“Like what?”
“The paperwork. Collecting fees. Scheduling common spaces. Being an enforcer.”
“Why not?”
“It’s just not my personality. I get emotional about it.”
“You can’t help that.”
“I wish I could.”
She sighed.
“I really just thought I’d find something with less paperwork by now. But I haven’t yet.”
“Yet. There’s a lot of time.”
“Like you. You just decided to come down here. You picked up and moved. I don’t think I could do that.”
He looked over at her. She was staring at the sky, shaking her head slowly, barely. He touched her arm.
“I don’t know if it’s like that.”
“How do you mean?”
“I would have stayed, if I could have.”
“If you could have?”
“I was told to come here. I was sent here by my boss.”
“Oh.”
“I’m just saying that…I understand.”
“I know.” She sat up. The back of her dress had stayed totally clean. He sat up beside her and realized he’d probably wrinkled his new suit. He clapped his hands together.
“Well.”
“Well.”
“So,” he said. “It was nice, again.”
“It was.” They stood up. This was it. This was the time. She had asked him to dinner for a reason. He knew it wasn’t a risk to ask her to stay with him longer. Just a little. She spoke first.
“What are you doing now, for the rest of the night?”
“I don’t know.”
“I could use a drink-it was like being at work with Simeon around.”
Just ask her. She touched her hair. Smiled. She wanted him to.
“Well,” he said and tugged at his sleeve. “I should probably get going.”
“You should?”
“Just tonight.” Thompson was right. He couldn’t push it when he needed to. And now he was stuck. Too late to change the story.
“I have a deadline. And my editor, he’s just-”
“I understand.”
“I did have a nice time.”
“So did I.”
“I’ll see you. Soon, I guess.”
“Of course.”
This was it. He turned around. Then he turned back. But she was already walking to her car. He let her drive out first and then he followed behind her.
He had to watch her from his car, fifteen feet away. The road to leave Sunset Cove was a long one, but it eventually turned. His headlights followed and at the foot of the driveway she stopped. She signaled and waved at him. He waved back and she turned left.
He turned the other way. Again.
CHAPTER 12
He waited until he got home to eat it. He’d driven to the convenience store on the way back to the apartment. Picked it up, paid, and left. And when he got home, as soon as his feet were through the doorway he unwrapped it. A simple Hershey’s bar. Nothing special.
He peeled away the plastic wrapper and set the chocolate on his desk. Be aggressive. He grunted. Right. It had been a long drive home. Each turn he rethought what he should have done. He could have asked her to have a drink. He needed to do it. But he saw her there. Heard her voice. It didn’t seem like she could want him. How could someone like her…
He broke off a rectangle and smelled it as he tried to take off his tie. Trying just made the knot tighter. He put the rectangle on his tongue and let it sit. It wasn’t melting yet. His fingerprints had a brown dust on them. He licked the tips of his fingers and waited for the chocolate to dissolve. He’d have to make it last. He felt it drip off the sides of his tongue. Water over a dam’s edge. It flowed to the back of his cheeks and stayed there, a singed sweetness. He broke off another square. Then another. Then two more after that.
When it was done, he looked in the mirror. He had chocolate on the corners of his mouth. It made it look like he was smiling. He wasn’t. He pulled the buttons of his suit jacket close to his stomach and stood in profile. Then he faced the mirror again. Why hadn’t he asked her to have a drink? What had stopped him?
He sat down at the computer and decided to get to work. Two e-mails. One from Gary and one from Thompson. He draped his jacket on the chair and started reading Gary’s e-mail first.
Dear Jacob,
I was going through some old things today and I saw something wonderful. A pair of 3-D glasses! And I was thinking, why not have the newspaper give out 3-D glasses? We could show the pictures of Sarasota in one more dimension than we do now! Three Dimensions! I was thinking that you could-
He wished he had another candy bar. He stopped reading and clicked on Thompson’s message.
Russo-what’s next? Remember our talk. I want to hear about something good. A really strong story.
The time stamp was from only a minute or two before. He was at the office late. Jake typed back frantically.
Sorry-had a late night. Went to banquet at a big local place. Have a great story. You wouldn’t believe it-a mad environmentalist stormed the stage. Threatened local developer, would like to do piece on tension between two parties. Condos: March of progress? Or environmental destruction? Violence or dissent? Freedom of speech, or chaos? Etc…great stuff.
He clicked send and went to the bathroom. When he came back, Thompson had already replied.
I like it.
Jake was surprised. Then he read on.
Good idea. People love banquet spaces. Bar mitzvahs, anniversaries. All that crap-give me a write up on the top places where retirees can throw a party. And get some good pictures, too. If possible, find a party with a celebrity host.
He wasn’t surprised anymore. He made the window disappear and went to the refrigerator for the two-liter bottle. He didn’t bother with the shot glass. He got out a mug.
The cream soda almost tasted sour. His body wasn’t used to the carbonation and the bubbles. He started burping. He took off his suit pants and put on a pair of shorts. As long as he was indulging, he might as well keep going. He went back to the computer.
He hadn’t done it in a while. He’d had self-control. But he pulled up the site now without thinking about it. All the old feelings rushed back. The excitement, the simple comforts. Relaxing and engaging at the same time. He signed in and looked over his shoulder, as if someone might see what he was doing.
It was like riding a bike. He went to a thread about an episode in season three and corrected a classic troll’s interpretation. Why had he been hiding it? No one understood Buffy The Vampire Slayer like he did. None of them could grasp the nuance or understand the hidden meanings. He belonged on the message boards, writing fan fiction and summarizing episodes.
He fixed a quote about Oz. His eyes glazed and he was almost calm again. He asked for a citation for a statement about season two. He argued that a character on the television show didn’t deserve their own biography. He felt full again and leaned back in his chair while he looked at the windows and exhaled.
Then he saw himself in the mirror, sitting there with his shirt and tie on, wearing shorts, the chocolate still staining the corners of his mouth. And the Buffy message boards open. He’d sworn he wouldn’t do it again. Any of it. And there he was. It was late, but he wouldn’t be going to bed soon. He could tell.
Why had it been so hard? Why couldn’t he ask her to have a drink? He looked in the mirror and had the answer. It was because of this. This was who he was. He wasn’t the person in the new suit, a person who deserved Mel. He was still this guy. Answering e-mails late at night. Eating chocolate. Drinking cream soda. Debating the impossible. He put his head against his arms.
Then the phone rang. It was her. He picked it up and started talking as quickly as he could.
“Mel! I’m so glad you called. I had been meaning to call you and I just didn’t feel like I could. But about tonight, I just wanted to say-”