“I’ll stay on to train whomever you hire.”
“I’m sure I won’t need you for the whole two weeks. Unless you insist…”
I can’t imagine making it through the next two hours, never mind the next two weeks!
“Whatever’s easiest. I’m just trying to be accommodating.”
“Oh, yes, you’re very accommodating,” she said, looking at me archly.
What was that supposed to mean? I plastered my tongue to the roof of the mouth, a move which, according to Daniel, made it impossible to reveal how annoyed you are. He was right. I had the sudden urge to giggle.
“Thanks for being so understanding.”
“Understanding?” She looked me up and down. “Oh, I understand, believe me.”
She continued to appraise me while I tried to figure out what the hell she was getting at.
“Anyway, I should get to work. Shall I try to find a spot for Archie Junior?”
“I beg your pardon?”
“Archie Junior.” I gestured to the plant. “Shall I try to find him a home?”
She dismissed my comment with a wave of her hand. “Do whatever you want with it. Don’t interrupt me unless there’s an emergency.”
She slammed her office door, and I smiled as I pulled a chair over to the bookshelf, climbing up to rest the plant where his predecessor had sat.
“AJ, I hope you have a long and happy life here,” I said, arranging the leaves along the shelves. “But I wouldn’t hold your breath.”
I looked at the plant sadly because, let’s be honest, as soon as I was gone, AJ would be toast. Maybe I’d try to smuggle him out with me on my last day. Archie Junior would come and live with me, a souvenir of the day I’d finally agreed to Daniel’s wishes. He wanted to catch me? Well, this was it. I was about to start a free fall with absolutely no safety net.
Buying me pretty dresses and striped panties was one thing, but truly being there to break my fall? That was something else entirely.
Euphoria? Panic? I couldn’t decide which emotion was winning. As I rode the subway, I imagined the look of surprise on Daniel’s face when I told him I’d quit. The thought made me smile, but then a wave of anxiety washed over me, and the next moment, I was wringing my hands together.
Fuckity fuck, what have I done?
I must have repeated the cycle at least five times, trying to convince myself everything would be okay, only to realize a few moments later I had absolutely no way of earning money and would have to start dipping into the spending money I’d saved for my trip.
Inside Daniel’s condo, I closed my eyes and took several deep breaths. I had to get a grip before he came home from his meeting with Martin.
This was the first time I’d been there alone. It was quiet. Too quiet. I turned on some music and made my way into the bedroom where I undressed and stood in the closet in my underwear, admiring the other dress Daniel had bought me. Then I spent a few minutes going through the top drawer of the dresser where all of my new bras and panties were neatly folded, picking them up one at a time to touch the soft fabrics.
“I think I’ve died and gone to heaven.”
I whirled around, my hand over my heart. “Daniel! You scared the shit out of me.”
“Sorry.” He laughed. “I thought you’d have heard me come in. Look at you.” He whistled through his teeth as he crossed the room to pull me into his arms. “What a sight to come home to.”
His lips sought mine, and as our lips parted, I felt a sudden pang in my chest. The sharp pain worked its way up into my throat where it became a dull ache. Tears welled up in my eyes, and a small sob escaped my lips. He looked at me worriedly as the tears spilled onto my cheeks.
“What the hell? Are you okay? What is it?”
I laughed through my tears. “I don’t even know.”
I clasped my hands around his neck and held onto him, letting him rub my back and comfort me. Finally, he pushed me away gently so he could see my face.
“Aubrey, what’s going on?”
I shook my head and smiled weakly. “There’s nothing to worry about. I’m fine. It’s just—well, I quit.”
“You quit?”
“My job. I quit my job.”
“You’re serious?”
I shrugged self-consciously. “I gave two weeks’ notice.”
“Holy fuck, that’s amazing!”
He swung me around, kissing me with complete abandon while I alternated between laughing and crying.
“I can’t believe it. This is—What happened? Did she upset you? What did she say? Tell me everything—no, wait. Hang on. You stay here. I’ll…Just give me a minute, all right?”
He was grinning as he babbled, surprised but obviously thrilled with my news. He dashed out of the room, and I took the opportunity to blow my nose and dab my eyes. I pulled on my silk wrap and flopped onto the bed, propping the pillows behind me. Daniel returned with a bottle of champagne and two flute glasses.
“Champagne?” I laughed. “It’s one thirty in the afternoon.”
“I don’t give a flying fuck what time it is. This is cause for celebration.”
With a hand towel, he caught the cork and the frothy overflow. Then he poured two full glasses and joined me on the bed.
“A toast,” he said, narrowing his eyes in thought. “To idle days?”
“Huh, I guess so, eh?” I tapped my glass against the edge of his and took a sip.
“No, wait. I’d like to revise that. To the service of your idle days.”
“You, of course, being the one to provide this service?”
“Mm hmm. You’d better believe it, my queen.” He kissed me, teasing my tongue with his. As he pulled away, he looked at me meditatively. “Have another sip…”
I did as he’d requested, and he kissed me again, smiling against my lips.
“What?”
“Champagne. You taste like our first kiss. That was the best first kiss ever.”
“If you do say so yourself?”
“I was talking about you.”
He smiled and put our glasses on the night stand, and then he pulled me into his arms and reclined on the pillow, angling himself so he could see my face.
“So, tell me how hell came to freeze over. I’m thrilled that you quit, but I must admit, I’m a little surprised.”
“I don’t even know. One minute we were talking about watering plants, and the next thing I knew, I was quitting. I have no clue what came over me.”
“A blinding flash of good sense?”
“Hey, zip it, bucko.”
“I’d rather unzip it.” He pressed himself against my thigh.
“I thought we were discussing my epic morning.”
“You’re right. I got distracted by the zebra stripes,” he said, inching aside my robe and peeking at my black-and-white striped bra. “Please, carry on. What were you saying? It was an impulse?”
“I guess my decision can be summed up in five words: Elaine Armstrong is a fucking bitch.”
“That’s six words, sweetheart.”
“I know. The adjective was an essential last minute addition.”
“So. are you relieved?”
“Yes and no. I’m glad my days there are numbered, but I’m kind of scared.”
“Of what?”
“Of not having money. Of owing you…”
He pushed himself up on his elbow and frowned.
“Aubrey, you’ll never owe me anything. I wish you wouldn’t say things like that.”
I shook my head. “I don’t know what’s going to happen now. My summer residence is paid for, but I need spending money for England, and I still have expenses…”
“Like what?”
“Like my cell phone and toiletries and contributing to the cable bill and the groceries at Jackman…”
“I can think of one way to eliminate two of those expenses like that.” He snapped his fingers.
I was so not ready to go down that road. “Daniel…”
He rolled over and stood up, holding his hand out and then leading me to the armchairs beside the bed.
“In case this gets heated,” he said. “No arguing in bed, remember?”
I sat and tucked my feet under me. “I don’t want to argue about this.”
He reached for my hand. “You probably don’t even want to talk about this.”
“Not really, no.”
“Is it so horrible imagining moving in here?”
“It’s not horrible at all.” I huffed with exasperation.
“Can you at least consider it, then?”
I stared at our joined hands, Sarah’s words rattling around in my head. You’re lucky you have this place to escape to when you need a break. Daniel sat, observing my quiet contemplation, but when I didn’t say anything, he finally spoke up.
“Is it your parents? Would they be upset because we’ve only known each other a few months?”
I avoided his eyes, trying to think of a suitable answer.
“What? Is that it? Would your dad give you a hard time?”
I shook my head. “No, I don’t think so. Although…The thing is…I haven’t exactly told them about you. Or us.”
“Are you kidding?”
I shook my head.
He slumped into his chair as if I’d just punched him in the stomach. “Wow. I didn’t see that coming.”
“I’m sorry, but unless there’s a special occasion or something, we mostly email each other, and the way I feel about you isn’t something I’d want to gloss over in an email. Plus, I wanted to wait until things were on surer footing before telling them. Now the semester’s over and things are calmer, I’ll tell them.”
I stood and tugged on his hand, and he allowed me to guide him to the bed.
“You promise?” he asked, lying down beside me.
“I promise.”
“You’ll call your mom for Mother’s Day, right? You can tell her then?”
“Sounds like a plan.”
“Good,” he said, kissing me.
“Good.”
I’d managed to derail the moving-in discussion, and I wasn’t looking to re-open it. Further evasive maneuvers were essential. I popped his jeans button and lowered his zipper, sliding my hand inside his boxers.
“Gosh, I’m feeling awfully idle. I think I need some service,” I whispered.
I smiled as he moaned and moved against my hand. He let me stroke him for a few minutes before taking my hand in his and rolling me onto my back.
“If you need service, shouldn’t I be the one doing the work?”
He lowered his lips to my cleavage and nudged my robe out of the way with his nose.
“I suppose you’re right.” I stretched out beside him as his hand slid between us, slowly inching downward and under the frilly pink elastic on my zebra-striped panties.
And, Lord, the services he provided—first with his fingers and then with his tongue, and then with his fingers and tongue at the same time. Not until I was begging him to stop, my legs shaking with exhaustion, did he finally make love to me, taking his time, holding me close, and telling me how much he loved me.
Generally speaking, the events of the afternoon allowed me to conclude that idle days were extraordinarily underrated.
“So, how was your meeting? We’ve been talking about me all afternoon. How’d things go with Professor Brown?”
Daniel and I were standing side by side at the kitchen counter, making Moroccan chicken. I was in my element. Daniel’s kitchen accoutrements were amazing.
“It was good,” he said, lining up a collection of spices on the counter. “He wants me to be assigned to his Intro to Shakespeare class in the fall. He thinks I need to see the other end of the spectrum—to check out what freshmen are capable of.”
“How do you feel about that?”
“I learned a lot in the three months I worked with Martin. A full-year course would be great. I have to get the okay from Aaron O’Connor, but I don’t see that being a problem.”
“I don’t know how you can think of being in the same room with that man. He’s so creepy.”
“He’s a weasel. I didn’t like the way he was looking at me at my dad’s party. He was talking to Elaine at one point, and they both looked at me with disgust. I suppose my false reputation precedes me. Unfortunately for O’Connor, he has no choice but to associate with me, at least occasionally.”
“Unfortunate for you, I’d say. He seemed keen on getting some dirt on you.”
“True. I assume he came up empty, but he did tell me he wants to discuss those class evaluations. I should set something up soon and get it over with.”
I watched Daniel chop the dried apricots.
“I didn’t know he and Elaine knew each other.”
“Apparently.” Daniel grimaced.
I wasn’t a fan of either of them individually, and the thought of them together was particularly distasteful.
“Hey, did you and Professor Brown discuss grades, by any chance?” I asked.
He glanced at me and smiled. “Yes.”
“Any idea when final marks are being sent out?”
“End of May, I think.”
“You think?”
He paused for a moment and then resumed chopping. “I’m ninety-four-percent sure that’s when they’ll be sent out, yes.”
“Ninety-four percent?”
“I can’t be one-hundred-percent sure. Nobody’s perfect, after all.” He winked.
“True.” I stole a piece of apricot and nibbled on it. “I can’t believe I got ninety-four percent,” I whispered.
He grinned at the cutting board. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Miss Price.”
“Right, of course not. Should we change the subject?”
“Yes, please.”
I stirred the apricots into the pan. “Let me see…How about this? Who do you like better, Dr. Seuss or Shel Silverstein?”
He blinked at me. “Have I mentioned how much I love it out here in left field?”
“You know there’s always a rational explanation for the things I say, sunshine.”
“Right. How moronic of me. Um, I can’t say I was attached to either of them.”
“You came out of the womb clutching Shakespeare’s Complete Works, I suppose?”
“That’s not what I mean. My mom read us books she’d read when she was a girl—Beatrix Potter, Alfred Bestall, Enid Blyton. I loved Paddington Bear. He was my favorite.”
“Interesting.” I tapped my chin thoughtfully. “Paddington Bear was notoriously messy. I think I might be onto something.”
“Very funny, Dr. Freud,” he said. “Now back up. Why the sudden interest in my childhood reading habits?”
“I was thinking about the poem you wrote me and wondering who your influences were. You know, what inspired you as a writer.”
He laughed. “I believe my influence was a couple of glasses of Guinness, and my inspiration was a dreadful case of missing you. I waited so long to be able to spend time with you, it makes me crazy when you’re not here. The poem was a disastrous side effect. Maybe all the sex we’re having is turning my brain to mush. I wish I could channel this energy into my thesis.”
“I happen to love the poem, but if you’re really worried about your brain, we can dial it down. All you have to do is say the word.”
“Whoa, that’s crazy talk. I’m quite enjoying having mush for brains.” He stole a kiss. “I’m glad you liked the poem.”
“Loved, Daniel. I loved it. What was it anyway? A sonnet?”
“Hmm. It can’t have been a sonnet. It was fourteen lines, but the rhyme scheme and meter were all wrong.”
“Oh, horribly wrong.” I smiled and added lemon juice to the pan.
“I’m going to say it was an ode.” He nodded confidently. “Yes, it was definitely an ode.”
“An ode to multiple orgasms?”
“Yes…and to splooge.”
“Perfect. An Ode t
o Splooge,” I said.
He stood behind me, resting his chin on my head and sliding his hands around my waist. I set the pan to simmer and popped the lid on top. Then I spun around in his arms. “Okay, that’s good to go for half an hour or so.”
“Why don’t we sit on the balcony?” He grabbed the bottle of wine and two glasses and waited for me to get settled on the loveseat before joining me.
“I was going to ask Brad to borrow his truck on Monday to go get the boat. I assumed you’d be working, but now I’m not sure,” he said. “What’s the plan?”
I groaned at the thought of returning to the office. “Elaine’s going to need at least a week to post the job and do interviews.”
“So, you’ll be at work anyway. Brad and I can swap vehicles on Sunday after Mother’s Day tea. I’ll go to the cottage first thing Monday morning.” He sipped his wine. “On Sunday, I might ask my mom if she can pull some strings—get you a meeting with the editor of The Globe and Mail. He’s a friend of hers.”
“Why would I want to meet him?”
“Maybe you could try some freelance work. I’m sure he’d be happy to take a look at your writing.”
“I don’t have any training. What if I suck?”
“You’re a fantastic writer.”
“Of essays, Daniel. That doesn’t make me a journalist.”
“Good writing is good writing. I thought you’d leap at the chance.”
“As much as I need the money, I was hoping I wouldn’t have to worry about job hunting until after my trip.”
“You don’t have to worry about it. Don’t even give it another thought until August.”
I shook my head and sighed. “You make it sound so easy.”
“You think I don’t understand,” he said, tracing circles on the top of my hand.
I shrugged, but that’s exactly what I was thinking. How could he possibly understand how much I hated feeling dependent?
He turned my face. “‘With playful carelessness you avoid my gifts. I know your art, You never will take what you would.’”
Jesus.
“Was that Shakespeare?”
“Nope. Verse thirty-five of Tagore’s The Gardener. I thought of you as soon as I read it.”
“I knew I shouldn’t have given you that damn book.”
The Truest of Words Page 5