It’s strange. I never would have thought I’d see this come to pass. Elise and my mom talking like they’re close. Unthinkable.
The urge to say “I told you so” is almost overwhelming.Of courseshe’d like Elise.
I knew that from the moment I met her. She’s smart and organized and driven, she’s had a successful small business since college. But I have to keep that to myself, at least until the wedding is over. Elise wouldn’t take it well, and I alreadyfeel bad that I’ve disrupted her life. If only it were as easy as backing away and letting things resume as normal, but I guess she wouldn’t want to stay here now that she knows who she’s working for.
That particular wonderful moment, Elise chooses to appear, ducking out of the kitchen to glare at me for a change. It does seem like there always needs to be someone on duty for that.
Since when can’t I go anywhere without running into her? I avoided her marvelously for the last few years.
Her scent is different today. There’s less anger. When our eyes meet, I see only her annoyance, but I can taste the warmth of her casual mood on the air. Interesting.
She’s absolutely swallowed up by a huge yellow sweater, worn-in jeans outlining the shape of her thighs. I’ve had this dream before, where she’s close enough that I could just dig my hands into the softness of her thighs.
After a few seconds of just drinking the image of her in, I realize I’ve started just leaning on the doorframe for support.
“Shawn,” she snaps, her voice like a whip.
The hypnosis her legs have on me breaks. I look up and jam my hands in my pockets, and nod at her. “I was just leaving.”
Yeah, I should go, but it’s just so easy to get under her skin. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t miss it.
She nods, and I’m working on leaving in any direction when Aiden thunders down the stairs, stopping the moment he sees us.
“Hey, E,” Aiden chirps, looking a little too obviously excited that he has front-row, standing room only tickets to this moment. “Still on wedding prep duty?”
She shrugs, and says, “Yeah, I need someone to lick the beaters when I’m done with the third cake recipe.”
“Yeah, sure, I’ll lick anything you tell me to.”
The first thought falls out of my mouth before I can really process it, but as soon as I hear it, I close my eyes and immediately wish I was anywhere else, anyone else, even.
Good god, man. Get a grip.
Aiden’s face looks somewhere between horrified that he had to hear me say that, and a little bit like I just handed him a bucket of popcorn for the show.
“I will see myself out.” I sigh, turning on my heel. I make it down the hallway to the foyer before I hear Aiden let out the snicker he was clearly holding onto.
“Wow. That was...wow. Yikes, dude,” he says after he fails to find the adjective he wants.
“Yikes doesn’t even cover half of it,” she sighs as I head out the front door. “Also, not telling you.”
“Come on! You too? I mean, don’t feel obligated to hold back just because he’s my brother. Feel free to bitch about him.”
“Really, I’d like to keep it private,” she says, and the moment I’m out the door, I’m digging through my backpack in search of anything else I can occupy myself with to avoid hearing them.
Work will have to do.
I move into the living room, sink into one of the armchairs and open my laptop up on my knees. Freelance audio editing, in addition to being a career path my dad would have hated, has really flexible hours, which is great when you need to travel.
Noise-canceling headphones help cut Elise and Aiden’s voices out a little, but I can only turn the sound on the audio tracks up so high before it hurts, and I can replay the same clip only so many times before it starts losing meaning, and the ADR work I’m doing feels off.
Staring at the much-smaller screen in the dark has been getting to me. Still haven’t adjusted to having one screen instead of three to spread different programs and folders out across.
Not quite sure why it’s such a manual process when it’s called Automatic Dialogue Replacement. My attention easily drifts from the lines the actress reads in every time I have to hunt for a different window to find the right file. Even when they stop talking in the kitchen, every sound Elise makes finds its way to me. The way she sighs, or her footsteps, the way she drums her fingers on the countertop when she’s thinking.
It’s so familiar it aches, carving out the spaces in me that she used to inhabit.
The end of us was...quick. I’d never had to mentally put her on a do not touch list.Hands to yourself, a refrain that has been ringing in my ears since I was a kid. Don’t touch the museum exhibits, don’t pick up strange cats, and now, don’t grab your ex-wife’s ass. Tempting as it is.
