our endless numbered days

Her unexpected letter writing campaign had started out of boredom. Or, more truthfully, though Galinda would never admit it; the act had manifested as a slow building consequence of loneliness. Chatter with Pfannee and Shenshen moved smoothly on a loop throughout the hot summer days, the Amas generating their own buzzing sound to add to the repetition. Despite herself, Galinda had grown quite used to the arguments only her green roomie could provide and had started to miss some of their mutual verbal abrasion. With Elphaba, her opinion on the way of things both big and small always mattered and came out of her head fully formed even when Galinda thought she hadn’t any strong feelings on a given subject. By contrast the questions these girls, whose opulent lives gave way to only the most idle problems, asked were totally inconsequential. She found there were only so many ways she could repeat she liked this or that drape of fabric. At least fashion critique was better than having to discuss the finite list of known boys within their social grasp, who swung in and out between heavily chaperoned gatherings. All useful information, either for her own marital interests or means to leverage a favor out of either of her vacation companions, had run itself dry after the first week and only stale gossip remained.

The room they'd thrown her in was positively vile and gave no further opportunity for respite. Every soft texture or material that was shaped with a rounder, more organic form was coated in some shade of red. It was as though someone had seen the classically idyllic architectural structure of the house itself and decided to try and suggest a bolder, more modern aesthetic vision through renovation of the decor alone, leaving behind a hastily arranged gaudy overlay with a softer interior lying just beneath. Any light in the room bounced off the colors within and gave everything a strange glow. Galinda couldn't contain the sigh that came out every time she turned on the bedside lamp, although she'd at least had the presence of mind to make it sound like one of vague pleasure when Pfanee had eagerly shown her what her parents had done with with this special room in particular, ‘her favorite in the house.’ So although it was a confrontation to merely sit in and was not conducive to literary pursuits in the least, Galinda had taken to writing letters in the chair by the unlit fireplace, turned to face the small desk by the window looking out on the lake so she might chance to see some more natural life.

Her first attempts at reaching new conversations in the outside world began with loosely scrawled out missives to her parents, but it quickly became humiliatingly clear that there was only one other person she actually wanted to be in communication with. Envelopes were found for the more mundane messages to be sent off to her familial home, a pretense for her to begin writing carefully crafted epistles meant for Elphaba. After resolving herself to her actual wants, every true thought came out on the page compulsively and without delay. She included more colorful details in the summaries of her own actions in her letters to Elphaba, of course, but Galinda also surprised herself by how often she would directly ask for the other girl’s input. Soon, the frame of mind she held hunched over a writing desk bled into everyday moments and vice versa. She found herself memorizing the titles of books left out on sunroom tables in case she might like to bring them up to Elphaba later, wondering with each new extravagant meal what dish Elphaba might prefer. She could hold entire conversations with Shenshen and Pfannee while composing a letter to Elphaba in her mind, like a mediation.

Which is precisely what the entire practice had begun to feel like, a calming mental exercise to focus her mind. The letters would never be sent, tucked neatly away the minute the ink dried in the bottom corner of her valise beneath some strategically packed heavier apparel that would go unused in the current weather.

Now it took true effort to try and remain present amongst the chirping conversation of the other two. They were all laid out on rather whimsically carved wooden deck chairs, charming at first glance but with pointed designs on the armrests that dug uncomfortably into the skin, to sun themselves along the edges of the lake. Galinda kept her eyes closed in false repose, idly flicking a fan with a limp wrist and hoping she was guessing the correct moments to murmur in either agreement or descent without the visual cues of proper body language to guide her. Before Pfannee could ask a question so direct it would force a proper full-eyed response, their sterile bubble was punctured by unexpected visitors on the horizon.

“Look! Men!” Shenshen cried out.

“Oz, don't tell me it's the same group from the rowing club. They were a lot of terrible bores,” Galinda said. She lazily ran her feet through the worn pebbles and finer grains of sand that made up their chosen strip of dry land for the day while keeping her eyes resolutely shut.

“I don't know, they're too far away yet but I don't see any training uniforms! What if they’re criminals? Cold-blooded killers, even?” Shenshen asked with rather forced sounding trepidation. The shuffling sounds she produced suggested a certain level of titillation beyond true fear.

“I should hope so, we could do with a little trouble.” Galinda traced her toe amongst the pile until she found a rock large enough to kick.

She could imagine the letter to Elphaba now:

Dear Elphie, I've been murdered! And in such respectable company, too!

“What an imagination you have, honestly!”

It was never exceedingly challenging to amuse Shenshen. Pfannee, who had remained far too silent throughout the present exchange, now chose to break her silence.

“I'm sure they're the familiar types,” she said coyly. Even with her eyes closed Galinda could practically see the way she was biting her lip to try and contain something.

The smug expression must have been too much of a burden to maintain, as Pfannee began to laugh uncontrollably, her form shaking so badly Galinda could feel it radiating out into the armrest of her own deck chair. Before Galinda could decide whether she wanted to flag down an Ama to grab a glass of water for her or whack her with her fan, the figures became close enough to fill out defined shapes and features. Shenshen’s gasp of recognition was finally enough for Galinda to crack one eye open.

As soon as she pointed her head in the right direction, she could make out Elphaba's form walking through the streaming afternoon light towards her. The other two boys and the lumbering mechanical man following her hardly registered. Galinda’s first instinct was utter relief, to the point of practical elation at the arrival of someone who could finally shake up the dull, stuffy summer air. The second, coming on swiftly to overtake the first, was a kind of pure and instinctual panic.

Pfannee was almost falling out of her chair with the strength of her laughter, rocking back and forth as she gasped for air between giggles. As soon as she’d mustered enough breath, she called out to them. “I see you got the message!”

The unbearable tightness Galinda felt pressing down like a second-skin in that moment must have been what it felt like to die, and if it wasn’t she found herself exceedingly grateful she was near a body of water large enough to drown in to capture the authentic experience. Somehow, Pfannee had found her letters and sent them off. Where had Galinda tucked her bag away the last few nights? Surely, she’d left it right where she always did, resting unassumingly against the foot of her bed? She wouldn’t have left anything out on the desk, that would be impossible. A servant, some sort of overly suspicious maid must have gone digging through her bag, to report back on any funny business to the young mistress of the house.

“I did, indeed,” said Elphaba, in her usual clipped and raspy tone. The unexpected visitors had cleared the remainder of the distance between them and the sunbathers; they were now close enough that Galinda found she could count all the freckles lining the bridge of Elphaba’s crooked nose. Never particularly fond of arithmetic, she chose instead to reflect on her failure to properly recreate the exact quality of the voice she’d so truly missed in her own passing recollections.

“No matter how unprompted, and quite frankly unneeded, it may have been…”

After a brief survey Galinda found she couldn’t look at her any longer and angled her stare, taking in the college boys clothed in what they must have identified as their summer best. Avaric looked appropriately sporting in white pants and a navy sailing jacket, while Boq, dressed in the ill-considered tastes of a farmer, looked unreasonably formal with his tie and brown short pants. The glimpse of rigid shoulders in a shabby travelling dress still present in the corner of her vision projected an air of caution. Maybe the letters had frightened her.

“...thank you for the invitation…”

Galinda would have to beg her not to report their contents to Madame Morrible, if she hadn’t already done so. Horrible Morrible probably kept a list of students who had grown an unhealthy fixation on their roommates over the years, and Galinda knew the old hag would relish the opportunity to add her to the numbers. Publicly, if possible. Grommetik was almost certainly here to ensure she didn’t run back to the Pertha Hills to avoid the humiliation.

“....Galinda.”

At the mention of her name, Galinda flinched and returned her eyes to the ground. She would beg later, in private. Her and Elphaba almost certainly had enough of a bond that she could be reasoned with. For all her briskness, Elphaba had never been truly cruel. At least not to her.

“Wrong sender, I’m afraid.”

“Pardon?” Elphaba asked. In her shock it seemed she'd finally learned her manners, her voice softening from its usual cutting precision. With her uncertain eyes, raised shoulders, and thin hands grasping desperately at an out of fashion bag she looked self-conscious and alarmingly out of place. To be sure, Elphaba was out of place in many if not all of Shiz’s locales, but she always carried herself with a certain sense of self possession in public. Now she looked awkward, approaching delicate. Galinda felt that she was the only one who usually got to see her this way, in their dorm after a particularly difficult day or two. It must be excruciating to be stripped down in that way now, in front of all these outsiders.

Despite the awful dread of the present circumstance, some twisted part of Galinda couldn't help but admit that the way Elphaba's dark brows tilted up against her green forehead was somewhat attractive.

“For shame Miss Elphaba, and you’ve always been so clever! Do I really need to spell it out for you?” asked Pfannee, in a mockish impression of the condescending lilt that could only be found bouncing off the walls in the offices of Madame Morrible.

“Ah. I see,” said Elphaba. She shifted her grip on her bag, swinging it over so she could hold it in one hand. It found a resting place amongst the paneling along the side of her modest dress to distort its presence.

“Would you be good enough to explain for those of us with poor eyesight?” Avaric implored. His usual swagger belied an uneasiness his shifting feet could not hide.

“Forgery. Pfannee sent the letter.”

Boq immediately reached out in murmured apology, his hand brushing Elphaba’s elbow, while the others stood around desperately trying not to stare at her slightly hunched green frame. As she watched Pfannee cackle away at her little plan, Galinda almost felt like she could see a glint of something in her eye.

Does she know?

Has her and Elphaba’s unexpected, approaching inexplicable closeness been discovered? Does she sense the way Galinda always keeps a careful eye on her green roommate? The way she leans towards Elphaba's gangly frame whenever they eat together at the cafe? Worse, how lost Galinda has seemed without her presence to seek out in a crowd? This observational habit, had it been mistaken, yes, yes, it had to have been mistaken, for a deeper intimacy?

“Why, you're actually upset!” Shenshen at least had the good sense to sound a little ashamed in her shocked exclamation. Pfannee, however, looked truly delighted to have gotten such a strong response.

Discomfort was clearly written across Galinda's face, she couldn't smooth out her furrowed brow or cool down her ruddy cheeks if she tried. She knew this because she was trying and hadn't felt a lick of difference in her composure despite her efforts.

“You could thank me, you know. You asked for trouble and I've delivered it right to you, promptly, as a good hostess should.”

Pfannee was finally starting to lose some steam, her delivery less colorful, almost certainly at the realization that for all of her huffing and puffing she still wasn’t the most interesting thing to look at. All eyes were on Galinda, and yet she felt the pull of one stare in particular in that moment. Elphaba was assessing her, taking in every sign of upset with an unerring level of focus. The only thing that seemed to bring her out of her trance was Galinda herself daring to lift her head to properly stare back. There was real pain in her eyes, that Galinda knew must be reflected back in her own. Elphaba gave an almost imperceptible nod to her before stomping off up the hill, raggedy bag firmly in hand, toward the house.

Attention shifted from her the minute she took a step away from the gathered party, turning fully onto Galinda’s slim shoulders. The least Galinda could do following the level of ritual humiliation that had rained down upon the poor, brave girl in the past few minutes was to provide ample distraction for her exit. The audience seemed to be relieved to have any excuse to no longer have to face the more direct target of Pfannee’s torture play and sought to comfort the blonde young woman. She felt younger still under their attention, rather like a child being coddled after a nasty spill. Galinda gathered the patience to demurely accept the cooing and gentle petting, from all involved but Shenshen in particular, allowing her inner-self to remain cold to the placating touch until they felt reassured in their efforts to calm her. Seeing the moment of near emotional disaster pass, Boq decided he could aim higher than to simply calm her.

“Come on, Galinda, it can't be all that bad! Can't we make the most of it and enjoy this last bit of freedom as a group before we all have to head back to school?” Boq inquired in a desperate bid to save the entire doomed venture. He was an odd amount of trouble, that one. Always subtly trying to draw disparate individuals into a connected, like-minded whole. Still motivated out of self-interest, Galinda supposed. He hadn't even seemed to notice that Elphaba had left.

Galinda gathered herself up, fan and all, and got up as gracefully as she could on her still shaking knees. “Yes, Boq, now that you mention it it does appear you and Avaric have both grown quite pale since I saw you last. Enjoy the sunshine, will you?”

With that, she turned on her heels and left the cajoling crowd behind her. Right as she reached the crest of the highest hill leading to the main pavilion she swore she heard splashing as she passed the Amas bustling down the way to demand answers, and confirmations of separate housing arrangements, from the male interlopers. Well, maybe the others would all find a way to enjoy themselves, indeed.

Galinda had yet to associate her garish room with comfort, but as her fingers made contact with the neatly tied together stack of letters still tucked away at the bottom of her traveling bag she felt much of the immediate tension leave her body, slumping over the foot of the bed. Pulling herself up enough that she could pull her arm out to actually look over the parcel, she tugged at the string binding it together. One by one, she read through the pile to check for any one message's removal. All were accounted for, although she noted she’d crumbled some of the corners in her haste. She was smoothing the paper over when she heard heavy, if brisk footsteps outside her door. Only one set of hands, save Elphaba’s, would be presumptuous enough to swing open her door without so much as a knock. Seeing as it was highly unlikely the green girl would be in any hurry for a visit, Galinda was fully prepared for the vision of a worried Ama Clutch standing in the entryway as the door swung open.

“Duckie, poor thing, how are your wings?” Ama Clutch cried, rushing forward to sweep Galinda’s loose hair back from her face to cradle her cheeks.

“Ruffled, but still in good working order, I promise.”

There really wasn’t any need to explain what had happened by the lake to her in great detail. Sometimes Galinda wondered if the Amas had formed their own kind of magic, a sort of telepathy needed to suss out the social struggles of their charges. Anything the woman didn’t already know she’d figure out in the next couple of hours after a few well executed interrogations.

Ama Clutch hummed doubtfully at her admittedly weak reassurances. It wasn’t like with the others, Galinda couldn’t put on a little show of contained suffering to be overcome with a couple pats on the head. The old caretaker had known her for too long and too deeply to not see the full extent of her distress. All Galinda could hope for was that her sharp eyes lingered on the skirts and coats strewn about the floor and not the now sloppily re-tied pile of letters burning a hole into the burgundy bedspread.

“Would you like me to go and check on her?” asked Ama Clutch. Even if she had noticed the letters, it appeared she had the propriety not to bring them up. Yet. If she continued such discretion, Galinda would surely have to start setting aside any bonus monies her parents managed to send along to give the woman a bonus to her salary.

Galinda, still nevertheless rattled by the expected intrusion, took a steadying breath before replying. “Yes, I think that would be the thing to do.”

“Good. I already have,” said Ama Clutch, with a definite flare of showmanship. She had the gall to actually look a little cheeky, her hip cocked out just so as she leaned back against the wall with her arms primly crossed over her chest.

“Oh, you nosy, mean, wonderful old woman! Thank you.”

At least there was someone else here besides Galinda to care for Elphaba. The notion provided only minor ease.

“I told her I'd be back with some tea after the long journey. You can take it to her, if you'd like. She's just down the hall,” Ama Clutch gently inquired. No tone she could have taken would have stopped the panic from the lake from coming back in droves. What if the minder had noticed her strange possessiveness towards Elphaba? For all her kindness so far, she was also the only person at the summer house with intimate knowledge of how Galinda acted towards her green roommate behind closed doors.

“No, no. It's alright. She’ll be expecting you anyway,” Galinda replied, dismissively turning her back so she could stoop over and begin correcting the mess that had been her well organized laundry. Ama Clutch headed for the door to be on her way.

“Ama?” Galinda called out softly, before the old woman could make a proper exit. It was impulsive, really.

“Yes?”

“She's alright? Elphaba?”

As if she could be asking after anyone else.

Ama Clutch gave a slight shrug, resigned worry written all over her features. “Can one ever tell with Miss Thropp?”

Galinda could. Can, would, if she weren’t so frightened of what the sight of Elphaba’s hurt face would do to her.

“Goodnight, then.”

“Good night, Miss Galinda. Do try and get some proper rest, we’ll see what we can manage in the morning.”

There would be no resting, but management received an early start. In the silence of her room, Galinda was forced to closely examine the events of the day with a clearer head. Pfannee had only referenced one message being sent, it was unlikely that she knew anything at all about Galinda’s newfound writing practice. Shenshen would be kept more than busy by their new male playmates, and they with her. Ama Clutch, though concerned for both her charges' welfare, had never made any improper insinuations to Galinda directly. And Oz knew the woman enjoyed dolling out her opinions on Galinda’s comings and goings directly. That left Elphaba. The final loose thread of the bunch, dangling painfully in exposed air for daring to think that Galinda would want her back by her side. It would be difficult, but Galinda would have to find a way to protect them both in the coming days without continuing to create a certain implication around their closeness.

Galinda never made it to dinner. She laid back on the bed, still wrapped in the light dress she’d worn throughout the day, and cried. She remained there, undiscovered and shaking, until morning.