She paid attention to details in a way that seemed almost instinctive and was completely outside my skill set. I saw how bits of code fit together; she saw how spaces did and what they needed to function and be beautiful. I didn’t always, or often notice right away, but my place had an ease and grace it hadn’t before we met.
Still holding the phone, I walked from my office to the kitchen, forcing myself to look at the space. I wasn’t sure how or when it happened, but many of the things around me, including the new hand towels in the powder room and sheets on my bed, were there because Elena sent them, and Anna put them in place. Almost as if she was looking out for me.
I sat with that thought for a moment while I refilled my coffee cup from the insulated French press. I’d burned up one too many espresso makers and come close to setting my place on fire more than once. If I made a mistake with the French press, like forgetting to put water in, the consequences were limited to me not getting my coffee, which was a thousand times better than airing the burnt metal and rubber stench out of the house.
Maybe Elena taking care of me came from the same place as me needing to hold her after the spanking? Or doing a jobthat was comically below my skill set because I thought it would make her happy? I took out my phone and started to type.
ME
I have new sheets. Thanks for that.
ME
And for the towels.
I’d given up chastising myself for not noticing things right away like most people. My brain worked in a way that let me solve other problems, and I was done feeling bad about that. But I’d created a set of rules for myself to keep me from being an asshole. When I noticed something, I said thank you right away before I forgot and ended up down another rabbit hole. And I sent follow-up texts. For clients, it was a calendar notification to touch base. For Elena it was an alarm I set for two hours after she walked out my door so I could send her athanks for the sextext.
It sounded crazy, but if I didn’t find a system that work for me, I wouldn’t do it at all. Then people thought what they did didn’t matter to me. That they didn’t matter to me. Which was especially false where Elena was concerned.
My phone chimed with an incoming message.
ELENA
You’re welcome.
ME
Still planning to come on Wednesday to try them out?
ELENA
Absolutely. Does that work for you?
ME
It does. I’m going to fuck you in my bed, but I want you to do something else for me.
There was a pause in her response, and I wondered if I’d gotten the tone wrong.
ELENA
Name it.
I exhaled in relief and thought for a moment about how to phrase my request. I loved the way Elena trusted me when we were together, and I loved how open she was to playing. I wanted to find out what else she loved.
ME
Two things actually, tell me your favorite color.
She responded almost immediately, which was another difference between the two of us. I’m not sure I’d ever considered choosing a favorite color.
ELENA
Periwinkle but the cooler shades. Leaning away from the rosier versions.
I had no idea periwinkle was anything other than a mollusk, maybe. Or maybe that was cockles. I did a quick search and found a small blue flower and a range of pale purplish-blue color swatches. I closed my eyes and imagined it on the walls of a room. It was a serene color, lovely and much more interesting than either blue or purple. It suited Elena.
And then, because I couldn’t let it go, I searched periwinkle mollusk and found images of an ordinary-looking edible snail with juicy-looking antennae and a spiral shell, about the size of anickel. It would take buckets of them to make a meal, assuming someone was inclined to do that. Just because you could eat something, didn’t mean you should eat it.
