“No, my alarm clock just went off. It’s seven. It’s what time I always get up,” Flynn said, his voice gruff from sleep. He walked into the kitchen, and I followed him, Murphy and me dogging his steps as though waiting for a crumb of affection. I looked down at the hairy mutt and rolled my eyes.
Flynn went about his morning, not speaking. He turned on the coffee machine and then opened the back door to let the dog out.
I watched him as he filled Murphy’s bowl with food, measuring exactly one cup of kibble. He carefully folded the bag closed and put it back on the shelf before grabbing the bread from the counter and putting two slices in the toaster. Every action was methodical. By rote after years of never altering his routine.
This was Flynn’s life.
He went about the steps of his day, never deviating. And he was happy with that. He needed the consistency and the monotony. He only thrived in the predictable.
The very things I had run away from.
“Can I come by and have lunch with you today?” I asked suddenly.
Flynn frowned, not looking up from the magazine he had left open on the kitchen table the night before and was now reading. “I take my lunch with me. I eat it in my classroom,” he said as though that should explain everything.
Murphy started scratching at the back door, and I went to let him in but Flynn beat me to it. He all but pushed me aside as he let the dog in and meticulously wiped his paws.
I sighed. “I know you take your lunch with you. But why don’t I bring you something today?” I suggested, trying to smile.
“What would you bring me? I always eat a chicken salad sandwich. I made it last night. It’s all ready,” Flynn said. Of course I knew he ate a chicken salad sandwich for lunch. He had been eating a chicken salad sandwich for lunch as long as I had known him.
“Why don’t you try something different today,” I said, reaching for two mugs and pouring coffee into them.
“No milk. Two sugars,” Flynn instructed, and I had to bite my lip so I wouldn’t say something sarcastic that he’d never understand anyway.
“Yeah, I know how you take your coffee, Flynn,” I muttered, handing him the mug.
Flynn looked at me for a minute. “You want to bring me lunch,” he stated.
I nodded, not sure why I was pushing the subject. But it seemed important. Irrationally so.
“You want to eat with me,” Flynn continued. I knew that diverging from his daily schedule could potentially cause him problems. It could leave him feeling off balance and easy to anger. I knew it was most likely too spontaneous for him.
I was just about to take the offer back when he agreed to the plan, shocking the hell out of me.
“I’d like to see you today. We can have lunch together,” he declared firmly, as though making a very important proclamation.
“Really?” I asked, my eyes widening. I wondered whether I should mark this momentous day on the calendar to remember it. It was akin to asking him to jump out of an airplane without a parachute.
“Yes. That sounds nice. We can have lunch in my office. It’ll be quieter there than in my classroom. I’ll eat whatever you bring me,” Flynn announced and he seemed almost proud of himself. And I knew to him itwasa big deal. It was an acquiescence that was most likely very difficult for him to make. But he was making it…for me.
My dream Flynn flashed through my head and I violently pushed him away. Murdering him before he could take root and taunt me mercilessly with his smiles and handholding and kisses without pulling away.
I smiled at my real Flynn, the man with a mess of faults as complicated as my own.
Flynn smiled back and then reached out to take my hand. I startled at the contact, but then felt warm all over as he squeezed my fingers.
“I love you,” I said, meaning it with every single, tiny, jagged piece of me.
He didn’t respond. He never did. But he held my hand.
And for that brief moment, it was enough.
Chapter Eleven
-Ellie-
I saw the new kid walking down the sidewalk away from the school. He was staring at the watch on his wrist and mumbling to himself.
