As soon as he’s done, he wants to get back home to Floyd. He says he often takes him to his studio, but today he wanted some privacy — I think he’s tired of the dog staring at us when we fuck.
I’m holding the pretty paperweight in my hands, ready to go, when he says, “I have one more thing for you,” he says. “Something I did for you a long time ago. I wanted to mail it out to you, but then, you ended things between us…”
I’m brought back to that day, a day which seems so long ago now. “I’m sorry… that was the hardest thing I ever had to do.”
“I know,” he says and reaches for a flat package tucked behind a chair. It’s wrapped in brown paper and has my name written on it. “Here you go,” he says. “I hope you like it.”
I set my paperweight down on the glass coffee table, and feverishly tear off the wrapping, eager to see. My heart warms at the sight of it. It’s a beautiful framed watercolor of an elephant, full of vibrant colors. It’s one of his best, in my opinion. “This is amazing,” I cry. “I can’t believe you made this for me.”
“Well, I know how much you love elephants. I thought you’d appreciate it.”
“God, yes. I appreciate it. It’s the best gift I’ve ever received.” It is. John has given me so much over the years, diamond necklaces, expensive earrings, the watch I wear every day, designer clothing, everything my little heart desired, but somehow, nothing ever compared to this.
I hop over to him, and kiss him on the cheek.
“Glad to see you like it,” he says.
“I love it,” I tell him. “I’ll hang it in my studio.” Yet, another reminder of him. I’m never getting over him. Ever.
I study the painting again, wishing I had half the talent he does. “I feel bad… I haven’t gotten you anything yet. You’re spoiling me with gifts, and I—”
He wraps an arm around me. “I don’t need anything from you… just you being here is my gift.” He laughs at his own words. “I’m sorry I sound like a Hallmark movie, but it’s true.”
I smirk up at him. “You ever watch those?”
“Well, my ex made me watch a few over the years,” he admits.
I smile up at him, thinking he’s the sweetest thing ever. John would never in a million years, watch one of those movies. I, on the other hand, love them. “Did you hate them?”
“Embarrassingly enough… no,” he confesses. “Remember, I grew up with two women in the house… even our two cats were female.”
I laugh out loud. “Well, Floyd is a boy, right?!”
“Yeah, I’m a real man now,” he says proudly.
I kiss him on the cheek. “A real man with a heart of gold.”
Chapter Thirty-One
WHEN WE GET HOME, Floyd is so excited to see me, he jumps up on me and almost takes me down. Eli laughs.
“I could get used to this unconditional love,” I tell him.
“What?! Does Elsie not love you?” he teases, and I’m impressed that he remembers my cat’s name, but that’s the thing about Eli — he seems to remember everything I say.
I smile at the thought of her. “She ignores me a lot… she’s a cat.” I wonder where she is right now, probably sleeping comfortably on the loveseat in my loft. The kids are at school, having lunch. I hope John is packing them good lunches with stuff they like — this is all new to him.
I help Eli in the kitchen as he makes veal with capers, angel pasta, and a garden salad. He’s got the veal and pasta under control, and I’m in charge of the salad and setting the table. I love these intimate dinners, just the two of us — no servers, no people, just Floyd. I can’t remember the last time John and I had an intimate dinner at home, just the two of us. It must have been before the kids were born. No wonder we lost our way.
Eli strikes me as a homebody which I love because I am too. Or maybe he just can’t afford restaurants. “I love these candle holders,” I tell him, admiring the blown glass.
“Yes, they were a gift to Clara,” he tells me with sad eyes. “I made them for her on our first anniversary. She left them when we split up.”
“She didn’t take them with her?” I say, baffled. “She forgot them?”
He’s still hovering over the stove. “I guess.”
I would never forget something as beautiful as these, I think to myself. Maybe she just didn’t want the reminder. I know if I were ever with him, and he were no longer mine, I wouldn’t want to remember — it would hurt too much.
