The Novel Free

Two By Two



I pulled into the lot and spotted Vivian standing outside the studio. When I parked, she was already approaching my car, motioning me to roll down the window.

I did and passed the vase to her.

“Thanks,” she said. “Let me get back in there.”

I felt myself deflating like an old balloon. “Before you go – did you two have a good time yesterday?”

She was already backing away. “We had a terrific time. I’ll call you tomorrow to let you know what time you should come over to the house.”

“Can you send London outside so I can say hi?”

“She can’t,” she said. “They’ve already started painting,” she said. She turned and vanished into the studio without another word and I thought to myself that seals were actually lucky.

At least they got a treat.

I didn’t want to return to Marge’s right away. Vivian’s demeanor put me in a pissy mood, one intensified by the fact that I hadn’t slept much. Caffeine, I thought. I needed caffeine, and I pulled in a few doors down from the studio and parked in front of the coffee shop. No doubt Vivian would rather I had gone somewhere else for an iced tea on the off chance that London might see me! But in a rare turn, I told myself that I didn’t care whether she might get angry or not. I actually wanted her to be angry with me.

Maybe, I thought, that was the first step in correcting my need for Vivian’s approval. After all, Marge had been right about my reasons for racing to the studio earlier; even after yesterday’s lunch, I’d still wanted Vivian’s approval, not London’s. If there was anything positive to come out of it, it was that I realized that Vivian was making it easier for me to not want her approval; why try when it simply wasn’t possible? And if she happened to give it, I doubted whether that would change anything.

I pushed through the door, wondering if this was the first step in fixing this particular character flaw of mine when I heard my name being called out.

“Russ?”

I recognized the voice and spotted Emily waving from a table, a newspaper spread before her, a glass of tea on the table. With her luxurious hair curling in the heat and a casual, low-cut T-shirt tucked into faded jeans shorts and sandals, she was beautiful in an earthy, natural way. The sight of her made my irritation melt, and I realized that she was the very person I’d wanted to see, even if I hadn’t been consciously aware of it. “Oh, hey Emily,” I responded, unable to suppress a smile. Instead of getting in line, I found myself heading toward her table, almost on autopilot. “Long time, no see. How are you?”

“I’m good,” she said with a genuine smile. “My schedule’s been crazy for the past few weeks.”

Mine, too, I thought. “What’s been going on?”

“I had to finish some pieces for the gallery, but David’s been in town, too. And that meant a whole lot of running around.”

“You mentioned that he’d be around. How much longer is he staying?”

“It’s his last weekend. He’ll be flying back to Sydney on Tuesday.”

As she spoke, I caught the glint of reflected light in her hazel eyes, triggering memories that seemed to make the years roll backward. I motioned toward the counter and the words were out before I could stop them. “Will you be here for a few minutes? I was thinking about getting some iced tea.”

“I’ll be here,” she said. “The raspberry tea is fantastic.”

I went to the counter and ordered; I took her advice and when it was ready, I brought my glass to the table. She’d just finished folding up the paper, making room, as I took a seat.

“Anything interesting in the paper?”

“A lot of bad stuff. It gets old. I wish there were more stories about good things.”

“That’s why they have the sports section.”

“I suppose. But only if your team wins, right?”

“If they lose, I skip the sports section.”

It wasn’t particularly funny, but she laughed anyway. I liked that. “What’s been going on with you?” she asked. “I haven’t seen you in forever.”

“I wouldn’t even know where to start.”

“Did you film those commercials like you wanted? For the lawyer?”

“I did. They’re being finalized in the editing room now, and the first one will hopefully air in about two weeks. I’m filming another one for him next week. And I also signed a plastic surgeon as a client.”

“Is he any good? In case I need his services?”

“I hope so,” I said. “But you don’t need any work done.”

“Good answer,” she said, “even if it’s not true. And congratulations on the new account. I know you were worried and I’m glad it’s working out for you.”

“I’ll need another few clients before I breathe a sigh of relief, but I do feel like I’m finally on the right track.”

“And you’ve lost some weight, I notice.”

“Fifteen pounds.”

“Did you want to lose weight? Because I didn’t think you needed to lose any in the first place.”

I couldn’t help comparing her response to Vivian’s, when she’d mentioned my jowls.

“I’m still a few pounds from where I want to be. I’ve started running again, doing push-ups, all that good stuff.”

“Good for you. I can tell it’s working. You look great.”
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