22. Sebastian
Idon’t hear from Mila until the next morning.
Despite what happened the night we met, and in the haunted wing, I don’t feel we’re close enough for me to ask her what she did last night. I play it light when she texts.
Mila: Brooklyn, Owen, and I are walking the castle today. Any highlights we should hit?
Me: Go out to the barn and meet Jed. He’s from Avalonia, where those laughing miniature donkeys originate. He has lots of great stories.
Mila: Are these the donkeys about to give birth?
Me: Yep. You all will be helping.
Mila: It sounds fun. And possibly gross.
Me: The miracle of life is often gross.
I wait after that to see if she will offer up a block for time for us, but no more texts come.
I sip coffee on the back porch, looking at the mountains. It’s warmed up again, Colorado being its normal indecisive self.
Arya slides the door open and drops into the chair next to me, bundled in a blanket. “Oh, it’s not cold anymore.” She lets the blanket fall to her lap.
“It’ll be a nice weekend.”
“You spending it with this new girl?”
I haven’t told Arya about our torrid scene in the haunted wing, nor do I plan to. “She texted me this morning, but we haven’t made any plans.”
“Hmmm.” She holds her mug with both hands, her black hair a snarl of a messy bun. I wonder why she never dates. I haven’t seen her with a boyfriend, or even trying to acquire one, since she moved in with me the first time.
I have a sense something went sideways with a guy while she was in college and I was working in Denver.
When I decided I hated banking and came back to Boulder, everything changed on us. Mom moved to India.
I bought this house and moved Arya in with me.
Then we had the Haley situation.
Maybe Arya has never felt security, particularly with Dad leaving when she was so little. I probably did my part when I was blindsided by a woman.
Am I doing it again? Is this why Arya seems so quiet since learning the one-nighter is staying around?
“You okay?” I ask her.
“Mmm hmm.” She sips her coffee, her eyes on the mountains.
I turn my attention to the view. “Remember what Mom used to always say?”
“Devi, the earth, is a goddess to be protected and admired.” She smiles against her cup. “Do you still touch the ground when you wake up to apologize for stepping on Devi?”
Now it’s my time to smile. “I do. It’s a habit. Sometimes I touch a window, if I’m not on the ground floor.”
“Really? That’s a good idea. I always thought it was silly to touch the rug, especially on the second floor.”
We both get a good laugh at that.
“I should call her,” I say.
“I did yesterday. She’s good. All the aunties keep her busy. They want to find her a proper man.”
“She should get divorced.” This was one of the situations with my father that stuck in my craw when I learned about it. Since they never had a legal agreement for separation, he never paid child support.
I don’t have any use for the man.
Arya romanticizes him, only knowing him from the pictures where he’s tossing her in the air or tucking wildflowers behind her ear. Even now, at twenty-six, I’m not sure she understood all the ways in which our father screwed Mom over, meeting her in New Delhi, getting her pregnant, which I totally blame him for, and dragging her to America.
Then, just leaving.
Of course, Mom was educated and smart. She had been studying to be a doctor when she was whisked here. She shifted to training as a physical therapist since she could finish quickly and support us. We ended up fine.
He hadn’t helped at all.
My phone buzzes.
It’s a photo of Mila with the donkeys. My heart feels pierced as I look at her, laughing with one of the miniature animals nibbling her ear.
Arya leans over to look. “Is that her? She’s pretty. And young. Younger than me.” Arya leans away again. I sense her unease.
“Nothing’s going to come between us. I won’t do that again.”
“It’s fine. You have a life. I should get one of my own.” She presses the mug to her cheek. “I can’t mooch off of you forever.”
“But you love your art class.”
“It doesn’t work for paying the bills. I know that. I just…I don’t know. I feel lost.”
“How can I help?”
“You already do. A place to live. Food. I’ve noticed how you keep taking my car to fill it with gas.”
“I don’t mind.”
“I know I don’t really contribute.”
“Hey. It’s fine. You figure things out. There’s no deadline.”
But she glances at my phone and Mila’s picture.
And maybe she thinks there is one.
I text Mila back.
Me: Love it.
Mila: We’re heading into town later, but tonight should be free. Anything else you want to teach me?
That sets me on fire. I shift uncomfortably in the deck chair. Maybe I need to take this one inside, away from Arya.
I quickly tap out a line.
So many things.
Time to flee. I hurry inside, feeling the buzz of another message.
I leave my cup in the sink and race up the stairs like a teen boy trying to get away from prying eyes.
Mila: I’m starting to understand the whole hot for teacher business.
I lie across my rumpled bed. I can picture her tangled in the sheets.
Me: Should I procure glasses and a tie?
Mila: As long as there’s nothing else.
She’s killing me.
Me: And you in a tiny plaid skirt, thin white shirt, no bra?
Mila: This is hot.
Me: You’re hot.
Dots appear, then disappear.
I can sense her hesitation. She’s unsure of herself. How many times has she said she’s never anyone’s choice?
Me: I will choose you every time. In jeans. In a Castle Hotel-issue vest. In a sexy nun costume.
That gets her. The text comes quickly.
Mila. A NUN????
Me: Wrong kink?
Mila: Kink is fun. Except when you’re handcuffed to a wall and hotel staff has to rescue you.
Me: Welcome to the industry.
Mila: I want to hear all the stories.
She must be away from the others for such a long text conversation.
Me: I’ll tell you more tonight. Show you a few.
Mila: Handcuffs?
Me: That can be arranged.
Mila: Not sure I’m ready for that. But I do have a skirt that is woefully short.
Me: You’re killing me.
Mila: Done. Dinner, then?
Me: Absolutely. How about I cook for you?
Mila: You cook?
Me: Totally.
Mila: And safer. Can’t run into other staff. You probably know everyone.
She’s not wrong.
Me: It’s only for now.
Mila: Ok. I’ve been spotted hiding in the hay room. Later!
I set the phone down and roll over onto my back. How is it that I feel sixteen again with her? Because she’s so young? It’s rubbing off on me?
The age difference doesn’t seem to be an issue.
Just the job.
Bringing her here for dinner is a good idea from a privacy standpoint.
But Arya will be here.
And that worries me. Is Mila ready to meet my family? Will Arya feel pushed out again?
And how soundproof is my room, actually?
I guess we’ll all have to figure it out.