Page 7 of Melancholia

There’s no way this well-dressed, put-together man drives something common like my Hyundai. The dogs themselves look like they’d reject getting in anything as low-class as my car.

“Sorry?” He tilts his head, looking bemused. “Why are you sorry? My dogs knocked you over.”

“No, no, I wasn’t paying attention to where I was going.” Thankfully stopping myself before saying I was busy staring at what is probably his car.

That would make this somehow even more humiliating, and I’ve already had a hard night.

In the window of Coffee Crest, I see Mary pressing her face to the glass like she’s watching her favorite Telenovela, though I pretend I can’t see her.

“Nell?” The door opens again and Hestia walks out, still in her apron, with her hair pulled back from her sharp cheekbones and dark green eyes. “Are you okay?” She glances between us, then down at the dogs. “Are you two menacing my renter?” she coos and reaches toward them with familiarity. “Are you going to leave Auntie Hestia in debt?”

“Auntie Hestia would only be in debt because of her poor financial choices,” the man deadpans, then turns back to me. “I’m sorry again. Even though you say it wasn’t their fault. The dogs are very kind, unless given a reason not to be, but that’s no excuse.”

“Oh. Well, umm.” I glance down at them. “I will accept your apology if you tell me their names?”

The man looks at me curiously before his smile widens, somehow growing warmer and more genuine than the polite mask he wore for his apology. “Noctis. He’s four.” He points at the slightly larger Shepherd whose fur seems to curl along his back like the start of a mohawk when paired with the straighter fur on his sides. “And Umbra. She’s three.” He pets the smaller Shepherd, whose tail wags happily. When I reach a hand out to her, after glancing at the man to make sure it’s okay, it’s Noctis who bodies himself between me and her to sniff my palm and then lean against my legs.

“God, I need a dog,” I sigh.

“Sure,” Hestia agrees. “You can have a dog as soon as Amir agrees to part with one of these two. Any other dog? Absolutely not.”

The man—Amir—snorts and rolls his eyes fondly. He unties the leashes from the hook, already heading toward the corner. “Not on your life, Hestia.” His gaze switches to me, and he seems to study me for just a moment. “It was nice meeting you…?” He leaves the statement open ended, clearly wanting my name.

“Nell,” I say. “I’m…just Nell.” God, I’m lame.

“It was nice meeting you, Nell.” He doesn’t remark on my awkwardness, just gives a soft command to the two dogs and rounds the corner. Probably heading to the Range Rover, I’ve decided, and I refuse to be wrong. Even if I don’t crane my head around to see.

“Well, I haven’t seen him in a while,” Hestia says finally, once we hear a vehicle driving away.

“You know him?”

The dark-haired woman nods twice. “Yeah. Just…haven’t seen him in a bit.” There’s something on her face I can’t quite read, but before I get the chance to ask, she brightens. “Anyway. Want to do a display case clean-out? There’s a quiche left and it’s all yours. I’m closing a few minutes early.”

“You? Close early?” My head is starting to ache, but a quiche sounds great after not getting the diner food I had apparently been really looking forward to. “Who are you and where’s my landlord?”

But she only laughs and glances back toward the parking lot, an undeniably pensive look in her eyes before she pulls the door open and ushers me inside.

Meds and bed can wait, I suppose. I don’t want to be rude to her when I do care what Hestia thinks of me. Even if that means helping her clean up with Mary literally over my shoulder, telling me all the things I’m doing wrong and running through every embarrassing millisecond of my interaction with Amir.

3

The sound of my phone going off is like a war crime against my ears as it comes through the headphones I sleep in, and I sigh. Instead of getting up, I push my face harder into my pillow, as if I can suffocate myself back into unconsciousness.

It’s…probably spam, I tell myself as my brain unwillingly drags itself from sleep. It takes another few seconds for me to realize I’m not hearing my default ringtone, but the funeral march that signals a call coming in from Cecil.

Fuck.

Is it too on point? Maybe. Is it cliche? Definitely. But it always brings me just a little bit of joy whenever he calls and the foreboding, classic music plays from somewhere on my person or nearby.

“Hello?” I greet after finally managing to grab my phone and pull it to my ear. Mentally, I catalogue the days—he’s only been gone for three. Surely he can’t be coming home yet. Everything has been running smoothly, and even though he’s sent me a few check-in messages, he hasn’t really seemed worried. Not that I’ve given him any reason to be.

“I’ve woken you up. I’m sorry.” For a few moments, I think I hear rain coming from the phone along with his voice, only to realize the rain is coming from my side of the connection. The storms have finally hit, though a couple days later than forecasted, and the metal roof echoes with the downpour above my head. “You know I wouldn’t call this late if it wasn’t important.” There’s a resigned apology in his voice that I’m used to hearing from him, though not usually directed at me.

“It’s okay, Cecil,” I sigh as I sit up. “I was barely asleep.” That’s a lie. I took my meds a few hours ago after a day of finally not having any visitors and was halfway through the best sleep of my life.

But I won’t blame Cecil for pulling me out of dreamless-land. “What’s up?” Quickly I turn off my headphones, hooking them up to their charger before they can die mid-conversation.

“Mrs. Elliot’s boy died. Oh, right, you haven’t met her. Well, she’s an old friend. She called me; she wants him taken care of by us. In Still Pines, instead of going to Philly. I told her I was out of town—” The phone makes a few warbling noises, and suddenly I can’t hear him. Lightning flashes outside my window, and begrudgingly I get up, muffling my own noises of displeasure as I walk around to find the pile of clean clothes still in my hamper. Belatedly, I switch my phone to speaker and toss it on the bed, leaving my hands free.