Grey: Chapters 21 through 25

Or, Sunday, June 5, 2011 through Thursday, June 9, 2011.

Sunday, June 5, 2011
“I gaze up at the bedroom ceiling. Sleep eludes me. I'm tormented by Ana's fragrance, which still clings to my bedsheets. I pull her pillow over my face to breathe in her scent. It's torture, it's heaven, and for a moment I contemplate death by suffocation.
Get a grip, Grey.” – yes, get a grip. a very firm grip. on the pillow. and hold it over your face. forever.

He gets up to get some water, wanders over to the piano, and somehow wakes up again, in bed.
"I glance at the clock: it's 3:30. I head into the kitchen and after drinking a large glass of water I make my way to the piano.
I wake again with a jolt and it's light - early-morning sunshine fills the room. I was dreaming of Ana.
. . . . .
The evidence of my desire presses into the mattress." -- the mattress that you keep next to your piano?

In his despair, Christian decides to go for a run. I guess I'll give him credit here, for at least being able to get out of bed. He begins his run with Prokofiev's "Arrival of the Montagues and Capulets" (really?), but soon finds he needs something different.
"I cannot run from this pain, though I'm trying. I stop to change the music and drag precious air into my lungs. I want something . . . violent. "Pump It," by the Black Eyed Peas, yeah. I pick up the pace." -- ahh, yes. The oh so violent lyrics of BEP:

"La-da-di-dup-dup die dy
On the stereo
Let those speakers blow your mind
(Blow my mind, baby)
To let it go, let it go
Here we go
La-da-di-dup-dup die dy (c'mon, we're
there)"

So violent. Much angry. Wow.

In his rage, or whatever emotion the Black Eyed Peas evoke, Christian gets the brilliant idea to run by Ana's apartment.
"I find myself running down Vine Street, and I know it's insane, but I hope to see her. As I near her street my heart races still harder and my anxiety escalates. I'm not desperate to see her - I just want to check that she's okay. No, that's not true. I want to see her. Finally on her street, I pace past her apartment building.
. . . . .
The curtains of one room are closed, the others open. Perhaps that's her room. Maybe she's still asleep - if she's there at all. A nightmare scenario forms in my mind: she went out last night, got drunk, met someone . . .
No.
Bile rises in my throat. The thought of her body in someone else's hands, some asshole basking in the warmth of her smile, making her giggle, making her laugh - making her come. It takes all my self-control not to go barging through the front door of her apartment to check that she's there and on her own." -- something tells me you're a few months late for a meeting with your therapist, hun.

After Christian's run, he returns to his study and gets a surprising amount of work done. Ros, his assistant person, has sent him the first draft for the business plan to take over the publishing company for which Ana will be working. ("At least I'll be able to keep an eye on Ana." -- eughhh.)
Christian leaves his study for the change of scenery offered by his kitchen, and runs into his housekeeper. They speak very briefly about what she's cooking, and it appears she wants to say something, but she quickly changes her mind.
"'What, Gail?'
'It's nothing. Sorry to disturb you.' She turns to the stove to stir the chicken, and I head off to have another shower.
Christ, even my staff have noticed that something's rotten in the state of fucking Denmark." -- pleeeeeeeeease stop comparing yourself to Hamlet. I know ELJ needed a Shakespearean play to latch onto in this series because Stephenie Meyer vomited Romeo and Juliet all over Twilight, but lorrrrd. Hamlet is a tragic character, and one of my favorite plays. You are not him. Ana is not Ophelia. And the two of you are not going to die ridiculous deaths perpetuated by the murder of Christian's father.


Monday, June 6, 2011
"I dread going to bed. It's after midnight, and I'm tired, but I sit at my piano, playing the Bach Marcello piece over and over again. Remembering her head resting on my shoulder, I can almost smell her sweet fragrance.
For fuck's sake, she said she'd try!I stop playing and clutch my head in both hands, my elbows hammering out two discordant chords as I lean on the keys. She said she'd try, but she fell at the first hurdle." -- are you kidding me? ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME? the first hurdle, Christian? the FIRST? it wasn't when you tracked her phone? or sold her car? or when you spanked her and then fucking left without talking shit out? none of those count as hurdles to you? because they're fucking deal-breakers for the rest of us. and while we're here, HOW FUCKING DARE YOU say she didn't try. we've been here for a month, and she's done everything you've ever asked her to do. she asked you to show her how bad it could be. how is the fact that she couldn't handle it not trying? you told her you'd never put her through more than she could handle. you said you'd never inflict more pain than she could take. and you did. so fuck you.

Continuing in his thoughts, he wonders why he hit her so hard. The words he uses to describe himself are "impetuous" and "selfish", stating that he "seized the opportunity to move us on to where I wanted us to be."
"...and I hurt her more than she could take - when I promised her I'd never do that.
What a fucking fool I am.How could she trust me after that? It's right that she's gone.
Why the hell would she want to be with me, anyway?" -- she loves you, you fucking bagel. despite all the bullshit you put her through, she loves you. and that's why she wants to be with you. how many times do you need this spelled out for you?

The next morning, he calls Ros to congratulate her for her work on the publishing house acquisition proposal.
"'Great work on the SIP material, but the business plan needs some revision. Let's offer.'
'Christian, this is fast.'
'I want to move quickly. I've e-mailed you my thoughts on the offering price. I'll be in the office from seven thirty. Let's meet.'
'If you're sure.'
'I'm sure.'
'Okay. I'll call Andrea to schedule. I have the stats on Detroit v. Savannah.'
'Bottom line?'
'Detroit.'
'I see.'
Shit . . . not Savannah." -- well no, Christian. you can't just takeover Ana's employer and the colonize the city her family lives in. you get one or the other, asshole. also, I really hate the way the dialogue is written. Not having any dialogue cues is sloppy and, if it were to go on much longer than this, confusing. Jasper Fforde does this brilliantly in his book, One of Our Thursdays is Missing, during an exchange between Thursday and her robot friend, Sprockett (see photo).

If you haven't read his Thursday Next series, go out and do that right now. Don't even finish this blog. The first book is called The Eyre Affair and you owe it to yourself to read something so wonderful.

Finally at his office, Christian barks at his many receptionists to get him food and coffee and to call a bunch of people. He goes into his office and thinks about Ana. Again.

"She'll be starting her new job this morning, meeting new people . . . new men. The thought is depressing. She'll forget me.

No, she won't forget me. Women always remember the first man they fucked, don't they? I'll always hold a place in her memory, for that alone. But I don't want to be a memory: I want to stay in her mind. I need to stay in her mind. What can I do?"

Andrea (receptionist #1) comes in with his coffee and croissants and he asks her for the number to a good florist.

"'Sir, we use Arcadia's Roses. Would you like me to send flowers for you?'

'No, give me the number. I'll do it myself. That's all.'

She nods and leaves promptly, as if she can't get out of my office fast enough. 
. . . . .
Between meetings I call the florist and order two dozen white roses for Ana, to be delivered to her home this evening. That way she won't be embarrassed or inconvenienced at work.
And she won't be able to forget me."

On his way home from the office, Christian instructs Taylor to detour by Ana's apartment and to drive very slowly past it. Her light is on, and Christian wonders if she got his flowers. Taylor offers to double back and drive by again (how many times have you had to do this for Christian, man? you're awfully good at being creepy), but Christian declines. Back at his apartment, Christian thinks some more.

"Taking a sip of cognac, I wander listlessly into my library. It's ironic I never showed her this room, given her love of literature." -- that's because you literally do not give a single fuck about anyone but yourself. it's not ironic. it's 100% expected.

"I survey all my books, neatly shelved and cataloged, and my eyes stray to the billiard table. Does she play billiards? I don't suppose she does.

An image of her spread-eagled over the green baize springs to my mind. There may not be any memories in here, but my mind is more than capable, and more than willing, to create vivid erotic images of the lovely Miss Steele.

I can't bear it.

I take another swig of cognac and head out of the room." -- seriously, man. where's that therapist guy you've been talking about for 536 pages?

Tuesday, June 7, 2011

We begin Tuesday with yet another nightmare (he's had one at the beginning of almost every chapter but I stopped caring about 500 pages ago). The dream begins with lots of Ana sex, obviously, and ends with her running from him, horrified at whatever it is he's just done. Then, Christian wakes up.

"Hell! I'm a sticky mess. Briefly I feel that long-forgotten but familiar sense of fear and exhilaration - but Elena doesn't own me now.

Jesus H. Christ, I've come for Team USA. This hasn't happened since I was, what? Fifteen, sixteen?"

He falls asleep again and has ANOTHER dream, but this one isn't nearly as exciting as the first. He wakes up, startled for a second time, and decides to go for a run.

"Her building looks gloomy; it's still in shadow, untouched by the early-morning sun. Fitting. It reflects my mood. Her apartment is dark inside, yet the curtains tot he room I watched before are drawn. It must be her room. 

I hope to God she's sleeping alone up there." -- honestly, Christian, in the entire month you've known her, have you not paid any attention to her life at all? she was 22 before she lost her virginity or even had a boyfriend. does she seem like the kind of person who is going to break up with a guy and immediately crawl into bed with someone else? I mean, come on. I think the only other guy she even knows aside from you is Jose, and she's made it very clear she doesn't want anything to do with him. and even if she did have someone up there, it's really none of your business. 

"Pulling my hood up and leaning against the granite wall, I'm hidden in the doorway of the building opposite. The awful thought crosses my mind that I might be standing here in a week, a month . . . a year? Watching, waiting, just to catch a glimpse of the girl who used to be mine." -- you know you could get arrested for that, right?

Finally, Christian has an appointment with his therapist, Flynn. It's mostly more of Christian moping and recounting his last month with Ana. Eventually, Flynn suggests maybe trying a relationship the way Ana wants one, and Christian is horrified. He says that he's never considered a real relationship with her because he didn't think he could have one (also he's not too keen on not being able to control her, but I digress). 

"The last month flashes before me: her tripping into my office, her acute embarrassment at Clayton's her witty, snarky e-mails, her smart mouth . . . her giggle . . . her quiet fortitude and defiance, her courage - and it occurs to me that I have enjoyed every single minute. Every infuriating, distracting, humorous, sensual, carnal second of her - yes, I have. We've been on an extraordinary journey, both of us - well, I certainly have. My thoughts take a darker turn. She doesn't know the depths of my depravity, the darkness in my soul, the monster beneath - maybe I should leave her alone." -- Let's get one thing straight, Christian. You're not a monster. You're a person. A really, truly, terrible person. A monster would absolutely do the shit you've done to Ana. A person, apparently, would, too. The difference is that people expect it from the monster. Let's not go trivializing the shittiness of what you do by making yourself appear less than human.

Christian tells Flynn that he's given him a lot to think about and leaves. Standing on his balcony, he considers the possibility of trying a relationship Ana's way and it scares him. What if she doesn't want him? 

"I need her.

Something startles me - a movement, a shadow at the periphery of my vision. I frown. What the . . . ? I turn toward the shadow, but find nothing. I'm seeing things now. I slug the cognac and head back into the living room."

Wednesday, June 8, 2011

Chapter 24 opens, yet again, with a nightmare from his childhood. Honestly, I skipped most of it. The use of dreams is supposed to make me feel bad for Christian, but it does not. Especially since he's now having them at the beginning of every chapter. Take some Nyquil or something, dude. Melatonin is great for dreamless sleep. OR, you could stop being the world's worst twenty-seven-year-old and I imagine the dreams would take care of themselves.

After going back to sleep, Christian wakes up, once again with the feeling that someone has just touched him. I doubt I'd be sleeping without security in my apartment at this point if I had that kind of money, but whatever. I guess he can handle himself. Now that he's awake, he decides to go for a run.

"Her street is quiet except for the rumble of a delivery truck and the out-of-tune whistling of a solitary dog walker. Her apartment is in darkness, the curtains to her room closed. I keep a silent vigil from my stalker's hide, staring up at the windows and thinking. I need a plan - a plan to win her back." -- and I'm assuming it's going to start with supernaturally climbing to her window, opening it, noticing the squeaking and vowing to bring oil next time, and then watching her sleep. oh, wait. wrong book.

On his way to the office (I think?) Christian calls his receptionist and asks her to go over his schedule. She had cancelled all of his engagements that week, aside from the one he was supposed to attend with Ana - Jose's photography show. At his desk, he begins to craft an email to Ana.

"Dear Ana.

No.

Dear Anastasia.

No.

Dear Miss Steele.

Shit!

Half an hour later, I'm still staring at a blank computer screen. What the hell do I say?

Come back . . . please?

Forgive me.

I miss you.

Let's try it your way.

I put my head in my hands. Why is this so difficult?"

Finally, he gets something.

"Dear Anastasia

Forgive this intrusion at work. I hope that it's going well. Did you get my flowers?

I note that tomorrow is the gallery opening for your friend's show, and I'm sure you've not had time to purchase a car, and it's a long drive. I would be more than happy to take you - should you wish.

Let me know." -- in what world does he even think Ana would want him there?

Surprisingly, she answers rather quickly.

"'Hi Christian

Thank you for the flowers; they are lovely.

Yes, I would appreciate a lift.

Thank you.'

Relief floods through me; I close my eyes, savoring the feeling.

YES!" -- oh. alright then. I guess she does want you there.

The emails go back and forth a few more times, hashing out the time that Christian will pick up Ana. After Ana's final email, he notices that she works for a man named Jack Hyde (he will be important in Book 2), and calls Ros to get background and whatnot on him. He meets Taylor outside, and has an interesting transport request.

"'Where to, sir?' Taylor asks, as I stretch out in the back of the SUV.

'The Mac store.'

'On Northeast Forty-Fifth?'

'Yes.' I'm going to by Ana an iPad." -- sure, because she's always taken so kindly to you throwing money at her.

I think he's back at his apartment now - this chapter jumps around a lot so I can never be sure - and he is putting a playlist together for Ana on the iPad she never asked for. He isn't sure what music should be added, and naturally, his mind strays to other things.

"I recall her impassioned plea the night I introduced her to my parents. 'I want you to make love to me.' How shocked I was by her simple statement - and yet all she wanted was to touch me. I shudder at the thought. I have to make her understand that this is a hard limit for me - I cannot tolerate being touched." -- take it down a notch, man. 

"I shake my head. You're getting ahead of yourself, Grey - you have to close this deal first. I check the inscription on the iPad.

Anastasia - this is for you.

I know what you want to hear.

This music on here says it for me.

Christian

Perhaps this will do it. She wants hearts and flowers; perhaps this will come close." -- I mean..... telling someone "This is what you want to hear, so here it is." is not exactly what anyone would call romantic. But okay.

Thursday, June 9, 2011

This chapter - again - opens with a dream. This chapter is also only 3/4 of a page long. There are only 2 sentences in the whole thing that are not part of his dream. It begins with Christian at the doctor, then transitions to piano lessons, and then finally, Ana.

"Beautiful Ana, sitting with me as I play a fugue, a prelude, an adagio, a sonata. She sighs, resting her head on my shoulder, and she smiles. I love listening to you play, Christian. I love you, Christian. 

Ana. Stay with me. You're mine. I love you too.

I wake, with a start.

Today, I win her back."

Anticlimactic, I know. I wasn't sure what to expect in the final chapters, so I can't really say I was disappointed. Even though I totally was. Christian's moping didn't deserve the 45 pages it got. 

This blog will be continuing after a brief hiatus so I can move to Scotland. The next book I'll be going through is called Rudolph and was written by a local author in Washington State. It will be a very short recess from ELJ and her terrible characters. After, I will resume the World of Fifty Shades, and blog the entire trilogy from the beginning. If you've stuck with me this long, I truly appreciate it. Have no fear. Ana and Christian will be back.

Until next time, my darlings, adieu. 

You're welcome, Kelsey.