The Writer (7 page)

With my hand on my stomach, I went into the bedroom, my bed both a horror and a comfort. I slipped off my boots and climbed into bed fully clothed, my tears my only comfort as I yielded to the sandman.

"Hey, thanks for driving his truck home the other night," I leaned in to whisper to Alex the next morning. "You're a lifesaver." I nodded as Marion took a seat across the table.

"Hey, I got your back," Alex whispered. "What happened, that night? Spill the gooey gossip, girly."

Later, I mouthed to him. Elijah ducked into the room. It was certainly not the place.

Alex winked. I knew later he would make me spill my guts.

Work had been... less than comfortable today. Elijah had done his best to avoid me, only speaking to me to tell me that Alicia wouldn't be coming in today.

When I got coffee this morning, Lucy, our regular barista, asked why Elijah wasn't with me. I told her he wasn't feeling well.

"That man is never sick," she eyed me, but didn't say anymore. "You want his to go?"

"No, he's on his own today."

Lucy eyes widened, but she remained silent – thankfully. My hangover had spilled into day two, but I wasn't entirely convinced it wasn't stressed induced; I certainly didn't feel like explaining anything to the lady who made my coffee. I took my latte and crossed the street to our small office.

I was a little excited to make it to the office, despite it being Monday. The weekend had been a tumultuous roller coaster ride of emotions, and the office promised some form of normality.

And I'd be lying if I wasn't anxious about seeing Elijah. My phone had been oddly silent in the last 24 hours, which was rare. Not a day went by that we didn't make some effort to converse, even if it was electronically. But I tried not to worry, and I was determined to start this week on the right foot. I skipped a little coming in the door.

Marion, Alex, and Tim looked at me, and Alex had an eyebrow raised.

"I love Mondays," I said, breezing past them.

"Well, at least someone does," Marion murmured.

Just as I was finishing hanging up my coat and scarf beside my office door, Elijah walked in.

"Hey," I said to him, thinking his hangover had got the best of him.

He didn't even look up, and settled in to his desk.

This awkward shit wasn't going to fly with me. I had spent all day yesterday in bed, wallowing in my own self-pity. Today was going to be different, and he wasn't going to ruin it. He was my best friend, and I wasn't going to lose him. I certainly wasn't going to let Friday night come between us.

I crossed the small office floor to his desk, and hoisted myself onto it. "Good morning, sunshine," I said, kicking him in the shin playfully.

"Good morning," he said solemnly, looking at his screen.

"Missed you for coffee," I began.

"Alicia made me some – we're saving for the wedding, and mochas really add up." His eyes were fixated on the blue keyboard in front of him.

God, he knew how to knock a girl off her pedestal. "Oh," was all I could say.

"I have a lot to do," he said.

It stung a little to be put off. "Oh. Well, I'll be in my office if you need anything."

"Yeah, I know."

The day went downhill so fast I wondered what jerk had brought the luge to the party. The office was so hushed by 10am. No laughing over the water cooler, nor any dirty jokes around the quickly emptied and then refilled coffee pot. The team went on with their work, with a sense of uneasy stillness. The place emptied for lunch with no arguments over sandwiches or gyros. Elijah jetted at 5pm on the dot, without a word. By 5:30, I was left to my own devices, the clock in the main room ticking loudly.

I packed up and got home by 6, and spend a few hours trying to occupy my mind. My hand flew to my phone ever few minutes. I itched to send him a text message. I finally decided that whatever was going on, if he wasn't talked to me, I wasn't talking to him. Two could play at that game.

Tuesday dawned dark and dismal, with rain in the forecast to ice over the light dusting of snow we had just before the weekend. Heavy gray clouds hung in the sky as I pulled up to the office. I was a little restless that morning, and had arrived a few hours before my team would.

Elijah's red Subaru was parked by the door.

Why was he here so early? I wondered. He rarely came in on time, and was so punctual about not reporting promptly, I was a little alarmed to see his car there.

The sky rumbled, and sprinkles dotted my windshield, as I rushed into the office to avoid getting soaked.

I found him at his desk, leaning into his screen. His glasses were on the desk next to him. His head rested on one hand, and he lazily typed on the keyboard with the other.

"You're here early," I said quietly, hanging up my coat. I flipped on a few more lights and went to the start the coffee maker. Out of the corner of my eye, he rubbed his eyes, and slipped his glasses back on.

Leaning back in his chair and stretching, he said, "Yeah, finishing stuff up. Hoping I can leave early today."

My back was still to him. I was terrified to turn around... I hadn't heard his voice so flat, so emotionless, since the day of the funeral. "Yeah," I said, for a response was needed, but not required. I longed to discuss movies, books, articles, games, anything. Anything would have been better than this horrible silence between us. I slowly started the coffee, hoping he would say something else to end it.

But he didn't, and I went into the office, and shut the door silently. I pressed my forehead against the frosted glass for a moment, and took a few deep breaths. Was this the end? I rubbed my arms against a sudden chill. My stomach burned with the guilt of what we had done. Where there any way to move on?

Elijah

I watched her go into the office and the door shut slowly behind her. My breath came out in a rush.

Why was I so terrified of speaking to her?

I could still hear Alicia's voice in my head: I swear, if you so much as speak another word to her, I'll leave you.

It wasn't that I was terrified to be alone – I'd had a few years between girlfriends, and when left to my own devices I was quite creative. But I loved Alicia, and I couldn't afford to ruin this.

I ran my hands through my hair and sighed again. Yesterday had just been pure hell, and I didn't know how I could do it again today. I might as well just try to go home early, and avoid the whole thing. I was such a coward, and it made me feel like a fool.

Could I really throw away an eight year friendship with Rochelle, just to keep Alicia? It didn't seem fair.

"Hey," Marion said, drawing me out of my thoughts.

I pushed back from the computer. "What's up?"

She blinked at me. "Really?"

I grabbed a pen from the desk and chewed on it absently. "Really, what?"

"Really, no 'Go away, M' or 'you smell funny, M' or 'how's the brats, M'... you feelin' okay, Elijah?"

"Sure," I said. "Why wouldn't I?"

"Oh, I don't know, maybe because today was the second day in a row that you and Rochelle didn't come in at the same time."

"So? We don't live together, M."

"Yeah, but you and Alicia do, and you have never come in together."

"She has a weird schedule..."

"Well, I'm just sayin'... it's weird, Elijah. When you guys aren't in sync, none of us are."

I really didn't have an answer for her.

"Alex and Tim have been raving about the party on Saturday night; they say it was really a good time. No one got too drunk, and everyone got home safe."

I nodded; she didn't need to know I didn't really remember. "It was a good night."

"So what happened?"

"Nothing, that I know of." It was the truth.

"Elijah, come on, something happened, else you'd still be talking to each other!"

"Look," I said, leaning forward and lowering my voice. "Alicia asked me to focus more time on her, since we're getting married in a week. Is that really so bad?"

"No, but..."

"And I do spend a lot of time with Rochelle, right?"

"Well, outside the office I don't..."

"Marion, the face is, Alicia is my fiancée, and Rochelle is a good friend. I have to get my priorities straight."

She shrugged, and her eyes darted about the room. "Okay, well, I hope whatever is going on doesn't last long, because I just don't like my friends not talking to each other – for whatever reason, okay?" She turned to go.

"Marion," I stopped her. "I need you to do something for me."

Rochelle

Elijah left around 9am, after tossing his completed articles unceremoniously on my desk without a word.

I braved the work day, hidden in my office. Tears threatened, and sobs thickened my throat more than once.

I cried that night, and wondered how I could fix this. I wanted everything back to the way it was, but it never would be. I knew then that he had remembered, and hated me for it. My dreams were nightmares of our time spent together gone horribly wrong.

The pastor stood stoic and silent behind his podium, his hands clasped on the Bible in front of him. He was decked in black, from shiny shoes to the dull black tie tight around his neck. His eyes avoided the crowd as they wheeled the casket to the platform. It seemed ironic that it was covered in shades of yellow, orange and pinks. Pastels had a difficult assignment: to ring in both new life and death. They struggled to be bringer of both good news and bad. Washed-out colors were appropriate for the fragility of life.

Matt would have hated them all and would have preferred camouflage or sports jerseys. The oak casket was closed. The mine hadn't let much to bury, but far too much to mourn.

Elijah stood next to me, gripping the seat in front of him so hard his knuckles were white. Tears splashed to the faded red cushions, and his body shook with the effort of his control.

It was the first time I'd ever seen him cry so hard. And I prayed it would be the last.

I slipped my arm around his waist and leaned my head into his shoulder. The black veil that covered my face was no match for the tears I shed. I'd always believed Matt was in a better place, but my heart broke for Elijah.

Even then, I longed to heal it.

I spent the night with him after the funeral, because he didn't want to be alone and his mother was grieving in her own way. In real life, we had curled up on his futon, trying to watch comedic movies to forget our sorrow, though it took us years to really heal.

But this was a dream, a nightmare from the recesses of my brain. As we looked into each other's eyes, he would lean in to kiss me, and the room would fade away. His kiss would be painful, like many of the men I had dated, and I would push away, my lip wet with the blood of a bite. Much to my horror, I realized we floated on a couch in a sea of lava that carried us to our doom. My skin burned, and he threw his head back and laughed at my agony.

I woke with the smell of singed flesh still in my nose and the touch of his kiss on my lips. Shuddering, sleep was impossible to find again that night.

I lay away until the sun crept over the mountains, the purple and blue hues matching the bags under my eyes. The mirror told me what toll the dreams had taken on me – from black circles under my eyes to abnormally paler skin. My eyes were dull; my hair was flat, and refused to cooperate. I pulled a navy blue beret over my short locks, and forced a smile onto my face.

When I got to the office, I was running a bit late. An extra shot of espresso and some additional make up had done wonders, but made me a few minutes late. Marion informed as soon as the door shut behind me that Elijah had called in sick, and that he'd said he would email assignment updates later in the day.

I was okay with that, because I wasn't sure how I felt about seeing Elijah that day.

At noon that day, I received a blow that escalated the situation. An e-mail from Alicia that told me, in not so many words, that I was no longer welcome to be part of the wedding, but she gave no explanation.

Well, it was clear to me that Elijah had come clean with her and told her what had happened. I was a little surprised to find the wedding was still going on, but Elijah was the king of charm, and in the end, I could see him apologizing to her and making it all okay.

In fact, if I knew anything about Alicia, I would say that she had probably just forgiven him with conditions, and one of them being that he wouldn't talk to me at work.

It explained his behavior, but my wound was still there.

I let the email go unanswered, for now. I was a little relieved. I wanted Elijah to be happy, not have to deal with my jealousy at this point. Besides, I had no right to feel this way... I delved into work that day, again spending as much time as I could in my office.

I closed the email, so tired of dealing with this. If Elijah wanted to end an 8-year friendship, then so be it. There would be...

Oh, who was I kidding. There would never be anyone else but him. I sunk in my desk chair, with my head in my hands. I hadn't a tear to shed, but my heart hurt and I'd give anything to heal it.

A pop-up dinged on my screen alerted me to a new email. Exasperated, and praying it wasn't from Alicia again, I opened it. Rochelle, your frequent flyer miles are waiting for you. What's keeping you! Said the subject line.

Absently, I clicked on it.

I had been so careful with my savings and loans. It had taken me nearly 3 years to pay off the business loans I had taken out to get the magazine off the ground, and it was always nice to see my statements had such a low balance. I rarely went out, and when I did, it was almost always on Elijah's tab, who insisted it was his gentlemanly duty. We took turns buying coffee every day, and once a month I set aside a small portion of our profits for our lunch meeting at a local restaurant.

I really never paid attention to flyer miles. Where would I go? Everything I ever wanted was here. My job, my life, my...

Maybe it was time I stepped out of my fragile bubble.