She’s been there on a few Fridays when he’s called, plus she met him three weeks ago.
When he is gone from town for his job, she now frets over him like a mother hen. I have no idea why. She knows fewer specifics about what he does on the job than I do. Anna’s convinced he’s a secret agent risking life and limb for the good of our country, an unknown and unsung hero.
She rushed on, a natural worrier. “You haven’t heard from him this morning, either? I hope he’s okay.” She muttered anxiously under her breath. I heard water running and rattling noises, it sounded like silverware being tossed around. “When did he call you last?”
I felt bad for not reassuring her that Luke was fine and dandy and hogging my bed even as we spoke, but there…I’m over it. Anna knows what I think about sleepovers and boyfriends. She would be agog at my departure from the norm and want all the details. Maybe at some point I’ll tell her more, if there is more to tell, but not now.
“Don’t worry, Mother Hubbard. I’m sure he’s fine.” I hurried her off the phone. “I’ve got to get dressed. I am freezing standing here. See you later at ten.”
I wasn’t sure how I felt about my best friend and lover becoming friends, much less Anna starting to romanticize Luke into some sort of American James Bond. I guess it was slightly better than if they hated each other.
Chapter V
“Torn” by Natalie Imbruglia
Saturday, 11/17/12
8:00 AM
After ending the daily call with Anna, I quickly finished getting ready. I blew my long layers straight and put on a little make-up. I dressed casually in a favorite pair of skinny, black jeans and a white, button-down shirt. I rolled up the cuffs neatly. I don’t like long sleeves. Over this, I wore a short, fitted black vest trimmed with gunmetal buttons in a baroque flower pattern. I left it unbuttoned.
Stella and I are jewelry fiends. She has shopped with me since she was old enough to point and drool at what she liked. We love to look for treasures in places like antique and flea markets, or in tucked-away neighborhood shops. We often use our finds to create something else, such as using old, architecturally interesting earrings to decorate a hair clip, or trimming the vest I just put on with cool, funky buttons. There’s not too much we can’t improve upon. I zipped on sturdy, ankle boots with silver side buckles and only three-inch-high, square heels.
I was ready to search out my morning coffee. Looking in the mirror, I put a hand to my ear and frowned. Make that almost ready. Without earrings on I may as well be naked, but they are kept in my bedroom. So are my necklaces, bracelets, and rings. These I could live without for a short time, but not wearing earrings really bugged me. Feeling a little cranky over being inconvenienced in my own home, I shrugged it off to another reason not to do sleepovers.
I planned to sneak in some work on the books before Stella arrived to open. My store office desktop is where I preferred to work. I wasn’t going to hang around the apartment and wait for Luke to wake up. I decided correct morning-after behavior didn’t really matter to me, but I didn’t want to text Luke and wake him. I left an actual handwritten note taped to the one place a man would be guaranteed to see it; the toilet lid. It read:
Dear Mr. Muscles,
I’m worried our dates are becoming ho-hum…
I’m out and about doing stuff, so please lock up on your way out.
If you’re in town, you’re invited for Sunday dinner @ 5pm.
Have I told you lately you are very, very impressive?
X
Anabel
p.s. Your turn?
Purse swinging in hand, I was walking down the hall when the building’s front doorbell rang. And rang, and kept on ringing. Whoever was outside my building pressing the doorbell wasn’t letting up and the annoyingly shrill buzzing sound was continuing nonstop.
I quickly dashed over to the master station intercom on the
When he is gone from town for his job, she now frets over him like a mother hen. I have no idea why. She knows fewer specifics about what he does on the job than I do. Anna’s convinced he’s a secret agent risking life and limb for the good of our country, an unknown and unsung hero.
She rushed on, a natural worrier. “You haven’t heard from him this morning, either? I hope he’s okay.” She muttered anxiously under her breath. I heard water running and rattling noises, it sounded like silverware being tossed around. “When did he call you last?”
I felt bad for not reassuring her that Luke was fine and dandy and hogging my bed even as we spoke, but there…I’m over it. Anna knows what I think about sleepovers and boyfriends. She would be agog at my departure from the norm and want all the details. Maybe at some point I’ll tell her more, if there is more to tell, but not now.
“Don’t worry, Mother Hubbard. I’m sure he’s fine.” I hurried her off the phone. “I’ve got to get dressed. I am freezing standing here. See you later at ten.”
I wasn’t sure how I felt about my best friend and lover becoming friends, much less Anna starting to romanticize Luke into some sort of American James Bond. I guess it was slightly better than if they hated each other.
Chapter V
“Torn” by Natalie Imbruglia
Saturday, 11/17/12
8:00 AM
After ending the daily call with Anna, I quickly finished getting ready. I blew my long layers straight and put on a little make-up. I dressed casually in a favorite pair of skinny, black jeans and a white, button-down shirt. I rolled up the cuffs neatly. I don’t like long sleeves. Over this, I wore a short, fitted black vest trimmed with gunmetal buttons in a baroque flower pattern. I left it unbuttoned.
Stella and I are jewelry fiends. She has shopped with me since she was old enough to point and drool at what she liked. We love to look for treasures in places like antique and flea markets, or in tucked-away neighborhood shops. We often use our finds to create something else, such as using old, architecturally interesting earrings to decorate a hair clip, or trimming the vest I just put on with cool, funky buttons. There’s not too much we can’t improve upon. I zipped on sturdy, ankle boots with silver side buckles and only three-inch-high, square heels.
I was ready to search out my morning coffee. Looking in the mirror, I put a hand to my ear and frowned. Make that almost ready. Without earrings on I may as well be naked, but they are kept in my bedroom. So are my necklaces, bracelets, and rings. These I could live without for a short time, but not wearing earrings really bugged me. Feeling a little cranky over being inconvenienced in my own home, I shrugged it off to another reason not to do sleepovers.
I planned to sneak in some work on the books before Stella arrived to open. My store office desktop is where I preferred to work. I wasn’t going to hang around the apartment and wait for Luke to wake up. I decided correct morning-after behavior didn’t really matter to me, but I didn’t want to text Luke and wake him. I left an actual handwritten note taped to the one place a man would be guaranteed to see it; the toilet lid. It read:
Dear Mr. Muscles,
I’m worried our dates are becoming ho-hum…
I’m out and about doing stuff, so please lock up on your way out.
If you’re in town, you’re invited for Sunday dinner @ 5pm.
Have I told you lately you are very, very impressive?
X
Anabel
p.s. Your turn?
Purse swinging in hand, I was walking down the hall when the building’s front doorbell rang. And rang, and kept on ringing. Whoever was outside my building pressing the doorbell wasn’t letting up and the annoyingly shrill buzzing sound was continuing nonstop.
I quickly dashed over to the master station intercom on the
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