by Nora Flite
Surprised, my fingers brushed the shape of Leah's purse where it had been dropped absently by the door. Inside, the phone continued to vibrate, flooding me with curiosity. What if it's Vanessa, what if she needs something? My intention wasn't to spy, that wasn't something I ever considered. Yet, when I dug in there, gripping the device and holding it in my palm, a sharp wave of shame twisted in my stomach.
The name that was flashing on the screen, calling out impatiently, was Owen's.
Her ex, he's calling her. She said he'd been doing that for some time, now that I think about it.
In my hand, the phone went still, the call ending. Unable to look away, I watched the screen indicate there was a voice mail, the little icon informing me it was now one of twenty.
Twenty voice mails, what does he want from her? They're broken up, what will calling her over and over do?
Swallowing, noticing my dry mouth, I hurried to return it back to where I'd found it. Before I could let it go, it started shaking in my grip again. I didn't need to look, I was sure it was Owen once more. Don't answer it, don't even consider that. Just forget you even saw.
Forgetting was impossible, but I forced myself to shove the phone deep into Leah's purse. Even then, the low level hum of his calls was audible. Pacing my bedroom, I clenched my fingers into hard knots, crossing from one side of the rug to the next. I didn't know what to do, I'd never had to deal with something like this.
Does it bother her that he won't leave her alone? It has to, from what she said, the guy was terrible to her.
Escaping out onto the patio, I was finally free of the phone calls that tickled at my awareness. Out in the sun, the breeze cooling me down, I stared at Leah's art, focused on calming my pulse. I wasn't the type to get angry, not irrationally so, yet something about how he kept calling her was making rage boil in my gut.
With her hair wrapped in a towel, a robe covering her from shoulder to ankle, Leah stepped out into the light, smiling. The sweetness there, the pure look of contentment as her eyes fell on me, it almost melted away my conflicting emotions.
Almost.
Her dark eyes twinkled, then hardened, moving from my face to my fists. I hadn't noticed they were still coiled tightly, I worked to shake the cramps out of my fingers as fast as possible. “What's wrong?” She asked, her tone indicating any attempt to deny something was wrong would be identified as a lie.
“Your phone,” I said carefully, staring at her uneasy stance, “it keeps ringing.”
“Oh.” That response was so simple, she knew what I was talking about.
“Why does he keep doing that, calling you over and over?”
“I don't know.”
“Have you told him to stop?”
Leah narrowed her eyes at me, clutching her nails in her robe at her chest. “Have I told him to stop? Of course I have. Do you really think it's that simple?”
Her comment shut me down, the reality of the situation deflating my anger before it could grow any more. “No, you're right, of course it isn't. Sorry, it just... frustrates me, I guess, that he's not respecting your boundaries and leaving you alone.”
“Well,” she said, gathering her words slowly, “he was never good with the concept of 'no' or respecting me in the first place.”
“So what will you do?”
“What can I do that I'm haven't already?”
Lines molded on my forehead, my steps taking me to her, closing the gap. “Could you get a new phone plan?” Her reaction, such a guilty dart of her eyes to the ground, concerned me. “Leah?”
“It's... sort of his phone, his plan. I knew I'd eventually need to replace it, but I only have like, a hundred bucks to my name right now. I figured I'd mail it back to him if I made any money from this gallery.”
Dropping my face into my hands, a small laugh broke free. The sound surprised us both, Leah's eyes going wide as I stifled myself. “Sorry, it just seems like such an obvious solution. Turn it off, we'll mail it back to him, then be done with it.”
“But what will I do for a phone?”
“We'll get you a new one, but it isn't like you need one right now. Leah,” I said sincerely, gesturing with my hands, “isn't it worth it for the peace of mind?”
Clenching her jaw, I watched her tighten like an elastic, then rebound before my eyes. “Yes. You're right. I'll do that, I'll just cut the last silly tie and be done with him.”
Smiling, I hugged her close, smelling her freshly cleaned hair. “Good, that sounds like a plan.”
Her arms coiled around my shoulders, damp tresses getting my shirt wet. “I'll get changed, then go to the post office. But, first, I have a request.”
“Anything,” I said, unsure what she could ask for. Maybe a new phone? I'll get her one, if she even says as much.
Leah's mouth sought mine out, tongue sliding across my upper lip, teeth nibbling gently. The groan it stole from me made me flush, but I was already too pink from a rush of excitement for it to be easily noticed. “You agreed that you owed me for earlier, didn't you?”
Grinning sharply, I clutched her close, pulling her into my bedroom.
“Why yes,” my voice hushed out, “I believe I did.”
****
Later in the evening, as I watched Leah pulling away in her car, on her way to mail the phone back, I felt my own come to life in my pocket. Still waving after her, my fingers dug it free, flicking it to my ear without a look at the number. “Hello?”
“Hey, Deacon!” Tim's voice rang out, clear and jubilant. “What are you up to right now?”
“Nothing much,” I admitted, turning to lean against a telephone pole by the street. “Why, is something up?”
He laughed softly, sounding a little amused. “I was thinking about how you wanted to get lunch before, have you eaten yet? I know it's getting closer to dinner, but--”
“No,” I said quickly, silencing him. “I haven't eaten, I'd love to get something with you and catch up!”
“Well great! Want to meet me over at the little thai food place by Cahuenga and Barrington?”
I was already heading to my car, key turning in the door. “Perfect, I can taste the pad thai already.” Clicking the phone shut, hiding it away, I pulled out from the curb and began the short journey to meet with Tim.
Feeling wonderful, if I had to name my mood, my fingers twisted the radio on to add some music to my world. With fingers drumming on the steering wheel, one foot tapping to the rhythm away from the gas pedal, I found myself wondering how things had gotten so good.
Was it really bothering me that much, knowing she had his phone? It seemed ridiculous, but I couldn't deny how light I felt right then, knowing she was on her way to toss the thing in the mail.
My quick, joyful ride ended as I parked in the tiny space beside the beaten up yellow building. I never remembered the name of the thai place, it was always just 'the thai place' to me.
Glancing up, stepping from my car, I shaded my eyes from the sun so I could see the faded sign. Oh, right, 'Mint Garden.'
I was sure I'd forget that the next time I decided to go there.
Crossing through the jingling entrance, hit by the cool, air conditioned room that was hardly bigger than my living space, my eyes found the grinning face of Tim. He had beaten me, amazingly, which made me squint at him suspiciously.
“Hey, Deacon!” He called, waving right up until I sat across from him. “Man, it's good to see you.”
“Yeah, we really need to hang out more often. Things have just been... uh, hm, busy?” That's sort of true.
Tim nodded in understanding, grabbing a glass of water from the pair a pretty young woman had abruptly set down in front of us. Smiling my thanks at her, my palms slid on the slippery surface, icy liquid refreshing on my tongue. He followed my example, then sighed before speaking. “You're right, it's been sort of crazy lately.”
There was a heavy moment of silence, each of us weighing the others expression. He knows about Vanessa and Greg, but he
's wondering if he should mention it? Am I right? I decided to test it, giving him an opening to delve further into the strange situation. “At least Leah and Vanessa are getting along again, something good came out of all this.”
Visibly, I saw him relax, that smile growing, as if whatever had been weighing it down had crumbled. “I wasn't sure about bringing that up. The whole thing is terrible, I'm glad Vanessa is holding it together though. She told me she had been suspicious for awhile.”
Perhaps I was just on the ball that day, but his words, the fact he had beaten me here, made me realize something else entirely. “Were you and her hanging out together before you came here?”
The flicker of surprise was my answer, yet the way he twisted to fight back the ugly crinkles of guilt just left me more curious than before. That's weird, what was that all about?
“Uh, yeah, we were. She's... sort of been leaning on me some, ever since you found Greg and Talia together. She called me super late the night it happened, it's become a daily thing, I guess, ever since.”
“Well,” I said carefully, “she probably needs the contact and company.”
“You don't sound so convinced.” He was smiling, but his laugh was reluctant.
Sipping my water, my shoulders lifted in a small shrug. “It's not my business, but you and her have a history. You know how much she was broken up over you two splitting before, I just don't want either of you getting into some big messy... thing, again. Does that make sense?”
Tim took a deep breath, his eyes frozen on his hands upon the table. “I get what you're saying, of course I'm doing my best to be careful with her. It's just—is it so weird if her and I hang out?”
“No,” I said, shaking my head. “It's not weird. Just keep it in mind that she's vulnerable and sad right now, she might get attached all over again. You know her better than I do, you dated her for some time.”
“I don't think I know her as well as you think,” he mumbled, showing me a weak grin. “Can I tell you something?”
“Of course you can.”
“It doesn't leave this table.”
Interested by his serious tone, I leaned closer, fingers clenching on my lap. “Done.”
Tim waited a few seconds, perhaps considering if he would share whatever he held in the privacy of his mind with me. “The truth is, when Vanessa and I split, I actually didn't expect her to date anyone else.”
“You mean as quick as she did?”
“No,” he said softly, “as in, date again. At all. Deacon, she was in love with me. I hurt her worse than Greg did with cheating on her, if I'm honest. She thought we were going to get married, all of that stuff, and then I had to be the one to tell her no.”
My mouth was dry, I sucked down the rest of my water in a deep swig. What do I say to that? His words hit too close to home for me, called to mind the dull ache of my own memories. “Tim, listen. You shouldn't have expected her not to move on--”
“No, that's what I'm saying.” He stared at me, so intensely it made my arm hairs prickle. “I don't think she ever did.”
And it made sense, as he said it, the concept that Vanessa had not actually gotten over him. Is that why she isn't as upset over Greg cheating on her than I expected her to be? “Tim, if you think that, you can't... You seriously shouldn't be hanging out with her alone, I mean, she must still have feelings for you. It's going to mess her up if she gets close all over again and you walk away.”
He hung his head, ruffling his hair with a small, biting laugh. “I don't know what to do, Deacon. She probably does feel that way about me still, I always felt like she did. I don't want to hurt her again, not at all. She needs me though, how can I turn her away?”
Imagining Vanessa dealing with any further rejection made my stomach hurt. “I don't know. I wish I had better advice, Tim. I don't want to see her suffer.”
“I don't want to see that, either. When she's with me, she seems so happy.” Something warmed in his gaze, a hint of fondness. Desperately, I wanted to ask him why they didn't just start dating again, but I knew it wasn't my place. I had a strong suspicion Tim wasn't completely aware of his feelings, or how to deal with them.
Our conversation shifted after the waitress returned, taking our orders, bringing them to us in minutes since we appeared to be the only customers in the restaurant.
Digging into my pad thai, indulging my hunger, I almost choked at Tim's next question. “So, how are you and Leah?”
“How are we?” I repeated stupidly, rubbing my mouth with a napkin. “We're fine, uh, really good, actually.”
“Yeah?” He asked, grinning at either my admission or my discomfort, maybe both. “I'm glad to hear that. All this talk about breakups and everything, I'm really relieved to see you happy with someone else after Bethany.”
I wish everyone would stop bringing her up.
“Yeah.” I forced a smile, using the meal to give myself a moment to consider my words. “It's been good.”
“Leah seems like a nice girl,” he went on, poking at the noodles on his plate. “Can I ask something?”
“Shoot.”
“Are you worried about... all the stuff she went through?”
The pad thai felt heavy in my belly, a knot of metal instead of delicious chicken and peanuts. “What do you mean?”
Again, he flashed that guilty wince, tapping his chopsticks on the edge of his dish. “Sorry, I thought you—forget I mentioned it.”
He knows about her ex, doesn't he.
“Vanessa told you,” I stated, knowing I was right. He lifted his eyebrows, unable to meet my eyes. “I don't care about her past. She's not those things, she's certainly not to blame for what he did to her.”
“That's not what I meant,” Tim blurted apologetically. “I don't know the details, Vanessa just told me she'd come here because her ex-boyfriend was some abusive guy, that she needed to get away. I know she isn't to blame, I don't want you to even think I was implying that. I meant... are you worried it affects her, or will affect her?”
My knee-jerk reaction was to deny that I had any worries, yet my brain reminded me all too quickly about the look of fear on Leah's face that day in my hallway. How she had wrenched away in terror when I had grabbed her, the wide, vulnerable eyes that had looked at me, but clearly, seen someone else entirely.
“I'm not worried.” The lie made my mouth taste like battery acid.
“Alright,” he said gently, as if walking on egg shells. “That's good. Uh, anything else new?”
My tongue was numb, the food ashen and unappealing. “She actually has an art gallery happening in a few days, I'd love if you came. It's being held in the same building as mine, replacing mine, in fact.”
“That's fantastic!” He said cheerfully, so I let myself smile to match his own. “I'll be there for sure. Man, you're really doing a lot for her. I'm so glad you guys are doing so well.”
Pushing the food around on my plate, my mind haunted by his question from before, by visions of those teary brown eyes, my own voice was dull in my ears.
“Yeah. Me too.”
Chapter 24.
For several long minutes, Leah had been standing outside the doors of the gallery space. She'd covered her mouth with her hands, unblinking, vibrating with stunned energy. I was a little scared to wake her from this state, part of me also wanted to let her indulge the feeling as long as she could.
“Are you okay?” I finally asked, grinning from how she jumped.
Glancing at me, the liquid edges of her eyes warned me she might start crying, yet only controlled excitement escaped her lips. “Is this really happening?” Her hands muffled her words, adding to the effect of this hilarious scene.
“Should I pinch you, to make sure you aren't dreaming?”
“It might take more than that.”
“I'm willing to try a few things,” I said, wickedly amused. It was hard not to be caught up in her glee. “Are you ready to go inside?”
Wordless, she nodded,
fingers shaking as she pushed open the doors. Inside, the room wasn't much different than when my own art had hung. The walls were the same shade of grey paint, the lamps cast the familiar glow. Yet, somehow, wandering through and viewing the canvases on display, it felt like a new place entirely.
Leah had finished her paintings yesterday morning, I'd done her the favor of bringing them down to hang. She'd wanted to come, but I had insisted she take a nap, get back her energy for the next day.
Now, she was apparently made of nothing but energy, skipping around, gasping at her art as it surrounded her. My eyes found hers, she pointed with her arms, spreading them wide, twirling. In the long green dress she'd borrowed from Vanessa for the occasion, she reminded me of a leaf in the breeze, stunning, free. The laptop bag she'd brought, hanging from one shoulder, swung with her movements.
I'd asked her about it when she'd shown up with the computer in tow, her only explanation being that she wanted to let a friend know how she was doing. Her caveat had been that, if the gallery went badly, she wasn't going to email them at all. When I'd told her that was impossible, of course it would go well, she'd told me not to be so sure.
“Deacon, this is fantastic! I don't even know what to do with myself! Are people really going to come see what I've made tonight?”
“That's the plan.” Linking my fingers at the small of my back, I studied the art, walking slowly till I was beside her. “Do you want me to rearrange anything? I wasn't exactly sure what order to hang these in, I went with my gut.”
“No!” She stated, shaking her head, hair flipping about. “It's perfect, you have a better eye than me.”
My smile was kind, even with the brief spark of envy that visited me. I'm not so sure about that anymore.
“Do we need to do anything else?” She asked, twisting to view the gallery as a whole. “I've never done anything like this before, you know? When will people show up, do I need to talk to them?”
Tucking my hands into the pockets of my coat, the chill of fall strong that day, I shrugged. “They'll want to talk to the wonderful, beautiful, amazing woman who painted all of this, of course.” It was meant as a compliment, so I wasn't prepared for the uneasy, dubious look she shot me.
