#the lines are so tacky and humour so 15 year old boy

[vedentytar]

is ragnarök where the downfall of marvel (more like the avengers) started? did I not realise when I first saw the film? or has it always been kinda weird? do I actually not like marvel????

[littleredroseonthevalley]

An Opera on Separation - Chapter 15

Prologue | Ch. 1 | Ch. 2 | Ch. 3 | Ch. 4 | Ch. 5 | Ch. 6 | Ch. 7 | Ch. 8 | Ch. 9 | Ch. 10 | Ch. 11 | Ch. 12 | Ch. 13 | Ch. 14 | CH. 15 | Ch. 16 | Ch. 17 | Ch. 18 |

Summary: It is the end of term for the teachers at Lydia Child. Zig has a special surprise for Emily. An undesirable presence looms the Park Avenue apartment, though. How Queenie and Nathan will deal with the newcomer?

Rating: T - Content not suitable for children.  Suitable for teens, 13 years and older, with minor suggestive adult themes.

Words: 2028

Notes: A Christmas chapter to give some relief (and to mock, as in Cape Town not only is cold, but it’s also raining like nobody’s business) for my dearest Northern Hemisphere readers.

Reblog, please. Enjoy.

Santa’s Coming For Us

“And we’re done!” Marietta shut her notebook, signalling the end of the arduous meeting. “Congratulations, everyone, for this term. Now, let us trade gifts and dig onto that pizza. I swear to God, it’s been singing my name for the last hour.”

The teachers clapped animatedly, relieved for their two-week break, and then they served themselves each a piece of pizza from the spread by one side of the room.

Emily had spent most of the evening next to the elderly Mr. Smith, discussing his classes, programs and students, in preparation for his retirement at the end of the school year. As for Zig, he was at the opposite end of the room, fidgeting with his hands and the edges of his shirt in a clear display of nerves.

“Someone should talk with Mr. Ortega.” Mr. Smith noted, with a grave note of concern. “Look at the boy! He’s pale as a sheet!”

Emily followed his line of sight and Zig did look like if he was about to pass out at any minute. She excused herself from the elderly teacher and walked over to the Latino man.

“Hey.” She says. “Are you okay? You look ill.”

He laughed off-tone. “Me? Ill? Nope! Not at all! I feel as healthy as a horse!”

“Are you sure?” The woman presses on.

“Ms. Harper!” Marietta calls off behind her. “Take your seat, we’ll have our Secret Santa now!”

“In a moment, ma’am.” The redhead nodded.

She gave the young man a last appraising look and walked back to her chair with the rest of the English department.

“Now, since we’re all ready, we should begin.” Ms. Jones announces. “Ms. Harper, as you seem so eager, why don’t you begin?”

Blushing from being singled out, she coughs a little to prep her voice and starts the guessing game: “My Secret Santa…”

A few minutes in and the Secret Santa was in full swing, with petty trinkets, hugs and wishes for a great holiday season being traded around the room between the lecturers.

Somewhere around the middle of it, Zig had been drawn by a young Social Studies teacher who had gifted him a navy blue tie, on the fashion of those he uses every day for work.

He thanked the girl politely, albeit rather coldly, and loosened the one he was wearing to change to the one he was given.

Afterwards, the man stands up once more and clear his throat: “Er… my Secret Santa is a girl. She has red hair and is a little on the short side. She doesn’t like to be told that, but it’s the truth. She arrived to Lydia Child only this year, and it was a great surprise to me. I’ve known and respected her for so long, but it was just as long the last time I’d met her.

“The first time she ever taught was back in August, and you could see the nervousness on her eyes. I’d wager she thought the students were going to eat her.” The small joke elicit a few laughs from the audience. “But she raised above all the limitations, like we all did, and now she’s one of the most well-liked teachers in the school, and I didn’t doubt for a single minute that she would.

“I mean, y’all know, she has such a sunny disposition that only the most dedicated can manage to stay sour near her. It’s so annoying that you just can’t help to have your spirits lifted. And she’s dedicated, too! You had to see her, struggling with some math book just so she can help cover a subject I don’t even think she’s supposed to teach.

Zig sighed, a smile on his face. “If it isn’t clear enough, my Secret Santa is Emily Harper.”

Emily wiped a few tears off her eyes and ran to hug the man.

“No need to cry.” He whispers on her ear, good-humoured.

“Don’t say all those pretty things about me and ask me not to cry!” She whispers back.

He chuckled. “C’mon, you didn’t even see your present yet.”

She let him go begrudgingly. He beamed at her and handed a small, neatly packed gift. “Careful opening it. It’s fragile.”

The redhead nodded and opened slowly and carefully the shining wrapping paper. It was a copy of the book ‘Out of Africa’, by Karen Blixen.

“Zig, I…” She started to say, but was cut off by him.

“Open it.” The Latino asked of her.

The young woman obeyed, and at the first page another gasp. It was a quote and a signature.

“Le temps nous prive de beaucoup de biens précieux, et, pour finir, il nous prive de tout.

K. Blixen

København, January 15th, 1960”

“I remember you have a collection of signed copies, and that Out of Africa was one of your favourite books.” He says, with a mischievous grin. “So, I called a few people and found a used books store that had that one in stock. It’s from one of the last public appearances by Karen Blixen. It seems that the last owner of this copy knew somebody who knew somebody who scored it for him.”

Emily could do nothing but cry and hug Zig tightly.

While the party was in full swing at Lydia Child, a certain commercial airplane landed in Newark.

Inside, sat a woman in her late 60’s who was currently enjoying a flute of champagne. Her eyes were a chilly, sterile blue, framed by some age markers of someone who did not bother to hide them.

She was rather tall, especially for her age, and combined with the full, puffy blond mane on her head gave her the imposing and sophisticated look of a high-society lady.

A simple diamond necklace, the only piece of jewellery she carried, adorned her black dress. Beige pantyhose and a sensible, also black, heel covered her lean legs.

After landing and baggage reclaim, she did a beeline to the glass doors of the airport, where a fancy, yet non-descript car waited patiently for her.

“You know where we’re going.” She told the driver. “Step on it.”

A man who sat next to her on the backseat chuckled. “You’ll never change, will you, Lois?”

“What do you mean?” She demands.

“You say ‘efficient communication’, but it’s actually you being brash, demanding and indifferent.” He smirks. “Have you ever said thank you in your life?”

Lois laughs as if it was one big joke. “You’re one to tell.”

“Birds of the same feather, I suppose.” He considered. “What are you doing here, anyways?”

“I thought it was pretty obvious.” She said, turning on her cell phone.

The man smirks. “Indeed, let me rephrase. What do you expect to achieve with it?”

“I expect to recover what’s mine. And perhaps knocking some sense into that stupid, empty head.”

Sometime around 10:00 PM, Emily finally got to the entrance door of the Sterlings’ apartment, feeling ready for a good night’s sleep.

The sight she encounter at the kitchen, however, wasn’t very conductive to resting.

“Surprise!” Queenie and Nathan shout, surprising the young redhead. The two of them wore party hats and the whole room was dripping with tacky ‘happy birthday’ décor.

“I’m sorry about the ‘Feliz Cumpleaños’ theme. The store had no ‘Congratulations on your first half-versary at the job’ so we had to improvise.” Queenie said with a laughter.

“But the cake’s legit.” Nathan presented the dessert, the phrase ‘#1 Teach’ was frosted on it. “Done it myself, dark chocolate and coffee beans, hope you like it!”

“Oh my God, this is amazing! Thank you so much!” The youngest beamed and hugged her mother. “And, yeah, Nathan, I love chocolate and coffee beans. It was the cake you baked me for my birthday between Junior and Senior years.”

He laughs, sheepish. “I’m pretty sure I asked the maid to order me one, but I’m glad you liked it then and I’m glad you like it now.”

“Come on, let’s dig in!” Queenie picks up a plate and a knife, ready to carve the cake into shreds.

“No, wait. Let me at least freshen up.” Emily asks. “I’ve been on this dress all day long and I could use a pair of slippers.”

“Sure, honey. I’ll accompany you.” The mother smiled kindly and then pointed the knife at the man. “Do not dare to eat the cake before we’re back.”

He rolled his eyes. “Oh, sure, I’ll eat three kilograms of cake while you’re changing. I’ll even lick the plate clean.”

The older woman shot him a dirty look, but followed her daughter away with no further words. Nathan looked over to the decorated table and saw that Emily had forgotten to take her book bag back to her room.

He picked it up and he was going to take it there for her when a particular volume called upon his attention. It was an old, battered copy of ‘Out of Africa’. The blond took the book out to check it out in close quarters.

It was not a library issue, certainly, and it was not any of his, either. He did not remember any book boxes when Emily and Queenie moved in, so it must be a new purchase.

Opening the volume, he sees the Karen Blixen signature and wonder whether the bookseller was a moron or if Emily had the pretty penny to afford such a luxury.

It was when a small envelope falls out from the book pages. It was, by itself, nothing special, as it was white and only addressed to Emily in scrawny cursive.

Nathan checks the hallway to see if there was anyone coming. Having the coast clear, he opens the stationary.

What he reads puts him on a foul mood. It was a love letter, from Zig to Emily, asking for her forgiveness for his brash behaviour their last encounter and reiterating his intent. He was probably who gave Emily the book, in fact.

Nathan had to admit, the baboon had a few tricks up his sleeve.

Considering the letter was sealed when he found it, he assumes Emily had not found it yet, and therefore he could make it disappear. The two women were yet to emerge from the bedroom; they’d be none the wiser.

It was his first instinct, the blond had to admit. But something contained his hand, a foggy thought he could not make much sense of it, a feeling it would bring only misery if he went on with it.

He decided to put the letter back where he found it.

“Oh, there’s where I left it!” Emily exclaims, entering the kitchen.

“I was about to take it to your room.” The man handed her the bag. “What’s with the vintage copy?”

“Zig gave it to me tonight. I used to collect signed copies, and Out of Africa is one of my favourite books.” She beamed, happy.

“You used to? What happened?” The blond wondered out loud.

The redhead woman sighed. “You kept my books after we divorced.”

“No, I did not.” He shook his head. “The only books we had at home were on my study, and those were mine.”

“Do you remember the shelves by the guest room, on the third floor?” She asks, and he nods his affirmative. “Those were my collection.”

An icy chill ran through the man’s spine. He let Ashley-Amber throw them all away while she was ‘remodelling’ the house. He didn’t even think of checking what was on that particular set of shelves, he just assumed that were assorted titles of no importance other than decorative value, like every other at his parents’ houses.

Nathan had to hand it to himself; he really screwed up with Emily’s life. So much so, he should call the Guinness Book and check if they keep tally of those. He could be sitting on a world record.

Before he could say anything else, they hear a noise at the entrance door. Not dwelling much about it, them both walked out to the living room to check on it.

“Mother!” Nathan exclaims.

Standing by the doorway, Lois Sterling smirks, dangerously. “I am back.”

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