Okay, he’s not going to make it easy. So be it. I am determined to always say what I mean from now on. “I meant about you staying at my place again tonight. I did some thinking. I don’t think I can do that.”
He puts the book down and scratches his temples. “I don’t have to stay. I’ll leave after dinner.”
“Oh, did you find somewhere else to stay?”
“It doesn’t matter. It should not be a concern for you.”
He sounds sincere. There’s no bitterness in his voice, not a detectable amount anyway, but that doesn’t put my mind at ease. “So, why are we here? You didn’t ask me to come to the library to study recipes?”
He shakes his head. “Denise asked me to do this. She would have asked you, too, if you had shown up yesterday.”
Right, my mishap. “Okay, tell me what she wants.”
He leads me to a different part of the library where the shelves are stacked with books concerning the animal kingdom.
“Denise had this idea about how to find more people interested in our canine friends,” he says as he takes a bunch of photographs out of the pocket of his jacket. “She wants us to find the closest breed for each of our dogs and make copies of the relevant information we’ll find.”
“Why?” I say, unable to guess her intentions, taking down from the shelves a book called Dog Breeds: A to Z.
“We will use the information to create unique descriptions for each dog. They should be funny and interesting to read. Then we’ll create flyers and pass them around town inviting people to our first annual dog fair.”
“We’re having a dog fair?” I say.
“At the park, yeah. They’ll be able to pick a dog based on the information and pictures on the flyers. Then they can meet the dog they like at the shelter if they’re interested and hopefully many of them will find a home.”
“An annual fair? So we just have flyers?”
“No. There’ll be games, refreshments, rummage sales, things like that.”
“Sounds like a lot of work,” I say. “I hope it works.”
Nate looks at me through squinted eyes. “The truth is we can’t afford to keep all of them, Grace.”
I know what he means. Every effort should be made to ensure our cute dogs find decent homes and the shelter stays open to receive new residents.
“Couldn’t we have found dog breed info online?” I say as I take my book to a small table and sit down to study it.
“Do you have a printer?” Nate says taking the seat next to me.
I shake my head. “No printer at the moment, no.”
“Exactly.”
Things begin to make sense. “Denise didn’t tell you to get the info at the library, did she? That part was your idea.”
“Guilty as charged. I noticed you didn’t have a printer. C’mon, it’s more fun here than being stuck in front of a screen.”
“All right, let’s get started,” I say, longing to get this done and over with so I can go home and sink myself into a hot bubble bath with some of the magic oils that Taylor gave me. The day has been an emotional roller coaster.
We study the photographs of our dogs against the different breeds trying to determine what would be a good fit, jotting down notes. We work silently until a thought pops into my head.
“Why did you leave this morning without saying goodbye?” I ask him.
“I didn’t want to be in your way and I had some things to do.”
I nod as he reaches over to grab a book that’s on my side of the table. He smells good, like fresh soap mixed with honey, which probably means he’s had a shower. Not exactly homeless after all.
“I should have said goodbye,” he says. “I’m not used to having a lot of people around.”
“I’m just one person, but no worries.”
I jot down a few breed names on a piece of paper. Labrador Retriever, Boxer, Bulldog, Chihuahua.
“Why are you writing that down?” Nate teases when he takes a peek at my notes. “Chihuahua? You think we have anything remotely similar?”
“No, but it’s a fun word to write. Ever wonder why dogs have such bizarre breed names?”
“I don’t think they’re bizarre at all.”
“Right. A boxer?”
“I’m sure there’s some perfectly simple and logical explanation.”
“Do you think we’ll find a place for Annie?” I say after a short pause. Annie is my absolute favorite among the many puppies and kittens I have cared for at the shelter. She’s sweet and tender and intelligent and she’s escaped death more than once.
“Are you kidding me? If any of those dogs has a chance, Annie is definitely on top of the list.”
“You love her, too, don’t you?
“Does one love an animal?” he ponders.
“I hope you’re kidding?”
“Yes, I love Annie,” he says. “It’s impossible not to. She’s amazing.”
I shove him slightly but he’s right. We both helped Annie recover from terrible wounds when she first arrived at the shelter. That fact kind of makes us responsible for her. “I’ll be happy when she gets a home but I’ll miss her.”
He puts his hand on top of mine in a reassuring manner. “Why don’t you take her home? You could be the one to adopt her.”
“I’ve thought about it but my life’s a mess right now and my place is too small even for me. It wouldn’t be fair to Annie.”
Nate nods. His hand squeezes mine softly as he stares into my eyes. “I don’t know anything about your life,” he says.
“There’s a good reason for that,” I try to joke. “It’s totally boring and uninteresting. Lame, as you almost put it last night.”
“Hey, I would never say lame, maybe pathetic. There’s a difference.”
“Well, thank you. That makes me feel so much better. Promoted from lame to pathetic. Awesome.”
“You’re welcome, but are we sure it’s a promotion?”
“You’re so not cool,” I say. It’s probably ironic, but I feel relaxed for the first time in a long time. A time that I’d rather not reminisce. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I don’t know anything about your life, either, Nate.”
I’ve barely finished my sentence when he leans in and plants a kiss on my lips. My relaxation vanishes. The shock paralyzes my mind. I don’t know why, but I let him kiss my lips softly for as long as he likes. His bruised cheek brushes against mine but his soft stubble doesn’t bother me.
The smell of fresh soap blends with the musk scent of his muscular body. I’m doing my best to control myself and not reach under his shirt to feel that six pack of his, but as he pushes his tongue in my mouth, I gently pull away.
“Nate, we’re in a library,” I remind him.
“So, you’re not mad?” he says, relieved somehow.
“I’m not sure what I am. It’s just inappropriate.”
“Did it feel inappropriate?” he says.
I don’t answer. I just stare at him in a way that lets him know I’m done answering his questions. I’m not ready to embark on anything new and I don’t want to lie about loving the way he kissed me. I’m in charge.
He reads my thoughts. “Hey, it doesn’t have to be complicated,” he says. “Let’s have dinner while going over our notes and creating our leaflets.”
I nod, grateful for his quick thinking and his generous effort to make things easy and simple. “That works,” I agree.
“I have some shopping to do,” he says as he gets up. “I’ll meet you in an hour back at your place.”
“Make that an hour and a half,” I say, refusing to sacrifice the precious bubble bath I’ve had in mind since leaving work.
He walks away and my heart is still racing. I find myself standing on the sidewalk outside the library not sure how I got here. Disorientation and wonderment course through my body making me light headed.
When my mind starts working again, it hungers labels for what just happened. Love at first sight or spontaneous
lust or the desire to disappear from everything. Strangely, it felt safe and trustworthy. It felt like it should have happened and so I allowed it.
For the first time since Jack, my heart pounds out of control with electric curiosity. I didn’t know if that would ever happen again. I think of something I read recently, a Japanese saying: If it’s good, hurry.
What on Earth am I waiting for? Years have been falling away with me wandering alone through the world. If Nate is good, why shouldn’t I hurry? Princes don’t grow on trees. Life is a series of attempts.
I need to stop. All my thoughts are sounding like fortune cookies.
Suddenly I remember Nate’s face, all swollen, bruised and covered with small cuts. He said he would not explain. Who the hell is this man coming to my house to cook Aloo Gobi and what the hell is Aloo Gobi?
He could be anyone.
Chapter 6
The water turns pink as it hits the bathtub with the red and white salts, filling the small space with fragrant steam. I take off my shirt slowly and drop it to the floor. I try to relax my shoulders with circular motions and then roll my head slowly around my neck, all per Taylor’s instructions.
Once the bathtub is filled with water and frothing bubbles, I take off my jeans and underwear in one quick motion and test the temperature with my big toe. I let my whole body plop down into the hot water instead of immersing myself slowly like I usually do. When the initial shock of the scorching sensation on my skin fades away, I lie back and close my eyes to shut out the world and my troubles.
After a few moments, I realize that it’s not going to work as planned. I can’t shut down my brain but keep rehashing the revelations of the past twenty-four hours. I can’t help but think of Jack and how his life might be altered forever. No matter how things ended, there was a time when he meant more to me than anyone on the planet.
And then there’s Nate who will be at my apartment in less than an hour to cook dinner for me. I should probably make sure my pots and pans are clean – which is always doubtful. I skipped the kitchen when I got home, left the wine bottle I bought on the coffee table and headed straight to the bathtub.
Maybe I should have a drink before Nate gets here. A glass or two should relax me as the bubble bath doesn’t seem to be doing much in that regard. Or maybe consuming alcohol right now will overwhelm me and make me feel guilty thoughts about all the things I have done wrong.
I wipe myself dry and pull the plug to empty the tub while various new thoughts pop into my head. Am I really sure I want to get closer with Nate? What if I’m sending out the wrong signals? It wouldn’t be the first time I’d chicken out at the last moment and let a guy wonder what went wrong.
I decide to go through my closet and find something that’s a bit sexy but doesn’t scream slut. It’s harder than you’d think. I try on outfit after outfit and nothing seems to serve the purpose I have in mind. One blouse smashes my breasts – admittedly rather big for my small figure – to nothingness, while the next lets them hang out voluptuously like discounted merchandise on display.
I furiously pile everything back in the closet in one messy heap before putting on a clean pair of jeans and a peach T-shirt. How stupid would I look if Nate realized I’d been preparing myself for him? Or maybe if I dress all casual like this it will be a warning for him to stay away. Maybe I don’t want him to stay away. At this moment, I’m not sure of anything.
I settle down on the couch with my glass of discounted Cabernet after I make sure the kitchen is in decent shape.
Nate should be here within fifteen minutes.
I try to watch the news while I wait but don’t seem to be able to concentrate so I get up and look for some aromatic candles. I find them in my desk drawer and light three of them, one for the coffee table and the other two for the top of the short bookshelves.
I straighten my hair in the mirror and apply some more lipstick. I stare at the clock. It’s 8:00 pm already. Nate should arrive any moment.
The thing that’s missing is music. I think long and hard about what to pick and in the end I settle on the only CD of jazz music I have. The sounds of John Coltrane’s sax fill up my living room with their intensity and smoothness. I decide to lower the volume as I’m not sure Nate will enjoy this kind of music.
I start to wonder why he’s late. He should have been here already. Did I misunderstand the arrangements? Is he giving me a little more time so I don’t feel rushed in some way?
At eight thirty, I decide I should probably give him a call. There’s no point sitting on the couch waiting for him and imagining the worst case scenarios: a car crash, another fight, him changing his mind.
I think all that and yet I can’t bring myself to dial his number. I can’t be the overbearing girlfriend before we’re even dating. The last thing I want is to sound needy. I stare at the phone on the coffee table and it stares back.
If something came up, he would call, wouldn’t he? I count the seconds in my head, slowly, painfully. I stop at one hundred and pick up the phone. I find his number and hit call. I wait as his phone rings and rings before a voice informs me that the number I’m calling has no voicemail set up.
Feeling lonely is a shoddy affair and I want nothing to do with it. I’ve trained myself over the last couple years not to feel alone and not to allow self-pity to creep in. It hasn’t been easy but I’m finally there and I do not intend to let a random incident ruin all my hard work.
It ends here. I’m not going to embarrass myself any further, checking if the ringer on my phone is on or if I’ve called the right number. He knows where to find me and if anything has happened to him, I’ll find about it tomorrow at the shelter. It’s all I can do for someone I barely know.
I take my shoes off and rub my feet. The worst part about falling in love is the feeling of inadequacy and dependency it causes within us and it also happens to be the part I don’t want to experience again.
I need simple things and, luckily, I didn’t have the time to fall in love with Nate nor him with me. It’s possible we entertained the thought for a second or two, or maybe only I did. It doesn’t matter. It’s over now. I can go back to rebuilding my life, slowly but steadily.
The phone rings as I blow out the rose scented candles and I run to get it like a mad woman whose hair is on fire. Too keyed up to check the number, I freeze like the dead people of Pompeii in a weird position – my foot up on the coffee table, my left hand on the back of my head – when I hear Jack’s voice.
“I can’t calm down,” he says. “I don’t think I’ll be able to sleep tonight. Can I come over?”
It takes me a moment to respond. “Why? So we can both stay up?”
“Wow, Grace, I don’t remember you being so snappy.”
I want to tell him that people change and that I am no exception, but truth is overrated and sometimes we just need to shut the fuck up and support those who need to be supported. “I’m sorry,” I say. “It’s not you, it’s been a bad day overall.”
“Anything I can do?”
“Not really, I just need rest.”
There’s silence on the other end, so much so I’m worried the line has gone dead. I feel my hands get sweaty and clammy. I wait and wait until in the end his voice comes in intervals. “Yeah... you should rest... rest is good... we’ll talk tomorrow.”
“Sure,” I manage to say before he hangs up.
I feel like a terrible person for not telling him the truth, for letting him squirm in vain. I should find the courage to tell him that even though I care for him, we’re not bonded anymore and I shouldn’t be the first person he thinks of calling when he’s in trouble.
It’s doubtful he has a girlfriend right now, but there are people in his life he can depend on. He has plenty of friends, he has his parents and his sister. I have no one and it’s not fair of him to lay all his troubles on me.
At the same time, I want to help him any way I can, just not at the expense of my sanity. If in his panic he decides that
rekindling what we once had would be a good idea, I’ll have no choice but to correct him. I have no interest in a relationship with him now or ever again. That ship has sailed.
Coltrane’s smooth sax crescendos and recedes with the ever darkening thoughts of my pitiful evening. I set down my wine glass right after I seriously consider hurling it at the wall and smashing it into a dozen pieces.
I don’t have the budget for that kind of drama.
Chapter 7
It’s been three days since I began working at Taylor’s aromatherapy shop after her very generous offer and how has it gone so far? Yesterday I came to work four hours late. Today, I show up with a serious hangover and a rotten mood. I’m quite the embodiment of professionalism and work ethics.
I don’t know what I was thinking when I took that bottle of Cabernet to bed with me last night. I probably wasn’t thinking at all. I don’t hold my liquor very well. I always suffer the morning after, feeling like my head is about to explode, which is exactly how I feel right now.
“Check how many sandalwood samples we have in the back,” Ashley says.
I guess please isn’t part of her vocabulary. I do as she says. All I want is for this day to be over quickly and with the least amount of pain possible.
I have not decided yet whether I will go to the shelter or not, even though it’s obvious that I should as I’ve already missed one shift. I just wish I knew how I’m going to deal with Nate if he’s there.
“Thirty,” I say as I return to the front counter.
“What?” Ashley says.
“Thirty samples. In the back. You know, you asked me to count them.”
“Oh, that. Thirty, okay.”
Apparently she doesn’t know how to say thank you either. I should make a list with all the words that burn holes on Ashley’s tongue. Right after I get rid of the vise around my head.
I stare out the shop window hoping that Fridays aren’t too busy. So far so good. It’s been an hour since we opened and only two customers have showed up. Of course, fewer customers is not a good thing for the store or Taylor but it’s not like my wishful thinking can affect that so I decide not to feel guilty over my selfish thoughts.
Beautiful Ruin Page 4
