Chapter Thirteen
I woke up early Sunday morning, the memory of the prior evening a massive blur.
I lay there thinking for a few moments, then, when Ollie nudged my elbow, climbed out of bed and let him into the backyard.
I leaned on the doorframe for a minute, watching him romp, smiling.
Then he moved behind the bushes and started rotating, so instead of watching him take a dump, I got a glass from the cabinet, filled it with water, swallowed half of it.
I thought about it for a moment, but I opened the other cabinet and emptied the usual handful of pills into my palm. I took them in one swallow.
I refilled Ollie’s water and kibble and let him in again, then started the shower.
When I stepped in, I stood with the water hot on my face for a long time.
Wow, the previous night had been a lot to process.
I still wasn’t sure that I was done with that task, but one way or another I felt very normal.
I hadn’t been sure if I’d wake up punishing myself for the scene at Grace’s or all nerves because of what had happened between Lisa and me, but I felt neither way.
We’d shared just that one kiss. It was short, and so sweet and gentle.
It was like a physical version of the words she’d spoken to me.
When it was over, our eyes had locked, but neither of us said anything.
Lisa had pressed her forehead against mine and told me to get some sleep.
I’d said I could use some. And I’d thanked her.
For what? For the kiss? For patching up my thumb? Or maybe just for being exactly who she was?
I threw on some comfortable clothes, got a soda and a banana, and sat at the computer for a while.
It was a good writing morning; words were plentiful, but they just landed politely on the page in the perfect order instead of in an impatient rush, forcing me to type as fast as I could.
Every few minutes, I stopped, let my head fall back, stared at the ceiling, and thought about that kiss.
It was almost noon when my phone buzzed. Ollie had been sleeping by my feet and he jumped and looked offended. Lisa Sutherland, it said.
Hey you.
I knew my heart should be pounding, but I still felt very calm. Hey. Did you sleep well?
Really well. Good to be back in my own bed. Wondering if you have time for a walk?
Now or later? We can be there in a couple minutes.
That sounds great.
Now, I knew my heart should really be pounding.
There was a fifty-fifty chance, really, that she was going to say it shouldn’t have happened.
I knew that, but I didn’t worry, just hit save, put on my shoes, and grabbed Ollie’s harness.
Although he could barely stop wiggling, I added one of his bandannas for good measure.
Lisa was waiting on her porch for us. Thankfully, she gave me a warm smile and squatted to talk to Ollie. “Now, you are extra handsome in your bandanna this morning. Very rugged, very Wild West.”
We fell in step with one another, Ollie a bit ahead as usual. We were quiet for a long time, leaves crunching under our feet, squinting into the sunshine. Finally, Lisa began. “Are you feeling better?”
I nodded. “Yes. Thank you. I took my meds this morning.”
Lisa grinned a little. “Do they take a while to kick in?”
“Sort of. The writing doesn’t go away until a couple days later.”
“See, I didn’t realize you had trouble.”
“I can do it, just not the same way. Without the meds, I’m hypergraphic, so whatever is probably normal is nothing in comparison.”
She looked puzzled. “What does that mean? I mean I understand the word, but…”
“I can’t stop writing. I have to do it almost all the time or so much gets bottled up in my head it feels like it’s going to explode. I don’t sleep, I don’t eat. I had a notebook at the gym with me yesterday.”
I could tell Lisa was turning that over in her head. “That’s actually incredibly interesting. I can see how that would be a huge asset to a writer, but also how it could really make things difficult.”
“I never really felt like it was difficult,” I admitted. “Trouble is, it’s caused by abnormal brain activity, so…”
“You don’t take medicine to intentionally stop it, do you?”
“No. It’s a bizarre side effect. We’re pretty sure it’s from my mood stabilizer, but this cocktail works, so we don’t mess with it.”
“That’s crazy fascinating.”
I shrugged. “Or just crazy maybe.”
“No, it’s definitely fascinating. So when we’re sitting there together and you’re not doing lesson plans or correcting papers—”
“Oh, I’m writing. Just not the same way. It’s actually…Well…It’s sometimes easier to write with you there.”
Lisa looked up again and our eyes locked. I wasn’t sure if I should have said that, especially when she spoke again. “So I need to apologize for last night.”
Oh shit. I shook my head. “I’m the one who should apologize for last night.”
“I shouldn’t have kissed you. You were at your most vulnerable and I didn’t mean to take advantage of—”
“You didn’t take advantage of anything. I wish you hadn’t seen me that way but you did and you didn’t run.”
“Oh Jesus, why would I run?”
“Because I’m an out of control mess.”
“We’re all an out of control mess some of the time.”
“Hmm, not quite like me.”
She laughed. “Girl.”
“A lot of people have seen less and run.”
“Well, they’re stupid fucks.”
Ollie stopped to investigate an old mattress someone had pushed to the curb. I looked at Lisa, she looked at me. And this time, I kissed her.
“Oh for God’s sake, get a room, ladies.” Mrs. Finley emerged from the shadows of her carport, sweeping leaves down the drive. Before either of us could respond, she waved us off and continued about her business, a big smile on her face.
We went out to a casual dinner that night, then settled in to work in her living room. We’d been doing our own things for about an hour before I felt her eyes on me. “What?”
“This really is different, isn’t it?”
I thought she was talking about how we were maybe sort of dating, but she went on before I could comment.
“You’re just writing, no stopping, no thinking about it.”
I shrugged. “I guess.”
“You type really fast.”
I hadn’t noticed that she didn’t, since a lot of what she did was pen on paper. “I took a high school typing class the summer after seventh grade.”
“Which probably helped immensely with your writing. Were you able to convert that stuff?”
I felt my cheeks going a little red. “We didn’t have a computer.”
Lisa stared at me.
“It was on a typewriter.”
“Oh shit.” She laughed. “Sorry.”
“Yes, I’m fucking old.”
“No, you’re not. I just wasn’t thinking.”
“No nursing home jokes? No I’ve fallen and can’t get up jokes?”
“Those come later. What’re you writing? May I ask?”
I cocked my head at my laptop. “This one’s a romance.”
“Really. I had in my head that it was a murder mystery. I don’t know why, really…”
“I’m supposed to be proofreading one, but I have until next week—”
“And you’re writing now.”
“Right.”
“Would you read a little bit to me?”
Oh God. Veronica and all my other girlfriends had read my books, sure, but never in the process. Not even the drafts I sent in to Jace. “Um…Yeah…I…”
Lisa smiled. “Want to know what I’m doing first?
” When I nodded, she taught me a song about Senor Don Gato falling off a roof then coming back to life.
I got to add “meow meow meow” when she pointed at me and I didn’t even feel stupid, although we were both giggling during the whole thing.
At the end, she took a bow and came to sit on the arm of my chair.
“Did I mention I have a master’s degree in this shit? ”
When I stopped laughing, I took a deep breath. “Okay. Do you want to go from the beginning or pick out a scene?”
“Doesn’t matter.”
“You can just read over my shoulder.”
“Nah. Read to me.”
I went from the beginning. I was nervous at first, but as I started to get into the groove, Lisa slid her arm around me on the back of the chair and laid her cheek on my head.
Instead of making me nervous all over again, I felt so settled, so comfortable.
She laughed at things I’d hoped were funny, and muttered “oh shit” when something embarrassing happened.
I finally stopped at a page break. I’d read a lot longer than I’d first intended.
“Then we come to a part where I’m not thrilled about how it connects to the next big scene. ”
“God, you write so well, and it’s amazing to hear it in your voice. Thank you,” Lisa said. “I know that wasn’t easy.” She kissed the top of my head and moved back to her sofa.
I missed her right away. “It’s stupid that it isn’t.”
“It’s a work in progress. I assume visual artists don’t often show their work before it’s finished.”
“True.” I thought about that for a long time that night.
Jace had referred to what we did as art before, but I’d never heard it from someone else, especially someone whose opinion mattered so much to me.
I couldn’t even blame her for laughing about the dinosaur I learned to type on.
I just wouldn’t tell her that I still had an IBM Selectric in my attic.
Wednesday evening Lisa came over after dinner.
It was one of our usual last-minute hangouts rather than something planned, and I caught myself wondering, as I proofed, if I should have spent a little bit of time with the trimmer.
Things were going so slowly I hadn’t thought about it, but what if this just randomly exploded into a huge mass of tension and I wasn’t ready?
Veronica and I had ended up in bed on the third date, but then we’d spent a good amount of the second one making out.
I wondered if Lisa was thinking the same thing.
I wondered if Lisa was thinking of going any further at all.
This obviously wasn’t all in my head, but it was so gentle, so comfortable, that it almost wasn’t sexual. I wanted it to be, at least at some point, but would I be happy with it if it just stayed this way, like friends with some benefits but not others?