She must have texted me at least twenty times over the past two days, asking me all sorts of questions. For a moment, I thought she was getting cold feet. I thought she was going to back out of our plan. That wouldn't have been good. It would've set me back. I’m so glad I was able to alleviate her worries and put her mind at ease. It's what I do. I’m a master at providing relief.
Thirty minutes later there's a knock on my door. I waltz over to the foyer and turn the handle.
“There’s my girl.” I flash a genuine smile. “No turning back now,” I reach out and embrace her.
“Here I am. I made it. My whole life packed in the back of my Jeep.” She looks at me as if she’s about to be sick.
“Why don't you park in the garage and bring in the items you’ll need for the night. We can unpack the rest of your belongings in the morning.”
“Okay.”
“I was thinking about ordering take-out food. Do you prefer Chinese or Italian?”
“A pizza would taste good right about now. It’s Friday night, after all.”
“Is pizza some sort of tradition?” I don’t quite understand her meaning.
“Yeah, we always order pizza on Fridays.”
“Then a pizza it is,” I say with a hesitant breath.
Val walks back to her vehicle and I slide my phone from my pocket. I order a thin crust, veggie pizza. I can’t handle heavy cheese and thick bread; it’s too much. I don’t want to wake up all bloated in the morning. In my book, pizza should only be eaten on special occasions. Although today could probably count as one of those occasions.
I'll let it go this time because we’re celebrating. But I will not allow this habit to become a tradition… on Fridays or any other night.
After polishing off three slices of pizza each, we sit on the couch next to each other. I hand Val the remote while I pour us second glasses of wine.
“Pick whatever movie you want to watch. I’m open to anything.”
“I love mysteries and old-fashioned psychological thrillers. You know, the ones that make you think,” she replies.
I take a sip of wine, holding her gaze, wondering if she can sense my thoughts.
“How about you?” She reaches for her glass. “What's your favorite movie genre?”
“I like a good action-adventure.”
Clicking through the remote, she finds her thriller, and I curl up next to her, putting my arm around her shoulder. Leaning in, I kiss her softly on the cheek and then settle back to enjoy the show.
After an hour, she starts nodding off and misses the end of the movie. Somehow I have the feeling she’s seen it before. I gently nudge her, wake her from her slumber and help her to bed, calling it a night.
The next morning I let her sleep in as I mosey into the kitchen to make breakfast. A half-hour later, I hear footsteps padding down the hallway. She soon appears, standing at the edge of the counter rubbing her eyes.
“It smells wonderful in here,” she yawns, stretching her arms.
“Good morning. Care for some coffee?”
“Yes, please.”
I pour her a steaming cup, placing it on the counter.
“Thanks.” Wrapping her hands around the mug, she takes a long sip.
“How about a spinach omelette to go with that?”
“Okay, thank you.” She slides onto the barstool and watches me as I maneuver around the kitchen dressed in my boxers.
“So, what's on the agenda today?” she asks.
“I have a few phone calls to make after breakfast. After that, I'm free. I thought we could take a bike ride down to the beach. I need to burn off that pizza from last night.”
“Sounds like a plan; I need to stretch. My back is a little sore from yesterday… from driving all day.”
I think about breaking the news to her over breakfast but decide to wait and save it for later. There’s no use throwing a curveball at her so early in the morning.
I put on a T-shirt and sweatpants and go downstairs to check the air in the bike tires. Val offers to do the dishes and puts everything away. It’s nice to see her stepping up without me having to ask her. It’s been less than twenty-four hours and she already seems to feel at home. Too bad we won’t be spending much time here together. Sometimes that is the way things go. Everything happens for a reason, they say.
We pedal our way down to the beach and stop, parking our bikes. As we stroll along the boardwalk, I eye an empty bench. Taking her hand, I guide her over to it and sit down beside her. I figure there’s no perfect time to break the news to her.
I gather my thoughts but they’re interrupted as her phone starts ringing. I watch as she furiously digs through her purse.
“Hello,” she says. Then, “I’m sorry. I totally forgot. I know, I know, I meant to. We had dinner, and then I fell asleep. Yeah, I'm okay. Sorry to make you worry. Are you okay? Is everything okay there? Right now? We’re at the beach. Yes, I will. I promise I will. Okay. Talk to you later.”
“What was that all about?” I ask, a bit concerned.
“Cindy. I forgot to call her when I arrived last night. She was worried about me.”
“Sounds like she’s looking out for you.”
“Yeah, she’s a good friend.”
A good friend with bad timing, I think to myself.
15
Valerie
One morning I woke up to a note on the nightstand. It read, ‘gone to get groceries; be back soon.’ David had been leaving me all kinds of memos. Some were love notes and others were reminders and instructions.
The day before, it was ‘don’t forget to unplug the toaster after you use it’ and the previous week, ‘turn off the lights when you leave the room and don’t use the clothes dryer for more than thirty minutes.’ At
