“Are you getting a move on or what?” I ask Ali as she’s slowly making her way through the apartment.
“I’m moving, I’m moving. Why you’re insistent on driving me, I don’t know,” she replies, pulling her pair of suitcases behind her.
I give her a look as she approaches, “Because, oh enigmatic they, if I let you go on your own, I won’t have a car for the next two months.”
She shakes her head at me. “You could at least help me move these things,” she mutters as she approaches, dragging her pair of bags behind her.
I smile a sarcastic smile at my roommate for the foreseeable future, at least until either she and Jase decide to move in together or until one of us gets a Maestro position elsewhere. “Right. Remember, if anyone’s looking for me who isn’t my advisee, I’m working on my thesis on one of the family yachts.”
“And I don’t know which one, yes, I remember,” I insist, “Now hurry up.” Still takes what feels like an eternity to herd Ali down into our car. I unlock it and open the trunk for her, but I don’t help her with her bags. I know she’s going to be gone for a couple months, but still, she has to learn how to pack better someday. Or get buff enough to lift those bags without complaining so much. Getting in the driver’s seat, I check my phone. The flight is still on time. Not Ali’s flight, she’s in charge of keeping track of that flight’s schedule. Therese’s. She’d asked me to meet her at the airport, and did so remarkably politely, at least for Ter. I put the address into my phone, turn up the volume, and plug it in. “Are you all done back there?” I ask loudly out the window.
Rather than reply, I hear Ali slam the trunk down. Taking a deep breath, I take a moment to relax before we get on the road. It’s not that driving is stressful, I actually find it quite relaxing, but some driver’s can be frustrating and, knowing the roads between here and the airport, there’s going to be construction and traffic galore. Ali clambers in through the passenger’s side door. “Alright, the flight’s looking like it’ll be on time,” she says to me, “Let’s get going.”
I turn the car on and begin the drive across the city towards the international airport. The lie Ali wants me to sell isn’t entirely false. She is heading over to Europe and, at least until the convention starts in earnest, she will be essentially incommunicado like she were on one of her family’s yachts. But I know her better than to think that. Especially considering the timing of her and Therese’s flights. That can’t be a coincidence. I also know better than to ask. The car in front of me is driving about three miles an hour. Which wouldn’t be a problem if there wasn’t someone cruising in the passing lane. I slide over into the passing lane and start tailgating the driver in it. “You’re all set for the convention, too?” I ask Ali to try to get my mind off of the asshole who doesn’t understand common courtesy on a two lane throughway.
“Should be. Do you think I could convince Jase to come out for some of it?” she asks me.
If I were more focused on the conversation, I could’ve prevented myself from bursting out laughing. “Ali, dear, you could convince that boy to take a quick trip into an active volcano,” I tell her to explain the laugh.
“Are you comparing the Principal Mysticists Convention to an active volcano?” she asks.
There’s a gap between the back corner of the slow-ass car in the passing lane and the front bumper of the even slightly slower car in the right lane. It’s just wide enough for a car to fit through. “You’re right,” I admit with a smirk, judging the timing as I slow down slightly. Need to be able to accelerate through the gap. “That’s unfair to the volcano, it’s much less deadly.” The gap grows even slightly wider. Wide enough to account for any slight errors on either of their parts because of fear or irritation.
Ali starts to chuckle. I wait until Ali is distracted by her laugh before I speed up and dart through that barely wider than a car sized gap. The car I cut in front of honks at me. Ali stops laughing. “Did you intentionally time that so I wouldn’t notice?” she asks, not quite as irritated as the slow-poke I’m leaving in the dust.
I don’t answer her directly. “You’re screaming can be distracting. And fucking irritating.” I inform her as I speed down the road towards the airport, “And that gap was too small for me to compartmentalize away that nonsense.” I shrug. Taking a breath I look at the beautiful open road ahead of me. At least, free of morons who don’t know how to drive correctly. And after that point, the drive was pretty smooth going. A few slow people I had to pass and inform of their speed deficiency, but other than that, nothing too troublesome. Ali only started to be upset once or twice. She does that, I think she’s a bit of a worrier when I’m driving. No clue why, I always have things wholly under control.
Pulling up at the front of the airport, in front of the departures for the airline, I give Ali a look. “Are you sure you’re alright?” I ask, earnestly.
Ali smiles. “Not really,” she admits, “But I will be. How’s your thesis going?”
“Terribly, yours?”
She chuckles as she opens her door. “I’ve at least started my research to figure out my topic, unlike some people I know,” she jokes.
I joke right back, “It’s rude to talk about Ike while he’s stuck on the other side of the world.” I pop the trunk for her.
“I’ll tell him you said that,” Ali said between chuckles as she climbed out and heads around back to pull her bags out of the car. I check my phone. Ter should have just arrived. Indeed, the tracker says the plane just landed. I step out of the car to say goodbye. “I don’t want Jase to come bothering me, so try to remember to call him,” I say with a smile.
“Of course, Mom,” she says, “And try to keep the apartment relatively clean.”
“No promises,” I shoot back. Then, more seriously, I add, “Have a safe trip.”
She nods. “I will. Be careful.”
“Always,” I say, then I climb back into our car. She shuts the trunk and starts to make her way into the airport. I wait until she makes it inside before I begin to drive off. Driving slowly around the loop of the airport, I wait for the unknown number to call me. It takes until I’m halfway through the drive back around the airport, heading towards arrivals. I answer the call and put it on speaker. “Therese?” I ask.
“Heading out,” she says, “You here?”
“Just dropped Ali off. Any idea which door you’ll be exiting?”
There is a brief pause. “Six, but I’ll be out before you. Find a place and I can come to you.”
“I’ll go to six,” I reply, “Give you time to deal with Ali.”
Another pause. Maybe I was wrong about the timing, but I doubt it. “See you there,” she says and hangs up. Keeping that obnoxious air of mystery she likes. I drive around, weaving through the traffic to make it to door number six, mostly just to prove Ter wrong. But, as a space by door six finally opens up for me to pull in, I can see Ter standing with a backpack, waiting. She nods to me and approaches before I pull into the space and waste both our time. I unlock the door for her. She climbs in. “Where are we going?” I ask.
Rather than say anything, she types in an address on my phone. I was pretty sure the phone was locked, but then again, it’s Ter. She definitely knows my passcode. She probably knows everyone’s passcodes. It’s an address in the heart of DC. “Everything good?” she asks blankly.
“Fine,” I reply, “I assume you talked with Ali on the way out, so you know whatever she’s hiding from me?”
“Not exactly, but yes,” she replies, then does not elaborate. Sometimes I forget how weirdly detached Therese can be. Her blank stare remains unchanged as I weave back out through traffic. Ali would’ve been terrified but Ter? She seems barely present.
“Where’re we headed?” she asks.
“An office,” Ter answers. Then after a pause, she asks, “Why are Alina’s grades slipping?”
I shake my head. “A B hardly counts as slipping,” I say, “And is that why you’re here?”
“B-Minus. And no, my summer is too busy to make travel plans for a phone call discussion. Now why?”
I sigh. “She’s been too focused on her thesis, trying to speed through the Magisterhood,” I admit. “Why is your summer so busy?”
“Because I can’t be anywhere I am,” she answers the question. I can’t tell if she’s being intentionally obtuse or just her normal levels of frustratingly vague. Glancing over at her, I realize that doesn’t exactly help. She’s staring forwards, her face utterly expressionless.
“So, do you want me to park somewhere once we arrive at this office, or?” I trail off.
Ter shakes her head. “Just drop me off,” she says.
“And where and when should I pick you up?” I press, trying to get more information out of her.
I can feel Ter turn to stare at me. “You won’t,” she says coldly.
A slightly concerning statement, but it is in the city. Assuming she isn’t going anywhere else, the metro and bus systems are solid enough to take her most places, I suppose. “You aren’t going to pop up in my apartment in the middle of the night?” I wonder aloud, trying to make it sound like a joke.
“I have business elsewhere,” Ter says, an unsettling smile placed on her face intentionally, as though she knows her previous statement concerned me. Of course she did.
“Any other wisdom you want to impart on me, or did you just not want to take the subway from the airport?” I ask, irritated at the young woman. I mean, she’s basically treating me like an uber driver, and we were almost practically friends just a year and a half ago.
Ter’s false creepy smile drops, and she looks ahead once more. “No wisdom. Just a request. Greatest Maestro Jonkers will be stopping by Great Maestro Stevens-Williamson’s office today. After dropping me off, would you mind heading there and telling her that I said one: she is welcome; and two: I expect the files to be on my desk in Nashville when I return at the end of the summer.”
“What files?” I ask as I veer off the highway and onto the city streets of DC.
She turns to face me, her face entirely unmoving. After a moment, she asks, “Do you really want to know?”
I think she’s asking it earnestly. So I think about the answer before I just reactionarily say yes. Because if I know, that risks me becoming embroiled in the politics of everything. Right now, I am tangentially involved. Living with Ali means that will be the case for the next few years. But delivering a message for Ter is like drinking with a congressional staffer. Meaningless politically, you just happened to be in the right place and at the wrong time. Knowing what Ter is doing, that would mean she’d see me as part of the situation, which would mean she’d draw me into it. I sigh as I pull up in front of the tall office building that Ter had directed me to. “Don’t tell me,” I say, “Just try not to get me killed.”
“I won’t,” Ter replies, opening the car door and starting to step outside, “I still need you for at least a couple of years.” I resist the urge to laugh. To anyone who didn’t know her better, that might have sounded like a joke. I do know her though. And I know she’s being mostly serious. I put the Villa’s address into my GPS and, with a final nod goodbye after Ter closes the door, I speed off. Evidently to deliver a message before I get to relax and focus on my research.
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