pH Balance

Part IV is finally here! Read Part I, Part II and Part III first.

Not even three hours earlier, Duckie and Bex were free to do anything they wanted.They chose to agonise themselves over dinner—a dinner that may have, under different circumstances, been enjoyable.

Instead, it necessitated a game plan, a contingency plan, and a Plan C—just to cover all their bases. 

 About twenty-four hours after Duckie  discovered Bex’s “research project”, he asked his sister to meet him in the common room. 

The Duckworth siblings talked strategy over a game of Scrabble. After laying out the events of the past forty-eight hours, they determined that Bex had somehow found the second half of the map. Kendra suspected Laila was in on it too.

“This dinner you have with Bex tomorrow,” Kendra began.

“Yeah?”

“You realise it’s a fake date, right?”

Duckie sighed. “Yeah. Why else would Bex go from aggressive feminist to nervous schoolgirl in the span of 24 hours?”

“From what I heard, she wasn’t being an aggressive feminist,” Kendra replied. “You were just being an ass, and Bex responded appropriately.” Duckie made a face. “Anyways, Bex and Laila think that you think this is a real date.”

“You’re sure they’re not onto us?”

“Laila is good at many things, but hiding the way she feels is not one of them,” Kendra replied. Duckie knew that firsthand, from the withering glares and leers she’d shot in his direction over the past five years. “If she was more suspicious of us, she’d be acting a lot more cautiously.”

“Alright, Ken, I trust you,” Duckie said, flipping the “X” tile in between his fingers. They spent the next few hours devising a plan: Duckie would distract Bex while Kendra looked around for the map. 

“Laila said she was going to London tomorrow evening to get dinner with her mum,” Kendra said. “I think she’s lying. She’ll probably be rooting about campus somewhere, doing more research. Regardless, she won’t be in her room, where I would be able to catch her in her lie. I’ll do a thorough search of the map there, and see how far they’ve gotten with their research.”

“Alright, I’ll keep Bex distracted with the trademark Duckworth charm,” Duckie replied with a grin. “Just let me know when the coast is clear to head back,”

“I’ve seen you charm all different kinds of people,” Kendra said, “But Bex seems like she can see right through you. Are you sure you’re able to keep the upper hand in this scenario?”

“Bex is the kind of girl who thinks she’s smarter than everyone else,” Duckie began. “And even though she may be smarter than me, we have the upper hand here. All the smarts, insults, and emotional walls she puts up are no match for the fact that we’re onto her.”

“Alright, well, just make sure that she’s not the one charming you”

“There’s no danger of that,” Duckie snorted. Kendra raised her eyebrows. 

“Chase, I know you, remember? And unlike your conscience, I’m not afraid to tell you the truth.” 

“What is the truth, then?” Duckie asked, crossing his arms. “You think I’m in love with her or something?”

“No, you idiot. But your eyes follow her when she comes into the room. Your pupils widen when someone mentions her name. Something about her pushes your buttons.” Kendra played her turn on the Scrabble board. “I don’t care what that something is as long as you’re in control of the situation—not her. I won’t have you losing our family legacy over some girl.”

“I could say the same thing about you,” Duckie replied.

“I have the good sense to know when I’m being manipulated,” Kendra said, “You, on the other hand, are too cocky to see when it’s happening to you.”

The next evening, Duckie sat in the common room. He pretended to read Finnegans Wake while he replayed his conversation with Kendra over in his head. 

I know when I’m being manipulated, Duckie thought to himself. Or, at least I would know, if it ever happened to me. Which it hasn’t. Or has it? Was Kendra right? Had Bex been manipulating him this entire time?  He shook his head and told himself to focus on the task at hand.

Duckie just got off the phone with the fifth-nicest restaurant in town. He could have made a reservation at the first through-fourth nicest restaurants, of course. But you can’t make the mistake of bringing a girl to too fancy a restaurant on your first date. Well, making the mistake once is understandable, especially if you’re only thirteen.  

Duckie’s ideal choice would have been the fourth-nicest restaurant, but it was too close to campus. Duckie needed to keep Bex occupied long enough for Kendra to search her room. 

Duckie flipped a page in the novel, staring at Joyce’s words as they blurred in front of him. He itched his head and realised that his palms and forehead were sweaty, despite the cool temperature of the common room. Was he nervous? Well, the fate of his family’s best kept secret, his grandfather’s dying wish, rested on how well this date went. Obviously it had nothing to do with the date part of the date—which, by the way, was a fake date. 

So, yeah. The stakes were pretty high. A little sweat was normal. Duckie checked his watch: Bex should be down within five minutes.

“What are you so nervous about?” Laila’s voice startled him. Duckie looked up from his book and realised his knee was uncontrollably shaking.

“First date jitters,” Duckie said apologetically. 

“Who’s left at this school that would date your pathetic ass?” As if she didn’t know. Duckie decided to play along. Hisface warped into a smug expression, and he motioned with his eyes behind Laila. She turned around, and Bex stood there in a thin sweater, worn over a summery—but dinner appropriate—dress. She clutched her small white purse tighter as she weathered the fiery look her roommate threw at her, as if Laila would snatch it from her as punishment for her poor taste in boys.

“Bex,” Lalia said through gritted teeth. “Let’s talk about this upstairs.” Duckie had to hand it to them. Their acting was first-class. He wondered why Laila never went out for the school play. 

“Actually,” Duckie said, clearing his throat. “We should get going,” he said, looking at Bex. He wanted to get out of there as soon as possible. The less time he spent under Laila’s withering glare, the smaller the chance that he’d give himself away.

Bex nodded and stepped past Laila, and stood near the couch Duckie was sitting on. He closed his book, brushed some imaginary dirt off his trousers, and stood up next to her.

“Bex, it’s not too late to contract a stomach bug. Or the flu,” Laila said, crossing her arms. “Any disease, really. You could have the plague if you wanted.”

“Laila,” her roommate replied in a warning tone. “I know what I’m doing.” The hell you do, Duckie thought. The two of them thought that they were so smart. He had Bex figured out. He knew her for less than forty-eight hours, but in those two short days, he felt like he really knew her, and going on a date with someone like Duckie was completely out of the question. 

Unless, like today, there was some sort of scheme involved.

Duckie put his hand gently on the middle of Bex’s back and gently guided her to the front door. Laila made a noise somewhere between a spooked horse and a dolphin emptying its blowhole. As he and Bex left the common room, he heard Laila stomp up the stairs.

She’s really doing a disservice to the drama department, Duckie thought as he held open the front door of Phoenix House for Bex. He looked at her like he was seeing her for the first time. Girls loved that. 

In response, Bex smiled awkwardly.

Quite the performance from both of them, really.

It was the perfect summer evening, with a gentle warmth punctuated by an occasional breeze. Duckie spent most of the walk asking Bex about her travels.

“Tell me about your favourite sunrise,” he asked. When Bex responded, the pink in her cheeks deepened—a blush that ebbed and flowed but never left her face the entire night. She made charmingly bad jokes and used her hands to gesticulate wildly as she told stories. The righteous self-confidence she had when the first met was replaced with a comfortable, conversational ease. Every once in a while, she would tease Duckie for being cocky or snobbish or American. But nothing like that day in the common room. There was a sparkle in her eyes that told Duckie he should laugh instead of running for cover.

It was textbook first date behaviour. Which is what kept the voice in the back of Duckie’s head active and alert, whispering to him never to let his guard down. If this was acting, it was scary good. 

Not even Duckie was that good an actor. When you’re charmed by someone like Duckie, you know you’re being charmed. But you go along with it anyways because it makes you feel good, and seen, and wanted. With Bex, he wasn’t sure. She was inconsistent, haphazardly switching between passionate storytelling, self-deprecating jokes, and insulting her date.

Yes, there was the small possibility that she was actually interested in him. But wouldn’t that go against everything she believed in? Then again, who has the ability to control how often and to what extent their face turns red? 

It’s either a biological miracle, or Duckie is as good as pushing Bex’s buttons as he was hers. 

They reached the restaurant, and were seated. As more time passed, Duckie got the feeling that Bex thought he was only here for romance. The conversation shifted to more substantive topics: memories, friendships, family, love. It seemed like neither one of them passed up an opportunity to smile: the place where Bex would eventually grow crow’s feet would crinkle every time Duckie laughed at something she said or when he attempted to pronounce something off the Italian-only menu.

Duckie felt the tension leave his body as he settled further and further into a more comfortable version of himself.

Time slowly pedalled to a stop. 

Things started to change after the server brought out the entrees. Duckie noticed that Bex checked her phone twice in the same five-minute period. After it happened a third time, he asked Bex if everything was okay. She nodded, and took a large gulp of water.

The conversation resumed, and felt similar enough to before. Except Bex would glance at her phone every time it lit up, which rested face-up on the dinner table. 

This had to be about Laila. It had to be. The timing was a little too coincidental. But what could’ve happened? Did Kendra catch her? Was she lost? Did she find where the map led to?

Whatever it was, it wasn’t good. 

They skipped dessert and paid for their meals. Bex, of course, insisted on paying for her half. After leaving their tips, she stood up immediately, ready to leave with a pace unusual for someone who ate a mountain of spaghetti bolognese.

“Wanna stop for ice cream?” Duckie suggested. There was no way he could fit anything else in his stomach, but he wanted to test if Bex would want to prolong the evening, or hurry back.

“I’m rather full—can we go back to the house?” Duckie nodded as he held the door for her again. Scheme or no scheme, he was still a gentleman. While she passed through the doorway, he checked his phone to see if Kendra texted him. Nothing. And if something went wrong on their end, Kendra definitely would have texted him. Then again, service in Phoenix House was notoriously unreliable. Duckie sent his sister a quick message saying that they were leaving the restaurant and Bex was in a great rush to get home. 

As they started back towards Phoenix House, Duckie had to struggle a little bit to keep up with Bex. She wasn’t sprinting but was hiding the fact that she was in a rush. He had to think of a way to slow her down, just in case Kendra needed more time. He asked her to tell her more about Jodhpur, India’s Blue City, the site of her favourite sunset of all time.

As she described the way the blue rooftops changed colour in the light of the sinking sun, he delicately moved his hand so it “accidentally” brushed hers. He wasn’t expecting his fingers to tingle—he did start it, after all. But it’s like even though his mind was fully aware of what was going to happen, his body was unprepared. 

The second their fingers touched, Bex drew her hand away.

“Sorry,” she murmured. He smiled apologetically. Was part of him hoping that she would grab his hand, her cold fingers wrapped around his overheated palm? Yes. But not because he wanted to hold her hand, but because whatever was pulling her back to the house was stronger than his ability to slow her down.

Maybe he wasn’t as good as he thought he was.

Bex looked at her phone again, scowled, and jammed it back in her purse.

“Bex, is everything alright?” Map aise, she looked genuinely stressed. He was concerned for her, as her friend.

“Yes, of course,” she said with a thin smile. Her eyes tried hard to maintain a facade of pleasant neutrality, but he could tell there was something stewing beneath the surface.

If there’s one thing I’m sure of tonight, it’s that she’s lying, thought Duckie.

This Week’s Top 3

• Murakami: Monsterized 👾 – @ the Asian Art Museum. Cool modern art from an interesting guy
• Poor Things 🧠 – don’t look anything up about this movie. Just go see it
• Comté 🧀 – French cheese. The kind I had was from the Rainbow Coop