Inconstant Moon - Default Font Edition (7 page)

Giving up is not an option if she's to finish the chapter and start the essay tomorrow. Gently peeling the blanket down she's rewarded with a glimpse of her book tucked in behind the small of his back. She tries to wriggle it out but no go. Sliding her hand under doesn't work, so she tries to roll him. A blast of beery breath in her face does not thrill her. Yuk.

Around the back of the sofa to try and get a hold of the book she reaches down and snags the corner, and is jiggling it to pull it out when Eric rolls off the sofa onto the floor.

Now Amelia's book is free, but she feels guilty for pitching the guy on the floor. Still, there's no way she is getting him back on the sofa by herself. Too bad Boris is gone, he probably bench presses more than Eric weighs. He could pick Eric up easy. No way she can. She takes a cushion and wrestles it under his head. He snuggles in and looks so sweet.

Too bad he reeks of stale beer. Reaching over she pulls the blanket across him again before heading back up the stairs for the night.

Pulling the door closed she sets the book on her table, drapes her robe over the chair and angles it to block the bedside lamplight. She switches it on. Not a twitch from Liz. Good.

She can finish her reading here. Curling in with Cervantes, she finds herself thinking about Eric. She's never seen him drunk. He always seemed to have it together Most of the other guys get shitfaced, not him. At least not 'til now. Guess everybody takes a turn. Wonder what did it.

Elsie, probably.

Poor schmuck.

The good thing about Saturday morning shifts is there aren't many customers before noon.

But it's still hard when you were up too late the night before. Amelia unpacks a box of books, checking the contents against the shipping manifest. Lifting out a handful of physics texts she carries them out front to shelve.

When the bell tinkles she looks over to see that it's Adam. “I need a spindle of writable CDs this morning” he says.

“They're over here. Sure you want CDs? You know they're more expensive than DVDs because of the levy, right?”

“Yes, I do know, but I need them for an old laptop that only takes CDs.”

“Ah. Too bad,” commiserates Amelia. “Anything else?”

He thinks. “Let me look around a bit. There might be.”

“OK,” she says, “I'm just putting out some new books. Just give a holler when you're ready.”

Adam looks through the rack of greeting cards, wondering what card you would get for the most beautiful girl in the world. These cards are all too foolish. Some have sexual implications that make him a little uncomfortable. Maybe a card isn't quite right anyway.

He's skips the iPad display. Even if they weren't beyond his price range the Apple toy doesn't fill any real need he knows of. But when Adam sees the Ubuntu mug he knows it is just perfect.

Not the big clunky travel mug, the delicate porcelain mug. It will remind her of him every time she sees it. Drinks from it. Every time her lips touch . . . wait a minute.

Calm down.

Surely it would be obvious to anyone how smitten he is with Barbie. Glancing around guiltily, Adam is relieved to see that Amelia is still in the back room.

Breathe deeply, from the belly, get a strong ki flow. Adam feels himself coming back under control. Once in balance, he carries the mug back to the register just as Amelia emerges with more text books.

Amelia asks “All set?” and he nods agreement, smiling. She sets the pile of texts on the counter so she can ring his purchases through.

Adam feels a little sorry for this drab, ordinary girl. She seems pleasant enough but she's so . . . colourless. Poor thing, not blessed with golden hair like beautiful Barbie.

It's too bad all girls can't sparkle like his Barbie.

Boris, Natasha, Liz and Jake are walking along the creek, enjoying the great outdoors on the Christie campus grounds. Although there are still leaves on the trees, more are on the ground.

Jake says, “I can't believe how warm it is still.”

“So where is this surprise?” asks Boris.

Natasha lightly punches his shoulder, “Stop buggin' her, Bo. We'll see it when we get there.”

Liz knows there is no way any of them will capture any wildlife in their photographs today. Jake isn't bad but Boris and Natasha are simply too loud. City slickers. Every critter for miles is holed up somewhere else, hiding until these large noisy intruders go away.

Still, Liz can't help but grin. She's actually having fun here.

She can't wait to show them.  Her friends. People she has stuff in common with.

Now that was something worth coming to Christie for. Imagine, people as interested in photography as she is. Heck, Jake is way ahead of her. For such a young guy he knows so much. And he's on top of all the digital stuff, too.

Boris and Natasha run ahead, throwing leaves at each other. Liz starts snapping shots of the leaf fight. Hah.

At first Liz doesn't notice Jake backing up behind her, taking pictures of her taking pictures. But when she does she whirls around to catch him dead on, camera obscuring much of his face but none of his intensity.

Natasha runs on ahead again, leaving Boris far behind. As she crests the hill she stops, and Liz knows she's seen it. Snapping on her lens cap, she tells Jake, “Come on!”

Liz turns and runs up the slope after Natasha, her long legs easily outdistancing Jake and passing Boris. Jake jogs over to Boris then drops into a walk beside him.

“Aren't you curious?” Jake asks, since Boris hasn't increased his walking speed at all.

“I expect whatever it is will still be there when we arrive.”

Jake nods, and they continue up the sloping path. As they reach the top, they can see the hill follows the creek down the slope to a little valley. Beside the meandering creek at the bottom they can see Natasha under a huge old oak tree. She is pushing on on an enormous tire swing suspended on a thick chain from one of the massive branches. A humongous tire.

The tire twists as it swings and they see Liz spreadeagled inside, arms and legs outstretched to hold on to the inner lip.

Boris grins and snaps off some shots as they start down the hill. “Good surprise. Think it's a tractor tire?”

“Monster truck maybe.” And Jake realizes that even Boris will probably fit in that thing.

Cool.

Eyes closed, focusing on the spirit of breathing, Adam begins exhaling through his nose.

Slowly he opens his eyes and gazes at the far away spot.

Extending his arm he stretches and points toward the spot until the exhalation begins to wane. He allows his eyes to close and relaxes his arm, allowing it to fall to his side.

Adam inhales deeply, beginning ki breathing as he focuses internally now.

Until he feels a touch on his shoulder. Without altering his breathing, Adam reaches up and grasps the wrist of the hand that's touching him. Turning evasively while breaking free of the shoulder grip, he puts his attacker on the mat.

His brother angrily protests, “Hey!”

Adam stops and blinks, releasing the wrist. “What are you doing here?”

His brother shakes his head and says, “We've got to stop meeting like this. Could you maybe try to remember that I live here too?”

“But you snuck up on me.” Adam is annoyed to hear the whine in his own voice. The problem is that his brother always makes him feel like a little kid.

There has never been any doubt that Adam was the smart one. But his brother has always had the far more valuable gift of sociability. Sometimes Adam has to quell a touch of jealousy for this older sibling who glides so effortlessly through life, as suave and charming as any Hugh Grant character.

Adam extends a hand and helps his brother up.

“I wish you wouldn't keep doing that. I just want to work out. That's why I put in the weight room.”

“Sorry.”

“You wanna spot me?”

Adam nods, “Alright.”

Adam loves his brother. He just doesn't like to be startled.

Eric watches Elsie sitting in the window of the coffee shop, sipping her cappuccino. The sun angling through the plate glass lights her auburn mane afire like an erotic halo. He sighs heavily as he emerges from the bathroom, walking over to slip into the seat across from her.

This was ‘their place.’ The only place outside bed they ever frequented together with any regularity.

God, she is so gorgeous.

Alabaster skin, sea green eyes. He smiles at her until he remembers, and then he looks away. He tells himself to stop it. Be a grown up here.

She smiles and says, “Hey, Eric.” Like nothing's changed. He looks at the table. She's gotten him his usual dark roast with a sprinkle of chocolate, biscotti arranged on the side dish.

He can't stop the sigh. “Missed you at Callaghan's Friday.” He looks at the coffee as he picks it up. Not looking at her. Blows on it, sips, sets it down. Stirs.

She looks at him closely. His skin looks grey this morning. Particularly in this glorious sunlight. Amazing sun for October. She can smell the alcohol wafting off him. Watching him not looking at her, she takes in the uncharacteristic stubble, the red rimmed eyes looking here, there, not knowing where to rest.

He licks his lips. Such lovely lips he has too, she thinks. Eric is possibly one of the best lovers she's ever had. “I got held up.” she says, watching him, seeing his jaw clench. Not a good sign.

He's still not meeting her eye.

Eric is looking at her reflection. Stirring his coffee, looking out the window.

Anything but to look in those eyes. She's so achingly beautiful. Maybe it was just a bad dream.

Stirring.

That's all she's going to say. Maybe it was all in his imagination. Yeah right. He's got a great imagination but he's not a masochist. Wake up and smell the coffee.

She's acting like it's an everyday thing.

He stops, freezes, as an awesome and monstrous thought enters his mind. Eric's fingers go slack as the thought sucks all the air out of his heart. He lets go the spoon, it clatters to the tabletop, flinging a few drops of coffee on his shirt. Like he cares.

Monstrous.

Maybe it is an everyday thing.

She's bent over the table, digging for something in her bag. The waves of glorious hair fan out around that perfect neck. She purses those lips as she finds what she's looking for. Withdrawing her hand, clasping it tightly she reaches across the table then opens it. An offering of his keys cupped in the palm of her hand. He just stares at them with dead eyes.

“You forgot these the other day,” she says.

As though nothing has happened. Her voice sounds exactly the same. As if everything is the same.

But it isn't.

Yesterday he loved her and thought she loved him.

Today he knows better.

He raises his eyes and meets hers. She drops the keys on the table, and withdraws her hand.

She knows. He knows. And she's still the most beautiful girl he's ever seen. She's probably the most beautiful girl he will ever see. And she's got such a brilliant mind. God she is smart. He thinks that was maybe more important than anything.

But.

She looks at him and sees him seeing her. Really seeing her for the first time, not the pedestal woman he had made of her, but the real woman.

She can see the lust in his eyes, mingling with the hurt and pain. The disgust. But the lust is still there.

And it's making her feel . . . she feels so . . . it's an arousal so strong she can't believe it. She bites her lip as the flush spreads across her face. She wants to knock all the bloody coffee stuff off the table and fuck him silly right here on this table in the window in front of god and everybody. She's never wanted anything this badly in her life.

He picks up his keys and hooks them over his little finger, just like always, and it hits her that he's leaving. Then he pulls out his wallet and throws some bills on the table. He's leaving
her
. He walks out.

Elsie grabs her bag and follows him out into the sun.

“Eric,” she calls. “Wait.” He stops. Frozen. Still tense.

She runs after him, comes around in front of him. Standing inches away. She stares in his eyes a moment, then reaches up and pulls his face to hers. And the kiss is the most amazing thing she's ever felt, the most sexually charged kiss she's ever had, she can't breathe, she needs him— needs him— right now. She doesn't want it to end.

But he wrenches free and walks away.

“It didn't mean anything.” she calls after him. She can't believe it as she watches him walking away.

From her.

Bastard.

The sun is shining, the trees are flaunting their glorious autumn plumage, but Maggie and Krystal walk in the woods oblivious to the beauty all around them.

Maggie asks, “So what did the doctor say, Krys?”

They keep walking, Krystal doesn't say anything for a bit.

Just thinking, they scuff their way through the fallen leaves. As they approach the bench beside the wooden bridge that spans the creek, Krystal says, “Let's sit a while, O.K?”

Maggie nods and they sit. Krystal clears her throat, but doesn't look at Maggie, stares into the creek instead.

“Nothing's changed. It's not growing as fast as they thought. But it is growing.”

“Can't they zap it with radiation or something?” Maggie asks hopefully.

Krystal sighs sadly. “Maybe there will be a breakthrough down the road. But there's nothing to be done now.”

Maggie doesn't say anything. She's not sure what to say. She's still not sure that she understands.

“Look I'm sorry I told you, Maggie. I didn't mean to. It just kind of slipped out.”

“What can I do to help, Krystal?”

“Just keep being my friend, Maggie. It's great to have some support, you know? But there isn't really anything else anyone can do at this point.”

“Oh god, Krystal, I'm sorry . . .”

Maggie's tears are flowing and Krystal reaches over and pulls her into a hug. Patting her awkwardly on the back, Krystal says, “Don't cry, Maggie. Please don't cry.”