by Amy Rose
After around fifteen minutes, and no return of either of my lovely colleagues, I slide open the drawer of my desk, skimming my forefinger over the paper. I pick it up, holding it my hand, trying to gage the weight of the item, trying to guess what it could be. I pluck the box it was posted in from the wastepaper basket beside my desk and open it. No notecard inside. Jenny was right, there was no card attached, looking up once more and making sure the coast was clear, I return to the matter at hand and untie the ribbon, then ripping open the paper. A small piece of folded paper falls out, I open the paper carefully and see the cursive script of my mother:
Merry Christmas Sweetheart,
We love you very much.
Mom & Dad xoxo
I open the box to find a pair of simple yet flawless, princess cut diamond earrings, in a white gold setting. They are beautiful, and exactly what I would have chosen myself. They appear to be around a carat each, and knowing my mother, the jewelers that she would have purchased these from would have been expensive.
Not wanting to lose them, I quickly remove the $15.00 silver hoops from my ears and put the diamond studs in their place. I put the hoops in the box my new earrings just came out and place it into my handbag along with the handwritten note. Once they are safe and sound, I stand up from my desk and make my way to the ladies’ bathroom. Once inside, I stand before the mirror. The diamonds sparkle even in the yellowish glow of this grey tiled room. I lean one ear closer to the mirror; the light catches it just so that a small rainbow reflects in the mirror before me.
I hear someone open the outer door of the bathroom and quickly turn the tap on, throwing my hands under the water. Suzy, one of the part time administration girls walks in.
“Hi, Angie.”
“Hey, Suzy. Ready for the Christmas break?”
“Sure am. The twins can’t wait for Santa to come.”
I smile back at her, Suzy has two-year-old twin boys. She only came back to work around six months ago and does three days a week. I can only imagine how busy her home life could be. Once she disappears into a cubicle I shut off the water and dry my hands with the paper towel provided, after throwing the used towel into the bin, I head back to my desk.
During the day, I notice both Sandra and Jenny walk past occasionally, no doubt hoping to be invited in and shown what I had received this morning. No such luck ladies, I’m keeping it to myself. I know they are probably imagining whatever was in the box was sent by my mystery man. They can keep thinking that for all I care.
5:00 pm comes and I’m so happy to be leaving for the day. Only three more days of work to go and then I can relax. I head home from the day, calling my Mom during the drive home. Per usual, our conversation is brief. Mom and Dad are both getting ready for their annual holiday. I’m getting ready to have two weeks off, I don’t tell them I’ll be in New York over Christmas. I don’t want them to possibly cancel their trip and I certainly don’t want to tell them about Elliot, not just yet. I want to ask Dad if he knows him, but that will just open a can of worms, including: “Why do you want to know, Angie?”
Even though I know that I could always use the excuse that he has been checking out property in the Nashville vicinity, I prefer to keep that aspect of his life private. As he did say it will be his vacation home.
Instead, I thank them for my Christmas present and tell them both that I love them before hanging up just as I arrive back at my apartment building. The evening goes by without any contact from Elliot. Not wanting to be the clingy girlfriend, I instead look at his picture on my phone until I fall asleep.
Tuesday and Wednesday go by so fast, without anything interesting happening. So when Thursday morning breaks, I can’t help but feel happy. Today is the last day of work and I have a clear schedule. The entire day will be spent in the office. I completed everything that I needed yesterday, which means relaxation, clean out my desk, get rid of anything I no longer need and get prepared for the new year. I want to make sure the first day back in my office will be one that sets the tone for the year ahead. A clean office, a clean start.
The last day of work is always a fun day. Sandra lets us dress down to a certain extent, casual yet professional, knowing that all of us generally have no appointments. Some of the agents even head home after half a day. I, however, work the entire day today, so I don’t have to come in tomorrow for half a day. I have way more important things to do tomorrow, like seeing Dominic and getting my hair freshened up.
With the casual yet professional mantra ringing in my head, I settle on my ever-comfortable, always faithful, go-to black jeans and white long-sleeved silk, open-necked blouse. I pull my red trench coat out to protect me from the cold during my walk to and from the car today and, finally, my knee-high, buckskin leather boots.
Casual on the bottom, business at the top, professional enough just in case any clients walk through the door. My hair is a bit oily, not having been washed since Monday, I spray some dry shampoo into it, brush it out and throw it up into a messy bun. It will do for one more day, one more day before it will be completely different with a fresh color and a fresh cut.
I arrive in the parking lot behind the office twenty minutes early. Not wanting to go in quite yet, I walk down the road until I reach my favorite coffee shop, ‘Cup of Cinnos’. The teenage boy behind the counter is super friendly while taking my order, and even gives me a wink when he hands me my Vanilla Chai Latte, with a sprinkle of cinnamon on top. The barista informs me that it’s just like Christmas in a cup. Yeah, right buddy, it’s good, but not waking-up-to-piles-of-presents good.
With coffee in hand, I walk the short distance back to the office. The wind has picked up while I have been inside, and the air has the feel of snow in it. That’s fine, get the snow over and done with today. Any storms the weather is thinking of brewing, bring it on today. I don’t need anything preventing Elliot’s flight from arriving tomorrow.
That word, tomorrow, it makes me smile. I did it, I got through two entire weeks without him. It also brings to my attention something I have been trying to push down, trying hard not to acknowledge. I’m falling for him, and I’m doing so hard. The time apart was meant to help me push my feelings for him aside and keep them at bay, to prevent them from growing any more. And yet even with thousands of miles between us, he has found a way to dive further into my heart…. The many phone calls, text messages, photos, the flowers, the Skype calls, being able to see him whether he was in his office at work or lounging on his bed at home before sleep.
I’m in trouble. What if he arrives tomorrow, lays his eyes on me and realizes that the time apart has done the opposite for him? If it has made him realize that I’m nothing but a plain old real estate agent, living in Nashville. That the distance is too much and it’s not worth starting something with someone that you can’t see after work. Somewhere along the line he is going to realize that phone calls and Skyping sessions aren’t enough. And when that happens, he is going to say goodbye, and my heart will break into a thousand pieces all over the floor.
My thoughts are disturbed by the bell of the office front door opening. I shake the thoughts occupying my mind away for now. Walking in, I say good morning to everyone and welcome the sanctuary my office provides. After putting my handbag in its usual spot and shrugging out of my coat, I sit in my leather chair and sip my latte. I spin in my chair to take in the entire room. The painting on the wall has been there since my first day. It’s one of Sandra’s. I’ve never thought of taking it down before. It’s held that position with pride since day one. It’s a vista of Nashville, it’s one you often see on tv shows. It shows The Shelby Street Pedestrian Bridge prominently; various buildings can be seen in the background.
This office has been mine now for going on four years. It’s time I make a difference. The hutch on the wall under the painting has a vase of fake flowers on top. I spray with perfume weekly to keep them fragrant, but they are overdue for replacement. Filled with dust and the colors fading badly. I jot that
down on the notepad in front of me. The porcelain tea set is the one item that screams me in here. The set consists of a large teapot and two cups with matching saucers, the white has started to fade, showing signs of slight yellowing, the cherry blossoms painted on still have their blush pink color. I’ve never used it during its time living in my office, it’s purely for ornamental purposes. There is enough empty space beside that could easily fit a good-sized photo frame. Maybe a photo of my parents, a landscape I’ve taken, or maybe, just maybe, if things work out with Elliot, I could showcase a photo of my boyfriend and me?
Next, I move to my desk, the Apple Mac takes up prime position, along with the mouse and keyboard. To the left I have the work phone and a beautiful pen holder, it’s a classic type of pottery that was big in the 1990’s. Grandma made it and it used to live next to the phone while I was growing up. When I moved out, I took it with me. To the right of the computer sits my notepad with a pen on top, other than that, it is completely blank, readily awaiting something to occupy it.
I look down at my notepad, my messy running writing looks back up at me:
New flowers and vase
Photo frame and photo of loved ones
I could possibly bring in my double decker bus Elliot brought back from London, that would be a talking point with clients, a good ice breaker. My thoughts drift to Elliot’s desk, his home office was neat and tidy. A computer and accessories, possibly a family photograph if I remember correctly?
When we recently Skyped while he was in his main office at his New York building, Sands Tower, I couldn’t really see his desk, I wonder what he has displayed. Without giving it a second thought, I pull out my phone and send him a message:
Don’t ask why, but can you send me a photo of your work desk? :)
I know that this will make him think, why would I be asking, hopefully he just does it. With the last few drops of my delicious chai latte now in my belly I toss my cup into the bin under my desk, switch on my computer and wait for my email program to load.
The text message sound from my phone draws my attention. It’s a photograph from Elliot, I open it to look at it with the entire screen of my phone, his desk is a rich timber, a deep green leather inlay in the center. He has the HP equivalent to my computer, a desk phone, and a row of those super expensive pens that you change the ink in to continue to use them, not the cheap disposable ones that when the ink runs out you just throw into the wastepaper basket.
The one item that catches my eye makes me laugh, in a prime position where he can easily reach out and activate it with just a touch, is a Newton’s Cradle. The silver frame with five equally sized silver balls hanging on strings all the same length. You pull one of the end ones back and when you let it go it creates force though all the others to then make the ball at the opposite end separate fly out in the opposite direction, before swinging back and activating the other end to once again move and so on and so on.
It makes sense, watching one of these in action can be quite soothing, grounding even, it’s something I could quite easily place on my desk and get use out of it, during phone negotiations with clients I can activate it and watch it, allowing me to concentrate on the matter at hand. It also would also serve as a reminder of Elliot, without showing his photograph to everyone who enters my office, a reminder that I would understand, but no one else would get.
I notice that Elliot doesn’t follow up the photo with a text message. He isn’t asking. He really is perfect. My reply is simple:
Thank you :) See you tomorrow x
And with that now done, I add a Newtons Cradle to my list of new items needed for my office. The remainder of the day goes by, completely free of any phone calls, new clients or even speaking to James. Since his visit on Sunday we have barely said ten words to each other. A smile across the room, or a quick ‘Hey’ in passing. It’s been horrible.
At ten minutes to five I collect all my things and turn off my computer. On a mission, I walk to the other side of the office where James’s office is located. I see him inside and without knocking walk straight in.
“Well I’m done and dusted for the day, and I guess for the year too! I’ll see you tomorrow night at the party?”
He looks up at the sound of my voice, shock plastered over his face, he obviously didn’t expect me to just walk right in. I’m not sure why though. It’s not like I haven’t done it before.
“Yeah, I’ll be there. Your man still coming?”
I nod “Sure is. We will see you then. Have a good night.”
“You too, Ange. Enjoy your day off tomorrow.”
Turning on my heel, I walk out. “Will do,” I call out over my shoulder.
~ Chapter Four ~
Angela
I am incredibly nervous, excited and also a little frightened waiting for Elliot to arrive. Even though we had been talking nearly every day on the phone or via Skype, it isn’t the same as having that person right in front you. Standing close enough to touch, to hold and kiss. Being able to look at him here in person will feel like a gift after the two weeks that we have been apart.
Everything has been going so well. The conversations are effortless and surprisingly enough, I have found myself thinking about him often and missing his company, missing being with him. And so, I hope that tonight my work Christmas party goes well. No issues arising, just Elliot and I enjoying each other’s company; and for the other forty or so people who will be doing so around us and with my fingers crossed, I hope for no dramas arising at all.
Will the spark that was electric the last time I saw him still be present? The kiss we shared at the airport before I boarded my flight home was something really special. It was a promise of what will happen in two weeks’ time, to keep a hold of in the meantime. Something that I have been thinking about a lot when lying awake in bed at night. What if the spark is still there for me, and it is no longer there for him?
Maybe when he sees me this time, he will realize just how plain I am. How he could find a prettier girl back home. A thinner girl. And what if he decides that he doesn’t want to be with me? How do I get over that? I shake my head several times, I must look as though I’m trying to shoo insects away from my head, but no, I’m trying to dispel these negative thoughts. Breathe in Angela, just breathe. After ten deep breaths, calm begins to wash over me.
I am standing in front of the vanity mirror, staring at my reflection for the umpteenth time this afternoon. After many outfit changes, I finally settle on a leaf green, long sleeved, woolen dress. It sits right on the knee. I have opaque, skin-toned tights on underneath, teamed with my knee-high, buckskin leather boots.
My hair falls in waves around my face, shining back at me, looking glossy in the light of the bathroom. It feels amazing to have fresh hair. My trip to the hairdressers this morning was a treat to be sure. Three hours of total bliss. A color, cut, scalp massage, and finally a style. Dominic always makes me feel like a brand-new woman. One thing it does for me is to boost my confidence, and that can’t hurt when I will be on the arm of an incredibly handsome man tonight.
My hair is now a beautiful glossy black color, with a subtle purple highlight, when in the correct lighting. It is also now a little shorter, after Dominic convinced me to take two inches off the length, which I am absolutely loving. Ever the amazing hairstylist, he also took the time to properly blow wave it and therefore the slight kink my hair often shows, was now styled into a sophisticated wave.
My makeup is looking good, what was that term I heard today in the salon? Oh yes, ‘it’s on point’. A new term for flawless, I believe the young apprentice had called it.
I had watched a makeup tutorial on YouTube earlier, on how to contour and create a perfect smoky eye, and even though I had half the number of products that the woman in the video was able to put her hands on, I was able to create a very similar look. The eyes reflected at me in the mirror appeared larger than normal, brighter in fact. The whole area sparkling from the glitter I had used on the lid
.
Knock, knock, knock. The sound announcing that someone is at my front door, I turn from the bathroom and walk the distance slowly to my front door. I am nervously sliding my hands along the curves of my body, smoothing my dress with them as they go. Even though I know who will be on the other side, I chance a peek through the peephole, glad to see that it is who I have been waiting for.
I grasp the door handle and pull it towards me, opening it. Elliot stands there; framed in the doorway, he looks sexy as hell. Wearing black dress pants and shiny black leather wingtips on his feet with a collared, sage green, button up shirt, cut just right to show off the toned muscles of his body underneath. His hair had been tamed with product applied to keep it under control. His eyes, deep blue like the depths of the ocean skimming over my body, checking me out, just like I was doing to him. My heart skipped a beat just being in his presence, looking at his sculpted features in front of me, just as it always did.
“Hey, baby. You look gorgeous.” He steps forward, one step and then another until his face is only inches from mine, and then he kisses me, softly, on the mouth….the way he takes control and shows me that he cares. I lift my arms up and reach around his neck locking him in place, pulling him closer to me, feeling his body against my own, hugging him close to me while our lips get reacquainted with each other after their two-week vacation apart.
When we finally pull apart, I’m breathless. What this man does to me, does to my body. The electrical current running over my skin doesn’t retract when we are no longer touching, it stays there as a reminder as to what his touch does to me.
“I have missed you, Elliot,” I confess. Feeling stupid for saying it, thinking maybe I should have kept it quiet. He runs his thumb along my jawline, angling my face up slightly so we are looking right into each other’s eyes.
“That’s good, because I missed you too, baby. It’s so good to see you.”
