Chapter Text
No one had been crazy about the idea of Canada.
(“It’s not studying abroad if we’re just going up north!” Jeff exclaimed. Shirley and Britta had vehemently agreed.
Pierce wanted to know if ‘Voulez-vous coucher avec moi, ce soir?’ would still work in Quebecois.
“I know it doesn’t seem like it’s another country, but you still need a passport to get in, so it totally counts!” Annie wasn’t sure if the dean’s explanation made the situation better or worse.)
Some of the study group had been worried about taking 14 weeks of their lives to go live in Canada.
Troy had worried about missing the football season. (“Well, Mr. Barnes, following your stellar performance last year, the coaching staff decided that it might be better to redshirt you this year. You know, so the other players will be forced to at least try to score.”)
Pierce expressed concern for all the impressionable, attractive young women in the freshman class, who wouldn’t be able to benefit from his sage wisdom and worldly experience.
(“Pierce, how many freshman girls did you actually stand a chance with last year?”
“I don’t know, Jeffrey: How many did you stand a chance with?” Jeff hadn’t had a good answer to that, and Annie had refused to look up until someone changed the subject.)
Britta had taken in a new shelter cat and didn’t want to leave Mr. Muzzles alone so soon after bringing him home.
(“Um, my roommate’s been talking about maybe getting a cat. Maybe she could take him on a trial run?”
“Oh, Annie, do you think Midge would do that?”
“You have a roommate at your parent’s house?”
“No, Jeff. I have a roommate at my apartment.” That was another statement for which Jeff apparently had no response.)
Abed said he wouldn’t have a problem: He was certain he’d find tons of new material for his movies in Canada. And he was pretty sure his father wouldn’t have a problem either; apparently, falafel was a growth industry up north and Abed could do some on-the-ground research for his dad while he was there.
Jeff insisted the dean provide documentation that all the credits would count toward core courses and not just as electives. And he seemed oddly insistent that if everyone else in the group was going, he would, too.
Annie said she’d have to check with her roommate, but was sure they could find someone to sublet her room while Annie was out of the country.
Shirley was the lone holdout, claiming she couldn’t be away from her boys for that long. They tried reasoning with her.
(“Shirley, this is a once in a lifetime opportunity! And you can call the boys every night.”
“Yeah, and don’t worry about not speaking Canadian. It’s probably not hard to pick up.”
“Britta, calling them won’t be the same as seeing them everyday,” Shirley said, even as she shook her head at Troy.)
They tried appealing to her business sense. (“You can always do market research on brownies in foreign countries.”) They tried bribing her (“Christmas party at your house. Three traditional Christmas carols. And we’ll leave the possibility of Easter dinner open. That’s our final offer.”).
Finally, it was Pierce that got through to her.
(“I can’t leave my boys with their aunt for 14 weeks. She’d never forgive me.”
“Your ex-husband has custodial rights, doesn’t he?”
“Why you got to bring him up? That’s not nice.”
“Why don’t you leave your sons with him? Might make him more reliable with the child support payments in the future if he knew what it takes to handle them on a day to day basis. Might even make him reconsider that woman he left you for, when he sees her interacting with his children on a day-to-day basis. I’m pretty sure that’s why my third wife insisted I have custodial rights after I left her for another woman.”
“Did it work?”
“No. The other woman became my fourth wife.” Pierce was matter of fact. Shirley closed her eyes in frustration, even as Annie eased her large purse away from her; Shirley had proven to be creative when it came to weapons. “But, I didn’t jump straight into marriage again. I made sure my kids were going to get along with Bambi before we got married.”)
***
That was how Annie found herself on a red-eye Air Canada flight to Vancouver the second Friday in September, sitting next to Britta. Troy and Abed were across the aisle, in the center grouping of seats, with Shirley next to them. Pierce and Jeff were on the far side of the plane; Pierce was messing with the window shade, the overhead light and the air vent. Jeff, who was sitting next to the window, looked like he was trying to figure out if he could stuff Pierce in the overhead compartment.
“Greetings, Greendalians! I trust you’re all well this evening and ready to seize the new opportunities you will be presented with shortly.” Professor Whitman tucked one bag in the overhead compartment and a briefcase beneath the seat in front of him before sitting down in the aisle seat next to Shirley.
The study group had been more than a little surprised that Professor Whitman would be accompanying them, especially when they discovered that he would have been teaching their shared anthropology course.
(“What’s an accountant doing teaching anthropology?”
“Now, now, Mr. Winger. There’s no need to get testy. Although, between us boys, your nostrils do this charming little flaring thing. Is that something you practice or just another of your genetic inheritances, you lucky thing?”
“Whitman. Anthropology. Explanation. Now.”
“Fine.” Dean Pelton sighed in a put upon way, his hands fluttering at his sides. “As it happens, Professor Whitman isn’t exactly qualified to teach accounting. He stepped in to teach that class after the regular accounting instructor had an unfortunate accident with a chainsaw, a jar of marmalade, and a replica of a medieval chastity belt. But I can assure you, Professor Whitman has a masters in education, and is entirely qualified to teach anthropology. As far as I know.”)
Britta had already warned Annie she wasn’t comfortable flying, so she was going to try to work on her knitting the entire five hour flight, but she wouldn’t be up to talking. So, once the plane took off, Annie put in her ear buds, turned up the volume on her iPod, and started reading a murder mystery her father had recommended.
***
Annie didn’t realize she’d fallen asleep until she felt Britta shift in the seat next to hers. Blinking sleepily, it took her a full minute to realize Britta probably hadn’t decided to hack off all her hair and grow an Adam's apple in the – Annie glanced down at her watch – two hours the plane had been in the air.
Jeff was intent on scrolling through the music on her iPod, occasionally raising an eyebrow at something he’d seen. Annie wasn’t sure if it was the surprise was because of the Nina Simone, Wilco, George Harrison, or the couple of songs from Audioslave.
She pulled her headphones loose and was greeted by the sound of Jeff humming something. It took her a minute to realize he must have been surprised to see ‘Date My Avatar’ on her playlist.
“My, Britta, what big eyes you have.”
“All the better to see you with, milady.”
If Jeff was going to turn on the charm, Annie was going to need a minute. Maybe two. She yawned as she composed herself. (And commended herself for going with ‘eyes,’ rather than ‘arms’ or ‘hands,’ as she’d briefly considered.)
“What did Britta go?” Annie was proud of herself: She was talking to Jeff, and her voice wasn’t doing that thing where it got high pitched.
“Oh.” Jeff dropped his gaze back to Annie’s iPod. “She, uh, she’s over talking to Shirley.” He sat back a little in the seat. Annie realized for the first time that all she’d seen when she’d woken had been the back of her seat and the ones in front of her – and Jeff, who’d easily taken up 85 percent of her field of vision.
She sat up and looked across the aisle: Troy’s head rested against Abed’s shoulder, and Abed’s head lay atop Troy’s, both sound asleep. Shirley and Britta appeared deep in conversation. And Professor Whitman was having some sort of animated discussion with Pierce. She slumped back into her seat, yawning again.
“How much longer till we land in Vancouver?” Annie asked, wrapping her arms around herself and pulling her legs up on the seat for warmth.
“Better part of three hours, I think,” Jeff said as he looked at his watch.
“You know, I’m sure we could find you an iPod of your own if you really want one.”
“I don’t want one.”
“And yet.” She glanced from his face to the device in his hand. “You seem pretty fascinated by mine.” Annie gave Jeff what she hoped was a teasing smile. The problem with learning how to flirt from novels was the lack of illustrations to go along and demonstrate the difference from a flirty smile, a come-hither look, and what Annie had tried in middle school once, which was sort of squinting her eyes and smiling while pursing her lips. The boy whose attention she’d been trying to get had asked if she’d needed to go to the nurse’s office.
Jeff stared down at her iPod for several seconds, then fixed her with what she had deemed his ‘cross examination’ stare; it was the same one he’d given her before he’d started grilling her in the study room after she’d ratted out Senor Chang to the dean before finals.
“Why didn’t you call?”
“Why didn’t you call?” Annie said, as she fought the urge to look away and instead ran her thumbnail along a seam on her armrest.
“I asked first.”
“So?”
“You kissed me first. That means I get to ask first.”
“That’s a stupid rule. You kissed me longer. Why don’t I get to ask first?”
“Because precedent dictates that the kissee gets to question the kisser first. Why didn’t you call me?”
Annie took a deep breath, blinking before looking down at the hem of her sweatshirt.
“When I was in third grade, I offered to help Toby Conrad practice for the school spelling bee. When we both made it to districts, he bought me a cookie at lunch. When he got knocked out after districts and I moved on to regionals, he stopped talking to me.
When I was in seventh grade, my English teacher offered extra credit to any one who auditioned for and was cast in a series of abbreviated Shakespeare plays. Everyone had to read lines from ‘Romeo and Juliet.’ I was upset because I thought if, by some miracle, I was cast as Juliet, whoever was cast as Romeo would turn it down. Because of me. Brad Douglass heard me say that to a classmate, and told me he’d be honored to be Romeo to my Juliet. I was cast as ‘townsperson three’ in a couple of the comedies and ‘lesser witch-slash-ghoul’ in ‘Macbeth.’ Brad was Mercutio and a doctor, and he never talked to me again during all our rehearsals and the production.
And, well, you know Troy.” Annie tucked her lower lip between her teeth and began to chew on it. She couldn’t meet Jeff’s eyes, but she could feel them focused on the top of her head.
“You thought that because every other guy you’ve ever had even the slightest interest in was a runner-up for jackass of the year that you should just, what? Preemptively ignore me so I couldn’t disappoint you as well?” Jeff sounded - tired. Looking up, Annie was relieved to see he wasn’t angry or laughing. But he had raised one hand and was pinching the bridge of his nose. “I swear to whatever higher power may or may not exist, I have had more stress headaches since I met you than…ever. I never had a stress headache until I met you.”
“Sorry.” She shrugged one shoulder. “Part of the package. Why didn’t you call me?”
“You never called. And generally I don’t do the ignoring in relationships; I’m the ignorer…er. I figured you’d call when you were ready to talk. And then you didn’t.” Jeff’s hand dropped from his face, and he caught Annie’s gaze, placing his hand atop hers where she’d begun to pick as a thread on her jeans; his fingers were warm, and she tried to keep from shivering. She met his eyes, which softened in the way they only ever seemed to do when he looked at her. “I wouldn’t have disappointed you, y’know.”
“It’s not just that.” Annie steeled herself: Adults said things that weren’t always nice but needed to be said. Even if they sounded sad or weird or mean-ish. “It was that it would’ve hurt more if you’d disappointed me than every other guy who ever saw only Type-A Annie.”
***