Wilde About Alec

by Cate Faircloth

  “So… where do you work?” I awkwardly ask as I fiddle with the key ring to get it off.

  “The power grid.”

  “What kind of work do you do?” I stall.

  “Engineering. Electrical.” Alec puts his hands in his pockets, his stance slightly wide. He seems to take up half the room with his imposing presence.

  I have no reason to stall anymore, so I take the key from the ring and hand it to him.

  “Thanks.” He turns it over with both hands and looks down at it kind of like he forgot something.

  “Um, do you know where I can copy this?” He looks right at me for the first time since he’s walked in. Maybe I almost fall over a bit.

  “I know a good place down the street.” I inhale a breath of courage. “I can take you there, so you don’t get lost. If you get lost, you’d be late for work, and you wouldn’t want that.” I smile.

  Alec gives me an odd look, but I seem to reach through some shell of his exterior. “Sure. Thanks.”

  “No problem.” I grab my purse and follow him out of the store. I tell Haley I’ll be back soon, and then we’re outside on the curbside parking.

  I am a little surprised when Alec opens the door to his black sedan that looks more like a rental for me. When I settle in the passenger seat and look around, it looks exactly like a rental. I put that together with the single bag he had and can only assume he’s been temporarily living somewhere for a while now.

  “Turn down this street and go for two blocks,” I tell him once he’s inside.

  I cross and uncross my legs nervously as he drives. I try and keep my breaths shallow because the way his scent floods the car is too distracting for me to inhale it deeply.

  “And turn here, it should be on the right.”

  We arrive at the small key shop Jake runs. I know the owner by name because I lose keys from work sometimes, and he copies them for me.

  “Should take about ten minutes.” The sweet old man leaves us at the counter and heads to the back.

  I glance up at Alec, and his eyes flee away like he had been staring at me.

  “So I guess you’re new in town,” I say.

  “Yeah.”

  I chew the inside of my lip, and I can hear the clock ticking in the silence. Things are awkward between us, but it only feels like that because we are both dodging the wrong words. I think. Maybe I have been watching too many soap operas.

  “So why did you move here?” I ask him.

  “Needed a change. Have you lived here a long time?”

  “Two years. Not really. It was far enough from my old college and my parents that it seemed like a good idea.” I giggle.

  “Something wrong with your old college? Or your parents?” he asks, and it doesn’t feel forced.

  “No. I just didn’t want to live in college town, New London, anymore. And my parents… suck.” I swallow a sour taste in my mouth at the thought of them. Especially Mom.

  “I know how you feel there,” he murmurs, almost to himself, but I hear him loud and clear.

  After a few minutes, and I know because I watch the clock in the silence, I clear my throat and strike something up again. “I was thinking we could work out some more things, you know, about living together. I don’t think letters are a reliable form of communication.” I laugh once, nerves cutting it short.

  I find his piercing gray eyes again and try to get a hint behind them, but it’s no use.

  “Sure. I’m working late tonight on a project, though.”

  “Okay. Well… whenever is fine, I guess. But you don’t have to be in your room all the time, the living room is pretty nice, too.”

  Alec gives me a sliver of a smile. “You won’t be saying that when I’m watching the game with empty beer bottles everywhere.”

  I laugh sarcastically. “That will never happen. One of my rules is you have to clean up after yourself.”

  Alec grins softly, and I accept it as progress. On the way back to the flower shop, though, it’s like nothing has changed. I take my key back and go back to work, half focused, half… thinking about whatever. It stops being about just living with Alec and turns into trying to figure him out.

  But something tells me that will come at an expense.

  5

  Alec

  It takes a week for me to stop hiding in my room. For a few days, I just told myself I was staying late at work and wanting to eat dinner in bed, but I know what I was doing. I’ve been avoiding Holden, but I do answer when he calls as promised, and it’s only been three times since then.

  I try not to notice Mom hasn’t called, but… she hasn’t called. Not in the entire five months I’ve been gone. I understand I disappeared without a note. But I didn’t change my number. Eight of my nine brothers, in turn, have reached out to me, except Isaac, but I haven’t seen him since I was thirteen, so that isn’t a surprise. I told Holden just to relay what I told him, and the calls have died down. They either respect my wishes and trust me or don’t really care. The bitter, adjusted part of me wants to believe the latter.

  So I grow lonely enough to venture into the kitchen on Thursday evening when I hear noises and smell herbs. I had decided to wear clothes around the house since I don’t live alone anymore, so in my jockey sweats and a graphic tee, I round the pillar between the kitchen and living room to find Mia in one of her button-up dresses, this one plain green and snug enough to…

  “Don’t be a creep, Alec.” Mia finishes leaning over the window pane digging in a small flower pot.

  “Um. Sorry. I didn’t want to scare you.” I pad around the island and head for the fridge grabbing a cold Shiner.

  “So creeping me out was a better choice?”

  I turn to meet her gaze. The sun is coming down, shining a deep ray of light behind her as she stands in front of the window. I notice the chopping board out and something going in the frying pan.

  “I’ve learned my lesson… do you grow everything?” I ask.

  Mia smiles down as she chops the herbs, rosemary or something.

  “I try to.”

  We don’t say anything for a bit as I lean on the counter and take down my beer.

  “I’m making spaghetti if you want some.”

  I shift as I hold back a smile, hearing her little accent on the word. “Spaghetti?”

  Mia notices what I’m getting at, and sighs like she has been through this before. “Yes, spaghetti. My dad is Italian.”

  “Do you speak Italian?” I get a few more paces closer to her.

  “Yes. But I’m not going to.”

  “I’ll have some, thank you.”

  Her smile is soft as she glances at me and then continues her cooking. I leave her be and sit on the stool at the kitchen island. My eyes scan the room noticing things I haven’t seen before. The plants by the window seem to be herbs, and she has movie posters, quote pin-ups and kitchen decorations hanging on the bare walls of the kitchen—like artsy salt shakers in spice rack mounts and watercolor chef hats paintings. Everything is neat and organized. The plants in the living room are organized by size and color. The décor alone says enough about Mia, and knowing the little I do about her, I have to agree.

  “You never replied to my note on your letter.” I break the silence.

  Mia turns on her heel with a red spackled spoon in her hand. “Yeah. Because this isn’t the fourth grade.”

  I make a face at her.

  “What, you never passed notes when you were in school?” She turns and continues stirring.

  “No. I was homeschooled.”

  “Oh. Never mind then. I did see your note, and that’s why I suggested we try to talk to each other. But that was a week ago.”

  I don’t take any offense to it since she is right.

  “Yeah. I’ve been busy with work,” I lie. I could have been, but I wasn’t.

  “That’s understandable.” She keeps her back turned to me as she works at the stove.

  I try not to stare at her, but it’s nex
t to impossible. Her dark brown hair is in permanent curls, almost like spirals, hanging down her back to her waist. Every movement she makes is slight and demure, and I notice the small silver chain on her wrist that hasn’t moved since I’ve met her. My intent is to keep things at the surface, not to think of her as any more than a pretty girl.

  “Are you a florist?” I ask her.

  Mia turns from the stove, sets a lid over a big pot, and faces me behind the center counter.

  “No. Technically. Maybe.” She sighs as she hears how confusing that sounds. “I have a degree in botany and plant science. But I couldn’t find a job after I graduated, so I’ve been working at the shop for almost two years now until I do find one. It’s the closest job I could find relating to my degree.”

  “Oh. I can see how that would be frustrating.” I turn the empty beer bottle in my hands as I think of something else to say. The conversation doesn’t feel forced, I just have to make myself do it. I haven’t ‘made conversation’ in months.

  I don’t know how long it will last, or when my irrational thinking will show up again, but I’m not asking it to. So, I sit through dinner with Mia, asking some questions that I won’t evade myself if she turns them back on me. She is a witty little thing, and I feel myself smiling without trying to hold it in. I thank her for dinner and offer to clean up which prompts a tour of where everything is in the cabinets.

  “You don’t have to buy all this stuff for yourself, I don’t mind sharing,” Mia says, after showing me the clear glass plates and cups. She separated them by color and size. There are clear ones, ceramic, blue, green, and silver ones.

  “Thanks.”

  “Why did you have just one bag when you moved in?” Mia seems to blurt without thinking as she flusters and shuts the cabinet door.

  The question does pose an issue for me but only because I don’t know how to answer it, even with a good lie.

  “I don’t have a lot of stuff.”

  She dances her lavender-painted nails across the faux marble counter. “Did you get kicked out of your house by your wife or something and could only grab one bag?” She bites her bottom lip and leans against the counter.

  “No. I’m not married, never have been.” I look down into her eyes.

  It unnerves me because I feel like she is searching for something I’ll never give her.

  “Oh. Well, I want to make sure you aren’t crazy. I know background checks are run on potential leasees, but people could still lie. Plus, you’re an engineer, so you could probably hack stuff.”

  I chuckle once. “You go off on the weirdest tangents. And I don’t know code, just the machines that run them.” I aimlessly wipe my hands together and shift on my feet.

  “You have to at least give me something, you’re a very curious character.”

  I shake my head once as I realize she won’t give up. Once I notice that, it isn’t what makes the back of my neck itch, it’s that I could very well stand here and tell her everything like it’s nothing. Like I haven’t kept all this in for so long that I can feel it bubbling to the surface of my skin. Her chestnut brown eyes are like deep pools of wonder and curiosity she doesn’t care to ignore. But I’m not the one to satiate it.

  “It’s a long story. And I have an early day tomorrow.” I lean away from the counter and stop at the threshold of the kitchen to turn back at her.

  She stands against the counter with her slender arms crossed and her mouth pursed. I see the disappointment rolling off her, and I hate that I even put it there. It’s already getting to be too much for me.

  “Thanks for dinner.” I turn away and head for my bedroom.

  A hot shower calms my nerves and gets my head to stop swarming. Sitting through that dinner with Mia was the easiest thing I’ve done in months. Even when I wasn’t estranged from my family, I can’t remember a time when things felt that simple.

  I cinch my towel tight around my waist after my morning shower and sit on the edge of my bed checking my phone like I have any messages. Once I get dry, I sit back on the edge of my bed thinking for the first time since I started this whole thing, it may not be worth it. All the right voices in my head keep telling me to call my mom, call my brothers, get the truth out, and then sign the will and be done with it. But the part of me that feels betrayed and lied to keeps winning, and so I begin another day of grumpiness and my signature standoffish behavior.

  Work is boring, annoying during a department meeting, and a nuisance up until five when I leave. I still don’t know Mia’s schedule yet, so I’m surprised to see her car in its spot when I get back. I don’t see her inside, though, and I know the weird feeling festering inside me as I climb the steps is me missing her. It’s ridiculous. I only live with her and got used to having her around… even that thought doesn’t last long.

  Once I find the community gym, I trudge away my frustration on the treadmill and force the rest out with weight training. Everything is getting pent up inside of me, and I know I have to do something about it—just not tonight.

  Beer and leftover spaghetti fill me up once I get back, and I don’t see Mia, but I can hear her in her bedroom. I’ve noticed the sitcom she has on almost every night around this hour over the past week. I once again want to say something to her, anything to make her think I’m less of a case than I am, but I don’t.

  All this going on isn’t something I can drag her into, and tension between roommates is a sure way to end up moving out early and living in a hotel. There already is tension, but I can ignore it as long as I keep her at a distance and stop trying to get to know her.

  Her unique charm doesn’t make that any easier. Neither does her pretty little dresses and prying questions. So, for some reason, I settle into bed letting myself imagine what it would be like if I met her under other circumstances, and I wasn’t so disconnected from myself that I forgot how to be a decent person.

  Or, if I simply just met her when I wasn’t running from myself.

  6

  Mia

  I think of every Monday as a fresh start, but I somehow still end up getting croissants for breakfast and not egg whites or oatmeal like I say I’ll get. And a frappe, not a black coffee. I don’t mind because I end up burning it off with all the walking and lifting I do at work.

  Or the thinking I do… recently about Alec and his frustrating, mysterious in a sexy way, behavior. After his week of disappearing, I thought we had a breakthrough over dinner last week Thursday, but it’s been just about ten days now, and we’re right back where we started, if not more.

  I can literally hear him sneaking around the house, so he doesn’t alert me of him being there or avoiding me entirely. I can’t say it doesn’t make me feel a little high school rejected, but I really felt a connection, at least for a second. Maybe three.

  I almost overwater some petunias and declare myself unfit to deal with the plants. I’ve worked too hard on them to let my distractions kill them off.

  Haley comes in around lunchtime at her normal shift hour. The place is a little busy, and she jumps right into work, and I don’t talk to her until later on when the shop is empty.

  “Did you have a good weekend with your roommate?” She wiggles her newly-tweezed brows, and I frown at her.

  We hide behind the checkout counter, and I avoid her question by playing with a loose stitch on my sweater. I feel weird in jeans, so I don’t wear them often, but I have to do laundry, so I had no choice. Haley, on the other hand, always looks like she dressed extremely casually on purpose. Today, it’s jeans and a nicer graphic tee with no holes.

  “No, I haven’t seen him in over a week.”

  She scoffs. “Ugh. How can you live with someone and not see them for that long?”

  “It’s easier than you think.” I fiddle with an empty receipt roll in my hands.

  “Right. But you made dinner for him that night.”

  “It wasn’t for him. I just happened—”

  “Shut up, you only make spaghetti when you want
to try to make someone like you. It worked on me.” She shrugs with her soft, fake, innocent smile, and I laugh after a bit.

  “Okay. So maybe I was reaching. But it did work for that night. Then nothing.”

  Haley ponders for a moment. I can almost hear her brain clicking. She thinks about everything like it’s an equation. She doesn’t tell me much about it, but she was almost a mathematical prodigy in college, and like me, got stuck in the degree with no job pool.

  “I don’t think you’re missing out right now. The man is a little weird. I mean, one suitcase and nothing else? He could be an ex-con with a fake identity.”

  “They would have never approved his application if that were the case.”

  “Okay. True. But it still is a little weird.”

  “Yeah, well you saw him. You forget all about what’s weird and what isn’t. But he’s a good roommate so far. I haven’t taken the trash out since he’s moved in.”

  “Hmm. He has some brownie points… Oh, please tell me you haven’t made him brownies yet.” She widens her eyes at me.

  I giggle and turn away. “No, that’s only for desperate measures.”

  I get home and relax on the couch with my pasta and chicken. I definitely eat way too much of it. It’s just after five when my phone rings and ruins the mood of my day.

  “Hi, Mom.” I give my best I’m-happy-you’re-calling voice, one I’ve started perfecting since I was seventeen and realized I resented my mother.

  I love her, but I can’t stand her.

  “Hello, Amalia.”

  I cringe at my full name. Her voice is like Breakfast at Tiffany’s but with too much mimosa and rehearsing. Her efforts to fit into Hunterdon society has been nail-biting and makes me want to pull my hair out.

  “I am calling to check on you. I have not heard from you in weeks. What will I tell everyone?”

  To mind their own business.

  “Um, I don’t know, Mom.” I set my plate down and start rubbing my temples to avoid the headache I know will come once we hang up.