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The Memory Artists - Jeffrey Moore [107]

By Root 1089 0
that gets into them & makes them sick …

March 5

While Noel was at the library, I spent all day with JJ, shopping & cleaning up the house & making adjustments that will make it easier for Stella to function—some of the things I’ve learned in class and from Dr. Vorta. Anyway, we laughed all day, about totally silly things. JJ’s like joy medicine. Despite having a few … idiosyncrasies, shall we say. For example, he’s a compulsive butt-clencher—clench-release-clench-release, hundreds of times a day— walking down the hall, making lunch, talking to Mrs. Burun. It’s hard to look at anything else. You find yourself counting, tapping your toes and, if you’re not careful, squeezing right along with him.

March 7

Got to see Noel interact with his mom today. From a distance, kind of eavesdropping. I could learn a few things from him—he’s patient, attentive, warm … Every night, according to JJ, he reads to her, every night he fills in gaps in her forgotten life. Last night, at her request, he & JJ made these incredible fireworks & set them off in the back yard. His mother watched them like a little girl, totally spellbound. (JJ was like a little boy, literally jumping up & down.) It’s so nice seeing Noel & his mom together, the way they smile, touch, communicate without words. Wouldn’t mind having that kind of relationship with my mother. With anyone.

Better stop here, starting to sound like Pollyanna.

March 8

Things are working out well. School is good, living here is good. Haven’t seen much of Mrs. Burun because I’ve been at school or the library—making up for missed classes! Haven’t seen Noel either, who’s down in the cellar most of the time. My only regret is that I’m not helping his mother very much, as I promised to do …

March 10

I suspect—no, I know—that Noel has feelings for me. And I hardly needed my woman’s intuition to figure that one out. I better be careful—he’s the last person I want to hurt.

Would that be remotely possible? A relationship with Noel? No, simply not in the cards, ever. (1) I’m besotted by his best friend. (2) He’s “unmanageably weird,” as Nor says, with too many problems—I have more than enough of my own, thank you very much. (3) I don’t need any more men in co-dependent relationships with their mothers. (4) I’m not attracted to “nice guys,” unfortunately, never have been & never will be. (5) I’m not good enough for him—I’m hardly the saint he thinks I am.

March 11

I think JJ’s good for Noel, seeing things that Noel is sometimes blind to—like the guy who sees all the engineers futzing with a broken machine and realizes that no one has thought to plug it in. Today they were down in the lab all day, so I ended up spending the entire time with Noel’s mom. She’s a wonderful woman, very elegant & refined & beautiful—especially after I did her hair & helped her select some things to wear! Diane Von Furstenberg & Kate Spade classics. She looked fabulous! Fifty-six going on thirty-six. I learned quite a bit about her from going through her albums & books. She’s an historian—or was—and even wrote bios on Hypatia of Alexandria & Ada Byron, Countess Lovelace (which I’ve borrowed, because I hadn’t heard of either one).

March 12

Haven’t seen Noel in a while. It’s like he’s avoiding me, or angry with me. For not doing enough around the house? Maybe he’s just not interested in me, in the way I thought he was. Or maybe he’s just too busy, too obsessed with his work downstairs. Or maybe he’s got a new girlfriend. Or maybe I’m paranoid …

March 13

That new girlfriend may be the “Bath Lady”. A merry divorcée with flamenco-red lipstick, plunging neckline & huge, seemingly inflatable breasts, which she practically engulfs him with every time they hug/meet. She’s been coming on to him for months, according to his mom. They seem to have a certain intimacy … I’ve found notes she’s written—pointless Post-Its regarding his mom with X’s or hearts at the end. Not that it’s any of my business, but I don’t think she’s right for Noel, and I don’t think she should get her (long & painted) claws into him. It may be my imagination,

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