by Tilty Edin
The sound of Tod's bedroom door shutting echoed in the hall.
She closed the drawer quickly and took one last look at herself in the mirror. Her fingers crawled back to the light switch, turning it off before she walked out to see him in lacquer stained khakis and the same white T shirt he must have worn to bed.
"Will I see you again?" she asked.
His eyes flickered. "One would certainly hope."
The butterflies inside her regained their strength, confirming it was never just a desperate escape from misery or the alcohol when he said all that she’d ever hope to hear from him.
"I'll keep in touch."
6
12:45pm
Dull hardwood floors lined down a narrow hallway supporting a polished desk. On it, Leanne's fingers intertwined with a violet Sage plant in a decorative bowl.
In an massively sized, dusty mirror on the navy blue wall, she could see something in her eyes had changed. A spark from her heart still lingered.
A hoarse echo asked from the other end of the hall, "Did you find the cough syrup?"
The voice led her into the kitchen where her mother, Alexandra, or Alex, for short, lit a cigarette while getting coffee ready. That was lot for her to do at once. She was a bony woman with pale skin, hair and clothes.
"Maybe you should put down the cigarette," Leanne said. Her hand held onto the carved wooden trimming of the entrance. "You know what they're saying about them now."
Alex shrugged. "If I'm well enough to make some coffee," she coughed miserably. "I'm well enough to smoke a God damned cigarette."
"You're sick, Mom."
"It comes and goes," Alex huffed, shuffling in cotton slippers. "One minute I'm well enough to stand, the next I'm bound to the bed."
"Do you think it could be anything serious?" Leanne asked, stepping further into the kitchen. "You know, like something..." she paused, imagining her Aunt Sophia’s body lying lifeless in the shed and blinked away the disturbing image from her mind.
Alex rolled her eyes. "It could be anything.”
Leanne walked closer to her frail mother. “The auditions weren't what I expected them to be. However, I've met someone."
"Who?" she asked with exhaustion, as if she already suspected it the moment her only daughter walked in the door.
Leanne smiled. "He's real handsome. Kind and…" she halted before she could say anything else. Frozen for a moment, lost in a stare out the kitchen window, looking out to a very green lawn before breaking away to the sound of coffee being poured.
Her memory drifted back, like her willowy body moving over to the small marble table.
"And?"
"His name is Tod Hagen."
“What does he do?” Alex asked, setting two cups of coffee on the table, then turned her thin neck away and coughed roughly.
"He's continuing law school. In the meantime he works at a welding company and maintains boats in the sound."
"When will your father and I be meeting him? Soon I hope. I don't want you running around with someone we’ve never met."
"Well, we aren't dating," Leanne mentioned. "At least not yet. I suppose it's far too soon for that."
“I hope he’s a gentleman at least,” she said, continuing to smoke despite her labored breathing.
Leanne winced. "Have you been to the doctor yet?" she asked abruptly. "I think you need a little more than cough syrup."
"Next week, maybe," Alex puffed, her voice sounding even raspier with each word. "If my condition doesn't improve. It would be nice not to feel like my throat's made of sandpaper once in a while."
Leanne noticed an envelope unopened at the end of the table. There was a cluster of them, all stamped with the Robinson logo. "I've missed Uncle Tuck and Aunt Jean," she said out loud, only to wish she hadn’t.
"All the more reason you should be there right now," her mother replied in demanding tone. "It's meant for you. It's only meant for you."
"Jean is doing a good job helping uncle Tuck," Leanne mentioned. "You know that."
"She's ruining it," Alex grumbled. "As if she hasn't ruined it all for you already."
"Don't be bitter, Mother. Jean is the reason why it's even still there and running."
"Jean never had anything better to do with her life," Alex said sharply. Her hands trembled. "Tuck picked her up off the streets right after you were born. It wasn't even a month. And he calls that love."
"Well you certainly weren't there to give him any help, last that I heard."
Alex crossed her arms. Her lips puckered as if she were eating something very sour. "You must have heard wrong then,” she fumed. “Very wrong, Leanne."
"Please," Leanne suggested calmly despite her mother's raised voice. "You don't have the strengh to be upset right now."
Alex put out her cigarette.
Leanne rose from the chair and turned away, all too ready to walk out the door and not come back for a long time.
"Leanne, don’t go." She lowered her shoulders and uncrossed her arms. “I assume now that you've met this man you're too busy to audition anymore, let alone help out there?"
Leanne turned back reluctantly. "I've applied for two other tryouts next week."
Alex wheezed, holding on tightly to her chest.
Leanne rubbed her mother's frail back. "You alright?"
Alex buried her head in her hands, groaning.
"I think it's time to get up to bed," Leanne insisted.
She took her mother's thin arm and guided her shaky body up the stairs and to her room where she laid on her bed, shivering violently at 80 degrees.
"I'll get more blankets," she insisted, tucking her mother in tight.
"They're in that closet." Alex wheezed, pointing a finger. "Your father should be home in a few hours. I'll be alright for the rest of the day."
Leanne brought out the blankets, layered them over her and softly placed a hand on her forehead and cheeks as she fell fast asleep.
At least she doesn't have a fever.
Leanne wondered off into the narrow halls where many pictures hung. Most of them of Aunt Sophia. Her eyes fixed on one picture in particular, the one of her mother and Sophia as little girls, almost no bigger than the tin watering can with Robinson’s painted across it that they stood next too.
She peeked in the slightly opened door beside the wall where it hung. The room lured her with cerulean colors glowing with bits of sunlight from outside. Something in that soothing, cool color made her feel like her younger self again with little girl thoughts. Although it had been almost no more than two years since she's slept there, it felt abandoned for centuries. She went to touch her matted teddy bear collecting dust on the smooth sheeted bed before the phone in the hall started ringing, startling her.
She went to answer it. "Hello?"
"Why, good afternoon Lee," her father, Peter's eccentric voice responded. "How is she?"
"She could be better."
"I'm at my office, but I should be home shortly."
She wondered over, the phone cord nearing its limits. “I think she needs a doctor,” she said, peeking at Alex whose heavy breathing rattled in her sleep.
"Does she have a fever?”
"Well, no," she said quietly, "At least not now."
"I'll get her to see one when I get home. In fact, I may order one to the house right this minute."
"And would you get some cough syrup on your way? We're out."
"Sure will," he said before hanging up. "Bye Dear."
"Bye.”
Before turning back down the stairs, she halted to the sight of the large window in the hall, watching the bare trees with budding leaves sway in the wind beyond the glass. Her mind went quiet, like the entire house, like her entire world; as if something greater than she could possibly imagine was trying to reach her to tell her something she couldn't even begin to tell herself.
7
3:50pm
Keys jingled in Leanne's shaky hands as they unlocked the door to h
er apartment. Her strung up mind untied the moment she entered the living room, feeling drained among the greyed off-white walls. It had been a long night made even longer with the way it all had been replaying in her head like a song that never ends.
She wandered over to a glass wall outlooking the foggy city and vaguely listened to car horns beep and the clamour of construction. She reached for her purse and searched for the cigarettes she gave to Tracy and threw the bag aside when she realized they weren’t there.
People walking below on streets brought on this vague memory of last night. She could almost feel the night mist tickle her face and could even taste it again on her tongue, and wondered if Tod was only a ghost that would forever haunt her if she never spoke to him again.
The phone rang, breaking the engulfing memory.
She walked over and brought the phone slowly up to her ears.
"How did it go?" Tracy asked.
Leanne sighed with relief. "Pretty awful."
"So how did you do?"
"I have nothing on my competetors. I think I need to find a new hobby."
"Just don't go back to Lucy's. It's getting old. I would know. I was there last night."
Leanne ran a hand through her hair, shifting her feet. "I took that off my list for hobbies years ago."
"It got you a hobby, didn't it?" Tracy asked. “And your car.”
Leanne stopped moving. Memories at Lucy's were vague despite they weren’t from long ago. The high she once felt in black lace and stilettoes faded, as if she had never lived that kind of short lived life.
"Did you parents ever find out?" Tracy asked.
Leanne stammered, “No." She imagined how disgraced her parents would be. There weren’t enough reasons to get back into exotic dancing downtown. Her family had money to spare and she already had a pretty secure future, boring, but down pat. She did not the best, but certainly well enough in school, so there was no telling exactly what it was that brought her to those doors as soon as she turned 18, besides the thrill. Once in awhile she liked to remember fondly how she spent more time dressing up than actually being out on the job. It took a while to put on wigs and enough makeup to look unrecognizable, but she loved the feeling of being somebody else. When she was on the stage, she wasn't Leanne Robinson, or her mother's dead sister, she was whoever she wanted to be.
Tracy sighed. “I've been busy with getting back into school, dealing with my sister and that dweeb, Tim."
"Tim..."
"You know, Tim. Tim Farely. He's in his masters."
"He's still pestering you?"
"He wants to be my study buddy," Tracy said. "Nice of him, really, but he always adds in dinner."
"Persistent, isn't he?"
"Sure is. I don't know what to do with him. Can't deny he's a good friend, but he knows I'm seeing someone else."
"Alan?"
"Doug now. He's taking me to that rock concert next week," Tracy said giddily. "Forgot which one and the date. I was going to ask if you wanted to come, but I'm sure you're busy with studying."
Leanne sighed with relief. "Only a few more finals and it'll be over."
"We should celebrate."
"We should," Leanne agreed. "Maybe you could bring Tim along too."
Tracy laughed. "Shut up. Tim. Jeepers."
"Come on, Trace."
"Well, he's smarter than Doug," Tracy admitted. "That's for sure. And what about you? Still single as ever?"
Leanne bit her lip. “This is going to sound crazy Trace, but..."
"Oh boy, I'd love to hear it," she interrupted. "My cabs here and I have to get back to my sisters soon. She's making something for dinner and wants me to be there the moment it gets out of the oven. Tell me later."
"Yeah."
Click.
Leanne washed up, then covered up in a white robe, put on a pair of big reading glasses and walked over to her desk. On it, a vase of wilting flowers and a picture of her Grandmother. She studied until bits of the sunset flashed through the apartment windows and on a large oriental tapestry hanging on the wall. It was red and gold, painted with elephants, monkeys and dragons.
From what Leanne could remember, her Grandmother could never stay in America for long. Growing up, her father did everything he could to get her to stay. He even went as far as buying the apartment so she barely had to pay a dime. Nearly every piece of furniture, vase and artifact there was her long gone grandmothers, and would probably never see much dust or an auctioneer for another lifetime. They were valuable, not only to her father, but to Leanne as well. She didn't mind the unique style, and being so busy with school and work it was nice to have something already set up.
After taking a few more notes, she sprawled on her mattress and grabbed a hold of her pounding head. Her eyelashes fluttered against the sheets. She felt tired, yet wildly awake. It must have been from the glimpses of the shadows making up Tod's body that flashed in her memory.
But I'd rather not think of him.
She pulled off the sheets, grabbed some of her books and reread pages. She had to do something to get him off her mind. But when the setting sun's gentle light touched the corner of her eye, she looked away from the books and to the phone, wondering if he'd really call like he promised.
She replayed the moment they locked eyes for the last time after he dropped her off at her car. How badly she wanted to embrace or even kiss him before they parted, but didn't. She recalled how he walked away too fast, leaving her in sort in wonder of what their next meeting would bring, if it would bring anything at all.
She glanced up to the blank ceiling turning a warmer shade. Her head gently turned to the side, looking out the window to the skies of pink, blues, and gold.
Just one more page.
Instead, she turned her head to the phone resting silently on the wall, wondering if the ticking noise coming from a black cat clock with the swaying tail and eyes in the next room could get any louder.
8
12:40am
Tod’s arms were sore after moving some boxes into his new office in the warehouse. Night fully set when he stepped outside, took out his lighter and lit a cigarette. He looked to the stars before clouds would pass by them, taking all their twinkling light away. A numbing feeling he hoped for set in the more he inhaled. He closed his eyes for a fleeting moment, letting the dark sink in until the thought of Leanne cleared it away. She was the brightest star he'd ever seen, and he wondered if he'd ever know how to leave her, body and soul.
A burly shadow grew in the copper lamp light.
"Tod," a scratchy voice said. The owner was Charlie Goodwin, a pot bellied man with balding greying brown hair. "George needs your help again."
Tod muttered, exhaling smoke. "Be right there,"
Charlie scratched his bushy mustache. “What’s going on?"
"Wouldn't really know how to tell you, Charlie."
"Ah," Charlie huffed, glancing at Tod with a suspicious eye. "A woman."
"Now how'd you know that?"
"I have five sons."
Tod smirked. "This one's just a little different."
"Knowing you Tod, I'd be surprised if you found her any later."
"Well, thanks."
"I know you'll keep her around, whoever the lucky lady is" Charlie pat him on the back. "You're a smart boy, and you're picky too. You’re the kinda guy who can be. I know you've found a gem."
Tod flicked the ashes off his cigarette and nodded his head.
"Anywho," Charlie nudged him. "Suuure you don't want a rental space for the taking?" he pestered. "I'll lower that price again."
Tod shook his head. "I have no use for it," he said. "Or I would completely take you up on your deal."
Charlie shook his meaty finger. "Well, think about it. It'll go fast," he warned before shuffling back to the door. "Maybe I'll go ask George again. Anyway, finish up kid. The old man needs your help."
"Be right in," Tod said, but it would be just a little while more before he did. For a wh
ile he let the breeze smooth over his face after throwing his cigarette in the trash. Something tugged at him; a familiar empty void as he stared out at the dark. Sometimes it was unbreakable, but he couldn't let it get that way. He had things to do, but wander his mind did, far out past the vacant parking lot and the trees, even the skies, past many galaxies and universes. Maybe it was just the helpess longing for just a bit of control in this very uncontrollable life.
He looked back to the doors. Feeling uneasy, he went back into the building and unlocked one of the offices with a master key he shouldn've had, shutting the door silently behind him. Footsteps echoed in the hallway, but no one would spot him hiding in the dark behind the locked glass door.
He eyed the phone on the office desk, feeling like a child up to no good more than a grown man. His palms started to tremble and drops of sweat poured from his forehead to his feet. Silence spilled all around him, and in it he wanted to hear was Leanne’s voice to calm a manifesting storm inside him. It was so loud in his head, so big, so uncontrollable, like a massive, dark rogue wave.
He stared blankly at his shadow on the white wall standing coldly in front of him, recalling the days he came across Leanne while she was bagging fruit. He recalled her when she was sitting on a stool, staring out at the streets with drifty eyes. And he certainly remembered the way her cheeks turned a rosy color on colder days. More than anything, he elicited her smiling at him, almost stopping him completely in his tracks.
He found himself always missing the smallest things about her, like the way her icy skin glowed in dusk's navy blue, and the way her dark eyes held a million feelings deep enough to fill an ocean. The feeling was too new to him, too exhausting. He'd seen it in the movies, heard it from his friends, read it in stories, mostly fairytale, but for such a thing as love at first sight to be real, couldn't seem plausible. He couldn't comprehend after all that time, past all the dark parts of his soul, that the strongest part of him could be touched by a different light.
But I'm not cut out for all that. To continue to be near Leanne wouldn't only be pointless, but it wouldn't, couldn't be love.
