by EL James
“Anastasia,” he answers immediately.
“Hi,” I murmur shyly.
“I have to return to Seattle. Something’s come up. I am on my way to Hilton Head now. Please apologize to your mother – I can’t make dinner.” He sounds very businesslike.
“Nothing serious, I hope?”
“I have a situation which I have to deal with. I’ll see you Friday. I’ll send Taylor to collect you from the airport if I can’t come myself.” He sounds cold. Angry even. But for the first time, I don’t immediately think it’s me.
“Okay. I hope you sort out your situation. Have a safe flight.”
“You too, baby,” he breathes, and with those words, my Christian is back briefly. Then he hangs up.
Oh no. The last ‘situation’ he had was my virginity . Jeez, I hope it’s nothing like that.
I gaze at my mom. Her earlier jubilation has metamorphosed into concern.
“It’s Christian, he’s had to go back to Seattle. He apologizes.”
“Oh! That’s a shame, darling. We can still have our barbecue, and now we have something to celebrate – your new job! You have to tell me all about it.” It’s late afternoon, and Mom and I are lying beside the pool. My mother has relaxed to the point where she is literally horizontal now that Mr. Megabucks is not coming to dinner. As I lie in the sun, endeavoring to lose the pale, I think about yesterday evening and breakfast today. I think about Christian, and my ridiculous grin refuses to subside. It keeps creeping across my face, unbidden and disconcerting, as I recall our various conversations and what we did… what he did.
There seems to be tidal shift in Christian’s attitude. He denies it but – he admits he’s trying for more. What could have changed? What has altered since he sent his long email and when I saw him yesterday? What has he done? I sit up suddenly, almost spilling my Dr. Pepper. He had dinner with… her. Elena.
Holy Fuck!
My scalp prickles at the realization. Did she say something to him? Oh… to have been a fly on the wall during their dinner. I could have landed in her soup or on her wine glass and choked her.
“What is it, Ana, honey?” Mom asks, startled from her torpor.
“I’m just having a moment, Mom. What time is it?”
“About 6:30 p.m., darling.”
Hmm… he won’t have landed yet. Can I ask him? Should I ask him? Or perhaps she has nothing to do with it. I fervently hope so. What did I say in my sleep? Crap… some unguarded remark while dreaming about him, I bet? Whatever it is, or was, I hope the sea of change is coming from within him and not because of her.
I am sweltering in this damned heat. I need another dip in the pool.
As I get ready for bed, I switch on my computer. I have heard nothing from Christian.
Not even a word that he’s arrived safely.
From: Anastasia Steele
Subject: Safe Arrival?
Date: June 2 2011 22:32 EST
To: Christian Grey
Dear Sir
Please let me know that you have arrived safely. I am starting to worry. Thinking of you.
Your Ana. x
Three minutes later, I hear the ping from my email in-box.
From: Christian Grey
Subject: Sorry
Date: June 2 2011 19:36
To: Anastasia Steele
Dear Miss Steele
I have arrived safely, and please accept my apologies for not letting you know. I don’t want to cause you any worry, it’s heart warming to know that you care for me. I am thinking of you too and as ever looking forward to seeing you tomorrow.
Christian Grey
CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings Inc.
I sigh, Christian is back to formality.
From: Anastasia Steele
Subject: The Situation
Date: June 2 2011 22:40 EST
To: Christian Grey
Dear Mr. Grey
I think it is very evident that I care for you deeply. How could you doubt that?
I hope your ‘situation’ is in hand.
Your Ana x
PS: Are you going to tell me what I said in my sleep?
From: Christian Grey
Subject: Pleading the Fifth
Date: June 2 2011 19:45
To: Anastasia Steele
Dear Miss Steele
I like very much that you care for me. The ‘situation’ here is not yet resolved.
With regard to your PS: The answer is - No.
Christian Grey
CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings Inc.
From: Anastasia Steele
Subject: Pleading Insanity
Date: June 2 2011 22:48 EST
To: Christian Grey
I hope it was amusing. But you should know I cannot accept any responsibility for what comes out of my mouth when I am unconscious. In fact – you probably misheard me.
A man of your advanced years is surely a little deaf.
From: Christian Grey
Subject: Pleading Guilty
Date: June 2 2011 19:52
To: Anastasia Steele
Dear Miss Steele
Sorry, could you speak up? I can’t hear you.
Christian Grey
CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings Inc.
From: Anastasia Steele
Subject: Pleading Insanity Again
Date: June 2 2011 22:54 EST
To: Christian Grey
You are driving me crazy.
From: Christian Grey
Subject: I hope so…
Date: June 2 2011 19:59
To: Anastasia Steele
Dear Miss Steele
I intend to do exactly that on Friday evening. Looking forward to it
;)
Christian Grey
CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings Inc.
From: Anastasia Steele
Subject: Grrrrrr
Date: June 2 2011 23:02 EST
To: Christian Grey
I am officially pissed at you.
Goodnight.
Miss A. R. Steele
From: Christian Grey
Subject: Wild Cat
Date: June 2 2011 20:05
To: Anastasia Steele
Are you growling at me Miss Steele?
I possess a cat of my own for growlers.
Christian Grey
CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings Inc.
Cat of his own? I’ve never seen a cat in his apartment. No, I am not going to answer him.
Oh, he can be so exasperating sometimes. Fifty shades of exasperating. I clamber into bed and lie glaring at the ceiling as my eyes adjust to the dark. I hear another ping from my computer. I am not going to look. No definitely not. No, I am not going to look. Gah!
Like the fool I am, I cannot resist the lure of Christian Grey’s words.
From: Christian Grey
Subject: What you said in your sleep
Date: June 2 2011 20:20
To: Anastasia Steele
Anastasia
I’d rather hear you say the words that you uttered in your sleep when you’re conscious, that’s why I won’t tell you. Go to sleep. You’ll need to be rested with what I have in mind for you tomorrow.
Christian Grey
CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings Inc.
Oh no… What have I said? It’s as bad as I think, I’m sure.
My mother hugs me tightly.
“Follow your heart, darling, and please, please – try not to over-think things. Relax and enjoy yourself. You are so young, sweetheart. You have so much of life to experience yet, just let it happen. You deserve the best of everything.” Her heartfelt words are comforting whispered in my ear. She kisses my hair.
“Oh, Mom.” Hot, unwelcome tears prick my eyes as I cling to her.
“Darling, you know what they say. You have to kiss a lot of frogs before you find your prince.”
I give her a lopsided, bittersweet smile.
“I think I’ve kissed a prince, Mom. I hope h
e doesn’t turn into a frog.” She gives me her most endearing-motherly-absolute-unconditional-love smile, and I marvel at the love I feel for this woman as we hug again.
“Ana – they’re calling your flight,” Bob’s voice is anxious.
“Will you visit, Mom?”
“Of course darling – soon. Love you.”
“Me too.”
Her eyes are red with unshed tears as she releases me. I hate leaving her. I hug Bob, and turning, head to the gate – I do not have time for the first class lounge today. I will myself not to glance back. But I do… and Bob is holding my mom, and tears are streaming
down her face. I can no longer hold mine back. I put my head down and proceed to the gate, keeping my eyes on the shiny, white floor, blurred through my watery tears.
Once on board, in the luxury of first class, I curl up in my seat and try to compose myself. It is always painful to wrench myself away from Mom… she is scatty, disorganized, but newly insightful, and she loves me. Unconditional love – what every child deserves from its parents. I frown at my wayward thoughts, and pulling out my BlackBerry, stare at it despondently.
What does Christian know of love? Seems he didn’t get the unconditional love he was entitled to during his very early years. My heart twists, and my mother’s words waft like a zephyr through my mind: Yes, Ana. Hell – what do you need? – a neon sign flashing on his forehead? She thinks Christian loves me, but then she’s my mother, of course she’d think that. She thinks I deserve the best of everything. I frown. It’s true, and in a moment of startling clarity, I see it. It’s very simple: I want his love. I need Christian Grey to love me.
This is why I am so reticent about our relationship – because on some basic, fundamental level, I recognize within me a deep-seated compulsion to be loved and cherished.
And because of his fifty shades – I am holding myself back. The BDSM is a distraction from the real issue. The sex is amazing, he’s wealthy, he’s beautiful, but this is all meaningless without his love, and the real heart-fail is that I don’t know if he’s capable of love. He doesn’t even love himself. I recall his self-loathing, her love being the only form he found – acceptable. Punished – whipped, beaten, whatever their relationship entailed –
he feels undeserving of love. Why does he feel like that? How can he feel like that? His words haunt me: ‘It’s very hard to grow up in a perfect family when you’re not perfect.’
I close my eyes, imagining his pain, and I can’t begin to comprehend it. I shudder as I remember that I may have divulged too much. What have I confessed to Christian in my sleep? What secrets have I revealed?
I stare at the BlackBerry in the vague hope that it will give me some answers. Rather unsurprisingly, it is not very forthcoming. As we haven’t taken off yet, I decide to email my Fifty Shades.
From: Anastasia Steele
Subject: Homeward Bound
Date: June 3 2011 12:53 EST
To: Christian Grey
Dear Mr. Grey
I am once again ensconced in first class, for which I thank you. I am counting the minutes until I see you this evening, and perhaps torturing the truth out of you about my nocturnal admissions.
Your Ana x
From: Christian Grey
Subject: Homeward Bound
Date: June 3 2011 09:58
To: Anastasia Steele
Anastasia, I look forward to seeing you.
Christian Grey
CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings Inc.
His response makes me frown. It sounds clipped and formal, not his usual witty, pithy style.
From: Anastasia Steele
Subject: Homeward Bound
Date: June 3 2011 13:01 EST
To: Christian Grey
Dearest Mr. Grey
I hope everything is okay re ‘the situation.’ The tone of your email is worrying.
Ana x
From: Christian Grey
Subject: Homeward Bound
Date: June 3 2011 10:04
To: Anastasia Steele
Anastasia
The situation could be better. Have you taken off yet? If so you should not be emailing.
You are putting yourself at risk, in direct contravention of the rule regarding your personal safety. I meant what I said about punishments.
Christian Grey
CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings Inc.
Crap. Okay. Jeez. What is eating him? Perhaps ‘the situation’? Maybe Taylor’s gone AWOL, maybe he’s dropped a few million on the stock market – whatever the reason.
From: Anastasia Steele
Subject: Over-Reaction
Date: June 3 2011 13:06 EST
To: Christian Grey
Dear Mr. Grumpy
The aircraft doors are still open. We are delayed but only by ten minutes. My welfare and that of the passengers around me is vouchsafed. You may stow your twitchy palm
for now.
Miss Steele
From: Christian Grey
Subject: Apologies - Twitchy Palm Stowed
Date: June 3 2011 10:08
To: Anastasia Steele
I miss you and your smart mouth Miss Steele.
I want you safely home.
Christian Grey
CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings Inc.
From: Anastasia Steele
Subject: Apology Accepted
Date: June 3 2011 13:10 EST
To: Christian Grey
They are shutting the doors. You won’t hear another peep from me, especially given your deafness.
Laters.
Ana x
I switch off the BlackBerry, unable to shake my anxiety. Something is up with Christian.
Perhaps ‘the situation’ is out of hand. I sit back, glancing up at the locker where my bags are stowed. I managed this morning, with my mother’s help, to buy Christian a small gift to say thank you for first class and for the gliding. I smile at the memory of the soaring –
that was something else. I don’t know yet if I’ll give my silly gift to him. He might think it’s childish – and if he’s in a strange mood, maybe not. I am both eager to return and apprehensive of what awaits me at my journey’s end. As I mentally flick through all the scenarios that could be ‘the situation’, I become aware that once again the only empty seat is beside me. I shake my head as the thought crosses my mind that Christian might have purchased the adjacent seat so that I couldn’t talk to anyone. I dismiss the idea as ridiculous – no one could be that controlling, that jealous, surely. I close my eyes as the plane taxis towards the runway.
I emerge into the Sea-Tac arrivals terminal eight hours later to find Taylor waiting and holding up a board that reads Miss A Steele. Honestly! But it’s good to see him.
“Hello, Taylor.”
“Miss Steele,” he greets me formally, but I see a hint of smile in his sharp brown eyes.
He looks his usual immaculate self – smart charcoal suit, white shirt, and charcoal tie.
“I do know what you look like Taylor, you don’t need a board, and I do wish you’d call me, Ana.”
“Ana. Can I take your bags, please?”
“No, I can manage. Thank you.”
His lips tighten perceptibly.
“But, if you’d be more comfortable taking them,” I stammer.
“Thank you.” He grabs my backpack and my newly acquired wheelie case for the clothes my mother has bought me. “This way, ma’am.” I sigh. He’s so polite. I remember, though I would like to erase it from my memory, that this man has bought me underwear. In fact – and the thought unsettles me – he’s the only man who’s ever bought me underwear. Even Ray’s never had to endure that hardship.
We walk in silence to the black Audi SUV outside in the airport parking lot, and he holds the door open for me. I clamber in, wondering if wearing such a short skirt for the return to Seattle was a good idea. It was cool and welcome in Georgia. Here I feel exposed. Once Taylor has stowed my bags in the trunk, we s
et off for Escala.
The journey is slow, caught up in rush hour traffic. Taylor keeps his eyes on the road ahead. Taciturn does not begin to describe him.
I can bear the silence no longer.
“How’s Christian, Taylor?”
“Mr. Grey is preoccupied, Miss Steele.”
Oh, this must be ‘the situation.’ I am mining a seam of gold.
“Preoccupied?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
I frown at Taylor, and he glances at me in the rear-view mirror, our eyes meet. He’s saying no more. Jeez, he can be as tightlipped as the control freak himself.
“Is he okay?”
“I believe so, ma’am.”
“Are you more comfortable calling me, Miss Steele?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Oh, okay.”
Well, that curtails our conversation, and we continue in silence. I begin to think that Taylor’s recent slip, when he told me that Christian had been hell on wheels, was an anom-aly. Perhaps he’s embarrassed about it, worried that he’s been disloyal. The silence is suffocating.
“Could you put some music on please?”
“Certainly, ma’am. What would you like to hear?”
“Something soothing.”
I see a smile play on Taylor’s lips as our eyes meet briefly again in the mirror.
“Yes, ma’am.”
He pushes a few buttons on the steering wheel, and the gentle strains of Pachelbel’s canon fills the space between us. Oh yes… this is what I need.
“Thank you.” I sit back as we drive slowly but steadily along the I-5 into Seattle.
Twenty-five minutes, later he drops me outside the impressive façade that is the entrance to Escala.
“In you go, ma’am,” he says, holding the door open for me. “I’ll bring up your luggage is.”H expression is soft, warm, avuncular even.
Jeez… Uncle Taylor, what a thought.
“Thank you for meeting me.”
“It’s a pleasure, Miss Steele.” He smiles, and I head into the building. The doorman nods and waves.
As I ride up to the thirtieth floor, a thousand butterflies stretch their wings and flutter erratically in my stomach. Why am I so nervous? And I know it’s because I have no idea what kind of mood Christian’s going to be in when I arrive. My inner goddess is hopeful for one type of mood, my subconscious, like me, is fraught with nerves.