Aftertaste, noun
Af·ter·taste
: persistence of a sensation (as of flavor or an emotion) after the stimulating agent or experience has gone
There was once a time she was running away from her life, from people, from everything and everyone; running a...
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When I enter Rosalyn's office, I find Lena sitting in one of the chairs and my back immediately stiffens. I've never been here before, at least not because I got into trouble.
Rosalyn goes around the table and points to the chair next to Lena's. "You can sit down, Gabrielle."
I do so, slowly and nervously. "What's going on?" I manage to ask with a lump in my throat. Lena keeps her head down. Did she tell Rosalyn about this morning? Why would she do that?
"I heard there were some problems happening under this roof and I would like to hear your side now," Rosalyn says, addressing me.
"Problems? My side?" I ask, dumbfounded. My heart is racing like crazy. I turn my head to look at Lena for some clue, but I don't find anything.
"Lena brought to my attention that you two had a fight that made her afraid you won't be able to solve out by yourselves, so she's asked me to intervene."
"I, uhm ..." I clamp my mouth shut. "What?" I ask in a faint voice.
"We're just talking here, Gabrielle. I heard Lena's side of the story and I just want to hear yours now."
"What story exactly?" I ask carefully.
"A fight you two had this morning."
I rub my eyebrow, my breath coming out as shaky when I exhale. "I, uhm ... I was in a bad mood and Lena just said some things that didn't sit well with me," I try to explain without going into too much detail because, honestly, I don't think Rosalyn would know what to do with jealous tantrums. Besides, this would probably all sound childish to her, I think. She shouldn't be bothered with this while she has her own problems.
Rosalyn sighs, placing her forearms on the desk as she studies us both with a straight, stern face. "I know it's unfair to ask that people get along with everyone, trust me, in my profession, that would be pretty ironic. But I don't tolerate that under my roof, especially when it comes to violence."
"Violence?" I ask carefully. Is telling someone to back the hell off and leave my boyfriend and me alone considered as violence?
She presses her lips together. "Yes," Rosalyn says. "I don't know what the fight was about, but I don't tolerate being violent to each other. Hitting and scarring someone is considered a crime, actually."
"I'm sorry, what are you talking about? I just told her to leave Alexander and I's relationship alone because she apparently didn't understand he has a girlfriend."
"I'm talking about Lena's face, Gabrielle," Rosalyn says gently as if she's talking to a small child.
I sit up straighter in the chair, looking at her with wide eyes. "Do you think I did that?" I ask, panicking. "I didn't ..." I shake my head. "It's not me who did that." My voice is shaking. I turn to Lena and plead, "Tell her it wasn't me."
