The Interview

Chapter Eleven

Standing in front of Fiyero's door, two bags of steaming takeaway food in her hands and a backpack full of essential grocery items for his pantry, Glinda didn't quite know what to expect. Although she knew Fiyero better than any of her other friends, this situation was new. Never before had she done something to upset him so terribly. She'd certainly made mistakes in the past that had resulted in hurting or distressing him to various degrees; however, back in those days, they'd always been in it together, talking things through and reassuring each other every step of the way. She had to admit that often it had been her ideas that had ultimately — though entirely inadvertently — caused trouble, but Fiyero had frequently been an active participant, agreeing to her misguided suggestions out of his own free will.

While, viewed from certain angles, her failure to communicate could be considered less severe than the worst of her other blunders, she knew perfectly well that, for Fiyero at least, a total and seemingly inexplicable shut-out constituted betrayal of the highest order. She'd had her reasons, she might argue, but in hindsight, even she found it hard to explain what exactly had made her behave the way she had. All she would be able to offer if asked, was that she'd found it impossible to do otherwise. Needless to say, it was an altogether unsatisfying justification.

She was still standing in that same spot, pondering her options, when the door unexpectedly opened.

"Are you planning on eventually coming in?" Fiyero deadpanned.

His expression was still more serious than usual, but Glinda could tell that he was at least somewhat amused by the perplexed look in her face.

"I smelt the food," he explained, pointing at the slightly fogged up plastic bags. "Shouldn't you know by now that I lie in waiting for hours if I expect anyone to bring a decent meal to this bare man cave?"

Glinda hesitated for a moment, but if Fiyero was going for humour, so could she.

"This place," she declared as she brushed past him, "is not a 'man cave;' it's a desolate hole! Seriously, the only redeeming feature in here is your overly fancy laptop. You'd be better off if you packed it up and escaped to a cosy café with it."

"Except that I wouldn't even be able to pay for those overpriced beverages."

"The library then!"

"No privacy. And if I fall asleep, some asshole is almost guaranteed to steal my stuff, computer and all."

"Fine, you old recluse. Have it your way," Glinda sighed and put down the food. "Do you want to use plates?"

"Souvas? As I ordered?"

"Of course," she shrugged.

Approving, Fiyero bobbed his head.

"No need to waste time, energy and good detergent then. If we use the bags to catch the crumbs, we don't even need to wipe the table."

Although Fiyero was generous with his praise for the food, they talked little about anything else. Under normal circumstances Glinda would have had no reservations bending his ears with stories about her weekend with Elphaba. After all, he was the one who'd more or less set her up with the green woman, and so it was obviously also his duty to bear the consequences. It was hard for her to resist the urge, especially in lieu of a better topic. Still, being tone-deaf was generally not one of her flaws.

When their late lunch was finished and the table cleared of plastic bags and stray morsels, the now familiar feeling of dread returned to Glinda. Keenly aware of the inevitability of the impending confrontation, however, she was almost grateful that the big moment had finally arrived. Moreover, not knowing what to say at all was even more against her nature than was arguing or making big confessions.