“Well, thank you. You look happy too,” I said.
“I am,” she said. “Gordon’s not coming in till ten, so I have more than an hour to enjoy my breakfast in peace.”
“Excellent,” I said. I started to head back into my office, and she called after me, “I’m here, you know, in case you want to talk.”
I sat down in my chair. “Thanks, Daisy,” I said. “When there’s something to talk about, you’ll be the first to know.”
“Fair enough,” she said. “Do you need anything for your meeting today?”
“No. It should be straightforward enough. I figure I’ll leave here around ten.”
“Avoiding Gordon, are you?”
I laugh. “Always.”
“Did you drive in?”
“I did. The roads should be okay midmorning. And the meeting starts at eleven. An hour should be enough time to get me there.”
“Sounds like you’ve got it all figured out.”
“Assuming everything goes smoothly, I’ll be one step closer to freedom.”
Daisy rolls back in her chair. I look up and she’s standing in my doorway, holding her mug of coffee.
“That’s good, Colin. I think this is long overdue.”
“Yeah,” I agree. My tone shifts from silly to solemn, and I hope she doesn’t notice.
“Letting go is never easy,” she continues.Of course she noticed. That’s Daisy for you.
“I know. I say that to my clients all the time.”
“Well, you’ll like Lydia. She’s the best. She sold my co-op in five days and got me top dollar for it,” she continues. “I know it’s scary to make big life changes, but I think it’s time. Just my two cents,” she shrugs.
I nod, trying not to get in my head about this meeting. “Thanks again for the referral, Daisy.You’rethe best.”
“Anything for you, kiddo.”
She winks, turns, and goes back to her desk.
Gracie
Buzzing off the leftover bits of adrenaline from last night, mypromise to the universe on this fine Friday morning is to focus up and give my story’s new direction a bona fide try. I brew a large pot of hazelnut Folgers and swear to myself that I will take only two breaks between now and lunchtime, and they can only be to pee and/or to refill my coffee cup. At lunch, I can check my email again.
I open up the laptop. The cursor mocks me.You can’t do it, Karlie London, it says.
I take a breath and stretch my arms up over my head, cracking my knuckles towards the sky.
Like hell I can’t, I whisper to the screen.
Where were we? That’s right. Presley and Connor are eating dinner on the floor in front of the fireplace—pizza slices and a chicken roll—and we have to experience this through Connor’s eyes. Okay. He feels sad—no,pathetic—like as if it’s not enough that his marriage had morphed into a sham, he’s finally back in front of his first love but is nursing an ass wound on top of her coat. He laments his choices, specifically the choice to stay with Melinda and try to take care of her instead of hiring a hard-nosed lawyer who could have cut that cord swiftly, precisely.
Hmm…why would he have done that though?
I think about this. Ah. Of course!
Embarrassment. She had emasculated him, not just during this incident, but over and over again for the past year, starting with his birthday (of course) and happening God knows how many times since then.
