by Ina Williams
“I’m sorry,” she said more firmly then she left the candle on a potting table and walked back into the house.
Molly didn’t want to see him again. She couldn’t. But she was fairly sure he was stuck there for the night. She left towels, pillows, and a blanket for him on the couch, then retreated to the safety of her room and locked the door behind her. She wasn’t afraid of him but she couldn’t take any more surprises. She wanted warning before he was in her presence again. What had she done that was so awful Elijah exploded at her that way and why did she feel so chastised by him? That was what bothered her the most. In the living room, before the power went out, she actually wanted to cause him bodily harm. Now that she had, all she felt was regret.
Elijah couldn’t sleep. The couch wasn’t the problem, he had definitely slept in worse places than the living room of his sparring partner. It wasn’t Molly either, not exactly her. It was the face she’d made when he was yelling at her, as if he’d hurt her. If he was honest, that was what he’d set out to do, to hurt her. He wanted to hurt her back for the candle, for the speech. But he knew that what he’d given was much worse than what he got. And now, even after what he’d done, here he was on her couch, wrapped in her blankets, in her house that she was paying him to fix.
Suddenly he realized what her face reminded him of—until that moment he didn’t know that it reminded him of anything, but it had and the thought was torturing him. The face she made while he screamed at her, it was his face, the way his face must have looked when Tolson screamed at him—scared and confused. She was afraid of him and the thought made him nauseous. She was a pain, but she was honest. In a world where almost everything felt built on some kind of lie, she was honest and he had berated her for it. He knew then that there would be no sleep.
Molly woke with a start. She had to remind herself where she was. She felt off balance and confused. There was nothing there to startle her, the storm had been over for hours and everything in the house was quiet, except her mind. She convinced herself that a glass of water might be just the thing to calm her.
She was already in the living room when she remembered that Elijah was asleep on her couch. Too close to the kitchen to turn back now, she tried to tiptoe. The floorboards of an old house are noisy traitors and it seemed that the softer she tried to step the louder the floor squeaked. After what seemed an eternity she made it to the kitchen, but now the feat was finding the box with the glasses. Stupid renovation, she thought to herself. She had just gotten everything situated and unpacked in the kitchen two weeks before the crew started. Everything had a proper place, but now that the cabinets and counters were all being redone everything was back in boxes. She searched for the one marked dishes in the greedy darkness, it covered everything. She finally found the box but then there was the matter of lifting one glass without clanking the others.
Now Elijah, who had found himself banned from sleep, was awake for all of this. In an effort to avoid any further contact with the victim of his outburst, he had feigned sleep. He was doing fine until Molly seemed to have trouble maneuvering her own kitchen. This amused him and he was trying to muzzle his laughter. Every clank of the dishes, every misstep was its own punchline and after she whispered a few more self-deprecating remarks, Elijah began to wonder if it would be easier for them both if he just came clean. He inhaled deeply to calm his laughter, sat up, and lowered his voice.
“You couldn’t sleep either…,” he started, but somewhere between “couldn’t” and “sleep” Molly, stunned to find that she was not alone with her thoughts, froze. The glass of water in her hand slipped through her fingers and crashed to the floor, shattering glass and spilling water everywhere.
Idiot he thought to himself. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.”
Her silhouette began to tremble and through the darkness he could see her moving her foot to step towards the living room.
“Don’t move!” He bolted up from the couch and put on his boots.
Molly, who was both comforted and mortified, stood quietly in the darkness afraid to move or speak or do anything. She felt Elijah’s hand on her back before she saw him, she flinched from the surprise of having him so close. He lifted her from the kitchen floor and walked her to the living room where he gently placed her feet on the floor. She couldn’t help feeling a bit like landing after flying—safe, but disappointed.
“Thank you,” she said much more softly than she’d intended.
In the dim light she caught him offer a sweet smile where the smug one used to live. She liked this one much better.
She watched as he took the broom from the back of the pantry door and began to sweep up the mess. She hadn’t realized how much he knew about the house. For all his faults, he ran a tight ship when it came to his crew and they were never allowed to leave for the day unless the house was as clean as they could get it without interrupting projects in progress. He was in the house almost every day of the week and she began to understand that kind of familiarity could be deceiving. This understanding made her think of her explosion. Her explosion made her think of the power outage, which made her think of the candle. She rose from the couch and walked back down the hallway.
Elijah looked up just in time to take her exit personally and he silently punished himself for wasting an opportunity to make things right. He was almost done sweeping up the glass in the kitchen when she came back with her arms full. She set more candles and a hand towel down on the card table she was using as a coffee table in front of the couch. The towel was wet and rung in one big knot.
Seeing her come back made him feel relieved. She was giving him a chance to make things better and he wouldn’t mess it up this time. He walked over and sat on the couch facing her.
“I’m sorry for scaring you earlier, in the garage” he said, not sure if there should be more or less to that apology.
“I’m sorry about burning you,” she returned. He laughed, still looking at her though she wouldn’t lift her face to look at him.
“How’s your arm?” she asked quietly, holding her hand out to receive his.
He extended his arm toward her, “it’s fine.”
Molly spotted the contrary truth with her own eyes. A red welt had formed on his forearm.
“I know that trick. My dad and my brother used to try that one all the time with my mom, this is not fine.” Molly quipped as she lit the remaining candles.
“Don’t take this the wrong way but, have you ever thought about investing in a flashlight?”
She smiled. He was still challenging her, but this felt different. He wasn’t sparring with her anymore.
“I’m sure I have like three flashlights in here, but ask me how many batteries I have.”
He chuckled to himself. She lifted the rag from the table and began work on Elijah’s arm. She wrung the towel out over the welt so a few drops of cold water landed on the blister. Elijah hadn’t realized how warm the spot had been until the cool water landed there.
She has a brother? Elijah thought to himself as Molly laid the cloth over his arm. Somehow he had never thought of her as having a life outside of this house, almost like how children feel about their teachers, as if they only exist at school. It dawned on him that he had done that on purpose. She was a client, and Elijah had never been in the habit of making small talk with his clients.
“Thanks again for sweeping up the glass,” Molly said after the silence drifted from peaceful to awkward.
“No problem. It’s the least I could do after causing you to break it in the first place.”
“True,” Molly joked.
Elijah snickered to himself and Molly caught a glimpse of what his face must have looked like as a child. Sweet and charming, she bet he had smiled himself out of lots of trouble.
Now that they had gotten off to a peaceful start Molly felt comfortable enough to prod.
“Can
I ask you something?”
“Sure,” He said adjusting the rag on his arm so that the welt was covered by a cool section.
“Why are you so mean?”
She’d asked it so sincerely. Her eyes were bright and she was looking right at him.
Elijah smiled, a little surprised by her candor. “I don’t think I’m mean,” he stated evenly.
“Really? Well what would you call it,” Molly asked too sweetly to be antagonizing.
“Focused,” he said plainly. Now it was he who looked at her with sincerity.
More impressed by the answer than she expected to be, Molly kept pressing, “Ok well, why are you so focused?”
“Building things, repairing things, it’s the only thing I’ve ever been good at. And the shop I run, the man who used to run it was the only person who ever invested enough in me to help me figure that out.” He hadn’t meant to be that honest.
Molly certainly appreciated it. She was starting to understand more and more by the moment. Working with such firm goals, the attention to details that even she hadn’t thought of, cleaning the house before leaving it each day—he wasn’t addicted to his work, he simply took pride in it. Instantly, she liked him more.
As is the case with honesty, it begets more honesty and the next few hours of darkness were filled with sincere, if not silly, conversation. Molly told Elijah about Havoc, he told her about the town (leaving off the more sordid details and sticking to the tourist charms). They talked about everything and nothing. They drank tea and ate leftovers and hinted at going to bed several times though neither pushed to follow through. They watched the sunrise from the porch and drank coffee. At about 6:30 the power came back on just in time for breakfast. He cooked while she talked and when the food was ready, she ate and he talked.
But at a quarter to eight the sleepless night got the better of them both. Elijah’s yawns were closer together than his words so Molly announced it was finally time to call it a night. She watched as Elijah tried to protest with half closed eyes and smiled to herself. She stood from her comfortable spot on the carpet in front of the fireplace and leaned over the card table to collect the last of the dishes. With his last bit of energy Elijah reached out to grab Molly’s wrist to stop her but his hand landed on her bare knee instead.
It hadn’t occurred to Molly over the past several hours that she was wearing only a white cotton nightgown. It was easy to forget. In the darkness it hadn’t mattered, neither of them could see much of anything, and by the first signs of light the conversation had made her feel relaxed and comfortable. But now, with his hand on her knee, she was very aware of her lack of attire. She was suddenly very glad she had worn a skirt yesterday, which had required her to shave her legs.
His hand was still there. Why wasn’t he moving it? Not that she wanted him to move, but some sort of movement would have been better than just lying there frozen.
She was wrong, his thumb began to sweep in soft graceful circles on the inside of her knee. This was worse, much worse. She felt dizzy and delirious and extremely grateful for her smooth legs, only now she couldn’t get that silly song out of her head, I feel pretty. I feel dizzy and sunny and fine! What a stupid thing to be thinking about at a time like this but she couldn’t help it, her head was swirling. Elijah sat up on the couch. He never took his hand from her knee, her heartbeat moved from her chest down to her belly then up to her throat.
He lifted his hand from her knee and stood in front of her, placing his hand on her waist. Now she was fairly sure she wasn’t breathing at all, which was strange considering that her heartbeat had moved all the way to her fingertips. She didn’t mean to touch his arm but all that heart-beating and lack of breathing had taken its toll and she needed to steady herself so she didn’t topple over. She wondered if the room was spinning for him too.
He must have seen the panic in her eyes, he must have liked it—that he had caused it—because he smiled. This smile was different, it was dangerous. This smile made her heart beat even faster, if that was possible, and made her miss him even though he was standing right in front of her. He gently brought his hand to her forehead and swept her bushy jet black hair behind her right ear with his forefinger. He drew himself to her and the force was like gravity, she couldn’t push away even if she wanted to. But she didn’t want to. She was close enough to feel his warm breath on her cheek. Then the doorbell rang.
It took them a moment to emerge from the vortex. By that the time the bell had been replaced by an insistent knock. Molly’s focus had shifted from Elijah’s lips to his eyes and this view was no better for reentering the earth’s atmosphere. Elijah, realizing that the person at the door was not leaving, reluctantly pulled away. Too agitated and distracted to realize it wasn’t his door to answer, he headed towards it. With him further away the quiet crumbled and her mind flooded with thoughts, though none were intelligible. Through the clutter in her mind she could make out a familiar voice, sweet and soft, but worried. It was Elsa.
“Where have you been?” she was saying urgently, “We’ve been calling you all night.”
Molly was still recovering but she was aware enough to know that this seemed strange. Why was Elsa here? How was Elsa here?
Molly turned around to see Elsa walk in with Elijah.
“Elsa, what are you doing here,” she managed to get out, folding her arms in front of her to cover her lack of clothing.
Elsa took in Molly’s wardrobe, not judgmental, just confused. “I’m just checking on my brother.”
What is it with women and their loud silences? Even though her eyes never left the road, his sister seemed to be burning a hole in the side of his head.
She was driving him back to his car which he had parked by the fallen tree the night before. The road was cleared earlier that morning and Elsa had panicked when she headed to Molly’s to ask if she’d seen Elijah and spotted his car seemingly abandoned on the way.
“What?” He finally exploded.
“I’m just trying to figure out what I just walked in on back there,” Elsa started calmly, pretending to focus on the road.
This would be an uncomfortable conversation to have with anyone, but there was no way that Elijah was about to have a conversation about women with his little sister.
“Nothing. I got stuck in the storm and Molly let me sleep on her couch.” The car filled up with quiet again and Elijah wondered if there were places in the world that used silence as torture.
He turned to face her. “Rae, you gotta stop doing that,” he pleaded.
“Doing what?” Elsa’s eyes never left the road. She had always been a responsible driver. She refused to put the car in drive before everyone was fastened in their seat belts.
“Just say what you want to say,” he said abruptly, hoping he was prepared for whatever it was she wanted to say.
“I don’t want to say anything. I’m just curious,” she stated matter-of-factly.
Elijah regretted it before he asked, “Curious about what?”
“Ok, if you were sleeping on the couch, why was Molly in the living room too? If nothing happened, why were her cheeks so red when I walked in? I’m just asking, no judgment.”
Elijah knew that Elsa Rae was one of the few people who actually meant it when she said no judgment. She worried, she pondered, she even prodded on occasion, but her heart and ears were always open to anyone who needed her.
“I’m not having this conversation with you.”
“Why not?” She asked, annoyed at the suggestion that they couldn’t share their lives with each other.
“Because you’re you, and I’m your brother.” He stated firmly as if he’d said something wise and conclusive instead of short and barely coherent.
“Look I really, really don’t want the details, but Molly and I are friends and I just want to make sure that she isn’t getting herself into a bad situation.
”
“Well, that sounded a little like judgment,” he muttered almost under his breath.
Was he pouting? Now she really wanted to know what happened.
“You know what I mean,” she said refusing to indulge his insecurities.
“No,” he lied. He knew exactly what she meant. Since Katy, Elijah’s romantic life had consisted of a series of one-nights strung together with loneliness and desperation. There was, ironically, no love involved in his love life.
“Elijah, I’m not judging you I just know you. You have a great heart, you just don’t want anybody else to know.”
“Look, your friend is safe. Nothing happened, we just talked.” Spotting his car on the opposite side of the road Elsa made a quick U-turn and parked her car behind his. She turned to face him and took one long hard look at him.
“Talk,” she demanded.
Elijah told her everything, the fight, the blackout, the blowup, and the conversation. When he got to the last part his eyes were soft and he could not seem to stop smiling. Elsa Rae began to see in her big brother something she had not seen in almost a decade, hope. He was bright with it and the light was contagious. She began to smile for him. He even shared the almost-kiss, though he left out the specifics of the buildup.
Then, in true Elijah fashion he attempted to undo everything with, “See, nothing.”
Elsa shook her head. “Elijah, tell me you understand that more happened to you last night than in the last ten years of you sleeping around with all of those girls.”
“Rae!” It was an accurate picture, but the fact that Elsa Rae was the one painting it made it sickening to hear.
“You like her.” She said it so plainly. Like it was obvious, like anyone in the world could see it, if they were looking.
He couldn’t even bring himself to refute it, but he definitely wasn’t going to admit it to her either.
“Thanks for the ride,” he said turning to exit the car.
