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Thinking about us
(Blakely)
I climbed into bed and it was late, for me, and would be really late for Liam, but he would understand. He was probably waiting. I had my pillows all around me, my bedspread pulled across, cocooning me. The bedding was luxurious but not right: the color was gray, not even a real color at all. I liked colors. I looked around my bedroom. It looked like a business man slept here, spare and executive. The exact opposite of Jess’s hand-crafted thing. I didn’t necessarily like her style, but I loved character. I wanted a room, a house, a life, with character. I looked up at the ceiling. A vaulted master bedroom ceiling, too high up. My eyes traveled to the wall of windows, looking out over the city. They were screened at night, but now that I was in bed I retracted the screens with the remote control and looked out at the night lights, shimmering and twinkling in the distance.
LA was fucking beautiful. It had many of the same qualities of my hike: here I was alone in a wilderness, darkness enveloping me, stars glittering.
I pulled my phone off the bed stand and pushed the familiar button.
“Hi.”
“Hello Woodshee, how are ye?”
“I’m okay.” I concentrated on my fingers.
Some nights we talked movies, or books, or pubs, or told stories about our youth, but tonight was a ‘things are bothering me night’...
“So...?” His voice was low and gruff, his sleeping voice, now familiar and comforting.
I asked, “How late is it there?”
“Ye daena want tae ken, or ye will lecture me on needin’ m’sleep.”
“How was your day?”
“My day? Och, I had the usual chores and tribulations, how about yer day, Woodshee?”
“I went out to dinner with Jess. She is going to help me get ready for Ainsley Potter’s movie premiere, it’s black tie, lots to do, it’s the day after tomorrow—”
“It is already tomorrow.”
“Right... I hadn’t seen Jess in a couple of weeks, so I filled her in on my divorce, the business and...” My voice trailed off.
“It sounds like ye hae somethin’ on yer mind, out with it...”
“It’s just... I’ve been thinking about us, you know?”
He went quiet.
“I don’t really know what we’re doing, and I know why, because I really really like you, but... what is this really? You know, so... so I just wonder if we are... you know?”
“I haena any idea what ye are talking about, I...”
I could hear him run his fingers through his hair, upset, and I hadn’t even said anything yet, but also, I sort of hoped he would finish, like maybe complete my thoughts, possibly stop me before I started.
My throat felt tight. “I don’t know... I just wonder what we’re doing.... You have a life in Scotland. I have a life here, this terrible divorce, you know at our last meeting Darren had it entered into the record that I am using my righteous anger to manipulate him? He is being so mean, and I can barely cope and... You and I aren’t... we barely know each other.” A tear rolled down my face.
“I ken ye, Woodshee, we hae been talkin’ for hours a day for months.”
We both sat quietly. I got a tissue from the box and wiped my face.
Finally he broke the silence by asking, “What are ye sayin’, are ye breakin’ it off?”
“Yeah, I... you deserve better, you deserve someone who isn’t going through a divorce, who isn’t three thousand miles away. Someone who can drop everything to be with you, who is in your life, you deserve someone who... is... I don’t know.”
“I ken, I ken ye daena know, ye daena know anything, Woodshee, but ye are making excuses tellin’ me I deserve better — how come ye are sayin’ this tae me? Ye daena sound like yerself, it sounds like someone else tellin’ me this.”
I sobbed. “I just want what’s best for you.”
