by Jamie Beck
“It’s fine. Of course, if you don’t cooperate, then I’ll ship you off to Elena’s!” I laugh but am inwardly ashamed for picking on her. She’s a lonesome woman, like me, trying to improve her life.
“She’s persistent, that’s for sure.” He shakes his head wearily. “Not sure how to deal with her.”
“Well, if you can’t be honest, then tell her you have a girlfriend. That should stop her from hoping.”
“She’s never seen me with anyone more than once, not ever.” He stares out the window, considering my idea. “I reckon she’d know it’s a lie.”
“Tell her it’s me.” As the words pass over my lips, my body temperature spikes. What the hell am I thinking? In a second moment of stupidity, I plunge further, hoping to make light of it all. “She’ll believe it; she suspects it anyhow. I’ll play along. But make sure she knows she’s welcome to visit and be your friend.”
A seductive smile plays on his lips. “How far are you willing to play along?”
His grin and flirtatious invitation make me tingly all over. Having him live here might be more than I can take. Is he teasing or testing the waters? Which do I want to be true? I can’t decide, but one good turn deserves another. I’ll not be the only one dancing on a hot tin roof.
“Well, I guess you’ll have to wait and see,” I pose coyly, then head for the hills. “You rest now. I’ll run out to pick up some things from the store. Be back in an hour.” I snatch the keys from the counter and bolt from the room before he notices the color in my cheeks.
I return to find Elena helping Levi into my living room from the deck. Apparently he’s unwilling to follow simple instructions and lie still. She’s holding one of his arms while he shuffles across the floor. I drop the bags on the counter and rush to his other side.
I snake my arm around his waist, careful not to bump his PICC line or touch his stitches. He rests his arm on my shoulder and bends his head down to bestow a gentle, warm kiss on my mouth. His lips linger long enough to make it seem real. A surge of heat rushes through my entire body. Oh, God, I’m in trouble. Although I suggested this ploy, my fingers involuntarily touch my lips in surprise. Our eyes lock in a mystified daze until Levi breaks it by winking.
“Glad you’re home, sweetheart.” This is the second time he’s used that term with me this month, and once again, it disorients me.
Elena’s eyes pop open and slide back and forth between us. I fumble to help him into bed and avoid her gaze. My insides have turned to jelly. Willing myself to regain control, I plant my fists on my hips and nag Levi.
“Are you really glad I’m home? Even though I’m about to lecture you about pushing too hard, too fast?” I roll my eyes and glance at Elena, hoping to be convincing. “Thanks for helping him, Elena. Can I get either of you something to drink?”
I hurry to the kitchen to unpack the bags. Gosh, I always speak staccato when I’m out of sorts. His tender kiss left me wanting more. Shoot. I take two deep breaths and finish putting the groceries away. From the kitchen, I hear Elena speak.
“Well, I didn’t realize you two had become so close.”
I strain to listen to their conversation without getting caught eavesdropping.
“It kinda snuck up on us.” He pauses. I can’t see what he’s doing, but then I hear him again. “We’d actually met in Florida years ago. When she moved in next door, we reconnected.”
Alluding to our former acquaintance was a persuasive maneuver. Thinking back on that day so long ago, I can hardly believe where we are today.
“How amazing.” Elena’s voice sounds as uncomfortable as I feel. “Guess you can’t interfere with fate, can you?”
When I reenter the room, Levi motions for me to sit beside him, so I comply. He wraps one arm around my waist and holds my hand in his own, his thumb mindlessly tracing circles in my palm again. I act nonchalant, but his caress is melting my spine. In my head I’m chanting, This is fake, this is fake, although I’d easily stay snuggled up with him for a while. The desire unsettles me, even as I fight against my body’s response to his touch.
Elena lasts fifteen more minutes before “remembering” errands she needs to run, then politely excuses herself.
“Lindsey, you’re a genius. That worked like a charm. She didn’t touch me once after I kissed you.” He’s holding my hand and smiling like a kid at Christmas. “She’s never kept her hands to herself before.”
Who’d imagine he’d struggle to address something so simple with a woman? He’s practically adolescent when it comes to genuine interpersonal skills, which makes sense considering he’s had little to no experience with real relationships.
The intimacy of sitting on this bed with him arouses me, heating my body from head to toe. I withdraw my hand and climb off of his bed before I straddle his lap and attack him. Another quick trip to the kitchen’s my only means of escape. I’ve never been so ruled by my hormones before. I don’t like it. . . . Well, maybe I like it a little.
I need to take my mind off sex. Food’s always been a good substitute. I pop back into the living room to ask if Levi wants something to eat.
“Sure. I’ll take whatever’s easiest.” He smiles as if nothing unusual transpired. How dare he be so unaffected by our counterfeit affection. It’ll be a long couple of weeks for me if I have to play that role very often.
“I have more squash soup. How about that?”
“Thanks.” He opens a book and begins reading.
While I’m reheating the soup, Jill calls. I realize I haven’t mentioned moving Levi into my house to her, either. After our last discussion, I’ve avoided further interrogation about my relationship with him.
“Hey, Jill.” I force a casual tone. “What’s up?”
“Just checking in. Are you still a wreck?”
“Oh, no. I’m better. Levi survived the infection and second surgery. He’s home now.” Home.
“So you’re back to being a private nurse?” Jill’s snide tone catches me off guard. “I thought you had bigger goals in mind when you took off for Malibu.”
Did she really just judge me?
“Actually, I do. I’ve been looking into some nonprofit organizations and am considering becoming an advocate for abused and neglected kids. If I get through the training and enjoy the work, maybe I’ll start my own little foundation one day with some of my trust fund money.”
A beat of stunned silence passes before Jill speaks. “What brought this on? I never knew you had such a social conscience.” She’s upset with me, but I’m not sure why. In any case, I refuse to succumb to her taunts.
“I guess I should credit Levi, and you. He told me to stop whining, figure out what makes me happy, and then follow my heart. As you’ve always lamented, I’m happiest when I’m helping people who can’t help themselves. So, I combined those ideas and am a little excited about the possibility of a totally new direction. I think it could even inspire me to write a book about the experience or the plight of so many children.” I’m smiling to myself, but Jill’s lack of support saps some of my enthusiasm. “Nothing is set in stone, but the idea of making a real difference in someone’s life is very tempting. Novel, even.”
“So, will you be doing this in California or New York?” Ah, now I understand her displeasure. She’d never admit it, but she misses me.
“I signed a six-month lease here back in May, but I guess it depends.”
“Depends on what?”
“On lots of things. I kind of like being away from home. My mom can’t pry or judge as easily with so much distance between us. The privacy lets me make my own decisions. Eventually I won’t need the crutch, but for now it works.”
“What about Rob?”
I groan at the memory of my last conversation with him. “Rob and I spoke earlier this week. It didn’t go well. Now that I’m away from him, I’m spotting other problems with our relationship.”
“Really? Like what—your hot neighbor?”
Jill’s retort is a little
too close for comfort, but still, on the heels of her other sarcastic remarks, this one makes me pissed. Why should I have to defend my love life to her, or anyone?
“No, Jill. Maybe I don’t want to be a Goldman widow for the next ten or fifteen years. It could be lonely being married to someone you see only one or two hours on any given day. Also, despite what he says now, Rob wants me to be the supportive, doting wife. He’s always expected me to be available on his schedule. To make his priorities my priorities. I’m not sure that’s enough for me now—and if that’s true, Rob and I wouldn’t fit together in the long run.”
I pause to fix a tray with Levi’s lunch. “I don’t know; it’s hard to explain. I’m having second thoughts about everything. When I shared these concerns, he basically told me not to call him again unless I planned to come back. He also made it pretty clear he’s thinking of moving on. I hurt him. He hurt me. It’s not great.”
While on the phone, Jill overhears Levi thanking me for delivering his lunch.
“Who’s with you?” Her voice abruptly turns playful. “Is that Levi?”
“Yes, I’m fixing him lunch.”
“Guess you didn’t mention him to Rob, did you?” Her brash, sometimes intimidating manner prevents her from making a lot of female friends. I guess I’m able to tolerate it better than most because she reminds me of my mom. Both of them mean well, even when they’re obnoxiously overbearing.
“No. Why have him jump to mistaken conclusions?”
“ ‘Mistaken,’ huh? Yeah.” Jill lets her opinion hang suspended between us. The only thing keeping me from snapping back is two decades of her loyalty and friendship. Deep down—way deep down—I know she loves me.
“I want to see this guy who’s stealing you from us,” she demands. Before I can protest her ridiculous conclusion, she continues, “Take his picture and e-mail it to me right now.”
“No! How embarrassing. Besides, he’s eating lunch.”
My remark piques Levi’s interest, so he interrupts. “What’s embarrassing?”
Horrified, I roll my eyes. “My friend wants to see you, so she asked me to snap a photo and send it to her.”
His wicked smile suggests he’s amused by the idea. “Hand me the phone.”
He laughs at my stricken expression, but I comply.
“Hi, Jill. Before I send my picture, I need to know what I’m going to get in return.” Silence, but he’s smirking . . . like he’s having fun. “Okay, fair enough.” More silence is followed by a conspiratorial smile that spreads across Levi’s face. “Hope you’re not displeased, ma’am. Have a nice day.”
Levi hands the phone back to me so I can take the photo. I mouth the words “What did she say?” He only grins.
“Jill, I’ll call you back after I’ve taken the photo.” I hang up annoyed, but snap a shot, check it—God, he’s photogenic—and e-mail it to Jill before hitting redial. “Okay, Jill. Check your in-box.”
“Lindsey, if he looks half as amazing as he sounds, I know you’re never coming back to New York.” I practically hear Jill’s heart fluttering over the phone.
“I’m not so superficial.” I frown.
“You know what I mean. Wait, here’s your e-mail. Oh my God! You were not exaggerating.” She pauses, then, as if musing aloud, says, “Maybe I’ll visit before you do decide to hook up with him. I’ve always been available for a little no-strings fun, unlike you.”
“You’re welcome any time, friend.” I play along despite every muscle in my body tensing. “Talk later.”
The thought of Levi sleeping with Jill makes me physically ill. Of course, I’ve no right to stop them.
Levi holds his arm out, motioning for my phone with his hand. “Okay, show me Jill.”
I’m shocked by his interest in this very girly exchange. Rob would never find it fun. I sit on the edge of his bed and scroll through the photos, searching for a flattering picture of Jill. I find one taken on my dad’s boat. Her skin is bronzed, her blonde hair lightened by the summer sun, her deep-blue eyes dazzling, and her long, lithe body proudly displayed in a tiny bikini.
“That’s her. All the boys love Jill. She was homecoming queen at our school. She’s really pretty. Maybe you’ll meet her someday, if she visits. She works for a hedge fund. You guys would probably have a lot to talk about, actually.” Heaviness sits in my chest at the image of Levi and Jill cozied up, trading sexual innuendos while discussing investment strategies.
“She’s okay. Not as pretty as you. Blondes all look the same. I’m sick of Barbie dolls.” He promptly returns his attention to lunch after making his matter-of-fact pronouncement.
I roll my eyes, disbelieving the compliment, and the fact that Levi isn’t attracted to Barbie dolls and Jill. Every man’s attracted to them—women, too. Levi smiles at me and continues eating his soup.
I study the photograph and am hit with a pang of nostalgia for the lazy days spent on Long Island Sound. My dad is at his best on his boat—friendly, energetic, and engaged. A consummate host, stocking the galley with beverages, crudités, and the best cold fillet and horseradish sandwich bites available.
The few times I’ve spoken to him this month, he’s been reserved. Unlike Mom, Dad doesn’t browbeat, but his gentle admonishment is apparent from passive-aggressive lines like, “I’m sure you aren’t simply spending time and money indulging your whims” or “You’re probably overwhelmed with contacting agents and editors in Los Angeles.”
“Where’d you go, Lindsey?” Levi’s voice breaks my trance.
“Nowhere. Just thinking about this photo, my dad’s boat . . . good times.”
“Thinking you’d rather be there than here?” He speaks with cool detachment, but it’s a loaded question.
Against every instinct, he’s trusting in our fledging friendship. I’m sure he’s wondering if I’m ready to ditch California to run home. Sadly, I don’t have an adequate answer.
“I miss home, my friends, and, well, other stuff. But I have freedom here I don’t enjoy there. I’m not willing to give it up yet.” I glance out the window toward the sea. “I’ll stay here for the rest of my lease term and complete the volunteer training. It’s a national organization, so I don’t need to make any decisions yet. One step at a time. Who knows where I’ll ultimately end up?”
I make light of my situation, hoping to avoid a serious conversation.
He nonchalantly raises his brows, but his eyes veer into more distant territory. I don’t want to hurt him, but I can’t base my decisions on how they affect him. If I do, I’ll end up in the same placating role I left behind in New York, with my parents and Rob.
As Levi says, we’re all adults and need to take responsibility for the consequences of our decisions. I’ve been honest. It’s all I can do.
CHAPTER TWELVE
July 29, 2013
Levi
I’ve lived with Lindsey for nearly five weeks now. Five of the most refreshing weeks of my life. Despite my back pain and inability to do much more than hang out and take short walks with her, it’s been enlightening. Maybe it sounds stupid, but I’m pretty certain I know just about everything one could know about her at this point.
She chatters a lot, whether to me, or on the phone with friends or parents, or with the people from the nonprofit group she’s getting all jazzed up about. Most of the time, she says something meaningful, but other times she’s simply speaking aloud, almost narrating her actions and thoughts. It’s frequent enough to make me wonder if she does it even when no one’s around. When I do return home, I’m curious whether the silence will be heavenly or deafening.
She also doesn’t spend much time on her clothes, makeup, or hair. Her clothes are pretty basic with hints of femininity—a ruffle here, a sequin there. I’ve seen her blow-dry her hair only once. She’s a “girly tomboy,” if there’s such a thing, and it’s one of my favorite things about her.
Her cooking has improved, though she still can’t handle a knife well. I suspect she might end up
enjoying the kitchen one day. The thought brightens me, since I introduced her to that particular pleasure.
At night, she insists on playing board games or watching reality-television competitions. She’s slick with word games, like Scrabble, and often chooses better words, but I’m a more strategic player. We’re both competitive, but my wins are sweeter because, unlike me, she pouts when she loses. She’d never admit it, but the fact that I can beat her Ivy League brain blows her mind.
Mostly, she’s a truly jubilant person. She wakes up with a start, takes off on her run, and returns ready to go. The only time she loses steam is after her mother’s calls. The damn woman destroys Lindsey’s confidence with comments I never hear.
I’m aware Lindsey’s not been honest about my living here. I’m not sure if she’s protecting herself or her relationship with Rob, but it bothers me either way. I’ve no right to be upset, but it’s the truth.
Unfortunately, I’ll probably just be here a few more days. I’m getting around better and can take the stairs more than once a day. Of course, I must look like an octogenarian—moving at a snail’s pace and bracing for a shock of pain that may or may not come—but I’m mobile. The grabber helps me get my shorts on, so I’ve ditched the robe.
I can shower now, too, which is great. It’s for the best, since her washing my hair stirs up longing I can’t afford to indulge.
As if on cue, I see Lindsey through the screen door, returning from her run. She stops to water her plants before coming inside. Bathed in sunlight, her skin shimmers. The tap of her foot indicates she’s listening to her pop hip-hop music, one of the few tastes in music we don’t share.
“Good morning.” She’s smiling and sweaty. “Did I wake you?”
“No.” I nod at my open laptop. “Been working.”
“Oh. Hungry?”
“Not really.”
“Okay. I’m going to shower. See you in a bit.” She marches right past the shoes she’s left by the sofa, and the empty water glass she left on the table, and bounds up the stairs and out of view. I swear, my physical restrictions are all that have kept me from organizing her things this month.