Page 57 of Words Unspoken

“Okay, I didn’t want to do it, but I am bringing out the big guns,” Max grasped her arm and gently drew her along to the study.

“Max, we are friends. Of course, he loves me. Like a friend,” Ann swallowed and said the dreaded words that haunted her sleep ever since she had learned his secret. “Michael is in love with someone else.”

“That is where you are wrong,” calmly stated Max. He grabbed a journal at random and checked the date. “Ah, here are the good ones. He has got a way with a pen and a word.”

“I have seen the poetry. He loves her, whoever she is, very much,” Ann said miserably.

Max stared at her in surprise. “You are as blind as he is.”

“Max, would you please just stop?” she wiped away a tear. “We should not be invading his privacy anyways. Please put the journal back.”

“Invading his privacy? I have been reading his journals for years,” Max shrugged without concern. “Sure, Michael doesn’t know that I have been reading them, but I think it is about the only way to get inside his head and know what he was thinking. Especially when he was being the perfect robot worker for our dad.”

Ann grabbed the journal and put it back.

“Ann, the poetry is about you. Some of it is even a little suggestive, considering who it is coming from,” Max grabbed another volume. “Her golden hair, her blue eyes, her fair skin… it is all about you. Trust me.”

Was it? It described her and another probably twenty percent of the female population in the country. Ann tried to tamp down the hope that she felt. The poetry never mentioned her name. There was no way to know for sure. “Max, it is not me.”

“‘She makes the office seem more alive every time she enters’. ‘When the sun filters through the afternoon glass, her hair takes on a color like burnished brass’,” Max flipped through another section. “See? It is an office romance. Whose hair does he get to see every afternoon? Hmmn, I wonder who.”

He could not possibly be right. Maybe Michael’s mystery woman was from the office. Ann would give Max that much. She grabbed the journal and put it on the shelf. “Max stop.”

He raised an eyebrow and grabbed another volume, holding it over her head so that she could not grab it from him. “‘I lent Ann my umbrella since it was raining, and she didn’t have one. What neither of us counted on was the wind. When she returned from her dentist appointment she was completely soaked through’.”

“I remember that,” reflected Ann. “There was nothing special about that day except I ruined the umbrella. I don’t know why he even put it in the journal. He lent me his suit jacket and let me go home early.”

Max smiled wolfishly. “Really? You two sure have different memories. After you left, he wrote this entry and it describes your lovely curves as those wet clothes hugged your body.”

“So, he is a red-blooded male like any other and can appreciate the female figure,” Ann glared at Max. “Put the book back.”

“Nope,” Max grabbed another and flipped to a random page. “‘Ann is dating some guy named Greg Wilson’. Did you know he had each of your boyfriends fully investigated? Not only is that illegal but it is creepy when your boss is checking out your love life. I wonder why he did it? Could he be jealous? Greg seems to be a nice guy, but Michael certainly didn’t like him if this entry is anything to go by.”

Ann put a hand over her eyes. “It is odd, I will admit.”

“He is obsessed with you,” Max grabbed another book and read from a random page. “‘Her colors are as vibrant as the brightest butterfly, her smile a caress against dreary skies, she exudes perfection in every way, she grows more beautiful every day, soon there will be no words that understand, how to describe my ever-lovely Ann’.”

Max looked extremely satisfied. Ann grabbed the book from him and scanned the lines, finding it word for word what he had recited.

His Ann. His ever-lovely Ann.

Max poked her on the shoulder with each word. “He. Loves. You. He loves you.”

Ann believed him. Michael loved her. All those beautiful poems about her. She hugged the journal.

“I believe my work here is done,” Max bussed her on the forehead and let himself out, whistling merrily.

∞

Michael absently petted FedEx as he reclined on the bed after his nap. He was sick of this cat and mouse sort of game that he and Ann had been playing. He was feeling better and really didn’t even need to nap anymore but if she thought he was not fully recovered she might stay longer. He wanted her to stay in his life permanently. That meant that he was going to have to make her want to stay. Michael had to tell her that he loved her. He had to gamble that she might choose to stay and try to love him in return.

And he knew exactly how to tell her. He got up and padded, barefoot to the study, grabbing the very last journal that he had written in. The words were right here, for her to read. All he had to do was get her to read them. Then she would know. Then they could figure out what they were going to do with their lives. Ann would either want to be with him or she would look at him with pity and move on with her life.

He looked around the house and finally found her sitting on a window seat, a throw blanket over her lap, a mug nearby and a book in her hand. It was not just any book. It was one of his journals. She flushed when he caught her reading it.

“I am sorry. I know I shouldn’t have. It is just beautiful, the poetry,” she was embarrassed.

Most of the poetry was about her. It was fine. She could read every single one of them. Right now, Michael would like her to read one particular entry. He took the journal out of her hand and put it to the side.