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SUNDAY
“You can do this.” I reassured myself as I drew in a deep breath and knocked.
No answer.
I waited for two more minutes before knocking again. And it took another minute before I heard the doorknob jiggle. I expected him to open the door wider than a small crack, but it was wide enough for me to see half of his body. His right eye was bloodshot and it looked like he’d been crying. His hair was completely disheveled and he still wore the clothes he’d had on yesterday.
“What is it?” he asked his voice deep and sore.
“I wanted to talk about your next novel—”
“It’s Sunday. The day of rest. Let me rest,” he replied as he closed the door in my face.
I stood there stunned for a moment before I turned around and walked back down the stairs. As I stood in the driveway I paused and looked back at his house. “Was he hungover?” But I hadn’t smelled any alcohol on him.
Maybe he was still feeling ill?
“I guess I’ll go back into town.” I stuck my hands into the new pair of jeans I’d bought and headed down the road. But with every few paces behind me I felt like turning back and checking on him.
He’s a big boy. He’ll be fine. Right?
MONDAY
KNOCK!
KNOCK!
KNOCK!
“If you don’t answer I’m going to think you’re dead!” I yelled from the other side of the door. “I’ll end up calling the Sheriff and—”
“Shut up please.” I heard a voice from his side of the door.
I put my hand on it. “Are you okay?”
“I would be if you stopped yelling.”
“I’ve been out here for an hour and called nine times!”
“Esther.” He sighed. He cracked the door an even smaller distance than he had the day before. I could only see his face and it was worse. He was pale, too pale, and his eyes, they weren’t bloodshot anymore but now he had dark circles around them.
“You look—”
“I forgot to tell you, I don’t work on Mondays either.” He tried to give me his usual smirk but it fell flat and I was stunned that when he closed the door I didn’t realize he was lying faster.
“Malachi!”
“Go away!”
My temple throbbed and I could feel a headache coming on. Inhaling deeply, I stood up straighter. “It’s okay, Esther,” I said to myself. “He’s sick. Give him space. He can take care of himself.”
But he barely had anything in his fridge during his birthday, other than two steaks, some ham, and some bread. What in the world was he eating
now? Was he even eating? The better question was, was he sleeping? He looked like he hadn’t had a good night’s rest since…since I’d gotten here if not longer.
Taking out my phone I texted Li-Mei.
Operation the Great Malachi Novel—day two: Fail.
