The walk to the restaurant is slow. I’m still trying to get used to the different pressure on my foot. Charlie keeps an eye on me, looking for any stumble or weakness. The restaurant isn’t far, thankfully, and we have a reservation so we’re seated almost immediately.
Charlie pulls out my chair for me, and it starts to feel more like a date, which I’m not sure either of us is ready for. More than once, though, I feel like he’s tried to have an excuse to be in my vicinity. It’s been just about four weeks that we’ve been in each other's lives. I can’t lie and say that I haven’t thought about it more. Moments when he’s caught me after I stumble, or when our eyes meet when reaching for the same takeout container and our fingers brush. I wonder if I’m the only one that imagines what it would be like to feel his bare skin under mine.
It’s Mexican for dinner and that helps keep the mood light. The server makes the guacamole beside us, letting me taste it as we go to make it to our specifications.
“How has the leg been feeling?” Charlie asks.
I take a long sip of the margarita I’m finally able to savor. Since I wasn’t shopping for the alcohol myself, I wasn’t going to add it to the list of things for Charlie to get. I skipped my pain medication today so I could have this one drink.
“That’s a loaded question.” I lick some of the sugar off the rim.
The sound of Charlie’s booming laugh has the same effect as a sugar rush for me. “Alright, I know it’s not going to be perfect, but how does it feel to be free?”
I grab a chip, plunking it into the guacamole and salsa.
“It feels weird. Sure, I can walk a little easier, but I still can’t take the stairs on my own.” I glance up in time to see Charlie’s face falter before he throws up a wall, one meant for world and business calls and something to hide behind. I want to claw my words back, but instead my hand shoots forward and I grab his wrist.
His brown eyes study where we touch before he meets my eyes again.
“I didn’t mean that I’m not grateful for you and for everything you have done for me. I am. I am tremendously thankful for you. I may not be free to run laps around Central Park for hours, but you set me free in other ways.”
“How, Elia? You have no idea what your life was like before. What I took from you.” He pulls his hand back, but I hold tight to it, the chips and salsa forgotten.
“Charlie, it’s been a month. Other than the clients I owe graphics to, not a single person has come looking for me. I mean, sure, you can go a while without talking to friends. But a month without reaching out? No missing persons report? I’m a ghost, a nobody. I don’t matter to anyone. The people I would matter to, the people Ididmatter to, are either dead, or they’re not talking to me. Don’t ever think I’m not grateful for everything you’re doing for me.”
I pull my hand back when the waitress returns with our meals. The silence settles between us as we wait for her to leave, but she’s attentive, too attentive when it comes to Charlie, and I am uncomfortable with my annoyance at that. He thanks her, nodding that he’s good, even as her hand rests on his shoulder.
“Are you good, honey?” the waitress pushes.
“Looks delicious,” he says when she still hasn’t left or taken her hand off him, despite his visible discomfort.
“Smells amazing. Thanks again,” I smile directly at her and reach for his hand, giving it a squeeze on the table.
He turns his hand over, sliding his fingers through mine, and the jolt I get from us holding hands like this is so foreign. His gaze heats as he looks at our hands then meets my eye. We’ve been in close quarters, in each other's space for the last month, both of us too afraid of crossing a line with the other, but this is openly, intentionally affectionate in a way that isn’t strictly platonic. I hate how she made him uncomfortable. It was visible, obvious, but she didn’t care. I have to wonder if I’ve just become this attuned to him after all the time we’ve spent together.
This is the hint that the waitress finally takes, with one last offer to get anything we may need. I draw my hand back and rest it on my lap, ignoring the amazing smell of the enchiladas sitting in front of me.
“Honestly, Charlie, I can’t imagine I was very happy with my life before. Stop thinking about it as something you took from me, and think about it like it’s something you gave me. A chance to do things differently. Don’t minimize that because I’ll be able to tell if it’s going to rain because of my leg.”
Charlie gives an undignified snort, but digs into his meal, accepting my words.
They weren’t meant just to butter him up and make him feel better about the whole situation. It’s the truth. It hurts that I don’t have Vivian in my life, but something must have happened that I’m basically alone. I don’t know what it means, and I’m not eager to look the gift horse in the mouth right now.
I refocus the conversation into what it was meant to be, a celebration of my achievements. A step toward the future.
Chapter 4
SurprisecolorsCharlie’sfacewhen I remind him that it's Halloween. The way his eyebrows lift, mouth forming a perfect ‘O’ shape, makes me want to laugh and kiss those perfect lips.Kiss. I squash the thought almost immediately. I cannot think about how his mouth would feel on mine.
His surprise is followed by immediate panic at realizing that we have absolutely no candy to hand out to trick-or-treaters. I doubt that he has a costume either. I felt guilty for a minute, like I should have reminded him, but stop myself. Why should I? I’m not his wife or his significant other, no matter how much time we spend together.
“I can always go to the grocery store, or, you know, CVS or somewhere to get it,” I offer, knowing that lugging the candy back to the apartment would probably be a lot for me. I'm still willing to try, willing to start again.
“No, no, no,” Charlie declines. He reaches around me where I’m seated at the kitchen island to grab his wallet and keys. I try not to think about his proximity, how his body is almost pressed against me.
I should be thinking about getting back to my apartment, but my knee and ankle are both not healing the way they should. Each injury slows the other. If Charlie has noticed the bruise I’m sporting on my cheek from where I smashed my face when my knee gave out, he hasn’t said anything.
It’s a rare Saturday that Charlie has off and that he spends it running around the Upper East Side hunting for candy warms my heart. We haven’t had heart-to-heart talks about our lives and how we grew up, but there is a different intimacy to seeing someone before they’re ready to face the world with their armor on.