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"If that's how you want to be." I throw my arms up in mock outrage. "I'm here if you need me."
She nods and pulls her cardigan tighter.
I bring my gaze back to hers. "Are you going to talk about this with a professional?"
Her eyes stay on the window. "That's not any of your business. If you want to stay and keep me company, I'd be glad to beat you at rummy, but I'm not talking about it."
"You only have to answer one question."
She looks at the window. It's flooded with light, but the curtains make the whole room dim and dull. "I'll consider it."
"Was there anything I could have done?"
Her eyes go cold. "Jesus, Luke. Not everything is about you."
She shakes her head. She's right. I know it's not about me, but still... I could have done more. I could have helped more.
She brings her gaze back to my eyes. Her face is completely unreadable, but I know she's hurting. I know there are things she can't bring herself to say.
She folds her arms. "No go buy a pack of cards at the gift shop. We have enough time for a few games."
"Next time, I'll smuggle in a bottle of Cabernet."
She smiles. Finally, a full smile. It's possible this will work out okay.
***
I spend the rest of the day glued to my laptop. I'm buried in work, but my mind keeps drifting back to Alyssa.
I still need to find some way to make this up to her. A small gesture at the very least. She deserves more. Hell, she deserves everything the world has to offer, but my options are limited.
It has to be something she'd really enjoy.
Something just for her.
So basically, tequila or coffee.
I'm not sending her a drink typically reserved for drowning sorrows.
But the coffee... She's mentioned Laurie's shitty coffee maker before. There's this horribly futuristic contraption she wants. It's Japanese and it's supposed to make the world's most amazing coffee.
And she's always going on about what shitty coffee Laurie buys--awful generic stuff from the grocery store. God, Alyssa is adorable during these rants. Why would she do that to herself? It's like eating drugstore chocolate. I assume. Or like... like going out for fast food when she could eat at a five-star restaurant. That stuff is shit--the bottom of the barrel. Like the tea dust you're always going on about. You know, the shitty bags with no flavor. That's what this is, and she buys it ground. She doesn't even have a coffee grinder. I'm not saying she needs to spend twenty dollars a pound on beans, but for the love of God, she could do better. She only shops at Whole Foods. They have good shit there!
She gets the most satisfied look on her face when she takes her first sip of coffee. There's only one other time where I've seen her that satisfied.
I pour over the options online. Then I see the perfect coffee maker for her. It's hot pink.
But I can't give her this if she's only got crappy store brand coffee. And it's unlikely Alyssa will allow herself the pleasure of buying beans she actually enjoys. What was that brand she liked? Something from Portland or Seattle or some place that actually has trees.
Stumptown.
I buy her a bag of beans, the glorious hot pink pour-over contraption, and a grinder, and I send it overnight.
But it's not enough. I need to tell her all this, to do more to remind her how much she means to me.
My fingers hover over the keyboard. She won't appreciate anything sappy or cheesy. It has to be real. She has to feel it.
I compose an email.
