Amy Inspired - Bethany Pierce [51]
By the time Eli finished his story, the bar had closed. Outside the snow had stopped. The snow-covered trees stood elegant as ladies dressed in white stoles. Eli wanted to walk.
“But what about your van?”
He shoved his hands in his pockets. His only protection against the cold was a blue pilot jacket that was an inch too short at the wrists. “I’ll get it in the morning.”
“They’ll tow it if they find out you left it here all night.”
“I’ll get it early. It’s too nice out to drive.”
It was two in the morning and not quite twenty degrees. Nothing a reasonable person would consider “nice.” I joined him on the sidewalk anyway. A sheet of ice intersected our path, and when I reached it he took my arm to guide me over the most treacherous part.
“Why did you stay on campus for Christmas?” I asked. “Why didn’t you visit your aunt?”
“She passed away two years ago. A stroke.”
“I’m sorry.”
He lifted his shoulders, a very gentle shrug of resignation. “She didn’t suffer. And she was lonely as a widow. I visited as often as I could, but there was nothing I could do to fix that loneliness.
“I haven’t seen Aden in years. He’s never quite forgiven me… .”
He left the thought unfinished. Eli was always surrounded by a crowd. I had never thought of him as someone moving through life alone.
“You know I’ve lived a lot of my life at the hospitality of other people,” he said. “And I never accept someone’s hospitality without appreciating it. It’s good of you to let me stay in your place until I get things sorted out.”
“Of course—it’s nothing.”
“Don’t say that. I know it isn’t nothing. Well, maybe it’s not for Zoë—she couldn’t care less—but I know it matters to you. You’re kind of a cat person.”
“A what?”
“You’re one of those people who likes things the way she likes them.You’re structured.”
My expression must have amused him. He asked, “Am I right?”
“It’s not a very flattering description.”
He was nonplussed. “I don’t mean it as an insult.”
Turning the corner to my street, we had no choice but to walk directly over a large frozen puddle. He toed forward, inch by inch, his hands perpendicular to his body for balance.
“What are you doing?” I asked.
“It’s slippery.”
“It’s just ice.”
“I don’t want to fall,” he protested. “I’ve seen people really fall. You can nip the tip of your tailbone right off.”
I laughed. I was happy and full and glad to be out in the night air, talking to this man who never failed to surprise me.
At home, I fell into bed half dressed and wide awake.
There was a bang on the wall as the futon fell against the wall.
“Sorry,” he called.
“It’s all right.”
I waited for him to say something else—Good night or See you in the morning, but there was only silence.
The next morning Zoë thanked me for taking Eli out to dinner. I didn’t know what version of the story Eli had given her, but I went along with it.
“We had a good time,” I said, reaching for the coffee, hoping it would magically compensate for a meager four hours of sleep.
“Well, just for the record, I appreciate you loosening up.”
I said you’re welcome, sure that if Zoë knew just how much I’d loosened up—how much I’d said and how much he’d confessed— she’d be more concerned than grateful. There was Eli’s girlfriend to think of. Jillian had been her old roommate, after all.
I did not intend on loosening up around Eli again.
9
I went to Valerie’s baby shower reluctantly, knowing I was the only one from our graduate class who’d been invited. I didn’t know the woman hosting or the women attending, and three hours of sharing cheap cake with strangers was not my idea of a fun Saturday afternoon. The house was new and smelled of paint and wood, of still settling construction. During lunch I held my fruit punch with both hands, nervously eyeing the white carpet while the ladies swapped stories of losing their virginity with the pride of veterans recounting battle wounds. The youngest in the group was getting married in a month and wanted to know whether she