by Sally Thorne
Imagine being able to say yes. “No, of course I’m not.”
“Oh good. He’ll randomly disappear forever and forget your name. At least, that was my experience.”
On her inner forearm is a bluebird tattoo that I recognize as Teddy’s work. What is this stab through the meatiest part of my rib cage? What’s the point of jealousy right now? There are girls walking around everywhere with his art on their body. But I’m not one of them.
“He’s fun to be with, but when he’s gone, he’s really gone. And it’s not worth it to have to miss him. Nice to meet you. Goodbye, Teddy.” She leaves, and when she reaches the top of the stairs, her husband dashes up to hold her arm as she slowly clomps down.
The action is so doting and sweet my throat squeezes with emotion.
Imagine having someone who was so afraid that I’d fall. I’d really, really love to have something like that. Teddy’s going to try to put on a casual front, but he’s clearly affected. He won’t lift his eyes. His pencil is scratching in one spot on the pad, nearly tearing the page.
“Are you okay?”
“It went better than it usually does,” Teddy says with a cheer he doesn’t feel. “She didn’t pour a drink over my head or slap me.”
“Was what she just said unfair?” I watch him consider it. Then he shakes his head. “How many girls have you done that to?” I mean disappoint and hurt and leave. He understands exactly. Before he even opens his mouth, I know what the answer will be, because his eyes confess.
“All of them. It’s like my mom says. Nothing lasts forever.”
“Tell me about her. Your mom.”
“She’s very pretty, with nicer hair than me. Impossible, right?” He tries to joke but I don’t smile. “Her name’s Ruby. Ruby . . .” He pauses to think. “Hardiman. Grant. No, she’s Ruby Murphy now. Weird to not know your own mom’s name.”
“How many times has she been married?”
“Sometimes, I barely have enough time to pick up my suit from the dry cleaner for the next wedding. Six times. And as you’ve just found out tonight, I am a lot like her.”
His eyes search mine. “You know I’m going to leave, right? And you’re not going to try to stop me?”
“Of course not. Because you’re going to be the manager of your own studio. And one day, I’m going to drive all the way up to visit you to get my tattoo. Everyone’s got one except me. Brianna had a bluebird by you.”
He seems surprised. “How do you know it was mine?”
“I know talent when I see it.” I smile when he does. “I’d know you anywhere, Theodore Prescott.”
“If the studio doesn’t work out for me, I don’t know what I’m going to do,” he confesses in a hush. “I’m thousands away from what I need. Alistair is talking about checking out shopfronts, and I can tell he thinks I’m not going to come through.”
My phone interrupts and the caller ID makes us look at each other in panic. “It’s the Parlonis. Hello? What’s happened?”
It’s Renata. She bawls over a loud din, “Ruthie, what is this godawful noise?” In the background, I hear a faint siren. “We’re all deaf and half dead, but this is still managing to keep us all awake. Half of them are out on the pavement wondering if it’s the fire brigade.”
The sound sinks into me. “The office alarm’s going off.”
Renata says, “Well, go fix it. I don’t know how you can’t hear it. I cannot get ahold of Theodore. I have no one here to fix this noise. It’s not much to ask, is it? Peace and quiet? Do you know how much we pay to live here?” She lets out a screech of frustration.
“I’m sorry. I’ll be five minutes. Please don’t tell Sylvia. I know I locked the door. I know I did.”
“It’s just tripped. There’s nothing to steal in the office.” Teddy thinks he is helping but those words are congealing the food in my stomach. I’m sweating. I’m feeling like an animal, nothing but base reactions. He tries to catch my hand and I shy backward. “We’ll go together,” he says, but he’s too slow. He’s a person who’s never in a rush. He’s no use to me. “Ruthie, wait for me.”
I’m already running down the stairs, my hand skimming the handrail. If I fall, I’ll catch myself. I don’t think of him as I run to my car. I actually don’t have any thoughts at all.
I drive home like I’ve got Brianna in labor on my back seat. I run up the path toward my squalling baby office. I trip on a paver when I try to dodge a tortoise. For a moment I see myself from above and this windmill-limbed frantic sprint is sad to witness. This moment now begins to intercut with my memories of being sixteen and careless, distracted by a boy.
The alarm’s going off, but I can’t hear anything except my heartbeat.
My hand is jarring on the doorknob and it’s not until I register pain in my wrist that I realize that the door is locked. I drop my keys twice, unlock the door, fall inside, disarm the alarm, and sit on Melanie’s desk. I proceed to have a wheezing, squeaking panic attack.
“What happened?” Teddy says from the open doorway. Turns out he can hurry when he wants to. “Was it locked?” He asks this like he really knows me. “Breathe, breathe.” He moves me into Mel’s chair and makes me put my head between my knees. My airways have turned into a one-way street.
I don’t know what he says to me next, but through the fuzzy blackness, he somehow coaches me to exhale once.
When I can, I reply, “Yes, it was locked. Nothing happened. The alarm was tripped.” I ease up. Why did he have to follow? The last guy who witnessed this meltdown was Adam. Every time he looked at me, he had the memory of it in his eyes. I know this is very unattractive.
When Teddy kneels down between my feet and opens his arms, I crumple down into him. The smell of his body through his T-shirt is familiar to me now. That’s how long he’s been lingering in my doorway, following me around, noticing and questioning everything I do. Part of his delicious scent has adhered to my couch cushion. My scarf smells like him, my pillow, my entire bathroom . . .
Wait a second. “Have you been using my shampoo? That’s theft. No wonder you’ve been extra lustrous lately.”
He pulls back and won’t be distracted. “Can you tell me what happened?” He doesn’t mean right now. He means the years-ago thing. “Most people don’t check every door the way you do.”
“How on earth did you steal shampoo without me noticing?” I’m pushing away until the wheels of the chair begin to roll. “I wish I’d spoken to Brianna a little more, to find out if you’ve always been like this. If you want something from me, just ask.”
“What I want to know is this story that’s been eating you up.” His hands pull the chair back. “An alarm going off and ruining your night out is annoying, but it isn’t the end of the world. But it felt like it was to you. You can tell me.”
I blow out a breath. It’s been years since I’ve spoken out loud about this. “When I was sixteen I learned the importance of security. That’s all.”
He shakes his head. “That’s all? I don’t think so.”
I’ve never had anyone ask me about this, so I don’t know where to start. The beginning, I suppose?
“When I was sixteen, our church had a huge fund-raising event to raise money for . . . something. A hurricane, or an earthquake. The event was a really big deal. The local radio station was broadcasting from it. There were games, a pageant, a pie-eating contest, the works. It was really wholesome. It was like an episode of Heaven Sent.”
“I can picture it. Just FYI, I imagine your dad as Pastor Pierce.”
I smile reluctantly. “I wish. Anyway, my boyfriend, Adam, came along. I thought I was in love. He went to a different school, so spending the day together was a treat. Chaperoned by his parents and mine, of course.” When I think back to that day, all I can remember is the color of Adam’s polo top and the stench of bloody smoke coming off the grilling steaks. “Our parents approved of the relationship. Everything was perfect.”
Teddy’s starting to grimace. “I ha
te the part of the story where something goes wrong for you. But it’s coming.” He shuffles closer on his knees. “This is the part that hurts, isn’t it?”
I take a deep breath. “There was a charity auction that boosted the total. At the end of the day, we counted ten thousand dollars. It was a huge amount, more than we’d ever imagined, and it was cash. People had been really generous. Ten thousand dollars. My dad told me to go and put it in his office.”
“Oh.” Teddy’s got a doomed note in his voice. “Oh shit.”
Talking about this only feels possible because Teddy is such a good listener. It’s what I’ve always liked best about him. His expression is always changing as I speak. His face softens with sympathy or pinches with concern, his eyes flaring with surprise or loyal outrage hardening his brow. The way he listens to me makes it feel possible to talk about the moment where I lost my confidence and my faith.
“I took the money up to his office. I was talking to Adam as I put it in the bottom drawer of Dad’s desk. The money got stolen early that evening, probably when we were all eating leftovers from the barbecue.”
Teddy’s looking grim. “What did the police say?”
“My parents didn’t call them. It was too humiliating for them to admit it to everyone that the huge fund raiser had been for nothing because their daughter didn’t lock the door. There was no forced entry.”
“Ruthie,” Teddy says with such sympathy.
“My dad was so angry. He said I was too caught up in myself and a boy to do the one thing he’d asked me to. Ten thousand dollars. Gone.”
“The only person who’s at fault is the person who stole that money.”
“So the last bad thing to happen was that my parents used what little there was in my college fund to cover the amount that was stolen. They talked for a long time and considered covering it up completely. But it wasn’t enough of a lesson. Dad made me stand up in front of everyone on Sunday and explain my carelessness. And I was giving up my dream of becoming a vet to make it right.”
“That’s complete bullshit.” Teddy is lit with anger. He looks like a devil, kneeling at my feet.
I’m taken aback by how infuriated he is. “Why are you mad? I deserved it.”
“They should have stood up for you. If you said you locked the door, you did it.”
“But I didn’t. I just can’t remember. It’s the black spot in my memory. And I swore to myself that I’d never feel that way again. From that point on, I’ve used checklists and routine to manage myself. I was hoping you and Melanie hadn’t noticed.”
“And what about Adam? Did he stand up for you?” Teddy’s eyes narrow when I look away. “Your mom? Surely she believed you?” He falls silent. “You could have been a vet, but instead all your college money was spent on a hurricane. I can’t believe how much of yourself you’ve had to give over the years.”
“I wasn’t delusional; I didn’t think I’d actually be a vet one day, but maybe a vet nurse? Once the savings account went to zero, we all knew it wasn’t going to happen for me. What the actual worst part was, my dad could find forgiveness for anyone in that congregation, but not for me. He lost faith in me, and I lost my faith in God.”
Teddy leans back from me to see my face better.
“I think I have to go punch a hole in a fence or something. Ruthie, I’m going to tell you something, and you need to believe me, okay? Are you ready?” I nod. “What happened to you was shitty and I’m sorry. And I want you to know that it’s time to let it go.” He considers my face and decides to take a risk. “I’ve got a therapist I see sometimes. I could give you her details.”
I have a cleaned-out cathartic feeling in my chest. I wipe my eyes. “Is that why you’re such a good listener?”
“Am I?” He’s similarly flustered. “I didn’t think I was.”
“You are the best listener I’ve ever known.” I drag my fingertips through another section of his hair, admiring the glassy shine my shampoo has bestowed. “I’ve thought sometimes I should see someone about my mental health. What do you see a therapist for?”
“How to cope with having hair this good.” He gets to his feet and helps me up. “Reset the alarm. I’ll lock the door.” We do that, and it’s only when we’re walking up the hill that I realize that we’re holding hands, and he completely sidestepped my serious question with a silly reply.
“Can we talk about what you go to a therapist for?”
Teddy sidesteps a tortoise this time. “I want you to know that I’ll always take your side. Even when I’m in Fairchild, you just call me, okay?” He’s making his voice cheerful and it’s making me feel worse. He’s just taken me apart completely and learned the worst moment of my life. And he won’t give me anything back. But I can’t make him.
“I wish you trusted me like I trust you.”
“I’m not a guy you should trust. I thought Brianna just explained that.”
I trail him into our courtyard. In the dark, the Dream Girl sits, where he’s taken her apart, too. “Could I go for a ride on her before you leave? How are you taking two bikes with you, anyway?”
“I’ll definitely take you for a ride. I promise.” He uses my keys and unlocks my door, puts me on the couch, and switches on lamps. Now he’s in the kitchen like it’s his, taking my favorite mug out of the cabinet. “Hmm. Sleepy Time Tea or hot chocolate?” He looks over at me. “What are you waiting for? It’s time for Heaven Sent.”
As he adjusts the crooked pillow behind my back, then hands me a steaming mug, I think that this is surely what it must feel like to be adored.
“I’m sorry I stole your shampoo,” he says as he presses play on the episode. “I don’t suppose I could have a spare key? I really want to have a bath in your tub with all the candles lit. It’s something I want to do before I go.”
After all I’ve shared tonight, this request seems like a tiny thing. “Sure thing.”
Chapter Nineteen
All we need is a stunning photo and we’re ready to go live on your dating profile,” Melanie tells me. “Here, put this on. And this, this, this.” She tosses random cosmetics at my head from across the office. “This, this, this.”
I lower my arms when it’s safe. “You’re forgetting. We don’t do this in work hours.” I get up from my chair to collect the makeup, but I’m so stiff I have to stay bent over. “Oh, my back.” My computer glasses swing on their chain and whack me in the face.
“You old granny,” Mel says with affection. “If you’re not careful I’ll load a pic of your bum, bent over just like that. You’d get plenty of messages from weirdos.”
“I will kill”—I get down to ground level and pick up a lipstick—“you”—a blush—“Melanie Sasaki.” Highlighter. Eyelash curler. She even threw a makeup brush. I straighten up with difficulty. “I swear, I feel it in my joints when a storm is coming through.”
“You are aging rapidly by the day. By week six I’ll be dyeing your white hair back to brown. I’ve got to get you out of here before I go.” She takes a long swig of the massive bottle of pale green juice on her desk. I already know from her earlier swigs that it tastes like celery had diarrhea. It’s Wednesday and day three of Mel’s cleanse. I’m desperate for her resolve to break. But even as she complains and overshares, I’ve been laughing.
I once thought I wouldn’t last in the same room with her until lunchtime without screaming, but now time’s passing too quickly. “Your end date is a month away now. So soon.”
“The temp agency is already sending me through new roles to look at. They think I’ll say yes to anything. I usually do, but I’m tired. I hope we think of my dream job before then.”
I ask the following, even though I know what the answer will be. “Would you consider working for the Parlonis?”
She gives me a Look. “Wow, you really despise me, huh. Do you know what they made Teddy do yesterday at lunchtime? They got McDonald’s and he had to plate it up like a five-star restaurant.” She searches in her phone.
“Look at this nonsense.”
He’s cut the Big Macs into tiny wedges. They’re laid down sideways beside a Jenga-style stack of fries, a nugget, and an artistic squiggle of Sweet and Sour Sauce. I can’t exactly tell Mel that I have already seen this photo, while Teddy was lying on my couch with his head on a cushion. A cushion that was on my lap.
Since my false-alarm meltdown last Friday, Teddy has stopped trying to keep himself out of my cottage. There’s been no threshold-lingering; instead, he’s been soaking up my hospitality and I mean that literally. He’s been soaking in my bathtub, singing “Wonderwall” through the unlocked door. Melanie would have a nosebleed if she knew. I really don’t know how it’s happened, so I wouldn’t be able to explain it.
He hasn’t made me feel like shit for my meltdown, and he’s come with me on each nightly security round. He washes the dishes and he knows every single subplot and backstory of Heaven Sent. It feels like Teddy’s been sent to me. I know that thinking like that won’t help.
I steer us back to work.
“As one of your last projects, I was hoping for your help planning the Christmas party. I was thinking of doing a vintage prom theme this year. Imagine all the ladies in pretty dresses.”
“Yes, yes, yes,” Melanie enthuses. “Parties are kind of my thing. I love organizing. I love inviting people, I love seeing them have a good time. I live for that.” Out comes her notebook and she begins scribbling. “Food. Decorations. Playlist. Invites. Food. What I’m going to wear. Oh my God, I can do my hair in a beehive. Eyeliner. Food.”
She pretends to chew her next mouthful of juice before swallowing.
In my Midona Project dedicated notebook, on the page titled POSSIBLE CAREERS FOR MEL I write Event Planner. “Let’s start with invitations. I usually give four weeks’ notice of the date, so they need to go out this week. Do you have any design skills?”
“I have been temping for ten thousand years. I have every skill.” The thought dims her light. Melanie looks around. “I can’t believe I’m going to say this, and it may be the juice talking, but I’ll be sad to move on from here. I’m tired of new people, new desks. It’d be nice to rest awhile.”