Lena

 

 

My phone rings just after I've curled up next to him on the couch again, ready to get even warmer with a fresh mug of mulled wine. The entire room smells like it, mixed with the subtle smell of burning wood as the fire crackles in the background. The last thing I want to do right now is get up to answer my phone.

It's Aileen. I stare at the screen for a moment, pondering whether or not to just click her away, but I know I shouldn't. It would just make her worry.

I excuse myself, feeling his watchful eyes following me as I walk out of the room with the phone pressed against my ear.

"Hey."

"Hey, girl!" Aileen pipes at the other end. "When were you going to tell me about your guest?"

I hurry to get up the stairs, out of earshot.

"I don't know.... now?" I respond, anxiously glancing over my shoulder as if I was worried about him following me upstairs.

"I don't know how to ask this in a polite way, but… are you insane?" Aileen asks breathlessly. "What the hell were you thinking? I mean he's gorgeous, but he's such an asshole!"

"How do you even know about this?"

She snorts. "I talked to Mrs. Lynn about my shift tomorrow, silly. How do you think?"

"Oh, right."

Of course. Mrs. Lynn. How could I not know that? Even so, it was still just a matter of time until everyone found out about this. I knew that. But just like so many other things, I filed this under future-Lena's troubles.

"He needed somewhere to stay, and he couldn't stay with Mrs. Lynn," I explain. "He showed up at the diner, stranded. He had nowhere to go."

I bite my lips, my eyes wandering over to my closed bedroom door.

"Besides, he was acting much nicer then," I add. "He had been under a lot of stress when we first met him-"

"Is there something going on between you two?" Aileen sounds like a worried mom. "Mrs. Lynn spoke of him as if he was some kind of saint, probably because he reminded her of her son, but still..."

I'm so glad that Aileen can't see the blush blossoming on my cheeks. Should I tell her? She's my best friend, but she's always been skeptical and conservative about my - as she calls it - "exploits" with men. It's easy for her to say. She got married right out of high school. My dating history is completely opposite of her experience.

"He has been the perfect gentleman," I lie. I feel awful about doing it, but there's no reason to get her worked up over something that will no longer matter once he's gone. Very soon. Everybody is entitled to keeping a few secrets, even from their best friend. "He's sleeping on the couch, and he even chopped some wood for me. There's nothing to worry about."

"Oh," she states. "I just wanted to make sure you were okay."

"I am. I really am."

Another lie.

"Okay, good to hear. Will I see you tomorrow?"

I turn to the window, realizing that I haven't really checked on the weather in a while. When we were outside splitting wood, it was noticeably calmer and the snow had started tapering off from yesterday, but it actually looks as if the snow has stopped entirely.

"Will the diner be open?" I ask, walking over to the window.

"I think it’s only going to be closed today," Aileen says.

"Oh, good," I reply. "So, the weather is clearing up."

"Yeah, so they say. Don't you check the forecasts?"

Only now do I realize I haven't really checked on the weather since he got here. I was too... preoccupied.

"Sure, I do," I stutter. We make a bit more small talk, and then disconnect.

My eyes linger on the window after I end the call. It definitely has cleared up, and the snow has stopped falling.

My heart lurches. I knew this moment would come, but I'm still nowhere near prepared for it. He can leave. He will leave. And I’ll never see him again.

I take a deep breath before heading back downstairs, bracing myself to tell him the good news, even though that's not what it feels like at all.

But from the looks of it, he doesn't need me to tell him. When I come back to the living room, I find him with his laptop open at the kitchen counter, his eyes glued to the screen.

"Looks like the blizzard has moved on," he informs me, without looking away from the screen.

"Yeah, looks like it," I say.

I try to read the expression on his face, but once again, it’s clear of meaning. He just sits there, his attention concentrated and fully immersed on the text on his screen.

"They're clearing the roads," he adds. "And the airports will most likely be open by tomorrow. I should probably call to see if I can book a flight out."

"Yeah, you should."

My chest aches with his every word, and my shoulders sag when I sit down next to him. Nothing about him suggests that he's sad or the least bit reluctant about leaving. Is he really that heartless and cold? Did these past two days not mean anything to him?

He's smiling when he turns to me, but I don't know how to interpret that smile, even when he starts speaking.

"Guess we'll have to make this last night count," he says.

Last night. The words feel like a knife to my heart. I feel like a fool for thinking that this would last in some way. That he would care enough for me to...

To do what? Stay? I know he can't stay, and I know I can't just go with him. We live totally different lives in totally different worlds.

But does it really have to stay that way?

For him, it seems it does.

He draws me in for a kiss. I barely manage to hold back the traitorous tears when he closes his hand around my throat, evoking a memory that is as beautiful as it is sad.

Because it won't happen again. Not after tonight.