DL Ch. 10 - Blindingly Brilliant

Hi. :) You are reading chapter 10 of my novel Divergent Limit. If you're new here, I'd recommend that you click on the series link at the top (on mobile) or to your right (on desktop) and start with the prologue (chapter 0). This series isn't a collection of loosely connected stories that can all be read in isolation, but one long narrative where each chapter keeps building on the previous one.

If you want to know whether the story is for you, I'd recommend that you read "Element 00 - Prologue", "Element 01 - A Hint Of Summer", and "Element 02 - I Hate Kurt Gödel". If you enjoy these three chapters, chances are you might enjoy the rest as well. And if you aren't interested at that point, I doubt that later chapters will change your mind.

Should you make it back here, say hello in the comments and let me know what you think. So far, a few people have started following me as I keep posting new chapters, but rarely anybody rates the story or comments on it. Your thoughts are very welcome! ;)

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Element 10 -- Blindingly Brilliant

November 9th, Sunday

Eleanor was examining her body in the mirror in her bedroom when she answered her father's call.

"Hey, Dad."

She put him on speaker.

"How's my girl?"

She turned to the side to get a better view of the bruise on her right upper arm.

"Good... I think. I'm actually looking at my bruises from yesterday right now."

That satisfied grunt she knew so well radiated through her phone.

"I can only imagine. That Maya girl landed a few good hits."

That caught her by surprise.

"How do you know that?"

She pulled up her shirt a little. Her stomach had taken a few good kicks as well.

"Jesse told me. He sent me a link to this YouTube thing. Somebody filmed your fight and put it on there. Still wish I could've been there."

Her father didn't care much for social media. Sometimes, she envied his ability to live mostly offline in this day and age.

"Come on, Dad. Work's more important. Are you still sure you want to come visit next weekend? Thanksgiving isn't that far off, so we'll see each other soon anyway."

She turned to the other side to get a better look at the bruise on her left thigh. Anybody looking at her could have told which leg Maya had targeted with her attacks.

"But if I come visit you, I get to use my old coffee maker. I'm telling you, they don't make 'em like that anymore!"

She rolled her eyes with an affectionate smile on her face.

"Dad, it's a coffee maker, not a perpetual motion machine."

"A what?"

"A... a miracle machine. Anyway, if you miss it that much, Eugene and I can get our own coffee maker."

"Nah, only the best for my girl!"

Overall, her body was more or less in the state she expected. Nothing unusual. But she could have had significantly fewer bruises if she had been more disciplined during her fight.

"So, what's Eugene up to? I haven't seen the little weirdo since you moved out. I kinda miss him, but don't tell him that."

Eleanor chuckled.

"My lips are sealed!"

Her father had always been fond of Eugene. Some things would never change.

"He's in seventh heaven after hitting it off with his date yesterday."

"Oh, did he finally find a cute Chinese girl that wants to go out with him? Good for him."

"The Asian girls he likes are just a band, Dad. And Babymetal is from Japan..."

She could hear him clear his throat.

"So, uh, what... what was the fight like? With all the media people there? I only saw the video, but I can't remember the crowd cheering like that for any of your other fights."

He was trying so hard to talk normally to her despite being worried sick.

"People are just nuts. I hope my next fight won't become a spectacle like that again."

She lay down on her bed and placed her phone next to her pillow.

"You know what it's like, Eleanor. Once the whole story is no longer news, they'll move on to something else. But I think most people there meant well."

She rolled onto her side and cuddled her pillow.

"Yeah. It was a lot, but also kinda nice, I guess. I think I managed to double the number of mathematicians in the country who've watched a kickboxing bout in a single night."

She couldn't resist watching and reading the immediate reactions to her victory after she had come home last night. The more serious newspapers wrote about the fight, the large audience, and the symbolic meaning of her stepping into the ring. She couldn't have cared less about any of that. Then she found a few videos of women, in some cases girls even, who felt inspired to make their own story public. These other survivors breaking their silence made her hopeful.

After watching a couple of those, it didn't take long for her to get a recommendation for a conspiracy theory video of some middle-aged guy claiming Robertson only confessed because he knew he'd lose the fight against the 'feminist inquisition' anyway. What an idiot. She knew that some people would have gone to great lengths to portray Robertson as the victim if he had denied her allegations. But refusing to believe even his own confession? If that didn't convince them, then what?

She could only hope that her father wouldn't see any of these videos. Then she noticed he was still talking. Her thoughts had drifted a bit.

"I wanted to tell you, I'm proud of you for going through with the fight. I mean, I'm always proud of you. You know that. But now I'm even... well, 'more' isn't the right word, I guess. You know, it's... different."

She hugged her pillow a little tighter, a faint smile on her lips.

"I love you too, Dad."

She could hear his sigh of relief through the phone.

"Eleanor, if you need anything, talk to me. I don't know what to do and I don't want to do it wrong. So whatever it is you need, tell me. You can always come home and get away from it all for a few weeks. College can wait."

She took the phone off speaker and held it to her ear.

"Thanks. I'm really fine. I fought for my future here. I don't want to leave. But there's one thing you could do for me."

"Sure, anything."

"Just give me an honest answer..."

She hesitated a moment and took a deep breath.

"Am I... like Mom?"

What followed were a few seconds of silence. She could see her father scratch his head before her mind's eye.

"You're really putting me on the spot here. It might sound like a cop-out, but if you're asking like this: In some ways you are, in others you aren't. I guess you already knew that."

Obviously, she had some things in common with her mother. There was probably not a single person on the planet with whom she didn't share at least one trait. Likewise, nobody was the same as her in every regard. In that sense, her question was bordering on being meaningless. What she really wanted to know was if she and her mother were the same in the way they approached the world.

"Then, uh... what's the most important thing we have in common and what's our biggest difference?"

Even more silence. She knew she was asking something of her father that didn't come naturally to him. Abstractly identifying the core of what made another person who they were wasn't in his wheelhouse. He wasn't the kind of person who liked someone or something and then took a step back to define and categorize why he cared. He was perfectly content with not questioning why he experienced the world the way he did.

"Well, you know how people say: 'You only regret the chances you didn't take'?"

"Yeah?"

"If everybody was like Victoria and you, that saying wouldn't exist."

She didn't fully understand where he was going with this.

"What are you getting at?"

"Most people err on the side of caution when they have a tough choice to make. And then they might not act at all because not choosing feels like not taking on any responsibility. They're scared of it. I think the regret kicks in once they begin to understand that not choosing was a choice as well, just the cowardly one. It doesn't make you any less responsible, if that makes sense?"

Eleanor nodded, only to realize that her father couldn't see her.

"Yes, I understand what you're saying."

"You and your mother, you're the opposite. You welcome the responsibility. You err on the side of action. It's much easier for you to accept the consequences of what you did than of what you didn't do. You're not afraid of mistakes. Your mother once told me: 'A mistake isn't something to regret. It's something to correct.' You live like that too. And you certainly didn't get that from me."

What he was saying was true, at least to a degree. She had never agonized much over her choices. And she was certain that her mother didn't become the CEO of White Mare by beginning her thought process with 'But what if I'm wrong?'

"That makes sense. And what's the difference?"

Her fingers were digging into her phone now.

"For you..."

He took a moment before he continued. Eleanor recognized that pause. Her father had always taken great care to not talk badly about her mother, even in the immediate aftermath of their divorce. Looking back, she could only wonder how much he had doubted himself when he became a single father to a six-year-old daughter. He was weighing his words carefully, the same way he always did when Eleanor complained about Victoria.

"... kindness isn't something that needs to be... earned... I guess."

She hadn't expected that answer. She had never even thought about kindness in those terms. A person could most certainly lose their right to be treated kindly, Robertson being the most recent example that came to mind. But she agreed with her father. By default, kindness should be extended to everyone, and be withdrawn selectively from those who acted unworthy of it -- and not the other way around.

Her thumb tenderly traced the edge of her phone.

"Thanks, Dad. I think, that part, I got from you."

Her father gulped.

"Heh, well, don't say that, kiddo. You turned out great. I... I just tried not to screw you up, that's all. The rest was all you."

After that, they talked for another twenty minutes about various things like her classes, perpetual motion machines, Eugene's date, Victoria coming to her fight in a Princeton jersey, and the revelation that her dad had apparently never eaten ramen before -- a gap in his cultural knowledge Eleanor was determined to close when he came to visit next weekend.

She was lying on her back, legs crossed, hands folded on her stomach. Her father's words reverberated in her mind.

"Kindness isn't something that needs to be earned."

She whispered to no one. A mere ten seconds later, she almost jumped out of her bed and to her feet. Her aching abs didn't appreciate the enthusiastic movement.

She was about to knock on Eugene's door when she briefly wondered whether going to him in nothing but panties and a shirt was a problem. But he had said that he was okay with it. Then she knocked.

"Yeah?"

Upon hearing his voice, she opened the door. Eugene was lounging on his bed, wearing nothing but boxer shorts. His hair was still damp, and the minty scent of his shampoo lingered in the room. His eyes were glued to the screen of the laptop by his side.

"Is this a bad time?"

He looked at her.

"No, why?"

She took a step into his room and closed the door behind her while she answered him.

"You're in your underwear, on your bed, looking at your laptop. Certain activities that one might prefer to enjoy in privacy come to mind..."

Eugene laughed.

"Nah, I'm just tired and wanted to take a nap. But then I thought of something and couldn't stop thinking about it until I looked it up. And trust me, nobody would jerk off... should jerk off to what I'm looking at."

Eugene sounded a bit hoarse.

"Now you got me curious. But what's with your voice?"

He made some space for her on his bed and sat upright. She sat down next to him.

"Nothing. I just did a silly voice yesterday. Apparently, my vocal cords didn't have as much fun as I did."

She chuckled. If she had expected anyone to go home hoarse yesterday, it would've been the announcer, maybe one of the coaches, but certainly not Eugene.

"So what are you looking at?"

He was reading something, but what caught her eye was a black-and-white photo of a young man on the screen.

"Just this guy that's important to Claire. Kurt Gödel. I wanted to understand a bit better what she was talking about, but I got stuck reading about his life instead."

Eleanor scanned a bit more of what it said on the screen. She read the words out loud.

"Austrian, logician, born 1906, died 1978 in Princeton. Austria to Princeton, quite the journey back then. The man got around. I think I heard the name before. What's up with the guy?"

Eugene shrugged.

"I don't really know. He proved that math is kind of fucked and this Hilbert guy didn't like it. I don't really get it. But his life's story is really tragic."

"How so?"

"Well, this beautifully rational mind, this master logician without equal, got so paranoid later in life that he trusted nobody to prepare his meals but his wife. And when she could no longer do so, he starved himself to death."

Eleanor looked closer at the man in the photo, searching for signs that would give away the later mental instability. She found none.

"Damn, tragic indeed. What a way to go. You think he thought of himself as logical until the very end?"

"No clue. Just makes you wonder whether logic and reason might be overrated if even a guy like him can lose his mind like that, doesn't it? Anyway, what did you want?"

Eleanor hugged her knees close to her chest and glanced at him out of the corner of her eye. She knew what she wanted to say, but now that she was sitting here, she felt embarrassed after all.

"Would you... hold me for a bit?"

Eugene didn't say anything. She just felt his arm on her back and then his hand on her shoulder. She was about to lean into him when he gave her an energetic tug. Surprised, she lost her balance and her head bumped against his.

"Ouch!"

They both shouted at the same time. Her aching head rested against his shoulder.

"What the fuck was that supposed to be?"

Eugene rubbed his head.

"I thought my only chance against you was a move you'd never see coming because it's illegal in kickboxing."

"Well, whatever combat sport you might pick up one day, make sure to learn moves that hurt your opponent more than yourself."

"Gotcha."

She let go of her legs and put her hand on his.

"Do you mind if we lie down?"

Eugene shook his head in response and put his laptop away. She lay on her side with her back to Eugene. It didn't take long before she felt his embrace, his hand above hers, and his calm breath against her hair. He had held her like this on the first two nights after she had confided in him. But it was the first time that he wasn't wearing a shirt while holding her.

A minute passed. Then another. Her eyes took in the room. The Babymetal poster on the wall. The DragonForce hoodie draped over the desk chair. The shelf housing a growing collection of metal albums that felt a little out of place in this digital age. She was most definitely in Eugene's room.

He did nothing but continue breathing. The quiet made the moment feel weirdly intimate. Was this just normal to him? For as long as she could remember, Eugene had never been awkward around girls. Or no more awkward than he was anyway. He tended to be unapologetically himself no matter who he was with. She adored and envied him for that.

The hand holding hers was the same he had put on her shoulder to stop her when she had tried to kiss him. It had also pushed her away when she had groped him. She remembered it well, that moment. Her hand on his crotch and her surprise at him not being hard. Moments before, she had felt his muscles tense as her hand slid down his body. She had wanted to believe that he was excited, but he had just been tense because he was frightened. And then the sudden push. She had fallen onto the mattress while Eugene had jumped out of her bed and dashed to the door.

The look on his face as he stood in the doorway staring at her was burned into her memory. He had been angry, out of breath, and afraid... of her. She couldn't bear the silence anymore.

"You're not going to say anything?"

Eugene took a second to respond. He sounded sleepy.

"Like what?"

"I don't know. Most people would probably ask 'What's wrong?' or something like that."

"Uhh, okay... So, what's wrong?"

She sighed.

"Nothing, I just talked to my dad."

"Oh, how's Sam?"

"He's fine. If he asks you about your Chinese girlfriend next weekend, it's not my fault."

"What?"

Eugene snorted, clearly amused.

"Just Dad being Dad."

"Alright."

Then silence again. But this time, he broke it.

"What are you thinking about?"

"You, mostly."

She had answered his question honestly without thinking.

"Oh? I hope only good things."

She closed her eyes.

"I'm not so sure."

Nothing again for a few seconds.

"Come on, you got to give me more than that. Did I do something?"

She didn't know if her talking about this was good or bad for Eugene. But she couldn't keep it to herself anymore.

"I've been thinking about what I did to you. I knew I hurt you. But..."

Eugene drew her closer. He didn't let go the moment she brought up the pain she had caused him. He encouraged her to go on.

"With every day that passes since... my own rape, I understand a little more that there is no going back. With every day that passes, I understand a little more how deep the wound I touched really is. Will it take me six years to fully comprehend what I did to you? How could you forgive me for this?"

Part of her wanted to turn around, but she lacked the resolve to face him as she fought the tears welling in her eyes. Eugene rested his forehead against the back of her head.

"In the end, it wasn't difficult. Not after I heard your apology. I forgave you the moment you stopped talking, even though it took me a while to say it."

Eleanor hung her head and sighed.

"You're just a better person than me, then. I couldn't have done that."

Eugene slowly shook his head. She could feel his nose moving through her hair.

"You got that wrong. We think of forgiveness as this selfless act. But is it really? I didn't sacrifice my well-being to make you feel better. I didn't want to lose my friend."

A few tears escaped her eyes.

"I... didn't want to lose you. It's as simple as that."

She suddenly turned around and reached for his face. She looked into his wide-open, watery eyes.

"Eugene, tell me, who is looking after you?"

He seemed startled.

"Uh... what?"

She repeated herself.

"Who is looking after you?"

He gently covered the hand on his cheek with his own. There it was again, that familiar kind, patient smile.

"Don't worry about me. It's all fresh for you. Of course we're focusing more on you right now."

She was looking into his eyes without blinking as if he might be able to dodge the question the moment she let him out of sight.

"Eleanor, really, it's..."

"Don't you dare say it's okay!"

Eugene was startled by the sudden intensity in her voice. She didn't let him say anything before she continued.

"I've had so much support. You, my dad, Ashley, even my mom's trying. The nurse has been so kind. Nicole immediately believed me when we asked for help with the article. I wasn't alone. And then I try to picture it."

"What...?"

"The 12-year-old boy going to sleep without anybody hugging him. Going to school the next day. Quitting basketball out of nowhere and nobody connecting the dots. Five years of not telling anybody. That must have been so incredibly lonely. I find it too painful to even imagine. So don't tell me... that was okay."

Her voice was barely able to deliver the words. Eugene lowered his eyes and looked down at nothing.

"No, uh... it was... not okay."

She leaned her forehead against his, her hand cradling his head.

"I don't know how you turned out this wonderful going through all of this alone. And I know I haven't done a good job looking after you. But I promise you, from now on, I will. I'll look after you."

Eugene embraced her tightly.

"I didn't know I looked that fragile to you."

He sounded almost amused. She gently stroked his hair. She had to admit, Claire wasn't wrong. His curls were nice to play with.

"You don't. That's the point. While I fumble about every step of the way, you always look like you got it all figured out. Always composed, funny if it's appropriate, serious when you need to be, and you always know the right thing to say. That's what makes people think they don't need to look after you. Compare that to me."

She took a deep breath.

"I hurt you, then I meet with the man who raped me a few days later. I rush to go public, but can't tell my parents what happened before the article goes online. I want to have sex on my own terms, but end up hurting Michael. I insist on going through with my fight, then lose control in the ring. Everybody can see I'm a total mess barely held together by spit and duct tape."

Eugene began to shake in her arms. For a moment, she thought he was crying. But then she heard him laugh. He hid his face behind one hand while his dying laughter kept his body trembling.

"Is that really how you see us?"

She was taken aback by his disbelief.

"Y... Yes? What's so weird about that?"

He composed himself.

"It's been six years. You're the only one I ever told about what happened. My coach is still out there for all I know, doing God knows what to children. Meanwhile, you've gone public mere days after the assault, got the man removed from his job, and inspired I don't know how many other survivors to come forward."

Despite his earlier laughter, he didn't look like he was joking.

"You're annoyed at yourself for occasionally stumbling while you're busy speedrunning trauma recovery. And then you see the guy in the rearview mirror, who's too scared to take the first step, and tell yourself: 'See how steady he looks just standing there?'"

Now she was the one who was looking down, unsure what to say to that. Then she felt Eugene's hand on her cheek, encouraging her to look at him again.

"Eleanor, I'm not trying to tell you what to feel. And I won't claim to know exactly what all the people who showed up to your fight yesterday are thinking. But from where I stand..."

He was so sincere as he looked into her eyes, his face mere inches from hers.

"... you look blindingly brilliant."

Neither of them blinked as they stared at each other in silence. Her heart was pounding. Eugene's palm suddenly felt hot on her cheek. Her hand in his hair had gone still a while ago. She could feel his breath on her face.

"Jesus, dude! You can't look deep into a girl's eyes and just say stuff like that."

Eugene started to blink as he seemed to become self-conscious.

"Uh, right, you're right. Sorry, I didn't..."

He didn't finish the sentence, nor did either of them move away. Eleanor regained her composure first. Her face relaxed as her hand wandered from his hair back to his face.

"We can't keep doing this, can we?"

"You mean, because of Claire?"

"Kinda, but not really. It's not about her. I might find someone. If things don't work out between you and her, you will eventually find somebody else. This... has an expiration date, hasn't it?"

It was an odd feeling. Mourning the loss of a connection that felt so vividly alive in her hands.

"You're right. So, what now?"

She moved a bit closer. It was time to ask the question.

"Have you ever thought about us as a couple?"

"Of course I have. It's hard not to when everybody around us treats us like we're basically a married couple that hasn't filed the necessary paperwork yet."

She chuckled. She knew exactly what Eugene meant. It was a miracle that her father, for once, hadn't insinuated anything earlier.

"Me too. The thing is... I know that I want this..."

Her thumb caressed his cheek.

"But I'm not sure about this."

She let her thumb glide across his lips.

"Before all this, I thought I knew I didn't want it. But maybe I was just telling myself that to protect something? I'm not sure anymore."

Their noses almost touched as she carefully dragged his lips open. She could hear and see him gulp.

"I don't trust what I feel anymore. Sometimes... I think I want it. And then I wonder... do I want it... or do I... just want to want it... because I should want it... because it makes sense...?"

She could see on Eugene's face that he was searching for what to say.

"How does it make sense?"

She felt the urge to look away but resisted it.

"Right now, you are the only one I can imagine feeling... inside me... without the thought scaring me."

He suddenly held his breath. His fingers reflexively clung to her face a little tighter than before. It was impossible for her to imagine what went through his mind. She only knew that he understood exactly what she had said and that he wasn't going to pull away because of it.

Their noses touched. They were so close now that her eyes could no longer produce a single sharp image of Eugene's face, making it impossible for her to read his expression. As they pushed further in this agonizingly slow fashion, the tips of their noses briefly bent inward, like two soft cushions colliding in slow motion, before they began to slide past each other. They stopped just before their mouths met, their trembling breaths hot on the other's lips.

"I'm not afraid."

That was all Eugene had to say.

"Neither am I."

They crossed the remaining distance. Her lips gently parted his. Their mouths barely moved; no tongue darted forward in explosive passion. Just soft lips curiously exploring one another, a hand hiding in his hair, knuckles tenderly caressing her cheek, and the faint taste of lingering tears. Anticipation became sensation, sensation became feeling, feeling became evidence, and evidence became certainty.

They broke the kiss and created some distance between them, just enough to see each other clearly again. Eleanor took her hand off Eugene's face and let her fingers trace her lips. She began to speak.

"That felt..."

"... wrong?"

"Yeah."

"It was a good kiss, though."

"I think so too."

She was glad he felt the same.

"So... we're good?"

She had to ask. He furrowed his brows and scratched his head.

"I don't know. I think so? This is weird."

Truer words had never been spoken.

"Now I get to ask you. What are you thinking about?"

Eugene's befuddled expression became sheepish as he began to blush.

"You really want to know?"

"Of course, or I wouldn't have asked."

The smile on his lips looked so boyish, so unburdened by the premature maturity he usually carried himself with.

"I think... I'm in love with Claire."

He was so happy.

"In case you haven't noticed yet, she's clearly into you. And look at you, going after an older girl like that."

"Oh, come on, not you too! She's 21, not 50!"

She couldn't help but tease him.

"I'm just saying, take it into account if you want to have kids. Clock's ticking!"

Next thing, his pillow hit her in the face. Her muffled laughter filled the room.

Eleanor couldn't even begin to imagine what their friendship would ultimately become. Nothing had been resolved. But she knew that she wanted Eugene to enjoy an uncomplicated romance with Claire.