Estranged, Chapter 5: Uncertainty

Author's Note:
Events great and small are about to pick up speed, and other familiar faces will be showing up soon!

You may also read this story on FanFiction.net
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Loki observed Rowan as much as he could, noting that her life was filled with contradictions and inefficiency. She had passions, but she did not indulge in them as much as she would like to. She loved to write and cook, but she worked a day job she hated. She didn’t enjoy her roommate’s company, but she wouldn’t evict him. There were so many illogical decisions that she chose to live on a daily basis that were within her power to fix, but she chose not to. Why?

During the second week, it dawned on him that there was a way he could help Rowan get traction to change her situation. The biggest anchor of her stagnation sat on the coffee table when it wasn’t in her hands. If only he could influence her to complete it...

Thursday evening they shared a late dinner. Rowan cooked a meal called Chicken Pot Pie. He thought it was delicious, and made a mental note of how she had made it. James would not be in that night as he had been invited out with friends. After dinner, Loki offered to help her clean up so he’d have a chance to talk with her.

“So, James is out with friends tonight,” he began as he brought their dishes to Rowan at the sink, “Does he ever invite you out as well? I am merely curious.”

“He used to invite me along, at first, but I never went. People stop asking when you always say no.”

“Why did you always decline his offer, if I may ask?”

“He’s tactless, superficial, and ignorant. He dismisses others’ feelings and believes the world revolves around only him. If my only choice of companionship was James, I’d rather be alone.” She vigorously scrubbed at the dirty cookpot, channeling her anger to some good.

“If you despise his company, then why do you tolerate him as a roommate? Your name is on the lease, not his, is that not correct?”

“That is true, yes, but he pays on time, and is...tolerable as a roommate,” she covered her annoyance with a level voice, but the way she attacked a non-existent piece of dirt on a dish betrayed her true feelings.

“If you insist...” Loki thought it best to change the subject rather than press her, though. He had planted the consideration. That would be enough for now. “Rowan, I have been thinking about how I might repay your kindness in allowing me to live here.”

Loki dried dishes that Rowan handed to him. They worked well together, he noticed. It was as if they functioned in tandem, coming to the same realizations and patterns at once. She hadn’t announced her intention or told him what to do in the kitchen—they just did it.

“You’ve been such a help around here already. And your company has made me so—” She cut off her sentence, frozen with embarrassment. “It’s been nice to talk to someone intelligent and interesting for a change,” she said instead, her attention focused on rinsing the same dish three times.

What cause does she have to be nervous?

“I enjoy your company as well, Rowan. You’ve been...” He wasn’t sure what the correct word was, so he elaborated instead, “You’ve been patient, helpful, caring, and enlightening—all unconditionally. You’ve been—”

“A friend,” Rowan ceased her rinsing after she handed the last dish to Loki. “I’m your friend, Loki. And that’s what friends do. They help without question.” She turned to replace some spices in their proper cabinet.

Friendship was a good step, but he wanted more from her. He wanted her to need him. He needed her to need him.

“My friend?” He acted surprised, which was not all that difficult. He hadn’t expected the conversation to go this way exactly. “Why? I cannot imagine what I have done to deserve your friendship.”

“Because you’re worth helping; when we met you talked to me and let me help you. I want to know that you’ll overcome your problems and setbacks. I’ll give you the best advice I have and do what I can if you ask me. I want to—” She paused when she realized he’d finished putting the dishes away and his full attention was on her now. “To see you be happy,” she finished in a meeker tone, embarrassed by her outpour.

Happy. Is that a word I could wear?

“Rowan, assuming our friendship is not one-sided, I would like to ask if I may do something.”

Her nerves visibly jumped at the unexpected question, but she replied calmly, “What might that be?”

“I was wondering if you would let me read your story. You are aware of my fondness for books, and I am curious to know your writing.”

With relief in her voice she continued to tidy resident items on the countertops, making sure all was in its proper place. “Of course. I should have it finished in the next few weeks.”

“I meant as it is now.”

Time to see what this new friendship is made of.

Loki could see her draw in on herself, assuming a defensive position. She gripped the dish towel she’d been using to wipe a counter. Her writing was her life, and he knew it. She replied in a nervous rush, “I don’t know, Loki. It’s not ready. I thought you didn’t care for it before? This is the first you’ve said— Parts of some chapters are still just frameworks and outlines—I don’t work linearly. And a lot of it still needs editing. And—”

“Rowan,” his voice was a placid lake. He halted her anxious avalanche by placing a hand on her shoulder to stop her nervous cleaning. He gently pulled the dish towel from her grip and dropped it on the counter so he could take both of her hands calmly into his. He lowered his head slightly, attempting to look into her eyes, but she would not look up at him. He was treading into unknown territory and would need to step lightly.

“I am aware of how thorough you are with your work. I have watched you write for hours. Do you believe I sit in this room with you each evening only to read? I enjoy your company even when we are silent.” She looked up at him then, and her eyebrows rose.

Had she really not noticed? Perhaps her powers of observation do not extend as far as I had assumed. Could she be her own blind spot?  

He continued, “I respect your diligence, Rowan, but I want you to know that I am interested in reading your book should you wish to share.”

He couldn’t push her, not yet. If I push too soon, she will only push back. I must lead her slowly.

“I don’t know if I’m comfortable with anyone reading it yet,” she said more resolutely, even though her syntax wasn’t. She dropped her eyes with a shuddering exhale. Her hands began to tremble, and she took them back from his grip. She then retreated back a step to put space between them. She was very unsettled indeed. But not unsettled enough to think. Only unsettled enough to think well.

“I thought you might appreciate some feedback.”

“I’m terrible with criticism.” She grabbed a forgotten coffee mug to remedy her fidgeting hands as she debated, but he only waited patiently. “If I let you read it,” she asked cautiously, “will you promise to read it for what it is? An unfinished story?”

“I will do better than that. I promise to hold no expectations while reading it.” He gave her what he thought would be a comforting smile. In truth he could not understand why it was so difficult for her to let him read her work, but he would do what was necessary to gain her trust. He was determined to have it.

She walked past him into the living room area to claim her chair. Loki sat on the couch opposite her as they had done several times the past two weeks when they sat to talk or read quietly. The squat coffee table lay between them. She picked up her notebook from the table and thoughtfully examined its scuffed and scratched exterior.

“Why do you want to read it?” She asked timidly, her confidence hanging in the balance. Her intuition seemed to be at a loss when it came to her own endeavors.

“Why did you write it?” Loki retorted gracefully, redirecting her weak defensiveness into a point of reflection.

“Ideas just come to me, and I write them. I wake up excited to write. I daydream about what my characters would do if they were in my situations or vice-versa. It’s a complex, private world that I live and write in, Loki. I guess I never imagined someone would want to see it even though I’ve always wished someone wanted to. It’s kind of scary to think of letting someone in.”

She is almost ready...

“You could have just as easily left it all in your head if you wanted no one to know of it. You asked me yourself the night we met if I wanted to know what your story was about.”

Now.

He leaned forward and spoke kindly, knowingly, “Why write something if you will not share it?” He pushed her, confident she would submit. He had to have her trust, and that book in his hand would prove it.

Rowan replaced her notebook on the coffee table and pushed it toward Loki. “I’m afraid of what you might think—of it, of me, of everything,” she said in a defeated tone. He picked up the notebook, and she calmly stood to leave the room.

“Where are you going?” he asked after her, surprised. All of his focus had been on this moment, and now she would not be a part of it. He didn’t understand.

She stopped to turn off the overhead light, leaving him with only the lamp. “To bed. I don’t know if you can be, but please be considerate, Loki. You have my life in your hands.” And she left him alone in the living room.

After her exit all he heard aside from the silence in his ears was the low thrum of the refrigerator in the kitchen. The single stand lamp behind the couch offered enough light to read by and cast harsh shadows across the rest of the room.

Alone again.

The hollowness welled up in him as it did religiously when he was alone with his thoughts. Sometimes it receded when he was with others or focused on a task, but he had found no pattern to it yet—its appearance was random, and its origins unknown to him. He did his best to push it away, let it sit in the dark corners of the room rather than in the lighted area around him.

He should have felt triumphant, but instead he felt the tremulous gravity of what had just happened—he did indeed hold her life in his hands. The notebook he held was a collection of her work, her dreams, for he knew not how long. Months? Years? He did not regret pushing her, though. And on into the night he read Rowan’s story with increasing interest.

***********

Rowan’s feelings for Loki had been evolving. She wasn’t sure when exactly she had found herself thinking of him as a closer friend than was believable. Had she really known him for only two weeks? It felt like so much longer than than two short weeks.

This evening aside, she usually felt comfortable opening up to him. He didn’t mind when she rambled on about the proper technique to making certain pie crusts or the way James’s poor grammar annoyed her. She also didn’t mind doing nothing with him. He was content to sit with her in silence, and that was a comfort. Although she hadn’t realized he had been watching her as much as he had admitted. She wasn’t sure what to make of that yet.

It was as if they were old friends or perhaps an “old married couple” as the saying went. The thought of being in a relationship with Loki made her nervous, though. When you wanted so badly to help someone, was it possible to remain only an observer of their needs? Couldn’t she help him more if she were closer to him? A poor counselor she would have made debating such ethical dilemmas.

As a young girl Rowan constantly had a crush on someone, but she usually kept her feelings to herself. The focus of her affections was always an idealized version of the boy, though, so most of her early relationships had been short and very disappointing. The funny guy turned out to be a womanizer, the artist was too insecure, and the skater was an inconsiderate jerk. Once she realized that she was setting herself up for failure, she tried to appreciate others more for who they were rather than what she hoped they would be. But it was very difficult when you saw the potential in others being wasted.

Her last relationship had been a short one during college with a man she met through an acquaintance. At first he'd seemed like a good match for her—he enjoyed reading fiction,  liked watching quirky movies, collected swords and other exotic weapons, and affected a protective and caring nature toward her. Yet they became too close too quickly for her comfort, and his protective bent turned into suspicious paranoia. She ended the relationship after a few months when she realized he was ready to propose to her. What they had become was far from what she wanted in a life-long mate. The entire experience left her gun shy, resulting in her solitude for the past 6 years.

She had never gone so long alone before. And for a while it was nice to stretch her independent legs and discover her love for cooking, writing, and learning in general, but now she only felt like one half of a whole. Her natural skills had been languishing, but Loki had reawakened her passion for using them. She was proud of her ability to balance her intuition and logic, but everything seemed to go haywire around him. And the scary part was that it seemed right. Something about him urged her to be nothing less than her true self around him. And she hoped he felt the same even if she never heard him admit it; she hadn’t caught him in a lie yet, though. Had the man ever confided in anyone before?

However, Rowan felt as though she had been run through a wringer tonight. How had she gone from a relaxing dinner to absolute fear? She laid on her bed for a while, not caring if she fell asleep in her clothes. She was terrified that she had handed over her notebook to Loki. It hadn’t felt wrong, exactly, just terrifying. It had been so long since she had stepped outside her comfort zone. From the time dinner finished her heart had stationed itself in her throat. He had known just what to say to unsettle her, and she wished she could push the feeling away. But all she could do was wallow in it.

Why did this have to happen on a Thursday? I’ll wonder all day tomorrow what he’s thinking as he reads my writing. MY writing. My characters, my lives. I created them, and they have created much of myself in turn. He won’t understand that aspect...will he? Why did I give it to him? She wasn’t sure what he would make of her writing, and the anxiety brought her close to tears before sleep took over.

Rowan cursed her extremely uneventful Friday at Coastal Shore Interiors. She had hoped for a busy day to take her mind from the knowledge that her book was in Loki’s possession. And her story was now a part of someone else’s world, not just hers. Sharing her story should have excited her, but it made her nervous to know that Loki wanted to read it. A great pit laid in her stomach all day long until 5 o’clock came. She decided to head to the roof for a few minutes just to relax and collect her thoughts before she went home to Loki’s assessment.

When she stepped out onto the roof, she was shocked to find Loki standing there waiting for her.

“I knew you would come up here, so I decided to meet you rather than wait for your return home.”

“I would have liked a little time to collect myself...” There he goes, unsettling me again. I know that he does it on purpose, but...

But she couldn’t stop him. She didn’t want to stop him. He was changing things she knew needed changing, but the entire process was too disorienting to form a true opinion yet. Was this a good change or a bad one?

“I am reminded of a night two weeks ago when I felt much of the same. I have now caught you unawares, so we are even.” He smiled, and she felt her nerves melt. How did he do that to her?

They both took a seat on the ledge, the setting sun behind them. She couldn’t help but look at him in a different light even before he’d given any comment. He had read her rough, unfinished work. He had seen into her imaginings and plotlines. He had been there, inside her world. He’d seen the imagery and metaphor, the personalities and possibilities.

And he had come back to her with a smile. That was a very promising sign.

“Well, don’t make me wait any longer. What did you think?”

“It is not the style of fiction I typically indulge in, but it has much potential. Your characters feel very real and your insight is genuine. The main characters are very much aspects of yourself.”

Rowan’s heart beamed. He did understand! She tried to contain her elation, but failed when she spoke more excitedly than she had intended, “I’m so glad you noticed that! I was worried you might not know enough about me to understand, but—.”

“But I told you that I have watched you, so of course I understand.” His smile was warm, and if they had not been sitting on a roof ledge she would have reached out to hug him.

Someone finally understood her. It was a small thing to understand a connection between a piece of work and its author, but it was a small thing that could be built upon.

And now for the hard part. I should get it over with.

“Did you have any other opinions? Or...suggestions?”

“Actually, I think your story has greater potential than you realize. Once you complete the final chapters, all it requires is a small amount of editing to polish the overall feel. Why have you not marketed your shorter self-published works on a greater scale? Or perhaps pursued a larger publisher to reach more readers?”

How did he know anything about—? But she knew the answer to that question....Internet. Why do I keep falling for that? Any intelligent person can look something up. Fear began to creep into her core again. Last night’s defensive terror gripped her from within.

“I’ve tried,” she lied poorly. “And I don’t have an agent so I can’t even begin to think about approaching a large publisher.”

“Then secure an agent to deal with them on your behalf.” His explanation made it sound as if she should have thought to do it ages ago.

“But— But I don’t know how to do that!” Her irritation was reaching a tipping point, but he continued.

“What did you do last week when you bought an unknown vegetable at the market on a whim?”

“I looked up how to prepare it. But cooking is so simple. I don’t know anything about how to deal with an agent—”

“Was cooking always so easy? You can research anything, Rowan. And you can ask others for their experiences.”

“But what if I get into a poor deal?”

“Only make a deal that you agree with completely.”

“But what if I keep getting rejected from publishers?”

“What does an infant do when they want to walk?”

“What? I don’t know!”  She balked, looking away from him in frustration, but he did not speak. He waited patiently for her to come around. It took a few moments for her to settle, but she finally realized what he was trying to do for her, and she proceeded humbly. “They just keep trying?”

“Yes. Stop making excuses for yourself and take action if you wish to move forward. All is unknown until you step into it. Failure can happen. Learn from it and move on.” His voice firmed, and he looked a little frustrated himself, but not at Rowan. Perhaps he was reminded of his own failures.

For a moment silence held, waiting patiently for the two of them to get on with their conversation.

“There is another proposition I wish to make, if you would consider it objectively.”

Her skeptical voice chimed in this time in irritation, but she ignored it. No! Every time he—!

“Okay.”

“Let me be your editor.”

Her eyebrows climbed. “Are you serious?” He can’t be serious!

He continued before she had a chance to talk him out of it. “Hear me, Rowan. You need a second set of eyes to correct mistakes you might miss. And I possess a perspective outside of your inner world. You need to know that your story looks as you intend.”

She crossed her arms, holding herself in before she let out a long sigh. “You’ve got a good point. But editing can be difficult. And you’ll have to work with me. I have the last say.”

“I am willing to undertake this project, Rowan. I would not have suggested it otherwise.”

“And there’s something else. You’ll become a part of it, too. More than just reading it would do. It won’t just be mine anymore.” The thought saddened her, but she knew it would have come sooner or later.

“That is what stories are meant for, are they not?” He smiled knowingly, a sage imparting his wisdom.

She felt awkward that the tables had turned once she handed over her notebook. Until then she had been the one to offer probing questions and suggest ideas. She had been the stable one. But now Loki was pushing her and offering his help to enable the actions she was hesitant to take. She never knew she could feel so vulnerable. She never realized she stood on the cusp of achieving everything she wanted.