to scan her textbook, he reached
across the table, clapped the book shut, and sat it on his lap. "Either you give
me an answer or I will personally dispose of the low-fat, strawberry
yogurt that currently takes residence in our 'frige."
He put both arms out, bent at the elbows, and pretended to be a human scale
weighing her options. Lifting up off the bench, Tess placed his arms at his sides,
quickly snaffled her French book, and sat back down.
Kyle stared at her, stunned. "Swift moves, Smurfette. You could get yourself out
of a few sticky wrestling situations with that kind of flexibility."
"Mind out of the gutter, Kyle," she practically growled, her light blue eyes
flaring.
"Who says it was in the gutter? I was only making an observation." He gave her
his best innocent look and continued, "So . . . you gonna answer my
question?"
Standing up, she said, "Just for that last comment . . . no," and began to walk
away.
"What?" he exclaimed, "Can't anyone take a joke?" When she didn't turn back
around, he shook his head in defeat. "Touché."
After a long day of helping customers and setting up computer displays, Alex
was relieved to finally clock out and walk out to his car. The day had seemed to
drag on, most likely due to his occupied thoughts of his and Isabel’s unfinished
conversation of last night. He had felt slightly put out all day knowing that he
might have upset her by his blunt honesty.
He let the door hang open and was halfway into his car when he decided to
give a certain blonde someone a call. He relaxed into his seat and dialed,
tapping the fingers of his free hand against the steering wheel. He hoped that
she was home and would be the one to answer.
To Alex’s surprised, she picked up. “Hello?”
He sat up straighter and smiled. “Hey. What are you up to?”
From the other end he heard Isabel yawn. “Studying, mostly,” she replied,
closing the textbook she held in her lap and got up from her bed, stretching.
“Just getting off work?”
“Yeah,” he said somewhat distractedly, rubbing the back of his neck. “So… how
are you? I mean you hung up on me last night . . .”
Isabel traveled to the kitchen where her mother stood at the counter preparing
dinner. “Yeah… uh, sorry about that; the phone died before I could answer,”
she lied. She noticed her mother’s questioning look and mouthed ‘Alex’; her
mother nodded and proceeded to stir the simmering vegetables in the pan.
“Anyway, I’m fine. A bit fatigued, though. How was work?” Isabel turned from
Diane and picked at one of the sides her mother had left sitting, only to be
shooed away and told to wait until her brother came home.
Alex heard Diane’s comment ‘to wait ‘til Max got home’ and then said, “Stealing
food, Iz?”
“No,” she answered shortly. Alex was unconvinced, but snickered at the
thought.
“Work was work. It wasn’t really busy today, but the store manager still had an
entire list of things for me to do.” Finally putting his other leg inside the car, he
closed the door. “So I’m off Saturday.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah, and I was wondering if maybe you wanted to do something… maybe a
sit-in movie and kettle corn, or we could go out to eat.” He held the phone
between his chin and shoulder as he put the key into the ignition, waiting for
her to make or break his Saturday night.
Isabel contemplated his offer as she journeyed back to her bedroom, wishing
she could take him up, but knew she had other plans for that night. “I really
wish I could, Alex, but I’m all ready booked.”
Alex coughed, surprised by her statement. “With what, might I ask?”
“Uh, I’ve been meaning to talk with you about it actually…” she trailed off, not
exactly sure if she wanted to tell Alex of her plans.
Alex sat back again, a concerned look on his face. “You’re okay, right? From the
sounds of it, I have a feeling that whatever you’re going to tell me is not exactly
what I want to hear.” Please say that she’s volunteering or going to a study
group, Alex prayed.
Isabel sat on her bed and cradled the phone between her shoulder and ear,
nervously playing with her nails. “You do remember me telling you that I never
properly ended it with Grant, right?”
Oh God, I think I know where this is going. He slowly responded,
“Yeah.”
“Well, he, uh, called me the other day… to ask me out, and – you know – since I
feel that some closure is needed in this situation, I agreed to go to the movies
and then maybe ice cream afterwards.” Isabel bit her lip, anticipating Alex’s
reaction. Oh, I’m never going to hear the end of this. Though she knew
Alex never to hold grudges, she had an inkling that once this was resolved that
he would hold this against her.
Alex had to stop himself from gnashing his teeth and punching the dashboard in
frustration. He closed his eyes and asked dejectedly, “What the hell,
Iz?”
She stood from her seat and began pacing the room. "Alex, just hear me out. I
dropped Grant like a lead ball off a skyscraper the moment I realized that our
existence was about to take a turn into unknown territory. I realize that you
don't like Grant, and I don't blame you. I was stupid, and I didn't mean to hurt
you like I did when Grant showed up in town."
Alex shook the memory of that particular day in the Crashdown as far from his
mind as he could.
Sighing, she continued, "I just... Look, if I had done that to you, how would you
feel?"
Alex gruffly exhaled, "I'd be pissed."
"Exactly. It wasn't fair that I did that to him, especially he not knowing about...
you know. If I do this, I can at least give him closure."
"Isabel, it's not like you were in a serious relationship. A call would be
sufficient."
She stopped pacing and gave him unseeable incredulous stare. "Yeah, like you
would feel satisfied if I called you and told you that I was sleeping with another
guy while we were dating and got pregnant by said guy. A guy that I have been
in previous liaisons with and possess stronger feelings for than I would ever
possess for you." She paused to catch her breath. "How is that
sufficient?"
The young man held an odd expression on his face. "I see your point, but I
didn't think you'd spill your guts to him." Alex switched ears and added, "I
understand your reasoning, but I do not see the necessity in you having to
have a proper date with him."
Isabel lowered herself into her vanity chair and quietly said, "Alex, with Grant,
there were no emotions involved. He was just a good-looking, older guy I could
chew up and spit back out. An easy relationship that held no thought or
feelings, one that I could handle when things in my personal life got too
serious." She didn't need to see Alex to know that he was nodding at the other
end. "I wouldn't be doing this if it wasn't out of respect for you, if that makes
any sense. Grant, after Saturday night, will be wiped from my life and you will
never have to hear of him again. I assure you," she finished sincerely.
Alex's irritation dissipated at her last words, and though he wasn't completely
happy with her reply, he said, "Then will you make it up to me by having dinner
with me next Thursday?"
Isabel smiled, "Definitely. Just give me a call." She heard the front door open
and close, and then her mother cried that dinner was ready. "Anyway, I gotta
go."
"Yeah, I should be heading home. I've been sitting in my car for the last
forty-five minutes talking to you." He turned the car on and revved the engine a
couple times. "I'll talk to you later. Oh, and before you hang up, if he tries
anything... I will not hesitate to kick his ass."
"Going into overprotective boyfriend mode?" she teased.
"I suppose. Talk with you soon," and he hung up.
Isabel headed into the kitchen for the second time that evening and placed the
phone on its wall cradle and sat at the table to join her family for dinner. She
noted that her father was conveniently missing from the table, and exhaled
loudly, finding herself not as hungry as she thought she was.
Swallowing his food, Max asked, "What's wrong, Iz?" He took another bite,
pulling a face when he swallowed this time. He thanked his stars that his
mother did not see.
"Nothing," she replied, moving her food to the edges of her plate with her fork,
taking a bite here and there. "Just this whole entire thing sucks."