“He’s fun to be with, but when he’s gone, he’s really gone. And it’s not worth it to have to miss him. Nice to meet you. Goodbye, Teddy.” She leaves, and when she reaches the top of the stairs, her husband dashes up to hold her arm as she slowly clomps down.
The action is so doting and sweet my throat squeezes with emotion.
Imagine having someone who was so afraid that I’d fall. I’d really, really love to have something like that. Teddy’s going to try to put on a casual front, but he’s clearly affected. He won’t lift his eyes. His pencil is scratching in one spot on the pad, nearly tearing the page.
“Are you okay?”
“It went better than it usually does,” Teddy says with a cheer he doesn’t feel. “She didn’t pour a drink over my head or slap me.”
“Was what she just said unfair?” I watch him consider it. Then he shakes his head. “How many girls have you done that to?” I mean disappoint and hurt and leave. He understands exactly. Before he even opens his mouth, I know what the answer will be, because his eyes confess.
“All of them. It’s like my mom says. Nothing lasts forever.”
“Tell me about her. Your mom.”
“She’s very pretty, with nicer hair than me. Impossible, right?” He tries to joke but I don’t smile. “Her name’s Ruby. Ruby . . .” He pauses to think. “Hardiman. Grant. No, she’s Ruby Murphy now. Weird to not know your own mom’s name.”
“How many times has she been married?”
“Sometimes, I barely have enough time to pick up my suit from the dry cleaner for the next wedding. Six times. And as you’ve just found out tonight, I am a lot like her.”
His eyes search mine. “You know I’m going to leave, right? And you’re not going to try to stop me?”
“Of course not. Because you’re going to be the manager of your own studio. And one day, I’m going to drive all the way up to visit you to get my tattoo. Everyone’s got one except me. Brianna had a bluebird by you.”
He seems surprised. “How do you know it was mine?”
“I know talent when I see it.” I smile when he does. “I’d know you anywhere, Theodore Prescott.”
“If the studio doesn’t work out for me, I don’t know what I’m going to do,” he confesses in a hush. “I’m thousands away from what I need. Alistair is talking about checking out shopfronts, and I can tell he thinks I’m not going to come through.”
My phone interrupts and the caller ID makes us look at each other in panic. “It’s the Parlonis. Hello? What’s happened?”
It’s Renata. She bawls over a loud din, “Ruthie, what is this godawful noise?” In the background, I hear a faint siren. “We’re all deaf and half dead, but this is still managing to keep us all awake. Half of them are out on the pavement wondering if it’s the fire brigade.”
The sound sinks into me. “The office alarm’s going off.”
Renata says, “Well, go fix it. I don’t know how you can’t hear it. I cannot get ahold of Theodore. I have no one here to fix this noise. It’s not much to ask, is it? Peace and quiet? Do you know how much we pay to live here?” She lets out a screech of frustration.
“I’m sorry. I’ll be five minutes. Please don’t tell Sylvia. I know I locked the door. I know I did.”
“It’s just tripped. There’s nothing to steal in the office.” Teddy thinks he is helping but those words are congealing the food in my stomach. I’m sweating. I’m feeling like an animal, nothing but base reactions. He tries to catch my hand and I shy backward. “We’ll go together,” he says, but he’s too slow. He’s a person who’s never in a rush. He’s no use to me. “Ruthie, wait for me.”
I’m already running down the stairs, my hand skimming the handrail. If I fall, I’ll catch myself. I don’t think of him as I run to my car. I actually don’t have any thoughts at all.
I drive home like I’ve got Brianna in labor on my back seat. I run up the path toward my squalling baby office. I trip on a paver when I try to dodge a tortoise. For a moment I see myself from above and this windmill-limbed frantic sprint is sad to witness. This moment now begins to intercut with my memories of being sixteen and careless, distracted by a boy.
The alarm’s going off, but I can’t hear anything except my heartbeat.
My hand is jarring on the doorknob and it’s not until I register pain in my wrist that I realize that the door is locked. I drop my keys twice, unlock the door, fall inside, disarm the alarm, and sit on Melanie’s desk. I proceed to have a wheezing, squeaking panic attack.
“What happened?” Teddy says from the open doorway. Turns out he can hurry when he wants to. “Was it locked?” He asks this like he really knows me. “Breathe, breathe.” He moves me into Mel’s chair and makes me put my head between my knees. My airways have turned into a one-way street.
I don’t know what he says to me next, but through the fuzzy blackness, he somehow coaches me to exhale once.
When I can, I reply, “Yes, it was locked. Nothing happened. The alarm was tripped.” I ease up. Why did he have to follow? The last guy who witnessed this meltdown was Adam. Every time he looked at me, he had the memory of it in his eyes. I know this is very unattractive.
When Teddy kneels down between my feet and opens his arms, I crumple down into him. The smell of his body through his T-shirt is familiar to me now. That’s how long he’s been lingering in my doorway, following me around, noticing and questioning everything I do. Part of his delicious scent has adhered to my couch cushion. My scarf smells like him, my pillow, my entire bathroom . . .